Happy reading! I hope you enjoy their new life in Paris and the theatre life!

*-*Erik & Christine XVI - Theatre Life

She made her way, two days later to the great Bastille Opera house. A beautiful place, filled with a buzzing of activity she'd known her whole life.

They were preparing the new sets, designing the new costumes. She could hear the musicians getting ready in a distant, well soundproofed room. And she met the other performers. Some of them were known to her, as it had during her auditions. She was glad to meet most of them.

Except the other woman playing Lakmé. While her confidante, Regina, sounded like the sweetest middle aged lady she'd ever heard, Carlotta Giudicelli was a fierce woman, a tornado of red curls, who took one look at her, and didn't acknowledge her further. She knew her by name, and had been rather excited to meet her. Ten years ago, she'd been one of the greatest, most courted voices of the Opera world. Now, though, it seemed fame had gotten to her head.

But she would wait before forming a judgement. At the very least, she would show her she was deserving her place here, even perhaps the Diva's.

Rehearsals went underway, and it was soon easy to lose herself in the joy of performing again. Even the small role she'd been given was a joy to perform, and it allowed her to sneak into other departments and help others.

Of course, it allowed her to show off her voice as well.

The first time she opened her mouth, they all stopped what they'd been doing to listen to her.

And that was when the first troubles began. Carlotta threw her a look of utmost contempt.

Still it didn't deter her. She was doing the absolute best she could, and it was mostly enough. Even better, she had time off to practice on her own with Erik.

Each day spent with him felt like a fairytale. He was the most attentive, sweetest of boyfriends. Treated her like a queen, and loved her so much it always brought tears to her eyes.

Still, he never got more physical than a few kisses on her neck and caresses down her back. And the tension, while delicious, was beginning to drive her mad. She wanted him, physically, and she couldn't understand why after three entire months he still fought their desire.

One night, she couldn't stand it anymore, so she asked him.

"Don't you desire me, Erik?"

He was taken aback.

"Why would you think that?"

"We haven't made love yet. I still haven't seen your entire body. You know it would mean the world to me if you showed yourself to me."

He remained silent, carefully assessing her question. Of course he'd wanted her. The connection that had been present since the beginning, this ache for her flesh, it had nearly driven him mad, in the few months he'd courted her. But despite these urges, he was still refusing to move past that point. He was terribly afraid of losing control, and show him the true monster inside. If he ever indulged in these desires, what else would come back as well?

Safer then, to keep this relationship chaste and tender. But how could he tell her that, without alienating her?

"It is not my body, my dear. I… I do not want you to see me losing my control. Bad things happened when I surrendered to my desires."

She sighed, softly, caressing his arm.

"I thought we'd crossed that bridge, though, hadn't we? I know you. You've told me how you were at your worst. How can you believe making love will turn you into someone I could not love?"

He had no answers.

"Erik, my love. Can we try? At least, try? If it's too difficult, at any point, we can stop. You know we will. But… Why deny us this other chance at strengthening our connection?"

And then, she whispered in his ear:

"I have so often dreamt of being yours…"

He saw red. And black. And white. Her voice had gone straight to a part of his body he'd always kept in check, and his fangs were rejoicing.

She felt it, and the little vixen smirked.

"You know you want it…"

Her lips curled around the "t", and he thought he would be scorched from her fire. She was no longer the bright and warm light he'd kept at his side. She was a goddess, sublime and as blinding as a Supernova. And who was he to deny her anything?

He was powerless to resist.

So he surrendered to her.

He slowly drew his hand to her cheek, caressing her lips, and when she shivered from his contact, he smiled and kissed her.

Gently, at first, and then more passionately. His hands began exploring her body, as she found the buttons of his mandarin overcoat.

Touching more than his hands, the skin of his arms, so soft and pale to her eyes, no hairs at all, but covered in small scars, brought back a fierce determination in her. He had never been loved. Had grown so used to her touch, he'd let himself be his truest self with her. And now, his scars appeared in a different way to her eyes.

