AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you for all the reviews. As for the problem of Erik controlling Valencienne's mind, an issue which many of you address… I won't comment on that just now. It's of significance, of course (duh…), so the question will be discussed later on, so to say.
Pertie: Ah, cleverly thought there. But of course I'm not telling you yet. (Erik: He so loves being a tease, it's ridiculous…)
Beregond's Girl: Not forbidden to read other people's replies, or otherwise I wouldn't put them here. (Erik: Girl, I never had any morals to start with. Oh, and thanks for the cake and ice cream, it was appreciated.)
Bea: Yes, I knew you were wondering which one was the chapter in question. Maybe receiving spoilers regularly makes it even worse? No, I wasn't thinking of Bon Jovi. To be honest, I don't know a thing by Bon Jovi. (Erik: Hell, you expect me to be some kind of sex machine at my first time? Whew, love, now that's what I call trust in people! Jealous, eh? You can always have the key to my bedroom…)
jtbwriter: And someone who emphasizes the good sides in Erik's way of, ahem, going about his business, for a change. (lol) (Erik: Well, it's Hollywood basically. You get action, then you get sex, and then some action again. Right, kid? Oh yes, don't deny it. After all, who had problems with fitting al his many many DVDs on a shelf recently?)
Faye: And you're coming closer and closer… Yes, I'm a morbid little jerk. (snicker, snicker) (Erik: I really should consider that old wager idea…)
Anya: How well I remember… Thanks a lot for the compliment, it really is reassuring. KotC was very straight, so to say, mainly focusing on the fantasy aspects without an overly complicated plotline, while this one seems to be branching off, so to say, stretching over a longer expanse of time, including a lot more characters and locations, introducing "the world outside" at a rather difficult state, and at the same time focusing on the fantasy aspects even more strongly… Ah, and the first to ask about the title. Yes, it does have a significance, and it can actually be answered by reading KotC very carefully, and doing a bit of thinking, but it's not that obvious. Wait and see, as usual. Yes, and Valencienne has an important part in this (just check the "cast list"). (Erik: Welcome back. Oh, and I hope you won't resent my occasional bouts of desire, now will you? Yes, I know I'm being utterly unromantic… but I can't always lie around in the darkness and angst all over the place, now can I?)
The Musician of the Night: Feel free to ramble as much as you want, it can actually be quite entertaining. (Erik: Since the boy likes rambling at people himself…)
ChristinelovesPhantom: Am I being attacked by the Capslock of Doom? (snicker, snicker) (Erik: BEWARE! The boy is so easy to scare…)
The Hair: Ah, the name issue. I do have something in mind there. No, I don't know the book you mentioned, though I think I've heard of it. The thing about knowing someone's name giving you power over him is a motif I've encountered before, though, it even appears in some fairytales. Yes, I've read Kay's published fanfiction (for there's no other name for it, in my opinion), and I didn't lie it much. Some good ideas, but also some stuff where she should have read her Leroux more carefully, especially the stuff about Raoul and Christine. Ye gods, that annoyed me to no end. (Erik: Jelly beans, movies and mutilating your neighbour's car? It's a definite yes, my dear. Poke me, dare you!)
Busanda: Oh yes, I love my details, I can't deny it. I always spot such details, and they come to me automatically when I write, often stuff from my own experience. (Erik: Of course I know the computer, whatever the boy says. What are little Darth Gilthoron's powers compared to those of Lord Darth Angelus? … Oh well, perhaps I'm exaggerating a little… love ya, kid) Well, thanks. One has to be grateful for a little display of affection from one's own fanfic creation… (Erik: Sure. Now get your bum off your chair and get me something to eat.)
PhantomKiss: Of course he's a naughty Erik. (Erik: Yes indeed. Oh, another affair, perhaps? Though Mithril's not the kind of woman to give me trouble, no need to be worried – or hopeful. Still… I'm at your disposal.)

