A/N: I thank you all most profusely for your patience with me. I am trying to do some writing every evening, but I usually only do a couple pages at a time because I've been busy. Once again, this is a slightly shorter chapter, but there should be somme longer ones coming up! As always, I appreciate your reviews, and look forward to reading the next batch.

With the opening performance of Giselle a week away, the Metropolitan Opera was veritable beehive of activity. Rehearsals were now being conducted with the full sets and many of the props that were going to be used during the performance were incorporated as well. Final fittings for the costumes were conducted, and Gia was thrilled when Madame Beaulieu told her the gown would have to be slightly taken in. All of the Wilis were wearing the same costume, but Gia was to be distinguished by carrying a gilded baton as a wand, and her hair was to be pulled back and dressed with pearl beads. All of the other girls were to wear their hair down, but upon their heads would rest wreaths of white roses made of silk.

The costume itself was pure white, both the bodice and the skirt. The sleeves were off the shoulder and formed a deep vee, and it was only upon close examination would one notice that the bodice actually consisted of two layers of fabric. The under-layer was plain white satin, but overlaying it was a gauzy white silk that had been shot through with tiny silver threads. On stage, they would shimmer as they whirled, catching the footlights as they turned. Madame Beaulieu also informed all girls that their stocking and shoes were to be the whitest they could possibly find. Extra money was being allocated for shoes in particular, because it was unlikely they could be reused after a performance because they would become too soiled.

Gia looked at herself in the mirror, garbed in white, and it was impossible for her not to picture herself in a different sort of white dress, standing before the altar with Erik by her side, her near opposite dressed in black. Lost in thought, she curled her thumb around the ring finger of her left hand, missing the feel of the ring there. She wore it whenever they were alone together. It was the first thing she would do when she returned to her room. Before she would even take her hair down, she would slip the band over her finger. In a week and a half another band would join it.

In the evenings, she and Erik would enjoy supper and he would regale her with his activities for the day. He had not been attending the rehearsals as much as he would have liked, mostly because he was at Madame Collette's overseeing the creation of Gia's wedding dress. Three women were sewing the dress, and he was there, along with the couturier herself to fret over nearly every stitch. The ladies teased him about being the most eager bridegroom they'd ever known, and he had found himself enjoying a laugh with them on occasion. To encourage them, one morning he brought along with him a dozen almond croissants for them to eat, and they had all proclaimed he was the most thoughtful client they ever served.

This afternoon he had found himself reluctantly returning to the jewelry shop to select a wedding band. The same young woman was standing behind the counter, and his instinct had been to turn tail and get out of the shop before she noticed him, but at the sound of the bells at the door she raised her ash blonde head and saw him. Her eyes visibly darkened, and she gave him a very appreciative half-smile, almost a leer.

"I see you could not bear to stay away long, Monsieur," she said to him as he walked tentatively toward her.

"Yes. It would seem I now need to purchase a wedding band. I thought since I purchased the engagement ring here you would be able to help me find something that would match it," replied, keeping his voice all business.

"Well Monsieur, a great deal depends on exactly when this wedding of yours is to take place. If it is going to be a long engagement you may want to have something made up particularly for the young lady you are planning to marry. My father is the master jeweler here, and he would be more than happy to accommodate any request you might make." Marie could hardly believe her good fortune that the masked man had returned so soon. She had hoped he would return again, if only so she could see his handsome face. But his money made him all the more attractive. Rich men did take mistresses after all, and soon enough he'd be bored with his little wife. If should attract his attention now, he might be disposed to seeking her out at a later date.

Ever since she had been old enough to peer over the counter, her father had her working behind it selling the various baubles he created. He had been thrilled when she informed him that ring he had modeled after his own wife's engagement ring had been sold. That the man was back so quickly would seem to indicate the lady liked the ring, and this would be an excellent opportunity to gain a wealthy client for her father, and demonstrate her interest in the gentleman. Marie had found that flirting with the male clientele was often instrumental to securing a large purchase. Occasionally this was most burdensome when the men were aging and ugly, but she needed little encouragement faced with this man.

He was probably scarred in some way beneath the mask, but she found his scowl far more disconcerting than the piece of porcelain concealing a part of the right side of his face. "Monsieur, would you like me to fetch my father?" she asked gently, hoping her smile would cheer him up. A man who was supposedly in love should not look quite so dour!

"That will not be necessary, Mademoiselle. My wedding is to be in a little over a week, so I doubt there will be time to have anything made. I would be grateful if you would select something you thing appropriate. Your previous choice certainly met with the approval of my fiancée." The girl was giving him the oddest looks, and he felt so disconcerted that she was studying him so closely that he forgot what he was going to say next. It was almost as though she was appraising him like she would a pair of earrings.

