Phantom of the Opera 1. A Demon's Angel

**Disclaimer**

**I do not own the phantom of the opera book, film or musical so please don't sue me.**

**Chapter 1 – A Demon's Angel**

Erik

Entry 1

After much thought I have decided that I can no longer go on with my emotions inside of me. So, in order to express myself without fear of rejection I start this – a journal.

So I suppose I should begin at the point where this all started.

I am Erik.

Ha, such a simple name do you not think?

A scared and deformed musician, composer and architect.

But I am also the Phantom, the self proclaimed Opera Ghost.

Well, maybe that is not strictly true, the ballet girls have been speaking of the presence of a ghost for generations and I decided to fill the absent roll.

I came here, to the Opera house twenty years ago, when as a child I was rescued from a travelling freak show by the Opera's ballet mistress, Madame Giry, who was then but a ballet rat herself.

She brought me here, bringing me through the grates of the bottom level of the opera cellars and hiding me. Leaving me in the dark, deep under the opera.

But now the darkness is home.

While exploring I found a cavern on a large body of water (a lake I suppose many would call it) that sits below the streets of Paris. How amusing to think that so many of the population of this city do not even know of its existence.

Now this cavern is my home. Over the years I have used the vast array of props and settings from old performances to create for myself a very comfortable prison-for lack of a better word.

For who in the world above could possibly accept one such as me. Even with the mask that covers the marred side of my face.

I suppose that in this unveiling of my soul I should make detailed mention of the deformity from which I am afflicted but I will not, not until it should become necessary for me to do so.

But, deep within the earth I have nurtured my love of music for years; the notes of my organ filling the confines of my cavern till the very water must shake with the force of it.

But moving on to my reason for beginning this journal.

Ten years ago a young girl came to the Opera House, an orphan who's father had died but a few weeks before, leaving her alone in the world. With this in mind Madame Giry (who apparently knew the girl's father when she was young) took it upon herself to care for the child.

Now, the arrival of a new dancing brat was in itself of very little interest to me, apart from providing me with a new victim. For at the age of twenty-two I had been known for some time as the Opera Ghost.

But, when making my way along the dark passage ways behind the walls of the opera I heard sobbing I stopped abruptly. I was directly behind the far wall of the opera chapel. In my experience one of the least used rooms in the entire building. I carefully dislodged one of the crumbling bricks from the wall and peered through.

There, sitting on the cold stone floor and sobbing her heart away was this new child.

Christine Daae.

My angel.

She sat there, rocking her small, fragile little frame, as though trying to stop herself from flying apart.

I had watched, almost fascinated by what I was seeing. Never before had I seen such a show of emotion.

She took in deep shuddering breaths.

"Papa, why did you leave me? You promised, you promised you would send him. Don't you love me anymore? Has seeing mama again made you forget?"

My heart clenched at hearing such words from this child's lips. Her pale face was drawn tight with grief and her eyes red and sore from crying.

Even now I do not know why I cared so much, never before had another's hurt and grief touched me as hers did then.

"You promised you would send me the Angel of Music."

My head jerked at hearing this.

The Angel of Music?

She continued to sob so violently that I could no longer stand to watch her suffer and do nothing to prevent it.

"Why do you cry little one?"

Even as I write the words I cringe at my own stupidity, for in that one question I risked exposure. But what else could I have done?

Never in my life had I felt needed by another being.

Some force out of myself was pulling me towards her and I was both unable and unwilling to disobey.

And so, with that sentence I sealed my fate.

My life was no longer lived just for myself alone but for her also, for now I had someone who cared for whether I showed up at the end of each day.

I began that very night to give Christine music lessons - discovering that she was the owner of a beautiful natural instrument.

And down the years it has continued just the same. I have always been there for her. Her Angel. Watching her as she grew from an awkward and clumsy child to a beautiful young woman. Never noticing my change in feelings until it was too late to stop them.

The first time that I realised the drastic turn that my feeling had taken was a year ago. She had turned fifteen that year, and so she was allowed to attend the yearly masked ball - officially entering the adult world.

I remember how excited she was, her voice had quivered with excitement as she told me of her plans after one of her lessons. I could not help but smile stupidly from my hiding place as I watched her exuberant gestures and shining eyes.

She truly was beautiful both inside and out.

It was then that it had struck me.

The intensity of my feelings nearly drove me to my knees as my throat had closed only permitting me to draw in shallow strangled breaths.

How could I let this happen?

I had fallen in love with her and had not even noticed it happening.

I was a monster in love with a little angel. In love with a being I had no business being in the same room with. Feelings from me would pollute her.

So I did the only thing I could.

I ran.

I ran through the twisting passages in the walls of the opera. I ran as my lungs caught fire and my throat rasped. I ran until I reached my home and then I allowed the weakness to take control of me as I fell to my knees and tried to control my breathing as tears of anger and frustration fought for freedom from eyes that had not shed tears in years.

The same question spun in my mind.

How could I? How could I let this happen?

And the same answer always followed.

I could have done nothing to stop it. So gradual had been the change in my feelings that it was as though she was a part of me.

An extension of myself.

The light to my darkness.

I began to panic.

My cool and calculating mind raced, refusing to focus on anything but my newly found feelings for Christine.

A streak of jealousy shot through me. Like poison in my veins it spread rapidly - taking me over.

The ball.

For the first time I felt fear. She would be seen by others - other men.

I had seen her every evening since she was six and had only now uncovered my feelings. It would not take others so long. One look would be all they needed.

I forced my mind to calm. My breathing becoming steady and deep once again.

I thought rapidly. I needed to stop this from happening. She was mine.

Of course.

I laughed joyfully. The sound echoed round my home over and over again.

I was her angel after all.

Any word from me and she would obey.

I would simply forbid her to accept the attentions of any men who may offer them.

After all it would serve as a protection for her would it not - keeping her safe from those who would wish her harm and use her for their own selfish reasons?

Yes, I would produce her with that ultimatum.

If she wished to continue with her lessons she would have to agree to my terms.

I would of course have to provide her with a reason for these new rules.

She may believe that my disembodied voice was that of the Angel of Music but my Christine was no simpleton if she was to agree with my conditions she would require an explanation.

Her singing.

Yes that would do it.

I would tell her that to progress well with her singing she would need to focus all of her energy onto it and could not do so with _distractions._

It has now been one year since I enforced this 'rule' and Christine has obeyed to the letter - never questioning her 'angel's' motives but accepting that they were for her own good.

I allowed her to attend the ball that evening for one hour, making her promise to come back to the chapel for her continued lesson.

Still upset over my sudden disappearance she thanked me and left to prepare.

I had paced for the time that she was away from me.

Should I have kept her from going?

What if she met someone?

I had already informed her of my terms and she had agreed whole heartedly but all that could change. Would she find someone just to spite me?

After thinking about it would she decide that I was no one? Who was I to dictate her life?

Such foolish question continued to attack my mind as the minutes dragged by.

But then I heard faint footsteps from the other side of the wall and I watched as she came down the steps.

I looked at the candles. She was early, they had hardly burned down at all.

Was she all right?

Had she been hurt?

In the seconds that it took for her to speak I cursed myself for every kind of idiot.

I should have insisted on starting tonight.

She was not in costume.

Instead she stood in a dress that I had instructed Madame Giry to buy for her on my behalf for her birthday.

"Angel?" her soft voice questioned.

How could she doubt my being there?

I would always be there for her.

"Yes Christine, I am here."

"Can we continue with our lesson now?"

So we began.

"Was the party not to your liking little one?" I asked her as she went to leave, my curiosity unable to be denied any longer.

"Master, they all acted so differently. It was like I knew no one." she sighed softly "Meg told me that I was acting to seriously but I was acting like me. A costume does not change that."

I watched as her face clouded with confusion and uncertainty. I realized that she thought that something was wrong with her because she could not act the way that she was being told. She thought she was flawed.

My angel thought that she was in the wrong because she was herself.

Never before had I wanted to hold her so much, to tell her that she was perfect as she was.

"Christine" I breathed "There is nothing wrong with you"

"But Meg acted like there was that is why I left; I did not understand what she was wanting of me."

I had never seen her so confused before.

I understood what she was relating to.

Everyone - from the cleaners to the resident soprano - would have been at the ball and more than a little alcohol would have been consumed. Despite being best friends no two people could have been more different than Christine and Meg. Meg was fair haired and flighty always voicing her opinions and practising her eyelash flickering on any unsuspecting stage hand. Christine on the other hand was dark haired and quiet, always with her head in a book or in the clouds. But when she sang her soul shone. She came out of herself, all of her feelings coming through her voice, which was her way of expression.

And now a year on she continues to progress and my feelings continue to grow. But I will not risk being rejected. For even an angel's compassion and care can go so far.

She loves me as her voice, her teacher and her mentor.

But to show myself in the flesh...she would run for her life.

**OK this is my very very first attempt at this so please be nice and I hope you like. **


	2. My Angel

**I do not own anything :(**

**Chapter 2 – My Angel**

Christine

Dear Diary,

I have never felt so silly in my life; I cannot believe I am doing this.

Diary keeping! Me! As if privacy is not an issue in this place, now I am actually going to leave my thoughts just sitting around for anyone to read.

And why am doing this? Because Meg has came up with this ridiculous idea. She has just finished reading some novel and the heroine kept a diary or something silly like that so she has decided that we two will start one each. So we are to sit down and write in this for half an hour every day after rehearsals.

So where to begin?

I am Christine Daae.

I am sixteen years old and have lived in the Paris Opera House (a place reigned over by the ever present Phantom of the Opera, a spectre who occupies many of the stories told after the lights are extinguished) since I was six.

Madame Giry who is the Opera's ballet mistress brought me here after my father died; he was a violinist, a fantastic musician. I can still remember sitting on the floor in front of his chair while he played or we sang.

When he died it was as though something inside of me had gone cold.

So now I live in the dormitories of the Opera House training as a dancer.

The dormitories are cosy, each of us have a bed, a little side table and chest of drawers and our beds are separated by curtains giving us all the illusion of privacy.

My dancing is adequate but I am not the best, Meg is a lot better than I am and is always helping me. Singing is my strength.

I do not know whether to write of my singing or not. After all no one knows what I do or where I go during the two hours between dinner and bed time and hopefully they never will.

Well I suppose I had better just be careful where I leave this book lying around and it should be fine – hopefully. I suppose the worst that can happen is that I am thought mad.

So here goes.

I have been receiving singing lessons from the Angel of Music for the past ten years, ever since I came to the Opera.

I was frightened and alone when I first arrived here and had gone to the Opera Chapel in the lower stories of the building to be alone. The Opera was such a busy place - with people coming and going never stopping - and I needed silence and peace.

I sat in the chapel and finally broke down, tears flowing down my face as the sobs shook my body with a force that I have never experienced since.

My father, since I was little, had spoke of the Angel of Music and how he came to those with a gift for singing to guide them in their progress and life. When he became ill he promised me that when he got to heaven he would send the Angel to me. He had been gone a month (a long time for a six year old) and I had never felt the Angel's presence as my father had told me I would.

I continued to sob, forcing out questions between my cries, asking my father why he had not sent the Angel, had I done something wrong, did he not love me anymore?

I was so confused.

Then I heard him.

A voice.

The most beautiful voice that I have ever heard.

He asked me why I was crying.

So I told him.

I told him everything, from my father's death and where we had lived to the angel that my father had promised to send me.

I asked him who he was and where he was. I wanted to see him.

The deep voice answered me softly, "I am your Angel of Music, I am everywhere and I am here to teach you,"

So my lessons began.

I would dance during the day and rehears and at night after dinner I would run through the corridors as fast as my legs could carry me to the chapel for my lessons. And the voice was always there, waiting for me. My lesson quickly became my favourite time of the day. It could never come fast enough.

I felt accepted and free to be myself when I sang for and with my angel. I did not have to pretend to be anything but me and I loved him for that.

My lessons continued through the years very much the same as they began, but as I grew he would make suggestion regarding my studies, telling me what books and papers to read. We talk over what I have read and we even have debates, arguing points of view until one of us gives in.

Last year though things began to change.

It was the first time that I was permitted to attend the annual masked ball.

I was so excited. Meg and I had chosen our costumes and we could not wait to show them of, the dormitories were buzzing with life and excitement - for three of the other girls were also of age to attend.

I ran as fast as I could for my lesson that night. I could not wait to tell my angel of the ball and our costumes. Though I am sure that he knew already, he is, after all, an angel.

My excitement was a living and breathing thing as I entered the dimly lit chapel. I felt as though a thousand candles were burning inside my chest.

We sang and talked the same as with every lesson and then my angel asked me what had me so excited - humouring me I am sure.

I began to tell him, tripping over my word in my haste.

"Meg and I are attending the ball," I prattled on.

"It is so exciting, we have never been allowed to go before, but now that we are of age Madame Giry is allowing us, we have our costumes all ready, they are lovely, from old productions, all we have had to do is alter them a little to fit but they are beautiful and Meg says..." all the time my arms were waving around, crazily gesturing as my excitement searched for a release. My outburst trailed off though as I realized that I was getting no reply. Just as I stopped speaking I heard a sharp intake of breath and then – silence.

I jumped to my feet and ran to the stairs that lead from the chapel, had someone seen me there.

Nothing. Not even a wavering candle to give away the presence of another. Just silence.

I returned to the chapel, I could not feel my angel there with me.

"Angel?" I received no reply.

"Master?" I tried again.

I fell to the floor in a dejected heap, my skirt bellowing about me as I stared at the flame of the one of the candles in front of me.

Where had he gone?

Had I offended him?

What had I said in that short time that would have made him leave? To not talk to me?

I did not know what to do.

Ever since the first night that I have sobbed my heart out in the chapel I had never been alone there. He had always been there, waiting for me.

I sat for I do not know how long, watching the dancing flame of the candle, the questions running through my foggy mind and receiving no answers.

Then I felt him there with me, he had come back, he had not left me.

I composed myself as he began to speak.

I was surprised.

He set before me a choice.

I was not to get involved with any men, but was to concentrate on my studies, be it dancing, singing or academic if I wished to continue under his tuition he could not have me being lax.

I did not understand his reasoning behind this. After all, it had never been a concern before; I had never missed a lesson since they had begun.

But I agreed, I would agree to anything as long as he did not leave me alone. The thought of living a life without him filled me with dread. When no one else had been there for me he had come to me. It would not be worth living if I did not have my time with him to keep me going, to give me something to look forward to.

"Very well Christine." he said in his soft, deep voice. "But, as you are so excited you may attend the ball for one hour."

I thanked him as he excused me, still a little troubled by my angels sudden change in attitude I left the chapel in a daze and made my way slowly to Madame Giry's room, where our dresses where.

What had gone wrong?

I would know everyone who was attending the party so why would he suddenly be concerned about me meeting men.

I puzzled over this as I absent mindedly began to dress. My dress was a deep red colour and had been used in a production before I had even been born and was made of fine, rich material, the wardrobe mistress had found a collection of old trunks in one of the Opera's many basements filled with such costumes. The neck line was a bit lower than I was comfortable with so I had decided to compensate by using a shawl that I had found while raiding the trunks along with the other girls.

It made me appear paler than I usually was, put I put it down to the fact that I always wore light colours. Meg had insisted on the darker colour as she said a bit of mystery could not hurt.

The other girls bustled about the room playing with their hair and tightening corsets, trying to fit into costumes that they had purposely altered too much- each determined to be the slimmest. I do not know why. After all, we are all dancers and thanks to all the constant activity we are all leaner than the average teenager any way. I sighed as I watched them, I had always been small and slight I was happy with it that way. I did not insist on starving myself as some of the girls did - some fainting in rehearsals due to undernourishment. I liked my body the way it was, with all my curves in the right places, and dare a say it – a little flesh covering my bones.

We were all finished soon enough and took our turns in using the floor to ceiling looking glass to make any last minute alteration.

Meg and I giggled as we watched the other girls push each other out of the way with impatience, their actions getting us to the party no faster.

I looked at the clock as we swept out of the room.

I only had an hour.

As I thought of this the incident from the chapel - that I had managed to forget about for a moment - came flooding back.

I still did not understand his reasoning any more as I left Madame Giry's room than I had when I had first left the chapel.

I decided to put it to the back of my mind and enjoy the hour that he had given me.

We entered the hall at the bottom of the Opera's grand staircase.

It was so big that for one night a year it served as a ball room, allowing beverage tables to be placed down each side of the massive hall and the musicians to be seated in the balcony, giving the dancers more than enough room. Massive candelabra glowed around the room keeping it well lit.

Everyone was in good spirits and I was more than aware that the alcohol that was flowing freely was a major reason for this.

Madame Giry pulled us aside before letting us circulate, reminding us to be on our best behaviour and that we were all young ladies now. We all nodded as was expected of us and began to wander around.

After ten minutes we were approached by two of the stage hands. I had never felt comfortable around them and I still do not. They found too many excuses to linger around the stage during rehearsals, watching us, especially if our costumes left little to the imagination.

Meg smiled and fluttered her eyelashes while I pulled by shawl tighter around my chest, we were not in rehearsals now!

I tried to pull her away, taking a grip on her arm and steering her in the direction of her mother.

"Christine, stop it, what are you doing?" she hissed at me, gripping my fingers and prying them from her arm.

"I do not trust them," I told her firmly, not knowing how to voice my opinions, besides my angel had told me no men.

"Oh Christine," she sighed deeply as though talking to a small child "We are at a party you are allowed to be as you want so relax,"

"But I am being as I want to be," I hissed back, annoyed at the attitude that she had taken. I love Meg dearly but she really is a flirt.

"I am being me," I clarified

She looked at me clearly irritated and told me to stop being too serious as she stropped back towards the two men. One of them eyed me closely and grinned at me.

I had had enough, gripping my shawl tightly I pulled it closer to my body and marched purposefully towards Madame Giry.

I told her that I was not feeling very well and I returned to my room.

I changed swiftly into a light blue dress that Madame Giry had bought me for my birthday, glad to be once again back in familiar colours.

I looked at the clock. I still had over half an hour to go.

I decided to make my way to the chapel. If he was not there I could always sit and think.

While making my way their I decided that even with the restrictions that my angel had placed upon me I was not missing anything, the ball tonight seemed like an excuse to get drunk. I shook my head clearing away the image of Meg as she flirted outrageously with the two men.

Once again I entered the chapel, my sanctuary from the world.

I called for my angel, my voice coming very close to breaking, he was there. My heart leapt happily, I asked that we resume my lesson and we began.

Not wanting to discuss what had occurred at the ball I went to make a swift exit but was stopped when my angel asked me about the ball.

So I told him.

Was something wrong with me that I could not view the evening the same way as Meg? Was I really too serious?

I wanted to know.

I was comforted when he assured me that there was nothing wrong with being the way I was.

His voice seemed to wrap around me offering the comfort that I so desperately needed.

I left content.

All of this happened a year ago.

Oh, how so much can change in year.

I continue to attend my lessons but find that the voice that waits for me is not enough for me.

Is it sinful to want my angel to be of flesh and blood?

I want to be held close in his arms.

My feelings just seem to have changed naturally. As a child I was more than satisfied with having my angel's voice and hearing him in the darkness as he coached my voice and instructed me.

But now, now I want to see, to feel and touch.

But that will never happen and it is wicked and wrong for me to think so...

Meg has just told me it is dinner time; I have been writing for well over an hour, I will continue tomorrow.

**Hope you like this, and sorry if the repetition from chap 1 annoys you.**


	3. Divas

**I still own nothing**

**Chapter 3 - Divas**

Christine

Dear Diary,

Right now I am sitting propped up on my bed with Meg across from me writing in her own diary, or drawing flowers or something.

