A/N: I hope everyone is having a pleasant Father's Day. I just finished this up, and I can't wait to hear all of your thoughts. I must say it was a bit daunting to write so much dialogue, but I think it came out alright. I look forward to all of your thoughts and comments.

Erik had never been the most patient of men. He found himself nervously pacing around Gia's bedroom waiting for her to arrive. Of course he was well aware that since this had been a dress rehearsal, there was more than ample reason for her delay. First she would want to remove the stage make-up and have her hair taken down. Only then would she change out of the costume. Then she would want to sponge off before she dressed and returned to her room. He knew all these things, but he found the wait interminable.

The time dragged on, and the room was becoming oppressively hot. To relieve himself, he removed his mask, and cast aside his black tailcoat, burgundy brocade waistcoat, and black silk cravat. He loosened his shirt lawn shirt from the confines of his trousers, yet the heat remained. Erik could feel his shirt becoming damp in places, clinging to the overheated skin on his chest and back. In frustration he yanked the damp material over his head, leaving him naked to the waist.

It brought him little relief, and unless he wanted to greet Gia nude, there was no other clothing he could remove. He was overcome with the need to break something, anything, and his first thought was to tear into one of the old opera posters on the wall. The sweet sound of shredding the wooden fibers would calm him. There was one particularly obnoxious one of Maria Bianci dressed as Elissa from Hannibal. He had always hated it as it reminded him of the insufferable Carlotta.

He hooked his thick fingers into the large sheet of paper that was fragile with age, and was a heartbeat away from using it to exorcize his mounting rage when he noticed the window to cramped chamber was shut. He threw up the sash, and the cool air of the early evening swirled over him, finally giving him a reprieve he had been seeking. Erik's respiration returned to normal once he took in a few deep breaths of the twilight.

That was how Gia came upon him, his chest heaving, and his lips moving in a prayerful litany, his fists clenched as though he did not trust himself to control his hands. His eyes were tightly squeezed shut, highlighting the innumerable little lines around his astonishing eyes. She looked on his body in wonderment, transfixed at the sight of it. Male potency oozed from every pore. His chest and arms were firm and well muscled as though they were carved from fine marble. There was the barest hint of softness at his stomach, and her eyes followed the trail of dark hairs that vanished into his trousers. What was man this beautiful doing with her?

He was so lost in thought he had not heard her enter the room. His eyes only opened the moment the door clicked shut. The cause of his upset could either be her or Christine. Gia could not help but hope it was the latter rather the former.

She stood before him wearing one of her high-necked black dresses, the only visible skin her hands and face. It was a striking contrast between her and Erik whose clothes lay in a heap on her chair. His eyes were a wild shade of blue-green that nearly glowed in the low light of the room. Wordlessly she began to undo the buttons along the bodice of the gown, but she stopped when the cold night air caused goose-pimples to erupt all over her body.

"Erik, could you please shut that window. It's going to give me a chill if it stays open all night," she informed him.

With slightly hunched shoulders to indicate his displeasure, he went to the window and pulled the window down so forcefully, Gia was certain the panes were going to shatter. Thankfully, they only rattled in their grooves when the window came to abrupt, loud halt.

"There was no need for that, Erik. I did ask you nicely."

"I was hot," he stated as though it required some sort of explanation.

"There is something more going on here than you being overheated. Tell me what is gnawing at you this evening. I want you to confide in me," she simply asked him. "Was it something that happened at rehearsal?"

She knew him so well. For all he had thought himself a complex and difficult man to know, Gia's feminine intuition had rarely served her ill when it came to him. "I saw you and Christine together on the stage this afternoon. You two spoke briefly, and then her husband intervened. I need to know what happened. It's been all I could think about since I saw the three of you together," he said answering her without prevarication.

"After I made my bow Christine first inquired after my health and told me she was looking forward to seeing the performance. She then proceeded to invite me to dinner with her, her husband, and the Girys after the gala, an invitation I declined. She also asked if I would meet her for lunch tomorrow, and when I informed her I would be a poor companion since I have nothing but the ballet on my mind, Monsieur Dupoix intervened and insisted that I go. I was not about to cause a scene in front of the entire company so I agreed to go."

"And what did Monsieur le Viscomte want?" Erik asked, his eyes growing cold and hard.

