The Girl Next Door

She came to see him the next day. He opened the door and found her dressed more like the usual Christine, a jumper, jeans and her hair in a messy knot, carrying a tin under one arm.

"Good morning, Erik."

"Christine… I was going to come and see you today." He let her in. "I wanted to apologise for last night. I was out of line."

"You were a bit." She said breezily.

Erik struggled to explain.

"I was-"

"Erik, its fine." She insisted. "After listening to me go on about Stuart so many times, you only said it to shut me up. And I don't really blame you. It's probably very irritating, having to put up with my moaning all the time."

He looked at her. So… she hadn't taken it in the way he had expected her to. That was some comfort. But it was also, for some unknown reason, something of a disappointment. Erik pushed the thought away.

"So what can I do for you?" He asked. She smiled.

"I felt in a singing kind of mood and was hoping you weren't too busy."

"Then we should start straight away." Erik said, closing the door. His eyes fell on the tin under her arm and she laughed slightly.

"I was doing some baking this morning and brought some cookies over. Do you like chocolate chip?"

How strange that they could move from apologies to singing to cookies within the space of two minutes, Erik pondered.

The lesson passed quickly and Erik was relieved to find himself slipping back into a more comfortable mood with her. It was easy to be attracted to the Christine of the previous night. He preferred the current Christine, dressed casually and comfortable enough to fall back into her habit of teasing him.

He made them tea whilst she nibbled on a cookie. He took one and tasted it.

"They're good." He said.

"There's no need to sound so surprised." She said indignantly.

"I'm not. I'm actually paying you a compliment." Erik said, handing her a cup of tea. Christine smiled.

"Then thank you."

"How was the party?" Erik said, not really wanting to know but feeling that he should ask. Christine settled onto the sofa as he took an armchair.

"It was fun, actually. I met Stuart's work friends and his boss. I mean, it wasn't my idea of a grand night out, but still…" She sipped her tea and then sighed. "I haven't spoken to him since last night. I'm making a royal mess out of this. But I know that I can't give him what he wants."

"Then why are you still with him?" Erik asked, genuinely curious.

"Because I'm too selfish to let him go."

The brutal honesty of her words struck him full force. Christine smiled sadly.

"I know it's awful. But… I just don't want to be alone anymore. He wants me and I just feel that if I push him away now, I'm never going to have someone again."

"That's ridiculous."

"You think so?"

"I know so. You are an extraordinary young woman, Christine. You will be able to find someone without effort. Someone who you will be able to appreciate as much as he does you." Erik said, not entirely sure why he was saying it.

Christine looked down at her tea.

"You think I should let him go?"

"I'm not saying that. I don't know exactly what your relationship is with him. Perhaps you should give it more time. But if you know, right now, that you are never going to be able to feel that way for him, you should let him find someone who can."

As if he was someone in a position to give romantic advice, Erik though bitterly. Christine sighed.

"You're right. I am just leading him on."

"It's your decision." Erik said hastily. Christine smiled.

"Yeah. Because the ones I've made so far as so brilliant."

There were several moments of silence in which contemplated their thoughts. Erik looked across at her.

"I sometimes wonder who it was that made you so afraid."

"And I sometimes wonder who it was that hurt you so much." Christine said softly. "I guess we're quite alike really, aren't we?"

"Yes."

"…I'm glad. It's comforting to know that there's someone like me."

"…Yes." Erik said again. It was all he felt capable of saying. Christine looked him the eye.

"I'll tell you one day. Not yet, though. But one day I'll tell you what happened."

"I can't make the same promise." Erik warned.

"I'm not asking you to. Knowing that you'll be here to listen is enough." Christine said. "You will be here, won't you?"

"I don't have plans to leave." Erik said softly.

They looked at each other for a moment. Eventually Christine stirred.

"I'd better go and do some work. I've got a nice pile of editing waiting for me."

"Have fun with that." Erik said deprecatingly. Christine snorted.

"Yeah, sure. It's a rollercoaster of fun. Keep the rest of the cookies; I've got more at home."

"I'll see you later." Erik said, walking her to the door. She smiled up at him.

"Thank you, Erik."

He nodded mutely, watching as she went to her apartment. He then closed the door and leant against the wall, trying to figure out the rush of strange, unwelcome emotions that were flooding his chest.

There were two messages on Christine's machine. She pressed play and found that they were both from Stuart.

Hi Christine. Just checking to see if you're OK. Do you want to meet for dinner or something? Call me back.

Hi, Christine, it's me again. I guess you're still not in. I'll try again later.

Christine reached for the phone but it rang before she the opportunity to dial. She answered hastily.

"Hello?"

"Hi Christine."

"Stuart, I was just about to call you." She said.

"Yeah, where were you? Your mobile isn't on either." Stuart said.

