Author's Note: Here I thought... Erik would be the cause of Rating Hike(We're Mature now, Folks!). Boy, was I wrong... Well... Partially.

As a further note, the Authors of all your favorite Stories have been unable to track to readership through stats at all for a month now. Hit counts are breadcrumbs to us,(It can't just be me...) and the Powers, are not showing any signs of fixing it.

Lastly, due to the nature of the relationship growing between Christine and Erik, while a Chapter/Scene still favor one of them, we'll get insight into the other was well instead of "Just Christine" or "Just Erik"

Enjoy!

Lamentable Mess

At last, the rehearsal adjourned for lunch, and Christine was slow to rise as her back protested the uncomfortable chair that she spent too much time occupying. She snaked her spine side to side as she rolled her shoulders to release the idle tension that tended to creep up on her, much like Erik, as he materialized at her side without a sound.

"You were distracted."

"Can you blame me? That was miserable, and that is putting it mildly."

Erik's eyes narrowed to pin points as a snort escaped him. "You are being too kind."

Christine bowed her head, "I imagine you have much you want to go over at next opportunity. Before that, I wanted to mention that Alison and Murphy were planning to practice during the break. They were wondering if we were willing to participate."

"We?" he asked with a tilt of his head.

"You and I. They want your input since…" she trailed off with a glance towards the managers, Reyer, and egotistical castmates.

Erik followed her gaze, his jaw clenching at the sight of them. Imbeciles.

Turning back to her and looking toward the floor between them, Erik dropped his voice to speak with a softness that only she was close enough to hear. "I am here on your behalf, Christine. Anything more could prove… detrimental."

"You know what is lacking better than anyone here," she replied in equal quietness.

The head shake he gave was little more than a twitch. "My concerns have nothing to do with knowledge or skill. Correlations are already—" Erik cut himself off at the glimpse of the approaching manager.

"Ah, Monsieur L'Chantseur," began Firmin with a nod to Christine. "I must compliment your work; Mademoiselle Daaé was in fine voice today."

Please Erik, Christine willed that hopeful thought to him as she met his gaze.

Whatever resolve Erik subscribed to prior to their interruption melted away with a hard swallow. He studied her for only a second, although it seemed far longer; then, he glanced to the optimistic faces of Alison and Murphy lingering nearby.

While he understood Christine's reliance and trust in him to look out for her when she felt voiceless, Erik could scarcely fathom why those understudies looked at him with such hopefulness. He could help them, at the risk of destroying much of his loose welcome at rehearsal again. The Phantom wanted to play, which always came with inherent risk.

When Erik looked to Christine, the woman he loved more than anything, he wondered if she even knew what she was asking of him as he saw the simple and desperate plea in those wonderous eyes.

Please.

The fires were lit and Erik's chest swelled in absolute confidence.

"Was she?" Erik began as he shifted focus to Firmin. "I can scarcely remember little more than your principal cast flouncing about the stage like mindless goats, bleating notes instead of singing them. I was under the impression that this was the Paris Opera and not some middling theatre wondering how put on a production. You neglect the chorus and snub your understudies to the point that if there is a repeat opening of Il Muto¸ you will be refunding the house rather than taking your francs to the bank!"

The attention of every soul present was drawn in by the impassioned rant as it spilled forth in all his ire. Though, in the case of the neglected and an overwhelmed Reyer, these displays of shock were also of relief.

"You," Erik motioned to Reyer in an elegant wave of his hand. "You are letting your rehearsals get hijacked by management with no history of music or running a theatre. They are more interested in placating their stars and climbing social rank than music. Why? Because, you are so close to retirement that you worry about theft of your pension? Have you lost your taste for music?"

Reyer shrunk back, plopping down on the piano bench without protest.

"Sir…" Firmin stammered. "That is a bit harsh."

"Harsh?" Erik repeated as he repressed the sardonic chuckle that threatened to leap from his vocal cords. "If you wish to deem simple facts as harsh, then so be it, Monsieur Firmin. You cannot run a theatre on associating with the wealthy alone and not expect the Opera House to suffer for it by allowing laziness to consume a production."

Hearing enough of this and the likely threat to the comforts of the current status quo, Carlotta marched towards them until she defiantly stood before Erik, her face growing redder than her hair.

Better to match the shrill tone of a spoiled Diva. "Who are you? Who are you to say these things about us? You are nothing! Your name is nothing! Nothing in opera! Nothing in music! You taught a girl who barely has a voice enough to carry to the back of the house when the seats are filled. She must be desperate enough for a bit of fame to fuck you for a few supposed lessons. You get your jollies; she thinks she's important."

