A/N Thank you to The Whisper (I will definitely be using Erik's POV for later chapters) and to Gerry's Girl (I'm glad you like the story, thank you!). I hope you all like this one! As one last detail, I have switched to the English spelling of Eric's name from this chapter on.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera (darn!)

A New Understanding

Monday morning the corps de ballet resumed its normal rehearsal schedule. For this week, they would be doing their combinations and learning the dances for Il Muto. I had thought that it would be fascinating to watch a dance come together, but in reality it was quite dull. I found my mind wandering more than it had even during my first morning playing for them. At least I liked the music of Il Muto better than that of Hannibal.

It was hard for me to believe I had been at the theater for only five days. Part of this was because of the open dispositions of the girls I worked with (I felt I already knew many of them very well). The other reason I felt I had been there longer than I had was simply because so much had happened.

I was glad my days had been full, but I had to admit that my favorite times at the opera were those I spent with Erik. I hoped that because he allowed Hannibal to close without incident, he would follow my advice for Il Muto as well. "Not likely," I thought wryly. As much as I liked Erik, I had to admit that he was arrogant, stubborn, and seemed to have some unresolved emotional issues. I sometimes wondered why I liked him so much after so short an acquaintance, when it was obvious he had so many problems, the least of which was a tendency to criminal activities. I think I liked him in part because of his problems. They made him more interesting to me. I knew this was not a particularly healthy way to approach a friendship, but I could not help it.

Finally, after what seemed like years, the rehearsal was over. I was determined to go and talk to Erik before dinner. After what I overheard last night about the note he sent to de Chagny, I was determined to let him know what I thought about his method of courting. I know this makes me sound like an impossibly annoying, nosey woman, but please understand that I could not understand why Erik chose to do things in such an overdramatic, lunatic, and sometimes criminal way. It seemed to me that if he would just approach things in the ordinary human way he would increase his happiness tenfold. And I was finding more and more that his happiness mattered a great deal to me.

It seemed that because I desperately wanted to be gone, the gods were conspiring to detain me. First, I was held up by Jammes who wanted to invite me to a little party she and some of the other girls were planning on having in one of the empty workshops. She kept her voice low as she told me about it, and she could not repress the glimmer in her eye. I supposed it was not the sort of party of which Mme. Giry would approve. I rather wondered at her inviting me to it.

Next, it was Meg who wanted to show me some fabric she had found. She wanted my opinion on how she should have it styled. Again I wondered at her asking me. I was rather proud of my own cloths, and felt I had decent taste, but she seemed to single me out so particularly. I decided I would simply be flattered, and made arrangements to meet her in the dormitory in five minutes. It would further delay me, but I had no ready excuse as to why I could not go.

Then Mme. Giry stopped me to tell me that she knew all about the party Jammes and the others were having. She told me their sort of parties were not banned at the opera, so there was no reason I could not go if I wished, but that she did not think it would be to my liking. I assured her I had no intention of going. She then asked me to try to steer Meg towards a slightly more modest style of dress than some of the other girls wore. I told her I would do my best, and then she too left the room.

I put the music away, closed the piano, and then I also left. I gaped and felt as though my heart was pulled into my throat when a hand touched my shoulder as I emerged from the room.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's alright, Christine," for that was who it was, "I am not normally so jumpy."

"This place can do that to you!" I thought I detected a note of sadness in Christine's voice as she said this, and I wondered if her "angel" had anything to do with her poor spirits. "I wanted to talk to you, but I didn't want any of the others to hear."

I was intrigued, and I had wanted to talk to her in any case. "I am on my way up to meet Meg," I said, "would you walk with me?"

The younger girl nodded and we were off.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior these past few days," Christine began. "I can only imagine what you must think of me!"

"Christine…" I began, but the girl stopped me.

"No please Lucette, I need to assure myself you understand that I never meant to get you involved in…well…any of this!"

"Do you mean with…the Opera Ghost?" I had almost asked if she meant with Erik. I must be careful not to betray his name.

