A/N: I'm getting pissed off with ffnet not displaying my formatting and line breaks etc – so I'm trying a new means of breaking up paragraphs between time lapses. Bear with the random 8s okay?

Also apologies for the time taken to update, I've been busy yet again, and I also try to take time and care over the chapters to ensure they come out as I want. This chapter is 10 pages long on word… so that's something to be thankful for right? … right? ;)

Without further ado…

Chapter 14:

COAL TO DIAMONDS

'His white knuckled fist wrapped around a wrought iron candelabra from the table

behind him. And then he threw it. With deadly accuracy. At her.'

The furious flight of the candelabra was flawless. His aim absolutely perfect. And it was that perfection that saved her. For in fact, despite appearances, he had not aimed the candelabra for her, but rather at the wall just beside her. The candelabra crashed directly into the shelf beside her, shattering a porcelain platter that had been on display. The sheer force of the crash sent shards of porcelain flying, and Monique cried out as something stung her face, instinctively she ducked the ground, holding one cheek in her hand, cowering. The fragments of porcelain rained down to the stone floor, the last sound in the bizarre symphony of violence before a heavy silence descended.

Erik stared across the room at the forlorn creature cowering against the wall, she was eerily still for some time, then finally unfurled from the protective ball she had bundled herself into. Monique pulled her hand from her stinging cheek, and let out a gasp as she observed her bloodied fingers. A cold fog gathered in the pit of Eriks stomach as bloodied hand pulled away to reveal her face, a small rivulet of blood took a winding path down her cheek, like a large solitary crimson tear, staining her pale skin. The blood snapped him out of his guilt-inspired paralysis and he whirled on his heel and stalked away, the only thing he could think to do. As soon as he had done it, he realised it was the wrong thing to do. But how could he go back now? He took two more steps then forced himself to betray his sense of pride and turn back. He couldn't leave her like that.

Monique didn't move, barely even reacted when Erik took off. It was a reaction she had grown accustomed to, and had even predicted. But what she hadn't counted on, was him returning. After disappearing for a moment, he was there once more, walking towards her, his eyes on her face, but not meeting her own eyes. Monique held her breath as he got closer, then flinched visibly, squeezing her eyes shut as he crouched down beside her. When nothing happened she slowly opened her eyes, and found herself staring straight at him, those eyes that looked out from a face, half given, half mystery. He moved subtly and produced a crisp white handkerchief which he held out to her, his eyes showing a hint of remorse. Monique merely looked at him, almost transfixed, but refused to accept the handkerchief from him. Eriks chest rose and then fell with a sigh that escaped his lips, "Would it do anything to help, if I said I was sorry?" he asked softly, then leant closer, brushing the soft white handkerchief across her bloodied cheek, he wiped away the shard of porcelain that had torn her cheek then blotted the blood with a fold of the material. It's pristine whiteness was becoming overtaken by the bright crimson stain of her blood. "Oh, do you mean to ask, 'will my empty words placate you'? The answer to that is, no. Why bother saying something when you don't mean it, Erik?" she said his name as if it were an insult.

"And what then, if my words are true?" He enquired, not rising to her bait, still he held the handkerchief to her cheek.

Monique gazed up into his eyes, her resolve faltering, something reminiscent of sincerity showed in the milky-sapphire irises. She reached up and smoothed her hand over his, taking the handkerchief from him, and he let his hand fall away.

She didn't bother to answer his previous question, there didn't seem to be a need. Silently the discord had been resolved, in the only way they really knew how – by side-stepping it altogether.

Monique moistened the handkerchief and dabbed at her face, clearing away the semi-dry blood on her cheeks. The wound no longer bled, and she appeared no worse for wear. "Come… return with me." Erik offered his hand down to her to help her up.
"You go…" she gave a small smile, "I'll be there shortly."

Eriks hand dropped slowly, like a balloon leaking air, "You are now disillusioned? You have seen… the monster that I claimed to be." His voice was soft, there was no ulterior motive behind his words.

Monique shook her head, "I'm neither disillusioned by you, nor convinced you're a monster. I just want a few moments to compose myself. Besides, Kari will be wondering where you are, you should check on her. We can't be trusted for very long on our own…" she gave a crooked smile at that.
He offered her his hand again, and this time Monique took it, letting him help her to her feet.
"Very well." He murmured, holding her eyes as he held her hand. They lingered in that position for longer then necessary, then Erik excused himself, moving away silent and graceful as ever.

