Disclaimer: Don't own Phantom.
Notes: Takes place two weeks after the last chapter.
Chapter Seventeen
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"A violin, Christine. You heard me the first time. Surely there's one lying around somewhere up there that no one is using!"
"You're asking me to steal, Erik?"
Erik and Christine were not prone to arguments. That's why the steady raising of Erik's voice was making Christine more and more nervous. They'd simply been lying in bed, both too lazy to get up even though Christine had rehearsals with the corps de ballet in just a few hours. All had been going so well, and then Erik brought up wanting a violin. They didn't have the money for such a thing, and an argument quickly came about.
"It isn't as if they pay you enough for your talents, anyway."
"I refuse to steal from my place of employment. I'm sorry, but there has to be another way to get a violin. Why on Earth do you need one so badly?" Rising up from the bed in a huff, Christine searched around the small curtained off room for her clothes, finding stockings hanging off of a candelabra, her corset under the bed, and her dressing gown in a heap by the door. Memories of their furious lovemaking the night before softened Christine, and she turned to look at Erik.
"I need my music, Christine! I will die without it. Please, you don't understand! It's all I have!"
Angry once again, she stormed from the room, shouting over her shoulder, "You have me!"
XXX
If she won't get me one, I'll get my own.
Those were on the only thoughts running through Erik's mind as he stalked through the labyrinthine passages and made his way to a store room he'd discovered a few weeks ago. He'd been able to find many interesting masks to 'borrow', and now he was hoping to find a much more fitting treasure.
Digging around through boxes filled with musty costumes, no longer in use, and searching dusty shelves, he jumped when he heard footsteps outside the door. Slipping back to mold into the shadows, he cursed softly when he knocked over a box filled with props. The resulting crash was enough to make whoever was outside the room gasp, and the door opened to reveal a tiny ballet dancer's silhouette by the light in the hall.
"H-hello?" she whispered, and Erik stayed completely still and silent in the shadows.
"Mon Dieu, this place really is haunted! Jammes was right!" The door slammed shut, and the scampering footsteps disappeared.
That was close.
Relighting his candle, Erik continued his search, and gave a triumphant smile when he found what he was looking for. Opening the tattered case, he examined the violin and nodded to himself. It needed a bit of work, but soon it would make beautiful music.
Soon, Christine would sing.