Disclaimer: see Chap 1

CHAPTER SIX

A week before New Year's they returned to the opera house to get ready for the masquerade. They decided that Erik would design Selene's costume, and she would design his, and they'd both be a complete surprise.

The day of the Masquerade, they revealed their designs to each other. "Artemis, goddess of the moon," Erik said, holding up the costume with a flourish. The dress was a pale, shimmering silver with a delicate grey embroidery. It had a cape that flowed around the dress and trailed slightly on the floor, and on it was embroidered a hunting scene taking place in the full moon. Besides the dress were a pair of silver elbow length gloves, and a beautiful mask embroidered with silver owl feathers and sparkling jewels around the eyes.

"It's so beautiful," Selene said, trailing her fingers over the material. "Why Artemis?"

"Your name means moon, doesn't it?"

"Oh yes." She kissed his cheek.

"I'm glad you like it." He glanced over at the cloth bundle on the bed curiously.

Selene picked it up with a smile and pulled back the cloth. "The Angel of Music."

Erik stared. It was a completely black suit with a white shirt and a gold waistcoat. And there was a harness that went underneath the jacket. It had two white wings that swept up in the air and sparkled gold. And with it was a full ivory white face mask with accents of gold on the cheeks. His eyes started to fill up with tears. "Selene, how..."

"This is how I see you," Selene said simply. "Christine may have lost the illusion but I never will."

He put down the outfit and swept her up in his arms. "I love you," he murmured, kissing her again. "I love you, so much."

She smiled against his lips and hugged him tightly. "I love you too." She pulled back slightly. "Now I have to go get ready."

They both looked otherworldly when they were fully dressed, and they discreetly joined the festivities upstairs. They did not expect everyone to stare at them as they danced.

"Why are they all looking at us?" Erik asked quietly.

Selene smiled and whispered, "Because we're the best dressed couple in the place, obviously."

"Obviously," Erik repeated, with pride.

After the dance ended, someone approached them. It was a harlequin. "May I have this dance?" It was Dubois.

Selene glanced at Erik and received a brief nod. "Of course monsieur," Selene said.

Dubois' jaw dropped open. "Selene? Is that you?"

"Yes indeed."

He led her out to the dance floor. "Where've you been for three months?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, I've been traveling."

"I see." He glanced over at Erik. "Who is that?"

"Hm? That's Erik. He's a patron of the opera." Selene lowered her voice. "But don't tell anyone, he makes very charitable donations and he's very shy."

Dubois raised an eyebrow. "Are you in love, Selene?"

She blushed. "Absolutely."

Erik couldn't stand watching her any longer and cut in. "Thank you," he said, sweeping Selene away to the other side of the ball room.

"Jealous, much, my love?" she asked teasingly.

"Very."

She rested her head on his shoulder.

After the masquerade everyone returned to their jobs. The Phantom continued his phantoming, and Selene returned to her piano. And Carlotta moved back to Italy.

The entire thing was quite sudden. One moment, Carlotta was being her usual prima donna self and the next, she was weeping and wailing and yelling for her doggie. "My mama is dying!" she wailed in Piangi's arms, fanning herself with the letter. "I musta return to Italia! Bring my doggie!" She glared at Christine. "You! You will take ma place. And you will not mess up! You will be my legacy! And I still a-hate my 'at! Goodbye! Ubaldo, andiamo!" And she was gone.

Selene stared at the spot where Carlotta had been standing, and glanced up at the dark ceiling to see if Erik had heard. A whoosh of cape assured her that yes, he had.

As soon as rehearsals were over she ventured downstairs and found him composing furiously. "Erik?" she asked curiously.

"Shhh," he said, "I'm working."

She rolled her eyes and went to make some dinner. "Hungry?" she asked.

"Shhhhhh," he said.

"I think I'll sleep upstairs," she said.

"Shhh."

She left the lair after having some bread and cheese and went to bed. It was too cold to sleep in the lair without Erik by her side. She tossed and turned, and finally fell into a fitful sleep.

"Selene, are you making tea?" Erik asked, sometime later when he felt the rumbling in his stomach.

There was no reply.

He looked up from his desk and glanced around. "Selene?" She wasn't there. His first instinct was to panic, and then he realized she must have gone to bed. He checked in the bedroom, and found it empty. She must have gone upstairs. But why? He climbed up through the cellars and found her in her room, sleeping. He knelt down beside her. "Selene," he whispered, touching her soft cheek lightly.

"Mm?" Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him drowsily. "Erik."

"Why aren't you downstairs?" he asked.

She shrugged. "You were busy and it's far too cold down there by myself."

