A/N: Thank you so much for all the wonderful comments and encouragement that you all have been sending my way. I apologize for not getting this done sooner, but unfortunately I was busy this weekend and I had a few days where my muse was not being especially cooperative. Once again, a great big hug to my back up beta andersm. Enjoy and don't forget to review!
Due to the modest size of Gia's bed, she and Erik had the not unpleasant task of holding each other close throughout the night so neither would end up on the floor during the night. They woke in the morning, their bodies entangled to the point where it was difficult to see where one began and the other ended. One white sheet was curled around their waists, but both seemed unconcerned with modesty. Still basking in the afterglow of the knowledge that love was reciprocated, neither was anxious to let reality intrude. But the morning light signaled it was time to rise and meet the day, and as Gia began to try to extricate herself from Erik, he pulled her close to prevent her from escaping.
"It is still early. You don't have to get up just yet. Stay with me for awhile," he purred sleepily.
Although she really should get up, Gia far preferred his warm body to the cold air swirling around the room, so she snuggled into his chest, enjoying the feel of the hair there against her skin. She ran her fingers though it, and emitted a low hum of contentment.
"If you keep doing that, I am going to keep you in this bed all day, and I won't feel the least bit guilty about it," he said, suddenly awake from the light but arousing touch of her hands.
"You would not do that. I cannot miss rehearsal," she replied.
In response he quickly turned her onto her back, pinned her arms at the wrists against the bed, and rotated his pelvis against hers. "Can you be so sure I won't take you now?"
Gia closed her eyes, and already she could feel her desire for him growing. The temptation was great to move against him to indicate her willingness to enjoy his loving this morning. Using the strength in her legs, she scrambled out from beneath him and leaned up against the headboard. From there she got her first real look at what they had done to her room in their initial rush last night. It was a complete shambles.
"Oh my goodness Erik, look at what we did!" she cried, and he looked around to take in the scene. Clothes, both his and hers lay in the last position where they had been thrown or pushed aside. Books lay scattered across the floor. He could not even see his mask. It was most likely under a heap of clothing somewhere. Gia was already getting out the bed, and rooting through her things. She came upon the red robe, and slipped it on before she resumed searching for the items she would need for rehearsal.
With the bed to himself, Erik sat up, bending his knees slightly as he watched her try to put the room to rights as quickly as possible. He was not surprised to see her put the books back on the shelf before she put anything into the wardrobe. The volumes safely returned, she went through each article of clothing meticulously, and placing each item at the end of the bed into different piles. Each time she leaned forward, he got a tantalizing glimpse of her breasts, soft and pale against the red silk of the robe. And beneath them lay a heart that beat for him.
Once she put away everything except her dance clothes, she turned to the remaining items on the floor, all of which belonged to him. Her first thought was to do as she done with her clothes, but instead she teased him, "Erik, do you treat me like a wife already? Letting me pick up the things you leave haphazardly about instead of seeing to them yourself?"
But spying his mask, she bent down and grabbed it and handed it to him, knowing he was uncomfortable without it. He took it from her, but he did not put it on right away, instead he put it on her bedside table. Erik gracefully slid out of the bed and stretched, giving Gia time to openly leer at his body. He quite possibly had the best pair of legs she had ever seen on a man. Long and powerful and not muscle bound in the least, they were a beautiful sight. Suddenly the image of him in a skirt popped into her head, and she giggled. He must have heard her, because he shot her a quizzical look, which she returned a look that said, "Who me?" At this he chuckled, and Gia tossed his trousers at him. With these in hand, he picked up his remaining clothing items and went behind her screen to change and give her privacy.
As he dressed he could hear her singing quietly to herself as she arranged her hair and tugged on her stockings. When he emerged from behind the barrier, she was completely dressed, and was making her bed. It was so domestic, and Gia would have looked the very picture of a proper French housewife had she not been wearing a tulle ballet skirt. He smoothed the lapels of his tailcoat as best he could, and he felt Christine's letter in the inner pocket. As much as he hated to bring her up to Gia, he felt he should ask her how she planned to respond to the note.
"Gia, are you going to write back to Christine?" he inquired.
