Erik stalked the corridors of the theatre, moving like a ghost with quiet footsteps and only his flittering shadow for company. His mind was a tumult that would not be still, and had been since the incident that had so nearly harmed his Christine.
The stagehands had re-secured the backdrop after that rehearsal under his watchful eye. Once he was satisfied it was safe, he had sent them home and scoured every inch of it himself, trying to determine what could have been mishandled or forgotten.
He couldn't be certain - he was no expert on such things, though he loathed the idea of asking for help - but he was hard pushed to find any fault. The clamps and ties all seemed to be in working order, so unless someone had neglected to fasten it properly - which was denied by all - something must have slipped out, or a counterweight somewhere had released. Again, he was assured this was incredibly unlikely, which left only one explanation: someone had orchestrated it. That was disturbing in itself but, perhaps more worryingly, the cast and crew had all been on stage with him when it fell.
That meant someone had invaded his theatre, endangered his show. He knew artistic rivalries could be dramatic, but he highly doubted anyone would go this far to sabotage him, and he had hardly created anything to be jealous of yet. No one in the industry would even know his name yet.
But then who?
As it did every time he felt threatened, his mind drifted back to the Shah. He had thought he was safe in Paris, so far away from the past, but perhaps he could never truly leave it all behind… No, speculating would do no good. He would watch his back, but leaping to conclusions could make him focus on the wrong things and miss the knife swinging for his back. That had happened before, when he had been so sure he only had to look for external threats, and had only been saved by Nadir's friendship and quick thinking. Besides, he had managed to lead a fairly normal life here for so long; surely he couldn't be in danger anymore.
Erik continued his circuit of the theatre, his thoughts still whirling. He had begun a routine of systematically searching every nook and cranny he could discover in the building, and there were a lot. By now he was fairly certain he had found every hiding place, though he couldn't be sure. In his growing paranoia it had become a custom to examine every space from top to bottom, both before and after every rehearsal. It was exhausting, but even a slight reprieve from his fears was a relief.
He had lost the ability to enjoy the process of developing the show now, instead becoming tense and jumpy every time he entered the theatre. He had few qualms about his own safety, as he faded into obscurity the moment he stepped onto the street and had found no trouble since coming to Paris. Besides, he had watched his own back all his life, and had become adept at avoiding and defending himself from danger.
No, his real concern was for Christine, who was so precious and had been so close to harm that day. In the weeks since, there had been several more incidents which only served to heighten Erik's fears. Perhaps it was simply that his anxiety was on high alert, but he could have sworn there were many times she was almost hurt. It was always only a small thing, like a tripping hazard, a loose trapdoor, or irritants finding their way onto costumes, but it almost all happened to Christine. Others called it bad luck or clumsiness, but he called it a real danger.
To add to his stress levels, Christine and Raoul had only got closer as time passed, the pair of them even leaving rehearsals together several times in the past fortnight. She was still as warm and friendly as ever with Erik, but she seemed to find any excuse to spend more time with the infuriatingly polite, handsome, talented young man.
This had given Erik a dual purpose since the incident with the backdrop, of shielding Christine both from the mysterious saboteur and from Raoul. Given his position of power as the director, it was only too easy to push the pair apart at every opportunity he found, and appear completely innocent while doing it.
He orchestrated their rehearsals to be as divided as possible, sometimes having two separate groups practicing a different scene with each lead - only in the interests of efficiency, of course. When one was singing by the piano, the other would be dancing on the stage, or running lines in another room, or sent off to discuss costume or props, or whatever excuse was easiest at that moment.
When they did have to rehearse together - it was hard to deny that duets and conversations required cooperation - Erik inserted himself as much as he could. He regularly brought in understudies to replace one of the pair, insisting that they all needed to be comfortable performing with each other. When necessary, he brought himself physically between them, altering postures and demonstrating positions himself, if only to stop them touching for a few brief moments. He revelled in the moments he could be the one by Christine's side, electricity sparking through his veins at every contact, and he would even go so far as to hold hands with Raoul - humiliating and infuriating as it was - just to prevent Christine from doing the same.
Plans and plots of one sort or another were now constantly running through his mind, protecting Christine's physical and emotional wellbeing from whatever may batter her next. The one thought he couldn't allow to enter his head was that he could already be too late. No matter how much time Raoul and Christine spent with each other, no matter how many times he saw them drifting closer together, he would not give up. He could not accept that he might have lost before he even began, and he would not admit defeat until Christine outright refused his love.
A knock pulled him from his dark contemplation as he searched all the hiding places in the room designated as his office - he had even started checking for bugs and cameras, remembering the precautions he once had to take if he wanted a private conversation under the Shah's roof. As if summoned from his tortured thoughts, Christine stood in the doorway, a concerned expression creasing her sweet face.
"Are you okay?" she asked, still frowning as she took a small step into the room and glanced around.
"Yes, I just… I've misplaced something," he said shortly, finishing a scan of his desk drawers before standing straight again.
"Anything I can help with?"