Rehearsals are getting crazier every day. The resident diva, Carlotta, is very temperamental (to put it mildly) and she spends half of her time screeching and shouting at the manager, her seamstresses or us over anything that she can think of.

Today it was because her costume wig was too heavy and we (as in the dancers) were blocking her from the audience. So now our moves have been changed to fit around her and behind her allowing her to be seen at all times by the audience.

The Phantom has began to take more drastic action with the notes that he writes to the manager – how a ghost can even hold a pen is beyond me. I think that it is someone in the company playing a prank, a prank that is in very poor taste judging by the effect that it has had on Monsieur Lefevre the manager.

Meg has heard that the Opera has been put up for sale, if that is true I am surprised that we have not been informed, surely the company would be told if such a decision had been made. The Opera is our home after all.

But there is no use in worrying over something that cannot be changed.

My lesson went well last night. My angel told me that I was making great progress and that my voice was growing in strength and that it would not be long now.

I could not help but glow at his praise as I always do, I like to know that I please him; especially after all of the help that he has given me. I could not help but be puzzled by his last comment though so I asked him what he meant.

"What won't be long master?" I asked quietly feeling a little confused.

"Until we surprise all of Paris my dear." he answered me, a smile in his voice.

I smiled at the empty air and nodded my head a little dumbly, he wished me to sing in the Opera and I had no wish to disappoint him. I once again could not help but wish that he was a real person so that I could wrap my arms around him and thank him for everything that he had done for me. But I cannot, so the only way that I can show him my gratitude is through my voice and by doing as well as I can.

**Bit short I know. Let me know what you think.**


	4. New Managers

**I own zilch**

**Chapter 4- New Managers **

Erik

Entry 2

It is amazing how so much can change in so short a time.

It has been a week since my first entry and the Opera House is under new management.

Madame Giry of course has informed me ahead of the company who will be finding out tomorrow when the two new managers will be paying a visit – to inspect their purchase no doubt.

Of course, being the resident spirit it would be inexcusably rude of me not to introduce myself, so I have a note ready for their arrival. It tells them of my existence, my roll and my salary.

When I began playing the part of the Phantom or Opera Ghost I left notes in the manager's office containing suggestions on how to improve productions, from sets, scenery and costumes, to the dancers, singers and orchestra.

Monsieur Lefevre would accept these suggestions putting them to use and profiting from the results. So, after another success, I decided that I to might as well profit so I requested a salary.

He refused.

He found it very amusing. After all, what possible use could a ghost, a spectre, have for money.

So I planned a number of incidents.

Scenery began to collapse, the opera live stock would be found wondering the auditorium, and the theatre would be plunged into darkness in the middle of performances. And so it continued this way for several months. They bolted the scenery into place, I moved on to the massive curtains. They locked the animal paddocks in the Opera stables, I took the keys and as far as they new spirited the animals out of their locked enclosures – while just letting the animals free, relocking the gates and replacing the key. But still only a ghost could manage such a feat. As for the lights going out, surely that was the final confirmation. A ghost was in residence, and he was not happy.

He finally agreed.

Now I have a tidy sum saved away. I dress as a gentleman and wear a fine leather half mask over the damaged side of my face.

Overtime I assembled my organ. Madame Giry purchased the parts that I needed and had them delivered to the Opera House and left in the lowest basement where I could easily collect them. Ever since bringing me here as a child Madame Giry has been ever present despite her interference being unwelcomed – especially where Christine is concerned. But I must admit in some things I am glad to have her assistance.

In the purchasing of birthday presents for Christine she has been invaluable.

When I first informed her of my lessons with Christine she was worried about the effect I would have on the child as she had just suffered a loss. She soon came to realize though that my time with Christine was good for the child. She told me how Christine was coming out of herself more and was no longer acting like an empty shell. Because of this she agreed to help me in the purchasing of a present for Christine's birthday.

I had noticed that apart from the variety of costumes that she wore for dancing in the child had no dresses apart from the few that she had brought with her and she was quickly growing out of them. But I wanted something special for her also.

I told Madame Giry of my requirements.

Christine had been in black since she had arrived almost seven months previously so I insisted on two new, light coloured dresses being bought for her; she was only a child and in my opinion should not have to have worn the remembrance of her loss for so long.

Second, I wanted something involving a violin purchased for her, something to remind her of the happy times that she had spent with her father.

Christine had come racing to her lesson that evening, breathing heavily and smiling widely as she greeted me.

The black was gone and she stood in the dimly lit chapel looking for all the world like the little angel I had already named her, her small figure no longer robed in the colour of death but the colour of the sky.

"What has you so excited little one?" I asked her, smiling almost as broadly as she was.

"I have a new dress angel," she answered me running her words together in her excitement.

She spun around in a circle and gave a pretty curtsy.

"Madame Giry gave me it for my birthday, and there is another one too it is pink." she continued, her enthusiasm almost buzzing in the air.

I was glad that my presents had pleased her. I did not even mind that another was being given the thanks; her happiness in them was all the thanks that I needed.

But I wanted to know if Madame Giry had managed to find the special item that I had requested of her.

"Were you given anything else Christine?"

"Yes angel I was," she was almost jumping up and down on the spot at this point, her eyes glowing and her smile never faltering.

She spun around slowly several times pointing at a decorative piece in her hair that was keeping her dark curls at bay.

I leaned closer into the wall and pressed my eyes to the hole that allowed me to see her.

There in her hair was a silver clasp in the shape of a violin.

"My new dresses are pretty," she told me as she stopped spinning and lowered her arm "but this reminds me of my father and I cannot out grow it, I will have it forever,"

My heart swelled as I listened to her small voice tell me this. I silently praised the ballet mistress for her choice.

It has continued this way down the years.

Each year Madame Giry on my instruction would find Christine something that in her eyes was so special that she would come running to me, her angel, to proudly display her new treasure...

But this is distracting from the point.

Where was I, the new managers – I really must stop my thoughts from constantly drifting to Christine.

They arrive tomorrow, along with the new patron in tow – some wealthy duke or vicomte, I was not really paying attention when Madame Giry was informing me of this - I was too busy thinking of Christine's next lesson.

She has progressed more than I could have ever dreamed. Her pure, clear voice can soar to such heights.

I have had her practising one of the songs from the upcoming production of Hannibal which opens tomorrow. 'Think of Me'. She sings it perfectly. If I close my eyes it is almost as though she is singing it to me and not just for me – NO. I must stop with such thoughts.

Thoughts like this can lead to nothing but pain and disappointment.

They will never be true.

**Please, please, please let me know what you think. I need to know if I need to do better.**


	5. Confusion

**I own nothing**

**Chapter 5 - Confusion**

Christine

I can hardly write.

Where do I begin?

So much has happened...


	6. Regret

**I own nothing**

**Chapter 6 - Regret**

Erik

Entry 3

Erik. You fool!


	7. A New Soprano

**I own nothing (still)**

**Chapter 7 – A New Soprano**

Christine

How can I write of what has happened over the past few days.

It is all so strange.

So much has changed.

I should start from the morning of the Hannibal premier.

Yes that is what I will do.

The whole Opera was alive and buzzing just as it always is before the opening of a new production.

The stage hands were all busy assembling the scenery and painting the backdrops while the company began a full dress rehearsal – well as full as is possible since all the costumes were not even finished yet (it is so funny when some of the men have to sacrifice their pride and parade around the stage in half finished costumes with their long-johns showing).

Meg and I were running late so we ran crazily through the corridors dodging the swarms of workers, moving scenery and the laundresses bubbling vats – the smell of soap and starch hung heavy in the air.

We rushed towards the others, hoping that Madame Giry had not noticed our late arrival – she pinned us both with a glare banishing the hope of being unnoticed. We threw ourselves into warming up and stretching – hoping to make up for being late.

Carlotta arrived on stage in her full costume, insisting that it had been made too long – despite having demanded that the seamstresses let it down to that length only the day before. Her shrill voice cut through the bustling atmosphere as she hurled insults at the cowering women – her tall frame and flaming hair clearly intimidating the seamstresses. I could not help but feel sorry for them. I for one would never want to be on the receiving end of the diva's temper.

The rehearsals progressed without a hitch for an hour or so (with only the occasional complaint from Carlotta about her costume, wig, stage directions and the list goes on) until Monsieur Lefevre arrived with two other men.

He walked onto the stage bringing the music to an abrupt halt.

Monsieur Reyer the conductor of the orchestra, who can be very temperamental at the best of times, took it upon himself to inform the manager that we were rehearsing, like it was not obvious to anyone but himself.

He apologised for the interruption and asked for everyone's attention.

Our curiosity peaked as we all gathered around the visitors.

He told us that the rumours we had been hearing were true. He was retiring and the Opera had been sold. He introduced the two gentlemen with him as the new owners who would also be acting as managers.

Some of the girls began to whisper about them being rich as they threw flirtatious, coy glances at the two men.

Meg and I began to talk between ourselves - as long as the Opera was still our home let the management do as they wished.

Suddenly someone caught my eye.

It could not be.

Could it?

One of the new managers spoke up.

"May we introduce our new patron, the Vicomte de Chagny,"

I gasped.

Memories from my childhood came flooding through my mind as scenes that only I could see danced behind my eyes.

My father and I walking by the sea, a boy rescuing my scarf from the waves.

"It is Raoul," I whispered to Meg "We knew each other as children. He used to call me Little Lotte."

Meg of course pointed out his looks.

"Oh Christine he is so handsome,"

I continued to watch him – he truly was handsome, with his shoulder length fair hair and laughing blue eyes.

I felt a smile spread across my face as he excused himself from the managers and headed towards us as he left.

He brushed passed me.

He had not even acknowledged me.

I looked at Meg sadly as my smile wavered.

"He would not have recognised me," I mumbled

"He did not even see you," Meg smiled back, seeing my disappointment.

I told her of how we had first met and getting lost in my memories of the past.

Suddenly Carlotta shrieked.

I stopped speaking to Meg and spun around just in time to see a back drop fall from the ceiling above her and send her to the floor where she lay in a heap of red and gold fabric.

"He's here, the Phantom of the Opera," said Meg excitedly.

I sighed in irritation – any incident was blamed upon the Phantom no matter how big or small, more often than not being used as an excuse for the others not doing their jobs correctly...Though a lot of incidents have befallen Carlotta since she began at the Opera.

She screeched angrily as the managers flustered about her, checking for injury and assuring her that accidents do happen.

She snapped.

Her voice rose abruptly and her gestures turned choppy.

She was leaving and not returning until the 'accidents' stopped.

She stomped angrily from the stage, her hairdressers and husband in tow, followed closely by a very agitated Monsieur Lefevre.

Meg drew me back into conversation, mumbling something about finally having some piece. I replied with a comment about feeling sorry for her husband, who always seems to be in his wife's shadow.

I heard one of the manager cry sounding very exasperated "you are all obsessed" and started to laugh, Meg gripping my shoulders as we both struggled to stay on our feet as we doubled over, both of us being more than aware that to outsiders the residents of the Opera would seem very eccentric.

We pulled ourselves together, wiping the tears of laughter from our eyes and standing up straight.

"Christine Daae could sing it sir."

What?

My head jerked up – sing what?

"A chorus girl? Don't be silly." returned one of the managers.

My pride stirred at this comment, what did me being a chorus girl have to do with anything?

"She has been taking lessons from a great teacher," continued Madame Giry, placing a hand on my shoulder and squeezing it in encouragement.

My mind screamed at me and I immediately regretted ever telling the ballet mistress of my singing lessons. What was she doing?

"Who?" questioned the same manager – a short portly gentleman. I could see his perfectly trimmed moustache twitch with agitation and under any other circumstances would have found it very funny.

Who?

What could I possibly answer to that?

"I do not know his name Monsieur." I faltered, my answer sounding stupid, weak and unbelievable even to my own ears.

Madame Giry assured them of my abilities.

I was ushered forward and instructed by Monsieur Reyer to begin singing the aria.

I breathed deeply; I had never before performed for anyone other than my angel before. I let the music seep into me and I began.

I was singing for him, my angel, for surely he would hear me wherever he was.

The song consumed me as I flowed through the words as they came effortlessly to me.

I cannot recall in detail what followed.

It all happened so quickly.

After being applauded by those present I was shoved towards the dressing rooms to be poked, prodded and stabbed with needles as Carlotta's costumes were altered to fit my slight frame.

I was in a daze.

Me. Play the lead.

Impossible.

But my angel would be so proud of me.

He had wanted me to be in the opera as a singer and now I was. But not just any singer, I was the lead soprano; I had succeeded with what he had wished of me.

Thoughts of my angel filled my mind as the seamstresses continued to fit Carlotta's gowns to me.

All too soon the doors of the Opera opened and the curtains were raised.

I went through the entire performance in a sort of trance – how could this be happening? That morning I had been a dancer, only a chorus girl and now I was standing in front of a transfixed audience, singing as I had only done before my angel.

The end finally came as I stood before the applauding audience and smiled as I bowed deeply.

I looked to the side and saw Meg standing just out of sight of the audience. I smiled at her resisting the urge to run towards her and jump with excitement. No, I must stay composed, I bowed again and the curtains were dropped.

Before I knew what had hit me Meg had flung herself at me and hugged me tightly screeching in excitement as she told me how proud she was of me. I hugged her back as I drew the first proper breath of the evening.

I had done it.

I had actually sung in front of an audience and had not messed up.

I found myself being approached on all sides by the cast as they congratulated me. I smiled and thanked them all and as soon as I was able sneaked away to the chapel.

I needed my angel.

I entered the dark chapel and sighed as I sat before the unlit candles surrounding my father's picture. I had fulfilled his dream for me.

I lit one of the candles and sat quietly with my hands in my lap, not thinking of the effect that the damps stone floor would be having on the glittering white costume I was wearing.

Then I heard him.

My angel's words of praise came drifting to me.

I smiled.

I felt my heart swell. I had pleased him.

I was about to speak when I heard someone calling my name, it was Meg.

She entered the chapel quickly sitting on the floor beside me and taking my hand as she began speaking of the performance.

Then she asked the question.

"Who is this teacher?"

I thought for a second.

Should I tell her or not? Her mother already knew so why should she not. She was my best friend so surely she would accept my word.

So I told her. Beginning from my father's death and his promise and progressing to my lessons through the years from when I had first arrived at the Opera.

She looked at me gravely as I completed my story and sighed, she was trying to think of what to say. I could see her mind working as she fought for the right words.

"Christine to you believe...? Do you think that an angel is coaching you?"

But who else could it possibly be I answered her and I began to tell her again of the events down the years. She lead me from the chapel, from my angel ,as she told me that I was not acting like myself, where had my practicality and seriousness vanished too, to suddenly believe in angels?

She led me through the corridors towards the brightly lit foyer and left me in the care of her mother.

Madame Giry quickly took charge and I was marshalled to Carlotta's dressing room. She slammed the door decisively in the faces of the questioning critics and excited audience members.

Her serious expression broke momentarily as she spun to face me and smiled.

"You did very well my dear," she praised "he is pleased with you," she added, handing me a flower and leaving, gently closing the heavy door behind her.

I examined the flower.

It was a rose. A deep red colour and wrapped around the stem was a fine black ribbon.

I sat down at Carlotta's dressing table, feeling suddenly exhausted.

I continued to stare at the rose.

Who was pleased with me?

My angel?

No, how would Madame Giry know if he was pleased with me or not, she only knew _of_ him, she did not actually know him.

But who?

I played thoughtfully with the rose, twirling it between my fingers.

"Little Lotte let her mind wander,"

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted.

"Little Lotte thought, am I fonder of dolls or of goblins or shoes?"

My head jerked up from the rose as I let it slip from my fingers. I looked towards the door to see a tall fair figure standing there.

I smiled.

"Raoul."

He came up to me and embraced me as he praised my performance.

"It has happened Raoul," I told him smiling broadly, he would understand of what I was speaking after all father had told him the stories too "Papa sent me the Angel of Music,"

"He most surely did," Raoul replied, all too lightly for my liking.

"Now I will take you to supper," he announced rising from his crouched position by my chair.

"No Raoul," I answered. I was happy to see him but my angel's regulations still needed to be obeyed – no men.

"The Angel of Music is very strict," I told him seriously.

He laughed heartily at this as he made his way to the door.

"I will order my carriage, two minutes little Lotte," and he was gone.

I sat starring at the door for a few minute not knowing what to do.

I was happy to see Raoul, we had been children together and he was a link to my father, but I felt a little angry at him for just brushing my wishes aside the way he had. I nodded my head, making up my mind. I had no wish to displease my angel, I was going nowhere, and Raoul would just have to understand that.

I stood up slowly from the dressing table and made my way toward the changing screen. Lighting the candles in the candelabra I slipped behind the screen and began the task of unhooking the dress, it really was beautiful, but heavy and cumbersome with its collection of petticoats.

Ten minutes or so later I emerged from behind the screen feeling somewhat liberated now that I was free from the heavy gown. I was still in my thigh high stockings and corset but I had managed to find a lace dressing gown small enough to fit me from among Carlotta's vast collection of clothes. I waited for Madame Giry to return with my own nightwear.

Suddenly all the candles went out and I was left in darkness.

I stopped moving and listened.

Nothing.

I went to move towards the door when a voice filled the room.

My angel.

He was angry.

His voice vibrated with anger as he spoke of Raoul and his offer to take me to dinner. But I had refused. Why was he angry? Had he seen me waver and nearly agree to attend; it was a moment of weakness, the desire to spend some time with an old friend. I apologised.

His voice became gentler, he was not angry with me, a weight lifted from my chest.

I turned toward the mirror as I let his voice fill me; my vision took on a dream like quality as the room became hazy.

I focused on the mirror.

There was a figure there.

A man.

My mind froze.

A man with the voice of an angel.

My angel.

**Hope you like and this isn't a disappointment.**


	8. A Man

**I don't own any of the lyrics or songs.**

**Chapter 8 – A Man**

Christine

I had to stop writing a few hours ago when Madame Giry came to check on me.

It is not that I do not trust her I just do not want her to know anything other than what I tell her, so I shoved this book quickly under my pillow and out of sight, so now I am writing by candle light.

I did not know what to do as I stood starring at the man in front of me.

I watched as his mouth moved to the words that he was saying, it was my angel but he was not an angel though, was he?

He gestured towards me, reaching out with a gloved hand towards me, beckoning me forward.

I stepped towards him spell bound.

I took in all of him in a second as I began to move towards him.

He stood tall and straight, his frame covered by a long black cloak and from what I could tell he was wearing evening dress underneath. On his face was a mask.

Wait.

A mask.

Yes it was, a white mask covered ones half of his face.

What could it be hiding?

But I did not care; as I continued towards him, he was my angel.

I heard Raoul's voice drifting through my foggy mind, I reached towards the hand that was being offered to me, but I hesitated.

What if I was dreaming?

What if he truly was not real?

What if this was punishment for my thoughts? For me wanting him to be truly real.

I looked in his eyes; they were begging me to take his hand.

I could not deny him, I accepted his hand, and he led me on.

I looked around myself as he drew me forward; I was no longer in the dressing room. How had that happened? Lights surrounded us and I took the opportunity to look at him closely.

Descriptions from stories that I had heard drifting through my mind.

A face the colour of a corpse – the mask.

Merging with the shadows – the cloak.

The Phantom.

My angel was the Opera Ghost.

How was it possible?

I did not know how to speak, how to voice my questions, my uncertainties.

So I sang.

The Opera House is very quiet in between productions and so, to keep ourselves busy we - the members of the chorus - come up with songs of our own, the process eating up the hours by the handful. One such song had been of the Opera Ghost, his haunts and tricks. It was this song that came to my lips.

