Christine and Erik parted ways early in the afternoon; she to meet her friend for lunch and he to go in to rehearse at the opera. He felt himself slipping into the haze of love. He'd adored Christine before, but now he'd made her his and couldn't keep her far from his mind. Why bother to deny what he already knew? He loved the girl, she was everything he could want in a mistress or mate.

The thought was rattling.

He greeted a few musicians and a set of dancers as he swept through the auditorium and up to his office, feeling lighthearted and ready to create beauty in sound. Christine would be there to see him in a short amount of time, and he wanted to make sure he impressed her.

Eri settled into an office chair and set out a few music sheets on the low table, in preparation for the night. He found an aria that hadn't been looked over for a few weeks.

This would be a good warm-up piece, just to wake everyone up. Maybe just a short run through-

"So I take it you took the latest girl to bed. How was it?"

Erik glanced over the top of his aria sheet to frown at Jaslene, a principal in all his operas for the past few years. The woman was beautiful; a deep bronze complexion topped by jet-black braids, she was by far the most exotic performer in his company, even if not the most talented. She could sing, no one could deny her that, but in all honesty Erik had often considered releasing her from her contract.

At her statement, he considered it again.

"Excuse me?"

The woman playfully flopped into the chair across from his. Erik liked Jaslene well enough, but he didn't appreciate her uninvited strut into his office or her presumption about his social life. He hadn't told anyone, it wasn't his style to brag about his exploits, so how had she figured it out?

Jazz rolled her eyes at him, "What am I, blind? You've been smiling since you came in, and besides that, I was at Denver's last night. Hell, you got me hot with that tango and I was way on the other side of the floor!"

Erik felt heat creep into his cheeks and stood from his chair. Shifting his weight, he spoke, "It's none of your business, Jazz. Honestly, you're like a high school gossip."

She stretched in her seat, languid and unconcerned as an overfed cat. "Don't be so shy, maestro. We're all grown-ups here, and everyone knows that it's good for a man to relieve some tension every once in a while. Frankly, I'm glad that you've finally gotten some- I could tell you've been wound a little too tight lately."

Erik snapped at her, "You're fired, get out of my office!"

"You've fired me every two weeks for years already- find some new material," she groused as she stood and headed towards the door.

Erik shook his head and tried to smother the smile he could feel fighting it's way into his expression. He looked at the clock and thought of Christine. She would be there with him soon. She would see him here, in command, directing the production, truly in his element.

Damned if he wouldn't impress her.

Christine had agreed to see Raoul for lunch on Sunday; she had been in the city longer than he had, and had chosen the restaurant where they would meet. It was a casual place that served the uncomplicated food they'd so often indulged while together in Miami.

She felt relieved that she hadn't needed to dress up or worry over selecting a wine for the meal with Raoul as she did with Erik; he had never been a finicky eater, and was comfortable in most any setting.

He had arrived shortly before her, and stood from the table to greet her at the door. Christine paused in removing her coat as she watched him approach her. Raoul was dressed in a pair of worn, dark jeans, tennis shoes and a white sweater. He had always been handsome, but their time apart had given him opportunity to shed his boyish charm, replacing it with that of a man.

It was strange to look at him now; it made her wonder if there was any visible change in her own appearance.

Raoul stepped forward and smiled, pulling her into his arms for a hug. "Christine, it's great to see you again."

He smelled of fresh grass and clean laundry, a scent she'd always relished on him.

He released her and Christine took off her coat to reveal a ruby sweater set and warm khaki corduroys. Together, they looked like a typical pair of college students and Raoul, in his usual way, didn't hesitate to comment on it. "Look at us, we're the poster kids for American Eagle," he joked as he led her to the table he'd chosen.

She felt more relaxed already; she'd been worried that he would use their lunch as a way to ask more and more questions about what had happened to her. Christine was firm that not only wasn't it his business, but she wanted to leave it all in the past. "Better American Eagle than Hot Topic," she said, "Speaking of which, how's the youngest Weird Sister? Still gothic?"

The de Chagnys had been a family to her, and she deeply missed Raoul's sisters- the triplets had been the closest thing to siblings she had ever known.

Raoul smiled fondly, "Katie's doing fine- they all are, actually. She gave up the goth phase when my parents moved them here, thank God. Apparently Manhattan Elite is very strict in its dress code that none of its students are allowed to dress like angsty vampires."

Christine laughed, "I'm sure she was very disappointed."

After they put in their orders, Raoul shrugged, "Well, she stayed in her room for a few days, playing death metal music at top volume and she e-mailed me a few whiny poems about the 'fascist institution' of private school. Then, when I next saw her, she looked like a preppy girl on her way to tennis practice."

Christine raised her brows, "The quick-change artist."

He nodded, "They all are. For a while they played the switch game and went to each other's classes. When my parents found out, they made them dye their hair so we could tell them apart. Philippe's nickname was the inspiration behind that whole idea."

