AN: New Chapter, and new story. Again, much thanks to the beta-goddess Cymbidium. Hope you all like what I'm producing, and will let me know in review format hinthint

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I got nothing but soul ;)


"Again," Erik said as he played the notes anew. She closed her eyes and began to sing, allowing herself plenty of breath. The song poured out from her, and she hoped it was enough this time. She was exhausted, having been at this for almost a month. Almost a month of early mornings, of intense practice with her teacher and no sympathy from Erik. How long had it been since he'd held her familiarly? Now, it was all an excercise and stage movement. Her wound, long since healed, was no longer an excuse for tenderness.

This was a new face of Erik's. Determined and driven, but cold. When she could hit a note well, there came no praise. Instead, he'd nod his head and move on to the next lesson. He'd even been absent from school to practice with her, and to further oversee the progress of his project.

He's not even looking at me as a human being, she thought. The song died in her throat, and she stopped short. It was foolish to do so, because Erik would just work her harder for it, but she was just so tired. Why couldn't he just let her rest, or at least speak to her as more than her teacher again?

"If your throat is sore, there's more tea left." He kept playing, even though she had a grimace on her face. True, it wasn't bitter-tasting, but drinking that tea nonstop had made her averse to it. She doubted she could take another sip unless it was absolutely necessary.

"No, it's not that." Christine sighed. "I just had to stop a moment." She looked away and placed a hand at her neck, massaging it. She was tense, probably from all of the stress of this performance. The fact that he was so aloof only added to that. My head hurts.

"If your throat's not hurt, we need to continue." He'd continued to play throughout the pause, never looking back to her. Inside, he wanted to know what was bothering her, but there was no time for that now. He wanted her to be absolute perfection for that masquerade, to shine as only he'd seen she could. The ball was coming in mere days, and she had yet to really feel the music coursing through her. Though her beautiful voice had become crystaline due to practice, the words she sang felt empty. Somehow, she was not reaching that point.

"Erik, please-" she sank to her knees, clutching the folds of her long black dress, "I need a break."

"Once you're perfect," Erik responded. "Again, the chorus." In an instant he switched from the first break straight and to the beginning of the chorus. "Stand up, Christine," he shouted over the music. It compelled her to stand, and even though she hadn't the spirit for it she sang for him. Again, though her notes were finally strong, they did not thrill him. He stopped in frustration and sighed. Feeling Christine's gaze from behind him he grew annoyed.

"I've really tried, Erik." She said, feeling as though she might break. "My notes are pure now, so why-"

"It's as though you're bleating like a lamb." Erik scoffed at her excuse. The girl just didn't understand his vision, and so he wanted to injure her slightly. What he hadn't expected was the sob that escaped her. In this rushed state, even her gentle gasps for breath irritated him. "If you wish to change that fact, concentrate on what we're doing, Christine. Don't waste my time with crocodile tears."

As he was about to go back to the keys, he felt a small object hit his back. He turned, surprised, and saw she'd thrown her little sandal at him. Still in awe of her, Erik watched her huff and the tears stream across the apple of her cheek that he'd stroked only weeks ago. Now, such contact seemed to be more improper than before. Why, he wondered, would it be wrong to touch her now?

"How can you think I haven't been concentrating?" Her skin was bright pink, glowing in her frustration. "Morning, noon and night I've been practicing, I've been perfecting. You know that."

"It's important to be excellent for the gala, Christine."

"Not for me!" She seemed to only become more angry at his lack of understanding. "It isn't the people at the gala I want to impress." Impossible as it may have seemed, she became pale suddenly, and raised a hand to her lips. Why? Why is it you...

"Then why are you doing this?" He inquired. The tone of his voice bothered her with its suspicion. He picked up the shoe and stood. He approached her, calculating her. "If it's not for them, why did you agree?" Do you plan on running away after all? He walked towards her, and she took a step back, close to the wall. He raised his hands and in one swift movement had her pinned to the wall. "Why?"

"I-" She faltered, unsure of how much she understood her own feelings. But she needed to say something, that much she understood. "I want to sing."

"I thought you said it didn't matter."

"It does...but-but not for them. I don't sing for them." She looked him straight in the eye, this genius who hadn't given her a moment's peace for weeks. She knew why he was worried as she studied his face. "I'm coming back with you," she said. "That's not something you need to worry about."

"I don't worry about it," He backed off, but kept a cool exterior. "You know I'll hold you to your promise." One way or another...

"Why must you act this way?" Her horrified whisper bothered him. "Why must you make everything a threat, even now? You haven't acted like this for a while and I thought-"

"We're losing time. Your voice must be perfect. I've said so several times." He rubbed his temple with a hand. "I need your voice to be full of passion and intensity as well as exceptionally trained. So far, it's not there yet."

"My voice," she scoffed, "yes, that's a precious commodity for you, isn't it?" Why am I saying these nasty things? Why am I so jealous of my own talent? "How important is it for you?"

"Your voice is everything," he said wearily, "nothing else matters!" Again, the sharp pain from within her returned with his thougthless answer.

"You love my voice, then." She replied without emotion, holding everything within her. Erik turned in surprise, frightened by the word she'd used.

"No, you don't-"

"Yes, I do know, Erik." She spoke as if she finally understood it all, and had played the fool in his game. "It's my voice you've always wanted. The rest of me is useless to you..." she walked over to the front door and placed a hand on it. Why was this so unbearable? It was as if she could scarcely breathe without letting out her frustration. Her voice finally came after a moment, but it was faint. "You know, I heard somewhere that if you put a newborn baby in a box with no human contact for a year, then took it out, that it would never learn human language." She was trying to smile, but already the tears were flowing. He watched with horrified interest. "You're a little like that, Erik. A man who can't understand his own human heart, because you've been separated from it for so long. I think I'll mourn that for the rest of my life." Without another word, she left with quiet dignity for her room, leaving Erik to try and find a meaning to her outburst.


