A/N: Nope, more like 2.5

Chapter 41- Somewhere in My Past

Christine woke up in her bed, back in the opera house where she felt that she belonged. For the last six months she had been staying with the Giry's, who made her very welcome. The time came, though, that she needed to move back to where she considered home. Her old room was exactly as she remembered it, just as she had left it, except not she placed a blanket over the mirror and put her table in front of it.

She considered calling in the stage hands and asking them if they could seal it up but she knew that she couldn't. She had no hope that Erik would return, she did not want him there, he frightened her, he had hurt her and now, with him gone, she and Raoul were happy. But the mirror was a nod to the past, an acknowledgement of what she had been through.

Besides this, if she asked them to seal it then they would know that it was there.

She pulled herself out of bed with ease, light heart and light feet propelled her around the room. The warmth in her washed and dressed her, got her to the market and rehearsals.

The joy in her found Raoul in the park again.

He was alone.

'Where is Mrs Leroux?' she asked as she approached him.

He stood and kissed her cheek softly, leaving a warm glow on her skin. 'I managed to lose her,'

'I hope you have only pure intentions in mind,' she teased but secretly she did wonder why he would evade Mrs Leroux.

His smile was bright and warm. 'The purest,'

He took her hand and guided her to the bench, allowing her to sit before he did. They sat for a moment and then, for the first time since they had been back together, she felt them fall into what seemed an uncomfortable silence. She glanced at Raoul who was fidgeting uneasily and felt a burning begin in her chest.

'What's wrong?' she asked.

He blinked. 'Nothing,'

'You're not speaking to me,'

'I'm sorry,' he said softly. 'I didn't realise,'

She nodded.

'How was your morning?'

'Since when do we have small talk?' she asked, worried.

'We don't,'

'Then please tell me what's going on here, Raoul, you're frightening me,'

He grabbed her hands. 'Don't be afraid,'

'You're making it difficult to be anything else,' she said. 'You're acting so strangely,'

'Am I really?' he asked and he seemed almost out of breath. This was not the Raoul she knew.

'Yes,' she said, trying to stop the dread from building inside her.

'I'm just... I'm a little nervous,'

'Why?'

He laughed. 'I'm useless, aren't I?'

'At what?'

'Everything,' he grinned. 'Bumbling fool...'

'Don't say that,' she said but smiled back.

He stood up abruptly and dug his hand into his pocket, fumbling around. She frowned at him, confused.

'What on earth are you doing?' she asked.

He smiled again. 'Don't be so nosey,'

She waited as patiently as she could until he said, 'Ah,' and then dropped to one knee in front of her.

'I spoke to Philippe today,' Raoul swallowed.

Her heart thumped in her chest.

'He approves,'

'Raoul...'

'Shh,' he held out a box and opened the top, showing a ring encrusted with diamonds. 'Will you... er... well, will you marry me?'

For a moment she was taken aback, to her it all seemed so out of the blue, so rushed, yet the romantic in her saw the man she loved prepared to give her everything. She reached out and touched his hand, smiled at him.

'Of course,' she said, beaming. 'There was really no need to be nervous,'

He leapt to his feet and pulled her into his arms, squeezing her tightly. 'I love you,' he whispered.

'I love you too,'

When she pulled away he showed her the ring again before placing it on her finger but when it was there something did not feel quit right. She looked down at it.

'Raoul,' He must have noticed the tone in her voice because the light in his eyes went out. 'I'd like to wear it on my chain... around my neck,'

The hurt on his face was painful to her. 'Why?'

'I'd like to keep it to ourselves for a while...' she said. 'Just in case,'

'In case?' he asked but he did not sound angry. 'You're still afraid of him,'

'Just until...'

He nodded. 'I understand,

'Oh Raoul, I'm so happy, please don't be sad,'

He forced a smile. 'Alright,'

'Please, Raoul, it's only for a while,' she smiled and then winked. 'We can just add the story to our chest of secrets... it will be a more pleasant story to tell our children,'

At the mention of children Raoul visibly brightened and she walked to him, sliding her arms around his waist. He held her close and kissed her hair.

'You'll be such a wonderful father,' she spoke into his shoulder. 'And we will be just fine,'

'I hope so,' he whispered. 'I really hope so,'

The door was open and the room dark and cold. The books were as they had been left and, other than a covering of dust, the room was how he had left it. Erik walked in, followed by Nadir, and placed his bag on the chair closest to the bedroom. He let his eyes drift around the room, over the table and chairs, the books, the piano, the lake...

