A/N - thanks badpixie06 for your comment on here and AO3. It's nice to know people are reading this and can tolerate my typos and spelling errors (seriously, where is my spell checker?!?!)

--xxx--

After Erik had bid Meg farewell, and pushed the nagging feeling he had forgotten something important relating to her out of his mind, it had once again started to rain. He cursed the English weather and his need to fetch his Inverness Cape alongside his violin as he had taken great care to dress in a way that would please Christine, and the Inverness Cape was not part of his carefully considered attire. He needed her to see him as a viable option, a man she could leave her husband for, a man who could provide her with things that she had become accustomed to.

--xxx--

Erik had requested the Vicomtess de Chagny meet him in a restaurant he knew had a cabinet particulier. Although this decision was not based on the knowledge he would be engaged in an illicit rendevouz, he wouldn't back away from one of the opportunity presented itself

The room was dark and had not been furnished with aritical lighting, instead two gas lamps adorned the walls and several candles littered the shelves and sideboard. There was a small circular ash table with two chairs in one corner, and opposite was a large green chaise. Erik had ordered a white lace table cloth be placed upon the table and that china plates and silver cultury be laid out for their use. In the centre of the table was single red rose with a black ribbon tied around its stem and Christine's favourite dessert: a prinsesstårta. He personally found it to be far too sweet, and having witnessed various dental techniques used around the globe he tended to aviod food he believed caused damage.

Apparently, according to the hotel's concierge, it had not been an easy feet to employ a baker to make the bright green cake, with copious amounts of cream, icing and marzipan and the whole endeavour had cost him a tidy sum. Of course, he assumed the concierge had exaggerated his trial in order to recieve a greater financial reward, but Erik gave him credit for his believable story and rewarded him as such.

He had most given-up on Christine's attendance assuming she had not forgiven him his previous transgression of manipulation, and was starting to formulate a new plan to liberate her voice from the oppressive Vicomte when she entered the roon.

Christine was wearing a pale pink bodice with golden lace across her decolletage and to the nape of her neck. Her sleeves were puffed in the current fashionable style with the same golden lace at the base of the ruffle and on her cuffs. As was customery from a woman of her standing she wore a large bustle that prevented her tired skirt from dragging on the floor. The skirt itself was the same pale pink as her bodice with the addition of small embroided red roses and the hem trimmed with gold lace. Unlike Meg, she wore a large red hat with her hair carefully pinned back in a series braids. To Erik she was perfection: a perfect angel.

Erik had positioned himself between the door and the table in orderto block her view of his latest gift; he couldn't help that at times he needed to be theatrical. When he stepped aside to show Christine the primsesstårta she shrieked with glee. Her response was natural and inncocent, there was no acting that seemed characteritic of other women, and - most importantly - it was genuine. Erik was getting tired of dealing with what he percieved as false emotions women - one woman - dealt him. He was constantly finding himself replaying conversations and interactions in his mind ti identify qhen the falsehood would start, but he always seemed to struggle. At times he believed this was because the woman in question was acting genuinely, as he had believed earlierbthat day, while other times he put it down to her exceptional acting ability.

Shaking the thoughts of the woman from his mind he was overjoyed to see that he had been the cause of Christine's happiness, knowing that giving her a slither of pleasure was enough to give him satisfaction. He knew she wasn't happy with the Vicomte because he denied her music (she had written so in her letters) and therefore he could make her happier than her husband, and all he had to do was make her realise this.

"Oh Erik, where did you find someone to make a primsesstårta? I have been asking cook to make one, but she claims my instructions are not clear. And Raoul - well - he says he has searched every bakery in London to find someone to make one, but clearly that isn't true."

A smug feeling came over Erik as Christine openly criticised her perfect husband and accused him of lying. It was more evidence that he would make her happier than her boy.

