Disclaimer: I don't own the Phantom of the Opera. If you haven't figured that out by now I suggest you seek professional help. . .Hey! You could end up in a straight jacket that matches mine! Yay for straight jacket twins!

Chapter 17: Enter the Doctor

"Do you have time for a chat with your favourite ghost?"

Christine leapt back, startled by the sudden appearance of the Authoress in her dormitory. "What are you doing here?" she stammered. "Someone could come in and see you at any moment."

C.C. resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Someone could come in, yes. But they certainly wouldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Visibility is hardly a relevant issue with me. Invisibility is one of the fun little perks of being an Opera Ghost, or had you forgotten?"

Christine's cheeks reddened and her gaze quickly fell to the floor. C.C. shot her a smile. "Hey, kid. Cheer up. I take a bit of getting used to is all. It's not like people start walking through your walls everyday. Hell, when I first met your Angel, he told me flat out that my existence was impossible."

Christine looked up sharply at the mention of her teacher. "Did he really?"

C.C. nodded. "He did indeed. He's a bit hard headed, that one." Christine hid a smile demurely beneath her hand, as if she was wary to be caught laughing at her Angel's expense. It was a gesture that annoyed the Authoress to no end.

"Oh, would you stop that! It's not like he doesn't have a sense of humour." She paused for a moment. "Well, I think he's got one. Anyway, I've said worse to his face." Christine's shock was almost comical.

"Have you?"

This time C.C. couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Yes, and you'll learn to as well." She paused again. "There's a lot you don't know about your Angel of Music. For instance, has he ever told you his name?"

Again the comic shock. "He has a name?"

"Of course he has a name. Don't you, Erik?"

The air seemed to still. The silence seemed to grow unbearably oppressive. Once again Christine donned her expression that was the prelude to fainting. C.C. sighed.

You," she snapped at Christine, "faint and I'll have your head." She turned on Erik. "And you," she yelled though the wall, "you're going the right way for a smack, you are! Get over yourself and talk. We haven't got all day. I've got chorus girls to terrorize yet."

"Christine. . ." Erik's tenor was hesitant, nearly inaudible through the thick dormitory wall. Christine straightened.

"Angel. . ."

Then they both began to talk at once.

"Christine, I. . ."

"Angel, what. . ."

"Christine, you don't. . ."

Bullwinkle! Shouted C.C.'s mental voice.

It was then that C.C. decided that: A) this was going to be harder than she initially thought, and B) that it was time to step in.

"Okay, you two." She said in her best "camp councillor"voice with her best cheesy smile pasted onto her face. "This only works if you take turns talking. Now, Erik, why don't you go first?"

Silence.

The Authoress's smile slipped.

"Now, Erik!"

That did the trick.

"Christine, Angel, there are so many things you don't know, that you couldn't know. There are so many things that I haven't told you."

"I don't understand, Angel. What are you talking about? Angel, what. . ."

"Say his name, Christine." C.C. cut in. Christine jumped.

"What?"

"Say his name." The Authoress repeated. "This entire conversation you haven't called him anything but Angel. You're in a bit of denial, sweetheart. You've got to let go of a few things."

Christine merely looked frightened and unsure. C.C. gave her the warmest smile she could muster. "Go on, kid. Talk to him. You've been doing it for years. There's no difference now. It's just a name."

"What's. . .what's going on. . .Erik?"

The Phantom's sigh was loud enough to be heard though the thick walling. "Do you trust me, Christine?" he asked finally.

"Of course." Her answer was immediate, the product of blind faith cultivated over half a lifetime.

"Maybe you shouldn't." His reply was so quite that the girls could barely hear it, but its impact was enormous. It was only five small syllables, but it was enough to turn Christine's world upside down and throw an infinitely large monkey wrench into the Authoress's master plans.

"Excuse us for a moment." she said to Christine before dashing through the wall.

"What do you thing you're doing?" she hissed at Erik, careful to keep her voice soft enough that Christine could not hear her. "I said talk to her. Not tear her whole world into teeny tiny little pieces!"

Erik's hands balled into tight fists at his sides. "I only said the truth." He snapped back. "Isn't that what you've been preaching at me to do?"

Clapping her hand on his forearm, C.C. forcibly held the Phantom's gaze. "Do you love her?"

"Of course." Erik replied brusquely.

"Have you ever done anything to hurt her?"

The answer was softer this time. "Never."

"Then she has every reason to trust you."

"All I've ever done is lie to her." Erik protested.

"All you've ever done," the Authoress insisted, "was tell her what she needed to hear." She took a deep breath as she tried to collect her thoughts. "When Christine was a child, she didn't need some strange, and lets face it, somewhat emotionally broken man to appear in her life. She needed an angel, so you gave her one. You created the fantasy that both of you needed to survive. But Christine's not a child anymore. She doesn't need an angel now. She's ready to give up the fantasy and grow up. The question is whether or not you're ready to give it up too."

Erik didn't answer, but in his silence there was relinquishment. With that silence the Angel of Music died and all that was left was a strange, slightly broken, but absolutely amazing man in the fallen angels place.

C.C.'s hand slipped lower on Erik's arm until she held his hand in hers. Lacing her fingers through his, she gave his hand a quick squeeze before slipping back through the wall into the ballet dormitory.

