a/n So here we are at Chapter 3 already! Anyone that knows my writing habits is sitting looking at the screen going, "Holy lord. She doesn't work this fast for class!" What can I say, I'm a phan at heart and at groin.

Also, a brief explanation of what's going down so far (my bad for no warning about original characters). We all know Erik's parents (or at least his mother) were bitches, but I decided it would be even meaner if they were high society people. Since "Erik" is an old Czechoslovakian name, I'm going to say he's a Czechoslovakian (that's a pain to type, ya know?) and that his sister, Eva, should have a Czech… name as well. Eva is a funkified young lady who didn't like her parents and moved to France to marry her beloved and had extramarital sex, resulting in Jean (pronounced like the character in Les Miserables). Her fiancé left her his house and fortune, then her parents died, leaving her and Erik their fortune. whew!

So, in a nutshell, Erik found out he is a Czechoslovakian count from his sister, who tracked him down after the death of their parents. Ironically, she's lived two miles from the Chagneys the entire time.

E-mail me if you're still confuzzled, because it's all up in the old noggin. Sorry, again!

Also, big thanks to the homies that reviewed so far. I like you guys. I'm thinking about sending y'all e-cards.

CHAPTER 3—THINK OF ME

For the past week, Christine had spent most of her time in the house with Raoul and his family. He had finally returned home, bringing with him a melancholy air and no information for Christine. No matter how much she asked, he would tell her nothing of his trip into Paris. Over and over again she heard the same words.

"Nothing noteworthy happened, Christine. There's nothing you need to know."

One evening, she brought up the subject again, this time saying, "If nothing happened, then what kept you so long?"

"Tracking down the company," he said bluntly. "We had to find everyone to make sure no one was killed."

This was new news to Christine, and it surprised her somewhat. She had not known that the situation had been so serious. "Was anyone killed?"

"No one." Still no room for discussion.

Sighing and leaning back in her seat, Christine decided to change the subject. "When shall we have the wedding, Raoul?"

Glancing up from the book he was reading, Raoul looked at her. "What?"

"The wedding, Raoul!" she said, annoyed. "Our wedding."

"Oh!" He set his book on the table next to him and smiled at her. "I'm sorry, darling, I wasn't paying attention." Raoul leaned back in his seat a bit, still smiling, and said, "When would you like it to be?"

"As soon as possible," she said. "I want to get back on the stage, after all."

At these words, Raoul became uncomfortable. "Christine," he said, quietly. "You… you can't go back to the stage."

Breathing had never been so difficult. "What?"

"It wouldn't be proper, you see, for a married woman of nobility to perform on the stage." He shook his head. "It is not the job of people of society to entertain. It is their job to be entertained."

Somehow Christine found her feet and stood. "Raoul," she said desperately, "you can't take me from the stage. You found me because of the stage." She was crying now. "I need to perform."

Raoul shook his head. "I'm sorry, darling."

If he said anything more, Christine did not hear it. She turned and fled from the room, from the house, from everything that depressed her. She ran all the way down the drive to the road, and then turned to race toward Eva Dusek's house.

As if running from a predator, Christine barreled up the lane. She pounded on the door, trying in vain to wipe the tears from her eyes.

A man Christine had never seen before opened the door and peered down at her with dark, liquid eyes. Christine stared up into his copper face, trying to breathe to tell him that she had to see Eva, but before the words would come out, the man rushed her inside and into the parlor.

"Sit, mademoiselle." His voice was deep and soothing. "What brings you here?"

"Eva," she choked out. "I need… I need to see Eva."

The man nodded, and briefly rested a hand on her arm. "Can I have anything sent in for you?"

"Eva!" she cried.

Nodding again, the copper-faced man rushed from the room. Christine had just managed to slow her tears when he returned less that a minute later with Eva trailing in his wake.

Her face registered shock when she saw Christine. "Christine! What's the matter?"

The tears that had only just stopped came back full-force, and Christine sobbed hysterically as she told Eva what had happened when she had mentioned returning to the stage to Raoul.

"And I'll never be able to sing again!" she finished. She was angry now, and her sobs had subsided somewhat. She looked over at the copper man, who was still standing in the doorway. "And who is he?"

Eva smiled at this and stood up. "This is Nadir," she said. "He's an old friend of my brother's."

