Authoress's Note:
Thanks, proudmaxfan, for pointing that error out. From now on, The Phantom's name will be spelled correctly. Enjoy this next chapter.

Chapter Three: Venice

Celeste stood at the great windows that overlooked the magnificent, almost magical, city of Venice. It's canals reflected the lights both lining the streets and in the night sky. It seemed like the stars had shone brighter here than they ever did in Paris. Infact, she was still thinking about that last morning in Paris. After they had taken the money from it's hiding place under the Opera Popular, Erik had set them up- temporarily- in very lovely hotel rooms while he arranged for carriages to pick them up in the morning, and to have her clothes- freshly laundered- delivered ahead of them to their new rooms in Italy. Then, that morning as Celeste, dressed no longer in rags but in a very nice dress of palest powder blue and matching feather plumed bonnet, waited for their bags to be loaded, she took some money ("Your allowance", Erik had said) from her new purse and bought a newspaper.

As Erik shouted commands of "Be careful with that, you idiots!" and "You will more then pennies if you drop those," Celeste scanned the news in the front pages. Just something about the Restoration in the United States… The Phantom had yet to be captured… One on the bottom caught her ttention. 'Viscount and Singer Wed'. Apparently, the Viscount de Chagny had wed an old childhood sweetheart. A woman whom had sung in the Opera… A girl named Christine Daae.

"Christine?" Celeste whispered to herself. Could this be the same woman Erik was calling for when he was sick? When he was asleep? Even now, when he'd sleep she would wake to hear him calling that name 'Christine'. "It can't be," Celeste said. But then she looked at the photos on the botom, under the article. The Viscount was very goodlooking, and the woman... Celeste couldn't compete with this woman. This picture alone radiated beauty! It would be frightening if the woman were ther in person. No wonder Erik dreamed of her. But why should such an idea make Celeste feel tightness in her chest. Why did the thought of Erik pledging devotion to this woman, who had so obviously rejected him, make her want to retch her breakfast?

"Mademoiselle Diamond," Erik called to her. "Time to shake the dust of this city off our feet."

"Right," Celeste said, looking up at him, smiling, tossing the periodical in the gutter.

That had been four months ago. As soon as they had reached Venice they went to Erik's contact in the city, and the manager of the Vittoria Theatre, and let her audition. She was hired on the spot.

Tonight she would play third chair violin in the orchestra as the theatre performed Carmen. She and Eric had practiced in the weeks leading to opening night. He would sing, while she would play her part of the accompaniment. As she stood at her windows and thought about the incoming performance, Celeste knew she owed so much to Erik… But she found she was still very unhappy.

"Why aren't I happy?" she asked her transparent reflection in the window.

Break

Erik finished his preenings without the use of a mirror. He was looking forward to this night for ages. All his preparations and his new hopes were resting in Celeste (Miss Diamond Hitoshima, as all knew her now). He would hide in the most secretive box in the house, Box 2. It wasn't as close to the stage as he was accustomed to, but it gave him a good view of the orchestra.

Erik could still hardly get over the luck he had had in not only discovering Celeste, but in getting out of Paris. He had had to cover his face in bandages while in their carriage when they had passed a police check point. Thanks to an old friend he had in Paris- one of few left- he had been warned that the police had been looking in all carriages in roads leading out of the city so they could arrest The Phantom, if he fled. Luckily Erik passed by, with his bribed driver able to answere that the tow passengers were a honeymooning couple. When they had inquired about the bandages, the driver also said that the husband had been injured in an accident in a wx factory.

" He's a candle maker," the driver had said. "If he makes good enough money to pay me, I wouldn't care what he was, honestly." Erik didn't appriciate that remark, but he still overpaid the twit for getting him past the checkpoints.

Now, Erik took his new blonde wig and placed it on his head. Then, satisfied at last, he walked briskly across his rooms to the door that separated his living quarters from Celeste's. "My dear Miss Hitoshima," he called as he knocked on the door.

"Come in," Celeste said. Erik opened it and took his measure. She was stunning in a slimm black dress. The sleaves were cut short so as not to interfere with her playing, and the skirt fit her hips to avoid being too voluminous, yet it's skirts also swirled out to avoid being too provocative. Then again, the way it displayed her slendar shoulders and… other things, might defeat that purpose.