But he was my angel also so I began by singing of his voice coming to me when I needed it the most (laying alone and tired at night) before singing of the ghost.

"_The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind."_ I sang, his head jerked and he looked at me. I could not read the expression in his eyes as he turned away from me and continued the song.

I lost myself to everything but his voice, joining him, as our voices blended together.

He continued to lead me on and I fell deeper and deeper into his words.

I surfaced momentarily from his spell when he seated me in a boat.

A boat?

Where was I that a boat, no a gondola, was needed to travel?

I looked up at him as he too boarded the vessel and proceeded to propel us along.

Once again I was lost, his words filling me, as he guided the vessel.

We approached an alcove and bars raised themselves up out of the water to reveal a grotto. It was beautiful. The kind of thing that I think would be in fairy tales.

Candelabra rose out of the water and the candles lit themselves, bursting into flame all on their own. Light from more candles filled the cave allowing me to make out a great organ at the far side of the dry ground and a curtained area, concealing something from view.

He asked me to continue singing, so I did; running out if words to express myself as he drew the boat along to the ground and leapt out of the gondola. I watched his every move; hardly believing that after all this time my angel was real, standing before me made of flesh and blood. But he was also the Phantom. I thought about this for a second the thoughts taking form in my head so quickly that to write them all down would take hours.

Should I feel used, tricked, disappointed, angry?

Perhaps I should, but I felt none of these things.

I did not care if he was the Phantom, he was also my angel. He had came to me when I needed him most of all, when I was alone and afraid, and he had spoken to me when I most needed the comfort of another's presence. And after all had I not spent the past months despairing over my wicked thoughts. Wanting him to be real. No he was still the being that I had come to love, and now the voice had a body.

I watched him as he took of his cloak, throwing it to the floor.

My eyes stayed fixed on him as once again he sang. Telling me of 'his world', a world with no light, only darkness. But the darkness was safe was it not, through the years I have always sought sanctuary in the gloominess of the darkened chapel.

He approached me, once again reaching out for me to take his hand. I accepted without hesitation this time and he drew me from the vessel, to stand close in front of him.

I turned to look through the gate where we had just entered. His leather covered hand raised to my face and reached for my chin, turning me back to face him.

His voice once again began to weave its spell as he led me from the water moving closer to the organ. Dozens of candles filled the room, allowing me to see the room clearly but I chose to stare at him, my angel.

I focused on his words.

"_Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar."_

I did as was requested me and I felt myself being drawn further under his spell.

He led me up steps leading me to just in front of the grand instrument.

He circled me as he sang, but still I could not take my eyes from him, too frightened that if I should he would vanish and I would discover that this had all been a dream.

"_Only then, can you belong to me..."_

I felt my breath catch at his words; surely he knew that I was his already.

He came back to me reaching towards me with trembling fingers to touch my face, the touch did not last for nearly as long as I would have wished, and his hands drifted down my arms to turn me around. He drew me against his chest and circled my waist I closed my eyes and leaned my head against him. Taking one of my hands he raised it behind me and placed it upon the uncovered side of his face, I slowly turned around.

"_Touch me, trust me, savour each sensation."_ his voice begged me.

He began to lead me on, showing me more of his world.

He drew me towards the curtains, placing me in front of him, he reached around me and pulled, the curtain dropped to the floor.

My mind froze.

There was a mannequin in front of me wearing a wedding dress, behind it there was a mirror just high enough to take in face. Looking at the mirror and with the mannequin hiding my body it looked as though I was wearing the dress.

Suddenly everything had been too much, the premier, Raoul, my angel, the Phantom. Images flashed through my mind as I felt myself fall, I braced myself for meeting the cold hard ground and the pain it would bring, but I never reached the floor.

Even as I write this now I feel so stupid.

How could I faint? Me. Christine Daae.

I have never fainted in my life and it is mortifying to think that I did so in the presence of my angel.

No. Not my angel, but he is...I am so confused. What is he to me?

I will worry about that later, in the meantime my story continues.

I woke up slowly, forgetting where I was and panicking slightly. Then it came back to me.

Carlotta leaving the Opera, my playing the lead, seeing Raoul, being brought here by my angel, no the phantom, the Opera Ghost – here I go again. I do not know what to call him.

My angel, that is still what he is so that is what I shall continue to call him.

I slowly sat up and looked around.

I was in another room and had been lying on a bed - one of the most beautiful items of furniture I have ever seen. It was carved in the shape of a swan each mark had been lovingly placed and at the head board where the wings. It was so detailed that I felt I would feel feathers if touched it.

The sound of the organ playing drifted to me and I stood up slowly and made my way towards the sound.

I was looking down on the grotto.

I could see the boat that had brought me here, the candelabra standing tall in the water with its magical candles and straight ahead of me he was there. Sitting at the instrument he played softly, he paused in his playing and turned. Our eyes met and my breath hitched. What should I do? I was here in the presence of my angel. He turned away from me and began to play again. I closed my eyes for a second and took a deep breath.

Slowly I made my way towards him until I was standing just behind him as he continues to play, his hand dancing over the keys with ease, his masked face bent to his task.

I could no longer resist.

I reached out to touch him, surely there was no sin in one touch – for there was still the fleeting thought at the back of my mind that this was some kind of punishment.

I let my hand rest gently on his shoulder, his head jerked slightly but he made no move to shake me of. Encouraged by this, I took a step to the side to see him better and placed both my hands on his face, running my fingers over the plains of his face, trying to memorise him. His skin was warm and tanned, contrasting strongly with the side of his face covered by the white mask. The leather was cold and hard to the touch. I ran my hands up his face tracing my fingers round from his forehead to his chin, he leaned into my touch.

I was so caught up in my exploration that I had not even realized that he had ceased playing and had his eyes closed.

I stopped, suddenly realizing what I was doing and let my hands drop to my side.

He slowly opened his eyes and looked at me, I starred right back.

"You are real." I whispered

**OK so I decided not to have her take his mask of and not to have him have a wax work of her (even I thought that was a ****bit**** freaky) but I did have it look like that was what it was. Now from the DVD I couldn't quite make out what the bed was (it could be an angel (??)) but I liked the idea of a swan. **

**Hope you enjoyed. Erik's POV next.**

**Please, please review.**


	9. Jealousy

**Don't own the lyrics.**

**Chapter 9 – Jealousy**

Erik

Entry 4

I have felt many things over the last few days.

Despair, relief, anger...

Out of all of these feelings (some so abstract that I cannot even put a name to them) I will always remember that sense of joy and happiness - as close to ecstasy as I have ever been.

But I am jumping ahead of myself; I should begin with the day after my last entry - the day that the new managers paid a visit to the Opera.

I had quietly made my way up to the upper stories of the Opera, quickly concealing myself behind some old props which provided adequate cover and plenty of room to observe without being seen.

I watched as the cast assembled on the stage below me, some still rubbing the sleep from their sleepy eyes as they emerged into view from the darkened corridors. The orchestra sat in the pit and began to tune their instruments, glaring angrily at each other as elbows and instruments were jostled in the quest to get seated.

The dancers arrived together, a mass of giggling fluttering costumes. My heart leapt in my chest, battering against ribcage. Christine, she would be with them.

I risked exposing myself as I slid from my hiding place to get a better look.

There was no sign of her among the excited dancers.

Where was she?

Was she hurt?

Was she ill?

My heart was racing for a completely different reason now as I began to panic about Christine.

Just as I began to move away from the shadows to find her, a familiar figure caught my eye as it darted onto the stage.

It was Christine. She ran swiftly onto the stage followed closely behind by Meg, they quickly joined the other dancers and fell effortlessly into step.

I took the opportunity to watch her with others her own age, she always had a smile on her face and was constantly swapping glances with Meg as they laughed or smiled at something that apparently only they found funny. I could not help but smile at their antics.

"Aaaaa"

My gaze was suddenly snapped from Christine as a scream cut through the air, or was it supposed to be a note. It was hard to tell as Carlotta traipsed onto the stage in full costume looking like some kind of exotic bird displaying her feathers for all to see. Her coarse voice filled the air killing the songs she was singing which were punctuated at points by her yelled complaints at anyone who seemed to be within ear shot.

I spent the best part of an hour drowning out the sound of Carlotta's screaming and replacing it with memories of Christine's lovely, fine, unforced voice as I watched her dance her pieces. She moved gracefully across the stage and I wondered (and not for the first time) why she was never confident about her dancing. But then I suppose that I am biased in my view of her, for nothing she does is less than perfect.

I was so focused on her that I was surprised when all the dancers came to an abrupt halt.

The music had stopped.

What?

I scanned the crowd below me, trying to discover the cause of the disturbance.

Then I remembered why I was here to begin with.

The new managers.

I listened carefully as Monsieur Lefevre introduced the two gentlemen to the attentive company as they pushed forward to get a better look at the new owners.

There was a noise from the side of the stage and I watched a fair haired gentleman stride onto the stage. The managers both old and new drew him into their conversation before introducing him to the more than curious crowd.

The new patron.

I glanced around the throng of dancers, amused by their flirtatious glances as they tried to catch his eye.

I felt anger as I found Christine's gaze too resting upon the new arrival but calmed myself when I saw the thoughtful look that passed across her features – so much different from the smiles and fluttering eye lashes that the other dancers were directing at the man. She whispered something to Meg who joined her in watching the stranger, she leaned in to reply.

I did not know what to feel as a huge smile spread across Christine's face (a smile of recognition with no coyness to be seen)as the Vicomte strode towards her, only to be replaced by a sad smile when he passed her.

My chest tightened as the anger of not knowing spread through me.

But who was I angry at?

I did not know.

I had never before (well not since the ball last year anyway) had to worry about Christine meeting men.

So who was this man, no this boy to Christine to take the smile from her face? By the way she gazed at him she definitely knew him from somewhere.

But where? That was what I wanted to know, what I needed to know.

I walked backwards away from the scene playing out below me, not paying any attention to where I was walking. Carlotta continued to shriek about some gross injustice she felt she had suffered, but I did not care. My mind was reeling with what I had just witnessed between Christine and this imposter.

I heard the orchestra begin to play again as I spun around.

I walked into something, my foot catching on one of the many ropes that filled the floor.

I released my foot moments before the rope whipped from the floor and a backdrop went crashing to the ground below.

I rushed from the scene only just remembering to take my letter for the new managers from my pocket and let it drift to the floor.

I could not hold back the laugh that escaped my lips as I heard Carlotta's indignant screams, after all, if it should fall on anyone what were the chances of the backdrop falling on Carlotta?

As I was now a fair distance from the accident I slowed down ducked into one of the darkened corridors as an angry Carlotta went storming past, shadowed by her ever present followers, hairdressers and the like, not to mention her husband – the man must have lost his hearing years ago.

I was about to follow them when I heard something...something familiar and adored.

I froze.

Christine?

I ran back the way I had came as fast as I could, by some miracle meeting no one as I rushed towards the stage and climbed back into the rigging high above the performers, twisting between the ropes and boards as I searched for a perch.

I looked down.

It was her.

Christine was standing there, on the stage, singing.

Pride filled my chest.

Her strong, pure voice engulfed the now silent theatre, as she held the company under her spell. The two new managers stood with grins spread across their faces as they exchanged glances.

But how had this happened?

How had it come about that she was singing?

I scanned the crowd below just as Madame Giry was doing the same thing to the rafters above her head. Our eyes met and she gave me one of her rarely seen smiles.

So it was her doing.

I returned her smile and turned my eyes back to Christine. She truly does have the voice of an angel – a little angel trapped on earth.

I watched her, as spell bound as the rest of her audience until she had finished.

Magnificent.

I wanted so much to tell her of how proud I was and found myself wanting to take her into my arms – a wish that has been made more frequently during the last year.

She let out a deep breath and smiled at Meg before she was taken swiftly from the stage by the beaming managers.

"Congratulations my dear," exclaimed one of the managers as she was ushered away "You will make a perfect replacement for Signora Carlotta,"

I nearly jumped for joy as I felt an over whelming urge to yell in triumph.

Christine, my Christine was playing the lead in the opera, the lead. Not just some little part but the lead.

It was unbelievable.

The pride that had filled me upon hearing her sing expanded to an almost unbearable proportion, I felt as though my chest would explode with it.

My little love...no I corrected myself almost savagely, I must stop calling her that.

Christine was finally going to prove herself to everyone; she was going to show them what she was capable of, what her voice could do.

I made my way back down below the Opera toward my home, almost in a dream as I thought of Christine finally achieving the goal that I had had in mind for her since her lessons had began. Tonight she would astound all of Paris with her gift.

But my thoughts turned dark as I thought of the boy, the Opera's patron.

The Vicomte de Chagny.

I spat the name out angrily, each syllable catching in my throat.

How could Christine know him?

As far as I knew she had obeyed my wishes concerning men. But then he would have surely spoken to her if they were acquainted but he had not. Instead he had stalked past her as though she was nothing, just another dancer.

My anger returned in full force, growing stronger at this unknown man.

How dare he treat her so, even in a sea of identical costumes I could pick Christine out in a second, and he had been within a foot of her...

But this is just my rambling thoughts so I shall move on.

My thoughts continued to dance between overwhelming joy at the idea of what Christine would soon be doing and anger at this...this...Vicomte.

As my mind reeled with thought I paced the shore of my home restlessly, the hours dragged by until the doors of the Opera were opened, admitting the excited audience.

I made my way to the grates under the orchestra pit where the music would drift to during the performance – allowing me to hear if not see the entire Opera.

I could hear the bustling crowd as they entered the auditorium and found their seats while the musicians warmed up their instruments. I smiled to myself remembering the scene that I had witnesses that morning as elbows were knocked and feet trodden on. I was more than sure that the exact same thing would be happening but just a little less openly.

Finally the chattering audience fell silent as the music began. The chaotic sound of tuning instruments coming together in harmony.

My heart raced as I tried to picture what Christine would be doing, how she would be feeling, where she would be standing on the stage.

My breathing stopped as I heard her voice rise with the music and fill the air.

I could imagine the looks of surprise that the audience would be throwing at each other; after all they were all expecting the tall, fiery haired Italian, not my dark and petite little angel.

I began to breathe again as I heard the audience burst into applause the sounds filling the passage in which I stood.

For the umpteenth time that day my heart filled so much with pride that it was almost an ache.

I stood until the end of the performance, listening closely as Christine hit every note she was required to. Once I heard the final applause and the audience begin their chattering once more I made my way to the chapel, following the dark passages and corridors without much thought, my feet taking me naturally to the place that I wished to go – there was no doubt in my mind that Christine would make her way there at her first opportunity.

I took up my hiding place behind the wall opposite the chapel entrance and waited.

Finally the candles flickered as the air was disturbed. I pushed myself closer to the wall. She was coming.

I was not prepared for the effect that seeing Christine in her costume would have on me.

She entered the dark chapel dressed in sparkling white, her dark hair kept in check by a glittering net of shinning stars. She looked beautiful, the gown making her small frame look all the more tiny and breakable than in her usual dresses.

She took my breath away.

Every inch of her looked like an angel.

I watched as she sat upon the floor and lit a candle (no doubt for her father) and placed her hands in her lap staring into the flame of the candle.

I wanted so much to go to her, but I knew I could not, I must not.

"_Brava, brava, bravissima."_ I let my voice drift to her and I watched as a smile spread across her face at my praise, her eyes glowing in the candlelight

She took in a breath as though to speak when someone called her name.

I was stunned; no one ever came to the chapel.

I watched the entrance curiously.

It was Meg.

She went straight to Christine's side and plopped herself down on the floor, taking her hands in her own.

I turned away to leave, my time with Christine now over. I smiled as I heard Meg praise Christine on her performance and I was glad that her friend had accepted her after her triumph and did not sound in the least bit jealous. Though I doubted that such thoughts would have passed through either of the girls' minds, they could not be more devoted to each other if they were sisters.

I slipped back through the corridors, no longer in the Opera walls.

Christine would be given Carlotta's dressing room no doubt.

I wanted to leave something for her. But what?

I went to the stables; they always kept a vase of roses there. The old stable master's wife had a weakness for the flower and he had got onto the habit of always having a vase for her in case she ever came to visit him...

But I am detracting from the point.

I carefully made my way to the stables dodging into any available alcove or corridor when I had to avoid meeting anyone, the corridors seeming to grow in length as I rushed towards my destination.

There they where, the vase of roses.

I took one from the bunch and seeing a black ribbon lying abandoned lifted that to.

I slipped back into the shadows and made my way back down below the Opera to find the passage that led behind the wall of the dressing room.

Since the Opera House was first built almost 70 years ago the wall of the lead soprano's dressing room has had a floor to ceiling mirror adorning one of the walls. To all appearances a permanent feature, unmovable and fixed in place.

Just shows how little is known of the Opera by the owners.

As a child I spent hours exploring the many twists and turns that few know exist behind the walls of the Opera, one such turn had led me down a corridor to the mirror.

But it was no normal mirror, for I could see into the room beyond without being seen myself. I soon discovered that the glass panel was designed in such a way to shift into the wall allowing access into the room.

Never before in my life have I been so happy knowing this fact. For now it allowed me to enter the dressing room and lay the rose complete with ribbon upon the dressing table and swiftly retreat.

I stayed behind the mirror waiting for Christine to appear, praying that I had been correct in my assumption.

After what seemed like hours the door opened and Christine appeared followed closely by Madame Giry who firmly closed the door behind them.

I watched them as she gave Christine a smile before turning away from her. The smile faltered – she had spotted the rose.

Taking it from the table she handed it to Christine.

"He is pleased" she told her as she went to leave.

She knew it was me who had left the rose. One thing that I have discovered about the ballet mistress through the years is that she can be very astute when she wishes to be – the interfering woman, Christine would not know what or who she was talking about.

Christine stood staring at the rose as she played with the ribbon.

She moved from the door and sat at the dressing table, still examining the rose.

What was going through her mind?

I so desperately wanted to know.

I took my eyes from Christine as I heard movement by the door. It opened quietly.

I looked back to Christine who still had not realised that she was no longer alone, the person spoke and she looked up.

I turned my eyes back to the door and felt the anger from that morning spring to life once more, burning through my body.

That boy.

How dare he.

Who was he to just enter her room without requesting permission?

My vision took on a red haze as he walked straight too her side and crouched by her chair, a smile across his face as he spoke.

He kept calling her 'Little Lotte".

The anger rose even more as he called her a name that was not hers.

Christine sat smiling at him, her eyes dancing as he spoke to her.

Who was he to her?

I had not kept her safe all of these years to have some boy swoop down and steal her away from me. A streak of jealousy shot through me very nearly obliterating the anger that I had felt.

I listened as he congratulated Christine on her performance.

"Papa sent me the Angel of Music." she told him her smile never faltering.

I was shocked, I had always been her secret, she had never willingly spoken of me to anyone before and yet this man appears and she tells him everything.

I guessed that they had been children together; it was the only logical conclusion as Christine would not have had the opportunity to meet someone of his social standing since she moved to the Opera.

He agreed with her statement and rose from his position by her side. I began to breath steadier as he increased the distance between them.

"Now I will take you to supper."

A growl almost escaped my throat as I listened to him.

They may have been children together but Christine was no child now.

What right did he have to come into her life after ten years and start issuing orders to her?

"The Angel of Music is very strict," I heard her explain quietly and firmly.

Ha, I nearly crowed with triumph, despite everything she still held true to her promise.

The boy laughed it off, still heading for the door he told her that he would not be long, leaving Christine yelling his name at a closed door.