It struck Erik as something of a shame that there would not be time to have a custom ring executed, but he could make due with what was available. "I was thinking it should be very simple, nothing elaborate," he said when he was able to find his voice again.

"I would agree with you, Monsieur. The stone in the engagement ring is so fine, nothing in the wedding band should detract from it," she said thoughtfully as she reached into case to take out the tray of available rings. The man had good taste that was for certain. She laid the rings out on the counter, and he picked up each one in turn, inspecting it carefully by holding it up between his leather covered thumb and forefinger. It was only when he had gone through all of them that he pushed the fourth ring he had looked at toward her. It was a platinum band, but engraved all around it were entwining vines of ivy. Only the plain platinum band was less ornate, and he asked if one could be found in his size.

Marie was a bit surprised since most fashionable men did not wear wedding bands, but he took of the glove on his right hand so she could obtain his ring size. There was not a plain band large enough for him, and she dashed into the backroom. Moments later a man who must have been in his early forties came out with her. His black hair was streaked with gray, but he was still a fine figure of a man, not yet hunched from spending his days leaning over a jeweler's table.

"So you are the gentleman my Marie has told me of! I do believe I can have a ring made to fit you before the date of the wedding since the design you have chosen is so simple. I shall leave my child here to arrange the details. But be careful, Monsieur I believe she is quite taken with you!" he said jovially before he returned to his workroom.

At her father's remark, Marie had the good grace to redden almost instantly. She had not thought she had been quite so transparent as all that! Exposed by her father, she took the rest of the gentleman's order which included the engravings for the inner band of the rings, doing her best to keep her eyes focused on the slip she was filling out. She promised everything would be done in a week, and he left a generous down payment on both rings. After the way her father had embarrassed her, he would probably never come back one he had the rings. The gentleman left, and she went to the work room to deliver the order to her father.

He sat up at the sound of his daughter's footsteps. She looked slightly wilted, but he would rather she suffer a small bruise to her dignity now rather than make a fool of herself by chasing after a man who was so clearly above her station. She had talked of nothing but the man in the mask for the past couple of days. She wordlessly handed him the order slip, and it was obvious she was angry with him. He read it over and before she could clomp off in a huff, he called out to her, "Marie, it is best you forget that man! Any man who would have this inscription put inside his fiancée's wedding band will not be looking for a girl to warm his bed anytime soon."

A curious look crossed her face, and he waved at her to come up to the bench and explained the strange words on the slip of paper to her. A tear slipped from her right eye, and she wiped it away. "Oh Papa, how romantic!"

He nodded and patted his only child on the back. It was a good thing that the hearts of the young could be mended so easily.

On the way back to her room, Gia found herself waylaid by Monsieur Dupoix, who after being very effusive in his praise for her work, handed her a letter that had been delivered to the opera house that afternoon addressed to her from the Viscomtess de Chagny.

"You will tell me if they have decided not to attend the gala, won't you? I was so hoping that they would enjoy the performance enough to consider becoming patrons again. It's something of a tradition in the family, you know," he said somewhat nervously as he wrung his hands.

Gia was certain she knew what the letter would be regarding, so she sought to soothe the man who had been as a father to her. "I doubt that they would miss the performance. Meg Giry is a dear friend of the viscomtess, and this shall be her debut as Giselle. And I believe she was even a dancer at one time herself." She thanked him for the note, and took his hands in hers to still them. He stilled and regained some of his composure.

"Well, my dear, even if they cannot come, at least they have given enough notice that the seats can be sold. The demand for tickets has been quite extraordinary! I dare say every performance will be sold out." At that Gia blanched visibly and sucked in her lower lip to nibble on it without thinking. Poor child was so anxious! "My dear, if the reports I have heard are to be believed, you have nothing to worry about. Madame Giry is quite pleased with your work, and coming from her that is high praise indeed." He bid her good evening and reminded her of the importance of getting a good night's rest, to which she simply nodded dutifully.

She found Erik awaiting her on her bed. He was asleep, lying on his back with his hands protectively resting on his chest. His mask was sitting on her night table, and she gazed upon his bare face, which was so relaxed while in peaceful repose. His long dark eyelashes nearly scraped along his cheeks. She did not want to disturb him, but when he heard the noises of her undressing he woke up. Moving silently, he surprised Gia while she was changing behind her screen. Her torso was completely bare, but her ballet skirt was still on, as were her stockings. Her curly hair was let down and he wrapped himself around her, and slid his left hand up to cup her right breast.

