A/N: Whew! I was up until one in the morning last night trying to wrap this up, but no such luck. Forgive the slight cheesiness of this first little part… LOL… it's VERY cheesy, but you guys said you like fluff, so…
Disclaimer: My pay for this story comes in the form of reviews (HINT, HINT!) and writing experience. Not making a blasted cent of this story, and I own absolutely nothing. Except Erik. And Raoul. Sorry, girls; they're mine. You can't have them! ;) That's how this story SHOULD end: Nade gets them both and Christine can go off and marry some random fan guy who thinks she's hot. LOL!
She held out the last note, allowing it to waver elegantly before swallowing the sound as I had explicitly instructed. I played the last few chords on the organ out of habit while Christine waited patiently for the usual onslaught of constructive criticism. My deep affection for her did not, by any means, alter the severity of her instruction— quite the opposite, really. I knew her full potential better than even she did, and never hesitated to tell her when she was not reaching it. And in return, Christine accepted the feedback graciously, taking each denigration and compliment to stride.
She swallowed hard in anticipation as I turned very slowly on my organ bench to look at her directly. Her eyes swam with uncertainty and disappointment at my unfaltering stare.
"Was I truly that horrible?" she asked quietly.
I sighed, breaking eye contact to stare at my lap. "My dear," I began slowly, "That was, without a doubt, the best performance you've ever given." Gradually I brought my eyes up to meet hers again. "Your pitch was perfect, your voice smooth, your breathing regulated, exactly as I asked of you." Her features lifted in an incredulous smile. I returned the expression gently, then turned back to my organ. "You are, without a doubt, the best singer I've ever heard, Christine Daaé, and I have lived in this Opera House for many years." I closed my eyes, tilting my head back slightly as music poured from my fingertips. "I do not tell you often enough, but I am honored to be your teacher."
Her fingers came to rest softly on my shoulder. "And I am honored to be your pupil, mon ange." Suddenly, I felt something warm and gentle and moist brush my left cheek. My heart missed a beat, and a wave of warm energy coursed through my body. Had she just…?
I turned to look at her, my mouth hanging open in disbelief, but Christine had turned away from me to face the water. "I should go," she said without looking at me. "Madame Giry will have my head if I miss another rehearsal."
My mouth opened and closed wordlessly a few times before I gathered the strength to form a comprehensible sentence. "O-Of course." Somehow, I managed to close my mouth and organize my trembling muscles enough to propel myself to my feet. I swung my cloak over my shoulders with a practiced twirl and followed Christine to the boat. We traveled in a silence that lingered somewhere between awkward and understanding, neither of us attempting to make eye contact. I studied the ripples that my oar created in the murky water, my mind wandering over the plans for that night. A small smile played at the corners of my lips as I pictured La Carlotta, her face going pale in horror as the audience burst into laughter…
My musings were cut short as the boat hit the opposite shore. Christine climbed gracefully onto the cement platform, suddenly very interested in the seam of her dress. She fingered it gently, looking up at me for a fleeting moment before turning to walk up the incline.
"Goodbye," she said breathlessly over her shoulder. "Thank you for the lesson…"
"Christine!" I called desperately. She turned quickly to look at me, her eyes flickering with an unidentifiable emotion as they locked with mine. Again, I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water. Really, I had nothing to say to her, but watching her retreating back had suddenly filled me with an inexplicable sense of dread. I stared at her in confusion for a moment, and her expression began to mirror mine.
"Yes?"
"I-" I swallowed. "Wanted to wish you luck. Remember, you shall be the star tonight. Do not worry about Carlotta or the managers." I began to break out in a cold sweat. There! That had been a good response! Christine smiled weakly, her head dipping in a quick nod.
"Thank you." If she had purposely avoided my gaze before, now it seemed as if she could not tear it away. She began to ascend the slope, still watching me intently over her shoulder. Her lips curled and relaxed several times in a faint smile before she turned the corner and ducked out of sight.
The moment she did so, I collapsed against the stone wall behind me, bashing the back of my skull against it several times while clutching my brow in humiliation. Somehow, Christine always managed to turn my mind into mush; I was intoxicated and addicted to her, yet had the maddening instinct to recoil whenever she drew near. I was in far over my head, flailing desperately in those last moments of struggle before going down for good.
