Disclaimer: see Chap 1
CHAPTER THREE
He stayed in his lair for two days, alternating between sorrow and rage, and then he couldn't take it any longer. He had to see her, to make sure that the woman who haunted his dreams and his music had not vanished.
When he went up to the opera house, he went to the stage, where everyone was rehearsing. And there was Selene, wearing her light purple dress and playing the piano for the dancers. She looked tired, but she was concentrated on her playing.
Erik kept his eyes on her the entire rehearsal. He couldn't stop looking at her, wondering at her presence. Any sane woman would have left the opera house and run to the opposite side of the country. But she'd told him she wasn't afraid of him. Was that why she'd stayed? Impossible.
As soon as rehearsals were over, Selene retired to her room. She wasn't feeling well, worrying about Erik, alone in his dark thoughts. She got to her room and sank down onto the bed with a sigh. She was so tired...
Erik watched her close her eyes, and stepped silently through the mirror. "Selene."
The musical voice made her eyes fly open, and she gasped. "Erik!"
"Why are you here?" he questioned.
"Rehearsals are over," she said blankly.
"No," he said impatiently, "why are you here? You are free now, why do you stay?"
"Because I do not want to go," Selene said. "Where else would I find a position like this?"
He frowned. Of course she had stayed for the money. People needed money to live.
"And," Selene continued softly, seeing the frown on his face, "I didn't want to leave you."
He loomed over her, completely bewildered. "Why?"
She sighed, frustrated. "Because you are a good man," she said, "and because you are my friend, and because I'd hoped..." she trailed off, her eyes on the ground.
"Hoped what?" he asked, his breath caught in his chest.
"I'd hoped..." she started, slowly meeting his gaze. But the words didn't come. So she acted. She took a swift step forward and pulled off his mask, and pressed her lips to his own, cupping his face in her hands.
He stayed frozen in shock, and then his body took over on instinct and returned the kiss. He wrapped his arms around her slim waist and held her to him, barely believing that this was happening.
She finally pulled away, breathless and dizzy. "That's why," she said, gasping slightly.
He released her reluctantly, equally short of breath. "Oh." And then he broke, overwhelmed with emotions, unable to believe that she had just kissed him, the monster of the night. But now that she had, he couldn't let her go. "Please don't leave," he begged, reaching out to her again. "Forgive me."
She wrapped her arms around him, smiling and crying at the same time. "You are forgiven," she said, kissing his scarred cheek lightly. "I won't leave. I'm not going anywhere. But don't ever send me away again."
He clutched her desperately, pure joy rushing through him, his face tingling where she'd kissed him. "Selene," he whispered, daring to kiss her again.
She received it eagerly, and ran her hands through his hair.
There was a knock on the door. They both froze and broke away.
"Who is it?" Selene called, trying to regain her composure.
"Marcel Dubois, mademoiselle," the voice replied. He was a cellist.
She went to the door and opened it slightly. "Oui, monsieur?"
"A bunch of us from the orchestra are going out to dinner tomorrow, and we thought you'd like to come," he said, smiling hopefully. "You are a great pianist, after all."
"Thank you for the invitation," Selene said, smiling.
He gave her a short bow and left. "Bonsoir."
"Bonsoir." She closed the door and turned back to Erik.
He glared at the closed door. "Insolent fool," he muttered.
She laughed in delight and took his hands. "Jealousy, over me?" she asked, smiling.
"Yes," he said, bringing her closer. "You are mine." Seeing her shiver, and remembering her experiences, he added hesitantly, "If you wish it."
"Oh, most definitely monsieur," she said, squeezing his hands. "And you are mine."
He grinned. No one had ever laid claim to him before, and it was thrilling.
They shared a happy smile, and then Selene asked softly, "So what now?"
He frowned. "What do you mean, mon Ange?"
"How do we proceed?" she asked. "I have a job here, now. And if we are, courting," she blushed, "we can't exactly go out to dinner."
"Well the first step, I believe, is for you to rest. You've had a long day." He kissed her hand softly. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For not coming to you sooner."
She squeezed his hands tightly. "I thought we agreed you are forgiven." She pulled him over to the divan and they both sat down. "But after today?"
"Then you have a dinner to attend with your fellow orchestra," he said.
"Erik," she complained, scowling playfully at him.