She gasped at the contact, but the shock rapidly gave way to a moan of want as he teased the nipple with his fingers, giving enough pressure to cause it to pucker into a tight bud. But then his fingers danced around it, as he buried his face into her neck, nuzzling it. She leaned back into him and rocked her hips back in silent invitation making him painfully hard. He freed his erection from his trousers, and just as he was poised to rip her stockings off so he would be able to slide into her wet and welcoming warmth, she pulled away from him, leaving him bereft.

When she turned to face him, she took one look at him and her lips twisted into a lopsided grin, and he watched as her breasts jiggled when she stifled a laugh. "Well, what do we have here?" she asked as she cocked her head slightly to one side and crossed her arms across her chest, effectively shielding herself. He groaned, hoping that would be enough to get her to undress, but to his chagrin, she was pulling a nightgown on, pretending as if he was not standing before her, the evidence of his desire for her evident.

He could only stare at her as she wriggled out of the skirt and stockings, all the while maintaining her modesty. She finally said to him, "You know, my dear, you really should see to that. Button yourself up, I have something to show you." He was half tempted to shove that nightgown up over her waist in order to satisfy himself, but he did as she asked, cursing her under his breath.

Gia walked over to the vanity and handed him the letter. He recognized the stationary immediately as Christine's before he even noticed the address.

"Although it is addressed to me, I am assuming the letter is for you, Erik."

He broke the seal on the envelope and read the letter. Gia looked on, studying his face, hoping that it might betray his thoughts. He knit his brows together, and pouted his lips slightly, but that told her little. Once he had finished it, he dropped his right hand to his side a moment before he gave the letter to her to read.

She made short work of it, and said, "They are willing to see you."

"It would seem so."

"Christine sounds most eager. I hope she will able to keep her husband in check. She does say that she does not think he wants to do this." Gia's voice was filled with concern. From her one evening with the vicomte she knew he was a man very much in love with his wife. There was no telling what he might be capable of if he perceived Erik as a threat to his marriage. "Are you certain you should do this, Erik?"

"I have to, my love. I owe Christine, and dare I say, that boy, some answers for my past actions. I promise to be on my very best behavior. I have no desire to provoke him," he replied. Gia was absentmindedly clutching her nightgown and worrying her fingers on it, a habit he noticed she only displayed when she was agitated.

"Are you going to use my room for you meeting? It does seem like an ideal location. It will be easy to give an excuse to bring them back here, and you can access the room without too much worry of being seen," she commented.

"Gia, I want you to be here. I want them to see you."

"Erik, I have no desire to be paraded in front of them and displayed for your benefit!"

She had mistaken his meaning, and Erik sought the proper words to say what he really meant. He closed his eyes and exhaled a deep breath before he answered her. "I am not trying to show you off. I do not want you to think that I want to see them merely to impress them with how I have changed. I want you to be here because I doubt they will believe that you are my willing companion unless you assure them otherwise."

Considering the history among them, he was making sense. However the idea of being present when they talked about events of which she had no part, events that had brought such pain to them all; it would be like being the worst sort of voyeur. She did not want to tell Erik that she would rather not hear any more of that night. She would stand silently by his side and give him the support he needed and only enter the conversation if she was directly addressed.

"I will stay then. But only because it will be good for you to have at least one person in the room who you can be certain does not want you dead," she joked, hoping it would mask her fear. "Besides, I'm just about as big as the viscomte, I can always help you fight him off if need be."

He chuckled at her jest, and pulled her in for a warm embrace. He whispered gently into her ear, "Have I told you today how much I love you?"

He both heard and felt her response to the negative against his cheek.

"I have been most remiss in my duties as fiancé to forget something like that. Now if you don't mind, I would like to show you just how much I love you."

Erik felt her sigh against his chest. She titled her face up to his and said to him, her eyes shining, "You don't have to show me, Erik. You prove it to me a thousand little ways everyday." And then she kissed him sweetly, her tongue dipping into his mouth drawing his out. When she broke the kiss, she took his hand and guided him to the bed.

He began to undress, and he was surprised when she did not immediately follow suit, but instead went over to her vanity. The top of the wooden vanity was what he liked to think of as controlled insanity, strewn with hair pins, her brush, and various other feminine accoutrements. He watched with interest as she rooted around for a moment, and pulled out a familiar looking tin.

God, he was a lucky bastard!

He told her so, and she replied cryptically, "Erik, you aren't the only one who has been doing some shopping in his spare time."