A sigh, heavy with sorrow and disgrace, heaved in my chest and escaped in a deep gust of air. I closed my eyes, rubbing my hand over my face.
"Brilliant," I muttered. "Just brilliant."
"Get a hold of yourself, man," a female voice, tinged with amusement, said as a cold hand gripped my arm firmly. On impulse, I snatched the woman's wrist and slammed it up against the wall. The Punjab was in my hand a moment later, but as I moved to slip it over my prisoner's head, a sharp "Erik!" snapped me back to my senses.
Madame Giry's cold blue eyes stared irritably up at me through the darkness. I released my crushing grip on her hand, retreating a few steps in shock.
"What are you doing down here?" I demanded furiously, pacing in front of her, my eyes boring into hers. "I told you never to—"
Giry rubbed her wrist, glaring tetchily at me behind her furrowed brow. "Temper, temper, Monsieur Opera Ghost!" She sighed. "I assumed you had more commands for me concerning the performance tonight." Her tone was bitterly sardonic, much more than should have been allotted for my little outburst. Something else was bothering her.
"I would have searched you out," I growled. "I don't want you wandering down here of your own accord… someone could have followed you."
"But they couldn't follow Miss Daaé, I suppose?" she demanded, her temper rising.
"That's none of your concern," I snapped. For a moment, we simply glared at one another, neither willing to back down. It was Giry who finally averted her gaze, her fingers flexing in a sort of nervous twitch as she, too, began to pace the small area between myself and the wall like a caged predator.
I sighed deeply, attempting to alleviate my gaze a bit. "Why are you really here, Céline?" I asked as gently as my tense vocal chords would allow.
Her eyes snapped to mine momentarily before returning to her hands. She stopped pacing, standing perfectly still and stiff as she explained. "Christine is like a daughter to me, Erik," she said quietly. A sigh escaped her lips as her voice rose with desperation. "And I know we promised to stay out of one another's private affairs, but I worry about your intentions with her."
"My intentions?"
Her frown deepened. "I'm aware that she is a beautiful young woman, Erik. I am not blind. And lately, I believe…" She hesitated, wetting her lips. "I believe that both of you have come to view each other as more than just teacher and pupil… more than just friends…"
I took a step closer to her. "What are you suggesting, Madame?"
Her eyes darted quickly to mine, and hardened stubbornly. "All of the implications are there, Erik. You returned her this morning clad in little more than a corset. What am I supposed to believe?"
"How dare you?" I growled, moving my face close to hers in what I hoped to be an intimidating gesture. "The nerve of you, to burst down into my home and accuse me of-"
"Do you love her?" she challenged unflinchingly. I faltered, taking a step back as a surge of immensely powerful, equally adamant emotions washed over me. For the umpteenth time that afternoon, I searched unsuccessfully for words. Giry nodded, lowering her eyes almost sadly. "I was afraid this might happen," she whispered.
"We haven't done anything!" I managed finally. Remarkably, with one simple question she had demoted me from the dominant aggressor to the status and tone of a school boy explaining to his teacher why he did not have the previous night's assignment.
"I'm glad to hear it," she said curtly. Her eyes affirmed what she said; they lost some of their hard edge, and took on an almost sympathetic stance. Almost. She tilted her chin slightly, her eyebrows arched as she sighed through her nose. "So. What are your instructions for tonight? I'm sure you have an intricate plan of some sort…"
Despite my very best efforts, a smile tugged at my lips, and I shook my head. "You're not very good at changing the subject, Madame."
She shrugged, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement. "I never claimed to be."
We sighed simultaneously, then laughed softly. I placed my hand on her arm. "I didn't mean to frighten you. Is your wrist alright?" She shrugged again, all anger gone from her gaze, though her defensive posture did not change.
"It hurts enough to be worth another box of those imported chocolates," she hinted. "Meg loves them."
My smile widened. "As you wish. However, if that irksome vicomte takes my box again…"
"You'll leave it in the morning," she finished. "Now what is it you need me to do tonight?"
