A/N: This is not in any semblance of an order. I hope readers will review this chapter to tell me about the fight scene here between Christine and Erik. Just read it; it is taken out of context. Erik has been out of Paris for two years; reasoning isn't vital. Its purpose is to look at the characterization of Christine and Erik and gain feedback. For length reasons, I have split this fight into two chapters. Thanks!
Christine stopped her flight outside of her dressing room to try to calm herself, putting her hands to her face and taking deep, rhythmic breaths. She pushed the door open and stepped in, looking around the room as though it was her first time. In a way, she supposed, it was because of the way her senses were heightened, all in anticipation of him.
"Angel, sing to me," she breathed. Nothing happened, and she snaked her arms around herself in anticipation, slowly turning until she faced the mirror. "Hello?" She stood for a few moments, trying to calm her breathing. Christine was afraid he hadn't come after all, and that he was angry...
"Christine..." suddenly pierced the silence, quieter than a breath, more beautiful than a song. She closed her eyes and let his voice wash over her in sensuous waves, letting it have the effect on her that she'd been dreaming of. When she opened her eyes, Erik was standing before her in his classic uniform, wearing a crisp, white dress shirt, matching black trousers and suit jacket and black lined cape. His white porcelain mask hid the features of the left side of his face. On the part still revealed, however, were mixed expressions of fear, desperation, anger, and love. The result was a look of agony that made Christine ache to take him in her arms until he was reduced to no more than a sobbing wreck of tears and nerves; raw emotion that she could take in her arms and-
She blushed and tried to disengage herself from this train of thought before she got herself into trouble.
"Good afternoon, Erik. I see that you have returned to our humble opera house." The tone and words were light, but Christine's voice held a barley concealed hint of sarcasm that Erik's sensitively trained ears picked up right away.
"Ah, then you noticed my absence. I had hoped it would not be terribly conspicuous to you." Christine blinked at the waves of hostility she was encountering. Now that the proverbial mask had clamped over the visible part of his face, Erik and his words were nothing but cool inflexibility.
"Of course I noticed. I was wondering why you returned."
"And I wonder why you remained, Madame! Do you not have the business of a vicometess to attend to?"
"I wouldn't know anything about the business you speak of, Erik. I have remained here, at my home, for the past two years." It was Erik's turn to blink in a bemused fashion.
"Surely the Vicomte cannot have allowed this of his own accord. What did you do to convince him to let you stay?" Christine blanched at these words and wondered at Erik's accusatory tone. She recovered herself, though, and answered just as acidly,
"I didn't marry Raoul, that's how I accomplished it." Erik was silent, thankful that the mask was hiding his expression of shock and disbelief.
"I see. Did he tire of you?" Christine gasped. This conversation was taking a turn for the worse, and they both knew it.
"Not that I know of. But it's not fair to be married to someone who doesn't love you back."
"Oh, how well you have taught me that lesson, my dear!" Erik threw up his hands as he said this.
"Erik! I tried! I wanted to stay, or don't you remember that kiss? That was no meager acting on my part."
"Please, Christine; don't make me relive this. That is why I left-"
"Well, Erik, if you fled Paris to forget me, then I've spent every moment of the past two years trying to remember everything about you, because I was frightened that you weren't ever going to return, and I couldn't bear the thought of my life without you. I've spent the last two years loving the ghost of a man I knew I had no chance of ever being with again."
"The Vicomte would accept you again," Erik said, uneasily.
"I'M SPEAKING OF YOU, YOU DENSE MAN! WHAT WILL IT TAKE FOR YOU TO SEE THAT I LOVE YOU?!" At this, Christine burst into tears. Erik raised his eyebrows, having absolutely no idea how to respond to this outburst.
