Christine

I can't hide my sigh of relief when Erik agrees to stay.

"But no more kissing," he declares.

I'm tempted to argue but he crosses his arms and gives me a look so forbidding that I just nod. My father was gentle and indulgent; I don't know what to make of Erik's sternness. He was incredibly strict as the Angel of Music. Apparently that's not going to change now that I know he's a man.

"Turn around," he commands gruffly.

I obey and he unbuttons my gown, sliding it off my shoulders and letting it pool around my feet. Then he unlaces my corset and allows it to fall to the floor. His fingers momentarily brush my back through my chemise causing me to shiver. "Under the covers, Christine."

I slide between the sheets and watch him, my heart pounding. He picks up my gown and corset, places the corset in a drawer, and hangs the gown in the small wardrobe. I try not to stare at him as he toes off his boots, unties his cravat, and removes his collar and waistcoat. He gets in bed next to me still in his trousers, but I don't comment. Instead I reach to gently stroke the small area of his chest left bare by his open shirt. He allows it for only a moment before catching my hand and bringing it to his lips.

"Turn over." I turn and Erik snuggles against my back, placing one arm under my head and the other over my waist. "I love you," he murmurs into my hair.

"I love you, too. Thank you for staying with me."

I take a breath to say how wonderful it feels to be lying in his arms, but he shushes me. "Go to sleep, Christine. You need your rest for rehearsal tomorrow. If you don't sleep, I shall have to leave."

I relax in his arms and simply appreciate the solid warmth of his body pressed against mine.

I wake the next morning from the most refreshing sleep I've had in years. Erik is still asleep and the arm draped across me has become a dead weight. It doesn't take long before it becomes unbearably heavy. I wriggle and Erik rolls over onto his back. I turn and lay my head on his chest. I could stay like this, listening to the strong, steady beat off his heart for hours, but I must prepare for rehearsal.

"Erik."

"Hmm?"

"Erik, it's morning. I need to get ready for rehearsal."

His arm curls around me and he kisses the top of my head. "In a moment," he mumbles.

Who am I to argue?

Erik

I reflect on last night as I leave Christine to return to my home and prepare for my first move against the new managers. I wonder if she knows she could have talked all night long and I would never have found the strength to get out of that bed. Thankfully, she fell for my bluff.

Once home, I bathe and dress in fresh clothes. I make my way through the hidden passages in the theater until I find the new managers watching the rehearsal from their private box. I hide myself in a secret compartment in the wall and smirk towards the two men. I can see them through a thin slit, but they'll never be able to spot it. My prodigious skills in ventriloquy along with a few well-timed, though minor, "accidents" helped me bring Lefèvre firmly under my control rather quickly. Hopefully it works as well on these two old fools. I make my voice seem as though it is emanating from all around them.

"Did I not plainly state that Miss Daae was to play the Countess?"

They jump and look around wildly. They begin to search the box and the hall outside, but of course they don't manage to find me. Imbeciles. It's all I can do not to laugh aloud.

"Must...must have imagined it." Firmin states.

"Yes, of course, we are both over tired with all the work of taking over the theater," Andre agrees.

Men will go to any lengths to explain away the supernatural. Do they really think they could both be having the same hallucination? I make my voice truly menacing. "Do as I say, gentlemen, or a disaster beyond your imagination will occur."

I leave them quaking in their shoes and disappear into the hidden passages again. I return home to get some composing done before it's time to return to Christine's dressing room. Before I start working on my music, I whip up a special little concoction to replace Carolotta's ludicrous throat spray. I'm almost hoping the new managers don't capitulate so I'll have the chance to humiliate the horrid woman.

When Christine returns to her dressing room, she is calmer than last night. I enter the room once the door is locked. "Any trouble from Carlotta today, my love?"

"Not much. I think she used all the insults her tiny brain could come up with yesterday."

It's not like Christine to talk this way. I'm torn between amusement and a desire to scold her. I love her kind and innocent heart and don't like this sudden penchant for spiteful talk, even if it is directed at Carlotta and fully deserved.

She's giving me a troubled look. "I shouldn't say such wicked things, even if they are about Carlotta."

I nod relieved that I don't have to be the one to say it. "She is a nasty piece of work, but you're right. You are the better woman, try to remember that."

She smiles and begins her lesson without me even having to ask.