Author's Note: Thank you for the lovely reviews and follows! I really appreciate every single one.

A slightly shorter chapter this time, as it seemed a natural place to pause.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter Three: The Jewel Song

The new show would open the following evening, and the company gathered for a final rehearsal.

Erik was late again, and while Gerard shook his head in apparent despair, he seemed to lack the nerve to berate him.

When the illusionist finally did appear, he stood at the back of the auditorium, arms folded beneath his dark coat. Occasionally Christine glanced in his direction, and found him looking at her. He would always look quickly away.

The rehearsal got off to a slow start, with a series of misfortunes befalling Robert the conjuror. Every trick he attempted went wrong. The playing cards slipped from his hands, and hidden items dropped out of his sleeves. He lost the pocket watch which Gerard had loaned him for a trick, and was unable to make it reappear. The dove he conjured from empty air – the true star of his act, Christine thought - escaped from its cage and went flying up to perch on an arm of the chandelier.

In the end, Robert marched off the stage, muttering obscenities, and casting an evil glare in Erik's direction.

Erik did not move, and his mask hid any emotion he might have felt.

His act passed without any hitches. Christine was relieved, as there seemed to be an awful lot that could go wrong with fireballs.

She was fully prepared for some sort of catastrophe to occur during her own performance, and she made her way onto the stage with a degree of trepidation.

"Miss Daae?" The timid voice belonged to Julian, the young pianist.

She smiled at him. "Yes?"

"I'm afraid I've lost my copy of the sheet music, Miss."

Christine looked again at Erik. He had moved closer to the stage, and although she may have been mistaken, she thought his posture had stiffened slightly. He was twisting his long pale fingers together.

"Really?" said Christine. "Oh dear. I can't think what could have happened to that."

"It probably went the same way as the pocket watch," grumbled Robert.

"You wouldn't happen to…ah…have a spare copy, would you?" said Julian.

Christine was still looking at Erik. She recognised his posture, now. He looked like one of her unwilling music students when she had asked them if they had been practising their scales. Guilty.

"I was practising last night. I've probably left it in my dressing room. I'll fetch it later," said Christine. She smiled at Erik. His eyes seemed to widen within the frame of the mask, but his tense hands relaxed.

"I'll borrow David's," said Julian, and the violinist nodded.

Fortunately, no further bad luck befell her.

Erik watched her performance with the same rapt attention as he had exhibited the previous day. The intensity of his gaze was starting to unnerve her a little. She wondered if he would approach her, perhaps offer an apology for the way he had spoken to her the previous night, and for stealing her sheet music. But by the time she was back in the auditorium, he had already gone.

"Miss Daae?" said Gerard, as the rehearsal was breaking up. "A word?"

Gerard was looking a bit sheepish. He forced a smile. "You were wonderful...but I've been thinking. That second song…the moon one… it's lovely but it's a little -how do I put this? Intense. Emotional. I was wondering if you could add a third song to tomorrow's programme? Something a bit lighter to finish with?"

Christine wasn't offended. She had been half expecting this. 'Song to the Moon' had felt rather out of place in this colourful, shabby little theatre.

"Of course. What would you suggest?"

"I'd like you to stick with your operatic repertoire for the moment. But perhaps something more up tempo? Fun?"

Christine thought for a moment, and smiled. "I have just the thing."

"Wonderful! Your lodgings will be ready soon. Can I ask you to slum it in here for just a few more night?"

Christine was starting to suspect that Gerard had no money to pay for her accommodation. Perhaps he was deliberately waiting until after opening night.

"Of course. Thank you, Gerard."

When the impresario had gone, Christine went briefly to her room, and returned clutching the one full opera score she had brought with her to London.

She sat down at the upright piano at the far left of the stage. The instrument was old and had some superficial scratches, the varnish dull, but it still had a good tone and had been well maintained.

She knew the score for Faust backwards, and 'The Jewel Song'seemed perfect for Gerard's purposes. She only hoped it would not prove too obscure for her new audience.

