Lady Be Good

Chapter 5

Publisher Note: Sorry I haven't updated in awhile I've been super busy. Hope you like!

She was not a good ballerina. The open house of the theatre was too elegant for her to be wearing such little clothing, the chandelier winking overhead was too distracting for her to concentrate on repetitive counts, Madame Giry's cane tapping along to the beat killed the beauty of the music. It was no secret to the company that she had no passion for dance, at least not like the other girls did. At the end of another dream shattering rehearsal where she was humiliated in front of the other ballerinas for her slow turns and added steps, Christine found herself to be the last girl in the theatre. Fayette and Jammes were out on double dates, Meg had rushed off to gossip with some of the older dancers, and everyone else had their own lives to tend to. The stage crew were all up on the second floor in the production rooms, sawing and designing and whatever else they did to prepare the sets for when full-cast rehearsals started. It was a Sunday evening, the managers had gone out, the principals were off until Tuesday morning, and Christine found herself utterly alone except for Erik's company. Rarely did he join her in her free time, she soon learned he was a busy composer and artist who simply did not have time to spend his weekends ambling around the theatre looking for things to do. This Sunday, however, was different.

"Angel, is there something wrong?" He had appeared from the wings of stage right, a small smile upon his face as she finished unlacing her pointe shoes. From her spot on the floor, he was an intimidating figure, tall and proper with his mask gleaming in the shimmering light from off stage left.

"No, Christine, never anything wrong. How was rehearsal?" A pale hand helped raise her to her feet, bare against the cool wood the stage and toes wriggling in freedom from their previous restraint. Erik still stood tall over her, but was less intimidating when she found herself able to accept the kiss he pressed to her forehead.

"You saw rehearsal, atrocious, as per usual. Erik, what is wrong with me that I cannot dance?" Eyes caressed her exposed throat as she tilted her head to stare up at him.

"Christine, you are not atrocious-"

"I never said I was!" It was an indignant scoff as she reached her hands out to him.

After months of time spent with her, after stealing kisses to her forehead before they became accepted and expected, he was still growing accustomed to the physical affection she doled out so easily. Placing his much larger hands within the confines of her warm ones, he allowed her to begin rotating them in small circles. Her eyes were alight with laughter as they picked up speed, leaning backwards and balancing on each other's weight, they moved in silence except for the stray giggle or gasp of dizziness. After a few long moments of her sweaty palms gripping him tightly, of her curls tangling along her glowing collarbone, of her breathless gasps teasing his ears, he felt himself watching tears begin to glide from her porcelain cheeks. They slowed to a stop, staring at each other as the tears gained speed and soon were rolling down to the crinoline leotard.

"Nobody thinks I can do it, Angel. I don't even think I can do it, not now." Long arms pulled her into a soft hug, her face buried into the darkness of his shirt, tears soaking through to cool against scar covered chest, and he could hardly contain his moan at their intimate embrace.

"Nothing I say will make you a better dancer or a stronger person, but know that I believe in you. That I trust you with this position; that you were born to walk this path."

"I can walk, Erik, I cannot dance." White hands gripped his lapels; desperate eyes sought him for answers and solutions he was not sure he could give.

"Then do not dance, my love. Fly."

Her meetings with Fayette and Jammes stopped that week, she explained that she had gained a vocal coach and left it at that. Keeping Erik a secret was part of what made him so special to her, no one else in the company had an angel to watch over them as she did and Christine dreaded the idea of having to share his existence with other people. It was selfish, yes, but when she spoke her fears of this sin to her angel he had only laughed and petted her head as he liked to do, telling her that her selfishness was nothing but appreciated by an angel wont for her attention. She was inclined to tell him that she was wanton for his attention as well, to remind him that his presence was what pushed her through many difficult days of training, but she refrained with the fear that her wantonness would push her angel away.