A/N: Sweetness and a little surprise in this one! Thank you all for the reviews. I'm really touched people would read beyond the first couple of shaky chapters and really get into it. I appreciate the effort on your collective parts!

CH 21


Erik sat in class, mind elsewhere. Why had she been so anxious? And how could he have been so bold? He'd only meant to prove to her that she was not at all ugly. She knows nothing of ugliness... He had to agree. Even if this incident left a small white scar on her swanlike neck, she'd still be Christine. She wouldn't change because of that.

"That wraps up my lecture for today," Mr. Firmin declaring, tidying up the index cards he'd written his lecture on. He saw some students already at the door when he remembered his announcement. "Ah, just a moment. Before you all leave, I have an important announcement." He cleared his throat, trying to make his students pay attention. He noticed the odd-dark haired boy paying attention for once, and smiled. "The department of arts has finally been granted funding for their latest endeavor- the greatly anticipated Masquerade, to be held next month."

Erik heard the words, and for a moment he was no longer in class with other chattering classmates. He was at a small worktable, dimly lit, music box in front of him. Masquerade... Mr. Firmin's hissing microphone was the only thing that brought him back to reality, hurting his sensitive ears.

"The music department has found and hired the band, but, as the dance department will showcase their students, we think it's only fair that some of our students get a little recognition, too. Therefore," He picked up a stack of papers from under the podium an smiled. "The recordings you turned in will be used to determine the top five, who will be allowed to perform at the gala. What you perform, original piece or no, is up to you." He paused for emphasis. "Come forward to pick up your results."

There was a mad rush to the podium. A chance to perform at the school's gala event wasn't an everyday sort of occurrence. They hoped for it, some cursing the fact that their recording hadn't been very good at all, saying that if they'd only known...

Pathetic, he thought to himself. Erik remained seated and watched the crowd. He thought back to that recording, to the time he'd spent on the lyrics and the melody. Hadn't he written it, body and mind, for her? Then there was no doubt in his mind that he would be selected. The only question in his mind was whether that would be problematic for him. He wanted to play, to have a chance to really show this school something. There existed a music in the back of his mind, and the first drafts were locked in his desk drawer at home...and he wanted to play his instruments...his music, and Christine's voice.

Risky, he warned himself. If Nadir knew he was going to make himself known, even a little bit...but as long as he is kept in the dark...how would he discover it? Then, there was the little matter of Christine. No other voice would satisfy him for the piece, he knew, even if it was still lacking. A month to train her wasn't much...but it would be necessary, if he agreed. But I'd have to bring her here... she'd have to be brought to the ball, back to the outside world she'd given up for him. Perhaps another taste of freedom would change her mind, make her betray him again...

'I promise...'

He sighed, and noticed that the crowd ad dispersed. Mr. Firmin looked at him, and set his review on the podium for Erik before leaving. Erik stood and walked over. It's a masquerade, after all...who would take notice if she sang in costume, then disappeared into the crowd? He picked up the papers, and turned to the last page. Attached by a paperclip was a formal invitation to the gala, and a time slot.


Nadir had thankfully dismissed Raoul before allowing himself to react to the information he'd accidentally been given. The girl lives... surprise and relief set in. She's alive. That was unexpected- had Erik grown a conscience, after all? But, something nagged the detective...if Christine was alive, why had Erik rubbed out her existence? Why had Erik not said anything when he'd been so angry with him? Because he didn't want me to know, Nadir reasoned.

No, there's something not quite right about this, he mused. As much as he secretly hoped for it, there was no way Erik had suddenly grown to value human life...if Christine had done something to Erik, he could not hope for her to be alive. But then, who had Raoul de Chagny suddenly met? Whatever had happened, Nadir was determined to find out.

He turned on his computer and stretched. It appeared that the detective would be working on a little project...

Miss Daae, if you're alive, I'll find you.


Erik had left classes early. With the news, he had much to deliberate, and could not stand to be in a lecture hall while doing so. He was unsure, he knew, of how far Christine could be tempted before she'd break. This was, he knew, an excellent opportunity for them...a chance he'd probably never have again, and he wanted to take it. But there was the little matter of faith, and the fact that he could not force himself to believe his little ingenue. Who would, under the circumstances, not leave a second time?

The ringing of his cell phone annoyed him. He became even more aggravated by the name flashing on the screen. "Daroga, I thought you'd broken it off with me. Have you not learned your lesson?"

