Disclaimer: Phantom of the Opera and all related characters do not belong to me. I'm merely playing with the familiar characters, I promise to put them back when I'm done!

Notes: Ever wonder why Christine was clearly getting ready for bed after Raoul told her that they were going to dinner in the movie? Well...I did. And this is what became of that train of thought. I'll probably end up updating once a week, as this is still a work in progress. This will eventually be an "M" rating, but for now I'm keeping it at "T". A short chapter to get things started, hope you enjoy!

"Insolent boy, this slave of fashion, basking in your glory. Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph!" Christine rolled her eyes as the impressive voice thundered within her dressing room, as if coming from everywhere at once.

"Erik, will your love of theatrics ever cease?" she inquired as she tightened the belt on her dressing gown and waited patiently in front of the mirror. As expected, it slid open soundlessly, revealing a well dressed masked man. He stepped inside and shrugged as she laughed and embraced him.

"Fool echoes particularly well in your room, my dear. I couldn't help myself." She shook her head and took his hand as he led her through the mirror, although the fact that his gaze lingered on the bouquet of roses that Raoul had given her didn't escape her notice.

The descent to Erik's home was quiet, as it usually was. She had been coming down to the cellars for almost a year now to visit her so-called Angel of Music, and she still loved the trek. It was as if she could leave all her problems in the world above and descend into a world where all that existed was music. Music and Erik. But Christine could tell that Erik's silence was not a comfortable one, his entire body radiated tension. But she didn't bring it up until they were gliding across the lake.

Dragging her fingers lightly through the water, she finally spoke up. "What is it, Erik? Tonight should be a happy occasion and yet I can practically hear the cogs turning in your head." She turned so that she could face him and looked up expectantly.

His mouth opened a closed a few times, as he prepared what to say. With a sigh of resignation, he spoke and she knew that whatever he was about to say wasn't truly what was troubling him. "I just wish that I could have truly been there tonight. It's bad enough that I couldn't even watch from Box Five as I normally would, but...I wish that I could take the joy that I deserve in your triumph. It is selfish of me, Christine."

She smiled softly at him and shook her head. "No it isn't, Erik. You want recognition. Anyone would. I just don't see why you can't have it. Erik, if people heard your music, knew your genius, your mask wouldn't matter. It'd be...an allure. Make you mysterious. You'd be a sensation, my love."

He shook his head sadly, as she knew he would. They'd had this conversation before, many times. "Your optimism is one of the reasons I love you, Christine. But I cannot..." he trailed off and Christine thought of the scars that riddled his body, proof of how kind the human race had been towards him. He hadn't meant to let her see those despite the fact she could feel them whenever they made love. He always insisted they do so in complete darkness; but she had accidentally walked in on him one night while he was bathing and had seen the various marks that criss-crossed over his chest and back. She had brushed her fingers along them, kissed some of them even, and she had seen his hand hover above his mask for a split second before moving away. If only Erik could trust her as she trusted him. "I cannot feel the same. Perhaps...someday."

She smiled up at him and nodded, this was the first time that he had expressed some semblance of hope for the future, in a facet of his life that didn't exclusively include her. She wanted to tell him how proud she was of him, but knew that it would only embarrass him. Besides, she knew that something else was still weighing heavily on his mind. In his own time, he would tell her.

The boat bumped against the small makeshift dock and Erik quickly hopped out, helping her out. She turned towards his home, a smile upon her face, eager to start celebrating the night with her fiancé.

"I am a jealous man, Christine," Erik said, unexpectedly and Christine could tell from his tone of voice that this was what had actually been bothering him since he came to collect her from her dressing room. Of course, how could she have been so blind?

She chuckled slightly and turned to him, watching as he tied up the boat. "Yes. Anthony the stagehand learned that lesson the hard way, didn't he?"

A pained expression came across the visible half of his face and Christine couldn't suppress the smirk on her features. "I told you, Christine that had nothing to do with me, it was an accident!"

"Yes of course, an accident that happened to break the hand that had accidentally grazed my bottom during practice..." she taunted, loving to see Erik flustered. But he looked genuinely distraught and she quickly sobered, schooling her face into a more somber expression. "I'm sorry, Erik. I know it wasn't you. Now tell me why you're jealous so that I can dispel these silly notions."

She grabbed his hand as they walked deeper into the caverns of his home, into what he used as his sitting room. Pulling him down on the couch next to her, she patiently waited as he fidgeted slightly, not yet meeting her gaze. "I love to hear you talk about your childhood. You know that." She nodded her encouragement and he continued. "But whenever you would mention Raoul...you'd get this look in your eyes. And I thought myself lucky that I would never have to deal with him, but then he showed up tonight and that look in your eyes showed up as well..." He turned his eyes to her and she gasped at the anguish in them. She immediately grabbed both his hands, attempting to comfort him. "The look in your eyes...reminds me of what I see when you look at me, Christine."

"Oh Erik," she cooed, scooting closer to him and releasing one of his hands so that she could cup his cheek. "It is a similar look, Erik, because I do care for Raoul. But only as a friend. I am promised to you. You alone. And that is how I like it. Raoul will never inspire in my heart what you do, my Angel. There is no need to be jealous. Raoul de Chagny is a friend. Erik Durand is my fiancé, and nothing will change that." She leaned close to kiss him, though it was awkward with the mask in the way, as it always was. "I love you, Erik," she told him fiercely as they broke apart. "Never forget that."

"Truly?" he whispered, and if he were any other man, Christine would have rolled her eyes and refused to answer. But she had learned long ago that while Erik may have enough bravado for the entire country of France, when it came to matters of the heart he was still just a scared little boy.

"Truly, Erik." She lifted her left hand so that it was in both of their lines of vision. The simple gold band that she wore as to not cause suspicion gleamed in the dim light of Erik's home. "This ring on my hand represents my promise to you. I shall never take it off. You are to be my husband and I love you almost more than my heart can bear." She leaned in again, brushing her lips to his in reassurance.

Her mood shifted when they broke apart and she draped herself across the couch seductively, placing her feet in his lap. She was determined to get his mind off of his jealousy. "Now, shouldn't we celebrate properly? You sculpted all this, Erik. Tonight was as much your triumph as it was mine." A wicked gleam appeared in her eye, one that was quickly matched by him.

Picking up one of her feet, he slipped off the slipper she wore and placed a gentle kiss on her ankle, before performing the same action on her other foot. He then shifted himself so that he was lying on top of her, perfectly positioned between her thighs. "I don't think that I'm responsible for these," he murmured, trailing his hands up her strong dancer's legs. "Or this," he whispered, brushing a kiss against her cloth covered stomach. "Or these," he said as his hands came to rest on her breasts, knowing just how to touch her to make her moan.

"All of it, Erik," she whispered, threading her fingers through his hair and keeping him in place as his lips began placing kisses on her chest, right above where her nightgown began. "Everything is yours."