"They've dyed their hair?" The idea was strange to her, as she remembered Raoul's sisters being very protective of the long golden hair they all shared. Vain teenagers they were, but never unkind. "Do I have to ask?"

"Katie is a lovely chocolate brunette; Tessa is a fiery redhead, if you'll excuse the cliché, and Heather is now a platinum blonde. It took a full day at the salon and over $1,000 to achieve this aim, but my mother was determined to keep them from using their switch tricks at the new school."

Christine's eyes had widened considerably, "I am shocked. I can't even picture them looking so different!"

"Well, you don't have to picture them. When are you free again? Come to the new family house for Christmas, it's only a short time away now and you know we'd love to have you."

Raoul's invitation startled her.

Christmas is close, so soon? I haven't been paying attention to anything…last year spent with them was so wonderful…

Erik.

Raoul watched closely as the wheels turned in Christine's head. He could see her remembering, considering and hesitating. He had expected as much. He continued, "You can bring the guy you're staying with, if you want. It is Christmas, the more the merrier." He reassured her.

She smirked, "It's killing you to say that, isn't it?"

He sighed and took a sip of his Coke. "All right. Maybe it is, just a little. Can you blame me? I'm curious about what kind of man would let his girlfriend…unless he doesn't even know what you do?" He pressed.

Christine shook her head and touched her hair. "No, he knows. I can't really explain it- he hates me dancing just as much, well, he hates it more than you ever could. I'm doing this to protect him. It's kind of involved, Raoul. It's like something out of a thriller- drugs, undercover work, threats around every corner."

He appeared puzzled, and with good reason. Christine was deliberately hinting at the situation, but being intentionally vague. She wanted to tell him but at the same time, she knew that she couldn't let him know everything.

"Don't worry, Raoul. I'll be out of there soon, and I'll never go back. Even if I wanted to, Erik would kill me just for considering it," she joked.

Raoul frowned. "And Erik is the guy you're with?"

She nodded, suddenly smiling with love. "Yes. Erik Latour. He's wonderful,"

"I know who that is! He's an architectural consult for the city, I don't believe this! He gave a lecture at my university a few months ago, just before I got my degree." Raoul couldn't help but to laugh at the craziness of it all. Here, the best friend he'd ever had was shacking up with a man whose work he had admired for years.

Crazy world, none of it will ever make any sense to me!

Christine shared a laugh with him before she bit into her burger. Raoul shook his head, still laughing slightly before turning their conversation away from the stripper stage and Christine's past. Leave it all in the past, that seemed the best idea.

She said that her time at the club would soon come to an end and that she would never go back, and what's more, that Erik would never allow her to return. So be it, Raoul only want to know that Christine was safe and happy.

That's all he'd ever wanted.

The restaurant had seen a slow mid-day; barely half the tables were seated while Raoul and Christine had enjoyed their lunch. In the relative privacy of the place, they were unbothered while reminiscing. She enjoyed it very much; somehow, she had forgotten what a wonderful friend Raoul could be.

So warm and safe- in a strange way, he reminded her of Erik's gentler side.

When Erik would remove his armor, his tailor-cut suit and scowling mask, when he was just a man that wanted to hold her, when he was just like anyone else.

The air outside was snapping cold, the wind nearly painful as it blew against their faces on the walk towards the Metropolitan Opera. Both Christine and Raoul pulled their coats more tightly against their bodies to stave off the chill; it wasn't entirely useless to do so.

"Almost enough to make you wish you were in Miami again," Raoul said offhandedly.

Christine grimaced at his poor expression. "Um, yeah, almost," she agreed. "I'd take the beach over this blizzard any day of the week!"

Raoul nodded beside her and they continued to walk.

Once they'd finally made it to the opera, they were exhausted. Fighting against the wind on a ten-block walk through the congested city had been more than a challenge. At times Christine could have sworn she'd been in a fight for her life.

They had stopped for coffee simply to recharge their expelled energy, but their drinks had already gone cold in the December chill from outside. Christine collapsed onto a visitor bench in the grand lobby, grateful for a reprieve from the cold. Raoul took her cup with his and tossed them both into a nearby trashcan before turning to her.

"Well, now that we've braved the Arctic," he laughed, "Where do we go from here?"

Christine blinked and glanced around the lobby. It appeared that they were alone at the moment, but she knew that she would find Erik somewhere within the grand space of the New York opera hall.

This was his life.

She stood up and shrugged, almost playfully. "He's around somewhere, but if I had to bet, I'd say he's probably in the auditorium." She smiled at Raoul, "He took me to a real production, it was opening night. Amazing, really."

Raoul didn't have to ask much about her experience- ballet, theater, opera, those had been the things Christine had loved most when he'd first met her. She'd loved dancing more than he'd ever loved anything in all of his twenty-four years and he had envied her that. He had bought tickets to a ballet for her birthday, but she had disappeared before he'd had the chance to surprise her.