The detective sighed. "Your humor bothers me, Erik. I've broken nothing off with you, and you should know that by now. You're my responsibility."

"Wonderful," Erik replied mirthlessly, "but your sense of responsibility is nothing I've decided to shoulder as well. Now, you had something you wanted to inquire about?"

"An apology would be nice," the Daroga muttered.

"Yes, well, world peace would be nice, too, but neither of these is going to happen in the near future." Erik needed to wrap this up...the detective was tricky, and might be mixed up in his affairs too much as it stood. "Seriously, detective, why have you called me? I'm a busy student, you know."

"I know...I was just suddenly reminded of a deal you'd made with my wife. You're indebted to her for a rose, or so I'm told." The Daroga scratched his head. "Well, Madeleine's been terribly fussy at night, and I know that your playing could wake the dead if you wanted it to. What I'm curious to know is if it can put my girl to sleep." He listened quietly for his response. He'd appealed to his muscician's arrogance, and hoped it would pay off.

"Very well. I suppose there's no use avoiding it. Let me know when you want me over, and I'll play for Madeleine."

"All right." Nadir smiled to himself. A little time with Erik might help him find the answers...


Told not to practice yet, and unwilling to deal with the stirrings inside her, Christine decided to try and keep herself busy. First, she wanted to reacquaint herself with her quarters. She was more than delighted when she checked her bathroom and found bath salts of many different fragrances, and a soft bathrobe hung neatly on a hook for her. It was all so feminine, and Christine could only imagine the discomfort Erik might have had to go through for all of this. A small laugh escaped her at the notion, and she decided to finish exploring before enjoying a bath.

In her room, she looked first at the vanity, with its rose-petal potpourri and the new brush and comb set. In her top drawer, also, were new ribbons to tie up her hair with, and little vials of perfume. And next to that, she saw something that left her pale. In a clear box, sitting atop a little black cushion, was the blood red rose. The very first he'd given her. Recovering her senses, she pulled it out and set it on the vanity table. It was encapsulated, and perfectly preserved. A reminder that will last forever... She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Instead, she simply blushed. When had he become so kind? It couldn't all be gratitude, could it? She clutched a hand to her chest.

And why am I hoping it's not simply that? She sighed, snapping herself out of her reverie. "What a silly girl I've grown to be, father." She set her head down on the vanity, and turned it to see the rose. "I can't even understand myself...how am I supposed to understand his actions?"

'When I am in heaven, child, I shall send you the Angel of Music..' Yes, he'd said that, but what was Christine supposed to do once she thought she'd found him? This was all confusing to her, but deep inside, she hoped that their odd friendship was growing. When she'd made that promise, she'd made it with the blind faith that someday he'd open that door for her of his own free will, and know that she'd return to him again and again. Because we're friends... she reminded herself. She took one more look around. And as his friend, I should do something nice for him as well...


Without any real resolution to his issues, Erik headed home. He could take comfort in watching Christine as she read or played the piano. The matter at hand seemed less important than sharing a meal with her before going over to Mrs. Giry's. It would possibly even put him in a better mood. He parked his car in the lot, and treked to his apartment slowly. He wondered how much of the complex she'd taken in, when she'd been rushed in and as she'd run away and returned. Had she met anyone on the street, at that time? Not that it mattered- in his world, only the two of them existed. Beyond the sanctuary he'd created for himself, only the school grounds and Mrs. Giry's family mattered.

But the ball could ruin all of that, he reminded himself. Why, if she had promised, could he not trust her for a few hours? This was a chance he'd never have again. His pact with the Daroga made damn sure of that. He thought of it breifly, of the ball and Christine. He could see her smile for him, then disappear behind dancing couples. As much as he wanted this, he wanted Christine with him more.

Resigned, he reached his door. Slowly he unlocked it, and stepped into his appartment. After he locked it again and shrugged off his coat, Erik became aware of the aroma permeating his apartment. He walked quickly out into the den, Christine wasn't there. Is she..?

"Erik?" He turned and saw Christine smiling at him. She was wearing one of his white aprons, and had a ladle in hand. Her hair was tied up and away from her face, showing more of her creamy skin. As he gawked, she smoothed her apron. "Welcome back."

"What's that in your hand?" He was somewhat amused when she looked down and realized she'd brought the ladle with her to greet him. She hid it behind her back and looked away for a moment.