"I was having tea with Erik. I guess I forgot to turn my phone on." Christine said, pushing her hair out of her face. "Are you still free for dinner?"

She might be being selfish. But she was still too afraid.

The weekend passed painfully slowly. Erik found that he had far too much time to think and all too often found his thoughts wandering to the woman across the hallway.

He eventually figured out a reasonable explanation for the emotions that she brought out in him. The most obvious thing would be that she was the closest person to him, literally. He had no real friends, other than Nadir, and certainly no female ones. It was merely logical that he would react like this to an attractive woman. It was a basic human function.

The second thing he had decided upon was what they had discussed on Saturday. That he and Christine Daae were very similar people, both with injured pasts and issues with trust. It was easy for him to connect with someone whom he had so much in common with. And, he had firmly told himself, as long as he kept it as what it obviously was, there was no harm in it.

And Erik Destler was nothing if not strong willed.

"Ah, there you are." Nadir said as he came in. "No, don't take your coat off. We're going over to Populaire Advertising to see if they'll be interested in doing the promotion for the concert in April."

Fate was a sadistic mistress.

"Christine, I want you in the boardroom at ten thirty sharp." Firmin said, looking into her office.

"How come?" Christine said, looking up from a portfolio.

"Someone from the Hawthorn Theatre is coming and since you're our representative in those projects, we need you there."

"OK, I'll be there." Christine said. Firmin disappeared and Christine considered the event. Why hadn't Erik mentioned that he'd be coming in? Well, that was assuming that it would be Erik at all. She'd see at ten thirty.

When she entered the boardroom, it was to find Firmin and Carlotta were already waiting. Christine almost halted when she saw that Carlotta was present but decided not to let it get to her.

"They'll be here any minute." Firmin said.

"Do you know what it's for?" Christine asked, taking a seat.

"A concert, in a couple of month's time. A very big affair on all accounts." Firmin said excitedly, grooming his moustache. "I should think that it's going to be a very big job."

"I can't wait!" Christine grinned. "A big job is just what I need right now."

The door opened and Nadir and Erik entered. The three stood to shake hands with them. Christine smiled at Erik, who returned it briefly.

"Mr Khan, Mr Destler, this is Carlotta Guidacelli, a sort of guest-of-honour to Populaire Advertising." Firmin said proudly. Erik saw Christine raise her eyes to the ceiling and fought back a smirk. "And you've already met Christine Daae."

"Indeed we have." Nadir said, with a nod.

They began to discuss the job at hand.

"The concert is to celebrate the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Hawthorn Theatre's opening." Nadir began. "There's going to be music from almost every show that it has been put on. But our big part is Mr Destler's own music. He has written and produced our most successful shows to date, so a lot of the focus will be on his work."

Erik didn't look particularly impressed by this. Christine suppressed a smile at his reaction and asked,

"What do you need?"

"Everything. We want to get all possible advertising done by Populaire." Nadir said. "It should be similar to what you produced on Il Muto but on a much larger scale. This is going to be a very big event and I need that to be conveyed to the public."

"That shouldn't be a problem." Firmin said confidently. Nadir smiled slightly.

"There may be one. We want a theme for the opening."

"A theme?" Firmin's smile faltered but Christine sat forward in interest.

Nadir looked to Erik.

"Perhaps you would care to take the floor?"

"Thank you, Nadir." Erik said smoothly. "Yes, a theme. I want to whole concert to be based on the theme of Heaven and Hell. Life and Death. I presume that won't be a problem."

"It won't." Christine said, ideas already flooding her mind. There was so much she could do with a theme like that. Images flashed in her head, plan after plan looming out of the darkness.

"I'm glad you think so. Because we want you in charge." Erik said, looking directly at her. "Not just for graphics, but for the whole project. A sort of editor-in-chief, if you will. I understand, Mr Firmin, that you are the manager but I have extreme faith in Miss Daae's abilities."

"That makes two of us." Firmin said warmly. "What do you think, Christine? Can you handle that?"

"Tell me when to start." Christine said positively.

With the basics out of the way, Firmin ordered coffee to be brought in. Whilst he was doing this, Christine was already pulling out a notepad.

"Do you have a list of the pieces that are going to be played?" Nadir handed her a folder. There was a CD inside.

"That's got all the pieces on it." He said.

"I was just thinking, why not split them into Heaven and Hell pieces? A mixture of both or in two halves." She said, scanning the list. "This piece, the ballad from Il Muto, that would definitely be a Heaven, but this one is much darker. So that could go into Hell."

"Combining them would be better." Erik said. "So they don't drain each other. If the pieces are alternated, they could stand apart and have more of an effect."

Christine shifted her chair around so they were sat together and the pair began to jot down ideas, avidly discussing the plans.

"Two poster types, complete opposites. That'll draw attention to it."