Christine led the way towards a set of double doors. Looking closer, Raoul saw a small, hand-written sign on the door. Whoever wrote it, their penmanship was terrible and he struggled to read out, "Rehearsal in session."

Christine shrugged, "I think we can go ahead in, I mean, I am dating the boss."

He laughed and together, they pulled open the doors. An explosion of sound met their ears, all music and lyrics thundering out into the lobby. Abruptly, just as quick as it had pounded their ears, the music stopped. Christine stepped into the theater and took Raoul's hand in hers to draw him in beside her. Together, they strode down the center aisle, headed for the stage.

They were greeted with a chorus of, "Hey, can't you see we're rehearsing?" "There was a sign on the door!" and "Get out of here, we're working!"

The performers on stage and the orchestra alike were obviously irritated at the interruption but were just as quickly silenced by Erik's command.

He stood from the audience chair where he'd been mulling over a section of woodwind sound, and fixed a glare on the entire company. "Compose yourselves. These are my guests and you will show some respect."

Everyone at least had the sense to obey as Erik turned to approach them. His eyes were affixed to Christine alone, she had never been far from his thoughts that day and he hoped it had been the same for her.

Was he vain to hope she'd been thinking of him?

Perhaps, but he didn't care.

He held out his hands to her and was gratified when she slipped her own hands into his and then kissed him. It was brief, a kiss in greeting, but he felt enthralled by her, by her every touch and glance. He took nothing for granted when it came to Christine.

"Christine," Erik greeted. "I'm glad you came here today," he said, kissing her cheek for good measure.

She smiled brightly, playful and gorgeous. "Where else would I go? Now, let me introduce you."

He had nearly forgotten about the young man she'd entered with, and Erik glanced up to assess her friend. The man was dressed casually and appeared to have an easygoing way about him; Erik wasn't thrilled that the young man was handsome, but overall he didn't feel threatened by him.

This is just Christine's friend, after all.

Erik stepped forward and shook his hand, "Good afternoon, I'm Erik Latour,"

"Yes sir, Raoul de Chagny. I actually attended one of your lectures in May,"

His eyebrows rose, "Truly? Christine, you've brought me a fan."

The slender blonde laughed, "I think it's safe to say we're both fans of yours,"

Her words carried a secret meaning between them, and Erik smiled slightly. He glanced up to see Jaslene on the stage, smirking at the quick exchange. Erik motioned them towards the audience chairs, "Please, have a seat. We're just doing a run through of the performance that will open next month."

Raoul took a seat as Christine did beside him and together, they watched as Erik walked about the stage, giving curt instructions to the cast and crew. She watched and listened intently, thrilled to see him in his element, commanding the lighting, the sound work and the choreography.

It was clear to all just who was in charge.

"I'm happy with the production as is, but I still feel like it could use something extra," Erik muttered to his choreographer, a stately woman who'd been a ballerina herself with the company for decades. He turned to where Christine and Raoul were still seated in the audience. "Christine? Could you come up here for a moment please?"

Shrugging, she ascended the stairs to the stage and smiled, "What's up, Erik?"

"What's up is that there is a dull part in the choreography and I'd like your help with it," he replied.

Christine blinked, "Oh, do you mean that transition from the second to the third movement?"

The choreographer, Theresa Girard, pursed her lips. Obviously she didn't appreciate her skills to be questioned by some young amateur.

Erik nodded, "Exactly, I knew you would catch on to it. Now, I want to run an idea by you, if you'll follow me to my office?"

Somewhat confused, she followed him backstage, down a hallway and up a flight of steps. He paused before a door and unlocked it, motioning for her to step inside first. "Erik, what have you got up your sleeve?" She asked as he followed her inside and switched on the overhead light.

He shrugged, and motioned to his desk. Christine turned to find her toe shoes and the standard warm-up outfit worn by the other ballerinas onstage. She stepped forward and stroked the ribbons of her shoes. "Erik, does this mean…?"

He moved behind her and brought his arms around her waist. He kissed her neck and held her to him. "I want to see you dance the way you love, the way you were born to dance. Please?" He asked. It had never occurred to him that she might refuse.

Christine turned in his arms and held him close. "Yes. Just let me change and I'll dance for you."

Christine took her place in line with the other dancers and as Erik and Raoul watched from the audience, she dominated the stage in a way she never had before. All rustiness was shed the instant she'd slipped into the shoes. Erik's eyes were dazzled as he watched her leap, turn and twist along with the other ballerinas.

He was impressed that she had remembered the choreography, but he had to remind himself that she'd been trained for years to capture such patterns, and thus be able to move through them at a moment's notice.

She was graceful, beautiful, dazzling.

Erik could feel himself falling in love all over again.

Beside him, Raoul felt the same way.