Monique let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding and leant up against the wall, her eyes venturing upwards. What she wouldn't give for some clarity! Her thoughts came and went in a lightening storm of confusion. She wasn't scared of Erik. She was scared of how he made her feel… scared to let herself feel too much or to give in – for what if it was all make believe? Could emotions really be trusted? Should she let Erik affect her so? After all he was a figure from a book – and she had no right being here with him? The internal storm persisted, and she didn't have the strength to discern it's every element, so surrendered and ignored the questions, giving into living in the moment once more.

She straightened herself up a bit, in preparation to return to Kari and Erik, wondering if Kari would know that another 'event' had transpired between them. She decided to not tell her, if she asked she would dart around the subject, unless Kari knew what she was asking about. She decided to return, but first she had one last little task. She scurried over to the container of the scrolls and examined a couple before pulling out one that she had briefly noticed, but hadn't examined properly before.

Monique rolled the scroll out, admiring the images with a smile. Costumes. Dresses, day, outdoor and formal. A loose paper fluttered out from the scroll and she bent to pick it up, on the smaller scrap of paper was another costume design. But this one was much more striking then the others, it was drawn on a lithe female body, with the outline of a head, with a swirling mass of hair in an elaborate updo – but there were no facial features. The model had no identity. Monique smiled to herself, closing her eyes – and gave the model a face. Yes… perfect, she opened her eyes, smiling even wider now she folded the paper in quarters then tucked it into her bra. After she restored the room to it's usual order, (save for the smashed porcelain on the floor, which she thought should be left for Erik) she hurried through the stone 'mansion' back to music room.

-8-

NEXT MORNING:

"What is that?" Kari peered closely at Monique, who was sitting in her usual place on the kitchen bench, eating some bizarre sloppy concoction of hers for breakfast.

Monique frowned, "Breakfast." She replied.
"No… on your cheek?" she pointed.
Monique ran her finger across her cheek, the wound from Eriks rage. She had forgotten about it.
"Oh… I tripped up the steps into the library and kinda cut my face on a piece of stone sticking out. It kind bled for a while, but it's okay." Monique shrugged it off indifferently.

Kari looked at her curiously a moment, then she too shrugged it off.
"Anyway, you want to come with me to L'ouvrière couturier? Laine said I could find a costume from there, or get fitted from a dress if I preferred. I think I'll just get one made for me… then I can make it perfect." She smiled slyly.

Monique nodded, "Sure," she replied and a sly smile spread across her lips also, but for different reasons.

-8-

Kari was busy with the seamstress in one of the curtained off areas of the store while Monique roamed around the costumes and ball gowns on display, eyeing each dress quickly, rendering it unsuitable and continuing on to the next.

"Êtes-vous ici avec Mlle Kari?" A voice interrupted her perusal from behind.
Monique spun quickly, "Oui." She replied with a nod.
"Je dois vous mesurer pour votre robe, viens avec moi" She pulled a tape measure from the apron tied around her waist.

Monique frowned, 'Did she just say that she needed to measure me for my dress? Does she think I'm part of the Opera group who needs a dress made?' she wondered.

But her French was rudimentary, perhaps she had misunderstood – but then again, she was leading her towards another curtained off area, un-twining her measuring tape. "Nous devons être rapides, j'avons seulement une semaine pour faire votre robe pour le Gala" She twittered in her rapid French.

Moniques eyes widened, she DID think that Monique was to be made a dress. "Oh no.. I.." she started, then suddenly she thought of the paper in her pocket, the paper that was practically burning a hole in her clothes, and she rapidly changed her mind. The women stopped, "Oui?"
"Oh, sorry, I just.. I don't speak good French, Do you speak English?"
The women, "Yes," she replied almost curtly, looking far too busy to be dealing with Monique.
"I… I have this design here that the dress it to look like, if possible." She replied and pulled the paper from her pocket and handed it to the woman.
She unfolded the paper, her eyes widening appreciatively as she took in the design. Eriks design. Eriks design that Monique had stolen yesterday. "Very nice, I'm sure it can be arranged. But come quickly Mlle, we haven't the time to waste if I am to produce the beautiful gown for you."

-8-

"She said my dress would be ready Friday for pickup, the day before the Gala, but I've got my last rehearsal that day." Kari explained as she and Monique walked through the theatre on their way to meet Erik.
"I'll get it for you." Monique said quickly, almost too quickly, but Kari didn't seem to notice.

"You will? Cool, thanks that takes a load off my plate." She wrapped an arm around Moniques shoulders.
Monique only smiled, of course she was glad to – she had to find a way to get her made to order dress home without Kari questioning her how she'd got it done. She'd just have to lie and say it was in the shop and she bought it when she went to pick it up.