"It would seem Raoul was planning to have lunch with Christine tomorrow. He asked her if he could dine with us, and she told him she preferred to speak to me alone. He was not pleased, Erik. I do not think he trusts to leave her alone."

So that was it? Prince Charming was that insecure he was afraid to leave his wife alone for an hour. There would have been a time when Erik would have been prepared to use that sort of information to his advantage. Instead it only disconcerted him further. Raoul was positively paranoid, and paranoid men do not act rationally. He had wanted to meet the man unarmed as a show of good faith, but that seemed rather reckless given the circumstances.

"Do you have an idea what she wants?" he inquired.

"I am assuming she wants to talk about you. Or perhaps she thinks that away from the opera house and your prying eyes she can determine if you spoke the truth in your letter. She almost assuredly has doubts that there is any real affection between us. I will do my best to ease her mind. Hopefully she will in turn speak to her husband. I do not think he will be so easily convinced though. That man is itching for a fight, Erik. I can feel it," she said, her voice shuddering. "I do not want to lose you."

Gia wanted to feel his arms around her shoulders. When they enfolded her, she felt safe and loved. Although she stood there with her dress half unbuttoned, she went to him. Her nose and mouth sought shelter against his neck, and his response was rock her gently as he hummed a soothing song to her. After the tremors subsided, and she had composed herself, Erik acted as her ladies maid and assisted Gia with undressing.

Her legs were unsteady from the exertion of rehearsal, and he felt guilty about his lascivious thoughts as he watched her tug off her chemise, leaving her bare before his eyes. A moment later the cool white cotton of her nightdress covered her, but in his mind's eye she was gloriously naked, her rich curves displayed to him. His cock hardened as he thought of the way her pert, full breasts felt in his hands, and the low moans she would make whenever he touched her. But that was something that would have to wait for another night. Her slow, heavy movements were as revealing if she had vocalized her desire for sleep.

Erik drew the sheets aside for her and she sunk into the bed, settling to the side furthest from the door, leaving room for him to join her. When he did not take his place by her side, she gave him a quizzical glance, her lips pursing slightly.

"Gia, I am going to leave you alone tonight. You are exhausted, and need your rest. In fact, it would probably be best if ceased spending my nights here until after the gala."

Her voice was thick and slurred slightly with slumber. "Stay, please."

"I will stay until you fall asleep, but then I am going back to the cellar. That bed is too cramped for both us anyway. Your legs will be happy for the extra room," he said keeping his voice light. A ghost of smile played across her lips, and she closed her eyes, signaling her assent to his wishes.

As she was carried away by dreams, he put shirt back on, but did not bother with the rest of his garb. Taking her leather bound copy of Shakespeare's collected works off the top shelf, he flipped through until he came to Hamlet. He had gotten as far as the entrance of the king's ghost when he decided he was in no mood to read of tragedy. He turned instead to Much Ado About Nothing and found himself chuckling at the exploits of the caustic Benedick and the witty and wise Beatrice.

It struck him it would make a lovely light opera. He had always confined himself to very dramatic material overflowing with sensuality and pain. A project such as this would be a challenge. He looked up and seeing that Gia was sleeping peacefully, Erik took the heavy volume with him and returned to his lair.

It was only as the first rosy fingers of dawn touched the sky that he sought his bed. Already the overture was complete.

In order to accommodate Gia's lunch with the Viscomtess de Chagny, the rehearsal schedule was rearranged. During the morning the second act was performed with everyone in full costume so that Gia would not have to present at all for the afternoon. She was rather embarrassed at the added attention, and it was difficult to concentrate knowing that performance would be more scrutinized than ever. There would only be one more days of rehearsals, and then the opening performance would be Friday evening before a sold-out theater. Her focus should be on that, but between now and then she had to deal with Christine and her husband.

She hurried backstage to her dressing room once the practice was concluded, and with some assistance she dressed for lunch. She wore her best black dress which was a bit heavy for the warm April air, but there was nothing else appropriate for her to wear. The dress Erik had given her was suitable for a dinner engagement, but was far too formal for today. She spotted the carriage bearing the de Chagny crest almost immediately upon exiting the Metropolitan. A footman opened the door for her, and inside she found Christine waiting for her.

The viscomtess looked lovely in a butter-cream yellow dress edged with ecru lace. It was sophisticated yet not overdone. It was the perfect dress to prevent Gia from feeling ill at ease in the presence of a woman of means. No sooner had the door of the open carriage closed with a click, then Christine directed the driver to take them to a fashionable café near the Champs Elysées that she had heard of been never been to. They were seated almost immediately after they arrived, and the maitre d' waited on them personally.

