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Chapter 4

"What do you mean NO?" I bellowed at the mousy-face conductor. I had scheduled a meeting to discuss the session needed to record the music Christine and I were going to use. I was quickly finding out that since I was no longer the "Opera Ghost" or true "Phantom" I was loosing respect from the entire Opera House community, faster than sane people flee from Carlotta's horrendous cackling. Even the sniveling little conductor, Monsieur Reyer, had the audacity to refuse his requests. The Erik of the past would have killed him on the spot, but the new Erik merely glared menacingly at him.

"I'm terribly sorry, sir, but with the new production coming up, my musicians simply cannot take precious time out of their schedule to learn and record a new song."

"I swear to you that it is not a difficult piece. It will only take several hours' time," I was desperately trying to remain civil and patient, but my patience was wearing thin.

"Sir, I say again, there is not enough time..."

"Damnit! Do you realize what I have done for you and this Opera House! Do you have any idea of where you would all be if it weren't for my guidance?" The blank look on Monsieur Reyer's face told me that I was not getting through to the conductor. Taking a deep breath, I organized my thoughts and tried a different approach.

"I don't believe I have told you the occasion for this piece. Christine and I will be dancing in the competition this week. As you can see, sir, time is of the utmost importance," I rolled my eyes at his shocked expression. I was growing tired of the look of disbelief on people's faces when I informed them of my little upcoming performance.

"You and Miss Daaé will be competing against La Carlotta?"

"Yes," I nodded, thankful that some thought processes were going on in his head. "This is why we need all of the help we can get."

Monsieur Reyer looked thoughtful for a second and then reached for the music, grinning slyly.

"I'll see what we can do for you."

I grinned out of the visible corner of my mouth. It was nice to see other people feeling the same way as I did in regards to Carlotta. I suddenly felt a flicker of hope; maybe Christine and I could pull this off after all.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Erik, it would do you well to avoid stepping on my feet, ok?" She glared at me in frustration. I could waltz; I had taught myself most of the usual ballroom dances in my spare time. My problem was that I never had a partner to worry about. When dancing with air, there were no toes to step on, bodies to crash into, or legs to become entangled in. Also, there was no voice nagging at me when I do things wrong.

I picked up the beat and started again. Waltzing in the square was no problem; neither was moving forwards and back. I took two beats of a turning waltz step before feeling the familiar uneven sensation under my foot and a grunt from Christine. I rocked my weight off of that foot as soon as possible.

"You try my patience, " she hissed at me before storming over to the stereo to turn off the music. It was ironic hear the words I had directed toward her that fateful night.

"I am trying, angel. I swear I am!" I pleaded.

"Don't, angel, me! We have been at this for the last three hours and nothing has improved. What's wrong with you?"

"I...I don't know," I stuttered. "I'm nervous. There, I said it. I'm nervous dancing with you."

"Why?" she placed her hands on her hips and gave me an icy stare.

I lowered my head in embarrassment. I had never let anyone know how they affected me personally.

"I'm afraid I will hurt you and disappoint you," I finally mumbled.

"I see," she softened a bit. Then, realization hit her. "I have an idea! Stay here and practice."

"Ok," I agreed, and looked at my confused expression in the studio mirrors as she ran off on her quest. I walked over to the stereo and moved back to the center of the floor. Keeping my chin up and arms raised in a strong frame, I waltzed around the floor minding where my feet were placed and keeping the correct position.

A few minutes later, Christine returned, but she was not alone. I outwardly groaned at the sight of Mr. de Chagney himself as he sauntered into the room.

"What is he doing here?"

"I heard you needed help, old man," he smirked. "I don't know if I am qualified to give you the help you truly need, but I can help you to not look like a complete fool on the dance floor."

He was mocking. That little twit was mocking me!

"Are you mocking me, Vicomte? You do realize that men have died for doing less than that," I glared at him and made a strangling motion to emphasize my point. He shrugged his shoulders and followed Christine across the floor.

"Show me your position and frame, " she ordered and proceeded to pose me to her will. "Good, now hold it right there."

"Raoul, let me see your position," he did as she asked. "Good, now turn to face Erik as if you were his mirror image."

I believe the fop uttered something about never wanting to be my reflection, but was cut short with a cold look from Christine. He turned and put his right arm up to match my left one. Christine restated the music and then shoved Raoul into me.

"Now, dance."

It was Raoul's turn to go pale. I was already having a mental breakdown.

"But, I...I thought I was going to help you teach Erik to d-dance!"

"You are. You lead, Raoul. Erik, follow. Once you get a rhythm, we will switch roles. See, Erik? Now you don't have to worry about stepping on my toes," she added with a bright smile.

"Now, DANCE!"

We picked up the beat and Raoul and I proceeded to promenade around the dance floor.

"Not a word, Chagney. Not one word," I muttered through gritted teeth at his amused expression. As much as I hated to admit it, Raoul was a better-than-average dancer. I blame his high-class upbringing.

"Twirl," he said and pushed me into a spin. Totally unprepared for the direction change, I tripped and fell to the floor. I glared at the Barbie-boy who was unsuccessfully trying to cover laughter. I heard tittering from near the stereo and turned my head to see Christine leaning against it to stay upright. They thought my falling down was amusing. How wonderful for them.

Raoul finally offered a hand to help me up and I looked at it with obvious distain.

"Touch me and you're dead," I growled.

"Psh," he withdrew his hand. "I'd only touch you to make sure you're dead."

I pushed myself up and brushed off my black slacks and white shirt. Knowing that I would be working, I decided to dress light.

"Alright, again!"

Raoul and I joined up again and glided around the studio.

"Oh, the things I do for you," I muttered to Christine as we danced past her. She just winked in response.

After about half an hour waltzing around the floor with the girlie-man, Christine allowed us to take a break. Obviously, I did a far better job leading than following. He did look more like a girl anyway. Once I caught my breath, I crossed the room and offered Christine my hand.

"Shall we dance, Mademoiselle?"

XXXXXXXXX

"Bravo, bravo!" Madame Giry was beaming at our performance. Erik had improved so much the previous few days it was incredible. It seemed like he was more confident in the steps so now he could tap into that amazing grace he possessed.

"Look at that, " I teased as I smiled up at him with pride. "You didn't even step on me once!"

"I guess an old dog can be taught new tricks after all," he jested back, cocking his visible eyebrow. I couldn't help but giggle at this and remember back to a few days ago when I had forced Erik and Raoul to dance together. I knew that it would help Erik gain confidence, but the bonus of watching the two men (who would not hesitate to kill each other if it wasn't for me) waltz together had amused me to no end.

"Now that you two are fine with the waltz, we need to work on your freestyle piece. Erik, do you have the music yet?" Madame Giry inquired. I felt Erik tense up and look at the floor.

"Not yet. I need Christine's help to finish it," he mumbled. Madame Giry gaped, which had to reflect my shocked expression.

"We only have 3 days left until the competition and you're telling me that you don't even have the music done yet!" I fumed. 3 days to come up and learn choreography to a freestyle song. All hope I had felt after dancing the waltz had melted away to a sense of panic and dread.

"Calm down, angel," he tried to soothe me, placing his hands on my shoulders as I glared up at him. "It will work out. I swear it."

I hated when he looked at me like that. His expression was completely commanding and spellbinding. As hard as I tried to hang onto the anger I felt, it dissipated. I had no choice but to trust him.

"It had better work out, Mr. Phantom, or else..." I left my threat unsaid, but the meaning was well taken.

He nodded in understanding and then took my hand, pulling me towards the door.

"Come, we have work to do."