-.-.-

V. Too long you have wandered in Winter

Raoul had slipped into her bedroom once the lights had been turned out in the corridor. It was a risky thing to do, Christine knew, and endangering them both perhaps, if they were caught and some high-ranking Communard chose to investigate the two of them any closer, but she did not want him to go away again. She did not want to be alone right now.

Normally, she never was alone, not as long as she could feel Erik in her head. But at the moment Erik was… busy otherwise.

This was another reason why she was glad to have Raoul with her: Her fiancé would distract her from what sensations were coming to her through the connection she shared with the Phantom. It was easy enough to tell what he was doing, and it made her blush hotly, even though she desperately tried not to think of it. Oh, the images it brought to her mind! The shameful, sinful images!

And the worst about it was, she could not even quite tell if it was Raoul or Erik whom she saw in her mind. Or maybe both of them, only partially clothed and both lazing beside her lasciviously, a dire hunger in their eyes…

Lord above! She really needed to go to Confession one of these days.

But now Raoul was there, and he made it easier for her to ignore what came from the Phantom. He had sat down at the edge of her bed, and she took his hand and squeezed it gently. How sweet he looked, in the white linen shirt and trousers he usually wore in bed and with his sandy-coloured hair tousled! He might need a haircut again soon, it had grown rather long once more. Christine had not quite decided whether she preferred him with long or with short hair. But whichever way, he was her Raoul, once her childhood friend, now the man she loved.

"Wake up, sleeping beauty," Raoul whispered to her, mussing her long curls, and she could hear the suppressed laughter in his voice. "Your prince has arrived."

"Prince?" Christine sat up, her arms around her knees, and gave her fiancé a look of mock indignation. "My dear Monsieur Marin, you're an utterly unimportant violinist."

"Oh, but Mademoiselle Lachatelle, who is nothing but a chorus girl, I might add," Raoul snickered, "I am a first violinist. That does count for something."

"Oh, and very much so," Christine teased him. "Especially since you usually sit at the very hindmost musical stand and beside a certain Jean Leclair, who might be considered, for lack of a better word, notorious. I hope we understand each other."

"You know, you almost sound like Erik." Raoul laughed, dropping their pretence. "Only that he would additionally have pointed out that I even sit to Leclair's left, which means I play the lower, that is, easier, notes when it says divisi."

"Too right you are," Christine agreed, tickling him under the chin playfully. "And you sound like an experienced orchestra member already. What does divisi mean, exactly?"

"And I thought you knew a bit of Italian." Raoul pinched her nose, and she gently slapped his hand away. "It means divided, basically. You know, when there's a passage in the notes where you'd have to play two notes at once if you played it alone, it's tradition in the orchestra that the one on the right plays the higher and the one on the left the lower note. And since Leclair is a better violinist than I am, he's the one on the right."

"So the one on the right is the one with the more difficult part," Christine stated. "I see."

"Yes, but, also by tradition, the one on the left is the one who turns the page. Which is an additional difficulty, you might say."

"I see. That's fair, probably." She interlaced her fingers with his. "But Raoul, you're a good violinist."

Leaning over to her, he tenderly placed a kiss on her forehead. "That's sweet of you, little lamb. Your father was a good teacher, and the one I had after him taught me a lot, too, but I'm just no proper musician. All I do is try not to draw too much attention to myself while swimming along with the others somehow. Leclair really is better than me. I mean, he's a good violinist, actually – if he doesn't doze during rehearsals or turn to look what's going on up on the stage while playing, that is."

"But you're good enough not to be noticed," Christine insisted.

"Hah! I'm just good enough not to be noticed by the bloody Communards, and they have bloody pigs' ears as far as music is concerned. Yesterday Erik made a list of all I managed to mess up during Il Muto, and it was quite long. And don't go and tell him off now, he was kind enough to go through my notes with me. Otherwise I might have messed it up even worse."

