I hope everyone is having a good weekend!

Here's a little Memorial Day gift!

-Nico

"Watch your step," Erik warned a much calmer Christine, who was walking wide-eyed behind Erik. "The ground is extremely uneven."

"I had no idea these passageways were even down here," Christine said. "How did you know about them?"

Erik smiled inwardly. "I suppose I've always been curious about what I could not see," he said cryptically. Christine looked up at him in confusion. "Firmin and Andre mentioned that the crypts of the Opera Populaire were once used for storage," he lied. "After hearing that, I had to explore."

"Looking for anything musical, no doubt," Christine teased, knowing how reverently Erik held anything having to do with his craft.

Erik turned to her, extending his hand as they came closer to a particularly dangerous passageway. Christine placed her hand in his, a shock of warmth shooting up her arm at his touch.

Erik pulled his hand away, mistaking her short gasp of air for pain. "I'm sorry," he said quickly.

Christine bit her lip, too ashamed to reveal that she had gasped out of pleasure, not pain.

Soon, the familiar earthy smell of water pierced Christine's olfactory system. As they turned a final corner, Christine let out a small shriek of excitement.

"It's a lake!" She exclaimed, running to the edge of the water like a child seeing the ocean for the first time. She spun around, her hair whipping her face as she faced Erik. "Did you know this was here?"

Erik winced as he caught sight of the bruise that was rapidly spreading across her cheek. "Yes," he nodded. "I did."

Christine turned back to the water, squinting to see what lay on the other side.

Erik followed her glance. The lair was in much the same shape it had been when Erik had first arrived as a child in his previous life. A thin layer of dust covered what were once gilded props meant for lavish productions. Fabrics of all sizes and textures were draped haphazardly in every direction, waiting to be transformed into a ballerina's costume. Props, scenery, discarded flats and more littered the small peninsula on the other side of the lake.

What caught Erik's eye, however, was the enormous piano he had learned on as a child.

Of course, in this life, that never happened. The instrument sat on the other side of the lake, neglected and almost certainly out of tune.

"It's like a graveyard," Christine said, rubbing her arms as she shivered. "It's just so sad."

Erik wordlessly unhooked his cape, quickly draping it around her shoulders.

He too had felt the sadness of this place. However, instead of depressing him, Erik had found comfort in the safety the lair provided. Why live above ground, he had rationalized, when he so clearly belonged down here with other precious items others had been too naïve and too self-serving to protect?

"Is there away to get to the other side without having to swim?" Christine suddenly asked.

Erik looked over at her, raising an eyebrow. The Christine he was used to wasn't so brave.

He couldn't help but assume her bravery stemmed from the absence of a lurking stranger that appeared in mirrors and shadows, calling himself an angel.

"There's a boat," he said softly gesturing with his hand towards the sleek, dusty prop boat that Erik had used to cross the lake thousands of times in a previous life.

"Can we…I mean may I…" Christine stammered.

Erik motioned for her to lead the way and then helped her into the boat. As she sat, a mushroom of dirty air erupted around her.

Christine sneezed furiously.

"I'm afraid it's a bit dusty," Erik said apologetically.

"That's alright," Christine said, sniffling and pulling at the stuffy collar of her shirt. Finally, exasperated, she unbuttoned the top four buttons of the blouse and inhaled deeply, revealing the milky column of her neck.

Erik noticed, blushed, and looked away.

"I'm sorry for not being proper," Christine said, not really sounding apologetic. "But you have no idea how binding women's clothing can be."

Erik laughed.

"I think that's the first time I've heard you laugh," Christine said, grasping the sides of the boat as Erik pushed off from shore.

He looked down at her, his eyes intense. "Does the sound offend you?"

Christine shook her head. "Quite the opposite," she said, offering a smile. "I like it."

Eventually, the boat once again scraped land. Erik deftly disembarked, holding out his hands to Christine, who took them and helped her up. Her body collided softly with his, yet she did not immediately pull away.

Erik still held her hands in his, looking down into her crystalline eyes. Her bottom lip quivered.

"Are you too cold?" Erik asked, his breath a mere whisper.

Christine shook her head. "No," she replied. "I'm perfect."

Erik smiled. Slowly, he raised his hand, gently moving a piece of her hair that was hanging in her eyes. "Yes," he agreed. "You are."

The moment was balancing on the head of a pin. Erik cleared his throat and pulled away, moving towards the piano.

