A/N: Finally, another chapter. Fair warning, this is a really long chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but my twisted story ideas. *heh, heh, heh*

Guardian Angel

Erik spent the afternoon helping Michelle finish the small meal they were having for Christmas dinner. It was small because the party was going to have a rather large assortment of delicacies for the guests to sample.

Michelle had been a little worried about what she would wear to the formal gathering; she had no formal gowns with her. She finally decided to add a bit of lace Meg had brought her to one of her regular gowns, and maybe alter it to make it more suitable. Now the finished product was lying on her bed.

Erik had his own worries about the party. How could he remain unnoticed and still play the part of Michelle's escort? The answer came almost immediately. People often wore their costumes to such gatherings, and some of the minor characters wore masks. All he had to do was find one, and he would be fine. Satisfied with that conclusion, Erik left his room, where he had been musing, and headed for the dinning room, where their Christmas dinner was to be had. On the way there, Erik paused and looked beneath the tree, not for the first time that day. There were already gifts there when he put his presents to Michelle under. Quite a few, he'd noticed. And they all were addressed to "Erik". Him. He felt a strange twist in his chest at the thought of Michelle getting him something for Christmas. But he had to wonder, where did she get them?

He shrugged to himself and continued to the dinning room. He could ask her when they opened gifts after dinner and before they went to the party. Erik grinned. The party. He knew what Michelle was going to wear: that silly little dress trimmed with a piece of lace. Not that she wouldn't look charming. She was always lovely, though she didn't seem to know it. She looked like an angel when she slept; Erik knew because he had been watching her at night in case she had a nightmare, which she had, so she wouldn't be alone, which she wasn't. It had given him plenty of time to study her features. Probably a dumb idea on his part, but...

Erik fervently hoped that she would wear on of the gowns he bought her to the soiree because in a beautiful gown like one of those, she would be breathtaking.

He slipped into the dinning room. The table was already set and the food was on the table. Michelle was pouring white wine into two glasses, her back to him. Smiling like a crocodile, Erik silently sneaked behind her. She finished filling the glasses and placed them in their appropriate spots, one by the plate at the head of the table, and the other at the setting right next to it. Once all the glass was out of her hands, Erik placed his mouth right next to her ear and said softly, "Is dinner ready?"

Startled, Michelle jumped and spun around. "Erik," she said, taking a deep breath to calm herself. Regaining her composure, she glared at him. "Don't do that to a person."

Erik grinned. "Turnabout is fair play."

Michelle sniffed. "That's a cliché, and yes, dinner is ready."

Still grinning, Erik took his seat at the head of the table, only to jump up just in time to hold Michelle's chair for her. She smiled her thanks as he returned to his own seat. Erik reached for platter of succulent looking goose, but Michelle stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Aren't we going to say grace?" At his confused look, Michelle smiled a little. "I know we don't usually, but... well, it is Christmas." After a moment, Erik took back his arm, placed his hands on the table, and waited for Michelle to do something. "Haven't you ever said grace before?" she asked.

Erik grinned (he was doing that a lot lately). "Sure. Grace." Michelle gave him a withering look. His grin faded. "No, I've never said grace before."

Michelle studied him. "Hmm. Okay. Just bow your head." Michelle bowed her own head and placed her hands in her lap. Erik followed her example. "Dear Heavenly Father," she began. "We thank You for this food before us and that we are here together in health and happiness. We ask you to bless this food to our bodies on this day of Your Son's birth. Amen," she finished.

Erik echoed, "Amen." Then they helped themselves to succulent goose, plum pudding, potatoes, green beans, hot biscuits, cranberry sauce, and roasted chestnuts.

After the meal, Erik and Michelle went into the parlor to the tree. Michelle said happily, "Now we open presents." She sat in front of the tree and, reluctantly, Erik followed suit. "Oh," she exclaimed. "I almost forgot our stockings."

"Excuse me?"

