Author's Note: First thank you to The Whisper for your kind review. I am glad you like the story! Second: I have tried something a little different with this chapter. I was originally determined to keep this story written solely from Lucette's perspective. It seemed, however, that getting a window to some of our beloved Phantoms thoughts and feelings would be helpful. I have a small section of this chapter written from his perspective. Please, please tell me what you think. If it seems that people like it I will employ this method in more places throughout the story; if not I won't do it again and just chalk this chapter up to experience. Thank you again to all my readers especially MoonLit-Night and The Whisper!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Phantom of the Opera

Choosing Battles

(Lucette's POV:)

I kept my resolve. As soon as the final curtain had come down I made straight for the piano room. It seemed the Phantom was expecting me for there were new candles burning in the holders, and as soon as I opened the door I was greeted with a violent barrage of complaints about the evening.

The Phantom attacked every aspect of Carlotta's performance (she largely deserved it), and then moved on to every other aspect imaginable, ending with an undeserved sneer at the costume department for the "ill-fitting rags" in which they had dressed the cast.

I had calmly taken a seat on the piano bench during his tirade, and when he was quite finished I pointed out that at least Piangi had made it to the top of the elephant tonight. It was a feat he had not accomplished up until to night. "And," I said, "it really does make him a more creditable Hannibal. I really almost believed he could take the thing over a mountain!"

The Phantom did not appear to appreciate my humor, for a sort of animalistic growl was all the reply my joke received.

"You know, you really should not make sounds like that. It is quite harmful to one's voice, as I am sure you are well aware!"

"Mlle. Sauvon, you can be quite annoying when you are not playing the piano!"

"You underestimate me; I can be quite annoying even while playing if I try."

"I shall try not to underestimate you then."

I could not be sure, but I was nearly certain there was the sound of a smile in his voice.

I would have liked to go on with this light conversation, but I realized that I did have a real purpose in speaking with him.

I decided to get straight to the point: "You sent the managers a note or two concerning Christine, didn't you?"

"Yes, and they have not followed my instructions!"

"I understood as much. Did you ever stop to consider that perhaps you are hindering, rather than helping, Christine's career by your interference?"

"I have created Christine's career!"

"You have trained her voice, and done a wonderful job, you even opened a position for her to show her talents to best advantage (mind you I do not approve the way you went about that, but I cannot condemn the results), but with your notes this morning you insured she did not play the role this evening."

There was silence, but whether from fury or from shock I could not tell.

It might have been reckless, but I went on.

"I thought someone should tell you how the notes were received so that you did not make the same mistake again."

"I made no mistake! Those fools must be made to take my orders."

"Well if you really cared about Christine you would choose some other battleground!"

"Christine is no battleground! I am simply going to make those tone-deaf fools recognize her talent!"

"Have enough faith in her talent to realize that she can make it on her own!"

"Mlle. Sauvon, I should think that you would know better than anybody that talent does not always guarantee success."

My color rose at his allusion to my continued failure. "Christine's situation is quite different from my own. There is no prejudice against female sopranos," I said with some bitterness.

"There are other attributes which would set Christine at a disadvantage; for one thing she is not very self-assertive."

"And she never will be as long as there are others fighting for her!"

"Why should she have to fight if there are others willing to do it for her? None of the bitterness of life should have to touch such as her!"

My heart felt strangely constricted at this statement. I knew we were now on dangerous ground. I spoke quietly when I did speak: "Look, I believe I understand how you feel for her, and there is no reason why you should not pursue your suit, continue to train her voice; do, in short, everything you have done up to this point, minus only the pressure you put on the management. They seem very hard-headed, and I know their kind. Christine was a rampant success last night. The managers will want it repeated; but only if they think it their idea. They are new here, and want to establish their authority: let them. It would be best for Christine."

"I know what is best for my pupil Mlle. Sauvon, and I will thank you to keep your nose out of it."

"I have spoken my mind, and will keep out of it now."

We were both silent for a moment, then I laughed, "Honestly, we sounded like squabbling parents! I hope we can still be friends?"

"I should like to consider you a friend Mlle. Sauvon, they are a rare commodity for a ghost."

"But not for a man: you forget that I do not believe in ghosts. I know you are flesh and blood standing behind the wall there." I rose as I said this, and touched the back wall.

"How did you know?" It was an empiric question. There was no wonder in his voice, but a certain resignation.

I smiled: it seemed the ghost was growing resigned to being nothing but a man in my presence.

"There is a slightly different modulation in your voice when it comes from here. It is hardly noticeable, for you are very good at throwing your voice. In fact it took me a few times hearing it to be sure that it was not just my imagination."

"I am impressed, Mlle. Sauvon, and not many impress the Opera Ghost. Even Mlle. Daae, with her delicately trained singer's ear, did not detect the difference."

