After leaving Christine Erik had returned home and used his piano as an emotional outlet. His music was a mixture of anger, fear and sadness. He hated that he had to result to hypnosis to get her to agree to sing for him. He didn't want to resort to manipulation, but her sense of duty towards her husband was becoming tiring. If he wanted the show to be a success she needed to sing, and he was certain the empty feeling within him would dissipate once he heard her voice entrance the audience once again.

Erik knew he was decending into madness when thoughts of 'dealing with' the Doweger Comtess flooded his mind. He sat in his arm chair running his punjab lasso through his hands contemplating the easiest way to dispose of her. It would be easy - he knew it - but Christine and the Vicomte would know it was him, and considering how adverse Christine was to murder it wouldn't be wise. If Nadir was here he would have talked him down from the parapet, but he was alone, and alone it was easy for him to lose himself.

As he sat in the chair losing minutes and hours to his rapid thinking and dangerous thoughts he realised there was one other person capable of grounding him: Marguerite Giry.

--xxx--

Erik waited patiently outside of Meg's home. He could see from the silhouettes in the window she had comoany, and he knew who it wouod be. The woman was being foolish: he had sacrificed alot to protect her reputation and now she was spending time alone with André.

Once her guest had left Erik snuck into her home.

"I don't like you seeing him", upon entering her livingroom.

Meg stilled momentarily at his voice and let out an audiable sigh before continuing to tidy away the dirtied cups and teapot. She considered retorting, throwing his own words back at him, but his current disposition made her mindful of his feelings. He seemed vulnerable, distant and deep in thought.

Erik had his back to her and was trialing a finger along the spines of the books on the shelf. Withiut turning to face her he asked, "does Christine love me?" before briefly glancing over his shoulder than returning his attention to the bookshelves. "You said she doesn't love me as I want".

Meg sighed, she should have guessed this mood and impromptu visit was about Christine.

"I'm not the one you need to ask" she replied, leaving him alone while she went to the kitchen and started to busy herself with the washing-up. She felt uncomfortable when he mentioned Christine, it reminded him of who he once was and the things he had done, but also reinforced that any hopes she had of romance with the masked man were a futile endeavour.

She had half expected him to follow her to the kitchen, but instead her remained stoic at the bookshelf. His hands were laced behind his back and he stood straight, he had removed his jacket and she could see the tension in his shoulders. She almost assumed he was pensive, but his posture inplied her was resigned to whatever he had decided.

"I've missed our conversations. Without you or Nadir I fear my intellect may be waning".

Meg rolled her eyes and approached him slowly, placing her small hand upon his shoulder in an attempt to offer some comfort; he was being overly dramatic, she doubted he had any impact on his intellect.

When her hand made contact with his should Erik momentarily tensed before relaxing. He didn't turn to look at her, instead he hung his head foxing his gaze upon his shoes. "I miss your dancing"

Meg titled her head at the strangeness of his comment before stepping away and making her way to the violin he had placed on the settee. "You see me dancing almost every day", she replied, picking up the violin case in the process.

"But you don't dance for me" he spoke, almost absent mindedly.

"I think that you will find that I do, but if you want me to dance exclusively for you than I shall. After all, you have your volin".

When he turned to face her Erik was surpised that she held out the violin case, and he almost reluctantly removed it from her hands and placed it on the table.

He chose not to play one of his own compositions, instead opting for a piece from Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty. It took Meg a moment to remember the piece, but once her flow began she didn't stop. Without pointe shoes or preparation her feet hurt, but she continued as her mother had taught her. Ballet could be painful, but the grace and beauty it created was worth every drop of blood and sweat.

Once the music stopped she was breathless. She hadn't danced in that manner for almost half a year and although she had maintained her fitness, Erik's instance that she didn't dance en pointe or complete any jêtês had made the piece much more difficult than she remembered.

Erik had played the piece instinctively. She looked beautiful when she danced classical ballet, and the exhilaration she showed as she caught her breath made him feel a twinge of guilt; she was not dancing classical ballet because of him. Yes, Firmin's idea surpassed anything he would've expected from the moronic man: it wasn't art, but it was buisness.

"I don't like you seeing André" he repeated. He hadn't meant to say it, but he couldn't stop himself. She deserved someone who could provide her with a comfortable life that would allow her skills to flourish - yes - Gilles André was more interested in the artistic side of the theatre, but he was a money man, and money men were easily led astray and extorted. After all, he should know.

Meg furrowed her brow, "You've said. He is my friend. I'm entitled to have friends Erik"

"He wants more", he replied as he returned his violin to its case.

"Maybe".

Erik didnt like the sound of that, it implied she would consider a relationship with the man that consisted of more than friendship. "Am I not your friend? I fail to see why you would chose his friendship over mine".

"It isn't a case of one or another Erik. He is a kind man who, if I am honest, I may be able to come to love. But right now he is my friend. I need a friend, and I'm not certain you and I are".

Meg could tell from Erik's eyes he was surprised by his qords, he clearly believed they still remained friends after all that jad transpired between them. She didn't want to hurt him, he had suffered so much in his life and was finally receiving the credit and acclamation he deserved.

"Erik, we have spoken more words to each other in the last few days than we had done in months. I would like us to be friends, but you are always focused on your wants and needs, and I have them too".

"And André provides to your 'needs' does he?" His tone and voice dripped with dissaproval. Erik knew it wasn't his buisness, but he knew the desires of men and it hadn't been difficult to find out about Gilles André. He was a young widow who hadn't entertained female company since his wife's premature death, to have a beautiful and witty woman such as Meg in his company and not desire her would be unrealistic. He knew the man had designs on her.

"I have told you he is my friend" she said irritated by his continued ignorance of what she was saying.

He let out an annoyed huff,"And Christine, is she not your friend?"

"Christine has written a few times, but we can't meet each other due to her mother-in-law. It would be far too scandalous for her to spend time with a lowly dancer".

Once again the Doweger Vicomtess was the one causing problems: if she wasn't interferring in Christine's life than she could see Meg and Meg wouldn't need Gilles André as a friend.