"The decorations of the theatre must reflect the theme. Can you do that here?"

Firmin and Nadir exchanged confident glances. This would not be a problem at all.

As the meeting ended, they all stood to say goodbye. Carlotta moved forward and offered her hand to Erik, smiling.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr Destler."

"And you, Miss Guidacelli." He shook her hand briefly before turning to Christine. "I shall speak with you later."

"Of course." She smiled. Firmin and Nadir had already moved ahead, so Erik asked,

"Shall you be visiting this evening?"

"If you're not too busy." Christine agreed. "I'll make dinner, it'll be easier."

"Very well." He hesitated. "Have you spoken to Mr Wilkins?"

Christine looked at her feet awkwardly.

"We had dinner on Saturday night and met before work, as usual. But… nothing's changed, if that's what you mean." She said quietly. Erik didn't really know how to feel about that, so he nodded and then followed Nadir to the exit.

When Christine arrived that night, she found Erik reading. He had picked up a new copy of Blake and Christine looked at the page, curious to know which poem he was reading.

"I was thinking how similar you were to one of the poems earlier." Erik commented.

"Which one?"

"The Angel."

"Is that a compliment?" Christine smiled. Erik looked at her.

"Not necessarily."

He pointed to a line and Christine read it.

I dried my tears and armed my fear

With ten thousand shields and spears.

"That's a little too close to home." Christine commented. Erik nodded.

"Very apt, don't you think?"

"Hmm." She flicked through the book. "This could really help with the project you gave me. Innocence and Experience, Heaven and Hell. It's a good comparison, there's a lot of room for artistic license."

"Indeed. Shall we begin?"

Stuart listened as Christine described the project at breakfast the next morning. He smiled across the café table at her.

"It sounds really interesting."

"It will be." Christine said confidently. "It's going to be a real challenge. Erik and I were discussing ideas last night and I really think that I can do well on this."

"You and he spend a lot of time together. Should I be jealous?" Stuart teased. Their tenseness of the weekend had been pushed away, a sort of silent agreement between them not to bring it up.

Christine smiled at his comment.

"We have a lot in common. And it's handy having him live so nearby. It means we can brainstorm on the projects. It's nice to have something to discuss things like this with.

"What, we can't do that?"

"Stuart, you hate opera." Christine reminded him. She looked at her watch. "We'd better get going or we'll be late."

"Hi Christine." Meg called as Christine entered the office. They still had a few minutes before work 'officially' started, so she and Sorelli were at the coffee machine, gossiping. Christine joined them.

"How's it going?" Sorelli asked, drinking coffee and yawning,

"Not bad." Christine said, slipping coins into the machine and selecting a drink. "I need to start getting more sleep though; I'm becoming completely dependant on caffeine."

"Is Stuart keeping you up?" Meg winked. Christine gave her an irritated look.

"No. He's not. And I would really prefer not to discuss it."

Carlotta came into the office, clad in a stylish black skirt, white blouse, and to-die-for boots. She joined them at once and cast a disgusted look at Christine's fresh coffee.

"You're actually going to drink that swill?"

"Apparently so." Christine replied flatly. Carlotta pulled a face at the very thought and turned to Meg and Sorelli. But Meg was still preoccupied with Christine's love life.

"Is everything OK with you and Stuart? I mean, I thought you were getting on really well." She said. Christine sighed heavily.

"We are. We just haven't taken it to the next level yet."

"Really? But you've been together for ages!" Sorelli said in astonishment.

"Three months! It's not very long, really. Just because you fall into bed on the first date…"

"Hey, that's an exaggeration." Sorelli said indignantly. Meg considered.

"Actually, that's just about right for you."

Sorelli flounced away, thoroughly insulted. Carlotta looked at Christine.

"You're seeing someone?"

"Yes."

"Oh. I just thought that there was something going on with you and the man from the Hawthorn. The one with the mask." Carlotta said, tossing her hair idly over one shoulder. Christine let out a laugh.

"What, Erik? Of course not!"

"But I heard you making plans with him for last night." Carlotta said, with an innocent look on her face. Sorelli instantly reappeared, not wanting to miss out on any gossip. Christine looked at Carlotta and said dryly,

"What you mean is that you were eavesdropping and jumped to conclusions. Erik and I are friends; we live on the same floor of our apartment building. We were meeting up to have dinner, so we could discuss the concert project. Nothing more than that."

Sorelli left again, apparently disappointed by the lack of juicy gossip. Carlotta sighed.

"I saw what I saw. I just suppose you haven't realised it yet." She walked away and Christine was tempted to throw her coffee at the back of her head. Meg grinned at her.

"Breathe, Chris. She's only doing it to rile you up."

"Yes, but its working and it shouldn't be. Oh, I haven't got the energy or inclination to do anything. I'm just going to get to work." Christine said, draining her coffee and dropping the Styrofoam cup into the bin.

