Chapter 22- Hopelessly

Calotta and Piangi had just about taking over the whole building. Christine had not realised quite how bad it would be, them both there, everywhere. If it wasn't the shrill of her voice or the smell of his cologne, it was their private staff. She shook her head and she rubbed the moisture off her body after rehearsals.

'Hannibal' the new production, was coming along quite well, much better than Christine or Meg had anticipated. She had been chosen for the chorus again, along with most of the dancers, this was a big production and needed many members of cast to fill it. The costume designers and makers had used their ingenuity by digging out some old costumes used in an opera a few years before. Fortunately for them the lead male in that had been somewhat robust too.

Piangi stepped past her and looked down at her, along the edge of his nose. She wondered if he ever got bored of living in Carlotta's shadow, of being her little puppy dog. She supposed not, they were well suited for each other.

Christine was not one of those people who simply disliked people because they did not fit in, she had fought against this so hard in her past that the thought of it made her feel sick. There was just something about them, something about their arrogance, something about the way they spoke to people...

'Ubaldo!'

Christine winced at the pitch of Carlotta's voice, and the diva made no attempt to hide her distaste as she walked past. The two of them started to chatter to each other in very fast Italian, Christine could understand some of it but not a lot, it had been a very long time since she had been to Italy.

With only a month to go until opening night Carlotta's face on the posters had made the show a popular one. Tickets for opening night had sold out in less than a day, a record she was sure, tickets for the next two weeks were selling out quickly too. People wanted to see La Carlotta and they wanted to see Ubaldo Piangi. As much as she hated to admit it, perhaps they were a positive addition to the Opera Populair... at least they were selling tickets now.

The world adored her, France adored her, and Christine would just have to get used to that. One person she knew Carlotta was irritating beyond all realms of normality was Erik. He had withheld judgement on her until he had heard her first rehearsal. That night he had come to give Christine a lesson and had spent the first fifteen minutes in a full fronted attack on La Carlotta's abilities.

Christine had gently pointed out that tickets were selling phenomenally well and he had scoffed at this, telling her that he would rather the Opera house closed than destroy his integrity.

She wondered what he meant.

But then her lesson had commenced and until now the conversation had left her mind almost completely.

She thought about her recent lessons, she was getting much better, she had found emotion, it was as if she had found her place. Every night Erik complimented her more and more, giving her gentle guidance but letting her sing freely. They had been rehearsing songs from the upcoming Opera and when she asked him why, he had simply said; 'It never hurts to have an understudy,'

There was something in his tone when he said that, that made her stomach twist with a sense of foreboding.

Her lessons had started going on later and later into the night, she was spending more time speaking to him, more time getting to know him... or at least she tried to get to know him. There was no denying that he was more open to her but still, he could be hard work sometimes.

She now knew that his father had died when he was very young, a fact that made him sound incredibly sad. Apparently, it seemed he did not like his mother particularly, but he did not go into much detail about this. She didn't really mind though, it was just nice to spend some time with him.

On a lot of evenings he would sing the shows duets with her but when he did she quickly lost concentration. When he asked why, she laughed... who could concentrate on anything when he was singing... he did not chastise her for this, which she was surprised, and pleased, about.

In fact, the last time he had really told her off was when Meg had visited unexpectedly about a month ago. It was not as though Christine had not tried to send her away but Meg could be incredibly stubborn. There lesson had, therefore, been interrupted and Erik had not been pleased to say the least.

Apparently, Erik had a little bit of a temper.

Still, this didn't bother Christine much, though she knew that it probably should. It was as if, when she was with him, when she could hear him, nothing else mattered. He seemed the only person to ever truly understand her. When she spoke of her past, of not fitting in, he just knew what to say. That's why she opened up to him and felt she could tell him virtually anything.

There were a lot of things that she knew should bother her about Erik Lambourne, she could reel off a full list, but they seemed so irrelevant. Next to Meg it was obvious that Erik, though he denied it, was her best friend. He comforted her, he spoke to her, they had conversations that were almost too deep to tread in, yet he seemed so comfortable with them. Well, comfortable until the conversation turned around to him.

