The wall between them had been irrevocably torn down by Carlotta's dog. At the start of their next lesson, he asked how returning the dog had gone, and she told him of how huffy Carlotta had been that her dog seemed to like Christine.
They made small talk here and there, nothing too big but still more than had occurred in quite a while. It was a few lessons after the incident with the dog that Christine suddenly remembered something on the verge of falling asleep one night.
The scene entered her mind from what seemed a great distance, pictures floating through a haze and words drifting across a choppy sea.
Erik standing near the mirror, his eyes plaintive.
Her own self stumbling back, shaking and crying, and then running away from him.
I hate you!
Her eyes flew open. She had apologized for pulling off his mask, but she had never apologized for saying she hated him. Had she?
Her heart ached. Had he gone this whole time thinking that she still hated him? Oh, poor Erik. She shifted uneasily on her thin mattress. She would have to tell him first thing in their next lesson.
She watched him anxiously that next evening as he stepped through the mirror and shuffled through some staves he wanted her to read.
"Erik," she said suddenly.
He paused and glanced at her.
"Erik, you know I don't hate you, right?"
"It's alright, Christine. I understand," he said in a kind voice with a sad smile, and she was afraid that he seemed to be implying that it was alright if she hated him.
"I'm sorry I told you that I did. I realized last night that I never said I was sorry. I don't hate you, truly I don't."
He nodded a little, his face looking as though he didn't believe her but had chosen to pretend. He handed her a few of the papers.
"These are the pieces I was telling you about," he changed the subject. "They'll be a stretch for you, but it gives you something to work towards."
She stifled a sigh. How could she make him believe her? After her lesson was finished she made a point of staying and talking with him for longer than normal, asking him more personal questions about the kinds of music he liked the best and how his composing was going instead of their typical topics of weather and the like. He seemed a little surprised at first, but he stayed and talked and it was nice.
She figured the only way to get him believe that she didn't hate him was to show him that she didn't hate him - clearly her apology was not enough. Building on what they had started after she had taken the dog back to Carlotta, she continued to try to spend extra time with him either before or after their lesson, and it seemed like it was working.
After that, they often talked on any various topics that came up. They didn't always have time to stay and chat, depending on what Christine still had to get done that day, but any frostiness or awkwardness had fallen away and they both felt like they could breathe again.
The situation far exceeded either one's hopes, in fact - they both found it easier to talk to each other now that they were only people, and the mutual agreement of complete honesty made it easier to be open with other and to trust.
Christine found she felt a little less alone in the big opera house - she had friends in the company, of course, but politics abounded between all the performers, regardless of if one was a leading star or a mere ballet rat, and Christine liked the feeling of knowing that at the end of the day she had one person who was utterly, entirely on her side no matter what.
Erik found Christine and her singing began to consume more and more of his thoughts and attention, and he found that it was not unpleasant. What else did he have to do with his time besides brood on the unfairness of the world? But now he had Christine. He had grand plans to plot out for her, extensive lesson plans to formulate, obscure and unusual pieces he could find - and new, unheard of pieces he could write! - for her to add to her repertoire that would help her stand out in auditions. She had told him she wanted to be the finest voice in Paris, but he knew that she was selling short with that goal - and that with his help she could become one of the finest voices in all of Europe.
With so much to occupy his mind, he had left much of the Opera Ghost business behind him - though of course he put in whatever appearances he needed to ensure his twenty thousand francs a month. But pranks and threats were mostly uncommon now.
The opera house held auditions in the winter, and Christine had worked hard on her song choices with Erik for months. The fateful day drew near, and when it finally came she found she was terribly nervous. It would be her first audition since she had begun working with her tutor, the first one Erik thought she was finally ready to try. She dearly wished he was there with her, at least somewhere where she could actually see him. She knew he was probably in the shadows of Box Five or lurking someplace nearby, but it still wasn't the same as if he was there.
When it was her turn to sing, she faltered in the beginning but mostly managed to save the rest of the song. Her nerves had gotten the better of her, and she was disappointed with herself. She hung around the backstage for a while as the others sang, glancing here and there, wondering if Erik was there or not. Would he be upset with her? She was upset with herself. She knew she could do so much better, but now she'd have to wait months until there was a possibility of another audition.
She finally turned and left, deciding to go to her dressing room in the hopes that he might be there instead. If he was going to chide her, better to get it over with, she assumed.
Erik was not in her dressing room, but it appeared that he had been quite recently - a white envelope and a white rose were carefully placed on her vanity table.
She picked up the rose, noticing that all the thorns had been meticulously removed. She breathed in the scent of it as she opened the fancy envelope and read the note inside.