His lake.

Feeling the cold of the room brush over him he walked to the edge of the lake and bent down, looking into the water. His protector.

'How do you feel?' Nadir asked.

He turned to face him. 'I'm not sure,'

'Has anything altered?'

Erik took another sweeping glance of the room, taking in details that it would take other people hours to absorb. He simply confirmed his first thoughts. 'Nothing has changed,'

'That's good,' Nadir nodded. 'No one has found this place,'

'Not even the people who know about it have been here,' he commented, thinking of Antoinette. He wondered if Laurent had spoken to her.

He slowly made his way to the table and sat at a seat next to it, swiping the dust away with his forearm.

'Thank you,' Nadir coughed, waving the cloud dust away with his arms.

Erik somehow managed a smile. 'You're welcome,'

'What will you do now?' The Persian asked, letting his dark eyes explore Erik's face. Very few things ever fazed Erik but one of the things that did was the way the old police officers eyes implored you, explored you, devoured you.

There was something distinctly uncomfortable about being stared at by Nadir.

'I don't know,'

'It's so good that you planned this out,' Nadir grinned.

'I suppose I should settle myself back in,'

Nadir nodded, said nothing.

'And find Christine,'

'Don't rush that,'

'I need to know if she is alright,'

Nadir rubbed his chin. 'She is, you would have heard news by now if she was not,'

Erik knew that he was right but to acknowledge the fact was to lose some control and also, to admit that he did not need to see Christine.

Though he ached for her, though she hurt him, he wanted to see her... something morbid within him wanted to see the beauty of her smile and the softness of her skin. He still wondered what she tasted like, would she be peaches or chocolate? Grapes or cream? Bitter or sweet?

Sweet, he imagined.

He turned and walked to the boat, unhooking the rope from its anchor.

'Where are you going?' the Persian asked, walking towards him.

'I'm going to settle back in,'

Nadir frowned. 'Down here, surely?'

'I need to see the theatre,' Erik pushed away from the side with the oar. 'I need to see what they have done to it,'

Nadir turned his back and shrugged as Erik guided the boat through the corridor and out of his home. When he found his usual port for the boat he got out, tied it up, and turned to look at his maze of corridors. He felt a smile form on his lips at the sight of his traps, his mirrors, his labyrinth.

It took him a while but he found his way to the corridor at the rear of the stage. He looked through the gap above him, in the floorboards, and listened carefully. When he felt sure that the coast was clear he pushed his trap door open and stepped out. To his right were the hallways leading to the dressing rooms, to his left was the stage. Instead of heading towards it he leapt up and grabbed a rope above his head, climbing it until he was standing on a beam high above the stage.

He followed his usual path until he was in the auditorium, looking down on rows of seats and the boards of the stage, newly refurbished. As he was about to leave the room he heard the sound of people walking to the stage and felt his heart stop. Part of him wanted to see Christine, the other, never wanted to lay eyes on her again.

When he looked down he noticed, now disappointed, that she was not there.

Antoinette led the dancers on and then stood aside as they warmed their muscles up.

She looked like her usual self, nothing much changed, her hip still hurt, he could tell from the way she leaned to the side when she stood. Her hair, as always, was pinned back tightly, the air of authority swirling around her. The girls finished their warm up and walked to stand around her, all of them looking at her in silence, waiting for her instruction.

'Act one, scene one,' she said simply, firmly. The young girls scattered around her, taking their positions on the stage and then, when all in place, began their movements. She watched carefully, as she walked through them and around them, when one of the girls was a step out she tapped the floor with her cane and made them start over.

If they did well, she told them so or let them leave early, Antoinette Giry was a master at her art. Erik could appreciate this.

He watched for a while, hoping no one saw him, not yet.

He loved Antoinette in a way that he could probably never love anyone else. He would trust her, even now, with his life. Her heart was good, her morals strong, yet she understood necessity and the things that came with it.

As he sat there, looking down on them, he wondered if he should let her know that he was back in Paris. The thought rippled in his mind until it faded out and he decided, quite firmly, against it. There were many reasons for this. The first being that he wanted the air of surprise at his return to be final. The second was that, if Laurent had spoken to her, she would know about his agreement with Gabriele, and would not be happy.

He, quite frankly, did not need to distraction.