Michelle laughed gaily as she took something off the mantle of the fireplace. "Our stockings." She presented him with a large stocking made out of bright green velvet and lined around the opening with white velvet. "You hang it over the fireplace so people can put small presents in it." She put it in his hand. "Do you like it," she asked hesitantly.

Erik held the heavy stocking with reverence. "Yes. It's beautiful."

Michelle smiled. "I made it myself." She could have bit her tongue. That sounded so childish.

Erik didn't notice. "You sew beautifully."

Relieved, Michelle smiled and started emptying out her red stocking. Erik watched for a moment, then blurted, "Don't you already know what's in there?"

Michelle smiled. "Yes, but that doesn't make it taste any worse."

Erik saw that she was referring to the dried fruit she had retrieved. Then he shook his head and started emptying his own stocking. He found the same dried fruit, and under it was a small wrapped package. He looked at Michelle, but she paid not attention to him. He slowly unwrapped it, savoring the anticipation of his very first present. He pulled away the last piece of wrapping and found a small box. Hesitantly, as if worried that it was nothing, Erik removed to top to reveal a beautifully designed gold fob watch and chain. "I thought you might want one," Michelle's soft voice said. She had been paying more attention than he had thought. Erik looked at the watch, then at her. He smiled and said, "Thank you." If his smile was a little shaky and his voice a bit hoarse, Michelle didn't notice.

Erik and Michelle had finished opening their gifts. Erik had been surprised and please with his new black cape with purple lining ("Yours was getting shabby," Michelle said), and his green knit scarf ("I made that, too."), and the bottle of rather expensive wine, and a new violin case. "Your old one was a bit battered," she had said. Erik hadn't even known that she paid any attention to his things. The fact that she did delighted him.

Michelle was amazed by her gifts: a white lace fan, white pearls, a music box (which played a song Erik put in), a burgundy velvet cloak with fur lining, and three pairs of slippers.

"Oh my goodness," she gasped when she opened the box containing the slippers. The other gifts had been opened and were scattered around on display. Erik sat in a chair and watched Michelle's reaction.

"They are so beautiful," she cried. "Oh, I wish I had something to wear them with."

*Time for the grand finale,* Erik thought, standing. "Actually, you do." Ignoring Michelle's look of confusion, Erik went over to his favorite chair, the one with the secret passage, and opened the hidden door. From the passageway he retrieved the three boxes with the gowns and put them in front of Michelle, then went back to his seat. Michelle just stared dumbly at him. "Well," he said, "Open them."

Michelle tore at the wrappings and ribbons on the first box and ripped off the lid. When she saw what was inside, she gasped. She lifted the sea green gown out of the box and held it to herself. "It's beautiful," she whispered. "It's the most beautiful dress I've ever seen." Erik smiled, knowing from the glow in her eyes that she was telling the truth. She stood up, still holding the gown, and spun around. "It's simply gorgeous," she said again.

Erik stood and went over to her and lifted her chin to look in her eyes. "Wear it tonight," he said softly.

Michelle's breath caught when he touched her and hadn't returned yet. His asking her to wear the gown with that tone to his voice and that look in his eye wasn't helping. Somehow she found enough strength to take a breath and say, "Alright."

Erik smiled softly and her knees turned to jelly. "You should go get ready," he said, hoping she didn't notice the husky note in his voice.

She did, but tried to ignore it since it made her heart beat double-time. "But what about the others?" she said, wishing it hadn't come out so soft.

"You can open them later."

Michelle nodded and reluctantly stepped away from his stimulating presence and into her room to get ready.

When he heard the door to Michelle's room close, Erik finally let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He went over to sit in the chair he had earlier vacated and put his head in his hand. He had come dangerously close to kissing her. He probably would have, if he had been forced to spend another moment in her vicinity. Not that it was her fault. She hadn't asked to have him panting after her. It was the one thing he shouldn't do. *You're supposed to be protecting her from killers,* he reminded himself while trying to regain some self-control. It wasn't easy knowing that she was in the next room changing into that dress with only a door between them. Well, a door and his own sense of duty. But how long until his sense of duty was no longer enough to keep him away.