Christine,
Your Maestro is well pleased with all of the effort and dedication you have put into your audition. There will be time enough at a later date to go over what needs improvement. For now, simply enjoy the moment and take pride in what you have accomplished.
She looked at her mirror and smiled, uncertain if perhaps he was still there. Feeling a little better and comforted by his words, she left her dressing room and went to go find Meg to tell her how it had gone.
On the way to the ballet rooms, she happened to pass one of the directors who had been at the rehearsal.
"Mlle Daaé, was it?"
She stopped and nodded politely.
"I just wanted to congratulate you on your audition tonight - I know you hit a few rough patches here and there, but when you were good your voice was heavenly. I'm sure with effort and practice you'll be getting understudy roles in no time at all."
Her cheeks colored, unused to being noticed and remembered.
"Thank you, Monsieur," she curtsied. "Your words mean so much to me."
They parted after a few more formal words to each other, and Christine felt like she was floating.
when you were good, your voice was heavenly
Those words, combined with Erik's note, erased nearly all of her disappointment in how she had performed.
She told Meg about the director's compliment (but not about Erik's note) and the two discussed the audition for a while longer. Those same words were still buzzing in her ears that night as she went to sleep, and even still in the morning as she dressed for church.
She had dropped the request for Erik to attend church services with her after she had found out about his face and realized how uncomfortable being in a room with other people made him feel. As such, she had resumed her usual habit of three Sundays a month at the church that was several streets away from the opera house.
She was embarrassed to admit that her mind was wandering terribly that Sunday morn, but a thought had occurred to her sometime between the last evening and that morning, and she was consumed with turning it over in her head until it made sense and she was certain of it. She was only half listening to the words of the priest as she stared up the stained glass illuminated by the weak sun, figures of angels and saints glowing dimly.
She had a lesson scheduled with Erik for that afternoon, and she set off for it as soon as she had finished with her prayers. Her smile grew wider as she entered the room with piano in it, seeing that Erik was already there and waiting. She quickly unwrapped her scarf from around her neck and face and peeled off her coat, slinging it across the back of a chair.
"Good morning, Christine," he greeted her.
"Good morning, Angel," she replied a little breathlessly, her heart still beating fast from her journey.
He flinched and looked unhappy, quickly turning to face the piano instead of her. She hadn't called him that since their big fight that had ended with her stealing his mask. Was she mad at him? Was she making fun of him?
"Have I done something to displease you, Christine?" his voice was tight and ashamed.
She frowned and turned to look at him as he sat on the piano bench, his hands fidgeting nervously as he avoided meeting her eye.
"No," she said slowly. "What's the matter, Erik? What's wrong?"
He swallowed hard, unsure of what to say.
"It's just- you haven't- called me that since..."
"Oh," her shoulders slumped a little.
Of course he didn't know her own private thoughts, the ones that had occupied her mind ever since speaking with the director. Of course he still associated that name with the last time she had used it, with how she hurled it at him so viciously even though it had been so long ago.
"No, it's alright," she assured him, and hesitated before continuing. "I've been thinking. I've been thinking a lot quite recently, actually."
It was only the shy quality to her words that kept Erik from panicking too much. She was hardly ever shy around him - and if she was angry with him she certainly would have let him know without any pretense.
"And I was especially thinking while I was in church today," she said sheepishly. "And I realized something."
She glanced up at him, biting her lip. He still wasn't looking at her, but she could tell he was listening intently. They had never talked very much on religious subjects so she was uncertain of what, if anything, he believed in - but she felt she needed to explain her train of thought to him so she figured she might as well put it out there.
"I know it must sound terribly silly, especially if one doesn't believe in those sorts of things, but... I have been thinking, maybe, that there are times when we ask for things, that we pray for things, and it seems that they don't show up. That our prayers have gone unanswered, or that the answer is no. But what if- what if a prayer did get answered, but just not in the way one expected? And we spend so long looking for what we expected that we miss out on what actually arrived?"
She twisted her hands together.
"I was so upset when I found you weren't an angel, Erik. But... when I prayed for the Angel of Music to finally appear to me, I wanted someone who would help me fulfill my dream to sing, just like my father promised me. And I know that you're only a man, but Erik - that was you. That was you all along."
Erik's voice caught in his throat. He turned to look at Christine, who was looking at him with such shining eyes and a kind smile, and he realized she was telling the truth.
"I understand if you'd prefer I not call you Angel again, but I didn't mean any harm by it. You'll always be the Angel of Music to me, Erik."
He cleared his throat, trying not to weep.
"You can call me whatever you like, Christine," he finally managed.
She smiled and nodded.
"Thank you. And thank you for that nice note, and the rose. They were lovely."
He was too overwhelmed to formulate a coherent response, so he changed the subject.
"I believe it is time to go over what was lacking in your audition, Christine."