Christine inhaled deeply, trying to sooth her nerves, which seemed to jump with every movement Erik made.

He gently plunked out a few notes. To his complete surprise, the instrument was perfectly in tune, as if someone had been taking care of it all along.

"I can't believe it works," Christine said, coming to stand beside the large mahogany piano. "You'd think that the humidity alone would have destroyed it."

Erik nodded. "This piano was expertly crafted," he looked over at her. "It was someone's life's work," he said, his fingers dancing down a scale. "Every string, every key…every nuance came from the mind of a true artist."

Christine's heart broke at the passion in Erik's voice. She ran her hand lovingly along the top of the piano. Never before had she considered an instrument anything special, yet now, as she watched Erik's eyes greedily consume every nook and cranny of the piano, she truly appreciated it.

She watched as Erik plunged into a soft, dark tune…one she had never heard before. "Erik," she addressed him softly.

"Mmm?" He replied, quickly becoming lost in the music.

"Why did you bring me here?"

Erik's fingers stumbled on a note, indicating that the question had caught him off guard. Yet, he simply shrugged. "There's a certain comfort in solace," he said, lifting his dark lashes to her. "Don't you think?"

Christine smiled weakly, thinking about all of the times she had fled to the Opera Populaire's cathedral, just for a few precious moments of silence.

"From what does my teacher need comforting," Christine asked, her hand still absent-mindedly tracing circles in the piano top.

Erik smiled and looked back down at the ivory keys. "Life," he said, his voice barely audible. "Just life."

Christine watched as Erik played, becoming more and more enrapt with the melancholy notes that echoed off the dank walls.

"When I was younger, I lost my father," Christine said suddenly. "He was my entire world. And when he died, I thought I would die too; just shrivel up like a plant in winter."

Erik looked up at her, his fingers beginning to slow on the keys.

She smiled sadly. "It was the music that brought me back to life. Each time I sang, it brought me closer to him. Each time I met a new challenge, I was sure it made him proud." She closed her eyes for a brief moment. "And each time the audience applauded, I was sure I heard his voice."

By now, Erik had stopped playing altogether.

Christine moved closer to him, the bottom of her skirts sweeping up plumes of etheral dust around her as she approached him.

Erik stood, watching as she stopped in front of him. She slowly took one of his hands in her own and brought it slowly to her lips.

Erik watched, his body tense.

"These past weeks have meant more to me than I can begin to express," she said softly. "For the first time in a long time, I feel whole. And for that, I own you a debt of gratitude."

Erik nodded, his senses being assaulted with the sight, smell and touch of her.

"Do you believe in soul mates, Erik?" Christine asked suddenly, her voice a whisper. "Do you believe that we as humans wander around this earth...incomplete until we meet out other half?"

Erik swallowed. "I don't know," he said honestly. "Do you?"

Christine bit her lip. "I didn't use to," she said, barely audible.

And suddenly, Erik could not take it any longer.

Without thinking, he reached out and grasped Christine, wrapping one strong arm around her waist and interlocking the fingers of his other hand in the mass of curls at the back of her head.

Christine gasped with surprise, but did not pull away. Instead, she found her arms grasping about his shoulders, desperately pulling his muscular form closer to her.

A growl tore loose at the back of Erik's throat, years of wanting pumping through his veins, causing him to hitch a hand under the back of Christine's knee, hoisting her up onto the top of the piano so he could more easily attack her mouth with deep, fire-laced kisses.

Christine momentarily lost sense of time and space, instead focusing on the hot trail Erik was leaving down her throat and across her collarbone. Modesty forgotten, Christine wrapped long, stocking-clad legs around Erik's waist, clinging to him and whimpering his name, caught up in the intensity of the moment.

Erik pulled away from a kiss to place his forehead against hers, his breath coming in heavy pants. "I'm sorry," he rasped.

Christine slowly fell back down to reality, a part of her wishing she could ignore the direness of the situation and simply fall into Erik without consequence.

But as she looked straight into his golden eyes, she felt a pang of guilt.

She was engaged to be married .

And Erik already was.

Christine pushed him away a bit, wiping at her mouth as Erik walked away, his hands running anxiously through his hair.

She slid off the piano, her feet coming to rest silently against the dusty ground. Quietly, she adjusted her clothing, which was just slightly rumpled.

Erik turned to face her, his heart ripping apart as he did so. "Christine," he said, his voice tighter and more formal than usual. "I think it's best we return above ground."