*Just don't let that happen,* Erik told himself. *It mustn't happen. If it does-*

Erik didn't want to think of that because if he did, he'd know that he wouldn't be able to let Michelle go. Or maybe it was already too late.

"Ahem."

Erik turned to look at Michelle, who had just emerged from her room. His breath caught in his throat. She was a vision in the sea-green silk, the full skirt making her trim waist seem even smaller, and the small puffed off-the-shoulder sleeves bringing his attention to her exposed skin and the hint of cleavage that peeked out from the bodice. Her hair had been fashioned into some sort of elegant hairstyle on the top of her head with a few stray wisps left loose to tease her bare neck and shoulders. He stood and walked around her, pretending to examine when he was really admiring.

He was also making Michelle rather nervous. "So," she said, trying for a light tone. "How do I look?"

Erik stopped in front of her and looked her over critically. "There's something missing," he murmured. He turned to the tree and the scattered mess of gifts, searched around for a moment, and turned back with the pearl choker in his hand. He slid behind her and fastened it around her neck. Her breath hitched at the feel of his fingers on her neck. He wasn't even wearing gloves to subdue the sensations.

Erik, on the other hand, was deliberately lingering. He leaned forward a little and inhaled her scent. She smelled like a field of wildflowers. He loved wildflowers.

After a long minute, Erik turned Michelle around to face him. "Perfect," he said. Michelle raised her left hand to touch the pearls, and Erik noticed something on her wrist. "What is that?" he asked.

Michelle looked down at the diamond bracelet. "Oh, my father gave this to me. I thought it looked nice with the dress."

Erik nodded. "It does." *Probably some sort of crystal,* he thought. "I think it's time to go," he said.

Michelle nodded, then glanced at the considerable pile of gifts. "Can I wear my new cloak?" she ask shyly.

Erik smiled, pleased that she would want to, then picked it up and held it for her. Michelle stepped into it, turned around, and reached for the strings to tie it closed. Erik turned back to his chair and located his own cape and gloves and put them on. Then he opened to passageway to the labyrinth, offered Michelle his arm, and led her into the darkness. "Don't let go of my arm," he said. "It's easy to get lost down here."

Michelle glanced at him, as well as she could in the almost complete darkness. "Have you ever?"

"Have I ever what?"

Michelle heard the smile in his voice and knew he was teasing her. "Gotten lost."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I have an excellent sense of direction."

Michelle sniffed lightly. "Uh-huh."

Erik looked at her. "It's true."

"Okay."

"It is."

"I believe you."

Erik smiled at her disbelieving tone. "No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"Do not."

"Do to."

"Do not."

"Do to."

"Do not."

"When did we become children?"

At that, Erik threw back his head and laughed. Michelle waited for him to finish. And waited. And waited.

She finally cut him off in mid-chuckle. "It wasn't that funny."

Erik, who had finally gotten himself under control, wiped his eyes. "I know. I'm sorry. It was just unexpected."

"Well I wasn't going to walk all the way to the party bickering like a child."

Erik chuckled again. "Of course."

Michelle glanced at him to see if he was going to laugh again (not very bright of her, since she still couldn't see him), and noticed something she hadn't before. "Erik," she said, surprised. "Your eyes are glowing."

His eyes, which resembled two golden glowing embers, widened. "Um... yes." He turned away, embarrassed, and quickly resumed walking, gently pulling Michelle along.

"Erik?" she said uncertainly. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing," he responded gruffly.

Michelle frowned concernedly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Because I didn't mean to embarrass you, if that's what's wrong-"

"Nothing is wrong," he growled impatiently.

Michelle shrunk back a little. "Alright," she said. Then after a silent moment she said, "I think you have beautiful eyes."

Michelle wanted to kick herself. What had possessed her to tell him that?

Erik was almost as surprised as she was. He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing and let the subject drop.

In a few minutes, Erik stopped. "Here we are," he said.