"You're not that bad," Christine comforted her fiancé, "whatever Erik might tell you. You know he likes teasing you." Or sometimes it was more taunting than teasing, and Christine did not really like it very much, but at the same time the Phantom gave the impression that he would rip anyone to shreds who tried to harm Raoul, so she rarely commented on it, only if his remarks grew too scathing.

"And I tease him right back, so what the Hell." Accompanied by his boyish snicker Christine found so endearing, Raoul nudged her aside a little to get his legs under the blanket. "For example, I painted his mask a bit yesterday."

"You did? Oh, Raoul, he must have been furious!" Strange she had not felt anything of the like during the whole day.

Oh, and Lord above, what was building up right now… Did he really have to… get so intimate?

"Furious? No. Not much, actually. It was just a bit of ink, really. He threw a soaked sponge at my head and made me wash it off again, that was about all. Oh, and he held my head under the water in the washbasin in the gentlemen's room that afternoon." Raoul shrugged. "Just the usual."

"He normally holds your head under the water? God, that's childish." Something like that from grown men… Especially the Phantom was too old for this!

And if he did not stop what he was currently doing soon… But this was the trouble, she could not simply intervene. What was she to do, tell him to stop? It would be just too embarrassing. And who knew, if he managed to pull her in in some way, instead of an answer…

"Well, why not?" Raoul leaned over to her and kissed her temple. "What's the matter with you, love, shifting around like that? Do you itch somewhere or what? Shall I scratch you, perhaps?" He really had the sweetest of snickers imaginable.

"Don't be silly," she said hastily. Heavens, if this perhaps caught on and grabbed hold of her too… and Raoul was with her… At once it occurred to her that something might happen between them that was not quite planned.

To be honest, it had happened once before, but she had managed to convince Raoul that any more activities of that kind should better be postponed until they were married, and he had agreed, though a little grudgingly. Yet if Erik continued like this, if those waves of pleasure grew even stronger… She might just forget herself.

Oh, Erik, please, come to an end! Stop this! Or at least finish it quickly, please!

Heavens, what if he continued like this for hours and hours? What if he took all night?

Raoul's arm slid around her shoulders tenderly. "What's the matter with you? A little bit twitchy, are we? Are there ants on the sheet or something?"

"Raoul, please…"

"No, really. What's wrong? Fleas? Bedbugs? Cockroaches?"

"Raoul, that's horrible!" Christine shuddered at the mere idea of cockroaches in her bed.

"I'll keep on guessing if you don't tell me."

His breath tickled her cheek, and she felt inclined to cuddle against him, but she was afraid she might lose control over herself if she came too close to him. "Raoul… I think it would be better if you just sat on the edge of my bed again."

"Why?" Was she just imagining it, or did he really sound a little hurt? "Do I make you itch? Or do I… wait, do I make you feel like a decent girl is not supposed to feel?" She could hear it in his voice that he was grinning. "So you've seen reason at last, love, right? I mean, we're engaged for something, aren't we?"

"Raoul! Honestly!" Christine protested. "Look, it's… it's Erik's fault. He's doing something at the moment, something… well, you can probably guess what he's doing. And it comes to me over that connection between us, I can't help it." She was sure that her cheeks were deep crimson now.

"Erik? You must be kidding." Raoul laughed softly beside her, not moving away from her in the slightest. "You mean he's in bed with a girl? Hear, hear. Who is she? Not Meg, by any chance? I always suspected there was something going on between them."

Meg? "I don't think so," Christine said, trying to banish the disturbing images from her mind. The Phantom and her best friend… Of course they got on well together, no, more than this, they were very close, but picturing that… "I don't know who she is, and I don't want to know any details," she said decidedly.

But on the other hand… Some part of her did want to know. Until now, Erik had been there for her, and only for her. When he now loved another woman, she wanted to know whom she would have to share his affection with from now on.

No. It was his own business. It was none of hers. He did not belong to her. How could she put a claim to him if she had rejected him earlier on? She had chosen Raoul over him, so Erik was free to offer his love to someone else. It would be cruel to demand of him to stay devoted to her forever while she belonged to another.

