A/N: -gasp- An update! Well, I have been damned busy with my school play, The Importance of Being Earnest (it closes today!) and haven't had ten seconds to get on fanfiction. For those of you who have never been involved with theatre, I have been having 17-hour days for the past two weeks, and I am wiped out.

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Chapter 3—Charcoal and Memories

Erik shut the secret door after Chrissy had left him and leaned against it for a moment, depressed that she had gone. He touched his lips where she had kissed him one last time before departing. They had made another lesson appointment for Monday, and he couldn't wait. His legs carried him back down to his home, where he sat at his desk and dug out a sheaf of parchment.

He began to complete the partially finished picture. He had nearly thrown it away, believing at the time that his chosen pose was ludicrous. It was a drawing of Chrissy and him, pressed together in a fervent kiss. Due to their closeness and his medium of charcoal, their bodies were almost indistinguishable. His hands worked swiftly, shading her closed eyes and her soft lips claiming his. He sang to himself as he worked.

"Shamed into solitude, shunned by the multitude,

I learned to listen! In the dark, my heart heard music!

I longed to teach the world, rise up and reach the world,

No one would listen. I alone could hear the music.

Then, at last, a voice in the gloom seemed to cry, 'I hear you!

I hear your fears, your torment and your tears!'

She saw my loneliness, shared in my emptiness!

No one would listen—no one but her heard as the outcast hears!"

Satisfied with his work, he propped the drawing up against the wall and gazed at it fondly.

"No one would listen—no one but her heard as the outcast hears!"

"Erik!" He froze. He knew that voice…

He slowly turned and saw her. It had been less than three years since they had parted, but she seemed to have aged considerably. Her hair, once long, deep brown, and full, was cropped close to her earlobes, and becoming prematurely gray and thin. At five feet ten inches tall, she was nearly of a height with Erik, but her long neck, bony legs, and large, arched nose gave the impression of a stork. Her glaring gray eyes accused him, and he nearly winced, feeling as though they were boring straight into his thoughts. How was it that he had once loved her? He swallowed nervously.

"Danielle. How good to see you again."

"Truly?" She stalked toward him. "And where have you been these past three years?"

He gestured to the area around them. "Here."

"Working on your artistry skills, I see," she said, glaring in disdain at the picture he'd just finished. He looked away guiltily. "And who is she?"

"My student," he replied. "No one of importance to you."

"And yet of greatest importance to you, apparently!" she retorted, reaching over and snatching the page. "Am I assuming correctly that this actually happened?"

He grabbed it back and smoothed it out. "What is it to you?"

She put her hands on her hips and pouted at him. "I thought you loved me."

Drama queen, he thought. Aloud, he said, "I am not a boy anymore, Danielle. It was true, I loved you, but then when you left, I looked to new options."

"A childish, low-minded, foppish soprano?"

He whirled around again. "She is a wonderful girl who has been through more than you can imagine. You leave her alone!"

The look in her eyes became accusing and dangerous once more. "And is she a better student than I was?"

Yes, said his mind. His traitor mouth said, "She is well enough, but none could match your beauty, Danielle." He did not want to anger her, so he rose and bowed submissively before her, catching her hand and brushing it with his lips.

"That's it? A kiss on the hand is all I get?"

He looked up, trying to ignore his mental replies. "I just thought…after such separation… it would be only proper…"

"You never loved me!" she moaned, pouting again.

"Of course I did," he said benignly.

"Then kiss me, Erik, if you ever loved me!"

He shuddered inwardly, but cupped her chin in his hand and kissed her briefly. "There, now, do you still think I hate you?"

"Yes," she muttered. He sighed and sat back down again, his head in his hand.

"Danielle, I'm doing my best. I haven't seen you in three years. We have changed enormously—done other things, seen other sights, met other people. You cannot tell me you saw no one else over these years." He looked up at her, and her frown deepened. "I shall say it once again—I did love you when I was eighteen. Now I am twenty-one, and I have met Chrissy. It is not a crime to change your feelings, as far as relationships are concerned. We sang a brief harmony together, but it has faded. I still like you, but not as much as I love her."

He folded his hands and rested his chin on them, giving her the chance to think over what he'd said. She didn't appear to want to, however, and after spitting several curses at him, turned abruptly away and stalked off into the shadows.

"Just don't blame me," he called after her.

--

He was right, curse him. She had even been engaged over the time they'd been apart. In fact, most of the reason why she'd come back had been because her fiancé had been abusive. She had been stupid to believe that he would still want her after all this time.

Unlike Erik, Danielle did not hate modern technology. The trap she was setting up now was set off by laser sensors, and could be activated by satellite. As she set it up, she thought about just how much she hated Erik's new—she hated to even think the word— lover. God only knew what they had done together. She tried not to imagine. Then again, she thought, the girl was quite young. Young enough, she hoped, to fall into this trap.

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