The Girl Next Door

Christine felt a painful crick in her neck. She must have slept on it funny. She rolled over, wanting to get back to sleep and her eyes shot open as there was a grunt as she rolled onto something large and solid.

Erik Destler peered down at her. It took a moment for her to realise what was going on and she pushed herself up, relieved to find that she was still fully clothed beneath the blankets. Erik was lying on top of the covers, clearly not comfortable with the idea of being under them with her.

"…Erik? What…?"

"You didn't look comfortable on the floor." He said sleepily. This didn't clear things up particularly well for Christine. She took a moment to think this through rationally. What chain of events had led to her ending up in her neighbour's bed?

"Your hand." She mumbled. He held it up and she saw the bandages. Erik looked over at the clock.

"It's four in the morning. You may as well go back to sleep."

Christine was too tired to argue. She carefully positioned herself a respectable space away from Erik and closed her eyes, pulling the cover over her. It was cold. Erik had already closed his eyes. She looked at him for a moment.

"Erik?"

"Hmm?"

"Why don't you take your mask off to sleep?" She whispered. His eyes opened and bore into hers.

"I do, usually. But not tonight. Go to sleep."

She put her head back down and slipped into delicious unconsciousness.

She woke again at seven to find herself alone. Christine yawned and pushed the blankets back, rubbing the grit from her eyes. She heard someone moving about in the kitchen and went to find Erik. The glass had been cleared up from the floor, the picture was gone and Christine was greeted by the smell of coffee and toast.

Erik was filling the coffee pot with hot water. Christine watched him. He had put a shirt on now, covering the old scars. He tried to pick something up with his bandaged hand and let out a quiet hiss of pain, dropping the spoon. It clattered on the surface. Christine moved forward and he looked at her.

"Good morning."

"Morning. How's your hand?"

"Sore. But it'll heal."

"Perhaps you should go to a doctor." Christine said. "It might get infected."

Erik laughed hollowly.

"I don't care for doctors. I can take care of it." Christine had no doubt of that. Erik had proved in his time to be a very capable man. He looked at her sideways.

"Thank you. For your assistance last night."

"Just repaying the favour." Christine said. "You looked after me when I was attacked."

Erik put a plate of toast down and Christine helped herself to a piece. As she munched it, she watched him carefully.

"Erik?"

"Yes?"

"Who did that painting?"

Ah… she was far more perceptive than he had given her credit for. Erik glanced at her.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because to punch that particular painting you would have had to cross the living room and aim directly for it. It wasn't an accident that you destroyed it, Erik. Why that painting? There are others in there." She gestured behind her to the living room. Erik poured coffee.

"You're being very presumptuous. Perhaps it was coincidence."

"Or perhaps you're avoiding the question." Christine shot back. Erik put down the coffee pot and looked at her.

"Someone I once knew. I was… angry last night and acted rashly."

"And you'd prefer not talk about it." Christine finished. Erik nodded and handed her a cup.

"Jesus, Christine, you look like hell." Meg said when Christine got to work. Christine glared at her.

"Shut up. Just shut up. I didn't sleep well."

"What happened?"

"Oh… my neighbour had an accident; I had to help him out." Christine said vaguely. Meg followed her to her office.

"Is he OK?"

"He's fine. But neither of us got much sleep." She hung her coat up and fell into her chair. "I really want to go home. I am so tired."

"Why don't you pull a sickie?"

"Meg, I've never taken a day off work. I'm not going to now, just because I'm a little tired." Christine said flatly.

She turned on the computer and Firmin came in.

"Morning Christine, Meg."

"Morning Mr Firmin. I'll just be getting back to work." Meg said cheerfully. Christine opened a file and Firmin sat on the edge of the desk.

"How is Heaven and Hell coming along?"

"I've got all the ideas. I'm just going to write up the plans and get them to the other departments before I start on designing." Christine said. A yawn hit her and she covered her mouth. Firmin frowned.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine. Did you need me?" She asked, suddenly wondering why he was there.

"No, just checking in. If you're not feeling well, just go home. You've got several sick days overdue."

He left, with a concerned look over his shoulder. Christine buried her face in her hands.

"What in the name of Allah have you done?" Nadir said. Erik looked up from his office door. He had just taken the bandages off to check the extent of the damage.

"Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" He said icily.

"Heard of it. What did you do?"

"I punched a painting." Erik said vaguely. There were several large gashes, as well as a few little cuts and scratches. The knuckles of his fist were bruised as well.

"Oh. That explains everything." Nadir said sarcastically. Erik gave him an annoyed look.