Gia barely glanced at the menu and paid little attention to what she ordered. The man gave her an odd look which disappeared when Christine raised her eyebrows, a warning that he should simply comply with Gia's request and leave. The viscomtess exuded calm, her brown eyes soft and warm looking. They had only exchanged the required greetings when Gia entered the carriage, and other than that no conversation had taken place.

In the past two years, Christine had become accustomed to awkward social situations such as this one, so she was the one who ended the gulf of silence between them.

"The food here is excellent. This was one of the first places Raoul took me after I recovered from the incident. I felt so out of place, like I didn't belong. I imagine you feel much the same way."

Christine was a perceptive woman. Although she was eight years younger, there was a maturity there beyond her years. Gia supposed she had to grow up quickly once she left the Opera Populaire. "Indeed, I have never been very comfortable in places such as these. I feel like people are staring at me. I would much rather be anonymous and go unnoticed," Gia replied.

"In that way, you are not unlike Erik. More at ease in the shadows and the background rather than the forefront. Although he always did insist on making himself noticed. And he assumed that you wanted that as well. In that way, it would seem little of him has altered in the past two years," she reflected as she sipped her tea.

Gia blanched at the mention of Erik's name, and nearly choked on the piece of bread she was nibbling at. She set it down, and took a gulp of her coffee to keep it from sticking in her throat. "Yes, that is true. Were in not for him, I would not be in this production of Giselle at all. I would take issue with you, that he has not changed, but I did not make his acquaintance until six weeks or so ago. I believe he is not proud of the man who tried to force you to marry him, but we have never discussed all that passed between you both in great detail. He did give me an idea of the events of that evening however."

"Did he tell you he was going to kill Raoul until I kissed him?"

"Yes. But he let you both go."

Christine was surprised he had been so forthright with her. She would have thought Erik would have spared her the truth as much as possible in order to get her to fall in love with him. There was little doubt in her mind that Gia cared deeply for the man she had once only known as her angel of music. At the mention of his name she had gotten a far away look in her eyes, betraying the fact she was thinking of him despite the fact she was with someone else.

"Do you know why he let us go?" she asked.

"I do not believe it is my place to say such things, Christine," Gia answered, using her Christian name, rather than the more formal title she was due. "I will leave it to him."

"I can see why he chose you, Gia. I was like you. Very meek, very sheltered by Madame Giry. I never thought to connect the fearsome Phantom of the Opera with the spirit coaching me in the chapel. And when he revealed himself to me, I could barely speak I was so taken with his physical beauty. I only realized later that he let me see only what he wanted me to see."

Gia's nostrils flared at Christine's remarks. Courtesy demanded that she not contradict the woman who had invited her out, but she could not stomach being insulted by her.

"Is it so impossible for you to believe that he would prefer me to you? I know I do not possess your beauty or your voice. I am more than aware of how far short I come in comparison to you. I have hated you for that. I still fear I might lose him to you. But I do know he loves me." It was nearly impossible for Gia to keep her voice at the proper level for respectable conversation. A part of her wanted to slap her for the cutting remark.

"How can you be so convinced?"

"His eyes do not lie."

Christine was about to respond when a waiter arrived with their lunches. Gia looked at the plate set before her, and realized why she had received the perturbed glance earlier: she had ordered breakfast. On the gleaming white china sat a mound of perfectly scrambled eggs, along with hot buttered and toasted French bread, and a slice of pink ham. Her expression must have been comical because she could hear Christine's lilting laugh.

"Only a woman in love would make such a mistake," she giggled, reverting for a moment to the days when she used to gossip with Meg about anyone and anything at the Populaire. The girlishness did not last long, as her dark eyes became serious and she said, "You are right about his eyes. They are not capable of masking his true emotions."

For several long minutes, the two women sat and ate. Mostly, they pushed the food around pretending to enjoy it, but actually consuming little.

When it became clear neither was going to keep up the pretense of eating any longer, Christine reopened the conversation.

"Erik said in his letter that you two were engaged. I notice you do not wear a ring."

Gia gave the viscomtess an icy glare and shot back, "You do not wear one either."

The other women responded archly, "I do not wear one because Erik has it. Did he share that with you, Mademoiselle Burnside?"

