A/N: I'm sorry about the wait on this chapter. Personal matters have got in the way! If you could all keep my Fiancé in you thoughts and prayers I'd appreciate it. He lost his house and his job in Hurricane Katrina, and over the weekend he was hit by a drunk driver. His car is totaled and he has some serious back injuries. He now has literally nothing. Sorry, enough with depressing stuff!

Thanks to all you readers especially my reviewers:

The Whisper—I hope your computer is better! Erik is thick but I love him anyway! Don't feel too sorry for them…yet. Thank you as always!

nelygirl—I'm so glad you like the story. I'm trying hard to keep it realistic (well, as realistic as Phantom of the Opera can be;) Thanks for reading and reviewing!

theblackswan—I'm sorry about the end of the last chapter. I reread it and you're right, it does just kind of stop. I had trouble deciding where to leave off and misjudged where. I'll try not to do that again! Sorry for taking so long on this chapter and thanks for your help!

The Ball and Champagne

The month to the masquerade ball went quickly.

I had known it would be a few weeks, at least, until I heard from La Scala. I spent that time in the sheerly feminine bliss of pulling together a beautiful party ensemble. I was necessarily restricted by my funds, but there is no place on earth where it is easier to get a costume than in a Parisian opera house.

I managed to find a vivid blue-green lame dress in one of the costume store rooms. I easily got permission to borrow it for the evening. Because I did not spend anything on the dress itself, I put all the money I had set aside for a costume into an array of paste jewels and a stunning peacock feather mask. What I was most proud of, however, was the peacock feather shawl that stunningly complemented the whole thing.

When I looked in the mirror before going down to the ball, I was pleased with my appearance. My dark blond hair was piled high with a few glossy curls tumbling down my back and one hanging over my shoulder. The green-blue of the dress made my eyes look an even fiercer green than they usually were. All in all, I felt I would not be ashamed in the presence of the wealthier members and patrons of the opera.

I had learned that I had Mme. Giry to thank for my invitation to the elegant affair in the grand foyer. Not all the employees were invited to that party. Apparently there was a more raucous, less glamorous party for the lesser employees in other parts of the opera house. The foyer was only for those invited by the management.

The wealthier members of Parisian society had purchased tickets to the masquerade as well, but they usually only watched the activity in foyer from the gallery above. Only the boldest of gentlemen would actually come down to mingle with the members of the opera, the others considered it beneath their dignity.

I was in no want of dance partners during the evening. I had made many friends at the opera: a good number of these friends were young men. Granted, none of them had been able to kindle even a fraction of what I felt for Erik, but I was not opposed to indulging in a little of the light flirtation that takes place on the dance floor. Especially as I knew all these young men were taking the whole thing as I was: a rather fun joke.

I was further inclined to these idle flirtations for the simple reason that they distracted my thoughts from other, more pressing matters: I had not yet heard from La Scala. I thought I would have had an acknowledgement that they received my score at least. No news had come. I began to be a little edgy as I waited for their appraisal of the score.

I had, of course, noticed Christine. She looked perfect in a pink and purple gown. Tonight she was playing the princess to the Vicomte's military prince. I had to admit, I was surprised that the Vicomte came to our part of the party. I was not sure how much credence I gave to his feelings for Christine, but the fact that he was here and so obviously did not care what society thought about it, made me think that perhaps his feelings were as innocent and sincere as hers.

I had developed a sort of anxious solicitousness for Christine. A part of me felt that it was unfortunate that Erik, in his attempts to help her, had done her reputation harm. It was because of this concern that I was glad to see that the Vicomte was as attentive and as gentle with Christine as he would have been with a society lady.

Another part of me wanted to knock Christine's head against a wall. I still could not understand how she could continually choose the Vicomte over Erik. I forced myself to remember all of Erik's bad qualities (he was a wanted criminal for heaven's sake!), but it did not change the fact that I thought him superior in every way to the Vicomte. I had no doubt which way I would choose. I gave myself a mental shake. I would never be so blessed as to have that kind of choice.

It was while I was dancing with Marc Louis, one of the male dancers, that a sudden hush fell on the assembly. Marc Louis was a gallant sort; he had been telling me that I danced a great deal better than many ballerinas. I knew this was rot: I was not a bad dancer, but I felt like a clumsy young colt when paired with this graceful young man. As the room grew quite, however, it was he that faltered. I looked up at his face to see what it was that ailed him, but he was not looking at me. His eyes were wide and fixed over my shoulder in the direction of the grand staircase. I turned and saw immediately what had quieted the room.