She nodded and continued. "I didn't mean to betray your secret, about the composition, I mean, especially after you kept mine so nicely; but that aria was so beautiful. It just stuck in my head. He heard me singing it that evening after I had left you. I really didn't intend to tell him, but he asked me directly if you had written it. I…I cannot lie to him. I feel as though he can see inside my soul!"

She sounded like she would become hystErikal in a moment. I wanted to calm her. "Christine, please, do not let it worry you another moment. There has been no harm done. I am just overjoyed that you were finally able to give the world a taste of your talent. Trust me, things might be unsettled right now, but you will be able to have a fantastic career. Only do not let yourself be so upset by this Opera Ghost. He cannot see inside your soul, and, if anything, it sounds as if he wishes to befriend you!" There, I felt I had done my duty as Erik's friend.

"I wish it were only that. Lucette, you must promise to be careful. I fear what he is capable of. Oh, I wish things could have stayed as they were!"

I was annoyed with her for wanting to think the worst of Erik. She seemed cowed by him. This was not good for either him or her. I felt sure that what he needed was to be treated normally. Perhaps then he could act normally. I was not sure what Christine needed. Maybe stability? She had been orphaned at a young age, and I knew firsthand how betrayed one could feel at the death of one's parents. She was but a child when she lost hers: I imagined the pain might be of a longer duration. As far as I could tell, Erik had been the only consistent male contact she had had since her father died. She probably felt somewhat betrayed by her "angel" as well.

We had come to the door of the dormitory, but we did not go in right away. "Christine," I said in a low tone, "we both know he is but a man. He wishes to help you. Why do you not simply tell him how you feel, take an active role in the governance of your career."

"I'm afraid."

"He would never hurt you, Christine."

"But he would others, and that I cannot allow."

Now I felt I understood her. This was about the Vicomte. She was not as dense as she made herself appear sometimes. She knew that Erik had other plans for her beyond that of merely his pupil, and she was falling in love with that pretty young man.

"I still think you should be honest with him, treat him with the same courtesy you would anyone else."

"I wish it were that easy, Lucette. But now I'm keeping you from Meg. Thank you for being so understanding!"

I decided that I would let the conversation drop, as she clearly wished it to. All I could think, however, was that for how long Christine had known Erik, she did not understand him at all. I realized that I did not understand him perfectly, either. There was yet some key facet to his character that I was missing. I felt I still did not understand his deepest motivation, and until I understood that, there was little I could do to help him.

After about fifteen minutes discussing fashion and fabric texture with Meg, I was on my way down to the piano room. Now that I knew what was in Christine's mind, I felt I would be better able to help Erik. I would not betray any of Christine's confidences, but I would try to advise Erik in light of them. It was clear that if he was ever to have a hope of capturing Christine's heart he would need to act soon, before her relationship with the Vicomte progressed any further.

I wondered at Christine. How could anyone prefer the bland good looks of a foppish lad to the exquisite, unique beauty of Erik? It seemed Christine could. There was just no accounting for taste I supposed.

I arrived at my destination, and once again found fresh candles lit.

"You know," I said, for I was certain he was there, "one day I will walk in and catch you lighting those candles, and then you will have to tell me how you get behind that wall or submit to a face to face conversation."

"If I thought that, my dear, you would have to light your own candles."

"I would not mind. It really is extremely chivalrous of you to light them for me, but I assure you I can light them myself."

"I am not so sure. I would hate to have my opera burned down."

I smiled. He was teasing back. I felt this was a step in the right direction.

"I believe I can safely say you are more likely to burn the place down than I!"

"I'm not so sure about that. I would venture a guess that you can be quite as volatile as I, if provoked." I believed there was a smile in his voice as he said this.

"Fortunately for you, having to light my own candles would not provoke me!"

"What would provoke you, Lucette?"

I paused. I believed it was a serious question, and I found I was not sure of the answer.

"I am somewhat difficult to really provoke. The behavior of some of the management of various opera houses I submitted my work to have provoked me."

"So you have tried to have your work preformed then?"