Michelle looked around for a door, but didn't see one. "We are where?" she asked.

She wasn't sure, but she thought Erik smiled. "At the party." Suddenly an opening appeared behind him. He stuck his head out, probably to see if anyone was around, and then escorted her through. The dimly lighted room proved to be a dressing room, and the opening was through a mirror. She giggled. "It's almost like ALICE IN WONDERLAND. The one where she goes through the mirror." Erik nodded, even though he didn't know what she was talking about, and led her out the door.

In the hall, music could faintly be heard from the party. They passed no one while walking to the gathering. When they were approaching the ballroom, Erik stopped. "I need to leave you for a moment" he said.

Michelle looked at him, confused. "Why?"

He smiled wryly. "Because too many people would recognize me in this mask. I need to get a different one."

Michelle narrowed her eyes. "Wouldn't they recognize you just as easily with a different one?"

Erik bent to quickly kiss her cheek. "Trust me," he said, and then ran off.

Michelle stood, stunned by the kiss, such as it was. She raised her hand to touch her cheek. *Oh, my,* she thought. Trust me, he had said. Michelle smiled. *I do, Erik. I do.* She went into the ballroom, gave her cloak to a cloakroom attendant, and joined the party.

* * * * *

Erik slid through the shadows back to the ballroom. His white mask had been replaced with a decorative black one from the prop room. He peeked in at the festivities. Several male actors had worn their masks from the ballet to the party, hoping to be the center of attention. So, naturally, no one paid any attention to them at all.

Smiling, Erik left his cape behind a curtain, where he knew it would be safe, and slid into the ballroom. His eyes immediately found Michelle at the far edge of the room. He felt his breath catch. She was even more beautiful under the bright lights of the ballroom. Her light brown hair shone with gold under the chandelier. He didn't even notice she wasn't alone until she saw him and waved him over. Then he realized that she had acquired a rather substantial group of admirers, from foppish amateurs and boys who thought they were dangerous to women to serious actors and men that knew they were dangerous to women. For a moment, Erik thought of retreating back to the shadows so he wouldn't have to enter the crowd, but immediately thrust that thought away, knowing he couldn't leave a defenseless innocent among that wolf pack. So he reluctantly left his sanctuary of shadows and warily slinked around the dance floor to where Michelle was holding court.

When he got there, Michelle laughed at something one of the men said. Erik was torn between the astonishment of how much she glowed when she laughed, and a desire to put his fist through a wall. She turned to him, still chuckling, and said, "Oh, there you are, Erik." She took his arm and turned to her doting swains. "This is my escort, Erik." The other men nodded cordially. Erik looked around at the group, pleased to find that he was taller than them all by at least two inches. Some of the younger men were wearing masks similar to his. They didn't seem surprised by the presence of one more. Erik nodded back.

Just then, two older men joined the group. "Michelle, dear," one of them said taking her arm from Erik. "I would like you to meet a friend of mine. He's a Russian Duke," he finished in a stage whisper.

The duke took her hand and Michelle dropped into an elegant curtsy. "Your Grace," she said.

The duke bowed over her hand, and looked down her dress in the process. Erik felt a wave of white hot anger wash over him. How dare this pompous Russian ogle her? When the duke rose, he gave Michelle a charming smile, one that had probably left many children scattered around Russia, and said smoothly, "I believe I hear a waltz beginning, my dear. Would you can to join me on the floor?"

Erik was about to tell him exactly where they could join him when Michelle placed a restraining hand on his arm and sweetly stated, "I'm terribly sorry, but I've already promised this dance to my escort. Erik?" She smiled at him and took his arm. Surprised and pleased, Erik gave the group a parting glare and led her to the floor. When they had left the group, Erik felt Michelle shudder. "Ug."

Erik glanced at her. "What?" The musicians were just starting to warm up.

"Oh, I just remembered why I hate Russian duke, that's all."

Erik raised an eyebrow. "Really? And why is that?"

Michelle looked around and stuttered, "Well, he... He was... He looked down my dress!" she blurted out, then blushed.