Erik stopped his distracted searching and actually looked at her, seeing her eyes still watching him worriedly. Even her friendliness caused a pang in his heart now, when he knew she could be slipping further away at every moment. "No, don't trouble yourself, it doesn't matter." He drew a breath and forced a slight smile onto his face, trying to banish all stress and savour the fact that she was actually here, alone with him for once. "How are you?"
"Oh, I'm fine." Christine took another step forward, her expression not relaxing. "I actually came to check that you're alright; you seemed worried today. I don't think I've actually seen you enjoy rehearsals for a while now."
She was concerned about him? And had paid enough attention to notice something was wrong? Perhaps he didn't need to worry about losing her after all. "I'm fine," he reassured her, delighted when her face relaxed into a smile. "I've never done anything like this before, that's all." He couldn't tell her about his fears for her safety, couldn't say that his thoughts were always consumed with her, but he could at least make her happier.
"Good," she said simply, smiling at him for a beat before continuing, "I guess I should be getting home, then."
"He doesn't deserve you," Erik said abruptly, the words suddenly torn from his lips.
Christine frowned, frozen in the doorway. "What?"
He almost faltered under her gaze, but his resolve hardened - if he didn't say something now, he might lose his chance to nip this in the bud. "I know you and Raoul have been getting close, and I've seen the way he looks at you, but he's not good enough."
"I think I can decide for myself who's good enough for me," she responded slowly, her tone not unkind but a steely look entering her eyes.
Erik shook his head, realising everything was coming out wrong. If he acted like he was spiteful and jealous - which he was, of course, but she couldn't know that - it would only make her close off and disregard his words completely. "No, I know, I just mean… He knows you as a person, but he could never understand the music in your soul… He's a decent singer but he'll never really live the music like you do, never appreciate the depths of your talent." Like I do.
Christine frowned again, though she looked less cold now. "Well, I think he does understand music like I do, he does appreciate me, and he is good enough for me."
"But he -" Erik stopped himself, sighed and shook his head again, this time in resignation. He wasn't going to win, especially not like this now he had put her on the defensive. Hopefully he had at least managed to sow a little doubt within their picture-perfect relationship. "As long as you believe in him, that's the important thing."
"Right." She began to leave, then turned back again. "Is there… anything more to this?"
He hesitated. He could spill his guts, profess his feelings for her and attempt to win her over. But this wasn't the moment, not when she was confused and distant. "No, of course not," he lied easily. "I just want to make sure you're happy, that's all."
"Okay." She still sounded lost, and a little unconvinced, but she gave him a small smile as she moved away. "Bye, then."
"Bye," he responded feebly, but Christine was already gone. He sighed and sank into the chair behind his desk. That could have been worse, but it still wasn't far from a wreck. He had come so close to baring his heart to her, and she seemed to have almost guessed how he felt. He couldn't let a botched confession of love ruin this all, not now.
Erik rubbed his face with a slight groan, trying not to disturb his mask. That action alone served to sober him, to curb his hopeful dreams. Whether or not he fixed their relationship, he could never fix his deformity. Perhaps, if he could have kept his true face from her until he had captured her heart, everything would have worked out. But he had ruined that too in his eagerness and ignorance, and his outburst that morning had sealed their division. Between the ugliness outside him, and the equal ugliness inside, he could never deserve her.
God, this was a mess. Lately he was so tired and stressed that he barely seemed to be able to think straight.
He felt his phone buzzing, thought for a moment that perhaps Christine had reconsidered, but saw it was only Nadir and ignored it. He didn't want to talk to anyone, and certainly didn't want to explain himself to Nadir.
This was not the first time he had wanted something he couldn't have, not by a long way, but it was the first time he had almost believed he could have a chance. Christine was so sweet, and so perfect, with her wonderful voice and kind heart. But he did not deserve her, and despite his bitterness he knew Raoul would keep her happy and safe, though he loathed the thought.
His Christine was not truly his, and he may have just come close to ruining the chance of even having a friendship with her. He could not risk something like that again.
Erik could feel his heart shrivelling in his chest, becoming solid and cold. He would not give in to the pain, would not crumble. He would not, could not, halt his endeavour to keep Raoul and Christine separate, but a part of his mind was constantly traitorous and doubtful. Deep inside, he knew he would never find the happiness he longed for, but he could not let that break him. No, he would be as unfeeling as a statue for these last weeks before the show began. He would not endanger everything he had built - his career, his show, his friendship with Christine - on some stupid notion he could win her love.
And yet every time he was with her, hearing her voice, seeing her sweet smile and bright eyes, those feelings came bubbling to the surface. Every moment he was at risk of blurting everything out, throwing caution to the wind. So, he would have to feel nothing, risk nothing. He could not test his self-control, not where Christine was concerned, because it was already close to breaking point. He would be a machine, pushing through these moments to complete his work, and then able to remove himself from this torture.
Perhaps one day, when there was none of the pressure of the show, no Raoul constantly between them… No, he couldn't think like that.
No matter what curses, laments and chastisements whirled through his mind, one thought kept circling back: I'm such a fool. Yet that didn't stop him falling.