I've been an ass, Christine berated herself. With the door soundly closed and under her blankets, Christine cried at her own stupidity. Of course it's my voice...he'd heard it before, and he's been so interested in training me. Her hand went to her neck, where the injury had formerly been. And he worried over this because it might have damaged my precious voice.

How terrible it is to hate something you love. As Christine wept, she thought back on the whole of their interaction with new eyes. It was never me he saw. Didn't he call me his song-bird? After departing from Erik's company, the sharp pain had become only a dull ache, but it ate at her. Why was it you I wanted to impress? I must have somehow known that my voice was all you wanted, that it was never me you-

She stilled. It was never me that you loved...again, her heart wrenched. Why was it so painful to know this fact? Why was it so terrible that he had no heart? Surely, it wasn't her problem. Christine knew she had one, if only because she felt it painfully now. Then why was it harmful to her?

"Because I-"


"Erik, you must know how rude it is to leave without saying goodbye," Mrs. Giry reprimanded. Erik marvelled a moment at how she could remember a slight as if it had occurred only yesterday. "But, I'm sure this is not what you wanted to call me for." She was right. Unsure of how to proceed and utterly frustrated, Erik was driving in circles around town. Mrs. Giry, being a discrete woman and an old friend, seemed like the right person to call.

"I suppose I needed to hear a friendly voice, Mrs. Giry. I'm sorry if I'm keeping you from anything."

"No, not at all. Nadir's just taken Mado to a playdate. I'm glad you called, Erik," she confessed, "especially if something's bothering you." After that, she fell silent and waited hopefully for him.

"You're more observant than I realized, Mrs. Giry," he said with a frown. He might have to be cautious with her after all.

"Oh, I notice a thing here and there...for instance, the softness with which you played for my daughter." She sighed, hoping this would not alienate him further. "Such tenderness cannot have sprung from nowhere, Erik."

"What do you mean, Mrs. Giry?" He was worried now. Truly, how much did the older woman know?

"I believe...that a man has no use for a rose. Or a ribbon, for that matter." She heard the way his breath suddenly caught in his throat. "I won't ask for details...but perhaps your discomfort stems from that matter."

"...you're too observant," he sighed. "I'd thank you to keep this from the detective."

"Of course. What fun is there in marrying a detective if you can't have little games of intrigue now and then?" She joked.

"Very well then." Erik swerved off the road and parked. He shut off the engine, and focused only on what was transpiring between Mrs. Giry and himself.

"So, I surmise you need some advice." She mused. "Perhaps about a girl you've begun to notice?"

Her bluntness was rewarded with a loud curse. Erik placed a hand over his eyes. Everything was unravelling so suddenly. "Don't tell him, Mrs. Giry." His voice nearly growled. "Don't ever tell him."

"...Why are you so afraid?" There was no mocking tone in her voice, but her words hit their mark. "Why are you so worried that you'll be found out, that your feelings will become known?"

"...Because..." he spoke softly, without the command she'd always expected him to have, "...I can't lose her." His hands shook as he spoke to Mrs. Giry, terrified of the weight he suddenly felt lifted. "I want her with me."

The silence was not uncomfortable as the two soaked in his words. "All right," she decided, "I won't say a word to anyone. But tell me, have you told her this?"

"Of course not," he replied with a snort. "What kind of woman would have me, with everything I've done?" He sighed. "No, it's enough to have her near, to have some kind of affection from her." Even though he was being honest, Erik excluded under what circumstances the young lady in question was being held near. No, Mrs. Giry alredy knows too much of this...

"Then what do you want with her? Why keep her near, if all you do is deny yourself?" A simple enough question, she knew, but Erik had to pause. For what ends would he want her near?

"I thought...if she sang my music...if she understood my music...she'd belong to me." He hated saying this, opening up to his only confidante...but where else could he turn to? Christine was in tears for reasons he could not understand, and Mrs. Giry had been the first person he'd thought of as he drove away. "I wanted her voice to be perfect, but I've only succeeded in making her averse to me entirely."

"Perhaps the problem lies in your thinking, then. I assume she's an ordinary girl, Erik- no more, no less. It may be too much for her. Your music, I mean."

"No, not for her," he assured her. "She's anything but ordinary. Her voice is unlike anything I've ever heard. And after working so hard, it's become so clear." He sighed, recalling her note high above c. "She could sing to make every man on earth cry. That is the potential she has."

"Then,it sounds as if she's already done a great deal to be perfect for you. Personally, I'd be honored that she's put up with so much to sing for you."

"She's not singing for me, as you put it."

"Then for who? I don't think a young woman would do so much if she did not wish to, no matter her temperament." He had nothing in response to this. Instead, he focused on quelling the hope that tried to grow with every loud thud of his heartbeat.

No, he shook his head, it's not true. Don't be such a fool, Erik. He berated himself long after the conversation had ended. Still, he wanted to see her. Motivated by what he'd just said, he wanted to be near her, and see her lie open and unafraid of him once more. He drove back just as quickly as he'd driven away.


"Because I love him..."

She'd said it. Even alone, the words she heard herself say nearly caused her to faint. With a shaky gesture she brought her hand to cover her lips. What have I said? In disbelief she shook her head. What has happened to me? Dear God...I've fallen in love.

Shouldn't she have been happy, danced around and basked in the revelation? The why, as she attempted to stand, did her legs fail her? Christine could not answer this. Even if she tried to deny the words she'd just formed, she knew it was useless. They were out in the world, and had awakened the anxiety in her soul anew. They were a strange liberation she could not refuse. And yet, I wish I could...

What would this mean for them, now that the secret buried inside her had been set free?


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