"If you've nothing useful to say, the door is over there."

"Calm yourself, Erik. I just wanted your final approval for the opening plans. We've only got until next Friday."

"I am well aware of when we open, Nadir." He flexed his hand, refusing to wince as sharp pains shot through the muscles. He began to wrap a fresh bandage around the hand, following Nadir to the door.

"What do you wear to an opening night at the opera?" Stuart asked. Christine shrugged, pinning the phone between her shoulder and ear as she typed on her computer in the study.

"Not sure. I'd guess it's formal, I'll ask Erik."

"I'll have to dig a proper suit out from somewhere then." Stuart said, the line crackling.

"I'll find a dress or something if I have to." She saved her work and turned the screen off. "Are you looking forward to it?"

"Sure." He said in a voice that was far too cheerful.

"Honestly?"

"Not so much." He admitted. "But if I go in with no expectations, it can only be good, right?"

"That's a very odd way of looking at it." Christine commented, going into the kitchen and taking a bottle of water from the fridge.

"I'll see you in the morning. Get some sleep, OK?"

"Nothing is going to stop me from getting a good night's sleep." Christine said firmly.

She put the phone down and drank thirstily. It was Wednesday evening and she had only two days before Il Muto opened. She drained the bottle and then crossed to apartment 5a. She could hear music coming from within. The door was, as usual, unlocked and she pushed it open, knocking as she did so.

"Erik?"

"Come in, Christine." He said, not looking up from the piano. She smiled.

"I won't keep you. Stuart and I were just wondering what to wear on Friday. It's a formal occasion, right?"

"That's correct." He said, finally looking up.

"Are you excited?" Christine smiled.

"Should I be?"

"Erik, your opera is about to be opened! Of course you should be!" She laughed. Erik's mouth quirked into a smile.

"Then I'll try and work myself up into the frenzy that currently seems to possess you."

Christine snorted with laughter and Erik stood. For a moment Christine admired his graceful movements, always so smooth and certain. A very different being from the one she had found that night over a week ago. There were no bandages on Erik's hand now, but scabs had formed into thick reddish-brown lines and bruises were yellow and purple.

"Tea?" He asked. Christine nodded and then said,

"A quick cup. I've been designing the main logo for Heaven posters. Do you want to see?"

"I do."

She darted back to her apartment and returned with a folder of designs. She extracted one and handed it to him. It was pure black with the image of a hawthorn tree in white in the centre, with two angelic wings spreading from it, on the very point of flight. In elegant script across the top of the page were the words 'Heaven and Hell - The Hawthorn Theatre'

"That's just a rough. I'm trying to decide between that tagline or 'The Hawthorn Theatre presents: Heaven and Hell'." Christine said.

"I prefer it like this." Erik commented.

"Really? Well, that makes my job easier!" Christine smiled, closing the folder. Erik smiled too and turned away, forcing himself to breathe in hopes that his heart would cease in it's frantic thudding.

Christine ran a hand through her hair, pushing it out of her face as he handed her a cup of tea. They sat and Erik said,

"Are you excited about Il Muto?"

"Erik, I can't wait. I've never been to an opening night before! I used to go to the opera occasionally with my parents but never to the opening."

"Your parents were fans of the opera?" Erik asked. Christine chewed her lip.

"Hmm… Dad was a violinist. He never played anywhere big. But he was good. And Mum adored music, she taught me to play the piano."

"If you don't mind me asking… how did they…?" He gestured helplessly. Christine smiled slightly.

"I don't mind. Mum was in a car crash. I was eighteen at the time. And Dad killed himself about six months later."

Erik watched her as she said it. A carefully blank expression had covered her face. He suspected that it was more painful to discuss the subject than she was admitting to.

"What about your parents?" She asked suddenly. Erik let out a dry laugh.

"I have no idea who my father was. And my mother was… we were not on good terms. I suspect she's dead, but I don't find that I particularly care one way or the other."

"Erik!"

"I'm only being honest, Christine." He said calmly.

"Brothers or sisters?"

"Fortunately, none." He commented, placing his cup on a table. Christine considered him.

"You've been alone for a long time."

"One might consider that a blessing."

"You're so cynical!"

"And you're rather naïve."

Christine rolled her eyes.

"Well, much as I would love to carry on with all the name-calling, I have to get this work done. Thanks for the tea."

"Do you want to do something tonight?" Meg asked Christine as they drank their coffee during their midmorning break on Friday. Christine shook her head.

"Can't. Stuart and I are going to the opening of Il Muto."

"Oh, right, I forgot. Have fun!"