But she didn't care. She would kiss them one by one, learn the map of these small memories of the man she loved, the signs of the life he'd led before. Each was a piece of his story, and though he'd nearly not survived, still he was here, with her.

And nothing made her happier.

She finally divested him of his clothes, throwing back the covers to have a better look at him. He had only eyes for her, and the perfection of her body. Her curves, her breasts, so soft and supple and her smile, her ankles, her round stomach, everywhere he looked was only her, and she was exquisite.

"Do you like what you see?" she softly asked, a hint of fear in her voice, masked by her usual playfulness.

How would she ever believe that he didn't? No matter how she looked, he would always love her. And here, she had no reason to be self-conscious. By any standards, she was a beauty.

"You are perfection."

She smiled softly, and kissed him again. Their fingers traveled around, learning each inch of skin, until they met their respective goals.

Both moaned at the new sensations, pleasure overwhelming them.

Locked in each other's eyes, they spent a long time just learning what made the other tick, what made her breathe a little deeper, what made her heart miss a step, what made him tremble and fall apart in her hands and mouth.

For hours, and hours, they lost themselves in this languid exploration, like embers in the night, slowly but so, so delicious.

He didn't last long, but he made up for it with an impressive vigor, barely spent he was ready to go again. And she let herself fall under the spell of his lips, his fingers.

She had never doubted the power and skill of his long, elegant fingers.

The things they did to her…

Her own would never be enough again.

Still, as he's said, he wasn't ready yet to go all the way. But from their proximity, skin against skin, it was more than enough for the both of them.

They would have all the time in the world to explore further, and join their bodies even closer.

Afterwards, their days were just the same as before, and yet something different had definitely happened. They were even closer, their song linking them even deeper.

Each night, several times a day, when they were together, they were joining their bodies and their voices. It was so new to him, but he found himself enjoying it, learning it, craving it even more than he had anticipated. Even Music, his great love, paled in comparison to this shared love.

And his opera grew, under her both gentle and passionate inspiration. Most of it was now written, and he needed only the ending to be added. He loved it. It was so much better than his Don Juan Triumphant, better written, better scored, and the story was one he would never have thought he had in him. A story of love and redemption. And Her story, too. The story of the two women who had changed his life.

Christine loved her days at the theatre, and soon tech week arrived, to prepare the opening night, a week away.

She had grown close to Regina, the woman playing Lakmé's confidante, even though she spent most of her time with Carlotta.

Once, she had been feeling under the weather, and Christine had had the opportunity to replace her.

Of course, the Diva had not liked it.

She endured her cruel words of inadequacies and no talent, bracing herself against her assault. She knew only her jealousy was speaking.

One night, she was late leaving the theatre, after having discussed some thoughts with the orchestra director (courtesy of Erik, with a few suggestions on improving to perfection), and she heard a woman cry.

The theatre was nearly deserted at this time, and she didn't know who it could be.

Intrigued, and wanting to make sure everything was fine, she followed the noise.

It was Carlotta.

Her beautiful, usually perfect make up was stained with her tears, her hair down from her beautiful up do.

"Come to gloat, little toad?"

That had been her nickname from the first time she'd met her.

"I just wanted to make sure nobody was hurt."

"I am fine. What are you doing here so late?"

"Just discussing things with the Maestra, that's all. What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? Rehearsing!"

"Fine, I hope it goes well."

She turned to leave.

"Wait. Christine, wait."

She stilled and looked back on the diva.

"If you need to talk…," Christine began.

"I've hated you since the first moment I saw you."

Christine stiffened. Being kind was one thing, but she didn't like being insulted for free.

"If you have nothing more to say," she said softly, "then I'll leave you."

"You are everything I was, everything I used to be. You are talented, young, beautiful. Your whole life ahead of you, and a great career awaits. Mine is almost finished. I am fifty."