To her credit, Christine didn't jump as the Authoress emerged on her side of the wall, but it was clear that the day was taking its toll on the young soprano. She had the shaken look of someone who had survived a disaster of faith, the hollowed look of someone who was lost in every sense of the word. It was time for major damage control before all parties involved were lost beyond all hope of being found.

"Hey there." C.C. said gently as she dropped down onto the bed where Christine was sitting. She slid her arm around the younger girl's shoulder in the most reassuring gesture she could manage. "Are you gonna stop pouting before I get a lecture for making you unhappy and you get scolded from improper behaviour?" she teased.

Christine gave a slight smile. "The Opera Ghost gets lectured?"

C.C. smiled back. "All the time. I don't listen much, but for some reason Erik keeps giving them. He's quite determined, but I'm starting to question his grasp on reality." Turning towards the dormitory's single communal mirror she added, "You're improving, though. Aren't you, big guy?"

"Slowly but surely." Erik's voice was again soft, but it was marked with purpose and meaning.

This time Christine did jump. She looked nervously at the Authoress, no longer certain of the role she played in her little world of angels and phantoms. C.C. gave her another reassuring smile and nudged her towards the mirror. "Go look at your face in the mirror." She told the girl. "Look at your face and talk to him like he's right there on the other side."

Christine stood and walked to the old and dusty looking mirror. She started at her reflection for several seconds before speaking. "I don't understand, Angel. And I'm frightened." Another pause. "I know that I've never really understood much, but it's never frightened me. I'm frightened."

Another few seconds passed before Erik's reply could be heard through the wall. "Erik," he corrected. "My name is Erik. And you needn't be frightened, Christine. I'm still me and I'm still here. I'll always be here."

C.C. watched the smile on Christine's face boom into something radiant and spectacular and she had a sneaky feeling that the smile was mirrored by the man on the other side of the wall. She also had the feeling that her work was done for the day and every second longer she stayed in the room was a second she was intruding. As quietly and unostentatiously as possible she disappeared and slipped through a back wall.

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Later that evening C.C. sat on the swan bed, playing with her kitten, when Erik finally returned to the lair. Her head shot up and she scrutinized him carefully, looking for any signs of how his first encounter with Christine as Erik had gone. Immediately she broke into a grin.

"You're not dark and broody!" she called. "I guess that means she didn't kick you to the metaphorical curb!"

The look on Erik's face made C.C. giggle. Somehow he managed to look both wistful and annoyed. Not answering her, he walked into the alcove containing the organ. Soon after the sounds of the organ filtered through the lair. However the music was different from the music she had grown accustomed to hearing the big instrument produce. It was lighter, tentative, and laced with what she could only think of as hopefulness.

Her grin went from wide to near maniacal as she bounded after him into the alcove. Skidding to a halt mere feet before she slammed into Erik's back, she seated herself on a rock and watched him play with a goofy smile plastered on her face. It didn't matter that he wasn't paying her a whit of attention. It didn't matter that more walls had been built that day than torn down. All that mattered was that the first steps had been taken and that there was hope in Erik's music.

As far as C.C. was concerned she had the makings of a pretty good love doctor and that things would only get better from there.

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A/N: Look! I finally put Erik and Christine in contact with each other! Yay for me! Yay for EC-ness! Yay for cutting down large trees with herring. . .oh, wait, that's whole different fandom. Anyway, we have now crossed the threshold into the world of EC phiction, it turns out I can keep my promises in respect to pairings even if the chapter turned out far more serious than I intended. Oh, and whoever gets the Bullwinkle reference wins ten minutes locked in my walk in closet with my muse, unsupervised. As always, I hope y'all enjoy.

Your most Humble and Obedient Servant,

SP

C.C.: Are you ready to reply to the reviews, Erik?

Muse!Erik: If I say yes will you cease prostituting me to anyone with a knowledge of cult movies and theatre?

C.C.: No, but if you say no I'll release that video of you sloshed at my mum's Christmas party.

Muse!Erik: Are you black mailing me?

C.C.: Yep. With you around I learned from the best.

Bek: As always, thank you for the kind words. And as for feeding Erik, he can feed himself, thank you very much.

Muse!Erik: -purrs- Yes, but I much prefer it when you do it. Especially when it involves chocolate.

C.C.: How come you're only sexy and flirtatious when it involves chocolate?

PMEL: Honestly, must you keep boosting my muses ego like that? I have a hard enough time dragging him away from the female population at large long enough to serve as inspiration.

Muse!Erik: It's neither my nor their fault that you decided you wanted a muse who doubles as a sex symbol.

C.C.: Damn you and your infallible logic.

MTL: Brilliant? I have no idea how I'm going to live up to these standards you keep setting, but I guess I'll have to try.

Muse!Erik: You live up to nothing, my dear. I live up to your standards for you. You just sit at your computer and punch in any bits of inspiration I choose to give you.

C.C.: You're just cranky because I won't hand feed you chocolate, aren't you?

Trier1974: Thank you. It's always great to get support from more experienced writers.

Muse!Erik: That's not saying much. The average field mouse is a better writer.

C.C.: That's it! No mare Jaffa Cakes for you!

Cassiopeia Lily: How come none of my reviewers ever offer me baked good or gooey waffles?

Muse!Erik: Because I am far more attractive and desirable. Besides, your metabolism is nowhere near fast enough to handle my diet.

C.C.: -glares-

Pawfoot: There's spell check now? -joins in the I'm-A-Psychotic-Idiot-Dance-

Muse!Erik: Tell me again why I associate with either of you?