She had also discovered just how intelligent he was. He read... a lot. This was one of the main things that she had learnt about him. She liked to read but she tended to opt for fiction, where as Erik read factual books, practical books... of course, he said that he also read fiction, enjoyed some Shakespeare in fact. Shakespeare was a little above Christine's head and she had smiled when he had told her his favourite was Macbeth. Apparently, she wasn't supposed to say that out loud.

So she didn't.

It amazed herself that she was obedient to him, anything he asked she could and would make possible. She questioned things, this was in her nature, but she trusted him. How could she ask him to trust her if she did not give him the same courtesy.

She liked to call it a friendship, wished sometimes, that she could call it more.

'Erik you are pacing like a caged lion,' Nadir said, looking up from his book. He saw Erik eyes flick in his direction but he said nothing, he simply continued to walk around in circles.

Nadir sighed and lifted the book back up, continuing to read the passage he was on. Before he met Erik he had not been much of a reader, he could read, of course, but he just did not do much of it. However, to know Erik was to know intelligence. In his little home, here, beneath the Opera Populair, there were books of all sizes and descriptions on every surface. Piled high on cabinets, on tables, stacked in bookshelves made by Erik's own hands.

It was no use, he couldn't concentrate. 'Erik,' Nadir said.

He stopped walking and looked over at Nadir. 'What?'

'What on earth is wrong with you today?'

He frowned. 'What do you mean?'

'Well,' Nadir said, pointing at the floor. 'If you don't stop walking around you're going to start wearing a trench into the floor,'

Erik grunted.

'Something on your mind?'

'No,'

Nadir rolled his eyes. 'Such a good liar,'

Erik started to pace around again and Nadir felt a sigh escape, the sigh, in turn, caused Erik's head to snap back around so that he was staring at Nadir.

'You can always leave,' Erik said.

'I don't want to...' Nadir said. 'Lately you've been much better company,'

Erik sighed and slumped into the wooden chair on the far side of the room. Nadir was now stuck for things to say, he had succeeding in getting his friend -a term he used loosely- to sit down, but now what was he to say to him. It was obvious that Erik was not in the most social of moods, this Nadir had witnessed many times before, but there was something else.

'Are you going to tell me?' he finally asked.

'This opera,'

'What about it?'

'Have you heard the rehearsals?'

'Yes,'

'And what do you think?' Erik asked, leaning forward.

'I'm not the musician here,' Nadir smiled. 'I'm not sure that my opinion really matters...'

'Usually I would agree with you...' Erik quipped, 'But people like you will be in the audience... so tell me what you think,'

'Honestly?'

'No, Daroga,' he said. 'I want you to lie to me,'

Nadir took no offence, he was used to Erik's ways. 'I didn't like it very much,'

Erik slammed the palms of his hands down onto the arms of the chair and stood up. His face twisted with anger, his eyes blazed.

'Disaster...' he said, quietly, but his hands shook with rage. Nadir felt his body move back in the chair, edging away from Erik.

'I didn't like La Carlotta...' Nadir said, swallowing hard, trying to explain himself.

Erik simply nodded, eyes still on fire. 'It's a complete disaster,'

'Tickets are selling though, Erik,' Nadir said. 'The show... the stars, they are popular,'

Nadir watched as Erik ran his hands through his hair, holding his head inhis palms, despair on his face.

'That isn't what matters,' he said.

'Why not?' Nadir said. 'I thought better sales was what you wanted,'

'She's useless,'

Nadir forced a smile. 'I noticed,' he said. 'But there must be a reason the audiences flock to see her,'

Erik laughed, 'There must be,' he said. 'But I've yet to ascertain what that might be,'

'You're not going to do anything... silly... are you?' Nadir asked.

'That would most certainly depend on your definition of silly,'

Nadir stared at his friend, Erik, Phantom, and he saw what he was capable of. If Erik could strike fear into Nadir, who had seen war, who was his friend, then Lord only knew what he could do in the Opera House.

