Chapter 21: Plans, Plots, and Memories

A/N Don't own POTO…Leroux, ALW, and Kay do…blahblahblah.

Anywho: "Why so silent good messieurs?" sorry, watching the movie now. I am in need of a beta. Anyone care to do so for me? I would be your obedient servant! Sometimes, I find myself making stupid plot mistakes, so I need someone to help me with that. I am SO SORRY for not writing an update sooner. I've been thinking long and hard on the plot, I've just had a hard time deciding where I want it to go. So, I've finally figured it out (I think…)

Erik woke from a peaceful sleep, wishing only to be able to fall back into his state of dream. Throughout the night, his mind had showed him a wonderful picture show of him and Christine, and an unbreakable romance.

The best part is; it wasn't just a dream.

As he lay half awake, he felt a sense of content that he hadn't experienced in a long time, if ever. Immediately, he jolted upward as he felt something move beside him. His heart was racing as he looked over to find… a sleeping angel. He let out a sigh as the pounding in his chest subsided, and he sunk back into the crimson sheets. Christine was here; in his bed; lying next to him. He smiled at the thought as he enclosed his arms around her, savoring the feel of his skin touching hers. He spent many minutes just staring at her; studying the way she would move in her sleep ever so slightly, watching the rise and fall of her chest, drinking in her scent…

Her eyelids fluttered, and then opened to reveal two brown orbs, clouded with sleep. He whispered into her ear "Good morning, mon ange." She turned around sleepily, in an attempt to face the owner of the entrancing voice before whispering, "Erik?" Her eyes were shut again. "Yes." He replied, "Who else were you expecting?" Her eyelids flashed open at the confirmation, her face flushing to a shade of pink. "Erik! Oh…I don't know what came over me…I'll just…" She made an attempt to get out of the bed, but in vain. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, silencing her attempts of an explanation. "It has been my honor, mademoiselle." She let out a sigh and rested her head on his chest, placing tiny kisses where his shirt was partially unbuttoned. His strong arms engulfed her, leaving her to drift in and out of sleep with a surge of euphoria coursing through her veins.

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Philippe couldn't seem to remember the last time he had consumed such an obscene amount of alcohol. He had already emptied his small supply and sent his servants to town to get more. At the rare moments when he was sober enough to think straight, all he could think of was Christine Daae, and how she had murdered his only brother. He must get his revenge. He finally gave up his habit of taking in dangerous amounts of alcohol, and devoted all of his time to scheming up a way to ruin both Mlle. Daae's and the Monster's lives. He knew she was living with him -most likely as a mistress- somewhere. Could they really be that foolish to obtain residence under the Opera once more?

Well, they were foolish enough to kill an aristocrat…

With more speed than he had known humanly possible, he hurried out of the de Changy estate and into his personal carriage, ordering the driver to the Garnier Opera.

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After Christine had -reluctantly- removed herself from the swan bed, Erik rose and walked over to his project where he hoped to make much progress. Sitting down at the desk which normally contained his stationary, he picked up the violin and began replacing the old strings.

Christine spent most of the day reading, or watching her fiancée work. It seemed each time she glanced over, a day's worth of progress would be done in about a half hour. She was amazed at his determination to finish. Only once that day had he removed himself from the violin, taking a quick break, and then returning to the jumble of strings and wood.

She sighed contentedly and walked over to one of the caverns, which served as a small library. For a recluse, Erik had quite a collection of literature. Many of them were in foreign languages she didn't understand, as she only spoke French and Swedish fluently. Although she had grown up in France, her father had insisted she learn Swedish, in case they were to ever visit her relatives in Sweden. She hadn't heard that beautiful language since her father had passed away. His final words were, "när JAG er i himmel , barnen , Jag vill sända du ängeln av Musik." When I am in heaven, child, I will send you the Angel of Music. She wiped a tear from her eye as she continued to gaze upon the vast collection. She recognized most of the books to be in English. Perhaps, one day, Erik could teach her English, and she could be able to read one of these books. There was so just much he could teach her; show her…

So, whatdya guys think? Please R&R! I don't even care if you flame me; I am open to everything! Oh, and do think about a role as my beta…Anyone who reviews gets a free English/Swedish dictionary, like the one I used for this story ;D and one of the violin string Erik is using to fix the violin holds up one of the strings

ERIK: grabs string out of hands give me that! How do you expect me to work without supplies? storms off

Correction: You just get the dictionary.