"You're a vision," he said, approaching and taking her small hands in his.

"You're being nice, Seniore Angeli," Celeste said, smiling, and lowering her green eyes.

"You should be glad that I am nice now, since I will brate your mistakes after the show," he said, raising a finger.

"That is if I make any," she said, taking her hands back and walking around and behind him, to pick up her violin case.

"You are not to touch anything," he called to her, rushing to take her case himself. "I do not want your hands to be injured, or else you cannot play."

"Then you shouldn't have been holding them earlier," she said. She reached out and grabbed the handle to the case he held, "Give me my violin, since I need it as well as my hands."

"I will carry it for you," Erik insisted.

"I can carry it myself," she replied, her voiced edged with annoyance and anger. "I've been doing it since I was eight."

Though he enjoyed these games, neither had time for it tonight. "If you insist," and he let go. She had been pulling so hard that she staggered back a bit before she regained enough balance to keep from falling over. He couldn't help but laugh. "Have you ever been told you that you are quite pretty when you're angry?"

"Have you ever been told you're annoying?" She spat back. "Let's go, we'll be late." He continued to chuckle lightly as he followed her into the sitting rooms in front of both their bedrooms. From a coat rack, he reached to take Celeste's coat and help her into it when she set down her case and grabbed it first. "I can do this too," she said, shrugging her arms into the sleaves.

"As you wish, Diamond," he said, taking his cloak and tophat down, and reaching for a cane that was propped against the wall.

"Don't smirk at me," she said, getting her case and heading for the door.

"I can smirk if I want," he replied. He cut her off in front of the door and reached for the knob, "May I at least open the door for you, or would you like to add juggling to you repetior?" she sighed and let him open the door, and both were silent as they continued down the stairs and out of the gala Hotel D'Flora.

In the carriage to the theatre, Erik kept his eyes on his pupil. He always asked himself why he teased her so much when he wasn't being the stern teacher. But as he watched her, her eyes darting about as she watched the buildings and people they passed, holding her violin caseas close as a mother holds child, he supposed it was because sometimes she could be so overly serious. He knew that kind of seriousness. He was guilty of it, too, sometimes.

She looked over at him, "What?" she asked. He said nothing.

"Stop looking at me like that," she demanded. "Why are you smiling? What'sso funny?"

"You, at the moment," he replied. "Can I not look on my prodigy with satisaction? Can't a teacher look at his pupil and be proud of her?"

Her cheeks went pink under her makeup, making the shade of the peach blush already on her cheeks a deep rose red. Finally, she smiled back. "Fine. But don't let your ego swell up so big it can't fit through the doors." She looked out the window again and declared, "I shall be so magnificent tonight that theaudence will cheer for the orchstra to do the encore, instead of the actors."

"Now who's ego is swelling?" Erik asked her.

Break

The performance was wonderful. Erik in the balcony, and Celeste in her chair in the orchestra pit paid attention throughout every act. The only thing that went wrong, at least to Celeste, was that at one point she went a little flat after intermission, but she caught it as quickly as she could. When it was over, as the audience deafened the building with their applause, Celeste looked up to the box her tutor had been in. He had already slipped out. Before she knew it, she had been swept to the great reception being held for opening night. She had just gotten a glass of champagne, when three of her fellow instrumentalists swarmed over her.

"Dear Diamond your simply glowing!
Your talent is beyond compare
." They all said (sung).
"You must have been taught well,
To make strings sound like bells."

A young man on her left asked, "If only I had your master,"

"Then say what you want to ask her!" insisted an older gentleman behind her.

"Can you ask him to be my tutor too?" asked the young cellist.

"Um," Celesete stalled, looking around, seeing an excuse to leave. Then a young woman, one of the people serving refreshments, came up to her.

"Seniora," said the girl, "This is a note for you."

"Thank you." she said, shaking off the men. She turned so they couldn't look over her shoulder, and looked at he note. It was from Erik, he was waiting for her in under the draperies in the far right corner of the room. She crumpled the note and turned to the gentlemen behind her. "Excuse me," she said, "I have a bit of a headache, I need to move away form these lights." and she backed away to the dark corner.

