*-* Erik & Christine XVII - Diva Debut

Then it was a whirlwind of performances, and every time she grew more addicted to all the lights and the sounds and the delight of the audience.

It was her last night, and Carlotta was sick. It had been brewing for the whole last week, and with her entire heart she'd hoped the Diva would get better. But tonight, as her voice had all but disappeared this morning, it seemed impossible she could do her part.

"I guess you will have to do it, little toad. Congrats on finally performing, the rehearsals won't be useless after all."

Her first instinct was to cry out in joy and call Erik to share her excitement. But she swallowed it and instead wished the diva well.

"Thank you. I do hope you'll get better soon."

"Now off you go, get ready. I won't have you ruin the last night for everyone."

Thrilled, she nodded before she made her way to the famed Diva's dressing room. She had been here often enough, before, but this would be her first time alone. Well. Her dresser would help her with the dresses, the wigs and the make-up.

But still, for this night, it belonged to her.

She couldn't wait to tell Erik all about it. And yet she refrained from doing so, hoping he would arrive and be surprised to find her center stage, singing the songs they had both so lovingly prepared, back in Provence.

She was ready, turned back into Lakmé, after her first fittings over a month ago. The anticipation was there.

She took a deep breath, cradling in her hands the medallion with the card that never left her now, keeping it under her bodice, close to her heart, and made her way down to the stage. On her path, a short walk but every step left her feeling both in a daze and completely aware of everything, in a deep concentration phase, she received all the "break a leg" from her fellow cast and crew members, especially from the understudies who had for some never gotten to perform solo.

The cheers of the audience quietened. The orchestra started. Then she stepped on the stage, letting her clear soprano voice rise and soar to the sky.

Here, in her mind's eye, she was that woman in India. The distinction between her and the role were irrelevant. She wore no costume but her own clothes. This was her hair, this was her song, her heart's words.

The music belonged to her as much as she herself belonged to it.

Over there, the audience had gone silent, a great calm over the stalls and the upper levels as she finished her song, until a torrent, a flood of applause swept her up.

The rest of the night went on, and she was bowing. She hardly realized it was over, still rejoicing from the thrill of the spectators' clapping and shouting in her veins, fueling her talent and acting like it was the last time she would ever be on stage.

She received a long, very warm and very loud standing ovation. And she could feel him now. The compass in her heart pointed to him, in his now favored box, so close to the stage she could almost distinguish his mask.

As usual, he kept to the darkness, but she knew he had loved her.

The curtain closed, and she felt as if coming down from a high. Oxygen was hard to come by, it seemed, and she felt dizzy. Backstage, she turned away from her loving fellow cast members.

"Thank you so much, everyone, but I need a few minutes of quiet, and then I will join you."

They nodded, and went on their way to their dressing rooms to get changed.

She returned to hers, closing the door behind her. In the quiet space, she heard nothing, only her deep breaths, and the rustle of her skirt as she sat down at her vanity.

He was there, and put his hands on her shoulders. Tonight, he was dead. For who would ever have believed he could feel like he had that night? Her performance had been the greatest thing he'd ever witnessed.

No questions asked.

No doubts.

He was there. His hands on her shoulders.

"You have given the world its most precious Angel, my dear. Your whole soul. And there is no fairer gift."

"I take it you liked me?"

"Every other artist pales against your perfection."

She was blushing.

"Perfection?"

"Would I lie, my dear?"

"Never."

He still had his mask, harsh against the lights of her mirror. But his eyes shone the brightest she'd ever seen them, their gold so pretty and intense, she wanted to paint the world in their warmth.

From a hidden pocket in his cloak, he produced a small bouquet of red and white roses.

"Congratulations again on your true Diva Debut, my dearest."

They smelled good, and were made from the freshest flowers, but it was not flowers she needed right now.

"Come now, Erik, and kiss me."

She got up and lovingly took off the mask. How his smile lit up the room, she would never tire of that. Then she rose on her tip toes and brought his lips to hers.

Still a bit dizzy from the stage, this kiss was both her doorway back to earth, and a continuation of her high. He was intoxicating, drove her mad with want and desire, her heart close to bursting from how much love she had for him. Of course, it was still so very new, so dear and precious.

He took her closer into his arms, caressing her back in the lovely dress she wore, and soon passion threatened them both.

"No. Not here," he murmured. "You have your closing party."

"Will you leave now when I need you so?"

"I shall tend to all your desires later, my angel, but for now, your loving fans await you and so do your friends. Even Carlotta will be wondering where you went."

"Very well."

One last kiss, and he helped her get ready for the party, zipping her up.

"Now off you go, my love. I shall be waiting for you when you leave."

"I love you."

"And I love you too."

One smile, another stolen kiss, and she was out of the room. Joining her friends at the stage door, where a crowd had formed, desperate to meet her. Thunderous cries and screams of joy greeted her.

"Miss Nilsson! MISS NILSSON! CHRISTINE!"

She smiled, fear and delight and wonder all battling inside her heart, and started chatting, posing for selfies, signing autographs, (she had no pen yet, how could she have forgotten?) They'd loved her, and what would do next? Would she audition for the new Magic Flute production in the Garnier? Or perhaps the Faust one?

She tried to answer as best she could, and finally arrived to the end of the line, tired but with stars in her eyes and a strange new warmth in her heart. Validation, finally.

See that, Dad? This is for you, too. I made it.

She joined her friends and left for the club where they had all planned to be partying.

Carlotta had waited for them, a long scarf over her nose and neck.

"Ah! My little toad! I hoped to find you there. We need to talk."

She took her arm and led her away from the party, in a deserted corner.

"First I wanted to say Brava! You were amazing, and you filled my place very well."

"Thank you, signora."

"Then, I must ask you this. The Garnier plans to do a production of The Magic Flute in three months and the auditions are starting next week. But I have been offered the role of the Night Queen, and thought of you to play Pamina. Your voice would suit her well, I believe."

What?

"You told them about me?"

"Well, after tonight, people are going to want you. I really appreciated our working together, and if we can do something else… As a token of my well wishes, and a thank you."

"I'd be honored, signora."

"Then it is settled. I shall text you the details and email you the rest of the information tomorrow. Until then, little toad. Enjoy the party!"

Then she was gone, to laugh and dance in the arms of her beloved tenor.

After that it was a blur of drinking and dancing and laughing, exchanging jokes and well wishes for the future.

Her heart felt full. Thrilled, beating fast and a smile and laughter around her throat, never leaving her.

She was alive, and she felt alive, as though finally being where she was meant to be. Completion.

When she was too tired to go on, as the night wore on, she said her goodbyes, knowing she would miss all those people, but secure in the knowledge that while the theatre family could be harsh and petty, it was still her family of heart, and they shared all good things and bad things. Together, forever. One team. She would work with them again.

But now she had a handsome masked man to return to.

For as soon as she stepped out of the club, he was there, cloaked and masked, holding out his arm.

"May I accompany Mademoiselle Nilsson to her home?"

"Please do, good monsieur."

He smiled, and she reached up to kiss him, grasping his masked cheek. It was soft and tender, but underneath this sweetness, she could feel her heart close to bursting, and more wicked delights to come.

Then he took her hand and they returned home.