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When You're Looking At Me

Christine

She collapsed on the couch again, completely drained. Carlotta's talk prevented her from soaking the arm of the couch again, but inside she still felt hollow. Eight words echoed through her head. I do no think he believes you worthless.

Inside her, a painful hope began to bloom again. She tried to quell it, but the diva's words overpowered any small effort of hers. She remembered that night so clearly- so painfully clearly. His eyes had been like the vision of a summer sky at the end of a long and weary tunnel. She had touched him in the music, felt his soul brush hers. A touch that conveyed pain, solitude, long nights of forced apathy. A touch that burned against her, seared her chest with pity and empathy. A touch that brought tears to her eyes; a touch of sheer sorrow, the barest hope in darkness. A plea, a voice in the gloom that begged for someone to see the loneliness.

A reflection of her own soul. She had felt the same words echoed in her spirit. She, too, had voiced a plea in that song. And- Christine closed her eyes- he had answered.

And then daylight had come, and with it reality. The fantasies of the night unraveled. Solitude came back. There was no one to share the emptiness, no one to listen.

She closed her eyes, prayed for sleep to take her fast before she had to face Erik Destler again. And- mercifully- it did.

Erik

He stared at the ceiling, leaning his head back against the chair. He had thought that someone had heard him last night- his fears and his torment. He had thought that he heard two souls crying out to each other. Briefly, he had had comfort.

But it could not continue. He could not use her to alleviate his own pain. Never. He could not use that girl. Not after he had seen the fear in her eyes, heard her cry out in her sleep. Not after that night when he had held her while she passed through nightmares that struck her wordless.

She's still young. There's a chance for her to heal- someone waiting for her. There's a chance that- someday- she can be whole again.

But not with me.

He heard the door open. Nadir walked in, arms crossed. "What, no lecture about the courtesy of knocking?"

Then he started and stared as Erik turned to face him. His eyebrows raised. "Erik, you look like-"

"I am sorry I do not meet your standards for male beauty, Nadir." Erik said acidly. "And I don't find that particularly important at the moment. Why are you here?"

"To prevent you from making a fool of yourself. Again." He frowned at Erik's continued silence. "You did ask me for help, you know."

Erik buried his head in his hands and sighed. "I know, Nadir. And-"

Nadir looked at him expectantly. "Hell, Nadir, can you spare me your damn dignity?"

"You've certainly thrown your own away, haven't you?" Nadir let out a slow breath. "I never thought you'd come to me for social advice."

"There's no need to rub it in."

Nadir's lips twitched. "First of all, you shouldn't have sprung that on her. But, since you have, you have to fix it. We can't have our supporting actress become mute every time you two are in the same room."

Erik winced. "Indeed not."

"So," Nadir continued, "you need to talk with Ms. Daae. Preferably not at the Opera House, there are far too many people to overhear you there. Why don't you arrange to meet her during a break? Than you can talk this over."

"And... Erik, if you are serious about Ms. Daae, than I suggest that you give her some kind of overview of your past. You owe her that, if you want to have that kind of relationship with her." Nadir looked calmer now, with plans neatly laid out on the table. He hated, almost as much as Erik did, not to have complete control over a situation.

"As for now," Nadir paused. "I suggest that you get some sleep, Erik. You look half-dead." He rose, heading for the door.

Erik smiled slightly. That was about how he felt. "I shall. And, Nadir"

The man turned back to face him. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

Nadir smiled. "You had only to ask, Erik."

Christine

An incessant beeping woke her. She groaned, stirred. Her head pounded.

God, I feel awful. She set on the water to heat, washed her face. She looked marginally better than she had earlier that morning. That was to say- she didn't look like she'd been dragged through Hell by the hair. She applied the barest touches of make-up, light enough to look natural, bright enough to hide any telltale signs. She gave up on making her hair manageable, if it looked rather messy, well, that was the current vogue. She dressed with care, somehow it was important to look presentable when she saw Erik again. The thought of facing him today, appearing less than her best, made her cringe.

She listened politely to Andy's chatter, making the appropriate responses when he fell silent. He didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, but then again, he was regaling her with obvious pride over a friend's recent fortune in the scrap metal business. It stirred her from her depression at least, pretending to be delighted as well.

The darkness descended once again as she crossed the threshold. She made her way to the room where she stored her things with Meg.

Speak of the devil. Meg was waiting for her, looking expectant.

"Did Nadir send you to give me a pep talk as well?"

The blonde shrugged. "He didn't need to. I told him I would as soon as I heard what happened."

"Does the whole theatre know about this, then?" Christine asked in exasperation.

"No, merely us privileged few." Meg answered solemnly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I already got the talk from Carlotta, but by all means, regale me with your experiences."