He frowned guiltily. He'd brushed her off and ignored her. "I'm sorry, mon ange," he said, leaning over to kiss her. "Come back with me?"

"You don't need to finish what you were working on?"

He shook his head. "I'm done for tonight."

"All right." She got out of bed and wrapped up in a thick robe and slippers. "What are you working on?"

"It's a surprise," he said, giving her a mysterious look.

She gave him a persuasive look. "You won't even tell me?"

"No," he said. "It's absolutely secret."

Erik worked furiously for a month and a half, careful not to neglect his wife. Even if it was just for a few hours each night he would lay down and sleep, curled up against her side.

Finally, it was finished. He finished the final note with a flourish and stacked the papers. "Selene?"

"Yes dear?" She was painting a miniature forest scene, and didn't even look over at him as she was filling in the underbrush.

"I've finished it."

She put her paintbrush down then, and came over. "What is it?"

He showed her the cover. "An opera."

"An opera?" she said in disbelief. "A full opera?"

"Yes." He wrapped an arm around her waist and leaned against her happily. "My masterpiece."

"What's it about?" she asked curiously.

He picked it up and placed it in her hands. "I want you to read it," he said solemnly. "And you will tell me if it can be performed."

"Me?" she asked, surprised. "Not Nadir, or Antoinette? Not even M. Reyer?"

"No," he said firmly. "I want you to be the first to read it."

She smiled and kissed him lightly. "Thank you."

He nodded, slightly embarrassed for once. "I hope you like it."

"I will," she said confidently.

Selene took it to bed that night with a candle, and while Erik slept, exhausted from writing, she read. She read the entire opera from start to finish, and at the end she cried. It was the story of a lonely, scarred, isolated man who saved a woman's life, and they fell in love, hiding their love from the rest of the world. Then finally they decide to escape from their dreary world and fly to the undiscovered country. As they are leaving on their wings of light, the man is caught, and, thought to be an evil spirit, is killed, leaving the woman to continue on her journey alone, with a heavy heart.

"Did you like it?" Erik asked groggily, as she blew out the candle and lay down.

"It is a true masterpiece," she replied, kissing his cheek. "The music, the lyrics, the scenes, the pacing, brilliant. Only one question."

"Yes?"

"Why does the male lead die at the end?"

"So they can be forever free, my love," he replied cryptically.

Selene sighed contentedly and snuggled into his warm arms. "For a while there, until the end, I thought it was the story of us. Our meeting, our love, our journey. You put our song in it, as well."

He went so still beside her that she was startled.

She sat up and stared at him in the dim light from the fire, trying to make out his expression. "Is it, Erik?" she asked.

He nodded slowly. "Yes."

She gaped at him.

"You were a miracle," he said honestly. "I couldn't help but tell our story in music."

"And the end, Erik?" she asked breathlessly, worriedly. "What about the end?"

"That will be our beginning," he said.

"Explain," she said firmly.

He shifted uncomfortably. "It's late, my dear."

"I don't care. If you have a plan, Erik, please, tell it to me."

He sighed and sat up so he could face her. "Selene, my love, we live in a cave next to a lake five cellars below the ground floor of an opera house. I am a phantom and you are a piano player who cannot tell anyone you are no longer Mademoiselle Pascale but Madame Destler." Here he kissed her.

"And?" she asked.

He smoothed the hair away from her brow. "And you are a beautiful, artistic, talented woman who belongs in the light," he said. "In a home with windows and proper heating and a garden where you can sit and paint to your heart's content. And I..." he paused to gather his thoughts, "I weary of being a phantom, only existing as shadows and letters. I want to be a man, I want to be seen with my wife on my arm and not worry about the fate of the opera house." He locked eyes with her, his gaze determined. "I want us to leave the opera, Selene. For good."

"For good?" she gasped. It had been his home for so many years she didn't think he'd ever want to leave.

"For good," he said firmly. "I want to travel the world with you, Selene, and write songs while you paint, and play duets with you on the piano."

She leaned forward and kissed him tenderly. "Anywhere you go, let me go, too," she said, quoting from a well-known scripture.

"Good," he said, laying down and pulling her down to lay on his shoulder. "Then we start production tomorrow."

"What?"

"Yes. Christine will be the female lead, playing you. I wrote it specifically for her voice. Since we are leaving I wanted this to be her performance just for us. I will perform the male lead, playing myself. We will pretend that Piangi's replacement is singing but I will replace him at the last minute. And you, my dear, will be the orchestral lead."

"What?"

"I wrote the music so the piano takes the lead role in every song, and the rest of the orchestra complements it." He kissed her nose playfully. "You, my dear, will be the third lead."

