Disclaimer: I own Adrien and Isabella… not PotO.

Chapter VI – The Dress

Isabella hurried back to him, wondering if he had found a skirt or dress or just something a man would wear, in her size. After all, seeing as how only Adrien and Erik lived down here, there was no reason to have women's clothing. She gasped when she saw the rack of dresses along the back wall.

"Oh, Adrien, where did all these come from?" she gave him a disbelieving look, as if this was all a hallucination. Adrien hesitated. "Actually, I don't know," he confessed. "I was looking for something for you… I never knew these were here."

"Are you sure you two are the only people who live down here?" She knew this question must be getting annoying, but she didn't care.

Adrien was trying to piece everything together. "Isabella, I am 200 certain no-one else lives here," he snapped. He traced the embroidery of one intricate design. "But… Erik… ah mon Dieu…" "What?" Isabella asked. She was not ignorant of French expressions. "What is it?"

He spoke quickly, still putting things together. "Erik… Erik always loved her… always… He must have bought these for her. These were Christine's… Wait!"

Isabella had gone to take one off the rack, but backed away to let him examine them. Adrien found the left sleeve of the dress Isabella was looking at and pulled a small tag gently into the light. "What does it say?" She read over his shoulder:

1000 francs

Worn January 29

Opera House burning

Christine Daae

1882

"1000 francs? And he bought this for her?" said Isabella in disbelief. "He was paid 20,000 francs a month for around 40 years," Adrien shrugged. Isabella seized another tag. "Adrien, look at this one:

1350 francs

Worn October 18

Hannibal gala

Christine Daae

1881

"This is beautiful!" she cried. "Isabella, these are all gorgeous," Adrien agreed. "But I'm not sure Erik would like seeing you in something he bought for Christine. Not that it wouldn't look stunning," he added hastily, seeing the expression of disappointment on her face.

They heard a door slam, and Erik appeared through the racks, a look of utmost anger on his face at the gown in Isabella's arms.

French: Ah mon Dieu: OMG