Christine paced nervously in her dressing room, barely sparing a glance for the mirror as it rolled back silently.

She continued to pace and wring her hands as Erik watched for a moment.

"Christine," he admonished gently. "Don't tense your shoulders like that."

She stopped pacing and spun to face him.

"How could they do this with so little notice?"

"I know, sweet, I know," he crooned, coming to stand in front of her. "But stressing over it won't help."

He turned her around by the shoulders until her back was to him.

"You always get so nervous before auditions, yet never before shows - I'll never understand it," he chuckled as he rested his hands atop her tense shoulders, kneading his thumbs into the stiff muscles there.

"The managers really went out on a limb with this one," she sighed.

The Opera Populaire had recently hired an eccentric man who was both composer and director to bring his latest opera to their stage, and the very first act of this new director was to call for an in-company audition to be held for his latest show - the performers were in quite a tizzy over it. It seemed this director held little regard for the contracts most of the performers had, and the managers were rather regretting allowing him to do whatever he wished - but they were hoping by the end of it all, the show would be the talk of Paris and beyond.

"Indeed. And now you, my dear, must go out on a limb of your own."

She wrinkled her nose.

"I did so awful at my last audition, Erik. What if I mess this one up too?"

"You have nothing to lose, Christine."

"He'll make me a tree in the background!"

"You would make the most lovely tree in existence," his dark chuckle wrapped around her.

She met his golden eyes in the vanity mirror before them. It had been months since they danced together and neither one had brought up the topic that had been discussed that night. At this point, she wasn't certain if they ever would. She let her eyes slide closed as her shoulders relaxed into his touch.

He loved her. Had there truly been any denying it, even before he had accidentally spoken it?

"There," he murmured as the tension released. "Much better."

She opened her eyes and met his gaze again as they both lingered there a moment longer.

He hadn't said anything about it again, had barely even treated her any differently afterwards (though, of course, before the dance Erik had taken care to avoid touching her at all - certainly not the case any longer). How long had he felt that way towards her? How long had he been hiding those feelings? It made her heart ache to think about. It was different than how it was with Raoul - she knew Raoul loved her, he had been bold enough to, at the very least, insinuate his feelings if not state them outright. But Erik had never let her know. She doubted he ever would have, either, had she not offered him that kiss.

"There," he said again softly, and gave her shoulders one last little squeeze before he reluctantly pulled away from her.

He cleared his throat and began to pace the room, as though her nervousness had been transferred to him.

"You'll sing Elissa's final solo from Hannibal as your audition piece," he told her, and she frowned.

"I don't think I'm ready for that," she fretted.

"Nonsense, you're simply nervous. You've been working on that piece for some time now, I'm certain you are ready."

"I don't want to butcher your lovely song!"

He shook his head.

"It showcases your voice far better than your current audition pieces, even if you aren't as comfortable with it as the rest. This is your chance, Christine - this man clearly doesn't care about hierarchy or contracts, only about the voice. He could make you prima donna, but he's not going to do so if he can't hear what you're capable of."

She placed a hand on her throat. Prima donna. Could it finally be happening?

"What if I forget the words like in the last audition?"

He stopped pacing, turning to face her.

"Christine," he said gently, his grand plans for her remarkable future that was about to unfold in front of her now melting away to be replaced with care for the still very nervous and not-yet-prima-donna she was. "We've been working on that, remember? You've been doing wonderfully. If you forget - and I don't think you will - but if you do, simply sing anything, just like we've practiced."

She nodded, thinking of what they had been working on in their lessons.

"We can do more, if you wish," he added. "We can do a lesson every day until the audition if that would make you feel better."

"Yes, please," she sighed and sank down into her chair.

The audition was a mere week away.

He led her down the familiar tunnels to his home, and she tried to let the echoing silence and faint drip of water clear the buzzing thoughts from her mind.

Once there, he had her sit on the couch and put her feet up on the ottoman while he talked to her about anything other than music or opera to take her mind off of what was making her so nervous. He brought her some tea, and it wasn't until she had drank the whole cup that he finally rose from his chair and announced it was time for their lesson.

To her dismay she found he didn't intend to work on improvisation anymore - they had spent a good few months practicing that skill. Erik would pick a song, then he would pick a particular verse and tell her she could sing anything but the correct words there, and she would have precious few seconds to come up with something to sing there instead. Sometimes she only managed nonsense that hardly fit the rest of the song, but sometimes she managed to work something out that was quite nice. She had come a long way since they had first started, and how when she would get to the missing verse and stall or stutter and Erik, over the pounding of the piano keys (for he certainly wasn't going to stop playing if she missed her cue) would shout sing! at her until she finally sang whatever case to mind.

"But Erik-"

He shook his head.

