Disclaimer: I own only the storyline and the unaffiliated characters. POTO does not belong to me. Thank you for all of your inspiring, detailed, and just plain wonderful reviews!

cookies n' hugs

Lee


Axis

Christine

"Hello?" Christine asked breathlessly, having raced from her room to the kitchen to answer the insistently ringing phone.

Raoul's cheery voice came. "Hey, Chris. Run a marathon?"

She smiled wryly. "Very funny. I was at the other end of the apartment when the phone rang."

He sounded as though he was trying not to laugh. "I see. Well, I was calling to see if you had any time on your hands."

"You know, I think I do." Christine replied warmly. It was hard to resist when he gave her that appealing charm.

Raoul's voice brightened noticeably. "Great! I'll pick you up in twenty minutes, then?"

Christine glanced at the clock. "Sounds good."

"See you then, Chris."

She half-smiled. "See you." She sighed and put the phone back in its cradle.

Just what am I to him?

Erik

Christine stood by the phone, staring absently into space. Her eyes were faraway, her brows contracted slightly. She looked mildly concerned, unsettled.

"Christine?"

She blinked, then turned to look at him. "I'm sorry. I was a little out of it there. Did you need something?"

He shrugged. "I take it then, that that was not Nadir and that his flight did not land early?"

She shook her head. "No. Raoul just called to see if I was free."

"And?"

She seemed preoccupied, running a hand through her hair distractedly. "I told him yes; he said he'd be over soon." Her eyes widened. "Erik, you weren't going to ask if I wanted a singing lesson, were you?" Christine's hand flew to her mouth. "I'm so sorry, I should have thought of that before... I could always call him back if..." she trailed off worriedly.

Erik felt a twang of disappointment. She gave him an apologetic smile, and to her credit, she did seem genuinely upset. "It's perfectly all right, Christine."

Her shoulders dropped as she relaxed. "Thanks." She looked up at him, eyes relieved and regretful. "I really am sorry."

He gave her a faint smile. "There's no need to apologize, Christine."

She paused, smiled back with a trace of anxiety. "Thank you. I'm sorry, but I need to go and..."

Erik nodded. "Get ready?"

She laughed breathily. He detected a note of uncertainty in it. "Yeah." She brushed past him. "Maybe we can reschedule to tonight?" She looked at him over her shoulder.

He inclined his head. "If you like."

A smile spread across her face. "I would. Thank you again."

He saw the smile fade from her face as she turned away. A faint whisper came floating back to him as she walked up the hall.

"I don't know what I'm doing."

Christine

"I don't know what I'm doing." she said under her breath. The look of disappointment on Erik's face, well concealed, but there nonetheless. The pang of guilt it gave her to turn down his invitation.

Did she really want to go with Raoul after all? He was fun, there was mutual liking, but why did she feel like there was something that wasn't being said between them?

I'll find out today. I'll find out just what it is that's bothering me about this.

Raoul

She seemed a bit quiet when he picked her up, quiet even for her. He caught her giving him odd, sidelong glances. Her nervous demeanor remained past lunch, even as they walked into his apartment. She didn't even shiver in the sudden blast of the air conditioning.

What's bothering her?

"Christine?" he asked.

She looked up at him, almost startled. "Yes?"

He studied her face, the worried eyes, tense mouth. "What's wrong?"

Christine turned away, looking at the photos on the mantel. "It's nothing... I just... Raoul, who is that?"

He blinked at the non sequitor and looked to where she was pointing.

Dark eyes smiled back at him.

Raoul looked back to Christine, who was watching him almost carefully. "Her name was Dawn."

Her eyes widened. "Oh. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked, it was rude of me-"

He smiled, shook his head. "It's all right, Christine. I've come to terms with it."

Christine looked back to the photo. "You and she were... close?"

Raoul glanced at the photo, the brilliant, laughing smile. "We were high school sweethearts. We met junior year at her uncle's ski lodge, stayed together until freshmen year in college. That was the year she..." he stopped. He felt suddenly as though he had become part of another world- a world of memories.

Christine's brows contracted. "I'm sorry, Raoul. I shouldn't have asked." Her arms encircled him briefly, in apology.

He caught her as she began to pull away. "It's all right, Christine. It... feels better to talk about it, if you want to know." Her warmth against him was oddly reassuring.

