Disclaimer: I still own nothing!
Erik was livid.
Back and forth he paced, back and forth, wall to wall, until he could almost feel the Champagne-colored carpet that lined his apartment disintegrate under his feet. Both hands clasped behind his back, his body language lent to one's mind the strong impression of a jungle cat, trapped in a cage.
Erik suddenly stopped and brought his fist down on the oak table beside him, hard. "Fuck!"
Ripping off his mask and running a hand through his dark hair, Erik recounted the mistakes he had made over the past two days. His most crucial error, of course, was his immense misjudgment of Christine.
Christine. Erik groaned and fell into the chair by his desk at the thought of the girl to whom he literally owed his life. He hadn't expected such a reaction from her. Not in a thousand years. Why should he? He could remember that most revealing conversation as though it were yesterday. Then again, was it really so revealing, after all?
Who knows how Meg and Christine had gotten onto the topic of angels in the first place, while strolling around their school's campus? However, Erik thought grudgingly, at the incredible rate of speech the ballet rat manages to attain on a daily basis, it's a small wonder that she should visit any topic under the sun at some point. Erik could remember so clearly Christine's response to one of that silly girl's questions.
"Well, of course there are angels. Dad always told me when I was little that the designated Angel of Music would find me at some point. I guess I'm still waiting." After that, the pair had rounded the corner of a building and were out of sight. At that point, however, Erik hadn't needed to hear any more. A plan was already hatching in his exceptional mind.
How could he have known to question the context of Christine's statement? I should have, came the same nagging voice. I took for granted what I already know, and made a stupid mistake.
A mistake that, if Erik had been careful, should leave no lasting ramifications. He's only know once the phone rang…
Suddenly, the sleek smartphone next to him on the oak surface trilled. Erik answered it on the first ring.
"The girl. She's all right?"
"Y-yes, Erik," answered a startled woman, caught off guard by the harshness of Erik's tone. "Meg took her home. She suspects nothing."
Erik relaxed somewhat at this, but his voice lost none if its steely edge. "And what happened after she woke up?"
"I told her what you told me. Fainting induced brought on by migraine headache. I fed her something then sent her home. There's really no cause to worry, you know. She thinks she dreamt you."
Erik's brow furrowed at the indignant tone she had taken on. Perhaps he had been too harsh, after all.
"Yes, well… I appreciate your help, Antoinette. You will be compensated."
A slight pause.
"Take care, Erik." Then a dial tone, and nothing more. Perhaps there was a touch of melancholy in this last utterance by the veteran dance teacher, but it was lost on Erik, who was already on his feet and determining his next course of action.
A/N: Another shorty. I lied! Big things cooking, though. BIG things.