Christine reached out to open the door to her room, she was only just in time for her lesson with Erik.

'Miss Daae,'

Her head shot up from the handle and she turned to face Joseph Buquet.

'Hello Joseph,' she said, smiling politely. 'I've told you... I'm Christine,'

He smiled, showing the gaps in his teeth. 'To some, maybe, but not to me,'

She frowned. 'Can I help you?' she asked.

'I was just wondering how you were,'

'Why?' she asked, too quickly. She was about to correct herself when he smiled again and stepped closer to her. She wasn't really sure what or why it was, but Joseph Buquet made her incredibly nervous.

'I was passing by,' he said. 'Was just wondering how you were,'

'Well,' she said, gripping the door handle behind her. 'I'm fine, thank you,'

'Good,'

She eyed him suspiciously, this whole event was bizarre. 'I'll see you later then,'

'Miss Daae,'

'Yes?'

'Beware who you spend your evenings with,' he said simply, turning and walking into the shadows. She would have questioned him about his statement if she could have found her way over the shock more quickly.

The door to her room opened and she stepped inside, removing her coat and hanging it on the back of the door. One look at the clock on her dressing table told her that her encounter with Joseph Buquet had made her late for her lesson.

She sat in the chair and waited.

'You're late,' he said, after a brief silence in the room.

'I'm sorry,'

'I've been waiting,' he said, quietly, almost menacingly.

'Not too long...' she realised as soon as the words left her mouth that this was a very bad idea.

'Not the point,' he boomed, making her want to cower. His voice was loud without him shouting, so powerful and deep that it sent vibrations through her.

'I'm sorry,' she said again, almost choking on the words.

'It's not good enough,'

She tried to steady her breathing. 'I'm sorry,' she repeated. 'I was held up,'

'What did he want?'

'Who?' she asked, momentarily too stunned to speak.

'Buquet,' he said, his voice cold and firm. 'What did he want?'

'To ask how I was,'

'Why?'

She blinked. 'That's what I asked him,'

'And his response?'

'I... he...' she stuttered. 'Erik... I'm so sorry I'm late, I didn't mean it... can we just start my lesson please...'

'What did he say?'

'He said he was just... wondering,'

'He is not a good man,'

'I wouldn't know what sort of a man he was, Erik,' she said softly. 'I spend no time with him...'

'He still made you late,'

'I didn't want to be rude,'

'You don't owe him anything,' he said. 'Do you?'

'Of course not,'

'Then why were you late?'

She buried her head in her hands, holding tears back. 'He caught me in the corridor,'

'I'm aware of that...'

'Then what are you asking me?' she asked.

'What made you stay and talk to him?'

'I didn't really talk to him,' she said, looking back up, taking a deep breath. 'I didn't... he caught me unawares,'

'Was he nasty to you?'

'No,' she said. 'He just makes me a little nervous, that's all,'

'Fine,' Erik said. 'Don't be late again,'

'I won't...' she said quietly. 'I'm sorry that I angered you...'

He allowed a silence to drop into the room for a few seconds before he said anything more; 'I shouldn't have been angered.'

Christine nodded, knowing that this, in some way, was his apology to her. 'What should we begin with tonight?'

'Start with 'Think of Me' ',

'Any particular reason?' she asked.

'You always need to be prepared,' he said. 'You have learnt the words, yes?'

She nodded. 'Of course,' she said. 'I know all of the words... just like you said,'

'Good,' he said.

'Shall I begin now?'

'In a moment,' he said. 'First, I want to ask you a question,'

'Alright,'

'What else did Joseph Buquet say to you?'

Not a question she was expecting but it only took her seconds to realise that this was a test. She had asked him to trust her, almost begged him, and now he was seeing if he could. It was fairly obvious that Erik had overheard her conversation with Joseph, now all she had to do was tell him the truth.

'He said to be careful who I spend my evenings with,'

'Have you told anyone about our lessons?' he asked, almost gently.

'No,' she said. 'There has been no reason for me to tell anyone,'

'Very well,' he said. 'Sing for me...'