He grinned. "You shall continue to play the piano. I will run the opera house and watch over you. And when you want to see me, you can come down. And when I want to see you, I will come here." He leaned forward to kiss her very gently. "And we shall have picnics on the rooftop when it's nice out."
She laughed and dropped her head onto his shoulder. "It sounds perfect."
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. For the first time ever, he was content. He had Selene, and everything was perfect.
"Sing for me?" she requested, looking up at him hopefully.
"What shall I sing?" he asked. He'd never refused a request to play or sing since the first day they'd met.
"Anything," she said, "I don't know. I just want to hear your voice."
He smiled, and thought of an idea which he'd been composing for a while now. "Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness stirs, and wakes imagination..."
Selene listened to his beautiful voice as it wrapped around her, the velvety tones soothing her very soul. Before she knew it, she was asleep, finally resting since she'd come up to the opera house.
Erik caught her as she began to slip forward off the couch. He smiled tenderly, and moved her to the bed. "Sleep well, mon Ange," he said, kissing her temple. He exited through the mirror.
The next few weeks passed in a blissful haze for the two of them. Rehearsals were nearly finished, and they were each busy with their jobs. But the nighttime belonged to just the two of them. Selene would escape to the lair for a few hours in the evening, and even if they didn't even speak while Erik was composing or she was painting, she came away to her room feeling happier than before.
And the change in Erik was amazing. He smiled, now, and he stopped terrorizing the Prima Donna and the other members of the cast. He wanted to be the man that Selene thought he was, and he was trying. His compositions became happier, softer, and when he slept his nightmares tended to stay away.
Mme. Giry came to visit one of the evenings that Selene was there. She had to pause on the threshold and smile at the scene.
Erik was reading aloud from a book, Selene curled up next to him, sipping a cup of tea. And Erik was unmasked. He was truly letting her into his heart.
Mme. Giry cleared her throat noisily to let them know she was coming, and proceeded the last few steps. She noted fondly that Selene stood up to shield Erik while he slipped the mask into place. "Good evening," she said.
"Madame Giry," Erik said courteously.
"Tea?" Selene asked.
"No, thank you, I only came to see how our favorite opera ghost is faring."
"Very well thank you," Erik said, his tone suggesting she could leave now. He cherished his few hours with Selene, and he was very jealous.
"And I came to ask about Christine Daae," Mme Giry continued.
Erik froze, and turned pale. "I'd forgotten," he muttered, astonished. Since Selene came into his life, he'd entirely forgotten that his other pupil even existed. Five whole weeks without a single thought of her, or her lessons.
"Who?" Selene asked, glancing from one to the other.
"Christine Daae, a girl in the ballet," Erik explained. "She came here when she was seven years old. I've been teaching her to sing. Her voice, Selene, her voice is the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. She has the potential to be Prima Donna, and I was helping her." He frowned. "But I haven't seen her in weeks. I'd forgotten." He turned to Mme. Giry. "Is she well?"
"She has been very quiet," Mme. Giry said. "She fears somehow she has displeased her Angel of Music. I think you should go to her, Erik. Explain, somehow."
"Angel of Music?" Selene asked, raising an eyebrow.
"She thinks I'm the ghost of her father," Erik said distractedly.
Selene's eyes widened. "Why would you tell her that?"
"I couldn't teach her otherwise," Erik said. "Would you, as a seven year old, accept the phantom of the opera teaching you how to sing?"
"Probably not," Selene said. "How old is she now?"
"16," Mme. Giry supplied.
"And she is very close to being ready," Erik mused.
"She's better than Carlotta, yes?" Selene asked anxiously. The current prima donna made her wish she was deaf.
"Christine and Carlotta cannot even be compared," Erik sniffed arrogantly. "You think I would teach someone with Carlotta's voice?"
Selene smiled at him. "Only the best for the phantom of the opera," she said dramatically.
He smiled and kissed her cheek. "Which is why I chose you," he said.
She blushed.
Mme. Giry smiled. It was wonderful to see Erik so human, and caring. "Will you go to Christine, give her a reason for your absence?" Mme. Giry asked.
"It's too late tonight. Tomorrow, she should come to the chapel," Erik decided.
"Very well. Good night, both of you. Selene, don't stay too late."
Selene nodded. "I'll be right up." She turned to Erik. "You have to tell her who you are. She can't go on believing that you're an angel. When she finds out the truth it'll be a shock."
