A/N: SO sorry about the wait… all of my professors decided this was the week they were going to hold huge exams! A reminder that combining all different forms and histories of Erik.

Thank you reviewers! Enjoy!

Chapter 14- Auditions

He moved through the passages, up toward the main theatre for the singing auditions the next morning, still unhappy at how the conversation with Constance had gone the previous afternoon. The typical anger that ruled his life was not an issue at all when he spoke with her, even though there had been a few things she had said, like the comment about pitying him because of Christine, that had done a sufficient job of maddening him. It was the fact that he could not seem to gain an upper hand in any of their discussions.

Constance was in a league all her own.

Never had he met such a vexing woman before! No matter how hard he tried, she would not break. He had underestimated the woman's stubbornness. It seemed to get worse very time he was forced to speak with her. She had the ability to talk her way around things, and making him think things he had no intention of thinking about his life. By now, he would have placed enough fear and doubt in the minds of his managers to give him what he required!

But she did have the most foul mood if things did not go her way…

Their attitudes were too much alike for their own good, especially if they were going to butt heads every single time he came to her or sent her a note detailing exactly what he required.

He still could not believe she had talked her way around giving him the twenty thousand francs he asked for. It was true that it would raise some questions from her brother if she were to take the entire sum of money out, or even over the period of a month taking that money out. He had never had to deal with someone else entirely controlling the outflow of money- all the managers before took care of it themselves- and that was as well as the fact that the brother would not allow her to continue working in the Opera if he knew that the 'dreaded' Opera Ghost was still there. And he had to admit, with some irritation, that he did not need all that money… but it was one way he could control the activities of the Opera and managers. Except it had been nice to have that sum of money, as he had saved much beforehand which had allowed him to live well after he was forced to leave the Opera. If something like that were to happen again, he would have no saved money.

He needed the total stipend of twenty thousand francs.

So he would suffice with what he could get for now, like he had done for the past few years, until he could think of some other way to change her mind to his benefit. He was more intelligent than he after all… there had to be a way… he just had not figured it out yet.

Stepping out of the paneling into his box, he moved carefully in the shadows, looking down into the auditorium to find Constance sitting beside Reyer a few rows back from center stage. There were a few people- probably the heads of the certain departments of the Opera, and some of the soon-to-be auditioned- sitting about listening into the try-outs for the remaining spots in the orchestra that had only begun a short time ago. Henoticed the list the previous day during his movements about the theatre, when he was observing what was being done and to make sure it was satisfactory to him, and he noticed that the first order of business to audition two more pianists after the previous day's disaster of pianists. Which would then lead them to bass singers, all the way up to sopranos later in the day.

A full day to agonize over hearing Christine sing again in his Opera, with a gift he helped her realize. What a painful day it would be.

At least Carlotta would not be there.

He sat in the shadows of his box, watching as Reyer finally found a decent pianist and continued on through the bass singers. The men who were auditioning were from every walk of life he could imagine: some Italian, some French… Spaniards, Germans… there was even one man who sounded much like a Russian (though he could not be sure about that, as he had little contact with the Russians), but not one of them stood out as a great singer. It was true, bass parts were not usually the most prevalent parts in any Opera, but they were still very needed for a well balanced group. He supposed, though, that they would suffice as long as they could sing in the different languages.

There was no substituting that knowledge of being able to sing in different languages, but he often wondered if any of the foreigners even knew what they were singing. They knew general stage direction, naturally, so they could act their parts, but did they really understand the true depth to each of the operas they performed? It seemed that they lacked the passion behind their singing of the foreign words, which was a good indicator that they really did not have the strong a connection with what they were performing.

That was the reason why he, personally, had spent much of his life reading every manuscript he could on foreign languages. He decided early on that since he loved the Opera so much, and that he would reside there in the cellars, he should put forth a great effort so that he would at least be able to know what was going on in each scene of every Opera. What had started as a true thirst for knowledge for learning the languages and the notes accompanied to the words, fed his inspiration in writing his own music that had become such a passion of his that it had finally led him to his own Pandora's Box… Mademoiselle Christine Daaé.

Or should he think of her as Vicomtess Christine de Chagny now?

She would never be Christine de Chagny in his mind… he would never accept the fact that she was gone because he had weakened and let her go. She was meant to be his and his alone, and she knew that, no matter how much she appeared to love that fop. He growled to himself and tried to shake the image of her still fresh in his head from the previous day. That was not important now; she was not important now. What was important now was that he was alive, and he could again thrive off the music this Opera created, even if it would be hindered by the Chagnys' presence.

The group of awaiting baritones were then given a few minutes to warm up before their judging commenced. Some of these men were better than the last bunch, but he grew disheartened by the true lack of enthusiasm. Perhaps they would be better in performance mode, but he was worried for the Opera if this what they had to choose from for leading parts. He thought for a moment that he was being too harsh and expected too much from the singers, but he was well aware there was talent somewhere in the world, even if they were not taught by him.

