Sorry for the hiatus: my family and I took a trip over break and I had to study for midterms, so I didn't have time to write. And on a completely unrelated note, I just bought the album "Human Heart" by Ramin Karimloo. *fangirly sigh* It's completely awesome! Anyway, here's the new chapter.

Chapter Sixteen

Patrick's emotions were in a whirl. For a time, he had been almost happy as he watched Alison grow sadder and sadder. Ordinarily, this would have made him depressed, but this time, he knew the cause. She's feeling bad that she broke up with me. Soon, she'll come crawling back to me and I'll be able to accept her apology. That's going to be so great. He watched her carefully, anticipating the moment that she would approach him and say, "Patrick, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have broken up with you. I've realized that you're the only one for me. Can you forgive me?" He had already composed his speech accepting her apology.

Then his world had turned upside down. Even now, in his worst nightmares, he could still hear Madame Giry's voice echoing through his head. "Can you not see? She is in love."

It tortured his mind and his heart. Day by day, he felt himself being filled more and more with white-hot rage and pain. Patrick was not accustomed to being second best. Everyone had always given him everything he wanted. Girls threw themselves at his feet. But now, when it was most important, the one thing he desired was denying him. And for whom? For whom?

Although Patrick tried hard to discover the identity of his rival, he never could. He asked all of the ballet girls, but the answer was always the same: "I do not know who he is. But she is so in love with him, it is amazing! You rarely see that kind of love anymore." They would sigh romantically. Empty-headed idiots. Patrick wanted to scream at them all, shake them until they gave him some hint, some clue.

There were tantalizing hints, answers just out of reach, but nothing was ever truly clear. He got one piece of information from the ballet girls, however. Her lover would always leave her flowers and little notes on her pillow. One day, Patrick hid in the ballet dormitories in order to catch the culprit. He sat for hours and stared at her bed, waiting for his rival to finally appear. But he blinked for a moment and there was a note on the pillow and no one in the room.

The notes this mysterious man sent Alison were unsigned and written in a beautiful, flowing script. They all contained things so poetic and full of love, Patrick wanted to throw up. He insisted on torturing himself by reading them again and again, trying to get some clue from them. What kind of person doesn't sign his own love notes? And what's with all the skulking around? Obviously this guy has something to hide. He's probably some dark handsome stranger who just likes seducing girls. Alison probably fell for his flowery language. Since when did poetry become a prerequisite for love? He wracked his brain for explanations of the man's behavior. Every conceivable answer floated through his brain… except the only one that was correct.

His anger and frustration grew every day. He barely did enough of his work to retain his job as a stagehand, receiving more than one warning. All of his friends noticed his erratic behavior changes. Much of his time was devoted to finding this man. It had become an obsession.

He finally resorted to accosting Alison as she returned from the chapel one day. He pulled her over in the hallway and pinned her against a wall. Her carefree expression faded in an instant, replaced by fear and annoyance. "What do you think you're doing, Patrick? What's wrong with you?"

He leaned forward so that his face was within an inch of hers. "Who is he?"

She frowned, but her expression held a hint of worry. "What do you mean?"

Patrick almost hissed. "Don't try to play dumb with me, darling. Who is it that you've replaced me with?"

She met his eyes, defiance written all over her face. "No one you know. Even if I told you his name, you wouldn't know it. Please let me go."

Patrick leaned even closer. His nose brushed hers. "Tell me, Alison, darling," he said, a grimace of a smile on his face.

Alison's eyes narrowed. "Let go of me or I'll slap you back to 2012, where you belong. Let me go."

Without another word, he let go his hold on her and stalked off. She rubbed her arm where he had grabbed it and watched him go, more than a little disturbed. Immediately she felt foolish. This is Patrick we're talking about. He's not the kind of person who would actually get violent or anything, she tried to reassure herself. Thinking it would sound stupid, she decided not to mention it to Erik.

She would regret it later, when her original instincts would prove right. She would berate herself for keeping her thoughts to herself when she screamed for help, begging for Erik to come save her, and there was no reply.

For Erik, his time with Alison was the happiest of his long and miserable life. He was even happier than he had been while teaching Christine. With Christine, it had been all about her, her hopes, her fears, her dreams. He had been her angel, with all the detachment and power that came with. With Alison, he was nothing more or less than a man.

Alison treated him in a way that nobody in his life had. She treated him like an equal, like a normal human being, but it was so much more than that. She loved him. She never seemed to tire of telling him, and he never tired of hearing it. And each time, he saw the truth of it in her eyes. She knew his horrible past, full of mistreatment and murders, and she loved him all the more for it. She looked at his horrible face without even flinching. When he was with her, he felt like a normal person. His love for her grew each day with her gentle treatment. He loved the way she looked at him and the way her hair fell around her face. He loved the way she would touch his arm or his cheek randomly during their conversations. He loved the way her eyes glowed when she laughed or talked about something she loved.

And he felt more comfortable than he had ever felt with a human being before. Once she had made it clear that she liked it when he kissed her, he would do it whenever he felt the need to, sometimes even in the middle of a sentence. To his delight, she never pushed him away or looked irritated about being interrupted. She just smiled, kissed him back, and continued with whatever she was saying.

She had quickly replaced Christine as his muse. He drew her all the time, watching from behind the mirrors of the opera house. Any music he wrote now was dedicated to her, and it was some of the most beautiful and happy music he had ever written. He began to think of her as his angel in the darkness of his life.

As the months went by, he kept expecting the day to come when she would no longer want to see him. To his surprise, it never did. She seemed to continue loving him with the same sweetness that she always did. Their relationship wasn't perfect: no relationship is. They had their share of snags and fights, but they always got over it and forgave each other.

But Erik began to discover that his love for her was underscored by something else. Something more fiery and intense. Something that reminded him of Don Juan and Christine…

It took him several weeks to identify it as desire, and once he had, he wished that he hadn't. Why does my body always ruin everything? He berated himself internally. Curse this damn… feeling! She has saved me in every way a man can be saved. She has been an angel to me and this is what I give her? These base desires and the earthly needs of a man? She has given me everything, her mind, her heart, and her soul: I cannot ask her to give me her body as well. But his mind would not stop tormenting him with erotic images of her. His frustration with her and with himself grew daily.

Unbeknownst to him, Alison was beginning to experience the same problem. She knew a little more about the whole business than Erik did, due to the fact that American pop culture was full of sexual references, music, and commercials. If they could add sex to anything, they would. Alison knew that if she wanted anything to come of it, she would have to make the first move, but she didn't know how to broach the topic with Erik. She was still a virgin, despite the endless opportunities college had offered to change that status. Patrick had asked her to have sex with him several times when they were dating, but she had said no. It hadn't felt right, somehow. She had been waiting for the right person, and she was convinced that Erik was that person. She wanted to ask him, but her doubts and fears stopped her every time.

Week by week, the tension between them grew. It was only a matter of time before it exploded…

This chapter is something of a transition chapter: it does more emotional setup than actual action. That's why it's so short. I promise that things will get more exciting in the next chapter or so. Please review!