She smiled. "And after the performance?" she asked. "Are we going to leave after the full run?"

He shook his head and lowered his head near her ear. Very quietly, he explained his plan.

Selene could only stare at the ceiling for a few moments, digesting the plan. "Sounds very dramatic," was all she said.

"Oh it will be," he said, with relish. "A performance worthy of the phantom."

"You will be careful, won't you?"

"Of course my love."

She nodded slowly. "Sounds like fun."

The next morning Erik took the opera to the managers, and the opera was put into rehearsals at once. Selene and Christine were working the hardest since they were the stars of the show. And after rehearsals they would both practice with Erik. Christine knew part of the plan, and she was glad to help.

Monsieur Reyer approached Selene one day after rehearsals. "You did well today, mademoiselle."

She smiled. "Thank you, monsieur."

"Tell me, mlle, what do you know of the phantom of the opera?"

She gaped at him. "The phantom, monsieur?"

"Yes. Surely you know of him."

"Yes..."

"That's good. I thought you might have encountered him, seeing as he's given you such a major part in it." He smiled at her knowingly. "Only two people have been tutored by the phantom, mademoiselle, and Christine Daae is one."

"How did you know?" Selene asked quietly, looking around for any eavesdroppers.

"When you play, you perform for someone in particular," he said frankly, "and don't think I haven't noticed your glances up to the rafters. And..." he took her left hand, where she'd forgotten to take off her wedding ring.

"Oh," Selene said quietly, blushing.

He patted her hand. "He is a good man, my dear. I'm glad he has you."

She could only stare at him. "How do you know him?"

"Oh, it was a long time ago, my dear. I'd just come to the opera house, and the orchestra was in awful shape. I scolded them well and got a decent sound out of them, and that evening I found a letter on my desk, from the Opera Ghost. He congratulated me on having a fine ear and hoped that I would continue to bring harmony to the opera, as well as a page and a half of commands disguised as suggestions." He grinned wryly. "And he was right, every single time. From then on I have listened to all the phantom's instructions."

"Oh."

He smiled. "Good night my dear." And he headed off to his own rooms.

Selene made her way down to the lair thoughtfully and found Erik working on stage set mockups. "M. Reyer knows," she said, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Knows what?" Erik asked absently, relaxing into her embrace.

"He knows our relationship," she said. "I forgot to take my ring off and he put the pieces together. He thinks I'm good for you."

"M. Reyer is a very clever man," he replied, leaning up to kiss her. "He will keep our secret."

"Yes he will."

The weeks passed in a flurry of work. Erik demanded perfection of absolutely everyone, from stage hands to the actors, and in the evenings Christine, Erik, and Selene would practice in the lair. When Selene listened to them singing, chills would go down her spine, and it felt like the angels themselves were singing. And sometimes, even though she squashed it, she was so jealous of their rapport.

Erik noticed it one night, after Christine had gone back up to bed. Selene was sitting at the piano, staring at the keys absent-mindedly. "Tired?" Erik asked, placing gentle hands on her shoulders.

"Just thinking," she said, forcing a smile at him.

He sat on the bench next to her. "About what, my love?"

"Christine," she said absently.

"What about her?"

Selene sighed. "Never mind. It's nothing. Let's just go to bed."

He put an arm around her waist, holding her lightly. If she truly wanted to drop it, she could get away, but from the look on her face she wanted to talk. "Tell me," he requested.

She sighed again. "I'm jealous."

"Of what?" he asked, going over his behavior over the last few weeks, trying to see if he'd been acting improperly. "What did I do?"

"It's not you," she assured him, "and Christine hasn't done anything either, it's just..." she trailed off. "You and she... you have the most beautiful voices in the world, and when you sing, something magical happens. I wish... I wish I could sing like that, that we could have that moment." She sighed. "Never mind. I'm just tired." She tried to pull away again, but Erik's arm held tighter. "Erik, please let go."

He cupped her cheek and made her face him. "Selene," he said softly, "my beautiful, amazing wife, please, listen." He waited until she was looking at him before he spoke. "Christine has a beautiful voice yes, but she is not you. She has never even seen my face, she doesn't know me as anything except the phantom, and her tutor. You are the one that knows all of me, my past, and my face, and you still accept me. You are the one that paints and draws, and you are the one that makes the piano work wonders. And when we sing together, Selene, it makes me happier than anything, not because of your voice, but because it's you." He kissed her gently. "Don't ever be jealous, my love."

She smiled at him, happy tears in her eyes. "I'll try not to."

He kissed her again and helped her up. "Let's get some rest, my dear. It's been a long day."