The same light of compassion sparked in her eyes. "Only if you want to tell."

He inhaled deeply, let it out, smiled faintly. "We were together for three years. If you asked me if we'd been in love, I'd have to say yes. She was... well, she was amazing. Compassionate, intelligent, funny." Christine looked up at him solemnly, eyes sympathetic.

He continued. "It was that winter that she- had an accident. She loved to snowboard; it was something that we did together whenever we had a chance. She'd been snowboarding since she could walk.'

'Her board caught while she was three-quarters up the slope. She fell. She broke her neck."

"I'm so sorry, Raoul." Christine's eyes were dark, endless, radiant with the compassionate light that hers had once had. He felt her arms tighten briefly around him in sympathy, then she released him.

He pushed aside the emotions the memories and the touch had stirred, smiled. "So what about you, Christine? Any old flames?" he asked lightly, attempting to steer the conversation back to normalcy. Back to the present, where he need not think about the past.

She smiled wryly, not seeming to notice his discomfort. "One. When I was sixteen. He and I split when he wanted to go out with another girl."

"I'm sorry." He reached out and hugged her shoulders. "That guy was an idiot, you know."

She laughed, moved away a little. "It's all right. If he didn't care enough to stay with me, he wasn't worth my time. That's... what Dad told me anyway."

Raoul smiled. "A very wise man, your father." Then his eyes became intent on hers, his voice softer. "What if he had cared enough to stay with you?"

Her eyes flicked down and away, searching the room as though she hoped to find the answer somewhere on the walls. Her eyes passed over the clock, she paused. "I think I'd better be getting back."

Too soon. Raoul realized. Now you've upset her. He gave her a reassuring smile, hoping to relax her once more. "That's probably a good idea, Chris." She shrugged and did not meet his eyes.

Christine

A complex swirling spun at her core, a vortex in which she could see the smiling photos of Dawn, Raoul's intent face, memories in the hazel depths.

Dawn. There was something about the girl that Christine could not quite put her finger on. A dark-eyed, vibrant young woman, laughing at the camera. Her pale face flushed with joy, eyes sparkling, curly hair flying in a snow-laden wind. Carefree, lively eyes, glinting in the bright sunlight.

The way Raoul had changed the subject so suddenly, even though he insisted he was comfortable telling her all of this. His relief when she allowed it to happen, almost palpable. As though he dared not think of her for too long, had to concentrate on someone's problems other than his own. His reaction to her teenage breakup.

"What if he had cared enough to stay with you?"

She did not quite remember saying goodbye to him, caught up as she was in her own thoughts. She paused in the antechamber of her home to think. What had he meant by that?

Surely he didn't like her that way. She hadn't given him any signals of that nature, hadn't promised anything, verbally or otherwise, beyond friendship. Surely he hadn't thought of her in those terms? Didn't he know she didn't have any feelings for him beyond friendship?

Surely he doesn't mean...

Nevertheless, it had been a pretty broad hint, at least to her mind. Christine ran a hand through her hair. Maybe I'm misinterpreting what he said. Maybe I'm overreacting. I'll think about this later. I can't right now. If I'm wrong, I could completely ruin what was nothing more than a good friendship.

But if you're right...? inquired a small voice in the back of her head. She shoved that thought away, flinching from the uncertainty it stirred. Oh, if only this were night. If only this were night and her Angel of Music was with her, his voice washing away all of her fears. If only this were a dream she had woken from and she could reach out a hand for her Angel. If only...

Christine massaged her aching temples. Her head pounded with the force of her thoughts. God, I need coffee. I need something to clear my head.

She looked up as she heard footsteps.

Erik eyed her with mild concern. "Are you all right, Christine?"

She forced a smile. He doesn't need to hear a teen angst, Christine. Don't go spilling all your problems on him. "Just a headache."

"You know," she said, reviving five minutes later over a cup of fragrantly steaming coffee. "I've lived here for over a week and I still know next to nothing about you." How strange, she'd never thought of it before.

He raised an eyebrow, appearing amused. "What are you suggesting, Christine? A game of twenty questions?"

She laughed. "Oh, I'm sure I'd go above twenty!"

His lips curved faintly. "That interesting, am I?"

She returned the gesture. "You, sir, are an enigma. I'll make you a deal- quid pro quo? Anything but embarrassing childhood anecdotes."