How dare he not listen to her wishes, how dare he jump to conclusions and expect her just to go along with his plans.

An idea took root in my mind.

I decided to slow his return down and made my way to the stables, getting there faster through the passages than the Vicomte, who was taking the corridors.

I quickly entered the stables for the second time that day and looked for a carriage that had not been there during my first visit – as patron the Vicomte's horses are stabled with the Opera livestock and not with the other vehicles.

I found what I was looking for and quickly got to work, cutting the leather straps and harnesses that would keep the horses in check and left as quickly as I had arrived.

The Opera was now silent. All the cast heading to bed and the last of the straggling audience leaving for home. Carefully I found the cleaners keys that are kept hanging from a hook in one of the closets and removed the one for Carlotta's dressing room. I was determined that the boy would not interfere. Slipping from the shadows I locked the door. I looked up to meet the eyes of Madame Giry as she stood concealed behind a curtain. I scowled at her as she glared meaningfully at me.

I did not care what she thought.

Christine was mine and I would not lose her.

**OK so I really really hated the first version of this and decided to redo it. There aren't any huge changes but I think it is a bit better than the first attempt. I still think it is missing something though. I just don't know what. I'm still trying to avoid making him sound like a stalker.**

**Once again thanks for the reviews, I am so glad to know that you're all enjoying it (though this chap still might change your mind).**

**Let me know what you think.**

**Cheers. **

**(Wee note for smiley1face23 – thanks for pointing out the spelling. Yip it was supposed to be 'here' and not 'hear'-my computers spell checker has gone a bit crazy and started replacing random words and letters, I thought I had got them all but must have missed some. Same goes for the spelling of Erik. Thanks)**


	10. Giving In

**Don't own the songs the lyrics or the characters**

**Chapter 10 – Giving In**

Erik

Entry 5

I have sat for some time now trying to put some kind of order to my thoughts.

What could have possibly possessed me to have done what I did?

But no answer has presented itself, so all I can do is go through the events step by step.

I returned to Christine's dressing room, hiding myself once again behind the heavy mirror as she walked from behind the changing screen at the far end of the room.

By breath caught sharp in the back of my throat, she looked more like an angel than ever before, standing in the room dressed in white with her dark hair falling unhindered down her back.

I would not lose her.

Not to that Vicomte, nor to some yet unknown man.

The anger exploded within me at the thought of that boy taking my Christine, my angel away from me after all of these years. I would no longer have a reason to live, no one to care for whether I appeared every day or not. I let all my frustration and anger find its way out of me, as I roared my feelings.

"_Insolent boy! This slave of fashion."_

I could not keep the words at bay as they spilled forth, my voice filling the silent room.

I watched her through the mirror as she made for the door of the room, I could not have her discovering that it was locked. I panicked slightly, the feeling making my voice sound rougher and more furious; this made her stop as she glanced fitfully about the room. Her gaze fearful.

She thought I was angry with her.

How could she possibly think that?

Her next words proved me right.

"_Angel my soul was weak, forgive me..."_ Her soft, frightened voice drifted to me behind the mirror as she settled on looking at the ceiling.

She wanted my forgiveness, but I was not angry at her, she had done nothing to warrant my anger. It was him, that boy whom I was angry at and I immediately felt guilty over giving into my feeling concerning her and the boy and letting them show.

I once again felt that overwhelming urge to take her in my arms and this time, I do not know why, I gave into the temptation.

How could I?

How could I do the one thing that I had sworn never to do?

I cannot believe my own actions even as I sit here writing them.

I beckoned her with my voice towards the mirror, as I activated the spring that pushed the glass of the mirror into the wall allowing passage into the tunnel.

She continued towards me, the mirror no longer between us.

My heart was filled with happiness. For here I was, standing in the same room as my angel, my love, and nothing was between us, no glass, no wall, no curtains or even a great distance like when I watched her in rehearsal. It was indeed a heady feeling.

Her eyes never left me as she continued towards me, even as the joy filled me I was waiting for her to begin screaming, branding me an imposter.

I stretched out my hand towards her, praying with all of my being that now that I had finally revealed myself to her she would not turn me away. I could live with anyone's rejection but hers, never Christine's.

I could hardly breathe when her small hand reached towards my own leather clad one; she hesitated a little-yes now it would surely come. The scream.

Frantic thoughts leapt through my frozen my mind.

Please do not let me see that look of disgust, of hate, please Lord no, not from this girl please, anyone else but not her.

Her gaze ran from our hovering hands to my face and her eyes met mine.

Her eyes were shining with wonder and happiness as she gazed into my own for what seemed like an age.

Then I felt it.

Her small, fragile hand slipped itself into mine.

Grasping it firmly I took the opportunity not wanting to risk her changing her mind and I lead her through the corridors.

She began to sing one of the many songs that the chorus girl had made up of the Opera Ghost, but I did not recognise it as such to begin with.

"_In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came..."_

I could have lost myself easily in her voice as it clearly filled the passage where we walked; I knew why she was singing. She had no words to express herself with and the song was the only way she could communicate.

I held back a flinch when I heard her mention the Phantom.

She had guessed.

I could no longer continue to lie to her; she knew who I was, so I joined her in the song, modifying the words to match my own feelings and experiences.

We continued the journey down to my home, Christine never taking her eyes from me as we went from dry ground and into the gondola to carry us to my home. Still I waited for the rejection. Even now I cannot believe that she did not go running from me in horror as I carried her deeper into the bowels of the earth.

The gate at the entrance to the cavern raised itself as the boat caught the underwater latch, in turn making the underwater candelabra rise to the surface, the candles lighting as if by magic.

I pulled the boat up along the shore of my home and jumped from the vessel, turning to face Christine.

I could not believe that she was here in my home, with me.

I stood and watched her for a few seconds still waiting for the inevitable; she would scream and run away. There was no doubt in my mind on that score. It was just a matter of when.

But in the mean time she was here with me and she was staring at me as though I was the only man in the world.

I let the joy and happiness of having her with me fill my body spreading through my blood stream till I was drunk on the knowledge.

I approached her slowly, taking of my cloak as I walked towards her.

I found myself in the same position that she had been in; I had no idea how to voice my feelings. My thoughts.

So I let music and song do it for me.

I began to softly sing to her as I helped her from the boat.

"_Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendour..."_ I sang of my life, the darkness that I lived in, that I hated as a child but now I loved, for she was my light.

Christine took her eyes from me to look towards the entrance.

No, I did not want her to take her gaze from me. That innocent thought filled look.

I reached out and gently turned her chin so that she was facing me again, I immediately felt a peace come over me as her eyes once again rested upon me. I smiled slowly at her, the happiness that I felt needing some kind of release.

I continued to sing as I lead her up the stairs towards my organ, I let go of her as I spread my arms wide taking in all of our surroundings. All of my home.

I circled her slowly, her eyes never leaving mine.

And then, I do not know what came over me, I reached for her slight frame and placed my hands around her waist. She was so small and fragile in my arms. I was intoxicated by the feel of her against me, (I thought I reached heaven when she had accepted my hand in the dressing room, I was wrong). I drew her closer to me, drawing her to my chest as I traced her arms down to her small hands.

I still cannot believe what I did next, but then again I did do a lot of things that night that I promised myself I never would.

Taking her hand in mine I drew it up to my face, to touch it to my unmasked cheek. The feel of her skin on mine was heaven as she caressed my face, she slowly turned in the circle of my arms and I led her onwards, asking her to trust me.

I drew her towards the alcove in the wall, which I had carefully hidden with a cloth. I had seen her eyes linger over it when we had arrived so I decided to show her.

I drew the curtain open, revealing what was hidden.

A wedding dress.

I had rescued it from one of the older productions before the wardrobe mistress got hold of it to turn it into scrap.

So now it stood in my home, hidden behind the curtain, for once I had rescued it I had no idea what to do with it.

Christine stiffened slightly in my hold, and I felt her body go slack and I caught her in my arms as she slumped against me.

I can still remember the feel of her against me as I carried her to my bed and placed her in it. Her beautiful face was soft in the candle light as it played across her features.

My heart swelled at seeing her in my home.

She had not shrunk from me.

I touched my hand to my face, to where her own slim fingers had touched me.

After taking one more long look at my sleeping angel I went to my organ and freeing myself of my dress jacket, tie and gloves began playing, a soft, slow song that filled the air.

I stopped playing as my mind began to race with thoughts.

What would she do upon waking?

In the light of day things would appear clearer, things that seemed mysterious showing for the cheap tricks that they really were.

And what of my mask?

She had made no attempts to remove it, and my Christine was not one to be satisfied with half truths.

What could I do?

My thoughts spun out of control as every different scenario played itself through in my mind. Each one ending with her tearing the mask from my face, and seeing her soft eyes fill with horror and revulsion.

I do not know how it happened but I found myself standing over Christine as she slept the thoughts calming slightly at seeing her sleeping figure.

I could not stand being rejected by her – after all was not that the reason I began this journal, to voice my feelings without actually revealing myself to her, and then of course I did so anyway.

I cursed the appearance of that boy.

If he had never came I would not have even thought of showing myself to Christine.

I crouched by the side of the bed, daring to reach out my hand and trace my fingers down the side of her face, her skin soft against my now bare hands. My heart leapt in my chest as she leaned into my touch.

No I could never live through her rejection.

Hours passed and Christine continued to sleep, I was not worried for I knew that after her performance and then the shock of seeing me she would be exhausted.

I spent the time working on my score for Don Juan, some of the dark and brooding songs of love and despair taking on more promising lyrics within my mind.

I heard movement behind me and I stopped playing.

I slowly turned, not wanting to see any of the possibilities that my mind had ran through.

But I saw none of my imaginings.

Christine stood at the opposite end of my home, looking awe-struck at me, her eyes bright with sleepiness and her hair no longer even hanging onto the pretence of being tamed but curling wildly around her face and down her back. She looked beautiful.

That most definitely had not been one of my possibilities. I had imagined running, screaming, crying, shouting...

She began to walk towards me, and I had no idea what to do, what to say, how to act.

So I did the only thing I was entirely sure of.

I turned back to my organ and began to play were I had abruptly left off.

The music, normally able to soothe me did nothing for my racing heart beat as I waited for her to reach me.

I felt her behind me as she stood silently.

Still no screaming.

Then she moved.

Yes, now she would name me imposter, now she would fly into a rage.

I tensed as her small hand came to rest on my shoulder, her touch like that of a butterfly.

I broke of playing as her hand moved up from my shoulder to my face, her fingers danced around my eyes, my nose, my mask, my eyes closed against my will. No one had ever before touched my face willingly and yet she was, with no prompting from me. I lost myself in her gentle touch, never wanting the sensation to end.

Suddenly her fingers were no longer on my face and I felt the loss of her touch.

I opened my eyes to find myself looking straight into hers.

She took in a deep, shaky breath. Now she would turn away from me.

"You are real." she whispered to me softly. An amazed smile of happiness playing on her face.

What?

That had not been one of my imagined possibilities.

**Ok, so what do you think?**

**I think I did a wee bit too much rambling, but then he is a bit confused himself so it might not be as bad as I think it is.**

**Let me know what you think **

**[Once again thanks so much for the reviews :-)]**


	11. Unworthy

**I own nothing**

**Chapter 11 - Unworthy**

Christine

I stood like a fool, staring at him, my arms firmly fixed to my side as fought the urge to touch him again.

I did not know what else to say.

But what could I say?

My angel was definitely real. All the doubts that had filled my mind the night before vanished, only to be replaced by fresh questions.

Why would he have wanted to spend so much time in my company?

Doubts of a different kind plagued my mind and I closed my eyes against the sight of him.

What could he possibly see in me?

There is nothing special about me, nothing outstanding, nothing important.

And I love him – fool, fool, fool!

He is a genius, an artist – judging from our talks through the years. And what am I? A little nobody.

I kept the tears held back - taking in deep breaths as I tried my best to keep them from falling.

He would leave me.

He would see me for the nobody that I am and send me from him.

How could I, how will I face the world without him?

A picture of Raoul danced in my mind behind my closed eyes, a picture of how he had been the night before. Tall, fair, strong...

But no!

I did not and do not want Raoul.

My heart – all of me – belongs firmly to the man who was seated in front of me.

I opened my eyes suddenly as a finger traced my cheek catching a tear that had escaped my firmly closed eyes. He gently ran his finger down my face to my chin before releasing me.

No – I did not want him to let me go.

I looked at his face – sadness filled his eyes. A horrible pressure filled my chest as he rose from his seat and walked towards the boat.

He was disappointed in me. I had let him down.

"I will return you to the Opera," his voice filled the silence so gentle and strong just as I remembered it being from the night before, yet there was also something strained about his tone, like he was trying to keep something back.

I had angered him somehow.

What could I do?

He turned back towards me and reached for my hand as he escorted me towards the boat and jumped in after I was seated.

"The managers will be missing you," he pushed of.

And he was right, the managers had missed me. They had imagined all sorts to try and account for my absence ranging from sleep walking to abduction.

I had watched my angel carefully all the way back as he returned me to the Opera House.

My surroundings held no interest for me.

What had I done to upset him so?

He was doing what I had feared.

He had discovered that I had been a waste of his time. My heart broke at the thought of this.

I stayed silent as he left me at the entrance to the upper basement and told me how to return to the stage.

Now I am sitting alone on my bed and I have never felt so lost and alone since my father died.

It has been nearly three days since my discovery...since I found out that my angel is a man, and I have not heard from him - despite my regular visits to the chapel. Neither have there been any incidents concerning the Phantom.

Rehearsals have continued as normal, as have the performances, and every night I have sang for him.

I know that I am unworthy of any affection from him and that I am a fool to love him but I miss him so much.

**Oh dear oh dear. So Christine thinks that Erik doesn't care. But what does he really think?**

**DUM**

**DUM**

**DUMMMMMM**

**Erik's point of view next.**

**I am so so so sorry that it has taken me so long to update but it is exam time YICKZ. But honestly you can only do so much revision before your brain turns to goo. So sorry if this is a bit of a slump in standards.**

**Hope you like.**


	12. Lost

**I own nothing**

**Chapter 12 – Lost **

Erik

Entry 6

That was definitely not what I had expected to hear.

I sat watching her, shocked to the very core of my being.

No running, screaming, crying, begging...

But then I watched in horror as her smile began to fade from her face, only to be replaced by a puzzled frown.

She must hate me.

The thought echoed around my mind and I felt my chest tighten in horror.

She was standing in front of me fully awake and now coming to realize that her Angel of Music was no heavenly being but a man of flesh and blood.

But she had touched me? Why would she do that?

I sat trying to answer these questions as she closed her eyes tightly shut and took in a shaky breath.

I focused on a tear as it slid from beneath her eye lid and down her pale cheek.

I had made her cry.

I had made my angel, my Christine cry when in the past I had always been the one to stop her tears. But now...now I was the cause of them.

Before I could stop myself I reached towards her small colourless face and caught the tear with my finger, she opened her eyes suddenly and stared at me as I ran my finger slowly down her soft cheek to her small chin, savouring every second of the contact between my skin and hers.

Sadness and helplessness filled my soul as despair washed over me in battering waves.

She must hate me.

No longer would I be the one she trusted. I had lost our bond, I had lost her because of my selfish actions. I wanted to scream with my anger.

I rose slowly from my seat (not wanting to frighten her) and walked towards the shore of my home, giving her some room.

As gently as I could I told her that I would return her to the Opera House - even just saying the words created a hole in my heart. She was mine though and I did not want her to leave me.

Uncertainties consumed me as I took her small shaking hand in mine a made sure that she was comfortable in the boat before propelling us away from the shore of my home...My prison. Trying to break the silence I told her that the managers would no doubt be worried for her.

I spent the return journey trying to think of words to say to Christine but my voice and words failed me - my usually quick and witty mind slowing down to a torturous pace.

What could I say to her short of a declaration of my feelings for her?

So I remained silent, trying to judge from observation what Christine thought of me.

In silence I took her to the upper basement and gave her quick directions on how she could find her way to the stage before heading back under the Opera House as fast as I could go.

So now I am wallowing in despair, cursing myself for the fool that I was.

I have lost Christine all because of allowing my frustration at that boy get the better of me.

I have known the unparalleled joy of having her in my home, in my bed but now. Now, I live with the knowledge that I caused her tears and my actions caused her pain.

I truly am a monster.

**Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, so now not only does Christine think he doesn't care but Erik thinks that Christine hates him.**

**What will happen next we ask ourselves? **

**Anyway hope you like, sorry it's so short but the first few chaps were pretty long and brain still fried because of exams.**

**Please, please, please let me know what you think so far. Good, bad or indifferent (don't care) I would love to hear from you.**

**Thanks **


	13. Chapter 13

**Unfortunately I still own nothing ;-) **

Christine

We began rehearsals for Ill Muto yesterday.

It had been decided that I would play the countess but thankfully Carlotta stormed into the managers office in all her glory and demanded that I be given the silent roll and she be given the singing.

Since seeing my angel over a week ago I have been losing any desire to sing, I sang for him and now he has left me. So I am more than happy to just stay quiet through the production.

The rehearsals have been going well, both yesterday and today with nothing disastrous happening and still nothing has been heard of from the Phantom – no notes or 'accidents', nothing.

I miss my angel so much.

Raoul has been to see me alot over the past week or so, talking of our child hood and bringing back memories of my father, re-opening old hurts that I have long forgotten with the help of my angel.

He has changed a lot through the years. I know that he is a little bit older than me – twenty-three I think but he acts so care free about everything as though he has no responsibilities at all, which I suppose he does not...

Compared to my angel he looks like a young boy, someone whom I could only have a deep affection for as a friend, but never nothing more.

Meg has questioned me every chance she has had over my disappearance and every time I have managed to steer the conversation another direction but she will eventually corner me and try and get all of the story out of me and when she does I do not know what I will tell her.

Her mother has been giving me funny looks since my return. It makes me feel as though she knows more than she gives away – but then Madame Giry is always the one that seems to deliver the 'discovered' letters from the Opera Ghost to the managers, so maybe...?

**Little bit short I know, but I promise that the next chap will be longer. But hey, at least we know Raoul is out the picture (romance wise). **


	14. Chapter 14

**I do not own anything**

Christine

I have seen him.

I could burst with joy.

I have seen him and been held by him again.

Tonight was the opening night of Ill Muto and everything was set to go, there had still been no accidents of any nature be they suspicious or accidental.

Carlotta was dressed in her extravagant pink glittering costume with a wig on her head that added about another three feet to her already impressive hight. She paraded around the stage in her element for a good fifteen minutes into the beginning of the performance before suddenly a crazy laugh filled the auditorium, even managing to drown out the music coming from the orchestra.

Silence washed over the theatre as we all glanced around, trying to pinpoint where the voice was coming from.

There was more than one.

I edged away from my position (mid stage standing next to Carlotta) towards Meg seeing that she was doing the same thing.

She leaned into me and whispered in my ear

"Do you recognise the voices?"

No I did not, I stood for a second trying to identify the laughter.

The hysterics died down and one of the voices began to speak.

"Listen to that screeching up there." exclaimed the voice, filling the theatre. We glanced to Carlotta whose face was beginning to turn a deep red colour.

I looked towards Meg and our eyes met.

"Joseph" we both mouthed as we continued to listen to the old stage hand's hoarse voice.

"One of these nights she is going to bring down the chandelier with her screaming." he finished by bursting out into another fit of laughter along with his audience – whoever they were.

Carlotta stamped her foot in anger as she looked up at the managers box and demanded everything but Joseph's head on a platter.

I want him brought here, I want him fired, I want an apology...

As the ghostly laughter died down we began again from where we had been stopped and a hunt began back stage for Joseph.

