Sorry for no update yesterday. On a more exciting note, I got to meet and record one of my all time favorite bands. (I work in Radio)Of course, I didn't sleep with the lead singer as I had planned, but there will be other opportunities.

Remember, I don't usually update over the weekends. If I get some radical reviews, I might be persuaded, though. lol.

Nico

Erik barely ever slept. Even now, as he watched the woman sleeping comfortably in his arms, sleep eluded him.

Although he surmised that he would have been unable to sleep at the moment even if he didn't already have a tendency towards insomnia.

Their physical intimacy had gone no further than feverish kisses…but in the hours before Christine finally succumbed to her exhaustion when they had lay next to each other, quietly memorizing each other's features, the roots of their connection had twisted and morphed into a relationship that fell just slightly short of trusting.

For several moments after Christine had kissed him, Erik had been too overwhelmed to do anything but cling to her with silent desperation. He had closed his eyes, reveling in her warmth, her scent.

Slowly, he had pulled back, guiltily tracing the outline of the injury to her cheek. Forgivingly, Christine placed her hand over his, smiling at him.

"I should bring you back," he had said softly, straightening his back. "They will return to your chambers to check on you."

"I am a grown woman, Erik," Christine informed him. "Where I go is my business and my business alone."

Erik glanced down at her, his heart surging at the statement.

"However, I will ask one thing of you," she had continued. Erik cocked an eyebrow.

"Anything," he replied earnestly.

She had looked up at him, her eyes smiling. "I fear I'm about to faint from exhaustion," she said, a laugh tinting her voice. "Would it be possible to retire somewhere a bit…" she rubbed her thin arms, "…warmer?"

Guilt had immediately washed over him once more. Of course she would be uncomfortable! Not only was his home damp and cold, but she was wearing nothing more than his cape and a nightgown…and after her…accident…earlier in the day…

He had been angry with himself for being so thoughtless.

Silently, he motioned for her hand, which she took without a moment's hesitation. He led her slowly back towards his velvet ensconced bedroom.

She had raised her eyebrow at him.

"There is nothing…improper…about this, Christine," he had told her. "You may not have noticed, but this is the only area down here that features something you truly need."

Christine placed her hands on her hips.

"The blankets," Erik had clarified, gesturing to the soft black and red silks of his bed. "For your warmth."

Just before she had fallen asleep, Christine had looked up at Erik through sleepy eyes, lightly tracing the outline of his mask. "Erik," she had whispered. "May I tell you something?"

"Yes," Erik whispered back.

She had moved slightly, in a gesture that may be interpreted as cuddling, and let her eyes slide closed. Just when Erik was sure she had fallen asleep before telling him what she wanted, she spoke.

"I feel safe here with you."

She had fallen asleep before he had a chance to reply.

Not that he could have spoken anyhow.

And now, as he lay rigidly beside her, determined not to wake her, he could barely control the fire that was now threatening to shoot from his fingertips, eyelashes and toes.

Erik had woken her just as the first dusty rays of sun were sweeping across the streets of Paris.

Of course, in the lair, the same staunch darkness that always existed still enveloped them.

Wordlessly, the pair had walked back up the spiraling stairwells and dripping hallways to the elusive mirror that separated Erik from the outside world.

She turned to him just before walking into her room, smiling gently at him.

"Will I see you again?" She whispered.

Erik took her hand in his, raising it to his lips. He looked up at her, his eyes golden flames. "Even death could not keep me from you."

Christine smiled sadly. She had heard such promises before. Her father had said something eerily similar just before he died.

Yet Christine had never seen him again.

She moved in towards Erik, tilting her face to his. The purple bruise had finally stopped swelling, pooling in dark streaks about her cheek, eye and forehead. Erik paused to kiss the injury before letting his lips rest upon hers.

Then, just as elegantly, he was heading back down the hallway to his lair, his silken cape flaring behind him.

It was only ten minutes later that Christine heard a powerful, decidedly happier piano ballad begin to course up through the vents of the Paris Opera House.

Upon hearing of Christine's amazing vocal gift, Carlotta had abandoned her role in Hannibal. Christine had watched from backstage as she argued dramatically with the Managers just after they informed her that Christine would be performing the main aria in the performance.

"You prefer that little…nothing…to me?" Carlotta had shrieked. "I am the reason this place manages to be so successful…you ruin me…you ruin yourselves!"

And then, in a flurry of handmaids, barking poodles and perfume, she was gone.

Raoul had been quick to offer a suggestion. Christine watched as he approached the managers, his face smiling.

"If La Carlotta wishes to leave the Opera Populaire, then so be it," he said, loudly enough for everyone in the auditorium to hear. Then, he turned to face Christine, who backed up slightly at the glance. "It doesn't matter, for we have discovered a new talent that will quickly bury any memory of that awful woman."

He gestured for Christine to join him on stage.

She obliged, feeling uncomfortable under the judgmental stares of the ballerinas she had studied with for so long.

"I now re-introduce you all to Miss Christine Daae," Raoul said grandly. "The woman with the voice of an angel."

She raised her eyes to his briefly, trying to ignore the flicker of heat she found there.

A smattering of jealous applause resounded through the theater.

"And to celebrate this refreshing change to the production of Hannibal," Raoul continued, "I'm pleased to announce that we will be holding a Masquerade …this Friday night!"

Hushed gasps and excited whispering immediately flooded Christine's ears as ballerinas, actors, singers and orchestra members buzzed with anticipation.

It had been some time since a ball was held at the Opera Populaire.

"Raoul," Christine whispered. "Is all of this really necessary?"

"Of course, Angel!" He replied, placing her hand delicately on his arm as he led her away from the stimulus of the crowd. "What better way to celebrate your success?"

"You don't think it's a little premature?" Christine pressed. "I've only just sung before an audience for the first time…who is to say that I will be a success at all."

"Little Lotte," Raoul said affectionately. "You worry too much. When Paris hears your voice, they will fall in love with you. Much like I already ha…"

He stopped short.

Christine's blood ran momentarily icy.

Raoul cleared his throat. "Yes, well. They will love you."

Much later, as Christine lay in bed, silently praying for Erik to appear, a plan began to formulate.

A Masquerade…

That meant everyone in attendance would have his or her face covered by a mask…

It seemed an appropriate venue for someone who had no choice in the matter of masks.