Erik could feel his skin prickling, a light sheen of sweat rubbing against his shirt collar. He hated being in public, especially when he was not in control of the situation. When he knew exactly where he was going and what he was doing he could cope, and company always distracted him. But now he was somewhere unfamiliar, surrounded by strangers, and about to put his neck on the line.

He braced himself and stepped into the little restaurant - more of a café at this time of day - slipping as quickly and quietly as he could into a chair tucked in the corner. There he hunched over the table, snatching up the menu and pretending to peruse it intently, his hands trembling slightly all the while.

This is stupid, he berated himself. Surely even you can't create enough of a fantasy that you believe this will work.

The trembling worked its way down through his spine into his legs, and his left knee began jiggling agitatedly up and down. Erik despised being exposed like this, surrounded by so many people only a few seconds away from hating and fearing him at any point. His own anxiety in that moment only amplified every other worry and doubt, sending him spiralling further into paralysed horror.

You're an idiot, he thought, almost as a mantra in his head. Nobody wants you; you've destroyed this like you destroy everything, you could never be a real man -

A glimpse of golden hair was enough to halt his thoughts and freeze his heart. Terror gripped him at the idea of progressing any further with his plan, but at the same time excitement shot through him and his legs rose without instruction, carrying him across the room. He no longer cared about the people crowding around him, not even when they brushed against him - something that normally made him cringe and recoil in fear if he had not initiated the contact. All he knew was that there was a divine beacon beckoning him forwards, either to salvation or doom, but this time on his terms.

Erik stopped an arm's length from her, yet was unable to reach out and touch her. Instead he spoke softly, knowing she would hear him. "Christine," he said, working every ounce of magic he could into his voice. He knew from practice how to charm a person with a single word; what intonations turned a voice to velvet, what notes would captivate the attention and soothe the soul.

She turned, those wondrous eyes alight with what he let himself believe was hope. "Erik!" she exclaimed, quietly enough that nobody else looked around, but loudly enough that his already flighty heart jumped in his chest. Her gaze scanned his face, whether searching his expression or thinking of the hidden horror he did not know. "What are you doing here?" she asked slowly after a moment, clearly confused yet trying as she always did to sound polite.

"I didn't want to intrude on your home," Erik replied in a stronger voice than he had expected "I thought you might not want me there after… after we last saw each other."

She shook her head, fair curls tied back yet defiantly dancing against her cheeks. "No, I understand… I wanted to talk to you again. I'm sorry for upsetting you." Her eyes dropped to the floor, either from fear or from guilt, and a sheepish blush took form on her cheeks.

"No," he said, the word firm with the willpower he gained from not having to look into her eyes. He frowned a little, bemused as ever by her unwavering goodness. "You have nothing to be sorry for; I should never have treated you like that." Erik drew a deep breath and squared his shoulders, forcing himself to keep meeting her gaze as she raised it again. He was loath to apologise to anyone for anything, yet the idea of losing Christine was even worse - and to Raoul of all people. "I'm sorry for how I acted. I was incredibly rude and cruel, and you did not deserve it. I didn't mean to frighten you, and I regret everything I did."

Though his words were true he ensured careful control of his tone without, keeping it beguiling and soothing, and paying constant attention to how she reacted to each syllable. His feelings may have been heartfelt, but the emotions on his face and in his voice were precisely orchestrated to get her right where he wanted her. In another time he may have felt almost remorseful about manipulating her so, but he was through with playing nice. She had found his weakness, so he would play to his strengths - and his greatest strength was playing people as easily as a piano.

"I saw your video and knew I had to talk to you," Erik continued, the staged speech tripping from his lips with all the sentiment of spontaneous honesty, but none of its raw pain. "I understand if you don't want to work together anymore, if you never want to see me again. But if you'll give me another chance, I think we could make each other great. I would love to work your voice into something truly magnificent, and turn you into the star you should be."

When he fell silent again, Christine stared at him for a moment. He worried briefly that he had misjudged this, that he had said too much or too little. Had he been wrong about being able to win her back? But then her expression broke into an open, real smile; small but breathtaking.

"I would like that," she said quietly, her shoulders relaxing a little as tentative hope crossed her face. "I really enjoy singing with you, and I hoped we could move past… what happened."

"I want that too," he quickly interjected, feeling a twinge of both victory of guilt when her eyes turned a little sad. "I was angry because I thought you would hate me once you knew the truth, like everyone else has. But I should have known you were better than them all. Besides, it would be terrible to try working without you." The words were the most truth he had freely spoken yet, and a few more tumbled out before he could seal his lips. "I've barely been able to play any music since you left; I just keep thinking of how much I regretted what happened and how much I missed your voice."

"I've barely been able to sing a note," she replied, her smile brightening though her cheeks reddened shyly. The admission made his heart soar, but the memory that Raoul had still been able to get her to sing was a blow that stopped his truth-telling in its tracks.

Erik realised that he had been edging closer to her while they spoke, her leaning towards him as he used his voice to draw her in, but now he stepped back. He was here to achieve something, not lose himself more. "Yes, well, we'll fix that all now. How would you like to visit again sometime next week? We can play whatever you want."

"I'd love to!" Her enthusiasm and relief were practically tangible, but he wouldn't let himself get drawn in by her emotion. "Would you like to practice with Raoul again one day?"

His fingers twitched, but he prevented them from curling into fists. "Of course," he said smoothly, forcing out the words though he longed to grit his teeth against them. "You two sound wonderful together." Only a fool would give in to allowing the other man's presence tarnish his relationship with Christine, but only a jealous person would refuse such a request without good reason - and he was not about to show jealousy and reveal another weakness to her, not when he was already on the back foot.

"Great!" Christine grinned happily, oblivious to his internal war. Her eyes flickered away from his and she seemed to remember they were in the middle of a busy restaurant. "I should probably get back to work, but I'm so glad you came! I'll message you about meeting up?" Her gaze was still nervous and unsure, despite the joy in her smile. Perhaps she felt the same disbelief he often did in her presence, as though this were all some elaborate dream. But it was wonderfully real, and now he was back in control.

"I look forward to it," he responded with a warm smile, nodding in farewell before exiting back out to the street. The swell of the people around him no longer nettled him, as he had no fear now. Christine was his again, she was under his power, and by her own choice.

The pain he had seen turn to joy before his eyes would almost make him remorseful, but Erik knew how the world worked. Power was the true currency, and he had learned how to rake it in. He had seen the Shah take everything he wanted in life and more, and had never faced any ill consequences, simply because he had power. Erik had been a servant once, had taken the fall when the power he had been granted within the Shah's small kingdom had been ripped away, and he had vowed never again to bow to another.

Not even to an Angel, who would make most men kneel and beg for glory.

No, he would not give up his power again, and would instead do whatever it took to get what he wanted. If manipulating Christine to be happy with him was the price he had to pay for success and love, he would gladly pay it. He finally had his own small kingdom, and he was not going to let his plans be destroyed. He would not be helpless.

Never again.