Then much to my horror and everybody else's amazement Carlotta's voice began to fail and she began to croak out her song.

No, no, no what was happening.

Joseph's voice once again filled the air (obviously he had not been found yet).

"Ha, listen to that she is croaking like a toad." he laughed dragging in breaths of air.

Wherever he was he thought that he was free of being heard and did not realize that the entire Opera House could hear him. He is known for his loose tongue when it comes to speaking of people behind their backs but never face to face.

Finally the audience broke down and nearly every row was laughing.

Carlotta let out a scream of frustration and ran from the stage.

No, where was she going?

The curtains fell sharply cutting us of from the audience and the managers appeared in a flurry of activity as they dived to the audience side of the curtain.

Meg came up beside me.

"Christine what is happening?" she asked confusion painted across her face.

Nothing like this has ever happened before at the Opera, the company prides itself on the level of performances that are given and yet this one had turned into a complete and utter shambles.

My arm was grabbed and I found myself being dragged to the other side of the curtain.

"The role of the countess will be played by Miss Christine Daae." announced one of the managers, the news being greeted by a round of applause.

What?

No, no, no. I was screaming inside my mind as I was whisked away to Carlotta's dressing room once again.

I did not want to sing.

What was the point when my angel no longer cared for me.

I stood motionless as Madame Giry helped me dress, tightening my corset and dressing me in Carlotta's elaborate costume, it was huge on me being far to long for my short frame, so pins were used to hold the fabric tighter and heels were put on my feet.

No, I do not want to do this, my mind cried angrily.

I stood staring at myself in the mirror, the very same mirror that my angel had appeared through. I stood willing him to come to me once again.

Nothing.

I wanted to cry with the despair that I was feeling, I felt as though a large weight was pressing down on my chest, like I would shatter into a million pieces with the pressure.

My mind danced with images from our last meeting. Our journey to and from his home, our singing, my waking up to his gentle organ playing.

I slumped onto the seat in front of the dressing table, waiting for someone to come and fetch me and let my head fall to my hands as I took in deep gulps of air trying not to break down into tears.

I will not cry, I will not cry. I repeated over and over.

The last time I had sat in this seat was when I was playing with the rose. His rose. For it had not been long after my return that I figured out just who the flower was from.

Suddenly a hand came down on my shoulder and I gasped spinning rapidly around on the seat.

It was Madame Giry.

She looked down at me and smiled, drawing one of her hands out from behind her back.

I froze as I tried to process what I was seeing before jumping from my seat and throwing my arms around her neck and hugging her tightly.

A rose.

It was a rose she was holding.

A rose with a black ribbon.

From my angel, the Phantom

He had not forgotten me.

Did this mean that he was no longer angry with me?

A genuine smile of joy spread across my face for the first time in days and I danced around the dressing room clutching the rose in my hands.

It was from him, it was from him, I sang to myself in my mind as I spun around happily, all thoughts of crying forgotten.

I heard a cough and the spell was broken.

Madame Giry – who I had forgotten about after hugging her and taking my rose from her – was standing were I had left her with one of her rarely seen smiles on her face.

"It is time for you to go on now child." she told me firmly her smile quickly disappearing and being replaced my a frown. But nothing could shake my new found happiness and I skipped up to her kissed her on the cheek and ran from the room, tucking the rose into the waist band of my dress – I did not care if the flower stood out from my costume I was not leaving it in the dressing room.

So the opera began once more.

I went onto the stage full of happiness and the desire to do well, for now my angel was back in my life.

I flowed through the songs, the flirtatious lyrics coming out lightly from my lips as I flitted across the stage my heart light in the knowledge that my angel was watching me.

Everything went fine, I noticed a slight bustle to the side of me when Joseph was tracked down, he was obviously drunk and being very loud in his views of everything as he was escorted to the managers office.

Clapping and cheering erupted as the final notes were played by the orchestra.

We all bowed deeply as the curtains dropped, cutting us of from the audience.

This time no one made the fuss that was made for Hannibal, Meg came up to me and told me once again that she was proud of me and I gave her a hug telling her that I wished I could dance like she does. Which I do. Ever since we were young Meg has possessed a natural grace while me, I just trip over everything and have to work hard just to stay upright – though the ballet training through the years has helped with that, a little.

The cast did nothing but gossip about Carlotta's disappearance and where Joseph could have been talking from to be heard by the entire theatre throughout the after-show part.

I made my escape as soon as I could, not wanting to attract any attention after my disappearance the opening night of Hannibal.

Just as the others began to make their way to bed I began to move away from the group only to find myself being grasped by the waist from behind and spun around. I tensed up as I was pulled roughly against a chest and lips came near my ear.

"You were wonderful." whispered a male voice.

Raoul.

I turned in his grasp, remembering the last time I was in such a position – in the arms of my angel.

I looked up at his smiling face. The face of a boy.

"Thank you Raoul." I mumbled glancing down at my feet.

His hand came up and soft fingers gripped my chin, tipping my head up.

Another memory surfaced. But it was not the soft touch of skin against skin but the leather of gloves...

"Christine?" he questioned me softly. "Are you alright?"

Ever since my 'disappearance' he has been very careful of me and so far whenever questioned about where I had been I have managed to avoid answering.

"I am fine Raoul, really." I answered softly just wanting to get away suddenly. I wanted to be outside. I needed fresh air. I would go to the chapel after I could breath properly.

"I am just tired Raoul so if you do not mind..." I trailed of, feeling terrible for the way I was treating him but I felt as though I was suffocating it seemed like he was always there, I never had any time to myself. He was always just behind me or looking for me. His finger slackened on my waist but did not release me.

He sighed heavily and shook his head finally releasing my waist. I allowed myself to breath a little deeper.

"Very well Christine." he reached for my hand now and brought it to his lips kissing it softly.

"Go to bed and I will see you tomorrow." he said quietly dropping my hand.

Feeling awful for the way I was acting I wrapped my arms around him giving him a brief hug.

"Goodnight Raoul."

I walked away as fast as I could without making it obvious that I was in a hurry only turning around to see if Raoul had left and he had.

I ran now, making my way to the twirling staircase that leads to the roof of the Opera House.

I could not get there fast enough, nearly sending myself sprawling onto the floor more than once in my haste to breath fresh air.

Finally.

I opened the door to the roof wide and ran out onto the roof taking in as much air as I could as I looked out over Paris, the lights making the city look like a sparkling jewel in the darkness.

I raised my face to the sky and spun around, feeling free and happy, dancing as I had in Carlotta's dressing room.

The fresh air took away the horrible feeling of suffocation that has attacked me when with Raoul.

I needed to speak with my angel now, so I turned to make my way back to the door, back into the Opera House when a figure caught my eye.

I watched, wide eyed, as the figure approached me, moving out of the shadows and into the moonlight.

It was him.

Here.

Standing only feet away from me.

I could not hold myself back.

I broke into a run, throwing myself at him and burying my face in his chest as I felt his arms close around me.

**AHH!**

**I have been working on this for the best part of a week, had a major blockage of some kind.**

**I hope you like the little turn on events I have with Joseph. I never really like the idea of the Phantom going around killing people.**

**Please let me know what you think.**

**Erik's thoughts are next . **


	15. Chapter 15

**Yes life is still unfair and I still own nothing.**

**Sorry about any crazy spelling, my spell checker has gone crazy again. I think I have got all the mistakes but apologies if I have missed any.**

Erik

Entry 7

I have never felt such joy before in my life.

I have held her in my arms once more and she does not hate me.

It has been some weeks since the premier of Hannibal and the Opera is now performing Ill Muto, a comedy.

I had stayed away from Christine, not going to the chapel or even watching the performances. I felt disgusted with myself for the distance that I felt I had created between myself and Christine. For making her hate me as I was sure she did.

I remained under the Opera House composing my own opera, working on it tirelessly slamming the notes home angrily as I worked on the score. My mind filled with pictures of Christine against my will. Her soft innocents eyes, her long wild hair, her small frame...

It had been a week since I had made my appearance to Christine, shattering all of her illusions, and I had not once delivered a note to the managers or been the cause of an 'accidents' and I needed to venture up to the theatre in search of food.

Sluggishly I made my way to the surface, the rehearsals were in full flow for the new production so the corridors in the cast wing of the theatre were silent. I found Madame Giry's room ready to leave a note with a list of provisions and head back home, when I heard a cough behind me.

"Hello Erik." Madame Giry's soft voice filled the silence.

Turning around I nodded and walked towards where she was standing in the door meaning to step past her and return to the lake.

Her hand shot out and caught my arm stopping me.

"We need to talk." she told me sternly.

"We have nothing to talk about." I snarled in reply just wanting to be left alone with my grief.

"Christine has been missing you."

What?

Why would she miss me?

I was an imposter, a liar.

Oh yes she missed her angel, not me.

I violently jerked my arm from her grip and began to move away again only to stop as she continued.

"She goes to the chapel every night Erik, and every night she leaves it in tears."

I had made her cry again. I was a monster.

"Erik, what are you doing?"

I did not know how to answer that.

"I know that it was you that she spent the night with a week ago."

she sighed heavily and stepped towards me.

"Did something happen that I should know about and prepare for..." she trailed of suggestively.

I snapped my head up.

She thought that I, that we, that Christine and I...

How dare she!

"How dare you even suggest such a thing Madame. How dare you think that I would tale advantage of Christine in such a way." I cried angrily at her, shaking with my rage.

"Come now Erik." she scoffed taking no notice of my out burst as she moved further into her room after closing the door. "What did you expect me to think. You have been no where near Christine since that night and she is getting paler by the day. she is hardly eating and her singing is deteriorating."

A wave of guilt and confusion washed over me.

I had done this to my love, making her ill all because of my selfishness.

"She needs you in her life Erik, you have been her friend and teacher for to long to just leave her."

I shook my head rapidly as I leaned heavily against the wall, all to suddenly it was difficult to stand.

"I am no longer her angel." I mumbled.

"Of course you are. What would make it any different?" asked Madame Giry sharply as she sat down at her desk.

"She knows that I am the Opera Ghost." I snapped, angry that the women in front of me could not grasp what I was telling her.

Suddenly she stood sharply and marched towards me standing before me with her hands on her hips.

"Now you listen to me Erik." she cried angrily at me her voice rising with every word.

"Christine needs you, she is wasting away without you so you will find out a way to fix what you think you have done and you will get yourself back into her life. She is like a daughter to me and though I may not have approved of this relationship of yours at the beginning I saw what happiness you brought to her and I will not let you take that away from her." she took in a deep breath and opened the door smartly.

"Now go and think about what I have said." she snapped all but shoving me from the room into the thankfully still empty corridor.

I returned home thinking of what she had told me.

Christine was still going to the chapel, even though she knew I was no angel. And she was leaving it every night in tears presumably because I was not there.

Maybe there was hope after all.

**Woohoo go Madame Giry hehe.**

**So here's the deal. I have had 93 visitors and only 6 reviews (thank you sooooo much I loved getting them). Can someone please help me get to double digits please, please, please, please. **

**I am not going to hold my chapters hostage for reviews so don't worry but it would be nice to get them anyway. It's nice to know that people are enjoying what I am coming up with (or not??)**

**Erik's take on the rose episode next.**


	16. Chapter 16

Erik

Entry 7 continued

After thinking of what Madame Giry had told me and cursing her for the interfering woman that she is I began once again to watch the performances – or, in this case the rehearsals for Ill Muto.

I soon discovered that the ballet mistress had been correct in her assessment of Christine. She was a shadow of her former self, hardly speaking to anyone other than Meg. Also, much to my anger, I watched as the boy made a nuisance of himself dancing attendance upon her. She looked so tired and upset that I just wanted to take her in my arms and tell that stupid boy to leave her be. But I did not.

Christine I soon learned had been given the silent role in the new production due to some screaming and hysterics on Carlotta's part. This angered me, but seeing that Christine did not seem to mind and judging by her body language she was more than happy to stay in the background, so I kept all thought of causing any accidents to myself.

Then came tonight. The opening of Ill Muto.

I had decided to give Christine a rose, continuing with what I had began the opening night of Hannibal, so that she knew that I was there for her. But much to my dismay the entire Opera House was in turmoil just before the curtains came up so it was not until the orchestra struck up that I was able to sneak undetected to the stables and provide myself with a rose – courtesy of the stable master.

Feeling very proud of myself I swiftly retraced my steps down the abandoned corridors only to have to duck into an alcove when a group of stage hands went ruching past.

"Where could he be?" questioned one.

Where could who be?

"Joseph has gone to far this time." stated one.

Ah Joseph.

"The whole opera heard him this time. Carlotta won't be back till she has his heart." said another one.

What?

Carlotta had left again.

What had brought this on?

But I did not care this meant that Christine would once again be the lead.

I ran quickly to the passage behind the dressing room wall and peered through the mirror.

There she was.

My heart did a flip as I saw my angel standing there in an oversized costume with a massive wig on her head.

She looked utterly adorable standing in the middle of the dressing room dwarfed in the pink, glittery wardrobe creation it being a good four inches too long for her.

I watched as Madame Giry left the room and ushered the seamstresses in, who began to pin the dress into place.

Grasping at the opportunity I sprinted back to the corridor reaching it just in time to grab Madame Giry arm.

She spun around in fright. Gasping my name when she saw who I was.

"You should not be here Erik, it is to risky." she told me, stating the obvious.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes, instead I thrust the rose I was carrying at her and instructed her to give it to Christine before returning to my spot behind the mirror.

I arrived just as the seamstresses left. It was a miracle how they had managed to fit the tent like gown to Christine small figure.

She stood directly in front of the mirror and for the barest of moments I thought that she knew that I was there, but I watched as she shook her head sadly and sat down at the dressing table and wearily dropped her head to rest on her small hands.

Memories danced through my mind as I remembered her delicate fingers gently tracing and caressing my face.

I shook my head, breaking myself free from the memories as the dressing room door opened revealing Madame Giry.

She approached Christine's still form and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

Christine who had obviously been deep in thought spun rapidly in her seat to face the other woman.

Madame Giry smiled softly at her drew her hand from behind her back revealing my rose.

I watched fascinated as Christine slowly reached for the flower and taking it from the ballet mistress she threw her arms around the older woman's neck and hugged her tightly.

She then began to dance around the confines of the dressing room, gracefully spinning around dancing dome kind of waltz with an invisible partner a smile firmly set on her face as she clutched my rose to her.

My heart swelled seeing what happiness I had brought to my love through one little token.

Madame Giry cleared her throat and announced to Christine that it was time for her to go onto the stage. She skipped over to the woman and kissed her on the cheek before leaving the room and I watched in joy as I saw her tuck my rose into her dress at the waist. I wanted to run, shout and jump for happiness at seeing this.

Did this mean that she did not hate me?

It must.

A smile had immediately covered her face and reached her eyes when she had been given the rose..

But then how did she know that I was the sender, I thought to myself panicking slightly.

But then, my Christine was smart I thought comfortingly, she would have figured out by now, connecting the last rose that had arrived for her, the letters sent to the managers through Madame Giry and the woman knowing so much of the ghost.

So surely she knew that it was from me.

And it had brought that look of happiness to her whole body, it had caused her to dance about the room.

I made my way to one of the basements in a daze, standing beneath the grates as I listened to my angels voice as she sang flawlessly.

I could not help but smile as the audience burst into cheers not much different from Hannibal. I could just imagine them on their feet as they clapped their hands together for Christine. That familiar sense of pride filled my chest once again.

I waited for the noise and chatter of the audience to die down – signalling their departure before making my way to the chapel and awaiting the arrival of Christine.

She never came.

I waited for what seemed like an age as doubts once again filled my mind.

Had she grown tired of me not being there for her?

Did she no longer want me in her life?

But then I remembered the rose and how she had danced around the room...

Making up my mind I went in search for her, keeping in the shadows and ducking behind doors as sleepy cast members staggered past me on their way to bed.

Finally I saw her, but she was not alone.

My chest tightened as I saw that boy, the viscount, wrap his arms around her waist and draw her against him. I saw her stiffen and wanted to roar in anger.

She turned in his arms and they spoke for a minute, before he released her, I felt a sense of satisfaction as some of the tension drained from her body. She did not like having him near her so much.

She embraced him quickly and turned to leave, walking in the opposite direction from him and he vanished quickly round the corridor.

Christine meanwhile, instead of heading to her room as I thought she would, ran towards the twisting staircase that leads to the upper stories of the theatre I watched from the base of the steps as she raced to the top and disappeared from my view. Seconds later I heard a door slam.

There was only one door on the top floor.

As soon as she vanished form sight I followed, reaching the door to the roof in minutes. Taking a deep breath I gently opened the door praying that she would not be just on the other side.

My prayer was answered.

She was at the opposite end of the roof – dancing.

I watched her as she gracefully spun around the roof totally absorbed in her task.

She stopped and looked out over the city before turning back and heading for the door.

My heart began to thunder in my chest.

I could not let her just walk away, not when I was this close.

Slowly I walked from the shadows and stood in the moonlight.

Her steps ceased immediately and she starred at me.

Then much to my amazement and delight she ran towards me and threw her small body against mine.

I wrapped my arms tightly around her not wanting to release her ever again.

She buried her head in my chest and I held her closer to me.

"Please don't leave me again." she whispered.

**So, what do ya think?**

**I know that you might be getting a little fed up with the whole what if he/she hates me thing but I promise that I will have all the doubts put right in the next couple of chapters. **

**I just had to have him say what he thought about her in Carlotta's costumes, it was just an opportunity to good to miss. I always thought that it was pretty funny how we always get to hear Carlotta screech away with bizarre bits of music (e.g. beginning of Hannibal) and dressed in outlandish costumes but we never see Christine in the Ill Muto outfit or hear her sing the opening Hannibal sequence (all her songs are lovey dovey) – anyway just a thought :-), anyone else have an opinion on that or is it just me??) **

**Hope you like.**


	17. Chapter 17

Christine

I must have sounded so pathetic begging him not to leave me.

But I did not care.

I held onto him all the tighter as I felt his arms close around me holding me close to his warm body.

My heart raced as I felt his hand on my head as he stroked my hair gently form head to waist and back again. He had not shook me of. I pushed myself closer into his body wanting to disappear into him never wanting him to let go of me.

I was content, standing in the open air in his arms.

"Have you missed me little one?" he asked me softly.

Yes that was the voice of my angel, my love.

"Yes, more than you know." I answered him shakily trying to get myself even closer to him than I already was.

"I am sorry Christine." he whispered.

There was such sadness in his voice that I pulled myself away from him needed to look into his eyes and find out the cause of his sadness.

I peered into his face, the same face that I had seen for the first time a few weeks ago.

He was just as I remembered.

He dark hair was neatly brushed back from his face, his leather mask still covering half of his face (not for the first time I found myself wondering what was behind it, but I did not care, if he wished to show me one day than so be it), his dark eyes were filled with sadness, but happiness also.

I reached out and held his uncovered cheek in my hand, he leaned into my touch like he had before, closing his eyes slowly and holding my hand to his face.

"Why did you stay away so long?" I asked gently. "I have missed you so much."

Opening his eyes he took my hand from his face and held it firmly between us.

He seemed to flounder for a moment, searching for the right words.

"I thought that you would hate me." he mumbled.

How could how think that. I would never hate him.

"No, no, of course I do not hate you. Why would you think that?"

"I have mislead you all these years Christine, playing the angle, lying to you."

I shook my head and leaned into him, once again wrapping my arms around him.

It was amazing that this strong man in front of me was so unsure of himself.