"I will. Don't know about Stuart, but as long as he doesn't fall asleep, we'll manage." Christine grinned. "But we've got great seats and I think he'll enjoy it if he gives it a chance."

"I'd never be able to drag Matt to the opera. You've got Stuart wrapped around your little finger." Meg smiled, throwing her cup away. "Well, back to work. These programmes won't design themselves."

Christine went back to her office, passing Sorelli on the way. She was flirting shamelessly with Steven from communications, who was relishing the attention. Christine gave a little grin at him before passing to her office.

Erik was emerging from his apartment as Christine got home. She smiled at him.

"Off to the theatre already?"

"There's a horrifying amount to do before tonight." He said.

"Is there somewhere to meet afterwards? I want to buy you a congratulatory drink."

"You're assuming that the opera will be successful."

"No, I know that it will be a success. You couldn't write something that wasn't amazing." Christine said firmly. Erik gave a tiny smile.

"There is a bar in the cellar of the theatre."

"I'll meet you there afterwards then. I'll see you later. I have to take a shower before tonight."

She threw her coat and bag onto the sofa and switched the radio on as she ate a quick meal before she jumped into the hot shower. She scrubbed herself clean and took the dress that she hadn't worn to Stuart's party out of the wardrobe. It was black velvet with thin shoulder straps and reached to just above her knee. The layer of red lace over the top was decorated into a pattern of twisting roses. Christine rarely had an opportunity to wear it, but it would be perfect for tonight. She painted her nails dark red once she had put the dress on and found a black wrap to wear over the top of the dress. It was only February and Christine highly doubted that it was warm enough to risk going without.

She tied her hair into a simple ponytail and dropped a few essentials into a shoulder bag before doing her make up. Dark eye shadow, dark red lipstick to match her nails, mascara and foundation. No need to go overboard.

The intercom buzzed and she let Stuart in. He arrived as she was pulling shoes on.

"How do I look?" He asked apprehensively. Christine smiled at his dark suit.

"Very handsome. What about me?"

"You always look gorgeous, stop fishing for compliments!" He grinned, kissing her on the cheek, not wanting to smudge her lipstick. "Ready to go?"

"Couldn't be readier."

Their seats were in the centre front of the main balcony, directly overlooking the stage. Christine perched on the edge of her seat, admiring the beautiful theatre. She hadn't really taken it in on her first visit. But now she had time to appreciate the decoration and style of the room. Stuart was glancing through the programme, reading the information.

Finally, at exactly eight o' clock, the lights dimmed and the excitement level rose considerably. The audience quietened and Christine waited eagerly for the curtains to lift. They soon did and Christine allowed herself to fall into the incomparable bliss that no other experience could match in beauty and fulfilment.

Erik sat in the shadows of Box 5, watching as the story of romance played out between the countess and Seraphimo. A vague smile of satisfaction played across his face. This… this was why he breathed. The rich, fantastical music that filled his ears and mind with such beauty, that sensation was what he spent his life doing.

Surely no other person in the world could do this as he could? He did not mean to be arrogant, but he did not believe that anyone needed music as much as he did, so much that they would live for it the way that he did.

He allowed his eyes to dart around the theatre during the ballet of act three. The wealthy patrons were spotted around the other boxes, critics were filling the first few rows, and other various important people filled the seats.

And then he found her. The person he was truly looking for this night. The one person that he believed could possibly appreciate this music the way it could be.

She was sat straight up in her seat, leaning against the edge of the balcony and was gazing in mesmerised adoration at the stage, as the ballet dancers leapt and spun gracefully, using the music as the wings that would lift them to Heaven and back in a single scene. He vaguely noticed Stuart in the seat beside her, watching as so many other people did – with the intention of making this just another night. Those others did not appreciate that, if they allowed it to, this music could change their entire lives, could affect them in ways far more beauteous than religion or art.

But she was different. The utter joy that filled her face convinced him of that. Erik could have watched her all night. Only with the applause that filled the theatre as the act ended, did he tear his eyes away from the girl, no, the woman sat in the balcony, who was applauding, with her cheeks flushed and her eyes shining.

"That was amazing." Christine sighed as she and Stuart struggled their way through the crowds as the opera finished. Stuart grinned at her.

"I'll admit it, I actually enjoyed it. I won't be making it a regular point to go every time there's a new one out, but it wasn't as bad as I was scared it was going to be."

Christine smiled, still intoxicated for the experience.

"I just loved it; it was so… there aren't even words for it!" She said as they descended the stairs to the bar. It was quite crowded, not enough to make it difficult to get somewhere to sit but enough to make it quite noisy.

