Forget All You Know

They are properly acquainted.

This time around, there was no Opera Ghost to scare away Carlotta. It was simple vanity. She wasn't paid enough, and was "assulted" by (having an affair with) a stage hand, who was immediately sacked. But it wasn't enough to retain her, and she stormed from the stage.

"Surely there's an understudy?!"

"Understudy?! SENORA CARLOTTA HAS NO UNDERSTUDY! WE HAVE NO SHOW!"

"Perhaps," Erik interjected softly. Even without his intimidating appearance, his voice carried even without volume, and everyone fell to silence. "Perhaps there is another who has learned the role in secret, longing for a chance to sing." His eyes were locked on Christine, who jumped in shock as he stepped toward her. Meg pushed her forward.

"M-Monsuir?"

"Miss...?" He took her hand so gently, trying not to shake as he did so, but years of showmanship kept him steady. Christine blushed.

"Daae, sir. Christine Daae."

"Christine..." He half smiled, on his left side. "Could you sing it?"

"I...I c-could, sir...th-that is, I-I know it..."

"Then Christine..." He stepped back, gesturing to the accompanist, and speaking up so that the room could hear him, so that Paris could hear him. "Sing for me."

And she stepped up to the piano. And sang for him, smiling at him for encouragement.

Even without his guidance, he thought foggily as he listened to her, she had the voice of an Angel.

The show was a beautiful success, and Christine was adored. Erik's were the loudest applause and shouts of "Brava! Brava! Bravisimo!" His rose was the one that she caught, all the way from Box 5, smelling it happily and bowing in his direction.

And now he stood before her dressing room door, having dismissed the managers. Another rose was concealed in the trembling hand behind his back. Breathing as deeply as he could, though it wasn't enough, he raised a hand to knock, and only hesitated a moment before doing so, breathing through the door, "Miss Daae?"

"Who is it?"

"It is...Monsuir Jeandre. May I...?"

"Oh monsuir!" His heart leapt into his throat. She was excited to see him. "Yes, of course! Do please come in!"

He turned the handle and entered, shyly proffering the rose, all the confidence he'd had on stage earlier that day gone. She was resplendent in her dressing gown, and surrounded by admirer's gifts. Nervous as he was, he couldn't stop a wide smile, and was shocked anew when she returned it.

Christine stood and crossed the room to him, offering her hand as she took the rose. He lifted it shakily to his lips and pressed it slowly to them as she curtsied.

"Did you enjoy the performance, Monsuir?"

"Please," he managed quietly, "please call me Erik."

"Erik..." The sound of his name on her tongue almost overwhelmed him.

"I-I...I very much en-enjoyed it, Miss Daae."

"If you are to be Erik," she teased, making him shudder slightly, "then call me by my name. Christine."

"Christine...Christine..." He let out a breath of laughter, but it died in his throat as he smiled at her. Coughing slightly to cover it, he began again, "You sing like an Angel, Christine."

"Sir you are too kind." Her voice was breathless and her eyes were on the floor.

"I can imagine perhaps that you sang for me then."

"You did ask me to, this morning."

"Have I been in your thoughts so long as these hours, miss?" He managed to play off his awe with a smile, hoping he appeared as debonair as he was attempting. Apparently he did, for he elicited a giggle. This gave him confidence and he gestured to the seats by her vanity, the mirror he'd known so well. They sat, together, on this side of it. It was indeed very odd.

"I have come for another reason, Christine, than to offer my compliments." She raised her eyebrows as he looked away, toward the ceiling. "I am myself quite skilled in music."

"I am aware, sir. I am...quite the fan of your compositions. Such excellent Soprano lines."

He smiled. His next words were quiet, barely a whisper.

"I would, if you would allow me...like to...offer my tutelage."

"But monsuir...Erik, I have no money to pay you-"

"I want no payment," he said, rather more harshly than he had intended. More calmly, he continued, "I would do it without charge...if only to hear you sing."

"Sing for you, you mean."

"I do." He finally managed to face her, matching her bright blue eyes with his own amber ones. She gasped slightly at the intensity behind them. "Christine, I..."

But he couldn't say it. Not now. She didn't know him.

"I beg you. Let me be your teacher."

She took his hand in her own, and his eyes followed it up to her chest, then quickly flicked back up to her face, her smile.

"I would be honored, Erik, to learn from you."