"It wasn't hard. I asked and I recieved" he said nonchalantly. He wasn't going to tell her how much money the acquisition cost, nor how difficult the concierge had claimed the job to be; he wanted her to believe he went through the effort of finding a baker willing to make one. He wanted her to know he would do everything in his power to make her happy - something the Vicomte obviously wasn't doing.

Christine placed the folio she had been carrying on the table and picked up the rose. Her slight smile as she ran her fingers over the soft velvet of the petals wasn't missed by her former tutor.

"Please sit and eat with me Erik". To eat with her was something so very domestic. He had dreamed of sharing these moments with her; to dine and discuss their days,. to share thoughts and ideas. He wanted to share these trival domestic features with his wife.

"I wan't you to know: I have forgiven you, but I don't know if I'd be able to forgive you again"

Once again Erik felt taken aback by her compassion and genuinity . He had wronged her, yet she was willing to forgive him with ease. He thanked her before taking the break in her consumption of cake to fetch his violin and start to play. As the music swelled Christine realised she recognised the tune.

With shaking hands the former prima donna removed Erik's composition from the folio and she started to sing. She knew her voice was not as strong as it once was, and she knew her technique was lacking, but she had missed Erik's music tonthe point it felt like her soul ached. If anyone could help her regain her former glory, it would be Erik.

As her voice and his music entwined nothing else in the world mattered to Erik. He noticed her range was not as strong as it once was and her posture had become slack, but that was due to the Vicomte's refusal to let her sing, not his angel's own inepitude. As she sang neither took their eyes off one and another, and Erik was certain she could see into his broken soul - with every note she gave she fixed some of the damage caused by years of neglect and abuse, while he saw her kindness and innocence in hers. She was the day to his night, the light to his dark and heaven to his hell: they belonged together.

Once they had finished Erik dropped his arms to his side and then placed the violin onnthe chaise. He didn't want to.return it tonit's case for fear she would believe their time together was over, but he wanted to coach her, and show her his gratitude fornher singing. As he strode towards her he had every intention of correcting her posture and reminding her to sing from her diaphragm and not her chest; but the road to hell was built by good intentions. instinctively he took her hands in his and placed several light kisses upon her knuckles.

"Angels still weep when you sing"

"Only when I sing your work". Her response was enough to break him, propriety be damned he took her into his arms and kissed the crown of her head. They stood like this for several minutes. Erik could feel her heartbeat quicken as he held her, giving him hope she desired him as he did her. When she stepped aay from him the cold air caused by her absence made him shiver.

"I have missed you", Christine whisoered, as though she was sharing a dangerous secret

"And I you", he once again took her hands, "You will soar above the heavens once more with my tutution"

"Erik, you know I can't. You know you can't tutor me".

Ignoring her protest Erik began to outline which aspects of her technique needed work, how important it was to correct her poature, and then to see if she could still sing while she danced.

"Erik you aren't listening: you cannot tutor me and I cannot sing anymore. This has been wonderful, and I would very much like to see you again, but I don't want to mislead you"

He hadn't been listening, not fully, "I am here now. Of course you can sing"

"Erik - I have told you. Raoul and his mother won't let me."

"Yes, yes, I know - he doesn't make you happy. But I can", Erik spoke quickly. He was currently the happiest he had felt in a long time. He knew he could make her haooy because he would give her music and song. He wouldn't deny her anything.

"Erik, will you please listen to me? I am not happy because he and his mother deny me music, not because I don't love him"

Erik knew she felt a sense of duty and obligation towards the Vicomte, because she was a good and kind woman, but he knew that wasn't love. She may have believed that she loved her husband, but Erik knew otherwise. To love someone you want to make them happy, and the Vicomte was denying her things that make her happy and therefore he didn't love her. Whereas he would deny her nothing, because that was what true love entailed.

Erik knew what he had to do: he needed to remove the obstacles to Christine performing. He needed to remove the Vicomte and his mother.

--xxx--

A/N - I apologise for any typos or spelling errors. I have read this several times and think I've caught them all. My laptop went kaput and so I am having to use my phone, and apparently the spell check on that isn't very good.