Hello my readers! I am so sorry for not updating, I have been rather busy, classes and all. I hope that this wonderful scene will make up for my absence! Please continue to read and review. I love all of your feedback! Thank you all! I have mixed both Christine's and Erik's perspective into this Chapter. I hope this goes well! Please enjoy the festivities!

PryingPandora

VIII

-Christine's

She could feel His presence, he was near and her heart leapt. The cold air around her chilling her, reminding her of His warm bed deep under the Opera House. After the events that transpired tonight she had fled up to the roof, her sanctuary, and Raul had followed. Clutching the rose her Maestro had so lovingly placed in her dressing room to her chest she almost uncontiously began to talk to Raul about her Maestro. She cautiously strode toward a gargoyle, she could feel His presence behind it.

Why is the air so heavy? The air is tainted with pain…was He hurt?, her confused heart murmured.

Suddenly Raul spun her around, a shocked look upon her face. The cold causing a flush to creep across her face. She did not know how, but she KNEW He was hurt….distracted for a second, Raul impatiently cupped her face in his palms.

She felt his presence disappear, her suspicion confirmed. Her heart bled, it is not what he thinks!

Raul leaned in, his lips almost inches from hers when she snapped back to reality. Her arms shot out, shoving against his chest roughly, jarring him away from her. Her big brown eyes wide and glossy, her breath little white plumes in the cold night air. His face wore a mask of shock, his posture rejected. Smoothing her hands down her arms she gaped at him, her voice unsteady.

" What are you doing Raul? How..what?"

Skirting farther away from him she watched him scuff the soft snow with the toe of his shoe. His expression slowly transforming from one of shock to embarrassment.

"I..I just thought you would still feel for me as you once did, like when we were children Little Lottie. I…I could not help myself, please forgive me for my brash behavior."

Turning from him, her face flaming she fingered the petals of the rose, her body chilled and dread seeping into her heart. Her voice soft, like a small child's,

" It..is quite alright Raul, but I do not feel for you like that anymore. You are a great friend, a brother if you will, and nothing more. I am sorry if I mislead you. Please do not try further advances upon me."

She could feel his gaze boring into her back, she felt naked without her Maestro there, without his gaze upon her. A light touch upon her shoulder brought her back to the present, a friendly gesture and she turned. Raul's eyes said it all and she braved a small smile. Nodding his head he turned and opened the door to the spiral staircase.

Rushing as fast as her feet could take her she hurried to her dressing room. Her heart beating frantically, painfully. Her long chestnut hair flowing behind her, her cloak wrapping about her legs as she streaked past a few stage hands who stared at her as she flew past.

Can what he had seen, what I have done, be undone? Will he see the truth?

Erik's:

Up in the rafters he paced. His heart felt as if it was frozen, his tears sparking anger.

I should have known, a beast such as I could never dream of wooing such a beauty. But she SHALL be mine!

His heart hammering in his chest, a pitiful sound at best. Below the staff hurried around, making preparation for the Ball Masque tomorrow. His heart squeezed painfully, He had wished to take Christine, but that is over. He shall show up anyway. His anger fanned by the bold action of the Vicomte, his insolence overpowering.

He shall give them a NEW Opera, not that those rat managers deserve it after their disregard for his wishes.

A cruel sneer creased his face, his broken heart encouraging his twisted soul into violence. Dragging his leather clad hand down the uncovered side of his face he smirked. A grand plan hatching in his mind, oh how delectable this will be.

With a twist of his cape the Phantom disappeared down a corridor, toward delicate Christine's dressing room.

Christine's:

Slamming the dressing door behind her she sank to her knees, her back sliding down the ornate door. Clasping her face in her hands she began to sob, her heart wracked with sorrow as the implications of tonight sank in.

He believes I have betrayed him, spurned his affections, that I actually wanted Raul. Raul over his glorious form? NEVER.

Running her fingers through her hair in an attempt to calm herself, she sighed heavily. Slowly rising she glided to the changing screen and stripped herself of her pageboy clothing from that damned Opera II Muto. Standing behind the screen in nothing but her underclothes she felt his presence once again. Her heart skipped a beat, then felt as if it shrank in her chest. Smoothing down her hair with her hand, She vowed that he should not see her flustered, but that she will speak to him. She will not show that his presence scared her, and she shall have the upper hand. Grabbing a soft cloth from the washbowl she cleansed her face of her tears, and gently cleaned the grime of the day away. Slipping into her dressing gown she took a deep breath, but with a smile she decided to disgard the garment once again. Clad in only her corset, panties and garter she strode out from behind the screen and to her vanity.

Can he sense my tension? Pray God he does not.

Picking up her brush and slowly combing out her curls, her face awash in soft candlelight, the scent of the roses from the previous Opera surrounding her. Her body conveyed confidence, but inside she was falling apart. She hatched a plan, and she smiled to herself,

Oh he shall be shocked.

Erik's:

When he entered into the passageway behind sweet Christine's mirror he found himself staring at an empty room, however he knew she was in this room, he always knew where she was.

She must be behind the screen, no doubt changing from those humiliating clothes that the bumbling Managers placed her in.

His heart sputtered, and an ache in both his heart and his loins grew at the thought of Christine changing just feet away from where he stood, watching. Inside he chastised himself for such dispicible thoughts.

How can I still love her, after what she has done to me? How can my twisted heart still yearn for her heaven?

Taking a deep unsteady breath he turned around. Gone was his cloak, instead he was garbed in a suitcoat, underneath his Lasso attached at his hip. Turning from the mirror he brought his hand to his face, stroking his brow, trying to compose himself. He could feel his hands shake and he abused himself over his weakness.

She shall always be your weakness, she is the one and only your twisted heart will ever desire, his doubt plagued mind whispered

Turning back around to view the room again he was met with a stimulating sight. Christine, gentle sweet innocent Christine, clad in nothing but her underclothes was seated so gracefully at her vanity, brushing out her soft chestnut curls. He felt fire spark in his groin, and shifted uncomfortably. He tried to distract himself from her bewitching beauty, to become angry at her once again, to no avail. All he could see was creamy white flesh encased in the minimal requirements. The soft candlelight bathed her skin in warm light, creating an intimate feeling about the room.

He felt his libido itching to be free, that beast straining against the cage to be set loose. Almost instantly he felt guilt.

I should not be here, viewing her like this while she has no idea. This is what perverts do, and I am not one of those vagrants.

Slowly he tore his eyes away from her succulent flesh and, rather uncomfortably, turned to leave when he heard her speak. Stopping mid turn, he scarcely could believe what he had heard. His sweet angel had spoken, her musical voice like that of a siren.

"Maestro, I know you are there, please, enter at last Master."