"Well." Meg looked at her with a mixture of pity and irony. "I never had a relationship with an employer. But I have dealt with equally idiotic men."

Christine straightened indignantly. "He is not-"

"Well, not idiotic, per se," Meg amended. "Just- hmm. Prone to disastrous mistakes? Anyway," she continued. "Knowing Erik, he's concocted some idea about how he's used you and doesn't want you to get hurt, become dependent on him, etc. He's sweet that way. Thick, but sweet."

Christine sighed into her hands. "You just about quoted him."

Meg's face softened. "Christine, it's not because you're in any way inadequate. Erik is only trying to protect you- and himself. I think he's just as afraid of this as you are. I can't even remember hearing about a woman in his life. He always said that music was the only love in his life. Brilliant as he is, I don't think Erik has much experience with a situation like this, Christine. So you'll have to expect a few mistakes on his part- and believe me, he will make them- and you'll have to forgive him that." Meg inhaled deeply. "I think you and he need to have a talk. Try and see if you can do it during the lunch break, hmm?"

Nadir cornered her after Meg left. "Erik told me what happened. Christine, have you-"

Christine's patience was becoming frayed. "Yes, I am going to talk to him, Nadir. You needn't lecture me."

Nadir raised his eyebrows. "Actually, I was going to ask if you had met Janet yet."

"Oh." Christine flushed. "Oh, I'm sorry, Nadir. I shouldn't have snapped at you. It's just... who's Janet?" she asked, trying to get away from her rude retort.

"The understudy of the actress that you're filling in for. All I can say is- be on your guard."

Christine sighed. "Thank you, Nadir. I'll keep that in mind." Could I have one simple day in this place. Just one uncomplicated day, just one

Somehow, she doubted it.

She was relieved with how well her scenes went during rehearsal. Carlotta seemed to have some unspoken understanding with the cast and crew that they would be friendly with her. Even those Nadir had warned her against, as part of Janet's clique. Christine was nearly limp with relief as she made her way to the restroom. Her contacts had been irritating her throughout the last scene.

"So." A woman stood watching her with the air of someone who had come home to find a large, unusual species of insect on the floor. She was older than Christine, her face sharply angular, Her bleach-blonde hair was cut in a short pixie cut around her face. She was pretty, in the stick-like grace of an underweight model. "You are Christine Daae."

Christine forced a friendly smile. "Yes. And you are?"

"Janet King." Her pale, unfriendly eyes scrutinized Christine sharply. "The girl who's job you took."

"I-"

"You're shorter than I thought." Janet interrupted her, drawling. "Usually he likes them taller." Her eyes flicked up and down Christine's body. "Curvier. Still, variety is the spice of life, they say."

Heat rushed to Christine's cheeks. "Are you implying that I slept my way to this job!" Fierce anger was coursing through her veins.

Again that slow drawl, an attempt at the sophisticated air. "Well, perhaps not slept, but-"

"How dare you." Christine said flatly.

The woman snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. How else would you get a job in a place like this?"

Christine had not missed the emphasis on the word you. "Hmm." she parodied the woman's bored tone, the careful inflection. "Perhaps because I can sing? That is the purpose of most Opera Houses, I believe."

"The little that you would know of them." The woman's eyes glittered dangerously. "I suggest you go back to whatever dump you came from, girl. Leave the singing to the people who can, hmm?"

Christine felt a hum of anger under her skin. "No," she replied flatly. "I earned this job fairly, I'll keep it. Since I doubt you have any purpose in being here since you no longer have a part, why don't you go? I'm sure you have better things to do than bother the staff." She knew she was being rude. She didn't care. Her patience had all but run out.

She walked out of the restroom, keeping up a facade of calm. Not looking where she was going, she walked right into someone. "Sorry." she said hastily. She looked up.

Intensely blue eyes met hers.

"Oh. She flushed. All the feelings of inadequacy, resentment, unsurety, rushed back.

He, thankfully, did not call attention to her embarrassment. "Christine. Are you free at break? We need to talk- and I have some apologies to make."

Christine's brain went suddenly numb. "Yes." she managed. "I think that would be a good idea."

He nodded. "Thank you for your time, Ms. Daae."

Looking across the antechamber, Christine saw the reason for his sudden adoption of formalities.

Janet glared at her from across the room. "Whore." The woman walked briskly away in quick, angry strides.

Christine started to go after her, furious, then halted. It's not worth it, Christine. She's jealous, Get over it. It's her problem, not yours.

She had other things to worry about.

Hmm, the infamous Janet appears. Why is she so angry, I wonder?

What did you think?

cookies n' hugs

Lee