Erik smiled, relieved that she wasn't impressed with the Russian. "If you like, I could go beat his head in."

Michelle giggled. "No, that won't be necessary. Besides, the music is starting."

The waltz had indeed begun, so Erik bowed, Michelle curtsied, and they began dancing. Erik was amazed at her skill. She danced like a feather, seemingly not even touching the floor. "You dance wonderfully," he said.

Michelle smiled. "So do you."

They danced in silence a moment longer, and then Michelle said, surprised, "I just noticed something."

"What?"

"Your hair. It's red."

Erik looked at her sharply. "What?"

"Well, not red exactly. More of a dark auburn."

Erik was going to get angry again, but she looked so pleased with her discovery that he couldn't become cross. "What color did you expect it to be?" he asked.

Michelle cocked her head to one side. "I don't know. Probably black or dark brown, to match your moodiness." She smiled so the words held no venom.

"I am never moody," Erik said with mock indignation. Michelle threw her head back and laughed, a sweet tinkling sound like a bell. Erik laughed too and spun her around a final time before the dance ended. He escorted her to the edge of the dance floor, away from her waiting admirers. He wanted her all to himself tonight.

He stopped a ways away from the group. "I think this is far enough to go," he said to himself.

Michelle saw the duke heading their way. "I agree, but let's go further." She practically dragged him away until the duke was no longer in their sight.

Erik chuckled at her haste, for he had also seen the Russian. However, he chose not to comment on it. "You really do dance beautifully," he said as they continued strolling around the room. "Do you waltz often?"

Michelle suddenly stopped. "Erik," she said hesitantly. "I need to tell you something."

"What is it?" he asked.

"Well...You have to understand...You see, Nadir said I wasn't supposed to tell, though I don't know why, and I've been so afraid that... Well, it's about my past. Sort of... Well, my father......... Oh," she stamped her foot. "This is so hard to say."

She looked so adorable when she was frustrated that Erik would have laughed, if she hadn't looked as though she were about to cry. "What? What is it?"

She looked at him. "I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I've been so afraid that you would hate me if you knew..."

*Knew what?* he thought as he took hold of her shoulders and forced her to look him in the eye. "Michelle," he said. "I could never hate you."

She sniffled softly. "Really?"

He nodded solemnly. "Really."

A loud wolf whistle interrupted them. Erik and Michelle turned to see several people looking at them, and grinning. "Kiss her!" someone they couldn't see cried out. The rest of the crowd loudly proclaimed their agreement. In the midst of the jeers, Michelle finally realized what they were about. "Oh, no," she groaned softly.

Erik glanced at her. "What?" he whispered. Michelle pointed above their heads, and they both looked up. A green sprig of something was hanging over them. "What is that?" Erik asked.

Michelle blushed. "Mistletoe."

Erik glanced at the still encouraging crowd and back to her. "So?"

Michelle blushed harder. "At Christmas time, when two people are under the mistletoe, they have to kiss." She quickly averted her eyes.

Erik glanced again at the now silent and watching crowd. Heart pounding, Erik lifted his hands to cradle her head. "Well, we wouldn't want to break tradition, would we?"

"No," Michelle breathed.

Erik lowered his head to Michelle's enticingly parted lips looking into her wide eyes until he finally brushed his lips on hers. He retreated a bit almost immediately as a shock that felt like electricity ran through him, from his lips down. But it was a rather nice electricity. Deliberately, Erik lowered his head again. The same shock went through him, but this time he stayed to see what happened next. Slowly, he moved his mouth against hers until she melted against him and clutched his shoulders. Then he slipped his tongue just barely inside her mouth eliciting a small gasp from her. Erik's head was spinning. Sweet. She tasted so sweet. And hot. Her soft body was leaning against his hard one as if she couldn't stand on her own. And maybe she couldn't. Lord knew Erik was having trouble standing himself.