She had been playing and singing for about five minutes when a page of music escaped from the old book and fluttered to the floor. She turned to retrieve it.

Erik was standing in the wings.

Christine gave a yell of fright, and the magician started, flinging up his hands in a defensive gesture.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to frighten you…I only wished to listen. But I'll leave now."

He started to turn away. Her loud exclamation had apparently shaken him, because he suddenly looked like a completely different man. While performing his magic, he was all dignified poise and power. But now there was something defeated about him, something sad in the slump of his shoulders.

Christine felt herself soften. "It's all right. You can stay and listen, if you wish."

He lifted his head a fraction, but did not move from the wings.

Realising he wasn't going to come any closer, Christine thought it best to continue. She started to sing. Her rendition of 'The Jewel Song' was a little rusty. It was a while since she had sung the part, but she knew it would improve with practice.

When the song was finished, she heard a sound behind her. A soft sigh. Erik had been so quiet that she'd forgotten he was even there.

She turned around and found him staring at her. He had come closer without a sound. There was a strange glow in his eyes.

"What is that music?" he asked, voice soft with something like wonder.

"It's from Gounod's Faust. It's called 'The Jewel Song'."

"It's quite something."

Christine smiled. So the magician had an appreciation for French opera. Interesting.

"There are lovelier parts. Come here, I'll show you the score."

He hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward. Christine turned the pages of music, showing him her favourite passages.

"…and this part is called Anges purs, anges radieux. Marguerite is a wonderful role to sing. She was my favourite role in Paris."

"You've sung this?" His eyes widened. "The whole thing?"

"Yes. At the Garnier." She paused, trying to suppress a pang of homesickness. "Do you read music, Erik?"

He shook his head. "No. I can play a little, if I hear something first. By ear. I just sort of…remember it." He hesitated. "Would you play that final piece for me? I'd very much like to hear it."

She was surprised by his interest, but also pleased. "Of course."

Christine played the piece through, singing Marguerite's part as well as she was able.

Afterwards, she looked up at Erik. He looked away.

"That's very beautiful," he said.

She smiled. "Thank you."

He was silent for a moment. She realised he was nervous: he was twisting his hands together again.

"I'm sorry about the sheet music," he said. "I merely borrowed it. I meant to return it, and forgot. I'm…not a thief."

Christine thought of the pocket watch, and her mouth twitched. "Of course not. Please don't give it another thought."

Another long pause. The magician studied his feet. Finally, as if he had gathered his courage, he straightened.

"Miss Daae, may I ask you something?"

She nodded.

"I was deplorably rude to you last night, and I'm…sorry. You took me by surprise. Singing is a private thing for me…no one else knows about it, and I've always been happy with that. But last night…what you said about technique and breath control..." He paused, and met her gaze. "I was wondering if you were serious?"

"About what?"

"About helping me."

"Of course."

He looked away again. "I thought you might be mocking me."

"I'd never mock anyone's singing voice. As I said, I used to teach." She smiled at the memory of her spoiled aristocratic students, who seemed so very different from this man in front of her. She could already tell that coaching him would prove a challenge, and yet…he was being so unassuming about it.

Christine came to a decision. "I'll teach you if you wish it, Erik. It would be my pleasure."

His strange eyes seemed to light up, but then abruptly dimmed again. "I don't have any money. At least, not until a week into the run…"

"I'm not asking for money." Although it would be useful. She forced a smile. "I would like a student, Erik, but you don't need to give me an answer right now. I'll be here every night after the show. I'll wait by the piano. Just come and find me."

He was quiet for a moment, regarding her with a puzzled expression, as if wondering if he could trust her. At last he gave a slight bow. "Thank you, Miss Daae. I'll let you know."

She watched as he slipped into the shadows of the wings.

When she went to collect the score of Faust from the piano, she found the missing sheet music tucked between the pages.