"I am thankful everyday for you being in my life." I told him firmly, stepping away. "I do not care how it came about or under what pretence this happened." I continued never feeling more sure of myself in my life. "You were there for me when no one else was, when I needed someone to care for me." I took in a deep breath.

Should I tell him how I feel? What my true feeling are?

Where I had been more than sure of myself a second before, I was now hesitant.

What should I do?

Making my decision I did the only thing I could think to do.

Once again I stepped towards him and placing my shaking hands on his shoulders I stood on my toes and swayed towards him.

I saw a flash of insecurity pass across his face before whispered horsely.

"I love you."

Slowly I pressed my lips to his.

Had I made the wrong decision.

I was not entirely certain of what I was doing, having never kissed anyone before.

He stood there motionless.

I went to move away. And then, to my joy his arms closed around me pulling me close to him.

He was kissing me back.

And it was perfect.

But all things come to an end and the moment was broken as I heard my name being shouted.

Raoul.

**OK so what do you think?**

**Ahh that Raoul is just a pain in the neck isn't he.**

**I can't really figure out if I am moving things a bit to quick but then we know that she loves him and he loves her so hey I think it's about time that they finally told each other (but so so sorry if anyone is disappointed about that).**

**I am not going to have her ripping the mask of his face ever, since I am working on the idea that she loves him. She fell for him when she only knew him as the voice so it's his personality that attracts her. **

**Erik's thoughts next.**

**Woohoo 11 reviews thank you, thank you, thank you. :-)**


	18. Chapter 18

**Don't own anything.**

Erik

Entry 8

I held her closer to me as she pushed against me, as though she was trying to get inside my body.

I did not mind, so I helped her in her goal and held her tighter, happiness filling me at having her so close to me. I began to slowly stroke her long hair, loving the feel of it again my bare hands.

One of us needed to break the silence so I decided that it would be me, we could not stand like this all night, though I may have wished me could. So I asked her the simplest and safest question that I could.

Had she missed me?

Though I could tell that she had and Madame Giry had told me so I did not quite realize how much I needed to hear the words from her own lips.

She had missed me, I felt a wave of relief at hearing this.

I apologised softly to her, feeling regret for having left her alone for so long when it had clearly caused her a lot of pain. As much as it has caused me.

I felt her stir in my arms and she moved away from me.

No I did not want her to move, I did not want to let her go.

She looked up into my face and I felt ashamed of my mask, but she was not staring at the white leather that adorned half my face instead she was looking into my eyes, her own being filled with wonder and worry.

Her small hand rose to my face and closed around my bare cheek. A feeling of bliss filled me at her touch and I leaned into her hand raising my own and placing it over hers, pushing my face into her palm I closed my eyes. Content.

Then came the question that I had been dreading.

"Why did you stay away so long?" she asked me softly "I have missed you so much."

I opened my eyes to look at her puzzled face and slowly took her hand from my face holding it between us as I tried to think of a reply.

Finally I settled on my answer.

"I thought that you would hate me." not only hate me, but despise and loath, I added inside my head.

"No, no, of course I do not hate you. Why would you think that?" she answered me passionately, shock filling her voice as she looked at me in utter confusion.

My heart swelled in the knowledge that she did not hate me and by the look on her face she never had.

I had posed as an angel for all these years, deceiving her.

She shook her head at my explanation and wrapped her arms around me once more. Happiness filled me yet again as I felt her arms around me.

She then told me that she was grateful for having me in her life, she did not care how it had came about,that I had been there when she had needed someone to care for her (if only she knew how mush I loved her).

She took in a deep breath looking at me, her expression indecisive.

I did not know what she was doing as she moved towards me and standing on her toes she placed her hand on my shoulders leaning into me.

Then she whispered.

"I love you."

My heart stopped beating and everything seemed to slow down.

She continued to lean towards me and then her soft lips fell onto mine and I froze.

She loved me.

She. Loved. ME.

I had never in my life expected to hear those words form her lips.

I had expected to love her from a distance and watch as some gentleman like that boy swooped in and carryed her of.

I felt her move away from me, but I could not allow it.

I took her in my arms, holding her tightly.

I half expected her to pull away from me but she did not, instead her arms wrapped around my neck as I kissed her in return, losing myself in the moment.

She loved me, she loved me.

My heart was singing with joy.

"Christine."

She stiffened in my arms and we broke away from each other, but I would not let her go completely and kept my arms around her waist.

That boy.

"Christine."

By the faint sound of his voice he was climbing the staircase.

I looked at Christine, her eyes shining with joy. Joy that I had put there.

I pulled her to me once more and kissed her forehead.

"I have to go."

Her grip on me tightened but she nodded her head in understanding, releasing me slowly.

I pulled away from her and ran for one of the statues that covers the roof of the opera, and hid myself behind it just as the door of the roof opened revealing the vicomte.

"Christine, what are you doing up here?" his voice drifted to me and I felt my muscles clench.

"I though you were tired and going to bed." he added. I peered around the statue to see him wrap his arm around Christine shoulders and lead her towards the door.

I felt a twinge of joy as she turned to glance in my direction, smiling.

"I needed some air Raoul." she answered him softly.

"Well I will escort you to the dormitories." he told her.

I felt my anger rise.

"No Raoul, I need to go to the chapel." she said softly as he opened the door.

"It is getting late Raoul, go home, I will be fine." she continued her voice fading away as they vanished from my sight.

My mind reeled with what had just occurred.

Christine loved me, she had kissed me, she loved me.

But then it occurred to me, I had never told her how I felt. That stupid boy had appeared.

The chapel, she was going to the chapel.

Quickly I made my way through the silent theatre not bothering with the passages behind the walls but sticking to the empty corridors.

I approached the chapel to see Christine standing before the candelabra a candle lit before the picture of her father.

Her head twitched to the side and I knew that she knew it was me.

I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her small waist as she swayed against my chest her head resting on my shoulder.

I leaned in close to her ear.

"I love you to, my angel."

**Awww!**

**Hope you like.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Still own nothing.**

**This is version 2 and has all the spelling and grammer that i could find fixed, it wasn't till i re-read it once i had already posted it that i saw all the mistakes. I think that the changes happen as i save my files so bear with me please. Thanks.**

Christine

I have a ring on a chain around my neck.

My engagement ring!

But I am jumping ahead again so I'll start were I left of last time.

After being whisked away from the roof by an overprotective Raoul, he escorted me to the chapel and left me after I reminded him that he was keeping his horses waiting.

I stood alone in the chapel hopping that my angel had heard me and that he would come to me.

It was not long after Raoul had left me before I felt strong arms close around my waist, I leaned against my Angels tall frame and was content.

Joy coursed through me as I listened to his next words.

"I love you to, my angel."

I turned in his arms and looked up at his face.

"You mean it." I mumbled slowly not knowing whether to believe him or not, after all he is a master musician that much I know. And what am I , just a chorus girl.

He smiled slowly at me before kissing me gently on the forehead.

"Yes, my love I mean it."

It has been nearly four months since he first revealed himself to me and I have never been happier.

After the opening of Ill Muto I was cast as the countess until it had run its course and Carlotta came back.

Everyone was sure that it had been the evil touch of the Opera Ghost that had sent Carlotta running from the stage and I myself was not entirely sure that my Angel had had nothing to do with Carlotta's condition. But I kept my suspicions to myself not wanting to jump to conclusions and we soon found out that Carlotta was ill in bed with a bad case of the flu. I can not deny that I breathed a sigh of relief once this became known but I was glad that I had not approached my angel about it.

Joseph had been given the job of cleaning out all of the old storage closets for his sins. It had turned out that he had been in one of the upper basements that had some of the old piping system leading to it from the auditorium, no one had been there for years so it had not been noticed how the sound travels clearly through the pipes to the theatre.

At the first opportunity I had I asked my Angel if he had a name, he told me it was Erik.

My lessons have continued as normal the only difference being that they no longer take place in the chapel, but by the underground lake. It is so peaceful under the opera. It is hard to find a silent place in the Opera House itself even the chapel can be invaded by the noises coming from the many corridors and halls. But by the lake there is nothing but silence.

Raoul continued to be attentive hardly letting me out of his sight despite my constant reassurance that I was perfectly safe. I thought to begin with that it was his overprotective nature coming to the front from when we had been children since as the older of the two of us he was always careful of me. But, it all came to a head a month after my performing in Ill Muto.

I was alone in the dormitories preparing for my lesson and day-dreaming – something that I had never before been guilty if doing until I met my Angel – I was humming the song that we were practising as I moved around my bed when I heard a cough behind me.

It was Raoul.

He moved over to me nervously and I panicked wondering what he had to say to me. He then began to pace in front of me as he counted of reasons for us to marry.

What!

Marriage!

I had no idea what to say or do, as he launched into his 'proposal' so I stood and listened. It sounded more like a business proposition than a marriage proposal. I did not even know where the idea of marrying me had came from. I am chorus girl and he is a member of the aristocracy.

So I told him, pointing out that his parents would hardly approve of his choice in bride – keeping it to myself that my heart was already taken.

He was very upset as I refused him as gently as I could, not wanting to hurt his feelings and he stormed from the room mumbling something under his breath.

I stood still feeling somewhat shocked at what I had just heard.

I should have been honoured that a gentleman of his position in society would want to wed me, for despite my sheltered life I am more than aware that he could have insulted me by asking me to be his mistress.

But what of my Angel, what of Erik.

I loved him and he loved me but marriage had never been mentioned between us...

I went to my lesson in a thoughtful mood as I carefully made my way through the passages until Erik met be halfway there. I could not help but be pulled from my thoughts when I saw him. I ran to him and threw my arms around him as I always do, still revelling in the idea of holding my Angel close to me.

The lesson went well, the silence of the underground caverns swallowing up the notes that I sang as I pushed the thought of Raoul to the back of my mind. I soon noticed though that Erik was not himself, he was on edge and seemed preoccupied.

I did not want to pry but his mood was to obvious to ignore so I finally gave in and asked him.

He looked up sharply from where he had been rearranging a pile of music for the umpteenth time and I went over and covered his hands with mine, stopping hims agitated movements.

He sighed heavily and took one of my hands in his raising it to his lips and kissing it.

I was puzzled. He still had not answered me.

He sat me on the bench in front of his organ and crouching beside me he took both my hands in his and began stroking them softly with his thumbs.

"Christine..." he trailed of glancing around the room as though looking for inspiration.

"Christine I ..." he trailed of again, I did not know what to do. What ever he was wanting to tell me he had to do it himself.

"Christine you know that I love you." I nodded my head dumbly as his eyes finally settled on mine, just where was this going.

"I will always love you and I want you to know that you can say no to this if you wish and it will not change my feelings for you and I will always be there for you no matter what."

I nodded my head again as I listened to his nervous speech.

Reaching into his jacket pocket he drew out something and my mind froze.

A ring.

He took in a deep shaky breath and I just sat there wide eyed.

"Christine Daae," he said softly "Will you make me the happiest man on earth and consent to be my wife?"

I launched myself at him, knocking him to the floor where I landed on top of him showering his face with kisses. His cheeks, his chin, his eyes, his lips anywhere that I could reach.

"Yes, yes, yes." I whispered repeatedly between kisses. He laughed heartily and his arms closed around me holding me close as his lips met mine.

I went about in a dream and with a smile on my face for weeks (no one knowing the reason for my happiness) with the ring kept close to my heart on a delicate chain that had been my mothers after we both agreed to keep it a secret for a while yet, after all who can be engaged to a ghost.

That was three months ago.

I can sometimes feel Raoul's eyes resting on be and it is as though a hole is being burned into my skin. Upon my refusal of his proposal he has stayed away from me, which I am glad of as his attentions were making me uncomfortable and the subject of gossip amongst the cast who were jumping to all sorts of conclusions about the two of us.

But even Raoul's constant staring can not dampen my happiness.

**This was the most difficult chapter yet, I must have started and deleted it about six times (no joke).**

**Got a bit stuck on Erik's proposal but I wanted to make it clear just how much he does love her and wants to be in her life ever if she wasn't ready for that kind of commitment yet. **

**Just in case you are wondering about Christine not mentioning the mask, she is blinded by love so she has reached the stage were she hardly even notices it any more so I thought I had better explain that in case you thought I had forgotten.**

**Coming up is Erik's point of view and also the masked ball. **

**Hope this wasn't a disappointment.**

**Please let me know what you think. **


	20. Chapter 20

**I still don't own anything – it is so unfair (sniff sniff)**

Erik

Entry 10

I am the happiest man on earth.

My little angel has accepted me for all I am though she knows it all.

It has been some months since my first appearance to her and we have settled into a routine that has not been broken, I continue with her lessons as we have done for years but now she comes to my home instead of the chapel. It fills me with joy to see her at ease in the place that I have called home for so long.

After a few weeks of our new arrangement she began to wonder how I had came to live beneath the Opera House.

I had been expecting the question for some time and was surprised that it had taken her this long to ask but it did not stop me from being concerned about her reaction.

I pondered for some time over just how to tell her but the words still got caught deep in my chest. I had just got her and I did not want to risk losing her.

I was standing with my back to her as I put away some of the sheet music that I had been using and I now that I my whole body tensed when she asked me.

My mind spun out of control as I tried to make my voice work.

I was about begin my story and was taking in a deep breath when in felt her small arms wrap around my waist and her forehead came to rest between my shoulder blades. My heart stopped beating for a moment at the contact.

"I am sorry Erik." she told me softly

"You do not have to tell we if you would rather not." she continued, accepting my silence and demanding nothing of me.

This decided me and I turned slowly bringing each of her hands to my lips and kissing them.

Settling her on my bench I began my story

"I was born in Provence..."

I told her of my home and how I had grown up viewed as a freak by me own mother and ignored by my father. I told her how once I was old enough to, I ran away from home only to be picked up by a travelling fair and forced into a cage and labelled 'the Devil's Child' by my 'owner'. And then, how one day the show stopped in Paris, where I was seen by a ballet dancer – Madame Giry. I told Christine how she had slipped into the tent holding my cage and broke me free from my prison with the stolen key that she had taken from my drunk 'keeper', to then take me to the Opera and hide me below the cellars.

I skimmed quickly through the rest of my tale telling her of my time in the Opera House and posing as the Opera Ghost.

As I spoke of my life I watched her face for any signs of disgust or pity but found neither. I watched as anger passed across her face bringing fire to her lovely eyes as she listened to my mothers treatment of me and how this fire turned to a furnace when I spoke of the fair and being caged.

She rose swiftly from the bench and wrapped her arms around me.

"You were only a child Erik." she mumbled into my chest as she shook her head sadly.

"How could they have treated you in such a way, you were only a child." she whispered again, pulling away from me and placing her hand on my uncovered cheek and tracing my features with her soft fingers.

"I will thank Madame Giry until my dyeing day for being there when you needed someone." her voice caught and I watched amazed as a a single tear fell down her cheek – she was crying for me.

I pulled her into my arms and held her close.

Leaning in close to her ear I nuzzled the side of her face, loving the clean, spring smell of her.

"So will I my love." I whispered softly "For it led me to you."

I took her back up to the highest of the basements and watched her as she walked away turning around and smiling before she turned a corner.

I do not know what I have done in my life to deserve her but I will do nothing to loose her.

Now there is only one question that I dread and that will be the day she asks me to remove my mask...

Two week after this I finally plucked up the courage to ask her to marry me.

I spent hours trying to think of what to say to her from plain and simple to complex speeches of devotion, I feared her rejection but no matter what her answer I knew that I would always be there for her.

I decided to ask her at the beginning of one of her lessons and I got restless waiting for her so I made my way through the tunnels and passages to the Opera and went to the dormitories staying in the passages behind the walls as sound clearly travels through the vents. If Christine was there I would know it.

"Christine you should be my wife." came a very arrogant voice form behind the wall.

What!

That boy was wanting to steal her from me.

I listened, my anger growing as he began to spin of a mental list.

"You will be well cared for, you will have the best. You are beautiful so you will fit in..."

I continued to listen as his list grew longer.

Not once did he say that he loved her.

Finally his list ended and I heard Christine's soft voice for the first time.

"Raoul, I am an opera singer, a dancer. You are a member of society an aristocrat and I do not think that your parents will approve of me." I new that what she was telling him was true but the anger still rose in me at the thought of Christine thinking that she is inferior to anyone else.

There was some more mumbling before all sound died down and I suddenly realized that Christine would be on her way to the lake for her lesson.

I raced through the passage and made it to our meeting point seconds before she arrived.

We fell into the pattern that we had established easily though my mind was racing.

I would propose to her after the lesson.

But how.

Once the lesson had ended I fussed with the music that we had been using, tidying it again and again as I tried to order my thoughts. Then her voice interrupted me as her hands came to rest on mine stopping my movements.

I led her to my bench as I had done only a few weeks before and crouched in front of her.

I started several times losing the words till I finally managed to tell her how I felt about her (after hearing that boy, I needed to let her know how much I loved her, no matter what) and ask her my question. All of my rehearsals went to waste as my proposal slipped from my lips.

I just saw a beautiful smile spread across her face before she threw herself into my arms knocking me to the ground as she kissed me. Her lips landing all over my face and my mask.

"Yes, yes, yes." she whispered to me in between planting kisses on my face.

I laughed as happiness coursed through my veins and I cupped her face gently in my hand and touched her lips to mine.

This happened three months ago and they have been the happiest months of my life. I see Christine ever day for her lesson and I then take her back as far as I can were we say goodbye.

Next month it is the New Years Eve masquerade ball and I have thought that though she did not enjoy last years ball she may like to go with me.

After all it is a masked ball...

**So what do you think?**

**Took the idea of Provence from a 40s film version and the 'devil's child' from the musical.**

**The Masquerade will be next.**

**Hopefully I will be able to fit in some more of the songs along the way I am just trying to find a bit were they won't stick out. I really want to have them sing 'All I Ask of You' – so if you are missing the musical numbers don't panic I'm working on it. :-)**

**Hope you like.**

**(thank you SO much for the reviews I am loving getting them)**

**Hi, for anyone who read the last chapter before I fixed the spelling and grammar (hopefully all of it but I doubt it somehow) I would like to apologise for the mistakes in this and any future chapters it is really annoying me so it may be driving some of you nuts to see some blatant mistakes. Anyway I think that the problems are happening when I am saving my files. Whole words are being missed out as well as letters being replaced (technology is just wonderful isn't it). I'll be sure to check just before I post chapters but if I miss anything sorry, sorry, sorry. Cheers.**


	21. Chapter 21

**I don't own the story or the character (I will not cry, I will not cry...)**

Christine

I am in the chapel right now writing by the light of some candles.

I needed some piece, and to be left alone. Meg and Madame Giry are the only ones who know that I come here so I should be safe for a while yet.

Tonight was the masquerade and I have never enjoyed myself more. Tonight was so different from last year, when I felt out of place and clumsy but this year, this year I had Erik with me.

Last week after one of my lesson he gave me a package his eyes were alight as I took it from him and turned it in my hands, wondering just what it was.

The shape gave no clue as it was a box. Anything could be in a box.

Giving up I lifted the lid and gaped in wonder at a beautifully delicate ornate mask that lay within the box.

What did this mean?

I touched the mask reverently. It was the type that only covers the top half of your face leaving your nose and mouth free. It was perched atop a strong bit of wire curled at the bottom. It glittered and sparkled in the candlelight, a beautiful pale pink.

I raised my head from the mask and looked at Erik who was standing smiling, no doubt finding my reaction very amusing.

"Will you attend the masquerade with me Christine?"

Of course I would.

So it was settled.

I was so excited, bouncing around all week. Even Carlotta noticed my behaviour labelling me a toad the way I was hopping about – but I did not care. I was going to the masquerade and Erik was coming with me.