Erik was about to deepen the kiss-and coax Michelle into kissing him back- when he thought he heard someone clapping. Actually, several someones. But why would anyone be clapping? Then Erik remembered that he and Michelle were not alone. He tore his mouth from hers and looked down at Michelle. She hadn't seemed to have noticed their applauding audience. Actually she looked disoriented and... disappointed? That the kiss was over? When she glanced at his mouth, he knew that she was. He shot a quick glance at the assembly and saw that they were thankfully leaving to find more a interesting exhibition. Very, very, very reluctantly, he stepped away from Michelle. She took her arms from his shoulders and refused to meet his eyes. Not surprising considering everything had been changed by that one explosive kiss. Or were there two? Erik looked at her lips, red and swollen from his kisses, and it took all of his substantial self-control not to carry her back to his lair and kiss her properly. Erik's lips twitched. *By which, of course, I mean improperly.*

He looked away from the temptation she presented, choosing instead to watch the other guests talk and flirt and dance. Unexpectedly, Michelle asked him something he had never anticipated hearing. "Erik? Why did you kill Joseph Buquet?"

Erik looked at her, confused. "I didn't."

Now Michelle looked confused. "But I heard from someone...They said you...You said you killed someone."

Erik looked away, shamed to have to admit to this. "Yes. I killed Piangi, though I didn't mean to."

Michelle blinked, as she often did when she was confused. "What?"

"He was a singer..."

"Yes, I know that," she said impatiently. "But if you killed him, then you're not the only ghost in the theatre, because he's right behind you."

Erik stared at her, then turned around. Sure enough, Piangi was not twenty feet away hovering around Carlotta like a loyal puppy.

Erik was speechless. "I thought he was dead."

"And I thought Buquet was murdered."

They stood in silence, contemplating the recently revealed facts. "Well," Michelle finally said. "I am not going to stand around wondering." She started walking off. "Where are going?" Erik asked.

Michelle turned around. "To find out the facts."

"How?"

Michelle smiled at his disbelieving expression. "Trust me. I'm an old hand at this sort of thing. Now you stay here and look charming. I'll be back in a moment."

Erik watched as she disappeared into the crowd. "Charming?" he muttered to himself. "I've never been charming a day in my life."

Michelle slipped through the crowded ballroom. *Let's see,* she thought.*I could join a group of gossipers that might have their facts straight, or I could simply ask Meg or Madame Giry. That would be easiest.* She noticed a group of gossiping ballerinas and grinned. *But what fun is easy, anyway?* Nonchalantly, she closed in on the group, waiting for an opening. She didn't have long to wait.

"Carlotta looks a little rounder, if you know what I mean," one ballerina giggled.

Another one agreed. "Yes. It's nice to know Piangi isn't getting impotent in his old age." A round of scandalized gasps and giggles followed this statement. Michelle used the pause in speech to break in. "It is rather fortunate that he recovered so well from the incident."

Just as she knew they would, the girls all turned their heads to her, the two closest creating and opening to the circle. Michelle smoothly stepped in, acting for all the world as if she belonged there. "What do you mean?" one asked suspiciously.

A passing waiter was carrying a tray with glasses of champagne. Michelle took one and sipped it before answering. "Simply that, in the light of what happened... Well, after his experience with the Phantom, it's a miracle he even survived. Personally, I thought he was gone for good."

"She's perfectly right, you know," another girl exclaimed. "After they found him with that atrocious rope around his neck... My stars! If they had found him a moment later, he would have been dead, not just unconscious." The rest of the group agreed. Michelle sipped her champagne. *So that's what happened,* she thought as her quick mind put together the pieces. *Erik knocked Piangi unconscious with his little noose and only thought he was dead. But what about Buquet?*

If you never ask, you'll never find out. "Piangi was certainly more fortunate than Joseph Buquet. He wasn't able to come out of his confrontation with O.G. alive."

One of the older ballerinas chuckled. "You haven't been here long, have you?"

Michelle paused. "Why do you ask?"

"Because Joseph Buquet wasn't killed by the Opera Ghost. He committed suicide."