"Yes." My answer was purposely short. I did not like discussing my disappointments. It invariably either filled me with anger or self-doubt.

"What went wrong?"

Was he stupid? "What do you think went wrong?" I supposed people asking obvious questions also provoked me.

"This is the latter half of the nineteenth century, not the dark ages. Surly it was not because of your gender?"

"It was entirely because of my gender! You have heard some of my music, does it not sound worthy to you?" For some reason I was afraid of his reply. I knew he would be honest with me. If he told me that there really was some horrible flaw in my music, I am not sure what I would do. I was afraid I might start to cry, though, and that I could not tolerate. Not in his presence.

"What I have heard of you music has been celestial in quality. I have not often heard its equal."

I could breath freely again. It was not my ear alone that found my music superior to much of what was preformed today.

"Well, you are one of the few who will ever hear it. I have repeatedly tried to get at least one of my operas preformed, but I am always cornered into a meeting of some kind. The moment it is discovered that I am a woman, there are suddenly inexplicable reasons that my work cannot be preformed. I have often been tempted to sell my work to some struggling male composer, just for the sake of hearing it the way it should be."

"Do not do that!" Erik's voice held all the horrified emotion my mind did when I suggested such a thing.

"I know, it is rather like selling one's child into slavery hoping for the off chance that the one who buys him would treat him well. But Erik, you have no idea what it feels like to be constantly rejected because of something you have absolutely no control over! I would almost be happier if someone just said that they didn't like some section of the music, because at least then I could fix it! As it is their objection is to what I am, what I must be!"

There was no response from Erik. I supposed he thought I was being overdramatic. I wished I could make him understand. "I suppose it sounds rather silly to you, but it is quite painful to me."

"I understand exactly how you feel."

His voice was tight with some indefinable emotion that sent a chill down my back. He did know how I felt. I was sure of it; and somehow the knowledge that we carried the same kind of burden filled me with a fresh determination.

"Thank you," I said, "I normally find it somewhat offensive when a man tries to say that he understands the frustration, but I don't find it so in you."

"Lucette…"

"Yes?"

"I forgot what I was going to say."

I did not believe for a moment that he did, but I felt sure that when he wanted to tell me what was on his mind he would. I decided that the atmosphere of the room was far too heavy for my liking. I laughed and said, "In some of my more frustrated moments I think of trying to be like the Shakespearian heroines who dress as lads to make their way in a male dominated world."

"I cannot imagine you ever managing to look like a young man!"

I blushed at this reference. It was true, though, my figure and face were as far from masculine as they could get. For some reason the Vicomte's face flashed into my mind. Perhaps I could be taken for that sort of man.

"No it would be a task. And even if I a managed to fool the right people, I would be sentenced to live a masquerade."

"You would get used to it."

"As you have?"

"Yes, I have got used to the masquerade."

"But now it is keeping you from being what you really want to be."

"What do you mean by that?"

I thought now was as good a time as any to breach the subject I originally wanted to address. "Simply that you have masqueraded as the Phantom for so long, that, now when you wish to be simply Erik, Christine's suitor, you find you cannot."

"I have a far more necessary reason for masquerading than you have."

"And what is that reason?"

"Do plan to compose at all before dinner, Lucette? Or do you simply come here to make idle conversation?"

I was starting to grow accustomed to his abruptness so it did not bother me as it had at first. I could tell from his response that we would not be discussing Christine again tonight, or at least not before dinner. I decided to let it drop willingly for now.

"As a matter of fact I do mean to compose." I began reading through the notes I had made during the fifteen minute break at the morning's ballet rehearsal. "You know you have not kept your word."

"I beg your pardon?"

"In your note you said that you would not distract me, that I would not even know that you were here or something to that effect. Well, you have proven to be quite distracting. Before you huff off, however, I wanted to thank you for it. I greatly enjoy your company."

"And I yours, which is unusual for me. Now play."

I smiled as I began to play through the first measures of music I had written the night before last. Yes we had, indeed, come to a new level of understanding.