Gia's initial response was look daggers at the viscomtess and hope the woman would collapse from the weight of Gia's stare. She nearly hissed at her, "Yes. He told me you gave it to him to remember him by. Was that the truth?"

"I gave it to him after he let us go. We had started to leave, and I realized I would never see him again, and I told Raoul I wanted to go back. I found him singing to his little music box, and then he looked at me so hopefully I was almost unable to leave him again. I did give him the ring so that he would not forget me. I thought it would be a comfort to him in his last hours. I was certain the mob would find him, and I felt he deserved to have something of mine at the end.

You see, Gia, I loved him. Perhaps not in the same manner that you love him, but I loved him. There were times I wished I could have been to him everything he wanted me to be, but my heart was with Raoul. Leaving Erik to die was the most difficult thing I have ever done. I knew I was the ultimate cause of his undoing, and that has always stayed with me. If you have brought him happiness, perhaps I can begin to forgive myself for that."

Christine's admission that she felt responsible for what happened that night gave Gia pause. "You should not blame yourself, Christine there is plenty of blame to be laid at the feet of everyone involved. It would seem that you want to see Erik to talk about that night as much as he does."

"Will you be there?"

"My place is at his side. He may need me."

There was a double meaning in that. Gia would offer him emotional as well as physical support. She did not doubt the woman could be as a valkyrie, fierce and willing to fight to death to protect the man she loved. Raoul would be unwise to cross her.

Turning the conversation to a slightly different topic, she inquired as to when Gia and Erik planned to marry. That brought a smile to her lunch companion's face.

"A week from today at St. Etienne's. It will be a small private ceremony, but Erik has insisted on going to the trouble of having a wedding gown made for me. The only people who will see it will be him, the priest, and possibly the Girys."

"He invited them?" Christine knew that Madame Giry had known Erik for quite some time, but he had never spoken with Meg to her knowledge. And he was having a gown made? To have one done so quickly would cost him a fortune.

"I invited them," Gia clarified. "Madame Giry is a kind woman, and he is almost a brother to her. Meg is a dear girl and I like her even if she can be nosy as times. But if they cannot be there, I will understand. As long as Erik is there it will be perfect."

"What are you going to do once you are married?" Christine found herself asking. "I cannot imagine Erik is ready to hold himself out to the public as a husband."

"Truly, Christine, I do not know what is going to happen after we are married. I tell myself I shall take matters as they come. For now, I will be content to be his wife," she concluded.

"Gia, I hope you will forgive me for asking you this, but I must know. Have you seen what he looks like without his mask?" It was terribly intrusive and gauche thing for her to ask, but Christine well remembered what his reaction had been when she had taken his mask off. She had been intensely curious to see what he looked like, and it had not occurred to her that he was hiding behind it for a reason. Had he shared his great shame with Gia? If he had, she would be more willing to believe there was no pretence involved.

"Yes. He does not wear it when we are together."

"I find that difficult to believe. He flew into quite the temper when I removed it."

"Perhaps it is because you removed it without asking, Christine. Now, let me ask you a question: Did you reject him because of his face? Because he was less than perfect?"

The viscomtess murmured the word "no" so quietly Gia barely heard her, as though she was ashamed at her forwardness. She continued, "His face was a shock, but it did not disgust me. I was frightened of him. He was too intense. I sensed that there was something not right about the way he regarded me. His appearance was not my main consideration."

"I hope you will tell him that tomorrow. It might go a long way to convincing him he does not need to hide away from life," Gia replied. "I want you to know that I will not let you or your husband hurt him again."

The woman in the yellow dress took a final sip of her tea, and nodded in agreement and understanding. In that moment a silent pact was forged between the two women. They would both do what was in Erik's best interests. United in their mutual love for him, they would both act as his protectors against Raoul if need be.

On the carriage ride back to the Metropolitan, Christine vowed that she would speak to her husband. She apologized for any rudeness she might have displayed over lunch and explained that her goal had been to try to get a hold on what Gia felt for Erik without her husband present. Although they did not shake hands or even exchange the usual parting pleasantries, both women left feeling far more sure the past need not be repeated tomorrow evening.

That evening Christine gave a narrative of the afternoon events to her husband, hoping to convince him there was little reason to think Erik would try to harm either of them. His response had been to largely ignore her and concentrate on testing the sharpness of his saber with a sheet of paper.