Both Meg and I raided the closets looking for dresses to wear Meg had no idea what she wanted to wear while I wanted something to go along with the mask that Erik had given me which was hidden safely under my bed.

After hours of searching I finally found the dress.

It was just a shade or two darker than the pale pink of my mask and had a slight bodice to it, small enough to fit my waist without needing any alterations made.

I stood in front of Madame Giry's mirror tonight twirling in my prize.

The fabric flowed about me as I walked and spun, long white gloves covered my arms up to my elbows and I held the mask up to my face. I hoped that Erik would be proud of being seen with me as I knew that I would be with him.

I smiled at my reflection before lowering my mask and fingering my ring still hanging from a chain around my neck.

My gown was lower than my normal dresses and I realized that everyone would be able to see it, but I could not bring myself to take it of. So I left the room hoping that everyone would be to merry to notice.

I made my way quickly threw the empty corridors my foot steps echoing as I moved as swiftly as I could, heading towards the 'ballroom'. I had no idea where or when I was meeting Erik. He had only given me a kiss on the cheek and told me he would see me soon when he brought me back from my lesson.

My mind spun as I tried to think of possibilities.

How was he going to get in anyway?

I stopped thinking when an arm shot out from a darkened door and wrapped around my waist, spinning me into the darkness.

I panicked not knowing who had hold of me, until the figure brought me up close to his body and kissed my forehead.

Erik.

"Good evening my little angel." he whispered, placing a kiss on each of my cheeks and raising his head.

"I was puzzling over how you were going to get in." I mumbled standing on my toes and kissing his lips gently.

"I should have known you would have no problem."

He laughed at this and held me tighter before releasing me and stepping into the bright corridor.

He looked so handsome in his costume. All I could do was stare at him speechless.

His usual black outfit of dress jacket and trousers had been replaced with a scarlet costume his strong build clear for all to see.

It was not until I looked at his mask that I realised who he was.

Red Death.

The mask covered all of his face only leaving his lips and chin uncovered – explaining how I had been able to kiss him in the darkness.

"You look very handsome." I mumbled, feeling like an idiot at my simple statement – despite it being the truth.

He smiled and gestured for me to come out of the alcove.

I stepped into the light and Erik inhaled sharply. I slowly spun in front of him.

"You are beautiful." he told me softly taking one of my hands and kissing it softly.

I glowed at his praise as he drew my arm through his and we continued towards the noise.

The hall and staircase were glowing with the number of candles that were lit, where everything seemed so sinister and uncomfortable last year now everything was magical and beautiful as I walked in on Erik's arm.

The orchestra was playing a lively dance as couples spun almost violently around the floor, whirling so fast just watching them made me feel dizzy.

I spotted Meg from a distance and gave her a smile as she stared with wide eyed amazement in my direction, no doubt taking in our linked arms. I gave her a small wave before Erik pulled me towards Madame Giry.

I was slightly nervous, despite knowing of Madame Giry's involvement with Erik and her no doubt being aware of our relationship I had never actually approached her about it. And so at that moment I feeling probably not that much different to those who are being led to their own execution.

"Erik are you sure about this?" I whispered frantically to him as I grasped at his arm, trying to get him to change his mind and turn around.

"Don't panic my love, it will be fine." he whispered back, patting by hand reassuringly.

I kept my eyes firmly fixed on the floor as we approached Madame Giry only raising my head once we came to a stop right in front of my adoptive mother.

I looked at her face, nothing but shock.

"Christine what in earth, who on earth..." she stumbled over her words throwing glances in turn at me and Erik.

This was not good.

Erik finally decided to do something and cleared his throat, a smile playing on his lips as he pulled me closer into his side.

I thought the Ballet Mistress was going to faint from lack of air as she sucked her breath in sharply and rapidly released it without actually taking in another, instead she just stood her face becoming redder.

I had had enough but being at a loss for words I thought I would let Erik explain to the good woman just what was going on, so I elbowed him hard in the ribs.

He drew in a sharp breath and looked down at me his gaze telling me that he felt betrayed, I just smiled innocently back at him.

After all two could play at his game.

**Hey, so here's chapter 21 (wow chapter 21!). I have had it almost done for forever but I didn't want to ruin it by rushing it.**

**It is a bit shorter than I intended but I think it is better like this than the way I had it before.**

**I am planning on having Erik's thoughts next possibly picking up from where Christine left of or just before.**

**I am trying to get across a playful side to their relationship, that is why I have added little bits like Christine elbowing him and Erik spinning her into the corridor. Please let me know if I am succeeding with that.**

**Hope you enjoy and please, please, please let me know what you think.**


	22. Chapter 22

**Don't own anything**

Erik

Entry 11

Tonight was the masked ball and tonight I danced with Christine before the entire Opera company. Finally acting the suitor and courting her openly, even if it was just for one night.

I asked her after one of our lessons together last week if she would allow me to escort her to the ball and I even managed to find her a mask after days of searching for the perfect gift for her.

I had to raid the lower basements for a costume as I did not want to enlist the aid of Madame Giry – the woman never has approved of showing myself above the basements. Though the ballet girls and chorus members enjoy raking through the old boxes and trunks from previous production none dare travel any lower then the first basement so I wandered about free from the fear of being seen.

I searched carefully through the dusty rooms and tightly closed packages. I wanted something perfect and that would fit me. Something that would make Christine proud to be seen with me.

The old trunks were full of costumes used form decades of productions. The costumes ranged from extravagant wardrobe creations from when the company was doing well, the rich material having been carefully packed away and preserved while some others were made of coarse, rough fabric obviously left over from when the Opera was not so productive.

I find it amazing that the wealth of the Opera's history lies in the depths of the basements, long forgotten.

I finally found a costume that fit perfectly.

The Red Death.

It was packed away in a trunk labelled _The Mask of the Red Death 1865. _

The trunk was filled with a variety of other costumes from butterflies to milkmaids to knights but the Red Death had a mask, which would be invaluable for the masquerade.

We had our lesson the same as usual this evening and I was careful to keep my chosen costume hidden safely away from the curious gaze of my Christine wanting to surprise her.

I dressed with care tonight, pulling the dust sheet from the full length mirror next to my organ and inspecting my handiwork, feeling more than pleased with the results of my labour. I switched masks finding that the skull like dress mask fit against my face comfortably with no gaps and my mouth was left free.

The scarlet coloured costume was a great change from my usual clothing but I knew that at the masquerade I would just be another guest who was dressed to suite himself so I did not worry to much about standing out from the crowd, as I would should I walk down the street in my white mask.

I made my way to the Opera House slowly trying to paint a picture of Christine in my mind, trying to guess what she could be wearing. I came out of my thoughts as I drew nearer the occupied section of the Opera. The light stabbed my head as my eyes adjusted to the candle lit corridors, no longer needing the sharpness that was required in the passages. There was a buzz to the corridors as ballet girls and chorus members darted past me more than once. It was a relief that though I managed to hide myself in plenty of time, if I would have been seen, it would have been assumed that I was just another party goer.

It was when I was in one of the many alcoves, after ducking from the sight of a gaggle of excited dancers that I heard familiar footsteps echoing throughout the now silent corridor – Christine.

I peered carefully round the corner and I felt a familiar smile come to my lips, the same smile that tugs at me whenever I see or think of Christine.

It had only been a few hours since I had seen her but the hole in my heart that always begins to grow when we part ways at the end of each lesson was quickly mending at the thought of her coming towards me

When she was just about to walk past I reached for her and spun her into my hiding place, putting myself between her and the hall that she had come from, loving the feel of her so close to me, in my arms.

"Good evening my little angel." I whispered to her softly as I leaned towards her and placed a kiss on her forehead and her cheeks feeling her soft skin crease slightly under my lips as she smiled slowly. I raised my head to see her eyes dancing with happiness and love. Reflecting the feelings that were no doubt clear to see in my own.

"I was puzzling over how you were going to get in." she told me softly standing in her toes and placing a soft kiss on my lips. My heart thumped wildly in my chest at the easy way in which she showed me her feelings. Never had I dreamed that anyone would be at ease in my company. Never until Christine.

I laughed as the joy of my new found happiness washed over me and I held her tightly to me before releasing her and stepping out onto the bright corridor.

Christine did not follow me but stood still within the alcove my sharp eyes registering her unwavering gaze that was focused on me.

"You look very handsome." she mumbled.

Handsome?

Me.

I wanted to cry to the heavens my thanks for bringing this girl into my life. This girl who by some miracle loved me despite everything.

But I smiled instead and held out my hand to her for her to join me in the corridor.

I stepped back as she emerged from the shadows and my breath caught in my throat.

She was beautiful.

The mask that I had given her was a pale pink colour that glittered in the candlelight as she held it to her face and turned slowly before me.

The first think that I saw was her engagement ring hanging securely from a delicate chain around her neck. Her gown fit her to perfection and was a little darker than the mask. The fine material flowed from her waist to touch the floor swaying gently about her as she came to a stop.

"You are beautiful." I told her softly, finally finding my voice.

I took her small hand in mine and raised it to my lips kissing it softly before hooking her arm through mine and heading towards the Masquerade.

The nearer we got to the dancing and music the lighter the corridor got before me finally emerged.

The entrance hall and the grand staircase were alight with candles, every candelabra filled and standing tall against the walls.

I looked down at Christine to see a contented smile on her face and I in turn was content in the knowledge that my presence beside her had out her at ease. Unlike last year when she has attended alone.

I saw her friend Meg look towards us, her eyes were wide and her expression shocked. No doubt wondering about the man who's arm was linked with her bast friends.

I glanced about the busy room trying to find the ballet mistress.

Once I had found her I guided Christine forward and felt her grip on my arm tighten as I led her towards her foster mother.

"Erik are you sure about this?" she whispered quickly to me, her grip tightening even more.

I knew she was nervous of being seen with me by Madame Giry as though the woman knew through me that our lesson had resumed after she had given we a good piece of her mind, she did not know of our engagement.

"Don't panic my love, it will be fine." I whispered to her trying to calm her down. She fixed her gaze firmly on the floor only looking up once I had stopped us in front of the ballet mistress who's gaze was jerking between the two of us, her face showing nothing but shock.

"Christine what on earth, who on earth..." she choked out her eyes darting from Christine to myself.

I could not help but smile as I drew Christine closer to me, tucking her into my side. I watched as the woman hissed as she drew in a sharp breath her eyes now resting on where my hand was on Christine's slim waist.

Christine who had obviously had enough of my game gave me a quick dig in my ribs with her elbow. I drew in a breath feigning injury only to have the little minx give me the most innocent look I have ever seen on anything other than a painting of a cherub.

I rolled my eyes and decided to take pity on the woman who's face was becoming redder by the second.

"Madame Giry." I bowed slightly at the waist still not relinquishing my hold on Christine.

She calmed immediately, recognising my voice.

"Erik..." she gasped, trailing of.

I looked sown at Christine who nodded and gave me a small nervous smile playing with the ring about her neck.

I held her tighter to me.

"We would like you to be the first to know of our engagement."

**hi, i am so sorry if this is a bit of a let down, i re-wrote this so many times i've lost count. i don't know what it was but i just couldn't get into the flow.**

**please let me know what you think**

**wee note - The Mask of the Red Death is a short story by Edgar Alllan Poe that was published in 1842 (just incase you were interested :-))**


	23. Chapter 23

**I don't own anything.**

Christine

I had to stop writing last night when Erik came for me in the chapel now I am writing in the dormitories as everyone else is at lunch.

If there has ever been a moment in my life where I wished for the ground to open up and swallow me it was as I stood before a gaping Madame Giry last night in the arms of my fiancé playing nervously with the ring about my neck.

Erik had just told the woman that of our engagement and the only thing that I can possibly compare her expression to is a fish when you take it from water.

She moved her mouth several time as though to begin speaking but no sound came out. And then in the time it took me to blink I was no longer in Erik's arms but being hugged tightly by the ballet mistress.

She pulled away from me and held me firmly my the shoulders a broad smile spread across her face as she glanced between Erik and myself.

I wondered just for a moment as I stood there just where the serious, stern woman that I had known all my life had gone. Never before have I seen Madame Giry show such happiness openly and I am sure that I saw a watery glint in her eye as she released me from her hold and I stepped back into Erik's arms.

"This pleases you Madame?" I asked her nervously, needing her to tell me just how she felt. I did not want her to feel hurt.

"My dear..." she moved forward and clasped my hand between her own."I am very happy for you both. Yes I am pleased."

I smiled now for the first time since Erik's announcement feeling as though a great weight had been lifted from me and Erik pressed a fleeting kiss to my forehead.

"I told you all would be well love." he whispered to me, squeezing my waist as I burrowed closer into his side and leaned my head against his shoulder.

"Don't be so sure of that Erik." Madame Giry's stern voice was back while her happy expression was now replaced with slight annoyance. But my smile staid where it was after all I had been dealing with _this_ Madame Giry all my life.

"I will be talking with you later." she added giving Erik a pointed look before she walked if into the crowd, her stiff, straight figure walking purposefully through the buzzing crowd until she vanished.

I held in the urge to laugh but could not stop my smile from growing wider at the sudden disappearance and reappearance of the old Madame Giry.

I turned in Erik's one armed embrace and wrested my hands against his chest, playing with the red velvet of his costume as I looked up at him.

"Next time you wish to frighten me to death could you please give me a little more warning." I mumbled looking into his laughing, dark eyes. My heart swelled in my chest to see him so carefree and happy.

My heart thundered in my chest as he gave me what Meg would call a roguish smile as he wrapped his arms about me and lowered his head until his masked forehead was wresting against my own plain one.

"I think I could manage that." he whispered to me, pressing a kiss to my cheek and spinning me into the dancers.

I laughed joyfully as I danced in Erik's arms surrounded by the whole company. I was aware of the figures of the other dancers whirling past us and the orchestra playing but I can not for the life of me now recall what we were dancing or who was surrounding us. I was in my own little bubble with no one there but Erik and myself.

**Hey guys hope you like this.**

**My exams start next week so this will be my last update for about three weeks. i will update as soon as i can though. I know this is a wee bit short but i didn't want to leave you all hanging.**

**Thanks for the reviews :-) and feedback on this would be great. **


	24. Chapter 24

**I do not own lyrics or characters.**

Christine 

It has been two weeks since the masquerade and rehearsals are under way for a new production - Erik's opera.

Don Juan Triumphant.

After the Masquerade Madame Giry dragged him of to her rooms, while I made my way back to the dormitories in a haze of contentment and happiness. I carefully got out of my dress and changed into one of my usual gowns, despite the late hour I thought it better than changing into my night things encase Madame Giry wished to speak to me also.

So as not to wake the younger girls by moving about I made my way to the chapel, which was were I was writing that night. I looked up from my task as soon as I heard footsteps coming down the stairs and hid this book under the extra shawl that I had brought with me.

It was Erik who approached me, his scarlet coloured jacket hung over his arm and his skull like mask still fixed firmly to his face. He was smiling broadly as he placed his jacket on the window seat and came up to me wrapping his strong arms about me.

Immediately I was content and safe.

I sighed in happiness, wresting my head against his chest and wrapping my own arms around his waist breathing in deeply loving the smell of him. I will never tire of being able to touch my angel after all the years of only hearing his voice.

"How did things go with Madame Giry?" I asked drawing away from him slightly to look into his face.

"She was annoyed with me for keeping our engagement secret for so long..."

I felt horrible and shook my head, moaning in embarrassment, guilt consuming me.

"Erik I did not want to hurt her feelings." I told him my voice shaking with dread at the thought that maybe after all I had upset the woman who had been a mother to me.

He laughed and held me tighter to him and I had a feeling that the smile was spreading even further across his face. My heart skipped a beat as I felt the rumble of his laughter go through my entire frame.

"Her feelings were not hurt sweetheart." he crooned in my ear and the guilt slowly lifted from me as I found reassurance in his words.

"She was angry with me love, not you. She felt that I should have kept her informed of our relationship even if no one else was to be told." he explained softly, kissing my forehead and releasing me from his hold completely.

I could understand how Madame Giry must have felt. After all we had been engaged for some months and never told her, though she, along with the rest of the company had noted my happiness over those months.

Erik took my hands gently in his and led me to the window seat and shifting his jacket he sat next to me reclaiming my hands in his own. He then began to tell me about his opera Don Juan Triumphant.

He told be that he has been working on it for years and now finally complete it had been accepted by the managers to be performed – though they did not know his true identity. I was so proud of him and his accomplishments. His opera had been accepted. My Erik's opera was going to be performed before all Paris. I threw my arms about him, hugging him tightly, pride filling my whole body.

Erik escorted me back to the dormitories that night the corridors silent as the party had been over for some hours. We stopped at the door and I slipped in through the door after being thoroughly kissed goodnight.

The next day when I met Erik for my lesson he had a secretive smile on his face and his eyes danced with some sort of mischief.

"We will postpone today's lesson love." he told me leading me down a passage that I had never noticed before.

"Erik where are we going?" I laughed as he caught me for the third time as I tripped over some unfamiliar obstacle beneath my feet. The adorable boyish expression was still firmly fixed on his face as he placed a kiss on my nose and continued to lead me by the hand.

The corridor soon gave way to a large room and I looked above us to see that metal grates served as a ceiling.

"The stage is above us. They are practising the new Opera." Erik whispered releasing my hands his voice was filled with pride. He walked behind me and light filled the dim room as he lit some candles.

I was amazed as I began to hear the music clearly drifting from the orchestra pit several stories above our heads. It is amazing that so much can exist beneath the Opera House and in the walls with out anyone's knowledge.

Erik came up behind his arms wrapping about my waist and I leaned against his chest listening as the musicians tuned their instruments awaiting Monsieur Reyer's direction. Silence came from above us and then all the chaotic sounds of the tuning instrument came together harmoniously as they began to play Erik's music.

I realized then that I had heard him play some of his opera on his organ and had been spell bound never realising that it was his own music that I was listening to, but I was left breathless as I listened to the full orchestra play his creation. The violent yet seductive melody filed my mind as the orchestra rehearsed.

I felt Erik begin to sway behind me and I followed gasping as he spun me around to face him my skirts billowing about me and hitting against our legs. I braced myself by placing my hands on his chest. He took one of my hands in his and placed his other about my waist and we became part of the music that filtered to us from above.

I started to find it difficult to breath as my thoughts stopped, only focusing on the man who's arms I was in. He held me close to him as he spun us about his hold on me never faltering. I could feel his heart beating against my own chest we were so close together, his hands seemed to burn my skin as he held me.

My heart leapt when he kissed my neck below my ear and began to sing softly to me his voice low and dangerous my eyes fluttered shut involuntarily as I lost myself in his voice not unlike that first night when he sang to me . Even now I can feel the shivers down my spine.

"_Past the point of no return, no backward glances..."_

His voice flowed over me as we continued to move about the confines of the basement, the music surrounding us, wrapping us both in a world completely separate from the life above us.

"_...abandon thought and let the dream descend..."_

I was enthralled as I listened to the music and words that the man I love had created. I reluctantly opened my eyes and watched him as he sang, his eyes glowing, and I found myself thinking once again how handsome he is.

"_Beyond the point of no return..."_

The music above us began to ebb as Erik stopped singing, the music started again, higher this time and Erik spun me out and then back into his arms. I breathed heavily my mind foggy as I looked into his eyes my heart beating franticly in my chest.

He leaned down and placed a kiss on my lips. I moved my hands from where they had been on his chest and shoulder and wrapped then around his neck my stomach flipping as he held me even closer than when we had been dancing.