Horrified shock claimed her breath and sense as Christine stood there mortified by the spewed filth the Diva poured over Erik, all of which made her insides clench and churn her stomach sour. Although nothing sexual had transpired between them, the suggestion of a transactional foray sickened her, while igniting a flaming temper she rarely experienced.

Such insults were nothing new to Erik, though the carnal nature of them was rather rare. Though, the sheer fact that this vindictive minx would tarnish his Christine so readily made him want to backhand that sneer off that woman's face. He was never one bring harm to a woman, but even he had his limits. Instead of exploding like that wild untamed creature inside him wanted, Erik collected himself in a struggle to override irrational and illogical inclinations.

Erik remained frozen in place, the temperature in the room dropping, as his hands curled to fists. Then, suddenly, he advanced a step, looming over Carlotta. Rather than raising his voice, it dropped to a dark alluring tone colder than ice. "You are right, Madame. I am nothing. I come from nothing. I took a student whose voice was nothing, and I crafted it into something. It may lack your power, but it grows stronger every day and will soon overcome yours. I instruct her not for payment or a dalliance. I teach her because I hear her potential."

He advanced another step, forcing Carlotta to retreat back in equal measure. "Unlike you, who spends more time thinking of who you have to suck to keep the reviews in your favor. Maybe if you put that level of effort back into maintaining your voice instead of belting out passionless notes, you would not have to spend so much time on your knees. You used to sing quite well, before semen began clogging your throat like dairy."

Carlotta watched him wide eyed and for the first time, silenced.

Aware that her next action would fuel more rumor and scandal than not, Christine moved closer Erik's side with her fingers brushing his inner wrist. He somehow managed to keep that boiling temper checked enough to not explode, even if he did stoop to Carlotta's level of inuendo.

When Erik's head snapped towards her at the slight pressure of her touch, the fire of his eyes cooled as his jaw clenched, yet, his fist unfurled, allowing Christine to slide the tips of her fingers into the damp hollow of his palm. Though rigid and stiff, he gently curled his fingers back to touch hers.

The small gesture was a balm to the fires in Erik's soul as he shifted his weight back on his heels, but did not retreat a step. "Perhaps, I should appease the masses and prove myself — that it is possible to crawl from nothing," he bit, as his eyes swept over everyone that was silent and still in the moment. "By all means, choose the song, Madame Guidicelli."

Carlotta blinked out of her dumbfounded reverie. Rather than name a song in her return of wit, she spat, "How dare you speak to me in that vulgar way. You forget who you are speaking to!"

There was a small pause and a sinister smirk as Erik turned his voice to silk, "Amusing, considering the crass nature of your statements regarding my student and I. It is you who forgets that I am under no obligation to appease your vanity or tolerate your tantrums."

Carlotta's hand flew towards Erik's face.

The clap that echoed throughout the stage made every observer gasp.

Then Christine felt it; the red-hot pain of her opened hand as her mind began processing what just happened.

Carlotta's forearm fell from Erik's as he blocked her attempt to strike him.

Christine's eyes widened as her gaze roamed over the Diva's face and saw the white handprint marring her cheek. It soon flushed a bright red in the rush of blood returning, highlighting the power behind the strike she dealt.

Oh God… she thought, with her stinging hand flying to her mouth.

Erik watched his beloved with a slack jaw as her hand struck Carlotta without the faintest hint of restraint, in defense of him. Him. Never had Erik been so grateful for all the layers he wore as he was in that particular moment.

It was an unexpected reason to love her more. He favored her willful spirit before, but this side of her was new to him. Improper? Unladylike? Certainly, and he was not about to complain about it at all. Not when it took everything he had now to stay rooted in place.

Christine looked up to Erik, wide-eyed and ashamed.

No, my love, he thought and tightened his fingers around hers.

Their barest contact channeled such unspoken communication between them, and although Christine was uncertain of what it conveyed, she knew she had his unwavering support.

As Carlotta's attempt to strike Erik flashed through her mind, Christine realized the reason why her temper lashed out so violently.

"How dare you…" Christine breathed a voice little more than a whisper as she looked at the pompous woman with vibrant copper hair. "You vile woman; how dare you! What gives you the right to treat people so horribly? To spread lies and gossip about everyone? Not only that, but your obsession with my chastity and insinuation that the only way I can achieve anything is by sleeping my way to it, suggests that it is you who has slept your way to notoriety!"

Fury grew in Carlotta's face by her knitting brow and scrunching cheeks, while Piangi and Andre trotted up behind the woman, but Christine was not yet done.

"I am here by my own ability, and his guidance," she looked toward Erik again. "I don't know what the future holds, but I know it will not betransactional."