Nadir reached out a hand for Christine's, and kissed the back genteelly. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Mademoiselle Daae," he said, smoothly.

"Finally?" Christine asked, confused.

She did not miss the look that passed briefly between Nadir and Eva. "Eva has told me a great deal about you, Christine," Nadir said. "I have accompanied her home for protection."

At this, Eva let out an indignant huff. "As if I need it." She smiled at Christine. "He's protective. Now about your singing." She looked down at Christine. "You can't sing on stage anymore if you marry Raoul, that's true. It would insult him and his family. Not that I agree with it," she added darkly. "However, if you'll follow me, I have something to show you."

Opening the door, Eva led the way through the entrance hall and up the massive staircase, Christine and Nadir trailing behind. After several more minutes of walking, Eva stopped outside a door on the third floor. Smiling, she opened it, revealing a room the likes of which the Chagney house had none of.

It was a music room. Comfortable chairs were positioned on one side of an enormous grand piano. Violins, violas, and various other instruments, both antique and new, lined the walls, and an open case revealed a guitar. Opera scores and volumes of instrumental music lined shelves on the wall, and there were several knee-high stacks of sheet music in one corner of the room.

Christine stood in the doorway in awe for several moments before she was shepherded inside by a beaming Eva.

"You like it?"

Christine had to work to find her voice. "It's… beautiful." She turned full circle to take in everything from the golden drapes at the enormous window to every key on the majestic piano. "God in heaven, Eva, it's fantastic!"

Eva gestured toward the piano with one of her perfect hands. "Do you play?"

Christine shook her head. "I only sing."

This seemed to delight Eva, who rushed toward the wall and began searching for something. "What is your favorite song?" she asked excitedly.

Pondering for a moment, Christine's mind took her back to that first night that she had sung on stage, alone, without the chorus. Back to Hannibal. "There's a song," she said slowly, "from an opera called Hannibal. It's called 'Think of Me.' It's an aria—"

"Hannibal!" Eva tore a volume from the wall, rushing back to the piano and positioning herself on the bench. She flipped through the score for a moment before finding the song. She smiled brightly back at Christine. "You can't sing on stage, that's true. There's nothing to say you can't sing here."

For a moment, Christine did not grasp the meaning of the words coming from her friend's mouth. Then…

"You want me to sing?"

"I hear you make grown men weep, Christine," said Eva slyly. "I'll play, you'll sing, and together, we'll have Nadir on the floor crying like an infant in no time!"

Christine had forgotten all about Nadir, who had been standing in the doorway. At the mention of his name, the man stepped forward. "I may be forced to restrain myself, dear," he said, although to which of them, Christine was not sure. She decided he must have been speaking to Eva, as her cheeks flamed red at the pet name.

"If you say so," Eva said, obviously trying to bring her emotions under control. She looked toward Christine. "Ready?" She began to play.

After the short piano entrance, Christine began to sing.

"Think of me, think of me fondly

When we've said goodbye

Remember me once and a while

Please promise me you'll try

When you find that once again you long

To take your heart back and be free

If you ever find a moment

Spare a thought for me"

As Eva's fingers danced over the keys at the instrumental break, Christine tried to think back to when she had last sang. It had been that night, with him there watching. Deep in the pit of her stomach, Christine felt a pang that she could not identify. As she began to sing again, her mind began to wander.

"We never said our love was evergreen

Or as unchanging as the sea

But if you can still remember

Stop and think of me

Think of all the things

We've shared and seen

Don't think about the way

Things might have been

Think of me, think of me waking, silent and resigned

Imagine me trying too hard to put you from my mind…"

She hoped that if he were alive, he was doing as such. It seemed, for some odd reason, that she had been thinking about him more lately than she used to. She quickly found herself singing to him, wherever he was, and not merely the words on the page.

"Think of the things we'll never do

There will never be a day

When I won't think of you."

No, there wouldn't. The tears that had stopped so long ago were flowing down her face again now.

"Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade

They have their seasons—so do we

But please promise me…"

Her voice trailed off. She felt her knees weaken and she sank to the floor, not willing or able to finish the song. She was crying too hard now to see another look be exchanged between Eva and Nadir. She did not hear Eva tell Corinne to bring tea. All she knew—all she felt—was confusion.

"What's the matter with me?" she sobbed.

She felt a gentle hand rest on her back and she looked up into Eva's pretty face. "What's wrong, Christine?" she asked, her voice sounding worried.