I closed my eyes in a sort of mortified disbelief. "Erik what are you doing?" was the constant thought going through my head. For, indeed, it was Erik that had silenced the assembly. His gaze swept over those present. His eyes lingered for a moment when they met mine, but then passed on coldly, clearly determined to ignore me.

Erik literally threw the score of his opera at the feet of the management, coldly confident they would do as he asked. He then went on the give certain members of the cast instructions to make them worthy of being in his opera.

I felt a rush of empathy as I watched him. In my heart of hearts I knew there were times I would have liked to do something similar. How easy it would be if I could simply toss my score to the opera management and give my orders concerning its production!

My empathy changed to envy as I watched Erik and Christine. They were gazing at each other with an intensity I knew I would never share with another, especially not Erik. It was in that moment I realized that Christine did love Erik, truly loved him. She might try to deceive herself, but the enraptured expression on her face as she looked at Erik could not be feigned. Erik was right: Christine did not know what true love is.

It was Erik who broke the moment, making it clear that he did not understand love either. "How could he understand it," I thought bitterly, "when he has never had any positive experience of it?"

Erik disappeared down a trap door in the foyer. The Vicomte followed him down before the hidden door could close. Everyone stared horrified for a moment, and then everyone started speaking at once.

I saw Mme. Giry say something to Christine, and then she too disappeared down a narrow service entrance to the foyer.

The party in the foyer ended earlier than it had in the history of the masquerade ball. The managers themselves had retired immediately after the incident. Carlotta and Piangi had also left. Christine had lingered next to Meg for a quarter of an hour after Mme. Giry had left and then she too went. I wondered at the calm she displayed at the disappearance of her lover, but I suspected that Mme. Giry had said something to her that put her mind at ease. I was once again brought to my original opinion that Mme. Giry knew far more about the Opera Ghost than she let on.

When I left the ball, I went back to my room and found I was not at all tired. I took my lantern and my box of matches, and went to the piano room.

I was surprised when I opened the door and found the candles lit. This had not happened since Erik and I had had our falling out.

"Erik?" I asked tentatively.

"Good Evening, Mlle. I thought you might leave the party early. I daresay a great many people are leaving early."

The man sounded insufferably pleased with himself. It irritated me.

"Yes," I said dryly, "you managed to accomplish the exact opposite of what your character did. Hardly impressive!"

"What do you mean, my dear?" He still sounded arrogant; although a little piqued that I was not impressed.

"The Red Death: quite clever and very imposing. It suites you, in fact; but you forget that Poe's Red Death haunts the Masquerade in such a manner that none leave again. Your haunting of the masquerade results in all leaving early. Although I'm sure that many of the local tavern owners will thank you for increasing their business tonight!"

"Touché Lucette!"

He laughed as he said this, and his laughter warmed me to such an extent that I found myself laughing with him. I think we both realized at the same moment how long it had been since we had laughed together for we both fell silent and reflective.

"I've missed you Erik." It was true, and it didn't seem that it would cause any harm to say it.

"And, I you. You look lovely tonight by the way."

He said this in a light, friendly manner, but it was enough to make me glow. I wondered again if he could see me through the wall. Yes, he was still behind that stupid wall. Even after meeting him on the roof top he would never just come into the room when I was present. It annoyed me that he would never pay me the tribute of looking at me when I was speaking to him, but then I suppose one should never expect Erik to behave quite like anyone else. I had wondered from time to time if he could see me through some sort of concealed viewer or something. It was this question that now came into my mind with force.

"Can you see me from back there? You always seem to make comments like you can, but I can never really be sure."

There was a pause before he answered.

"I can see you."

"How?"

"Didn't I tell you before about magicians and their tricks?"

"Yes, but it's not like you are giving away anything grave!"

"I protect most of my secrets closely, whether or not they are grave."

"I wonder you even talk to me then!" I said this as a joke and was rather surprised by his reply.

"I wonder at that too."

We were both silent after he said this, and the silence started to stretch to the uncomfortable. I did not know why my head was so clouded by his presence tonight. He had said I looked lovely. I knew he had only said it in the same way one might tell their sister she looks nice, but I was pleased by his complement all the same. And then there were the candles. I was ridiculously please that he had again lit the candles for me. My mind pounced on that thought to break the silence.