She ceased smoothing the creases in the sheets, and stood up straight to look at him directly. She replied honestly to him, "I do not know what I would say to her if I did. I am uncomfortable with being less than truthful but I am not comfortable in proclaiming to her that I am your lover. If it made her angry, she could inform her husband, and it would put you at risk. Aside from that, it is not her business. I suppose I could simply tell her I am your new contact in the opera house because I know this place better than Madame Giry." She finished with a shrug, and he could tell Gia no more wanted to write to Christine than she wanted to make an announcement to the opera company that she had taken a lover.
"If you do not want to write to her, I will not force you to do so," was all he said, and he would have been content to leave the conversation at that, but Gia asked him, "Erik do you still love Christine?"
She was looking at him plaintively, hoping that he would answer with an emphatic no. "I still care for her," was his answer to her.
"If she comes to Paris are you going to leave me for her?"
To reassure her, her took her hands in his and gripped them tight as he said, "I do not see her in the same way I did two years ago. Then I would have done anything to make her mine. I nearly did in fact. I was obsessed with her. I believed it was the only way I would ever find love. I thought love was something that could be compelled, and at the last moment I realized it could not be, and it destroyed me for a time. My feelings are not the same, but I want to see her again, if only to say goodbye to her. Can you understand that?"
In truth Gia could not fully understand Erik's feelings for Christine, but she did know they had a long history between them. She would not let her jealousy of Christine tear them apart. "Erik, if Christine does agree to meet with you when she comes to Paris, I would like to be there," she stated.
"Do you not trust me with her?" he asked, surprised she would make such a request.
"It's not that I don't trust you at all. I was just thinking that she might be more likely to believe that you are no longer interested in her if I am there."
He smirked and arched his left eyebrow at this remark and said, "And you aren't the slightest bit interested in lording it over her that you have captured my heart?"
Erik was as perceptive as ever. "That too," Gia admitted. She wanted to show Christine that they were in love and that Erik had no need to steal a woman in order find happiness. She was his willingly, and would be as long as he would have her. Her great fear was that seeing Christine again would only serve to bring back unpleasant memories and upset him, but if he was certain it would allow him to slam the door shut on his troubled past, she would be as supportive as possible.
"Will you write her, or should I?" she asked him. She was curious to know how he planned to coax her into agreeing to meet with him. As long as Erik did not threaten Christine, her husband, or her child, she would be willing to assist him.
Erik considered for a moment what the best course of action would be. "I cannot be certain she is going to come to Paris at all, Gia. She may prefer to stay in the country with her family even if it means missing such an important performance for Meg. Once we know for certain she is coming, I will write to her again." It was still awkward discussing Christine with someone, but he supposed that would diminish with time, and eventually it would bother neither of them. He knew he would never forget Christine, nor did he want to. She was an integral part of his life, and someone he could not simply push aside because it would be easier to pretend she had never existed. He fervently wished that Gia could accept that, and forgive him for it. He was not even sure he had forgiven himself for what he had done.
Realizing that it would be time for Gia to be heading for practice, he gave her a quick kiss, and headed for the wardrobe promising that he would meet her in her room this evening. As he opened the door to the wardrobe, he felt her hand on his shoulder, and he turned to face her.
"You forgot this," she said with a smile. Clutched between Gia's fingers lay his white half-mask that he had left on her bedside table. For the first time that he could remember, he had forgotten to put it on. Before he put it on they kissed once more, this time wrapping their arms around each others waists, as their mouths bid each other goodbye without actually saying the words.
Once the mask was on, Erik felt different. He actually felt uncomfortable wearing it in front of her. That thought occupied his mind for most of the trip down through the cellars to his home.
It proved to be another busy day at the Metropolitan, and now that Gia was becoming used to the routine, the morning rehearsal went by rather quickly. In five days time she had gone from making a fool of herself to performing as well as the other members of the corps de ballet. Her biggest problem was nerves. She found it impossible to relax, especially when she could hear Adrienne Leveau making snide comments under her breath about how stupid it looked for someone of Gia's height and size to be playing a ghost.
