Rose42

Two weeks later…

Madame Giry and Christine stood watching the performers rehearse for Don Juan Triumphant. With the sets built, the dancers costumed, and the instruments tuned, Christine could hardly wait for the sexy dancing to begin. She looked forward to twirling, hopping, and gyrating before a live audience…or at least in front of Erik as he watched from his box.

While they waited for one of the sets, which had collapsed, to be erected once more, Madame attempted to persuade Christine into a long engagement, but she refused, saying she was impatient and couldn't wait for her own long thing a moment longer. Madame only tipped back her bottle and shrugged, congratulating her.

"Will you remain here?" Madame asked. "Now that Bouquet is gone, you're in no danger, and I'm sure the people of Paris wouldn't mind seeing a different face, a younger face, at least. Carllotta is no longer in her prime," she said, then added, "and hasn't been for a good fifteen years."

With all of the rumors and whispering that always took place in the opera—many times originating in the managers' offices, she decided to merely slip away and become Mrs. Erik Lu'oar in a quiet ceremony.

"We're going to run away," she said dreamily.

"How foolishly romantic," Madame commented.

Besides, with Meg's marriage to the Vicomte de Chagny, there was really no room to discuss her own intentions.

"Romantic," Christine sighed. "Yes, it's very romantic."

"It's idiotic," Madame drunkenly snapped. She took another swig and stumbled, nearly tipping off the stage. "All the best."

"Thank—"

"All right, girls," Madame hollered as she walked away from Christine. "Lift those legs until I can see your internal organs."

The chorus girls exchanged wary looks until Madame raised her cane and swung it around, baring her teeth at the nearest girls, who sprang into the air and dashed away. They formed a line down the middle of the stage and began kicking wildly, rotating their hips and performing various tantalizing, titillating, and sensual movements that could only be performed by very limber seventeen-year-old girls or superhuman contortionists.

Inhaling, Christine turned toward the vacant seats and immediately settled her gaze on Box Five, formerly known as the Phantom's box, currently known (at least to Christine) as the Love Box.

She noticed the slightest movement, a shadow upon a shadow, and smiled. He was there, watching as he always had. It crossed Christine's mind that he may have been watching the sexy dancing rather than her, which wouldn't do at all.

While Madame was preoccupied with threatening the rest of the girls, Christine sneaked off stage in the sexiest way possible and ran down the hall, knowing Erik would follow her.

"Good evening, Christine."

A stiff breeze blew against the back of her neck and she turned, smiling until she saw Raoul.

"What are you doing here?"

"What man could resist a chorus line? Not I, said the fly."

"What fly?"

"Never mind." He rubbed his hands together. "I just wanted to say good bye, farewell, goodnight and good luck. Oh, and any wedding you have, mine will be better. My wedding will be better than yours."

"No, it won't."

He began to circle her. "Yes, it will."

"No, it won't."

"Yes, it will, yes, it will."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. Thank you for your kind congratulations and your desire to one-up me."

He grinned. "You're welcome. Say, have you seen Meg? I haven't ravished her all morning and I'm famished for a bite of Giry."

Christine lost her appetite. She shook her head and tried to look sympathetic before she dashed for the safety of her lover's arms. "Good luck on your search for her. I'm sure she's close by."

"Oh, and Christine," he said.

"Yes, Raoul?"

"If things don't work out for you and Lu'oar, I'd be willing to sample a Chrissy-Meg sandwich."

She turned on her heel and rounded the corner, certain she'd vomit. All disturbing thoughts, however, left her mind the moment Erik appeared through a doorway.

"Oh, good!" she exclaimed. "I was hoping you'd be here. I just saw Vicomte de Chagny and he said the most disturbing thing to me."

"No sandwiches," he said. "Not ever, not even to eat."

"Indeed not," she replied as she wrapped her arms around him and buried her head against his chest. She sighed and snuggled closer to him until she could hear his heart beating. "Erik, let's leave right now, right this very minute."

He grunted but didn't reply.

"We'll leave on the first train and take it to wherever it goes. Doesn't that sound lovely?"

"It sounds irrational," he said.

She frowned, knowing he was right. "It sounds like a passionate adventure between two lovers who can't get enough of one another. Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to have sex on a train?"

"No," he answered flatly. "It's honestly never crossed my mind."

"Really?"

"The orchestra pit, my private box, my gondola, my organ bench, and on the flys. Never a train."

"Well, maybe you should add it to the list," she said seductively. "Another place to check off, my love."

Something poked her in the belly, and once she realized he wasn't wearing his sword, she smiled and wriggled her hips to add to the friction. Within seconds he was breathing heavily, each exhale a masculine growl of need. She had him precisely where she wanted him thanks to her feminine charms.

"Let's run away," she suggested again, pouting in order to get her own way.

"Tomorrow."

Damn it, not even a little fancy hip action could sway him.

"But why tomorrow? We should leave right now before we change our minds."

"I'm not about to change my mind. I have no intention of leaving before tomorrow." He stared at her, a hint of anxiety in his green eyes. "At least not until after tonight's performance."

"Ah, of course," she said, hugging him tighter. "How foolish of me to suggest we leave before your opera is finally performed."

"Yes, Christine," he murmured as he stroked her hair back from her face. "Tonight is the opening. The first performance of my life's work."

His expression changed to something she'd never seen before. For a long moment she stared at him, studying his eyes and the smile on his face until she realized that he was beaming with pride.

"How many years did you spend writing it?" she asked.

"Almost twenty years," he answered. "Two years after I moved in here I began to write the music for it. I composed day and night." His lips twitched. "It was all I had to do in my days. Compose or…wait."

She kissed him tenderly and placed her palm to his cheek. "It's a masterpiece," she said against his lips. "From the first time I heard you play the overture I realized I was listening to a true work of art. I cannot wait until the curtain opens and we're on stage."

"Together," he said. "As I've wanted for so long, to be on stage with you, to see you up close. It's the only way I could ever imagine seeing you in this part."

"You should have rehearsed with us."

"No," he answered quickly. "I know my part. I know every part."

"But I wanted you there," she said. "The composer, the lead part in the opera. Sure, Piangi can sing, but I would have liked to practice with you."

"Next time," he assured her, which she gathered was a pleasant way of him saying he wasn't yet ready to face the rest of the theater.

Ever since they'd returned from the graveyard, he'd continued to stay by himself, preferring to slink around the opera house rather than meet with everyone. As a creature of habit, she didn't expect him to show himself the first day. However, it would be impossible for him to take the stage and expect to remain an opera ghost. Everyone would be talking about him—and she hoped when they realized he was a musical genius that they'd look past his obvious faults.

"I'm happy for you. After all your years of hard work and mastering the music around you, you'll finally see it performed," she said, taking him by the hand.

"I never expected to see it performed."

"Why not?"

"The people of Paris aren't yet ready for this."

"Well, then they better hold onto their seats because it will be performed. I, for one, plan to leave them speechless. Of course, I think the choreography that Madame has in mind will probably leave most of their older folks half-dead and the younger people mauling one another in their seats. I expect tonight there will be many babies conceived in this very theater."

He smiled at that. "You leave me speechless, Christine."

"And now, after everything we've been through, I think we should celebrate."

"Oh?"

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled as they walked up the spiral staircase leading to the balcony. She dragged her fingers along the marble wall suggestively and gave him an eyebrow raise. "Let's make some music of our own."