"I can't…" Christine gasped for breath. "I can't stop thinking about him all the time and I don't know why! He's dead, Eva! It said so in the newspaper. He's dead. He's dead."

It wasn't long before Christine lost count of how many times she choked the words out. After a moment, she felt strong arms lift her from the floor, felt herself being carried out of the sitting room and upstairs. She heard Eva telling Nadir to take Christine to the guest room.

"She's losing it," she heard Eva say softly. "She needs rest."

Christine sobbed into Nadir's chest. "I can't—" She was choking again. "I can't keep thinking about…"

"Hush, child," said Nadir gently, resting her on a bed. "Rest." He passed his hands over her face. "Rest, Christine. Sleep. Have no dreams."

And oddly enough, she quickly found herself doing just that.

It was late, and Eva had only just finished a letter to her brother when she felt an urge to sit down at the piano and begin to play. She pulled a volume of Beethoven's music from the wall and opened it to the middle, to a concerto in C minor. It was a song she knew quite well—it had been one of the first pieces of Beethoven's music that she had ever played. She closed her eyes and gently caressed the keys with her fingers. She did not open them she heard the music room door open, nor when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Does this music please you, Eva Dusek?" Nadir asked.

Eva smiled. "It's medicine for the soul," she said. "It soothes me."

She heard a slight clink and opened her eyes to see that he had set a snifter of brandy before her. "Would this soothe you, as well?"

"Only if you help me," she said. "I'm not going to stop playing this piano until I feel thoroughly calmed down. I need this, after today."

Nadir chuckled at this, letting go of her shoulder and reaching for her brandy. He raised it to her lips and she drank, never taking her eyes from the music in front of her. Its warmth spread instantly to her toes and she hummed with pleasure. "Thank you."

Nadir stepped around her to the seat at the side of the piano. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then…

"You do know why I came here, don't you, Eva?"

"Because Erik wanted you to," she said, closing her eyes again. "And because you're his friend."

There was a pause before he spoke again. "Partly." She suddenly felt hands on her shoulders and jumped slightly, pulling her hands from the piano and opening her eyes again. "But that is not the only reason I came."

Eva could feel her face flushing again. "Jean," she stuttered. "Jean adores you. That's why, right?"

Another chuckle announced Nadir's amusement. "Yet, I do admire Jean." He swept her long hair off to one side. "But he isn't the only one I adore."

No, Eva told herself firmly. I can't fall in love again. I can't deal with this again. "He isn't?" she breathed.

Lips gently touched down on her neck. "No," Nadir said simply.

Eva stood up quickly and walked across to the window seat. She looked out toward the woods that separated her estate from the Chagney place. Nadir slowly followed her. Before he could speak again, she said, "Erik would not approve."

"I've spoken to Erik." Nadir reached out and turned down the oil lamp on the piano so that moonlight filled the room. "He approves, I can assure you." He rested his hands on her shoulders again, this time kneading them gently.

A moan slipped from Eva's lips. "I can't…" She leaned back into his hands. They really were wonderful hands. "I have Jean to think about and—"

"I'm not telling you to abandon your son for me, Eva." He pushed her forward a bit so that he could sit behind her. "I would never ask you to do that. I'm asking you to give this a chance." His lips were brushing against her hair now. "There has been something between us, Eva, since you first came to me looking for your brother. You cannot deny it."

"I don't." She found she was actually smiling. "I know it's there. It's only…" She trailed off again.

"Only what?" That wonderfully rich voice again.

"It's been so long for me," Eva whispered. "I haven't loved anyone since Christophe. I don't even remember the last time I—" She stopped, embarrassed.

His lips were on her neck. "The last time you what, Eva?"

Her eyelids fluttered shut. "The last time I… knew a man."

"Do you wish to 'know' me?" Lips were trailing up to her jaw line now; his hands sliding down her arms, making her nightgown slip, exposing one perfect shoulder.

"Yes," she whispered yearningly. He turned her face to his and she opened her eyes again. "Yes."

She was lost again, lost in those amazing liquid eyes, and she saw nothing as he gently touched his lips to hers. She did not see the moonlight, or the trees. She saw nothing but him, and her eyes closed again.

And neither of them saw Christine quietly pull away from the doorway, smiling quietly as she headed back to her room and closing the music room door softly behind her.