Replaying Past

[Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera, Only Esme, Edward, crystal and the Sandor gang.]



"This is.. Um, Edward. My.." Esme stuttered, her hands trembling as she waved to Erik. She did not know what to say, how to explain. Erik would surely be upset to see Raoul. This was, after all, the very man whom ruined his life. She let out a little whimper, how foolish she was. She should have just staied home.

"Edward?" Raoul mused, his voice giving off a hint of disguest. "So, how do you know Lady Lonsdale? Friends?" Before Esme could agree to the idea. Eriks voice broke through, like ice cracking in their very veins. "I've fear not." His arm rose to wrap around Esme's waist, to pull her to his side causing her to gasp from the sudden mark of ownership. "Lady Lonsdale is my wife."

Erik could not place down which was more pleasing. The look on Raoul smug face when he learned Esme was another mans, or Esme's stunned expersion and flushing cheeks. "Hm.." Raoul could nto speak, his fingers tightened upon his wine glass tightly, threatening to brake it. 'This' he mused to himself, 'I did not see coming..' Lifting the glass he drank whart was within, trying to cool his riseing anger down as Christine giggled. "Oh, you did not say you were Married." Esme stared up at Erik, her face still showing puzzlement. He just... claimed her to be... Her lips parted, as she whispered lightly, 'Neither did I...' But with a shake of her head, her hand slowly rose, laying it lightly upon Erik's chest. She smiled, feeling his heart beat."Aye, twas... Very Sudden." Raoul groweled as his wife tattered happily behind her fur covered fan.

"Whom might you be?" Erik asked lightly, stareing upon the petit young lady clinging to Raoul's arm. She looked familiar to him, those brown curls and soft voice. "Oh, Yes. This is my wife." Raoul began lightly. "Christine."

Esme felt Erik stiffin under her and she could not help the pins of jealousy that rolled through her. Erik could not move, could not breath. How could he forget...Christine? Those coft brown curls, those loving warm filled eyes that stalked him in his very wake. What mad man would forget... A curse rang out from him in an oath when Esme foot slammed hard into one of his own. Drawing him back.

He was met, with a pair of wrath filled green eyes, that stared at him like daggers to a target. He cursed his foolishiness. But before he could speak, Raouls words came out. "Oh, their playing another waltz." Placing his glass down, he offered his free arm to Esme. "If your..Husband... Does not mind. Perhaps you will share a dance with me?" Eriks lips snarled and was about to give Raoul a peaice of his mind. But Esme withdrew herself from his grip, placing her hand upon Raouls arm. " I would 'love' too." She cooed, shooting another glare to Erik, telling him she was very upset. He frowned, watching Raaul pat Christine upon her lower back, leaving her with Erik. "Do watch my wife wont you? She;s a bit uneasy." With that, Erik watched with growing rage as Raoul walk away with Esme. His eyes heating up when those hands touched Esme's hip and hand. He wanted to march over there and rip her from those hands. But Christine... Looking down at her slowly, she watched her husband and smiled up to him, waving her fan to keep her cool in the warm heated room. "Care to dance with me?"

He pressed his lips, his eyes looking back to Esme as she danced in the golden ray of red curls....

"I'd be honored."