It was late. Christine glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly midnight. She rubbed at her eyes. They were sore from staring at the computer screen for so long. She had been working for hours.

She saved her work and turned the screen off. Suddenly she heard something that made her jump. It was a crashing noise. But it wasn't coming from her apartment, it was coming from…

"Erik?"

"Erik, please stop!" She begged. He glared down at her, his fingers digging into her arms.

"Why did you do it?" He demanded, his voice rough and furious.

"I was trying to help you, Erik. I was trying to help!" She pleaded. "I don't want you to hide from me anymore!"

Erik gave an angry shout and she cried in fear as the white mask dropped from her hand.

He awoke with a sheen of sweat across his face. Erik stumbled out of bed, trying to shake the terrible dream from his mind, going into the living room.

No… no, it hadn't been like that… it hadn't…

It hadn't…

It hadn't…

…it had…

"Damn you!" Erik shouted and before he could control himself, he had punched his fist into the painting on the wall. The glass shattered and the canvas tore.

He could have stood like that for hours, or perhaps just minutes, or even seconds before he heard an anxious female voice outside the door.

"Erik?"

He didn't reply, certain that she would leave if he didn't reply.

"Erik, is everything alright?" Christine called again, apprehension in her voice. Before Erik could work himself up to calling a lie, Christine had tried the door and found it unlocked. The door swung open and Erik saw the look of confusion and horror in her eyes.

"Erik, what happened?" She cried, moving swiftly to his side. Erik couldn't reply. Christine carefully extracted his fist from the painting. Glass and blood fell to the floor, tinkling lightly. She stared at the bloodstained flesh before guiding him silently to the kitchen.

She turned on the water and placed his fist beneath it. Erik hissed as the water stung. Christine winced.

"Sorry." She murmured. Erik didn't reply. She waited until the blood had been rinsed away and saw that there were still several shards of glass embedded in the hand.

"Do you have some tweezers?" She asked. Erik spoke automatically; his mind was lost in the recesses of his dream, where a frightened woman was weeping.

"Under the sink in the bathroom."

Christine left his side momentarily. She returned and paused in the doorway, noticing for the first time that Erik was not wearing a shirt. Across his back were scars, criss-crossing white lines on the skin that covered powerful muscles. She wondered vaguely what had caused them. But the more immediate issue of his hand was still the main focus of her attention.

Trying not to look away, she pulled the glass from his skin before wrapping his fist in a towel. It took a worrying amount of time for the bleeding to stop. She forced him to sit on a kitchen stool as she found a bandage and began to wrap it around his hand.

Slowly, Erik began to emerge from the nightmare. His attention turned to the woman who was carefully tying the knot on the bandage around his fist.

"Christine?" He whispered, realising properly for the first time that she was there. She looked up at him.

"Erik, what happened?"

"…I don't know."

"You destroyed the painting." She said softly. "The one in the living room."

"…I had a nightmare."

Christine stared at him. To anyone else, this explanation would have seemed ridiculous. But she had experienced nightmares so terrifying that she had not slept for days at a time before. Many people underestimated the true potential of fear that nightmares possessed. But she wondered what he had seen, to bring a man so strong to such weakness.

"Will you be able to sleep?" She asked gently. Erik shook his head mutely, feeling like a child. Christine took his uninjured hand and led him through the apartment to the bedroom. She helped him into bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. He was blinking blearily, lost in a place between asleep and awake.

She could tell from his expression that it was a place that frightened him. She held his good hand, stroking the top of it softly, not sure of what to do. She couldn't possibly leave him like this. Her eyes fell upon the music box, the little monkey's eyes gleaming in the darkness. She released Erik's hand and wound the key. The soft, sweet music wrapped itself around them. Erik's eyes fixed on Christine's face and her eyes met his. She moved to kneel by the side of the bed, his hand once again clasped in hers.

"Christine…"

"Shh." She murmured. "Just sleep."

Erik's eyes slid closed and for the first time in many years, he slept in complete and utter peace.

A/N: I have REALLY gotten into this story now! Lol, unfortunately I'm working solid for the next three days so updates might be a bit scarcer. Plus I'm still working on 'A Defensive Christmas'. But I am loving this story and I hope you all are too! Keep reading and reviewing. I made up a vague plan last night, because I have so many ideas rushing around and I've planned up to at least 23 chapters. And those are just my current ideas. So I've still got a lot of work to go and I can't wait!

But, as I said - working. Part time job. W00t. Fun. And also a disaster at the hairdressers. Lol, I guess I should laugh. I've got really cool blue extensions now, but he cut my hair so short, I hate it! Sigh, never mind. Leave a review and cheer up a girl with a deranged haircut.

Love

Katie