A mediocre English baritone left after singing his prepared piece and doing a few bars of the sight reading piece Reyer requested from Don Giovanni, from the predetermined list passed out earlier that day, with hardly a thank you from Reyer. The pianist, however, was doing a splendid job of keeping up with the sight reading better than he imagined, but then he was an older gentleman and probably had played many of these pieces at least once before in concert. There was a lull in the auditions as apparently one of the baritones who was supposed to be there, had not shown up for his appointed time. He glanced down at Reyer and Constance, who were talking quietly about something having to do with the singers.

Constance nodded her head and stood up, "We'll commence with the next baritone audition since Monsieur Chaffee has not shown up."

Reyer handed her a piece of paper, and she called out, "Señor Gabriel de la Vega please."

Erik shifted his eyes about the auditorium, finding the Spanish baritone as he stood from his seat and flattened out his waistcoat and adjusted the cravat about his neck. If there was a better person who could play a Don Juan, Erik could not imagine it… even if he was the wrong voice part. When he first saw the baritone that day coming from Constance's office, he saw the resemblance of the character, but now as he glided effortlessly across the aisle up toward the stage, it was certain that he was very arrogant and full of himself, and probably quite the womanizer as well.

"What will you be singing for us today, Señor?" Reyer questioned.

"I sing 'Era la notte' from Othello," the baritone announced. A few of the others still sitting in on the audition after their own rolled their eyes as they heard that proclaimed, as it had been the song they chose. They must have all thought their renditions of the song were the best.

And then the baritone sang, and Erik found himself utterly surprised at what had come out of the man's mouth. He had expected this Vega man to be like a puffed up Carlotta in male form… but this Spaniard was a superb singer and a wonderful actor, even if he never fully lost the persona of the lover. Still, though, the appropriate level of Iago's deceitfulness was there and palpable. De la Vega held the final note out, cutting off his note precisely as it was required, leaving a resonating sound through the theatre, and Reyer nodded, marking a few things on his paper, "Thank you, Señor. Now for your sight reading, we will ask you to sing the piece from Cosí fan tutte."

Erik glanced at the music director and the manager, waiting for their reactions. Reyer's face was impassive, as it usually was in any good judge, so he would not show his prejudice from one singer to another. Constance, however, sat quietly, and looked supremely serene as she listened to the Italian aria sung expertly by the baritone. He really was an impressive singer, and it was obvious that Reyer would be asking Vega to join the Opera Populaire. Erik glanced back at Constance, who now sat with her eyes closed, a smile of happiness on her face as though she were remembering a moment better spent somewhere else and with someone else who cared deeply for her.

Or was she just so taken with the music she could not help but close her eyes and get lost in it?

Reyer called for the baritone to stop, and thanked him for coming to the Opera. Vega bowed his head slightly in recognition, walking off stage right. Soon following came the group of tenors who were mostly talented, and then the altos, where women started to show up to the auditions. He always found it odd how the women always seemed to naturally have more talent than the men.

Perhaps it was just a peculiarity of nature…

After the altos finished with their auditions, Constance called a recess for luncheon, and he was left alone in the quiet auditorium, staring at the empty stage and slipping into his own reverie. The music of his opera played loudly in his head, like it was only just being preformed by the orchestra, lulling him into an even deeper state of despair. He could still imagine himself slinking about the stage in his Spanish-inspired costume, masquerading as Don Juan and Piangi. He moved carefully about, stalking the most tempting prey in all the wide world (he was sure that she was the most tempting prey, at least). She knew who he was almost instantly… she knew the voice of her Angel… no matter how much he tried to disguise it. He sang to her with all the passion he could muster, trying to illustrate for her the ardent pleasures he so wished to share with the beauty Christine Daaé added to his life. For a moment, he had her entranced, and he thought that there was a chance he would yet persuade her into staying in his life.

Somehow, though, she had been able to pull out of the trance and unmask him in front of everyone, betraying him. The sounds of the shrieks and gasps from the audience echoed throughout the auditorium, and he could still see the disgust on Christine's face as she looked up at him. Emotion found him, and he felt tears well in his eyes, but willed them not to spill over.

Why did he sit here and relive that fateful night all of the time? It only made him angry, jealous and miserable all in fell swoop.

He sighed and stood from his seat, planning to leave for a bit and collect himself, but as he turned to the side to go to his panel, he saw the shadow standing in the back of the box. She sighed and walked forward, stepping into the solitary stream of light shining in from the open curtain box entrance. "Madame."

She gave him a sad smile, one of the ones that were so full of pity it was almost too painful to know it was your horrible being that had caused it. "Erik."