"Well, I have the unfair advantage of not believing in ghosts, I was listening for a difference. How do you get back there any way? I imagine you have hollowed out the stones so that you do not sound muffled?"

There was a slight pause before he answered me.

"You must have heard the expression that a good magician never gives away his secrets? Well, since you know now that I am a magician and not a ghost, I am even less likely to give away my tricks than a real ghost would."

I laughed, "Fair enough!"

"You have a very lovely laugh Mlle. Sauvon. I do not hear people laugh often."

"Thank you, I suppose a ghost would not hear laughing often, unless it were of a hysterical sort. And you must call me Lucette, you know, if we are to be friends."

There was a pause before he acknowledged me with: "If you so desire." He spoke with more gentleness then I had ever heard in his voice, and as a consequence, he sounded more sinfully divine than ever before.

I was suddenly embarrassed in his company. I wanted to be gone and have some time to think rationally on my own. I stood. "I'll say good night then, Monsieur, it has been a long day!"

I walked towards the door in a rather hurried manner, simply wanting to be gone. I turned at the sound of his voice, though. He had called my first name. It was not fair that it sounded better coming from his mouth than from anyone else's. I hesitated in the doorway. "Yes?"

"You may call me Eric."

I stood for a moment, scarcely believing what I had heard. "Good night then, Eric," I finally said, but I knew he had already gone.

I had planned, on returning to my room, to give myself a stern talking to concerning keeping my wits about me and not setting myself up to be hurt by falling in love with a man who was unavailable on every possible level. Instead, all I could think of until I finally fell asleep was the way my name sounded on his lips, and the fact that I was to call him Eric.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

(Eric's POV:)

What the devil had I been thinking! It had been decades since anyone called me by that name. It was a hated title connected to a weak past. Somehow, I did not think it would be so bad coming from her. I could always change my mind latter: the use of my name was a privilege I could revoke at any time. For right now, though, I had other, more important matters to think about.

I had not been in jest when I told her she was annoying. She was so arrogantly sure that she knew what was best for my Christine. I was surprised that I let Lucette run on for as long as I had. I think I enjoyed being treated like a man, just a man. It was an experience I never really had. Fear, repulsion, disgust, awe, all these I was used to inspiring, but the sort of unimpressed goodwill with which Lucette treated me was quite new. I supposed I was jaded enough to enjoy it for the present, at least. That was what I most enjoyed about being a ghost. It gave me complete freedom to pick up and drop contacts at my own discretion without reference to anyone else.

For now I must make plans for my lovely one. Tomorrow evening would be the last performance of Hannibal, and I would allow Carlotta to play the role. I would be immobile for Il Muto, however. Christine would play the countess. I was not really capitulating with Hannibal, I said to myself, I was merely choosing my battles wisely.

The moment I thought of battles I was reminded of what Lucette said about choosing a battlefield other than Christine. I winced. I had to remind myself that I was not warring over her: I was fighting for her. I could tell a new front was opening in the shape of that wretched little Vicomte. Christine professed nothing but friendship for the lad, but I must be vigilant or risk losing everything.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

(Lucette's POV:)

The next day seemed to fly by in a flurry of activity. It was only closing night of Hannibal, but preparations were already underway for Il Muto. It was now common knowledge that Carlotta would have the lead and Christine would be silent. I sincerely hoped that Eric would let this go by. I felt sure that if he let things go as planned for this show, Christine's chances of rising in the company for future shows were very good.

Everything seemed to go well. The show closed without incident, and I thought that perhaps Eric had taken my advice after all. I felt a surge of happiness as I considered the possibility that my opinion might matter to him, but then I would call Christine's perfect face and voice to mind and realize that ultimately everything he did would be for her.

This fact was further proved in my mind based on an exchange I happened to overhear in all the bustle backstage after the show was over. I knew Eric loved Christine and only Christine, so I am not sure why I allowed what I overheard to affect me, but it did. I heard M. Andre talking to the Vicomte de Chagny. It seemed the Vicomte had received a letter from the ghost as well. In it, he was warned to stay away from Christine Daae. The Vicomte was determined to ignore it. M. Andre was encouraging him to do just that.

"He would," I thought bitterly, "anything to keep a patron interested!"

Like I said, this was a small incident. I should not have been hurt by it, but the fact that Eric was fighting for Christine in more ways than just her professional life, seemed to drive home to me the fact that he would never care for me.

I could not help but feel sorry for Eric. He was going about wooing Christine in the wrong way. Threatening every handsome young man who looked her way would not win him his love. He did not want me, but I could help him win the woman he wanted. This was a chance to prove my friendship. He had said I was nosey, and, indeed I was. But I could help him. I wanted to be a help to him.