"What prompted you to light the candles again? Have I proven myself untrustworthy with a book of matches?" The lightness in my voice and manner, I hope, concealed the seriousness of the question. I hoped his return to gallantry signaled that our relationship was returning to what it had been.

"Ah yes, the candles!" He appeared to consider my question, and then continued, "I suppose I was just feeling a trifle jubilant. My opera is now on the path to success, my suit with Christine cannot fail when both she and I triumph, and, for once, I have someone to celebrate with. I decided to take full advantage of the opportunity. In fact, if you direct your attention to the table, you will see a bottle of Champagne. I have no doubt that it is infinitely superior to the imitation they were serving at the party."

I had been so distracted by seeing the candles that I had not noticed the bottle on the table. I walked to the table and considered what he had just said. The triumph in his voice could not be missed, and it grew as he spoke; whereas I was feeling more depressed at every word. I would not argue with him tonight, however. My own feelings and motivations needed to be more thoroughly examined before I could advise him as a friend. I needed to sort out how much of my unease was because I was worried about his methods and their affect on both him and Christine, and how much was my own envy not wanting him to pursue her. For right now I would let him know the joy of having someone to celebrate with.

"There is only one glass. I'll be right back with another."

"I have my own glass with me here thank you."

I had thought as much, but I would not let him get away with it. "Well bring it here and I'll pour."

"I have mine, my dear, please help yourself."

"Erik, I will not drink to a victory that is only yours when I cannot even see that you do the same! Please, join me. I hate having to talk to a wall, and having a celebratory draught of Champagne with one is even more depressing."

He was quiet and I prayed that he would just come. Things would be easier if he would finally surrender the role of Opera Ghost all together.

"Very well, if that is really the way you feel. Kindly face the door."

I turned and looked at the completely uninteresting door, all the while smiling at his childish desire to keep his secrets, even after they had been discovered. I knew there was some sort of trapped door in the ceiling. But he was humoring me, so I would humor him.

I did not hear a sound, but turned when he touched my shoulder. I looked at him a moment before I realized that he was offering me a glass. I took it with a simple thank you. I was too involved in looking at him to say much else. He really was perfect. I decided that I would not let Christine intrude on this time. He loved her, not me, that was all there was to it. But right now he was with me, not her. I would just enjoy my friendship with him.

I finally collected myself and raised my glass. "To success, may it not be more trouble than it's worth."

Erik laughed at this even though I was serious. He gently touched my glass with his and we both took a sip. My eyebrows shot up in delight.

"This is much better than what they had at the party, and that wasn't bad!"

Erik laughed again, "I generally don't exaggerate. I'm glad you like it. I personally will drink no other kind."

"Erik, you are quite remarkable," I said as I realized that Erik could be the study of a lifetime.

"I will take that as a complement and say thank you my dear. Now, I take it that rather innocuous though very amusing toast was to my success; there must be one to yours. "May your opera be accepted with the same ease as mine. That will surely bring you success!"

I laughed, thinking about his rather unorthodox, but admittedly easy way of launching an opera into production: no contracts, no bargaining, no solicitations, just 'there it is, now do it!'

Erik looked at me as I laughed. He seemed to puzzle over something for a moment, then said, "We are quite a pair, Lucette."

"Indeed we are."

A thoughtful silence followed these remarks. After a few moments, however, he seemed to rouse himself and we were quite talkative for the better part of an hour. We simply sat on the piano bench and talked about things that did not matter, and it was wonderful.

Finally I rose to go. I realized the longer I spent in this sort of contact with Erik, the harder it would be for me to let him go when the time came. And I knew it would come. As surly as he would have to let Christine go, I would have to let him go.

He took my hand as I rose.

"Goodnight, Lucette."

I was about to reply when he raised my hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss there. My head spun. His lips felt so good, even just on the back of my hand. I wondered how they would feel elsewhere. I blushed at the turn my thoughts were taking. His lips were no longer touching my skin, but he did not let go of my hand. He was looking at me intently. I had to get out of her or risk saying something incredibly stupid.

"Goodnight, Erik," I said n a voice barely above a whisper.

He suddenly threw down my hand and walked to the other side of the room.

"Yes, goodnight. Do let me know when you hear from La Scala."

He was speaking rather quickly and not like his usual voice.

"I will, and Erik?"

He turned to look at me.

"Thank you," and with that I left.

As I went along the passage to my room the tears started to form in my eyes: letting go of Erik would not be easy at all.