-8-

When they met with Erik he seemed to be in somewhat of a foul mood.

"What's wrong Erik?" Kari finally asked him after they had completed another lengthy vocal lesson.
He turned toward her slowly, "I have noticed something of mine is missing." He answered.

Monique froze. Every muscle fibre in her body taut with anxiety.
"What's missing?" Kari enquired, placing the score back into her folder.
Erik stood up from the piano "A precious jewel, that I had… acquired during my time at the Opera House… I have noticed it missing, among a few other possessions." His voice was dark.
Monique practically melted with relief, letting out the breath she had been holding.
"Well.. I can assure you, it wasn't us that took anything." Kari spoke.
Monique nodded, okay… so she had taken something, but it was only a bit of paper – and she would return it when she got a chance.
"I know it was not you – I believe it must have happened when those marauders entered my lair uninvited." His eyes flashed darkly with painful memories.

"I'm sorry," Monique apologised as if it could change the circumstances.

"There is no need for you to apologise when there is nothing you have done wrong." He replied.
'Well… I wouldn't say there was nothing I've done wrong' Monique thought, but kept silent.
"We have to go Moni, Laine wants me to do a sing through for her, to check I'm on track." She gestured at her watch, then turned to Erik, "Thanks Erik, I'll practice the end tomorrow and I'll see you again on Tuesday." She stepped forward and gave him a hug, he didn't exactly hug her in return, but placed one hand across her back for a moment before she released him.

She gave him a small smile then turned, heading down toward the boat. Monique looked at Erik a moment then turned and followed Kari.

"Wasn't there something you wanted to ask me?" his silky voice stopped her in her tracks.

She turned slowly on the spot and finally looked up at him, not sure exactly what he was getting at. Did he know about her stealing that costume design? Or did he know that she wanted to ask him to come to the Bal Masque after the Gala?

When she didn't respond he took a step forward, regarding her seriously, the left hand side of his mouth curled up into a small, crooked smile. Perhaps he enjoyed the look of surprise on her face.
"You wanted a lesson, no?" he elaborated.

Moniques shoulders dropped slightly in relief, "Yeah… I mean, if you had time. I know your concentrating on Kari at the moment, and the Gala is less then a week away, but if you could spare the time." Monique rambled.
"It would be a pleasure to tutor you. But you must know, that I do not tolerate insolence or complacency when it comes to music. I give fair instruction, but I demand the highest level of compliance. If you fight against my technique, then I can not and will not train you."

Monique nodded, she was somewhat taken aback. He was, indeed, very serious about music. To her it felt like she was being hired for some important position, not merely being allowed to sing for him. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to be his student. How would that affect the other things she thought about him? Or rather, how would he other thoughts affect her being tutored by him.
"I wont muck around." She finally said, deciding that receiving help from him was an opportunity to good to pass up.

Erik nodded, quite accepting.

Monique removed her bag form her back and pulled out the folder she'd been carrying around for a few days. "This is the libretto." She held it out towards him, "It's called Moulin Rouge, I'm playing Satine."

Erik took the folder from her, casting an eye over the first page.
"The Moulin Rouge is a… a.. well, I'm a, uhh Satine is, she's a Courtesan. A…" Monique stuttered trying to find the right words.
"I'm quite aware what the Moulin Rouge is. That debaucherous theatre has been around for some time. I've heard a many a licentious story on my travels through the theatre. The things people will say to each other in confidence when they believe no one else to be around." He smirked, it almost seemed he would let out a satirical laugh, but he simply shook his head.

Monique wondered if perhaps he were taking a stab at her for being in a production based around such a theatre of debauchery as he had stated, "Deabaucherous? Licentious? Hmm… isn't that how a certain persons opera Don Juan Triumphant was described?" she raised an eyebrow, eyeing him challengingly.

At this a small laugh escaped Eriks mouth, "You are very quick to defend mademoiselle. It is without reason, for I am only teasing with you." His handsome features moved into what would've been a smile had his mouth fully participated, but he was too reserved for smiles just yet. His eye sparkled though and Monique knew his humanity was alive and well – it just had to brought to the surface. He was a lump of coal, so to speak, as of that moment, but with the right conditions, and with enough persistence she would make him a diamond.

