Disclaimer- I do not own Phantom of the Opera or any associated characters/music. I also do not own the song "Queen of Hollywood". That belongs to The Corrs.
Note by the author- You said "Go Ahead!" So here I go.

Not So Innocent A Child

Erik

Carlotta was giving him a headache. Well, that was only to be expected except that now the damned managers were trying to console her.

He hated it when they did that.

"I vill not seeng dis song! Eet goes too 'igh! Eet does not flatter my voice!" The managers, Andre and Firmin, hastened to assure her that her voice was lovely no matter what the song was.

Erik stepped in as Carlotta swelled, about to indulge in a full-fledged tantrum. "Nor does your voice flatter it, Madame, but as I have no one else to play the lead, I shall be forced to put up with you. Do not make my job any more difficult! I did not come to work today to humor a spoiled brat"

And- wonder of wonders- she shut up. True, her face turned a rather unhealthy shade of red and she was gaping like a fish, but at least she was no longer shouting at the top of her screechy voice. Finally. Erik smiled coldly at her. "Thank you. Now, ladies, gentlemen. If we may continue?"

Two hours, three swearing stage hands, one shouting match and two indignant managers later, Erik called a halt. "Jean, you take that turn to early, Robert, Marco, you sing in unison with the rest of the chorus, do you understand? That was adequate. I'll see you all again tomorrow. Same time."

With sighs of relief, the cast and crew trailed out of the theatre. Nadir Khan made his way to Erik's side. "You know they were more than adequate, Erik."

"I'm perfectly aware of that, Nadir. I am also aware that to say so would give me nothing but swelled heads to work with. And one of those is enough."

"Madame Carlotta giving you problems?"

He growled. "Little Prima Donna. I'm going to strangle her one of these days."

Nadir chuckled at his expression. "I know several convenient ways to make her disappear. The police would never know"

"Would you, Nadir?" Erik asked hopefully, only half-joking.

Nadir laughed. "Yes, but you need her for your opera, Erik. I'm off to find a cafe. See you later."

Erik rubbed his temple. God, his head was pounding. He wondered whether he felt like eating out. A cafe. Coffee.

Caffeine.

A cafe suddenly sounded like a very good idea.

Christine

She walked into the cafe. "Morning, Lila." The matronly looking woman at the counter smiled. "Morning, Christine. Small crowd tonight"

Christine settled on the small platform and began to tune her guitar. "They'll be packed in here in a few hours, Lila."

Lila smiled at the petite singer, head bent in concentration upon her instrument. Her auburn hair glowed in the soft lighting, her white hands were a stark contrast to the golden wood. For a moment the girl almost smiled. Lila switched on the speakers that would allow the singer's voice to carry outside in the plaza. "They certainly will, Christine. They certainly will."

Erik

He strolled through the plaza in no particular hurry, hands in his pockets against the winter chill. Around him people laughed and hurried inside. Couples had taken a few benches, nursing their coffees and talking in low voices. Faces were flushed, voices raised in high good humor.

Christmas. Erik shook his head. It did the oddest things to people.

A wistful voice drifted from the speakers outside of a cafe. Erik turned, hardly daring to believe it. The guitar playing was skilled, but the voice drew him like a moth to the flame to the small, crowded cafe.

He made his way inside, taking a seat in the corner, raised, with a decent view of the singer.

More than a decent view. Erik stared.

It wasn't that she was particularly odd-looking. It wasn't even that she was exceptionally beautiful. It was the music, how she immersed herself in it, slim fingers lovingly stroking the strings. The rest of the room had been dimmed, the lighting was on her. She shone under it, auburn hair like a flaming sunset against her pale skin. Her eyes were dark, glowing like embers. The only word he could think to describe them was soulful. They were deeper than any he had ever seen. He could lose himself in the endless, wistful eyes and never surface again. Her beautiful voice floated through the cafe, stirring the occupants who sat spellbound. He didn't recognize the song. He didn't have to. When she sang it, he would remember it forever.

"But there was always something different

in the way she held a stare

And the pictures that she painted

Were of glamour and of flair

And her boyfriend though he loved her

Knew he couldn't quite fulfill

He could never meet her there..."

Erik closed his eyes, losing himself for a moment in the melody. He opened them again when he heard an approaching waitress.

"What would you like to drink, sir?"

"Coffee. Black." He replied, only half-listening to what she was asking. His eyes were on the girl, radiant in song. The waitress nodded and wove her way back through the crowd again.

"She's never gonna be like the one before

She read it in her stars that there's something more

No matter what it takes no

matter how she breaks

She'll be the Queen of Hollywood"

He was startled by the potential in that voice. It was already breathtaking, but what if it were further trained? All of the raw emotion channeled?

She could be... just what I've been looking for.

"Now her mother collects cut-outs

And the pictures make her smile

But if she saw behind the curtains

It could only make her cry

She's got hand prints on he body

Sad moonbeams in her eyes -

Not so innocent a child..."

When she was putting away her guitar and the customers were shuffling out of the door, he made his way over to her. "You sing beautifully, Miss-?"

"Daae." She supplied. She stood and tilted her head back to look at him. He was fully a head taller than her.

"Miss Daae, I'd like to offer you a job. My name is Erik Destler; I work at the Opera Populaire. With some training, you could-"

"No."

"What?" He was startled. Her dark eyes were serious, face set. Why is she...

"May I ask why you don't want to? Or do you plan on doing this forever?" He gestured around the cafe. "I'll be frank. You'll start at the bottom rung and have to work your way up, but the pay is good and we cover all insurance."

She gave him a measuring look. "Please." He said. Why am I begging her?

Because her voice could bring the whole of Britain to its knees. You can't let her go, Erik.

She studied him again, looking directly into his eyes. He wondered what she saw there. She crossed her arms, bit her lip. "All right. When do I start?"

He was elated, not that he'd let her see it. He wrote down the address and phone number and gave it to her, heart racing with eagerness to get back to his flat and compose. He had a number of ideas for songs that he could tailor to her voice...

Christine

She worried the paper with her fingers, watching the man leave the cafe, moving with an elegance she envied. She had wanted to refuse his offer, somehow she didn't think that Joseph would like her working in an Opera House. Than the man had mentioned the words 'pay' and 'insurance' and she thought that he would have little objection to either of those things.

It had been the "Please" that decided her though. She got the impression that the man- Erik Destler- didn't say it often. His voice had lowered, softened, his eyes, a startling shade of sky blue, had been intense and focused entirely on her. And somehow she couldn't refuse. And felt justified in her decision when she saw the azure eyes light up briefly, and the briefest hint of a smile touch his face.

She had wondered about the mask though. And, on reflection, decided not to ask. She had the idea that the strange white mask that covered the right side of his face was not something he talked about. Somehow it was even more imposing than his height or the deep, perfectly controlled angelic voice. He wore it almost like a crown. She wondered if that was all an act, an eccentricy or if it covered...

Don't be ridiculous, Christine. He wouldn't wear a half-mask if he were a criminal. He would have gotten plastic surgery or something.

The man was an enigma.

Love it? Hate it? Review and tell me what you think! Hugs and cookies to you all.

Lee