Those reviews WERE rad!

I'm sorry I didn't update over the weekend...it's not that I don't want to...I just tend to be stuck in a recording studio sat and sun...so it's difficult to find the time to write!

In any event...enjoy!

Nico

"You would like me…to escort you…to a Masquerade?"

Erik stood with his arms clasped over his chest, staring at Christine with his always intense eyes.

Christine fiddled with the cloak she wore over her nightclothes. She let her fingers trace the mahogany piano she stood next to mindlessly.

She had blurted out the invitation over a particularly soft ballad Erik had been playing for her. At first, he hadn't been sure he had heard her correctly. But then, after she repeated her request in a timid, almost pleading tone, he was certain she had asked him to take her to the grand Masquerade being held in her honor.

"No one would even realize who you were," she said tentatively. "Everyone will be wearing a mask…even me!"

Erik sighed. In his wildest fantasies he had gallantly escorted a shimmering Christine on his arm through the streets of Paris, granting her every wish and whim in the sparkling lavishness of the city's grand life.

But now, when he stood on the brink of such a fantasy becoming reality, he was having serious doubts.

"I don't think I could manage, Christine," he said softly. "While I am not ignorant to the petty musing and social properness of the typical Parisian gala, I hardly think I fit the image of someone who would be comfortable at such an event."

Christine tsked her tongue, suddenly feeling as if she were coaxing a very young…and very clever…child from a hiding place.

"You can't stay down here forever, Erik," she said quietly.

She was met with a glare.

"I have done it for nearly my entire life," he replied. "The passage of one more meaningless soiree will mean nothing to me."

Christine's brows furrowed. "This is not just "another meaningless soiree," she said, her voice sounding hurt. "It is important to me…just as it is important to have the one person who made all of this possible by my side."

Erik snorted. "I've done nothing to forward your career, Christine," he told her. "It was your talent…your voice…it had nothing to do with me."

"You're wrong!" Christine exclaimed. "Before I came down here…before I met you…I had no reason to sing." She sounded bashful at the admittance. "You are the only reason I have been granted this amazing opportunity. Me…a lowly ballet rat…transformed into the star of Hannibal!"

Her voice was filled with excitement…even pride. Erik noticed that she seemed more confident…more alive. Under the diminishing bruise across her face was a pink flush to her skin…her eyes were glimmering with happiness.

And she believed it was he that brought her such happiness.

"Christine," he began softly.

"Please, Erik," Christine interrupted. "I need to have you there with me. You will be masked…we can even make up an entirely new persona for you…you can have a brand new identity!"

She stood before him, offering him things he only imagined possible in his dreams.

How could he possibly say no?

The next several days were filled with a flurry of extravagance Christine had only read about in novels.

The Masquerade would serve two purposes, according to the business-minded Raoul. As he organized invitation lists with Monsieur Firmin and Andre, he explained that not only would the lavish ball introduce Christine into polite society as a respectable member of the arts, but would solicit donations to the Opera Populaire from some of the most well-to-do members of Paris.

Raoul also insisted that preparations for the Masquerade begin immediately. He insisted that all of the cast members dress in extraordinary costumes…as if the Masquerade was a performance in and of itself.

"We must cater to high society's every decadent wish," he said, standing on stage as if giving the audience, comprised of every member of the Opera Populaire, a splendid monolouge. "Our costuming department has generously agreed to assist all of you in selecting costumes that suit the occasion. Please be on time…promptly at 8. And, of course, many of you have been given additional responsibilities this week…the ballroom is now ready to be decorated, and I will ask that the remainder of today be dedicated to creating an atmosphere that will be the talk of the city for months to come."

Applause erupted. Raoul De Changy, with his winsome smile and smooth, charming mannerisms, would always captivate any crowd he stood before. Even the Opera Populaire's managers seemed to be taken with him, rushing to his side on the stage, showering him with praise, marveling at his authority and offering their assistance in 'any way possible.'

Christine watched from the wings of the stage as the 'audience' slowly filtered out, giddy with excitement. She was impressed with Raoul…who, as a child, had been bumbling and awkward.

Suddenly, he caught her eye, holding up a hand to the managers, indicating he would return in a moment.

Subconsciously, Christine straightened her hair as he approached.

"You're doing a marvelous job as patron," she told him once he was in earshot. "Most of our other patrons never even bothered to be in attendance for a performance, much less throw a Masquerade."

Raoul smiled at the compliment. "I don't take on responsibilities that I don't intend to see through," he told her, kissing her hand politely. "Have you decided on a costume?" He asked. "As our star, it's important that you look positively ravishing." He shot her a mischievous look. "Not that it will be difficult for you."

Christine blushed, feeling slightly uncomfortable under the compliment. "Such things you say, Raoul."

He placed her arm in his and began to escort her from the stage. "There is something I wanted to ask you, Christine."

Her stomach tightened.

"It seems only fitting you be escorted to the ball," he began.

Her hands clenched.

She knew what was coming.

"I would like to formally offer my services," he said, bowing in a slightly humorous manner. "As your dedicated escort for the evening."

Christine stopped walking and turned to face him.

She forced a polite smile, although Madame Giry's words suddenly resurfaced in her mind.

Too many hearts stand to be broken…

Raoul was looking at her, his eyes smiling, his face hopeful.

"Oh, Raoul," Christine said softly. "While I do appreciate the offer, it seems I have already accepted the offer of another."

Raoul's face instantly fell. Yet, always the gentleman, he masked his disappointment with a tight smile. "Of course," he said, sounding utterly crushed. "How silly of me to assume you would not have already been asked."

Christine felt terrible as she watched her old friend adjust his cravat, as if it were suddenly choking him.

"Raoul, I'm sorry…truly," she began.

"Think nothing of it," Raoul interrupted. Then, he took her hand in his. "I suppose a dance will have to suffice."

He kissed the back of her hand and abruptly turned from her, heading back over to where several cast members now stood waiting with swatches of fabrics for Raoul to choose from to decorate the ballroom.

Christine leaned against the back wall of the stage, exhaling heavily.

How on earth was she going to explain Erik to Raoul?