"What do you want to drink?" Stuart asked.

"Red wine, please."

"Back in a minute." He disappeared into the crowd. Christine claimed them a table and sat facing the door as she read the programme. Her head felt light and she wanted to laugh with excitement. She hadn't felt like this in so long, it was wonderful to feel so free and happy.

Stuart placed a glass in front of her, with a pint of beer in his other hand.

"I'm impressed. I know you said that Mr Destler's a good musician, but I guess you have to hear it for yourself."

"See? You should always believe everything that I say." Christine said with a smile. She closed the programme and took a sip of her wine. "And look how well it all turned out. Meg and Sorelli did a fantastic job with the programmes."

"Advertising and Designs by Populaire Advertising. You should get this preserved." Stuart joked, tapping the small line on the back of the programme. Christine was about to reply when her face lit up and she stood.

Erik walked slowly into the bar, still revelling in the success of his opera. Every single critic had stopped to congratulate him and Nadir was still on the telephone to various newspapers and radio stations to give information.

He glanced around the busy bar, wondering if he should just go home. But then he saw Christine walking towards him, a huge smile on her lovely face.

"Erik, that was incredible." She said earnestly and, to his utter amazement, lifted herself onto tiptoe and pressed her mouth to his exposed cheek. A waft of sweet perfume floated around her, muffling his senses momentarily before he had a chance to reply.

"You liked it?"

"I loved it. I never dreamed that you could write something so wonderful." She said, smiling. Erik returned the smile and said,

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. It's good to have an opinion that means something."

How very inconsequential that sentence was. But Christine flushed happily and slipped her arms around him in a hug. Erik, rather unsure of himself, looped his arms about her and for the briefest moment in time, he allowed himself to hold Christine Daae.

His blood raced. His heart pounded. His mind dropped all defences and Erik Destler was finally forced to admit what he had spent so many hours denying.

And, as he released her, his eyes went over her head to meet those of Stuart Wilkins, who was watching with an odd expression on his handsome face.

And it was quite obvious to Erik that he knew as well.

Christine guided Erik back to their table.

"What do you want to drink, Erik? My treat." Christine offered.

"Red wine."

"Good choice." Christine laughed, glancing at her own drink. She disappeared to the bar and returned a moment later with a glass for him. As she sat, she lifted her glass.

"To Il Muto."

"To Il Muto." Erik and Stuart echoed. Christine drank a little wine and placed her glass back on the table.

"The countess had an amazing voice."

"She trained in London. She's had a lot of experience in theatre." Erik replied. Christine smiled.

"Is she the Prima Donna?"

"Oh, yes. A very stereotypical actress. She takes a firm hand to keep her in line."

They spoke at great length about the opera and the performers. It was getting rather late when Christine finally noticed the time and the fact that they were the last of the people that had been in the bar.

"I'll bring the car around." Stuart said as they ascended to the foyer. Erik stepped in.

"I brought mine; I may as well take Christine home."

"That makes sense." Christine agreed, "Otherwise you'll be going four miles out of your way just to take me."

Stuart would have liked to argue. But he couldn't fight the obvious logic. Instead he kissed Christine, a little possessively in Erik's eyes, and wished them both a goodnight. Christine followed Erik to his car, a sleek black Jaguar. They were back at Gaston Place within a few minutes in the powerful car.

Once outside their apartments, Erik looked down at Christine.

"Thank you for coming tonight."

"Thank you for giving me the tickets." Christine smiled. Erik lifted an eyebrow.

"I'll let you get to bed."

"Hmm. See you tomorrow?"

"I have no doubt of it." Erik murmured and, to her surprise, lifted her hand to his lips and planted the lightest of kisses upon it before going into his apartment.

A/N: OK, I lied. Here's the next chapter. It's all your fault, you know! You all leave lovely reviews that make me want to write when I just haven't got the time to!

Oh, I don't mean it really. And thank you for the sympathy about my hair. It's looking a little better. It's just this insanely short bob. But the electric blue highlights are still awesome, lol. And for everyone who says they're too sacred to try anything with their hair - just do it! Remember, chances are it'll look fantastic. And if not, just remember that hairs gros and you'll be able to alugh about it in future years.


And yes, I know that you're all wanting Erik/Christine moments but… there are further obstacles. Quite a few of them. Hee hee. I'll try and get another chapter up before Christmas, but no promises. I'm working late tomorrow night and all day on Saturday. We have a sale on. Shoes. Lots of shoes. I'm starting to hate shoes.

Love

Katie