The Diva's despair touched her. No matter what, her core was compassion, and she hated seeing people in pain.

"And it is your greatest age, signora. It is up to you to go on with your career. You look great and your voice is good. You have experience and strong acting, everybody knows you. I looked up to you, when I started learning. I saw you as Pamina, and thought you were the greatest singer in the entire world. You excelled in every role you played. Nothing needs to change. You just need to find the roles where you feel the best."

"Who knew such a little toad could croak so sweetly."

"Find back your joy in performing. This is the only thing that matters in the end."

The Diva stood, and nodded.

"Thank you for your kind words, now go off jumping somewhere else, little toad. I need to rehearse some more."

But her smile was small, yet sincere.

The next days, the nickname was still there, but the bite had disappeared. The Diva appeared more relaxed, her singing was shining once more, and the whole company performed better as a result.

One evening, after a particularly good session, she was leaving, her heart full of the beautiful sounds and the emotions she'd felt, when Carlotta found her in her dressing room.

"The Prima Donna's not supposed to mingle with the ensemble, remember?" Christine said gently.

"I just wanted to say thank you. For the other day."

"You're welcome."

And with another mostly small smile, she was gone.

"I can't understand the depth of your compassion, my dear," Erik was telling her when she came back. "It truly knows no bounds, and I am awed."

"She's struggling. I just wanted to help. She's been my idol for many years."

"Still, it is to your credit to forgive her."

"The system is like that. It is always harder for women, when we age."

"I shall hope it does not treat you the same."

"As long as you're here with me, loving me, and I can perform in roles I like, I'll be happy. I don't need crowds of fans."

"You will have them too, in your time."

"Will you be there tomorrow night?"

"How could I ever miss my own Diva's opening night and debut?"

She smiled and kissed him, very quickly dissolving in a tangle of limbs.

Opening night, and the thrill and anticipation of knowing all of their work would finally come together at last.

She was in costume, and could hear the orchestra prepping slowly, and the shuffling of skirts and hundreds of people getting seated on the other side of the curtain.

The stress was rising, but so was the energy around them.

In her dressing room, Carlotta was still warming up, the familiar ahahahs a soothing sound to her own fear.

But she was ready. This would be fun.

The crowd went silent. The orchestra started playing, and Carlotta entered, under the beautiful lights. Soon, it would be her time, to step on the stage, to do what she'd done hundred times before. A small role, but it mattered.

There.

She was there.

Her voice was ringing with the others, and she got her own line to sing.

And it was over too quickly.

Soon, she was bowing, at the end of Act 4, along with the rest of the cast members.

And joining them, afterwards, for the opening party.

But first, she returned to her dressing room, shared with other girls of the ensemble, to discover an envelope and a card, and a single red rose.

"Congratulations on your Debut. You were the sun in a sea of stars.

I shall be requesting the pleasure of your company after the party,

Have fun, my dear,

With love, always,

Your Erik.

It brought tears to her eyes, and she hid them quickly as she prepared for the party. As usual, her pendant with his words never left her.

A night of dancing and drinking and laughing was always a wondrous event, but in her case, she was still glad to leave the club.

"Need assistance, Miss?"

She would have known his voice anywhere, and settled her arm on his, the well-dressed gentleman covered in a fine black cloak and smart hat.

"I could have come home on my own, you know."

"And leave you walk alone at this time? I feel safer accompanying you."

"You didn't have to."

"But I wanted to."

"Then I'm glad you're here."

She held him closer, and they made their way over to the apartment.

Knowing she'd be tired, and she was, he'd just made a small dinner for one, candle lights, red petals on the table.

"To your debut."

"Thank you."

And after dinner, they spent a lot more time reaping their just desserts.

It could never get too sweet.

Hope you enjoyed this new Carlotta! I'd like to think in a different world, they could have been friends. But that is surely just my optimistic self talking. Still, with Christine's kindness, I'm sure she'd be the kind of woman to support everyone and anyone, and to see through fear.