"For Christ's sake, if she was any bigger, no one would notice the rest of us!" she had whispered to a group of dancers who had all tittered at the remark. When Madame Giry overheard the disturbance in the corner she had shot them all a menacing look, then informed them to stay after rehearsal. Meg insisted on taking her out for lunch while her mother dealt with Adrienne and her friends, and she prattled on about Georges and how sweet he was to her.
"You know Gia, I thought perhaps he liked you because one day in rehearsal he was staring at you, but he told me it was because of you he got up the courage to speak to Maman. He said you were most supportive of him courting me. What can you tell me about him?" she asked eagerly.
"Meg, I think it is best if Georges tell you about himself since the only things I know about him come from rumors I have heard around the opera house. However, from my observations since he has been here, I can say he has always been a hard worker and kind to his colleagues. As far as I know, he's never been seriously romantically involved with anyone, and you know how difficult it is to keep information like that under wraps in this place. Let me say this to you Meg, listen your heart. It will not steer you wrong," she concluded and then took a long sip of tea. It was odd giving relationship advice to Meg considering she had so little experience with them.
The young ballerina was smitten by her suitor but she seemed to be under the impression that something must be wrong because she was not in love with him yet. Gia counseled her that she might never fall in love with Georges even though he was a perfectly agreeable gentleman. Love takes time, and is rarely instantaneous.
"But you love Erik!" Meg had pointed out rather loudly, and several heads turned to look at their table. Gia was embarrassed but relieved that as far as she could tell none of them worked at the Metropolitan. Once they returned to focusing on their luncheons, Gia explained that she did not fall in love with Erik right away. Initially he had annoyed her and they fought a great deal. She had despised his arrogant, masterful nature, and only wished that he would eventually leave her alone. Even she was not sure precisely when she fell in love with him, but at some point the thought of being without him became painful. Gia even confided in Meg that despite his assurances, she believed he would throw her over for Christine if he had the opportunity to do so.
"That reminds me! Yesterday we received a letter from her and another from Raoul. They will be here for the opening gala of Giselle. She mentioned that she was planning to write to you to invite you to supper with us afterward. Have you heard from her?"
"I did get a note from her, but it was a warning for me to be careful of Erik. It seems she deduced that he might be behind the casting of the ballet and was concerned for my safety. She did not extend to me a dinner invitation. I suppose that is for the best. It would be tremendously awkward for me, even more so than before. I know she is your friend Meg, and she seems a sweet girl, but I cannot help disliking her," she said as finished her tea.
"You're jealous of her!" Meg exclaimed, and Gia did not bother to contradict her. As Meg settled up the bill, she shared, "I used to be so jealous of her as well. Here she was, an orphan, a nobody, and then all of a sudden she is singing the lead in Hannibal, and the rich new patron is panting after her. He falls in love with her, they have this secret engagement, and then the Phantom shows up at the masked ball having created an opera for her. Nothing like that ever happens to me!" she pouted.
Gia did her best to assure Meg that it was probably not as romantic as all that. Christine would tell her so if she was here. As they walked back arm in arm past St.Etienne's, Gia recalled that she had not attended Mass recently, nor had she made her confession. She had been committing the mortal sin of fornication on a regular basis, and to cleanse her mortal soul she would have to reveal it to Father Lessard. But Gia could not feel guilty about what she had done with Erik. It would be a far greater sin to seek absolution for something that her heart told her was not a sin. It might have been to begin with, but no longer. Still, she had been neglecting a religious obligation. She promised herself that on Sunday she would go to Mass.
But how could she attend Mass knowing that she had committed grave sins? Tomorrow afternoon she might be able to manage sneaking out so she could have a talk with Father Lessard outside the confessional. She could imagine what his advice would be, but perhaps he would reassure her that by reaching out to such a lost soul was enough to make up for the evil that she had done. However, she had to admit to herself, her motives had certainly been less than pure. The pleasure had been an end unto itself, and reaching that peak had been her only goal.
Meg and Gia parted ways at the opera house, but they reunited in time for the afternoon rehearsal. Since they had gone well this week, Madame Giry informed them that tomorrow she would cancel the practice for the principal dancers. There would be no excuse for Gia not to go to St. Etienne's tomorrow.
