Thanks for the feedback! I'm glad you're enjoying this as much as I'm enjoying writing it! Ah, writing is food for my soul . . . Hm, I guess I have that in common with Erik . . . getting lost in composing . . . *le sigh*
Reverend Squid: Yup, Leroux's Christine was . . . kinda bland to me, so I decided to give her little shot of . . . backbone, as you said. :)
StrawberryStoleYourCookie: Thanks! That's always nice to hear! :)
LadyCavalier: Ah, yes, façade . . . masks . . . Yes, sing! Erik commands it!

. . . she had to play along and let her think she was still the shy, naive girl that everyone thought she was.

As the curtain rose for the final act of the night, Christine briefly wondered what other people thought of her. She knew Maman Valerius still saw her as a young girl, as her daughter, and would always remain concerned for her happiness and well-being. Meg Giry, daughter of the concierge, surely couldn't still think of her voice as sounding like a rusty hinge, could she? No, not after her performance in Faust! And what of the other dancers and chorus singers? Christine had kept herself so isolated and guarded that none of them really knew her at all.

She pushed the silly thoughts from her mind and concentrated on her movements. She knew that the Vicomte was in attendance tonight; she could only hope that he would not attempt to gain an audience with her again tonight. No, she could not bear the thought of her teacher becoming jealous and leaving her . . . or worse.

Erik watched from his usual spot in Box 5. Christine's movements were flawless! Yes, she had come far under his tutelage, and her dancing reflected her new confidence and the exuberance of her spirit. He took such pride in his little protégé that he nearly missed noticing the Comte and Vicomte de Chagny sitting in another box, enraptured by the dancers on-stage.

But only just nearly.

Erik pondered how he could scare this insolent boy away from Christine. A note might suffice, a simple warning that she was not free to give her heart away, that she was loyal to one master and one master alone, a notice that she would not be courted by the likes of a fop such as he! Yes, this Raoul would stay away from the Swedish songbird, and Christine would love Erik.

'Love,' he thought. 'Love can inspire men to madness. But it can also inspire great genius.'

He recalled the first time he had met Anahita. 'Anahita of the midnight moon,' as he'd called her. She had been taken by his music as he'd played his compositions for her during his time in Nizhny-Novgorod. Ah, the happy times they had shared after the crowds had left the fair! She had not cared about his skull-like visage or the horrors of his past; all that mattered to her was the way he sang to her and the way she felt in his arms when they danced.

But their idyllic romance was cut short by that damned furrier who had kidnapped her and taken her to Persia. The only reason he had not promptly killed the fool was because -

Erik's focus returned suddenly to the aria that had begun being sung. He could strangle that woman for mangling such a beautiful composition! He took a deep breath. In time, Christine would be the diva he needed her to be. Perhaps he would show himself to her. But that day would not be soon.

He would have to wait until he was sure Christine was ready to accept him as the man he was.

After the opera had concluded, Raoul did indeed attempt to visit Christine in her dressing room. Mlle. Volanges, however, refused to allow him to get past her and into the dressing room.

"Please, I just want to apologise to her for my brazenness the other night," Raoul implored.

"I am sorry, M. le Vicomte. Mlle. Daae will see no-one this evening. And, even if she were, she does not wish to see you. It would be . . . inappropriate for you to be here . . . especially without a proper chaperone." Mlle. Volanges felt an odd sense of satisfaction in turning away the infatuated young nobleman and closing the door, once again, firmly in his face.

"Who was that, Mlle. Volanges?" Christine called from behind the screen.

"It was the young man from the other night, from the night you performed in Faust."

"Did you send him away?"

"Per your instructions, Mlle. Daae."

"Good, good." Christine sighed in relief and emerged from behind the screen wearing nothing more than her dressing gown. She crossed to her vanity table and lifted a small envelope. "I will need you to take this to Mme. Valerius. I want you to deliver it to her yourself and tell her that I will be remaining here for the next night or so. And please tell her not to worry. I will return to the flat when my lessons are over. She will understand."

"Mais bien sur, mademoiselle. I will take this to her."

"Wonderful! Now that I know that's taken care of, help me with my dress." Together, they made quick work of the laces and layers, then Christine sent the younger woman off to Mme. Valerius's.

"Voice?" she called out tentatively as she locked the door. "Are you here?"

"I am here, Christine," Erik's voice resonated from all corners of the room. "Are you ready for your lesson?"

Christine didn't stifle her grin. "Yes, of course. I am yours for the entire night. I sent word to Maman Valerius that I would remain here again tonight." Once he began coaching her singing, she allowed herself to become so lost in their shared song that she didn't notice the insistent knock at the door or the voice that implored her to grant him entry.

But Erik heard it. Knowing that Christine was hypnotised by his melodic voice, he beckoned to her to approach the mirror. "Perhaps, tonight, one of your greatest wishes will be granted," he sang to her.

Somewhere in the back of her music-addled mind, she knew that this was a man luring her to his domain, but in her heart, she knew he was the Angel of Music about to bring her with him to Heavenly bliss. As she passed effortlessly through the looking glass, she bid a silent farewell to the girl she had been before and prepared for the turn her life was about to take.