I ran my fingers through my hair pensively. "The third right wing must be empty during the end of the first act. Find a distraction of some sort."
She nodded. "Anything else?"
I thought for a moment. "Well, if you could talk the managers into casting her from the beginning as you did with Hannibal, we could avoid this whole mess…"
Giry shook her head. "I've tried. They won't be swayed. And remember, I can only side with you so many times before they become suspicious…" I nodded my understanding with an exasperated sigh, and turned back to my boat.
"They bring this upon themselves," I said coldly, picking up the pole.
Madame Giry's eyes followed me as I began to paddle away. "What exactly is it you're planning, Monsieur Opera Ghost?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.
I turned over my shoulder to smile mischievously at her. "A disaster beyond their imaginations," I reiterated.
She shook her head, tossing her thick, gray-streaked braid over her shoulder with a mocking chuckle. "For a creative genius, you are understatedly a creature of habit, Monsieur Erik. One of these days you'll need to think up new threats; the 'disaster beyond your imagination' line grows tiring after awhile."
My laughter followed her up the hidden stairwell, echoing off the coldly familiar stone walls of my vast domain. As I reached my home once again, I stared around the large, empty cavern, viewing it as I never had before. It was so cold… so dark, and horribly lonely without Christine…
Do you love her?
I shuddered, squeezing my eyes shut. Slowly, I lowered myself onto my organ bench, removed my mask, and sweet, unearthly music began to fill the emptiness of my aching soul.
"Yes," I finally whispered to no one. And in the mirror, I watched as tears of joy and relief flooded a smiling monster's eyes.
A/N: -gets ready to pound stupid e-mail- Wow! Reviews! Have I mentioned that I love you guys? Cause I do; I really, REALLY do… and I didn't receive notices of about half of these reviews, so when I went to go look them up to respond, I was floored. Thank you so much! –big hugs-
NEW READERS! -waves ecstatically- Hiya! So here's the deal; I started responding to you lovely people because the theory is you'll keep reviewing:)
Inkie pinkie: Well, I sorta tied in a line about that… I actually haven't seen the stage performance -dodges flying objects from purists- but I'd VERY much like to.
Hriviel: Yes, they will get a nasty little surprise in the next chappie. Lol. Thanks; I thought it would be sweet to add in a little E/C fluff to lighten up the mood; it started to get a bit angsty towards the end. Glad you liked it. :)
Pickledishkiller: LOL, yes he does. Don't mess with Chrissy, dudes! She's got friends in high places -glances up at rafters-
Sakume: Have I mentioned that I adore you? -hugs and cookies- I can't stop smiling or blushing. Thank you so much!
GreenGirl13: A new reviewer! Hi! Thank you; I'm very glad you like it. Never seen another Erik POV fic? Look around a bit, and you'll find them. Some are much better than this humble little piece, might I add. ;)
BlazeoftheInferno: Another new reviewer! Wow! I'm so spoiled. ;) Thank you so much—that was probably the most detailed review yet, style-analysis-wise. I'm truly flattered. Cookie?
Omega Devin: ANOTHER new reviewer? -faints- I'm… stunned… Thank you! That was the point of the short fluffy section; don't we all love that warm, fuzzy feeling? Glad my writing could evoke the right emotions. :) As for what will happen later on... –shudders-
Venus725: -appreciates you logging in for me very much- I'm very glad you like my Erik characterization; I was very hesitant to start this story, as I'm a female, so naturally I write from the female perspective best. This is my first story of any fandom writing from a male's point of view, let alone someone like ERIK, so I'm very glad it's being received well.
Orphelia-Rose: -stares blankly in absolute shock- This… can't be happening! SO MANY NEW REVIEWERS! I resist offering you cyber hugs merely to keep you from running away screaming… LOL. Yes, I'm adding a whole bunch of little chapters in between to try and give Erik and Christine some happy, fluffy moments before all the angst and tragedy begin. -sighs- Poor them!
Thank you again, ALL OF YOU, for reviewing! I'll update as soon as I finish that pesky English essay… -sigh-