-8-8-

Erik had enjoyed the libretto of Moulin Rouge, more so then he even let on to Monique. The story had him fascinated, the bohemians in their pursuit of truth, beauty, freedom and most importantly, love. He found himself simultaneously identifying with certain characters, and or characters emotions, and some lines seemed to stick in his head, 'The greatest thing you'll ever learn, is just to love and be loved in return'. It rung as truth in his mind and heart. It disturbed him that Satine had to die in the end. It hardly seemed fair. But then, as he had learned, love was not fair, it didn't play a game of rules – it simply was a law unto itself. If he admitted it to himself, he was anxious to see it performed live, and subconsciously was already thinking of ways to get to see it, none of which seemed plausible as yet, but they were there, ticking away in the recesses of his mind.

Erik and Kari had been busy rehearsing Con te Partiro, picking the song to pieces, and building it back up again, so much so, that by Thursday Monique still had no received any vocal tuition from Erik. Nor had he returned her libretto. She'd had enough of wondering, and finally, when Erik and Kari broke from singing she approached him.

"May I have my libretto back?" she enquired without darting around the subject.
"Of course. But I had thought you were intending on some lessons." He raised an eyebrow at her.
Monique faltered, "Well… I had been, but you've said nothing… so I sorta assumed that was over now."

Erik tilted his head quizzically, "You, mademoiselle, have said nothing. I thought you would have come to ask by now, but you have been rather silent these past few days."

Monique sighed, "Well, you … you didn't say anything! I was waiting for you!"

Erik smiled then, almost smugly, "I was waiting for you."

Monique rolled her eyes, "Fine, whatever. So, now I've asked for the libretto back, can I have it?" she held out a hand.
"First… you sing." He announced, pulling the libretto out from the shelf, he headed back towards his piano.
Monique followed along behind mutely, trying to think of all the pointers he had given Kari over the past few days, so she wouldn't make the same mistakes.

-8-8-

Erik seated himself at the piano, and gestured for Monique to stand on his left, beside the piano. Monique followed his direction, watching him closely.
"Take a moment and breathe." His voice seemed quieter now, almost a warm whisper.

She did a few diaphragmatic breathing exercises, and then he began to play a scale.
"Close your eyes," his sensual whispering voice implored her, and she obeyed instantly.

She did several simple scales up and down, then missed note scales up and down, then did some octave jumping, "Now, open your eyes." She did as he asked, and found him gazing at her. "Scales, once more. Remember, really lift the soft palate on the high notes, and sing through your eyes."

'sing through my eyes?' she mused, it seemed a strange thing to say, but she knew what he was getting at. She aimed the sound at her eyes, and actually found it helpful.

"You seem nervous." Erik murmured, close to Moniques ear – he was eyeing her singing posture critically.

Monique turned her head to look at him, "That's because-" he reached up with one hand and turned her head back to the front, then held her chin, elongating her neck some more. "I am." She finished.

"Why?" he seemed to purr. Perhaps a loaded question.

Monique considered her answer for a moment, then without coming up with a constructive way of putting it, she simple replied "Because it's you." Indeed, a loaded answer.
He gave a small laugh of surprise, a sound that was low and throaty, alluring and seductive without meaning to be. Monique felt herself leaning backwards unconsciously towards him, he pressed his hands against her shoulders, pushing her weight forwards onto the balls of her feet once more.
"If you sing with your heart, there is no need to be nervous when you sing to me." He replied.

Erik flicked through the score, heading for the song that had captured him the most. "I thought we might work on…" he began as he pulled pages apart.
'ooh come what may, come what may.. please please!' Monique begged inside her head.
"Come What May." He arranged the score on the piano and seated himself once more.
He began to play, "Sing." He ordered in that silky, sensual, near-whispery tone that just made you want to do anything he asked.

"But this is the guy part?" Monique questioned.
"Sing the whole song. It is good for you, and for me also." He replied.
So Monique did as requested, singing Christians parts, but in her octave, then singing Satines parts in the rest of the song.

-8-8-

"Sing the end again, and don't lift your chin." Erik placed a thumb on the cleft of Moniques chin adjusting it downwards.

"I didn't! I.." Monique began to protest.

"You did. Don't argue, just don't do it. You don't need to sing with your chin, use your eyes."

Monique grit her teeth, then sang the final climactic notes of the song, trying to project right up into her eyes, while using her gaze to keep her head level.

"Better…" he murmured.

Monique sensed there was a 'but' on the end of that, but he never said it.

Erik played the starting note, first in one octave, and then in one higher. To her surprise, and intense delight, he began to sing. Without the piano. Just the smooth, warm rich sensuous tones of his perfect tenor voice.