"Heavens." he replied lightly, eyes gleaming. "You've foiled my cunning plot."

Christine laughed. "If I've managed to throw you off balance, I know I've done well. May I ask the first question?"

He sipped at his coffee. "By all means."

"What is it exactly that you do?"

"You do go straight to the point, don't you?" He looked distinctly amused at her admittedly personal question. "I am an architect and a composer. The majority of my musical works are operas."

A sudden understanding blossomed in her as she recalled the figure by the piano, the music in the night. "Then that's why you play so well?"

Erik smiled slightly. "I suppose. That's two questions, Christine."

She sighed. "All right. Your turn."

"The song you most love to sing."

She flushed. "You'll laugh."

The blue eyes were solemn. "I promise you, I won't."

"It was a piece I found one day at the house." Christine smiled reminiscently. "It doesn't sound anything like what a teenager would enjoy."

"Well then, what is it?" Erik asked.

Christine looked down. "The Angel of Music."

Glancing up, she saw his eyes gleam, his lips curve. "You are laughing at me." she accused.

Erik smiled and shook his head. "Not for the reasons you think, Christine. Did you ever find out who wrote it?"

She shook her head. "Never." Christine looked back at him quizzically. "What was your other question?" Since I can't embarrass myself any more than I already have.

"What would you like for dinner?"

She blinked. "What?"

Erik's lips twitched as he explained patiently. "I'm offering to make dinner. It's only fair, how many nights have you done it now?"

"But-"

"What would you like?" he repeated as she protested weakly. "I am more than capable, Christine. I promise you, I will not burn down the apartment."

She smiled weakly. "Pasta would be fine."

"Pasta it is. Go relax, Christine. You look tired."

"Gee, thanks." Christine made a face at him on her way out. Then she leaned back to peer around the doorway. "You're sure you won't burn the kitchen down?"

A faint smile hovered in his eyes. "Would it be such a tragedy if I did? Nadir has such appalling taste in wallpaper."

Christine laughed. "I think painting over it is a better alternative to torching it, myself. A lot less mess." She saw him shake his head as she left the room, repressing a smile.

Erik

He heard her footsteps fade away down the hall, smiled to himself. The Angel of Music, Christine? He hadn't seen that one coming.

He wondered idly what she would think, if she knew who had written it.

Then his thoughts shifted. To her face when she had come in, the smile that had not reached her weary eyes. What had happened in that meeting with the boy, that took the spark from her autumnal eyes? Made them glazed and frozen, turned inward. What was it that brought her face to such remote stillness when she returned? That rendered the lively, angelic voice lifeless and dull?

He wouldn't be...

No. Nadir trusted him, and, whatever Erik's personal distaste for the boy, Nadir's word ought to be good enough for him.

So what was it then? He drummed his fingers on the counter. Could he have insulted her unintentionally? It was probable, he could certainly be tactless enough at times. And she's just polite enough to smile and take it. Poor girl.

"Hi." Her voice sounded a great deal more relaxed. He turned.

"You're just in time."

She smiled slightly, brushing back the hair that fell around her shoulders. "Convenient how that works out." She surveyed the room. "I see the kitchen is still intact."

A corner of his mouth lifted. "O ye of little faith."

She went about setting the table. "Consider me converted hereafter." She stretched, could not quite reach the top shelf. And sighed in frustration.

He leaned over and handed her the plates from the shelf. She gave him a look that was half exasperation, half wry humor. "Do you realize how irritating that is?"

"Would you prefer a stepladder?" he inquired.

She winced. "Thank you, no. My pride is bruised enough as it is."

"Height is nothing to be ashamed of, Christine." he said lightly.

She scowled up at him. "So you say."

Erik smiled slightly. "I don't believe this is an argument I'll ever win with you."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Nor should you try."

Christine

"You know," she said ten minutes later, feeling pleasantly full. "That was quite lovely."

"I try."

She laughed. "Is there-"

The phone rang. Christine jumped, slid from her chair. "I've got it. Hello?"

"Christine. How are things back at home?"

Christine felt her face break out into a smile. "Things are just fine, Uncle Nadir. How are you?"

"I've had better meetings." Nadir said, voice laden with irony. "Have you had a music lesson yet, Christine?"

She smiled and looked over to Erik. "Let me ask."