Erik inclined his head the barest amount, and his fingers pulsed against hers. Then, their touch parted just as he stepped between her and Carlotta in a flash of movement. It gave Christine a start and a flood of relief when she realized Carlotta had lunged for her, only to be stopped by the barrier of Erik, with Piangi and Andre tugging the irate woman back.

"Ladies, please!" Firmin declared in his exasperation. "Enough! This already getting out of hand!"

"Yes, it is," Erik affirmed in a sharp growl. "You would do well, gentlemen, to consider how you want to gain your coveted status; through quality performances, or by letting France's finest Opera House crumble to ruin while you fraternize with the social elite."

Christine trembled in place in her own boiling emotion as she looked at the managers and her peers. The proper thing would be to apologize, but any words of regret she might issue would not be in earnest. Not yet. Not after what was said and how Carlotta treated them. No, not when Erik's presence emboldened her, and she was feeling petty.

"I hope rehearsals will be more productive for the rest of us, when we resume," Christine snapped under the stunned looked they gave her.

Casting them all a final look so they might feel her frustration, Christine turned on her heels and strode out of the rehearsal room.

In marching through the corridors toward her far-flung dressing room with Erik as her shadow, Christine tried to calm her nerves. If she could have run without care of maintaining proper decorum, she would have flown. Once they passed through the threshold and the door was secured behind them, she looked up to him for some vague idea of what was traveling through his mind. The fullness of his mask made that a near impossible task when limited to his eyes and jaw.

"Erik…please take off that mask. I need to see some part of your face."

He obliged her, revealing the tan leather half-mask beneath it, a precaution against the overly curious. Seeing his face this way brought comfort in familiarity. That expressive brow and smooth cheek allowed her pulse to quiet to a normal pace. When he stepped over to a small accent table that served little real use beyond being a pedestal to flowers, she watched him set the mask down, though her mind barely registered the motion.

"I don't know what came over me," she murmured hollowly, which made him turn to her in silence. "I have never… done anything like that."

"No. Though, I doubt you have ever encountered such a situation either," Erik replied as he shrugged off his jacket and set it over the back of the small sofa.

It was rather warm in her windowless little room.

"She tried to hit you."

"She is not the first, and likely will not be the last to make such an attempt. It is a rather common occurrence."

"It shouldn't be an occurrence at all."

"Speaks the beautiful woman to the monstrous freak," he shrugged, as he moved to stand before her again.

Christine shook her head as she allowed her eyes to wander over his slim form, made trimmer by the absence of the jacket and the snug fit of that navy blue vest. "You are not a monster, and you are not 'nothing.' Not when you mean so much to me."

Erik tilted his head to the side, eyes alight and brow raised. "Is that why you felt the need to defend me?"

"She should not have spoken to you like that."

"That was not my question."

"You defended me too… from her words and more…"

"Yes."

"Why?" she asked softly, the room feeling even warmer now. Or was it their closing proximity?

"You know why."

"Do I? I am no longer proper or docile…" she uttered, with her pulse quickening again, different this time.

"All the better. In knowing you, I have come to learn that the proper and docile are…dull. Nothing compares to your vibrance when you find your voice. In the office, in our conversations… minutes ago…"

Impulsivity took over as Christine clutched his vest and rose to the balls of her feet to gain the necessary height to catch those strange lips. Erik was in tune with her wish, stooping to close the distance until their lips joined in a fervent kiss that was unlike anything she expected.

Not that she had any expectations of a kiss, for Erik's was her first.

Given the misshapen nature of his lips, Christine did not imagine the puffiness to make them soft against her own. Yet, there was roughness on the outer edges where they twisted more prominently and delved behind the mask.

Christine's hands snaked up his sinewy chest to grasp at the back of his neck, while each subsequent kiss grew deeper and hungrier in their exploration.

Erik held her tight to him, one hand at the small of her back while the other wrapped around her shoulders. This did not last when her arms hooked about his neck, Erik broke their kisses long enough to sweep her into his arms for several steps, until he laid her on the fainting couch. There, Christine's primal instinct in her sudden need made her part her legs to him, and he slid into place.

That weight of him between her thighs was maddening as they resumed passionate kisses, clenching each other as though nothing else could hold them.

Christine wrapped her legs around him, wanting more of his weight against her core. Layers of clothing still parted them, not one piece parted or moved beyond her dress shifting enough to allow their position. How far they went did not cross her mind, not with how her breasts tingled for him. She ached for him in a strange way that, despite his presence, there was some missing piece that she wanted. Christine rolled her hips against him, and her hands traveled down his back.

Erik's mouth left hers in a trail of sweet kisses that led to her neck, where she lifted her chin for more. Oh… how he gave so much more as his lips worshipped her throat in such wonderous tenderness.

Just as she was about to grasp his backside, excited knocks resounded upon her door.