"With the audition so close, the only thing you need to focus on is the song you're going to be singing. You already know you can improvise, and if we spend enough time on this song you won't even have to.

She frowned. He did have a point, but still the memories of her last audition, of how she had stood on the stage frozen with wide eyes as the music played on without her, they still haunted her. She couldn't bear it if the same thing were to happen again. But she trusted Erik, so she went along with his advice.

She scanned over the sheet music and readied herself to sing. Elissa was the female lead from an opera Erik had written, and it was a role he had created with her in mind. As such, it would be music no one had ever heard before, although he had hope that one day it could be performed onstage, a marvelous little show written by an anonymous composer and headlined by Christine.

She sighed a little as she read the lyrics that she already had memorized, smoothing a hand across the paper.

The princess Elissa and army general Hannibal fell in love only for Hannibal to have to leave and face an uncertain fate as he continued his duties in far off lands. The song that Christine would be singing would take place just as Hannibal was about to leave, and it always made Christine feel terribly wistful.

She could still remember quite clearly the conversation they had had when he first showed it to her and she had read the lyrics for her part.

She'd been sitting on the couch as he sat on the piano bench, anxiously awaiting her opinion on the work.

"It's a lovely opera," she'd said. "But-"

"But?"

She squirmed a little.

"Oh, I wish that Hannibal didn't have to leave her."

He chuckled.

"I'm afraid that wouldn't have the same effect on the audience, my dear. A little tragedy now and then stirs the emotion, does it not?"

She fiddled with papers, looking at Elissa's final solo again. Stirred emotion was certainly a way of putting it - the story and the music together made her wish for it to have a happier ending than it did. She could picture a dozen ways that it could be changed, that they could spend the rest of their days together! But- that was how it ended. Hannibal had to leave, and Elissa had to stay behind. Christine frowned. Elissa was a princess, which probably meant at some point she'd have to marry a prince from somewhere to secure her kingdom's future and safety - but the lyrics clearly implied that she would still love Hannibal every day of her life. That thought made it feel like someone was squeezing something deep inside of her. Imagine, to love someone and know that it would never work out...

Perhaps it was childish and naive and unrealistic, and perhaps it belied her twenty three years of age, but she liked stories where everything worked out in the end.

"But they love each other," she bordered dangerously close to pouting. "I don't like that they can't be together. It's so sad."

He had played a few random chords on the piano, refusing to look at her.

"Love often is," he had told her, and that funny twisting feeling in her stomach had gotten worse.

He sat at the piano now, playing for her as she sang that very same song she had been working on memorizing ever since that day he'd first given it to her. He looked sad as he played, she thought. Or perhaps lost in thought. Even still the beautiful melody poured out from his fingers as they traveled across the keys, never missing a note.

She sought his eye out, but he paid no notice, his gaze falling straight ahead at the wall, unseeing. She placed her hands behind her back to hide how they nervously twisted and picked at each other.

"On that day, that not so distant day, when you are far away and free-" she closed her own eyes, not able to stand that look of sadness on his face.

No, not sadness, she thought wryly - resignation.

"And though it's clear, though it was always clear, that this was never meant to be, if you happen to remember, stop and think of me."

The lyrics were not lost on her. Not anymore. When he had first shown her the song, she hadn't fully realized what had likely been in his mind when wrote it. Or perhaps she had - perhaps that was what had stuck her as that wistful, uncomfortable longing it created in her. There was certainly no denying it after Valentine's Day. It been a month or so afterwards, after she knew without doubt that he loved her, that she had realized what - who - the song was about.

It was about them. Her and him.

What a funny thing, really. He had written a song that was a plea from him to her and then had her sing it back to him.

There was no denying that it was a good song - it was not merely hubris or a twisted lovesickness that caused him to write it, no. As a work it stood on its on own, and of course no one would guess at what had inspired it.

No one but her.

Perhaps that was what irked her all the more about it. She could understand if he had written a wish-fulfillment opera in which the two main characters who were madly in love despite everything, even if that would be a little embarrassing to sing for him (she was not aware of a certain other opera, a Don Juan Triumphant, not in the least), but this? To write a beautiful love story and then have it end on such a final and melancholy note? When it was supposed to be about the two of them? It irked her to no end. Wasn't their own ending still unwritten and unknown? And yet he was so certain that they were not meant to be together. She, on the other hand... wasn't so sure.

Melancholy feelings aside, she had to admit it was a very lovely song.
It ended, and the last notes faded away. Erik paused before he turned to her, finally meeting her eye. Some of the cloud of sadness that was hanging over him seemed to lift just a little, and she had to wonder if perhaps there was not a hint of masochistic tendency in someone who would choose to be reminded over and over of the swiftly impending loss of someone they loved. He would have to play this song for her every day, after all.