"Welcome back to the Opera Populaire," he said, looking closely at her. It appeared that nothing had changed about her in the past few years, her face still exceptionally youthful despite the experience and wisdom present in her clear blue eyes.

"Should I say the same to you?" she questioned quietly, meeting his eyes and holding his gaze as though she were trying to read into his soul to see if he had changed at all. She sighed, "Erik, it is truly good to see that you are well. Not a day has gone by that I have not thought about you and wondered what had happened to you."

He turned from her and looked back out upon the theatre and let a breath out of his body, "And yet you did not come back in all that time to see that I was well?"

"What would you have had me do?" she questioned. "I left you what I could… and I did not know where you had gone. I worried for you, Erik, but I could not come back to the Opera to search for you. I needed to find employment elsewhere so that I could survive… so that both Meg and I could survive."

He remained silent for a few moments, looking at her, "You were not disgusted with what I did? I think that is why you did not come back."

She pressed her lips into a firm line, and said, "I was dismayed by what you did, Erik, but I cannot hold that in my heart. You did the right thing by letting Christine and Raoul go. We all have our less than reputable moments."

"I let her go because I was weak," he said bitterly.

Giry sighed and closed her eyes for a few moments before opening them to look at him, "Erik, you do not plan on hurting Christine or Raoul, do you?"

Erik bit his tongue, and grumbled, "I cannot do anything to them… or I will not receive my salary."

He watched as her eyes widened in surprise, "How did that happen? You never strike a deal with anyone. It is all or nothing with you."

"I do not know how it happened! One moment I was in control of the conversation, and the next the damned manager was telling me what I was going to do," he explained angrily. "I had no choice but to agree to the condition she set forth… I need funds terribly."

"Even if you needed money, you are too stubborn to give in," she said. "The new manager must have done something else…"

"Besides the fact that all she has to do is say a word and I could be found and killed?" he questioned. "Do you not know how they are connected with the Chagnys?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "I imagine they know each other because of their societal ties. I only know what Christine has said to me in passing about the Duc's and the Comte's close working relationship."

He shook his head, "The Comte's sister is the Duc's wife. If that was not enough, the Comte has his eye on the woman manager! She was barely able to talk the Comte de Chagny out of calling a search for me again when he found the note I had written her."

Giry smiled knowingly after a bit and nodded her head, "You agreed to the conditions of your money because she worked so hard to talk him out of coming after you. I never thought it was possible, but you actually developed an understanding of the concept of one good deed for another."

"I never had to worry about it before…" he said flatly. "Why must I now?"

"Because people feared you, either because of the way you haunted the Opera, or if they saw your face…" she replied. "This manager does not fear you. That is what the difference is… she knows the full depth of your offenses from Christine and from the Chagnys. She came prepared for your presence, even though they told her you were gone."

Could that have been why Constance could so easily talk him into things he had no intention of being talked into? Because she was prepared?

Giry continued, "I think her being here is a good thing for you, she will keep you under control."

"My control was not a problem," he said, glaring at her.

"No, but the instant strange things start to happen again, she is prepared to have you taken care of," Giry warned. "She told me to warn her if I knew of any scheming on your part. I fully intend to do that Erik, mark my words. Even though I consider you a friend, I will not hesitate to tell her. Just because you are 'different' from everyone else doesn't mean you can have special privileges to create havoc and not adhere to the proper ethics of everyone else… I do not care how much you loved Christine. There is no excuse for killing people, or dropping chandeliers on people's heads."

Erik felt the anger in her words of warning, and he, in turn, grew angrier himself (if that was possible), even though he knew what she was saying was true. Painfully true. He always enjoyed his freedom in his Opera, but he realized now that even that freedom had limits when there were others involved. Perhaps he had changed in the past few years without realizing it… but sometimes people just made so unbelievably furious he could not hold it in. He had to do something about those people to get them to comply. Those last moments he spent with Christine in his lair had done something... it had made it undeniably clear that he could not control anything, even through death and chaos. Love shared between two people was one of those things he could not control; others' minds he could not control. Everyone had their own free will. He was just another man like every other man, even if he was more intelligent and had a disfigured face.

But if that were true, then why did Constance do such a sufficient job of controlling his free will? Was it only because he now depended upon her for money? Actually, that did make sense… the moments he had Christine fully believing in his glory came when she was dependent upon him to learn music and how to sing properly, when she had been dependent on his gift. When the Vicomte came along, she no longer needed him to depend on… she depended upon the Vicomte's sickening sweet professions of love to live.

So it was dependence that ruled the free will of others.

"I must go now, the young ballerinas moving into the dormitories are to arrive soon," she said. "Just please, heed my warning."

"I will," he sighed reluctantly.

Giry nodded her head, "Do you need me to do anything for you?"

"When I receive the money…" he began.

"Leave it and your list where you used to. I will see to it that you get what you need," she replied and started out of the box.