"No," Erik protested. "She's not like that."
"How do you know?"
That was a good point. He didn't know how Christine would react. She was so innocent. And he was so... not.
"You have to tell her."
"Not yet," he said.
"When?" Selene asked.
"When it is time." But he knew if he had his way, he would never tell her.
And from the look on Selene's face as she bid him good-night, she knew it too.
The next evening, Erik was waiting for Christine in the chapel. "Angel?" she asked timidly, looking around.
"Christine," he sang softly, and was pleased when she smiled.
"Oh, Angel, I thought you'd forgotten me," she said, relieved. "Have I displeased you?"
"Never," he said, smiling at her eagerness. "Have you been practicing?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"Good. Sing to me."
She began to sing the last piece he'd put her to work on, and he closed his eyes to let the music flow over him. Her voice truly was beautiful, but for some reason, every time she sang, the face that came into his mind was Selene.
"That was beautiful," said the voice of his love.
Erik's eyes snapped open to look into the chapel, surprised. There stood Selene, smiling at a terrified Christine.
"Oh," Christine gasped, staring. "I... I thought I was alone."
"You have such a lovely voice," Selene said wistfully. "I wish I could sing like that." She gave the girl an encouraging smile. "Who taught you to sing like that?"
Erik's eyes narrowed. What was she doing?
"Oh," Christine said blankly. "I have a private tutor."
"That's wonderful. Does he work here at the opera?"
Erik's eyes widened. She knew perfectly well who he was. He frowned when he figured it out. She was trying to make him reveal himself. Fine then. "Selene," he sang softly, ethereally.
Christine's eyes widened to the size of saucers.
Selene smiled softly. "Oh I see..." She took Christine's hand and squeezed it comfortingly. "I believe you and I have the same teacher, Christine."
"What?" Christine asked, amazed.
"How do you think I play the piano so well?" Selene asked. "We both perform for the same man."
"Man?" Christine echoed.
"Yes." Selene wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulders.
"But that can't be. He is an angel of music."
"People can be beautiful musicians, too."
"I don't believe you," Christine said, shaken. How could her angel of music be a man?
Selene nodded, and to everyone's surprise, sang softly, "Angel of Music, guide and guardian, hide no longer, secret and strange angel..."
Erik couldn't help but gape. He'd never heard her sing before. She wasn't amazing like Christine, but she did have a good voice unlike what she claimed, and somehow, hearing her sing made his entire soul fill up with happiness. And she was singing to him. Then he realized that was his cue, and reluctantly, he opened the secret entrance and stepped through the wall. "You are my angels of music," he sang to them softly, giving them a bow and holding a hand out to Selene.
She took his hand and stood by his side, still holding Christine's hand. "Christine Daae, may I present to you my friend the Phantom of the Opera, our angel of music."
Christine stared, equally amazed and terrified. "You- you are my Angel?" she inquired.
"Yes, child," he said.
His voice was unmistakable. It was him. Christine's eyes began to fill with tears. Her father had not sent her an angel, after all, only a ghost.
"Don't cry," Selene said, wrapping the younger girl in a hug. "Can't you see this is a good thing?"
"But he is not an angel," Christine said, afraid to look at him. "My father..."
"Your father would be proud of you," Selene said, "so proud of you. How do you know he didn't send the phantom to teach you? Didn't he protect you, guide you, all these years? And now you are worthy of the role of prima donna. Isn't that enough?"
Christine bowed her head, ashamed. "Yes," she admitted. She looked up at Erik. "Forgive me, monsieur, for being ungrateful."
"All is forgiven," he promised, relieved that Selene had been there to talk to the girl. He gave them both a smile. "Come, we must finish your lesson, Christine."
"Should I go?" Selene asked.
He held out a hand to stop her. "No, my dear, don't go." He took her hand and they sat on the window ledge. "Now, Christine. From the top."
Christine smiled at the two. It was obvious they were in love. "Oui, monsieur."
After Christine left the chapel, Erik and Selene returned to the lair. "That was not a nice thing to do," Erik told his beloved, frowning.
"I know, Erik, I'm sorry. But just think. Christine has accepted you as a person, and she didn't run away."
He kissed her forehead softly. "Only because you were there, ma Cherie. Thank you."
"You're quite welcome." She smiled. "Dinner?"
"That would be lovely."