"I made dinner tonight. Granted, it's just stew and rolls, but I thought it might do." In her head, she wondered if this was such a good idea. Erik was quite a good cook and she was a bit unused to using his kitchen. When he walked past her to the kitchen, she couldn't allow herself to be flustered. She rushed to see him take in her presentation.

"I could have at least set the table, Christine," he said as she walked forward. She smiled in relief.

"No, I wanted to do something nice for you," she explained as she served the meal. "I mean, it was very kind for you to go to such trouble for me. I wanted to thank you somehow."

She doesn't understand why I did everything, then, he thought. Well, wasn't that better? This way, she still smiled for him, and didn't think of herself as a captive.

"Do you not like it?" Christine watched him as se sat down. He hadn't picked up his spoon yet. Even while she prayed over her supper, he'd sometimes fiddle with the silverware. Now he was just watching her, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. Seeing him pick up the spoon and taste the stew raised her spirits though, and she also began to eat.

"I didn't know you could cook," Erik said as he took a roll. She laughed softly.

"I don't know how to cook many things, but I try." She herself took a roll and put it on her plate.

"It's good." His comment was so quiet that she could scarcely hear it, but it brought a wide grin to her face. She was content with him just eating it, but his praise, given so seldomly to her, felt wonderful. They ate at their table, glancing at each other between bites.

"So...," She cleared her throat slightly and tried to find something to talk about that wouldn't fluster her, "you came home a little early, didn't you?"

"Yes, I left the grounds early," he sounded weary, as if being away had taken a toll on him. She cocked her head to the side and kept her gaze on him.

"Are you all right, Erik? You seem a little tired." He shook his head at her idea.

"A little, I suppose, but I have to go back out later tonight. Since we can't resume your lessons until you're better..." he stopped there when he saw her retreat just a little into herself. He remained silent, waiting for her to gather herself and say something.

"But," she said quietly, putting down her spoon. "When you're gone, all I have is my voice..." She sighed, "I'll lose my mind if I can't start seriously practicing soon." She knew she was pouting like a child, and she hated being this way in front of him, but she just had to be honest. As long as she remained here, Erik and music were her only sources of companionship.

"Do you feel ready to begin, then?" He said with a kind of eagerness she had not expected. She nodded her head.

"Yes, I want to take up my lessons again." She stood and picked up her dishes. As she set them in the sink, she heard Erik stand, too. Quickly she left the dishes, sure that Erik was going to the piano. Once in the den, however, she heard no music. Instead Erik held something in his hands. He watched her emotionlessly as she came up to him. "Erik?"

Erik could hear his better judgement scream at him as he held out the invitation to her, but he remained firm. I want to do this, he decided. When he saw her face lit with yearning, looking up with a brilliant smile, he hoped he was doing the right thing.

"The gala, Erik? They're finally having it?" Her excited voice was contagious, and Erik gave a little nod. She noticed the little card attached and read on, confusion marked in her brow. "But what is this time written on here?"

"That's when I'll get to perform at the Masquerade." Her big eyes widened as he'd never seen them. She looked at him in awe for a moment. Yes, she'd known he was an excellent musician, but this was a great honor! He kept his eyes on her to steady his nerves. "I want you to perform alongside me."

She trembled a moment, and she dropped the invitation. For a moment she was dumb, unable to comprehend his actions. "W-why?" She managed to stutter.

"Because you're my protege." He answered simply. He bent and picked up the card. "It will be difficult- you still have much vocal training to do, and I'll be hard on you- but if you want to do it..." Erik left off there, sure that he'd made his point. It was all up to Christine, who by now was recovering from her surprise.

"Erik," she began slowly, a little uncertain of how to phrase her confusion. "You... would take me outside?"

"In a disguise," he explained quickly. He couldn't, would not, lie to her. He brought his hand to her chin, and their eyes met. "Will you promise to return with me?" His heart beat fast. Yes, she'd promised before, but he needed to hear it again before allowing this to happen. "Promise, Christine."

"Erik," she could have easily lost her thoughts just by looking at those eyes, demanding and hopeful. Even if only for a night, he was going to trust her. She'd earn it with practice and patience, but it was a vast improvement. Her hand found his, and smiled. "I won't run away. I promise I won't."

That was all he needed to hear for now. Erik wanted to believe her. Inwardly he sighed. Let my opera begin..."Then you willsing beside me at the masquerade."


A/N: Masquerade's coming, but first a little quality time for Erik with Nadir...review and wait for the next chapter!