As she stood there, she heard his voice whisper in her ear, "You were flat after intermission."

"Only for a minute," she whispered back.

"It was long enough," he said. "We will need to practice as soon as we return."

"Do we?" she asked, "I'm exhausted."

"There is no rest for those who wish to be master musicians," he said.

Celeste sighed. "Alright. What is my punishment? Play the second act allover again?"

"For that remark, you shall play the entire opera again," he said angrily.

"What's wrong with you?" she demanded. People near her looked at her with raised eyebrows. She laughed and looked down, actign as if she were studying her shoes with great interest. Then she whispered to Erik, "What happened to your cheerful mood? I thought you were 'proud of your prodigy'?"

"I was," he said, "Until you nearly botched the entire production."

"You have more moodswings than a pregnant woman," she said. "This is about more than a missed note, isn't it?"

Erik was quiet for a minute. She feared he had disappeared again. Then, she felt his hand on her shoulder. His grip tight. The touch made her heart start beating hard in her chest. The hairs on her arms and the back of her neck were standing on end. "My past is trying to catch up with me," he admitted. She felt his breath as he whispered into her ear, "A wretched woman from Paris comes to sing here next week."

"Who?" she asked.

Break

He told her later, back in the hotel. In her lavish rooms, under light of candles. She sat in the side of her bed, he told her. "She is a nuisance, and the worst diva my ears have had the misfortune to hear. Her name is Carlotta Gudicelli."

"I take it then she isn't another former lover," Celeste said. Was that a hint of gladness in her voice.

Erik laughed. "Of course not. I would have to be blind to love that mule. Actually, I did murder her lover."

"In a duel?" Celeste asked. "That's nothing to be afraid of."

"No," Erik said. "I strangled him the night the Opera burned."

"Not again," she sighed.

"It's true," he insisted. "And this putrid woman has seen me, and she most certainly would still crave my blood as retribution for Piangi." he felt himself begin to sweat. His breathing grew haggard. His mind filled with all that would happen of he were arrested. These fears mingled with memories of the abuse he had experience at the hand of the gypsies… "I couldn't endure that whip again!" he cried out again, grabbing the sides of his head. "I can't! I can't!"

"Eirk!" Celeste cried, "Stop, you're getting worked up for nothing. You're not a killer!"

He grabbed her shoulders and roughly shook her. "Do you still cling to your own eception?" he hissed. "You still refuse to believe who I am!"

"Let go of me!" she yelled at him. "Erik you're hurting me!"

"Open your eyes!" he commanded her, "I am a murdere and a monster!"

She wrenched an arm free and slapped him hard. He let go of her and raised his hand to his cheek. They were both breathing hard. His panic had subsided. He dared to look at her. Tears of fear were in her eyes.

"Celeste…" he whispered, reaching to wipe her cheek. She hiccupped, and he stopped his hand short. She turned around and reached for her table.

She picked up a handkerchief and, sniffling, said, "Look at you, you're crying." she started clearing away tears he hadn't known he was shedding.

He swallowed and croaked, "So are you."

"I'm fine," she said. When she had dried his face she laid her hands in her lap.

"Celeste… I'm so sorry," he said, looking at her shoulders. He could see a small bruise or two where his fingertips had been. Had he held her that hard? "I-I didn't mean-"

"I've had worse," she said, forcing a smile.

"I have no right," he said. "I swore… I swore many things to myself after I met you. I swore I wouldn't make the same mistakes… I wouldn't hurt you or anyone else… and…" He looked in her eyes, he flet his throat close up. His chest felt like his heart was bleeding in it. He knew this feeling. Her own eyes, dark as emeralds in the light of the candles, looked at him with such concern and worry. He swallowed again, "And… other things."

She looked at him with confusion. He looked down form her face and saw that somehow her hands had gotten a hold of his. He closed his eyes and composed himself, letting his thumbs gently stroke the backs f her hands. " It is too late for our exercises tonight," he said, getting up, taking back his hands. "Tomorrow we will go over Carmen again, as well as prepare for next week's Riggoletto." He strode to the door that separated them, and said, over his shoulder, "Good night, Celeste."

Before he closed the door, he heard her say softly, " Good night, Erik."