Author's note: Thanks for all the nice reviews! I especially have to thank Queen of the Clarinets for reminding me that last Sunday this story turned half a year old. Isn't that nice? Oh, and I have to warn you that in this chapter there are quite a few POV changes. So keep your eyes open!

Chapter Fifty-Nine

September 14th 1892: Christine

I made my way to the right box with the security of a sleepwalker. The Baroness was already gone, having found the entrance to Box Two right away. She had left without a word, almost as if she didn't dare talk to me. Under normal circumstances that would have been rather pleasant, especially given the things she had said before, yet I hardly noticed it. In fact, I probably wouldn't even have heard it if she had insulted me in the worst way possible. I felt as if I was trapped in a world of my own. I couldn't get out, and other couldn't get in.

This impression grew stronger as I entered the box and took my seat, without thinking about what I was doing.

"It's good that you're back," Raoul whispered, kissing my cheek softly. I barely felt the touch of his lips. "The third act has just started. You didn't miss anything important."

I nodded automatically, glancing over at Antoinette and Jacqueline and giving them a slight smile. They were too busy looking at the stage to return it. So I did the same.

Yet if I had hoped this would make me return to the state of mind I had been in before leaving the box, I had been wrong. The last times I had been to the opera, years ago, I had been able to relate to the characters on stage, to feel their happiness, pain and grief. But today not even the most heart-rending arias touched me, and that was not only because the opera wasn't the most exciting of its kind. I simply wasn't interested in what was happening.

At least it wasn't as dark in the auditorium as it had been before, probably due to the fact that the managers wanted to avoid a panic if the Opera Ghost tried another one of his tricks. Yet even the people in the audience, usually a nice distraction from a boring opera, didn't fascinate me the way they had used to. I watched a group of girls giggling, an elderly lady eating chocolates out of a large box and a couple exchanging hasty kisses. It was this image that made me look up. My eyes met Erik's.

Erik

I made my way to Box Five as quickly as possible. Although Philippe was by no means heavy for his age or height, my arms had grown a little tired in the last minutes, probably because I had held him for such a long time before. I was glad that I could lay him down on two chairs I had hastily pushed together with my foot. When my hands were free again, I adjusted the chairs a little, making them comfortable to sleep on.

Having made sure that my boy was fine, I swung my slightly aching arms back and forth to regain the usual feeling in them. After a few moments I stopped, afraid someone in the audience could look up and spot the Opera Ghost doing such undignified things. That wouldn't have been good for my reputation. So I sat down in the seat I always had, next to the slumbering child.

Some minutes later I found myself fervently wishing I could fall asleep as well. The songs sounded even duller and less inspired than they had done during the rehearsals. Why were those people singing about love of the lack thereof? Did they even know what it meant to love so deeply that it made the heart ache and the soul hum? They knew nothing, just like the people surrounding me. The only other person who could understand such feelings was… Christine. I glanced over at her box just in time to meet her eye.

Christine

I smiled at him, suddenly not feeling as isolated as before. It was as if a second person had entered that strange new world of mine, a person who could understand me, even if no one else could. Had those kisses we had shared somehow managed to establish a bond between us? Or had they merely made the bond that had been there ten years ago visible for us again? I didn't know the answer, but still I liked the feeling.

He returned the smile tentatively. Yet when he realised that my smile hadn't only been meant to acknowledge his presence, but to express my joy about him being there, his smile widened as well. It lit up his whole face, making him look almost… handsome. The thought surprised me, but it also made me excited. The realisation that Philippe wasn't the only one who could make Erik smile like that gave me a strange sense of satisfaction.

Briefly I glanced down at the still kissing couple, then I looked away again, embarrassed about my curiosity. What was that fascinating about those people? It took me a moment to understand it: They were doing what I'd have liked to do as well, yet not with my husband, but with Erik. I blushed, my embarrassment growing by the second. What was wrong with me, thinking about kissing my former teacher while Raoul was sitting next to me?

Erik

Maybe Christine thought I hadn't noticed what she had been looking at, but of course I had. Her gaze had been drawn to the audience, and since I didn't assume an elderly woman eating chocolates or a man snoring gently made her cheeks flush that lovely shade of red, there weren't many possibilities left. Actually, there was just one: a man and a woman of about Christine's age who demonstrated in a rather impressive way that their love was still much fresher than that of the people on stage.

I watched them for a minute or two, watched their lips meet again and again, their hands hold each other tightly and their legs brushing against each other much too often for it to be a coincidence. I waited for the usual feeling of jealousy, yet surprisingly it didn't come. I didn't wish I were in the man's place. Why should I? Not even an hour ago I had kissed the most wonderful woman in the world. It was so much better than anything those people in the audience could do.

As if that thought had been a signal, I glanced over at Christine again. I jerked my head in the direction of the couple and gave her a slight smirk, just enough to indicate that I knew what she had looked at. She blushed even more deeply and bit her lip. Apparently she was embarrassed about me catching her having indecent thoughts. Of course I couldn't be sure she indeed had such thoughts, but I hoped she had. In fact, I even hoped she was having them about her and me. Yet again, I couldn't be sure.

Christine

Erik's gaze lingered on my face, making my cheeks burn. If only Raoul didn't notice anything! Yet he even seemed oblivious to the fact that I had bitten my lip. Obviously he actually enjoyed the opera, which was probably more than could be said about most people in the audience. Perhaps he was of the opinion that he supported my new musical ambitions by paying attention, or he had truly discovered his love for shallow plots. Whatever it was, I was grateful for it. It saved me a lot of awkward questions.

Sometimes I seriously wondered whether Erik could read my mind. His smirk showed very clearly that he knew I had imagined kissing him. It was quite embarrassing, yet also… comforting. That man sensed what I was feeling. It was more than what my husband did, at least at the moment. Raoul didn't even realise I was looking at another man all the time.

Once more, the image of two worlds came to my mind: Erik and I had one to ourselves, and no one else was allowed to enter it. Only a moment later did I notice that I had used the phrase ´Erik and I´ in my head, as if we were a unit. And I didn't even feel like correcting it. It sounded right. I smiled at the man in Box Five again.

For a few moments we were content merely looking at each other, letting our thoughts flow freely. It was a fantastic feeling, like having a soul mate. Yet it didn't last. Erik broke the eye contact to glance at his side, where, as I could see a second later, Philippe was slowly coming into a sitting position. The boy rubbed his eyes sleepily, and Erik put an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

It was then that I realised something: I could think about kissing him, but I also had to bear in mind that it could never happen again. Seeing my son had reminded me of the important fact that I had a family, a husband. Suppressing a sigh I leaned my head against Raoul's shoulder. He gave me a gentle smile and a kiss on the top of my head. It felt nice.

Erik

If somebody had told me yesterday that once I wouldn't be pleased about Philippe's presence, that person's life would have probably ended with the help of the Punjab Lasso. But now it was indeed like that. If the boy hadn't woken up, the moment between Christine and me wouldn't have been over that abruptly. As much as I loved him… couldn't be have slept just a little longer?

They way she had looked at me still made me shiver pleasantly. There had been so much tenderness and compassion in her gaze, so much… did I dare call it love? It had been as if no one but the two of us existed. I had been aware of the power of my voice, yet the fact that a gaze could be that special filled me with a new sense of understanding. It was fascinating, not only for the scientist in me.

I watched Christine move closer to her husband, realising that the old feeling of jealousy was back. During the second act it had been enough to look at her, but now I longed for more. Yet I had to face the truth, which she apparently had accepted more readily than I: Those few moments of bliss had been all I could have from her. Maybe I'd finally manage to deal with it.