A/N: I've already said this in the past several chapters, but I have completely re-written everything from chapters 17 to 20. Go on back to chapter 17 now, and re-read them all before you read this one; otherwise you won't know all the fun things that Gerard and Erik got up to, while Christine was busy breaking up with Philippe. Go on, now; I'll wait right here for you to finish.
Ah, welcome back! I take it you've finished reading all the changes? Good. Here's your new (well, old, really) chapter. And before you cuss me out for recycling it, let me say that chapter 22 should be up by tomorrow and it will be all new and have a lot of fluff in it. Enjoy!
Erik got to the ballroom just as Philippe and Christine were coming down. Gerard was nowhere in sight.
"Maestro!" Christine greeted, as she left Philippe and took Erik's hand. She leaned close to him and whispered, "I told him about you, Erik, and he has agreed not to pursue me anymore. May I introduce you?"
Erik hesitated a split second, and then nodded. "Hope you don't expect me to be affable," he muttered.
Christine grinned. "No, just polite."
"I can manage polite. No mention of where I live, though," he warned.
Christine shook her head. "Of course not!" She called Philippe over. "Philippe, I would like you to meet my voice teacher and close friend, Erik. Erik, Philippe is my dearest childhood friend; we grew up together until my father and I left his family's estate."
Gerard came out of the ballroom just in time to see the two men shaking hands warily, with a measuring grip. "Ah, Philippe, I see you've met my son," he said jovially.
Erik blinked in surprise. For information that was classified until just that afternoon, Gerard was being fairly free with it this evening!
Philippe's jaw dropped. "Your son? Gerard, I never knew you had a son!"
"Few people do, and Erik and I would prefer to keep it that way," Gerard explained.
Philippe nodded, understanding instantly: Erik must be illegitimate, acknowledged only in private. "Yes, of course, I understand." He turned to Erik. "Christine says you work here in the opera, Monsieur…" Oh, hell, what if the man carried his mother's name?
"Carrière," Erik supplied, with an edge of haughtiness. "Yes, I do. That, too, is something that few people are aware of."
"You may rely on my discretion, sir." Philippe hesitated; this man had a decidedly unfriendly air. What harm would there be to simply making conversation, though? "What is it that you do?"
Erik did not reply, and Gerard broke in. "Erik works for me, actually. He has been my personal assistant for years."
Philippe shook his head in surprise. "I never knew you had an assistant, either, Gerard!"
"I have always been a behind-the-scenes sort of man," Erik remarked coolly.
"That's an understatement," Gerard grinned. "He tends to be fairly private and anti-social, I'm afraid. He dislikes being in the public eye."
"Indeed," Erik agreed. He offered Christine his arm, laying his other hand affectionately over hers,and gave Philippe a shallow bow. "It was a pleasure making your acquaintance, monsieur. If you'll excuse us, I must speak with my father for a moment."
"Of course, sir; the honour was mine." Philippe returned the bow and watched the three of them wander away. He was forced to admit that Christine did look happy with this crimson-clad, masked man of mystery. He studied the man as he walked away; he was well-formed and broad-shouldered, taller than his father, and walked with a smoothness and grace that looked familiar, but Philippe couldn't place it.
Erik's voice was deep and quiet, but with a constrained power to it, a metallic edge that Philippe suspected could easily turn cutting. Now that he saw the man and had talked with him, he could easily picture Erik Carrière wiping the streets with Christine's attackers. He was just lucky Erik hadn't wiped the floor with him as well, after he'd found out who had hired the two brutes!
Philippe sighed. Erik was older, too; he had to be in this thirties at least, compared to Philippe's twenty-one years. Philippe had packed a lot of living into his brief adulthood, but He doubted he'd ever be able to command the attention of everyone in the room the way Erik did, just by his very presence. The man had an extremely formidable manner. No wonder Christine felt safe with him; it was obvious that he adored her as much as he intimidated everyone else.
All the same, Christine's defection was a harsh disappointment to Philippe. He really had thought she loved him as much as he loved her; to find out that she didn't was a bitter pill to swallow. He thought about going back into the ballroom and finding one or two members of the corps de ballet to ease his sorrow… but then he thought of what Christine would think if she saw him flirting with other girls, less than an hour after he'd sworn he loved her.
No, better to be alone for a while. Without really knowing where he was going, he headed towards the less populated areas of the opera, climbing stairs and going down unpopulated hallways until he finally reached a narrow staircase with a door at the top. Intrigued, he ascended the stairs (keeping a firm hand on the wall the whole way; the stairs were quite narrow) and pushed open the door.
He was on the roof.
He made his way carefully over towards the edge, peering out over the city. Paris was beautiful when seen at night from up here! The view was obstructed, though, by some of the admittedly lovely statuary on the roof. He wished he could get a clearer view.
Over there! Apollo lifted his golden lyre over his head in a gesture of worship to music; Philippe noticed that the back of the statue slanted a bit. If he were careful, maybe he could climb up onto the statue of Apollo and there enjoy an unobstructed view of Paris. It was a challenging, slippery climb, but finally he sat perched on Apollo's shoulders with nothing above him but sky. It felt curiously freeing, being so high.
He thought about his disappointment with Christine, and he was forced to reflect on the fact that she might have been more willing to entertain his suit if she hadn't already met all of his former bedmates as soon as she arrived in Paris. And maybe if she hadn't met Erik!
Philippe sat there for a long time, enjoying the peace and solitude. He didn't usually get much of either, with his whirlwind of a social life. It reminded him of when he was much younger, and was sneaking around to the country fairs with Christine and Papa Daée; he found that he liked it. He reached into his pocket for his cigar-case, lit up a cigar, and exhaled contentedly.
A/N: All right, now I think I've finally caught up with all the changes. Thanks for your patience while I rearranged the timing of certain events to better suit the plot. Please do review; I enjoy the encouragement. And for all you fluff-addicts out there, the next chapter will have more. CL the fluff-monger is back!