'Never thought I could feel like this
like I've never seen the sky before.
Want to vanish inside your kiss
Each day I love you more and more.'

Monique closed her eyes, savouring the melodic haunting sound of his voice filling her ears, and reaching inside her in hypnotising waves.


'Listen to my heart can you hear it sing
Telling me to give you everything

Seasons may change, Winter to Spring
But I love you until the end of time'

Erik was now standing behind her, his voice washing over her. His voice seemed to be right up against her ear, as if his mouth were lingering against her ear lobe. She couldn't see, and she couldn't turn to see so she had no way of knowing how close he really way, but her head rolling back as she delighted in his warm masculine scent. She found herself wishing her would touch her, take her in his arms, and hold her, if even just for a few moments. Even as he sung the words that were merely lyrics as written, her mind was playing make believe, telling her that he meant the words. That he sung the words for her.

Come what may, Come what May
I will Love you until my dying day

Monique took a deep filling breath, preparing to join him in song. She tensed slightly as he corrected her head alignment for correct posture. "Relaxxx…" his silken voice urged, the word seemed to live forever in her ears. His touch flooded her with feelings she could not recall ever feeling before – and then she opened her mouth and let the song pour out, as if the words were spontaneous and truthful.

Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place
suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace

Even as she sung them, she found herself starting to believe the words. Despite fully knowing they were only singing what was written.


Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste


It's all revolves around you

And then his voice joined hers, uniting it song. And he moved closer to her, his voice growing louder in her ears, pushing her to project higher to match him.


And there's no mountain too high
No river too wide
Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side
storm clouds may gather and stars may collide
But I love you until the end of time

And then he was right behind her, leaning closer, the left side of his face, nearly pressed against the right side of hers. The song had built to the climax, the emotions had built and were threatening to boil over, it was all Monique could do to prevent herself from whirling around to face him. She forced herself to focus, letting her lungs fill with air.


Come what may, Come what may,

And then his hands were on her. Around her waist, from behind, holding the sides of her waist then sliding a slow path to rest against her flat abdomen. They took a breath together, and united once more, putting everything into the final proclamation of the song, his hands pressed firmly into her abdomen.

I will love you until my dying day

She held the final note with his voice, somehow sensing when he would finish, and they ended together. Monique felt almost breathless, heat burning in her cheeks, she felt good. Never had she sung the song like that in her own practice.

She closed her eyes, savouring the sweet feelings of endorphins racing through her blood, the feeling of having put all of herself into those final notes, with a small smile on her face, she completed the song as written, quietly, almost murmuring…


Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place.

Erik let her go and she turned to face him, awaiting his opinion. "Well sung… but please, do not lift your chin… it distorts the picture." He used one hand to brush the backs of his fingers across her chin. Monique leaned into the touch, gazing at Erik amorously. He held her eyes a moment as though studying them, then let both his hand and his eyes fall from her. "It is late. We must finish." He murmured and started away from her. Monique stood frozen to the spot, what had been that look in his eyes? And if had been as she thought then why was he leaving? Why was he suddenly indifferent? She felt almost betrayed.

When she didn't follow Erik paused and turned to face her. Confusion frosted her pale eyes, and she gave him a look that'd flood the common man with guilt. But then she followed him, wordlessly.

-8-8-

When it came time to say goodbye at the other side of the lake that evening the exchange between Kari and Erik was as per usual, but Monique couldn't bring herself to pretend to be unaffected by the happenings that day; so she gave him the cold shoulder. Not even bothering to say goodbye, she simply strode off into the darkness, not even looking back to see whether Kari was close behind her.

Erik watched her shadowy form retreating from his lair, he had given her a lesson and now she had grown icy towards him. What sort of thanks was that? Another woman… who took as much as she liked, then thought herself above giving back.

Perhaps it was a game to her, to be down here, in the Phantoms lair. Erik brooded over those thoughts as he punted back across the lake to his home, he looked around his now vacant home. Despite there be plenty of room he suddenly felt suffocated. With a snarl of frustration he sent a huge standing candelabra to the ground, the crash reverberated unforgivingly "Well… my dear," He growled threateningly, a venomous glint in his eyes as he glared out across the lake, "if it be a game, you must learn the rules."

-8-8-

to be continued…

Please review and let me know what you think… reviews are easy to do… and the more I know what you think the more I can tailor this story for the audience. Yes? Yes.

Also, I don't own Moulin Rouge or any songs, plots, characters relating to it, so the kudos for 'Come what may' goes to the person who wrote it and to Baz for putting it in Moulin Rouge.