"Let's work on your cadenza," he said a little distantly, and she nodded.

She went back above after her lesson that day, but the next day she asked to stay the night, and of course he agreed.

"You're quite welcome to stay as long as you wish, although I unfortunately have a prior obligation for this evening. I trust you don't mind being on your own for a few hours?"

"No," she shook her head. "That's fine."

He was too embarrassed to tell her that his obligation was dinner with Nadir - the first Thursday and third Sunday of each month had been set aside for Nadir to bring a meal for the two of them to share in Box Five, and he knew Nadir would not let him back out of their arrangement so easily, even if it was for Christine.

He sighed a little as he tried to quickly prepare the gondola for the journey - this was, miraculously, one of the very few times that he would have to leave the blessed presence of her in his house, but regardless of how little it happened, he still hated it. He much rather would have been able to spend as long as he could with her, but- it wouldn't do to have to Daroga come looking for him.

He pushed the gondola forward with ferocity, urging it towards its destination with as much strength as he could muster. He wanted as much time around her as he could, and they quicker they reached his house the longer they would be together before he had to leave for dinner.

Christine wrapped her fingers around the edge of the boat. They were certainly moving fast tonight. Suddenly she heard Erik give a little grunt of pain, and the boat slowed considerably. She turned to look back at him, concerned.

He was hunched forward, his arms wrapped around himself and his head bowed, seemingly holding his breath.

"Erik? Are you alright?"

He was silent a moment then gave a short nod.

"Fine," he said, but sounded out of breath.

Her brow knit.

"Are you sure?"

He poled the gondola forward again, but much slower this time, and she noticed how his hands trembled.

"I'm sure."

She turned to face towards again, frowning deeply. He didn't seem fine at the time, but she watched him closely through their lesson, and he really did act as though nothing were out of the ordinary.

"There is stew on the stove, whenever you are ready to have some," he told her as he prepared to leave. "Of course you may go to bed as early as you wish, as well."

"Thank you," she nodded and smiled as he patted her arm kindly, and she had already decided that she would stay up however late she had to so that they could talk some more when he returned.

He paused just a moment in the doorway, taking a long look at her before he headed out. He wanted to remember that little smile of hers always.

As he stood on the bank of the underground lake he sighed. He felt antsy for just a moment, knowing that once he took the gondola it would incredibly difficult for Christine to make her way back above if he did not come back. He eyed the rope ladder but knew better than to try it, not in his current state. He had barely managed it the last time he'd tried it, and did not want a repeat of that. There was nothing for it - he took the gondola out onto the water.

Nadir was there in Box Five, smiling and laughing good-naturedly, teasing Erik about how long it had taken him to arrive for dinner, for Erik had indeed arrived nearly half an hour late.

"I was afraid you weren't going to come," he said. "And after I went to the trouble of making those almond cakes you used to love so much back when we were in Persia!"

Erik grit his teeth and said nothing about why he was late, no mention of the heavy tightness in his chest that scared him so, the sudden pounding of his heart as it skipped beats, how he'd break out in a cold sweat when it happened and feel like the room was spinning. He'd taken the journey across the lake extra slow - he wanted to take no chances after the episode when he was ferrying Christine. It was a feeling that lately would often come on with any kind of exertion, and he was not keen on experiencing it.

He said nothing of all this, merely sat and took one of the little cakes Nadir had made, taking a bite of it.

"They're good," Erik admitted, and Nadir smiled wider.

"Do you remember that dish I used to make all the time, the one with the saffron rice and the fish?"

Erik raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

Nadir took the lid off the crock he had brought with him, and a delicious aroma filled the air.

Erik chuckled.

"How you don't remain sick of this dish, I'll never know," Erik shook his head. "It seemed you ate this every day back then."

"When it tastes this good, why bother with anything else?" Nadir grinned.

Erik raised a glass of wine.

"You might just have a point there, Daroga."

Erik's worries remained in the back of his mind, although he did enjoy the dinner. When it came time to leave, he surprised Nadir by thanking him for cooking. He took his time going across the lake, almost certain that Christine would be asleep by the time he arrived, and he, in turn, was pleasantly surprised to find he was wrong.

"Christine," he breathed as he saw her there reclining on the couch. "Sweet, what are you doing up? It's late."

Her face turned a little pink as she sat up.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"About what?"

She shrugged and looked embarrassed.

"About anything."

He laughed lightly, his worry finally melting away as he sat down on the other end of the couch. He had to press down the urge to pull her into his arms and hold her, to bury his face in her hair and simply stay like that forever. She was such sweet perfection, did she even know that? He might not be able to hold her, but he contented himself with a conversation on the couch. How he hoped there would be so many more nights like these ahead of him.