A/N: Again, thanks to my awesome beta-reader Cymbidium. This will be a really good pivot chapter! Thanks to the reviewers and diehards who really want this story to progress- you guys rock!

Small, possibly sad announcement: My schedule has become hectic, so my updates might become a wee sporadic/sparse as a consequence. No worries, though. I'm not abandoning the story.

Disclaimer: Own nothing.

Paradise Lost - Chapter 23


They had less than a month in which to prepare for the Masquerade. Plans had to be drawn, costumes designed, and the music had yet to be completed. And above all, Christine's voice had to greatly improve, and very quickly. Erik was very aware of the preparation involved and so began their joint project the very next night. He began by serenading Christine.

In the quiet comfort of his own bedroom, he pulled out the score and sat at his desk. He tapped a pen in time as he reviewed his work, trying to think only of his music. In his imagination, he clearly heard the smooth strains of violins. Begin with violins, he thought to himself, violins building, and then my voice. He imagined it playing out like a small opera. Perhaps his ideas would be too much for such a small performance, but he realized that there would most likely never be another chance. This had to be it, and it had to be perfect. He would pour out all of his passion, his desire, and his vision into this work.

But what of Christine? She'd progressed beautifully from their nightly duets and lessons, but for this role, she had to be Perfection. His tapping stopped as he thought of her. Yes, he was going to return her to the outside world, and he would make everyone take note and remember the strange and beautiful angel he'd molded. Her haunting voice would remain in their collective memories long after he'd taken her back into the darkness. His Christine and his Aminta...in one combined.


"Honestly, to leave without saying anything was rude, even for Erik." Mrs. Giry poured another cup of tea for her husband as she continued to huff. A small smile spread upon her features, though, as she reveled in the silence that enveloped the house. "But we'll have a full night's sleep if we play our cards right, Nadir."

"Hm," he grunted in agreement as he drank his tea. Actually, his thoughts were not on his sleeping baby, although he appreciated her silence. Instead, he was busy thinking of the boy Erik had been ten years ago. What was happening now was not completely clear to Nadir yet – Erik's motives, and the link between him and Christine. He found that it still eluded him, but not for long.

Mrs. Giry also thought of Erik as she sipped her tea. She thought of him as a boy when she had been his tutor. How? How can a heart that feed only on despair play with such sweetness? She smiled to herself again. A theory had been growing, along with her hope for Erik, and now she felt fairly certain that someone was with Erik, doing more for him than either she or Nadir could. She thought it was wonderful, but also somewhat sad. But such things must happen, she reminded herself, when a boy is growing into a man.


Morning came quickly for Christine, but as she yawned and got up from bed she was filled with excitement. This was Day One of her training with Erik, and she had no idea what to expect from her strange friend. She'd hardly expected last night's late-night serenade, but he had played for her long into the night. How long had she listened before she finally fell asleep? For all she knew, it really could have been all night.

Figuring that she was up earlier than usual, Christine decided to take a quick shower and dress before breakfast. She opened her closet and picked out the day's clothes and then hurried off to the bathroom.


Erik sat at the piano in the den, completely unaware of anything but his finished score. And yet, not quite finished... His hands wandered over the keys and he thought for a moment before he closed his eyes and imagined the lyrics he would sing. In his mind's eye, beautiful words had formed, and if he believed in the existence of his own soul, he knew that these would be its words.
Christine emerged from her morning shower wearing a pale blue skirt and a white blouse as she went about towel drying her hair. The bandage at her neck had been carefully peeled off, but she knew she'd need Erik's kit soon. But as she stepped into the den, she forgot all of that. He was playing so softly, she could hardly hear the piano. Instead, her entire attention was focused on his song. His rich voice played over the music, his focus complete. She listened, and she felt herself grow warm with what he was playing. Why these lyrics? She had dropped her towel and leaned against the wall, and she listened as if her legs would fail her.

The words he sang were not elaborate, but were sung slowly and deliberately with a subtle intensity. Christine pressed a hand to her heart as she listened to the lyrics, and she swore she could hear her heart pounding. Really, Erik? Anywhere? When she felt hot tears sting her eyes, she turned back to the safety of her room.