And still… Of course, he was very fond of Meg and her mother, and he was friends with a few other women as well, at least more or less, but until now she had always been his only one, the sole focus of his attention. While Raoul had been away, he had been there for her, and he had soothed and comforted her, despite the grief it caused him that when she threw her arms around his neck, it was only to cry for the one she had chosen over him.

She had been selfish, she felt. How could she ever expect him to stay like this forever, to love her and not be loved in return? What gave her the right to ask such a thing of him?

"I'll find out in the morning, then." Raoul snickered happily. "That does the old villain some good, getting to follow his instincts at last. And he can't be all over you when there's another girl expecting him to moon over her. Christine, that's absolutely brilliant!"

"I'm glad for him," Christine murmured. They both would have to learn to let go at last.

"So." Raoul was grinning broadly now. "And he's definitely having fun, and his current state is… contagious?"

"You might put it like that," Christine conceded, trying to sit as stiffly as possible.

"So you might call it luck I'm here, right? Come on, lie down again. There's a good girl. And now kiss me, how's that? A little kiss for your fluffy little cuddle-bear?"

"Raoul!" What was he doing there? What was he planning to do? "Do you mean to… take advantage of the situation?" She tried to sit up again, but he held her tight, lying half over her and kissing the side of her neck. "Raoul, we can't just – Stop it!"

"Why not?" he snickered, making no move to withdraw his hand from under the hem of her nightgown. "We would have been married already if not for the bloody Commune. So why let the Commune triumph over us?"

"It's not proper!" Oh, please, please take your hand away!

"Who cares?"

"I do!" And the worst about it was, she liked that hand to be under her nightshirt. In her current condition, how should she protest? How could she? She was not supposed to participate in any kind of activities Raoul seemed to have in mind right now, and she meant to keep him from it, but on the other hand, she wanted him to very much, just to soothe the hungry flame Erik had lit inside her.

Oh, Erik, was that really necessary?

Of course, it was good for him; he had craved for a woman's loving touch for far too long, all alone in his cold, dark cellars. He needed it. It would make him stronger.

Though it might also make him more vulnerable, but Christine did not want to consider that. She could not focus on anything any longer, anyway.

"As if we've never done it before," Raoul muttered dismissively, withdrawing his hand at last, but only to fumble with the few little buttons at the front of her nightdress. "Here, let me help you."

"But only this one time, and it was wrong then." Heavens, he was so absolutely right! Who would care? Who would ever find out? "We can't just do things like that." Yes, why not? "God sees everything."

"God doesn't give a damn." Sitting up, Raoul helped her out of her nightshirt, smothering her feeble attempts at resistance with caresses and kisses. "God doesn't bloody care. No, sorry, I'm not supposed to say things like that, but it's… it really doesn't matter. It just doesn't, alright? It's just our private little secret."

Yes, it was, it really was. He had been talking a lot to Erik lately, judging from what he said, but it wasn't important. Nothing was. Only their love.

No, she couldn't just…

Only this one time, a little voice whispered temptingly inside her head. Only this one time…

Which was the second time, in fact.

Yes, so there was nothing to lose anymore, or was there? Either way, she would not be a virgin anymore when she stood before the altar.

She was not supposed to do it, but it did not change anything. Not anymore.

Leaning down to her, Raoul tenderly brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "I love you," he murmured to her, his breath tickling her cheek, and the feeling that this was a forbidden moment they shared, against all bonds and conventions as it seemed to her, made her heart go faster. "God forgive me, but I do."

"I love you too, Raoul." Could she not forget all the death and destruction around her for just one night? Should she not be allowed to seek blissful oblivion in her fiancé's arms?

As he began to struggle with her undergarments, she smacked his hands away gently, but only to pull his shirt over his head. Laughing softly, he threw it out of the bed, then leaned down to kiss her greedily. His skin was smooth under her touch, smooth and warm.

And soon the Phantom's intense pleasure was mingled with her own.