During the practice Gia did her best to keep Erik's advice in mind as she performed the most difficult part of her solo. Her body knew what to do, she simply had to let it happen and not force it. She thought about who Myrta was, and how the ballet would appear through her eyes. For the few moments of her solo, she would be the focus of the audience, and it was her opportunity to show the character's point of view. It was all going quite well until Gia pictured a full house of the Metropolitan looking only at her, and then she faltered slightly. Damn her and her nervousness! If she was being asked to sing she would not make such a mistake.
Once the rehearsal had ended, she asked Madame Giry for her advice on what to do about her problem. The ballet mistress gave her typical enigmatic response. "I cannot say what will work for you my dear. I only can tell you what has helped others. Some like to imagine the audience in only their under things, others simply pretend they are not there at all. For me, I took solace in the fact that I had prepared myself as adequately as possible and that if I was true to my training, all would be well. It would seem to me your nerves are the result of lack of confidence in yourself. Once you believe you can do it, you will."
With that she left with her daughter, and Gia was not about to linger in the hallways, knowing that Erik would be waiting for her. She found him sitting in her chair with a large satchel that she had never seen before.
"I brought this so I could help you with your things. After all, last night we never did go to my home." As he spoke, he stood up and handed it to her. She put into it the barest of necessities: a brush, her hairpins, both types of ballet slippers, a wrap, and a nightgown.
"Is that sufficiently light enough packing for you Erik?" she quipped, and he reacted by crushing her to him and fiercely attacking her lips with his mouth.
"God, I have missed you! I look forward to Monday when I shall be able to watch you rehearse all day from the confines of a comfortable opera box. To know I've felt that exquisite body move beneath me in time with mine to music of our own making shall have to sustain me when I cannot touch you," he breathed heavily into her ear, his voice deep with want. The tone was enough to conjure intimate images of them and cause her to shudder against him. Erik felt the vibrations travel down from his mouth all the way to the tips of his toes. If they lingered like this much longer he'd have her up against the wardrobe, and after last night he could not afford to be so careless.
They said little to each other in the hallways of the opera house as both were always wary of someone hearing them. Footsteps would be ignored by most people, but voices would not be. Once they entered the cellars Gia revealed that there would be no afternoon rehearsal tomorrow. Pleased, Erik offered to meet her after the morning practice, but Gia that wasn't necessary.
"I have an important errand to run, but once that is complete we can spend the rest of the day together. Whatever shall we do?" she said in a mock questioning manner with her index finger curled around her chin. She was not about to mention going to St. Etienne's to him. He would not understand.
"I'm sure I can come up with something," he said languorously, but he was intensely curious about what sort of errand Gia would be running. He had noticed the extra pairs of toe shoes from the last time he was in her room, so she could not be going to the dance shop. He was well aware she did not have much money and she was not about to waste funds on something unnecessary. Her one weakness was books. That had to be it! But a trip to the bookstore was hardly what he would consider an important errand. He made up his mind that he would follow her to see what she was up to. He wanted to get her a gift anyway, and mayhap her eyes would indicate to him something she wanted but could not afford.
"You know, Erik, we cannot spend the entire weekend abed," she scolded him. "I shall have to do some practicing on my own. Madame Giry says practice may help me gain the confidence I need to overcome my butterflies."
"You should listen to her, Antoinette knows of what she speaks. She used to be quite the bundle of nerves before major performances. She cast up her accounts on more than one occasion," he recalled. "It wasn't until she fell in love with Richard Giry that stopped. He seemed to settle her."
Gia had a hard time picturing the stern ballet mistress as anything less than perfectly composed. The mental picture he had created of Madame Giry becoming violently ill before a performance caused her to let out a loud guffaw that echoed through the vaulted ceilings. He found his voice joining hers in carefree laughter. For much of his adult life, Erik had associated love only with pain, but after tonight he would remember that love could also bring laughter.
Minutes later the sounds of laughter faded into passionate sighs of desire. Those dissolved into sharp cries of pleasure and the quiet whispers of satisfaction. In the silence of his bedroom, Gia and Erik both lay collapsed, completely physically drained. The only thing that could possibly destroy their love was each other.