"Christine?"

She heard him call her, and gasped. Drying her eyes quickly with the back of hr hand, she turned to see him standing. He was still in the same clothes as yesterday, and he looked a little disheveled. He must have caught something in her expression to betray her because he walked over to her quickly.

"Are you all right?" he asked as he brought a hand up to her cheek and examined her neck. His slight touch shocked her, and she turned away.

"I'm...I'm fine, Erik. I was about to ask you for another bandage and some ointment for this." She motioned to her neck, trying to keep her mind from going blank. "Have you been up all night?"

"I was finishing the score," he murmured, somewhat confused by her odd behavior. She hadn't even smiled at him this morning. Had she fallen ill again?

"Shouldn't you get some rest then?" she asked. She sounded worried, but she still hadn't turned to face him. "You might get sick like this."

"It's you I'm worried about, Christine," he said softly, and she felt as though she couldn't get enough air. Her lungs seemed to have stopped working as he gently placed a hand on her shoulder. Do you mean that, Erik? "If you get sick, we'll lose valuable rehearsal time. Take care of your voice, Christine."

It was as though he were scolding her for her shakiness, and Christine felt foolish under his gaze. She nodded her head and turned, determined to smile anyway.

"Was that the finished score I just heard?" she asked, changing the subject perhaps a little too quickly, but Erik didn't seem to mind.

"No, it's not part of the piece we'll be performing."

"It's finished then?"

"It's done if you'd like to look it over later, but right now let's take care of your injury." He led her to the sofa and went to retrieve the kit. Christine watched him go, trying to control her feelings of disappointment.

Then why did you play it? Christine thought.

She scolded herself for her sudden interest. There was work to be done and Erik wanted her to greatly improve before the gala. And I did promise to work hard... She moved her hair to one side as he prepared to re-dress her wound.

It began with scales. Erik played a note and Christine sang. She thought she'd done well enough, but when she'd ended, Erik's face was set in a grim line. He looked away from her and back to his score. "Am I very off?"

"At least your injury isn't affecting your voice," he said absently, avoiding her question. He played a few notes from his music, lost in thought.

"But, haven't I improved? I've been practicing with you for some time now..."

"Your voice isn't strong enough to hit the high notes you'll need to reach." He stopped playing and seemed to be lost in thought. She felt like she'd let him down. "But it's not impossible. We'll have to begin training immediately." He stood and turned to her. "Turn around."

"Erik?" She was unsure of what he was doing, and was a little hesitant.

"Relax your breathing and turn around." He took a commanding tone, giving her no choice but to do as he'd asked. She turned and felt a hand at her back, then another at her abdomen. She gasped, and stiffened automatically. "That's not relaxed, Christine," he admonished. When she was finally able to relax, he continued. "Sing."

"Sing what?"

"Anything." He paid attention to how she took air into her lungs as she sang from The Magic Flute. As he'd suspected, her breathing was not as deep and lasting as a diva's ought to be. It was also a factor in her inability to hit the high notes flawlessly. He realized she'd stopped and was looking back at him. He released her quickly and turned back to the piano.

"The music is sound, and the lyrics will be soon enough. Although we're not working on your voice just yet, study the music itself. When we finally put your voice with the music, you'll be very familiar with the melody." He backed away from her and went back to the music.

"Are you regretting it?" she asked quietly, a little afraid of his answer.

"Regretting what?" He hit a few more notes.

"If I fail on the stage...if I can't sing..." Christine looked at his back, hoping he'd reassure her as he always had. She needed him to.

"If you fail, it won't be your fault," he said softly, still not looking back. "It'll be mine for choosing you."

He continued to play, never missing a beat as Christine felt her heart break for the first time in her life. She didn't understand what it was that pained her yet, other than the hurt she felt at his words. But as the tears threatened to return, she bit the inside of her cheek until they subsided.

I won't let you say you regret choosing me!


A/N: Is Erik really so shallow? What words did he sing, to strike her heart so? Review and read the next installment!