I felt one of his hands glide up my spine from my waist to tangle in my hair. After what seemed like a life time he drew away from me and smiled gently at me as I caught my breath. Staring contentedly into his eyes i felt truly at home in his strong embrace.

It took me a few seconds to surface from the haze that I had entered and I noticed that the music was still playing above us.

"And that, sweetheart." he whispered softly "Is where you come in."

**Hey guys have you missed me? (you don't need to answer that :-))**

**I have a two week wait until my next exam (ooo goody!) and i am short circuiting my brain with all the revision that I am doing – honestly you can see smoke coming out my ears and everything :-). So you are getting this chapter a wee bitty earlier than planned as I took some time off my studying. **

**Hope you like this. I don't write sexy very well so for the dance imagine the tango or something like that – a bit like what the background dancers were doing in the film.**

**I think all the spelling and stuff is OK but if not sorry. **

**The next chapter will be Erik's point of view.**

**Let me know what you think :-).**


	25. Chapter 25

**I do not own the song lyrics or the characters.**

Erik

Entry 12

Ever since I revealed myself to Christine my view of heaven is constantly changing.

I first thought heaven to be that moment when she first took my hand without hesitation the night in her dressing room. I then thought it was when I held her to me as I sang at my home and she caressed my face with her soft fingers. Then I was positive it was when she threw herself into my arms that night when I followed her to the roof top and found her dancing beneath the stars, the rose that I had given her gripped tightly to her. Or maybe it was when she accepted me so readily when I told her my story.

The night of the Masquerade I would have said it was when I danced with her the whole night before the entire company with her gaze locked to mind, her happiness and contentment mirroring my own joy.

But now, now I believe that heaven was when I was standing below the grates of the orchestra pit with Christine in my arms as we danced to the music of my opera playing above our heads.

At the masquerade Christine and myself danced through the night and I felt as though I was the most fortunate man on earth. I was dancing with the woman I love and she had eyes for no one but me. I am not being prideful when I say this for her happy, smiling eyes did not stray from me for long. I did at one time spot the Vicomte who stood in one of the corners, as he angrily tipped a glass of amber liquid into his mouth. I watched him wince as the fiery liquid slid down his throat and his furious gaze never wavered from Christine until it suddenly darted to me. I felt the anger rise in me at the unspoken threat that he gave and I pulled her closer into my body, spinning her about the floor. I saw the boy's scowl remain firmly in place though his face turned as white as my mask and I knew that he must have seen the furnace burning in my gaze.

I was so deep in thought that I did not feel Christine's gentle touch on my skull mask until she spoke to me.

"Love, are you all right?" her soft questioning voice broke through my thoughts as I continued to manoeuvre us around the floor and other dancers.

I felt that familiar quickening of my heart at her address and held her even closer, despite knowing the impropriety of my actions, and placed a quick kiss on her forehead, putting the Vicomte out of my mind I smiled and told her all was well.

After Christine and I had danced for long enough – according to the unwavering judgement of Madame Giry – the ballet mistress had sent Christine back to the dormitories and ordered me to follow her to her rooms. In order not to cause a scene I agreed planting a quick kiss on Christine's lips before I was dragged of by the offended lady.

I soon found myself standing before a seething Madame Giry and I resisted the urge to cower like a small boy in the face of her fury. I had done nothing wrong so I stood silent and straight waiting for her to begin. And am I not a grown man.

"How long have you been engaged to Christine, Erik?" her voice was sharp and strained, telling me that she was trying her best not to raise her voice but she was loosing the battle.

So that was what she was wanting me to be here for.

I took in a deep breath knowing that she would not be happy with my reply but thinking it better for her to hear from me than from Christine - who I had no doubt would begin to feel guilty about keeping the secret for so long from her foster mother.

"Nearly four months, Madame." I told her matter of factly.

And it was then that the dame broke and all pretences of holding back her temper fled.

"Four months. Did you not think that I was entitled to know of this change in events Erik. I am her guardian. I appreciate that you may not have wanted it being public knowledge but I had a right to know. She has not even known you long enough to form any opinion on you as to if she wants to marry you or not. I know that she did not like it when you staid away from her and I know that I wanted you to make thing better but I did not want you proposing marriage."

At this point I could no longer stay quiet. She was standing before me telling me that Christine did not know her own mind, when I knew different. I see the love shining from her eyes when our eyes meet and the way the tension flows from her body when she wraps her arms around me and I would not have the woman before me throwing any doubt upon our feelings. Not after I had just became a solid aspect of her life.

"Madame, Christine has known me since she first came here. It has always been me. I do not act any differently now than I did when I was her Angel." I tried to keep in control of my voice not wanting to make things any more strained than they were, though I could not stop the slight rise in volume as I finished speaking.

"She is a child, she should be allowed to meet other men before marrying you." she shouted pointing a shaking finger at me her face a mask of fury.

"She accepted me the very night she refused someone else." I snarled, fed up with the woman's verbal attack and also wanting her to be aware of that boy's 'proposal'.

Looking back now I see that she was acting out of motherly concern for Christine, who she looks on as a daughter. But at the time, with the anger growing within me I was not think of her motives - no matter how pure they were.

"Who?" she asked suddenly all the bluster gone from her outburst, her face registering shock and paling slightly.

"The Vicomte." I replied shortly not wanting to waste any more time on him than I had to, but feeling the need to tell her just what I had heard.

"I had came looking for her before one of her lessons and I was standing behind the wall of the dormitories. I overheard him. He made the whole thing sound like a business arrangement. Wanting nothing but a trophy wife. A pretty face to put on display before all of Paris." I spat the words, still feeling the anger and disgust that I had felt that night as he had offered marriage in the most insulting way imaginable to my Christine.

The woman before me quickly regained her composure, pulling herself together with almost unnerving speed though I could tell form her eyes that she was reconsidering her opinion.

"Still..."

Or not.

And so we continued arguing this way for sometime but I would not be discouraged. I did not and do not doubt Christine's feelings for me. Maybe at sometime I did. But no longer - nothing will ever make me question what I feel for her, or she for me.

Madame Giry continued to throw her personal comments and opinions at me. If my feelings for Christine where not as strong as they are I would have easily gone along with her ideas and allowed the doubt to eat away at me – but no. So I stood and allowed her to continue until she brought up the one thing she should have known to leave well enough alone.

"And what of your face Erik?" she spat at me, taking up pacing her small room while I continued to stand still. I tensed at her words.

How dare she. She had no right.

She must have seen the stricken, stiff look on my face for she stopped pacing and stood in front of me, her eyes alight with the new found avenue of thought.

"Does she know?" she asked slowly and I remained silent, staring at a point on the wall behind her. I think it was a picture of her husband.

"She has not seen you has she?" her voice was quiet now and I could feel her eyes burning through my mask to see the deformity underneath.

"If this is all you wish to discuss with me Madame I think that we are done here." I told her, my throat tight as I tried not to raise my voice.

"Your face Erik. Has Christine seen it?" she pursued her line of questioning, grabbing hold of my arm as I turned to leave. I tried to shake her of but to no avail.

I stood silent and thought about my reply.

Christine has never seen my face or shown any interest in seeing it. I remembered how she had reacted to my silence when she asked about my living under the Opera. She had wrapped her arms around me and apologised for her curiosity accepting my silence. She had done the same in respects to my mask also.

She will caress my face with her fingers and even run them over the fine leather of my mask – up to my hairline and down by my ear to my chin and then up by lips, nose and eyes, but she has never once made a move to take it from my face and I love the feel of the leather as the slight pressure of her fingers presses it to my face. Almost as though the leather is part of my face. She accepts the mask as a part of me. Never avoiding it or turning away.

These thoughts spun through my mind and I found myself looking at an astonished Madame Giry as I felt a smile of understanding, wonder and joy come to my lips.

I remembered what her reaction had been to my costume. I had noticed her sharp intake of breath and blush. She thought me handsome.

I took in a deep calming breath as all the anger that had caused me to turn and leave flowed out of me. At a time like that Christine would have just had to have wrapped her arms around me and I would have been calm in a instant, but she was not there, so I did the next best thing.

"No Madame. Christine has not seen my face." I told her calmly and firmly. I was going to put a stop to her rambling and doubts.

"And neither has she shown an interest in seeing it." the confidence in what I was saying made my voice firmer as I looked her in the eyes.

"Christine loves me and I love her. That is all you need to know." I finished and allowed my words to sink in. She was still staring at me as though I had sprouted another head.

"So if that is all Madame..."

I once again turned to leave wanting out of the room as quickly as possible. To find Christine and hold her in my arms again, though I had been dancing with her all night, I now needed to feel her arms around me.

I reached out for the door handle before being stopped once again.

"Erik wait."

I turned back to face her and sighed heavily, having had enough of the woman's interrogations for one night.

"You will look after her?" she asked me quietly her voice no longer sharp with questions and accusations.

I nodded my head seriously.

"Until the day I die."

"You will never raise a hand to her or make her regret hiving her heart to you?"

"Never."

She shook her head slowly and sadly and I did not know what to make of her sudden change in attitude.

"It would appear that I can do little to change your mind and I know how stubborn Christine is..." she trailed of as she turned from me and walked to her desk.

"I gave the managers your Opera Erik" her voice was so low I had to take a step forward to hear her.

My Opera.

Don Juan Triumphant.

I had worked on it for years, working tirelessly during the time when I staid away from Christine and had finally finished it a few week before, leaving it to Madame Giry to give to the managers.

Madame Giry lifted a booklet from her table and held it out to me.

It was a programme. A programme for my opera.

I looked at her in shock.

"Congratulations Erik."

What happened next is all a blur. I raced from the room after thanking her like an excited child. I ran through the empty corridors until I came to the dormitories. All was silent and in darkness so I made my way to the chapel, hoping against hope that Christine would be there.

I walked down the stairs, taking off the tight confining jacket that I wore just before I entered the room.

I could not hide the smile on my face as I placed the jacket on the window seat and wrapped my arms around a waiting Christine. I did not know how to begin so I remained silent until Christine broke the silence, asking me of Madame Giry.

In my rush to tell her my news I had forgotten all about the earlier argument that myself and the ballet mistress had had. So I condensed it somewhat - telling her that she had been annoyed by the secrecy.

I knew that she would feel guilty and embarrassed and I was not wrong. I hugged her to me and whispered reassurance in her ear before taking her to the window seat and telling her of my opera and the performance.

I could see the pride in her eyes when I told her that it had been accepted to be performed and she soon flung her arms around me, holding me tightly and telling me of how proud she was.

I escorted her back to the dormitories holding her close and kissing her, putting everything I feel for her into that one kiss.

The next day I soon discovered they were beginning rehearsals for Don Juan, so when Christine came for her lesson I decided to take her to the same spot where I had listened to her as she sung for the first time.

I was so happy as I took her hand in mine and led her down one of the passages that she has never been in before. I laughed as I kept catching her when her foot caught on some obstacle or other.

We soon came into the round shaped cavity, the iron grates above our heads shedding some light but not a lot.

I saw her look up at the ceiling and explained to her where we where and why.

I lit some candles quickly and returned to Christine who was standing in the middle of the 'room'. I wrapped my arms around her from behind and rested my head on top of hers as she relaxed against my chest.

I could hear the orchestra tuning their various instruments and felt the excitement race through my blood stream when they stopped.

And then my music began.

The music that I had heard played my the entire orchestra only in my mind was now being played in reality and soon all Paris would hear it.

I began to sway to the music, taking Christine with me as I took one of her hands and spun her around to face me. My music was seductive and dark I was aware, but also full of my feelings for the woman in my arms, the woman who I had never dreamed would accept me. I felt her wobble slightly as her skirts tangled around her legs and her small hands shot up to my chest as she tried to keep her balance. I took one of her hands in mine and placed my other arm around her small waist, holding her far closer than propriety had allowed last night as I swayed and dipped her to the music.

I felt her breath hitch and her heart flutter against my own chest, and I revelled in the effect that I had in her and glad that it was the same as she had on me.

I leaned my head down and kissed the rapidly beating pulse at her neck (I knew that I should feel ashamed but I could nor bring myself to release her) and I hummed low in her ear before singing the words to the music – my music – playing above us.

"_the games we've played till now are at an end..."_

I remembered when I re-wrote those lines. The very same night that she had lain asleep in my home after I had revealed myself to her. No longer her Angel but a man.

"_What raging fire shall flood the soul?"_

My feelings when I had held her to me that first time when I showed her my home and she did not run from me.

"_What warm, unspoken secrets will we learn..."_

When my heart was singing as I laid her down to sleep.

Every word, every note, every chord where my feelings and love for her.

I continued to dance with her slowly until I stopped singing. I spun Christine out and then back into my arms holding her close. She was breathing rapidly, her chest rising and falling against my own.

I paid no heed to the music that continued to play above us, all my focus on Christine.

Her breathing came rapidly between her lips and a slight blush covered her cheeks.

She was beautiful.

I leaned in and captured her lips with mine, holding her even closer as her hands slid from my chest to my neck, one of her small hands tangling in my hair as the other one wrapped around my neck holding me to her. I myself could not remain still and against my will one of my hands went from her waist to her own hair. I felt her shiver against me as I traced her spine with my hand.

This was heaven.

She was so small in my arms, her body tiny compared to my own

And yet how would I ever survive if she left me.

I drew away from her slowly, not wanting to but recognising the need for air.

I smiled softly at her as she caught her breath, the happiness that filled me shone back at me through her eyes.

I could hear the higher strains of the music playing above us.

"And that, sweetheart is where you come in." I whispered to her. For she would sing Aminta.

**Hey everyone. I have started and deleted this chapter a stupid amount of times but i think i have cracked it. I had my final exam today (*victory dance*) and i celebrated by writing this when i got home. I was going to have the discussion between M Giry and Erik a little lighter but i thought i would just highlight her motherly responsibilities towards Christine while also allowing Erik to draw some more concrete conclusions (hope you weren't to disappointed about that bit). **

**Feedback would be great.**

**Hope you enjoyed.**

**:-)**


	26. Chapter 26

**Still own nothing :(**

Christine

The rehearsals for my Erik's opera have been under way for about three days now.

I am so proud of his accomplishment.

I am to play the lead Aminta as Carlotta has not yet decided to return to the opera since her voice failed that night on the stage. From the various rumours that have been circulating over the past few weeks it is because of the level of humiliation that she feels she has suffered. Of course the humiliation of which she speaks does not stop her from demanding her salary or from attending the Masquerade – but then who am I to judge.

My lessons over the past few days with Erik have been mainly filled with rehearsing my part for the opera and I have found that singing the seductive words that my part calls for is a lot easier when playing opposite Piangi. All I can do when rehearsing with Erik is stumble over my lines and blush so deeply I am surprised I do not set the sheet music on fire.

And that is just when we sing!

I do not know what came over me that first day when we danced beneath the stage and Erik held me so close. Being held so by him seemed as natural as breathing. But now, when we practise the stage directions I seem to develop two left feet my blushing growing to a constant fever as soon as his hands trail down my arm and he presses close to me.

I can feel myself blush just thinking about it.

Yet it is ridiculous.

I have kissed him and been held close to him before and yet it does not seem the same. The lyrics and music that surrounds us now is filled with such raw emotion it seems to speak of what is happening inside my mind. I blush to think that he may know this and I blush even more to think that the same might be happening with him. And when he holds me close i can barely think.

But I know that he will never take 'advantage' of me – though to me honest I am not entirely sure of what that entails. Madame Giry has always been very protective and careful of both Meg and myself. I know that many of the dancers take lovers from among the stage hands and some from among the young men that frequent the opera and I have caught glimpses of secluded couples in the corridors...

But this is not seemly either to speak of or write of so I shall end it there. All I know is that Erik would never do anything dishonourable especially when I spend so much time alone with him. But then again I am thankful that I am not a usual girl of society for if I was I know that I would be watched and chaperoned wherever I go - never having time to myself or the time with Erik that I treasure.

But then...if I was watched it would prevent such things from happening as what happened yesterday evening.

It was after my lesson with Erik.

I was so happy after spending our time together - despite the constant embarrassment that seems to fill me lately – and I was making my way back to the dormitories a spring in my step and humming the music to myself that we had been practising.

I was in a haze – the same one that fills me after every lesson and I have no doubt at all that I was also walking along the corridors with a silly smile on my face, as I usually do.

I had just passed one of the many closets that fill the walls of the dimly lit corridors when I felt an iron grip close about my waist the fingers digging into my skin and I was swung about and slammed painfully into the stone wall.

I struggled and kicked as soon as I felt my feet leave the ground and a small scream managed to escape my lips before a hand was roughly slapped across my mouth cutting off all sound and all cries for help.

I could hardly breath past the hand that was firmly glued to my lips and I thought my heart was going to fly out of my chest it was beating to hard in panic. I tried to kick out with my legs but all my movements were ended when the body of my assailant pressed me against the wall, his body pressed down the front of my own. I cringed as my shoulder blades dug into the stone wall.

I would have gasped if I was able when Raoul's face came into focus, a stream of light coming from one of the lamps a few feet away casting a clear stream of light across his twisted features.

His eyes were blazing with an anger that I have never seen before and his breath was rich with the smell of wine – by the flush that covered his face I had no doubt that he had drank more than enough for one evening.

Anger, surprise and fright filled me.

Anger at being treated so by him.

Surprise at seeing him in such a rage. After all apart from a distant view of him over the past months I had neither spoken to him or been in close proximity to him since his 'proposal'.

Fright at the pure anger that I saw in his gaze and the unrelenting grip that he had on my body. In size and strength I was no match for him.

"So Christine," he spat at me his expression matching that of a snarling animal more than a human as he bared his teeth at me

"You refuse my offer of marriage to flaunt yourself before the whole of Paris in the arms of some other man."

He shook me forcefully, releasing my mouth and moving hand to my shoulders – gripping hard. I tried to capture my breath.

What was he talking about? Flaunting myself?

As I tried to catch my breath and stop my head from hitting the wall behind me my mind raced with his words. Trying to make some kind of sense out of them.

"Raoul wha-" I began only to be roughly cut of my another violent shake.

"I watched you all night Christine, dancing in the arms of some man." he snarled and I no longer recognised him as the boy who I had grown up with, or even the man who had came to see me in my dressing room my opening night, but as a man to fear.

He had watched me dance with Erik. Did he know who he was? Why was he acting this way? He could not be jealous. Could he?

"You dare refuse me just to fall into the arms of some...some..." he stammered and floundered for words though his grip on my shoulders only seemed to tighten and I could feel his fingers biting into my skin. I fought back a cry of pain but felt by eyes water all the same.

So that was why he was so angry. Not jealousy as such but angry because it was not him that I had chosen. It was the sting of rejection that his pride would not let go.

"I followed you you know." he cried, one of his hands moving from my shoulder to my neck. I froze, not daring to move, not knowing what he was going to do.

"I watched you go to the chapel Christine and I waited and I watched. A very appropriate place to wait for your lover. I saw you fall into his arms and play the whore. Perhaps it was you who should have worn the scarlet."

I blinked at his words, shocked at his language and at just how he had read my behaviour. And for the first time I wondered at the state of his mind. The gleam in his eyes spoke of anything but sanity. I wondered how his mind had twisted our actions into what he thought they were. Into what he thought he had seen.

I went to protest but I could not speak as his hand tightened about my throat. I began to fight him once again. Darkness began to fog my vision as his grip on my throat only intensified and I coughed and wheezed in his grip trying to breath. I could only concentrate on wanting out if his grip.

I heard his angry voice as though he was speaking to me from far away as I fought to remain conscious.

"Did I not offer you enough Christine? Or did you both enjoy laughing at my expense?"

I tried to gather the strength to kick out again but I could not.

And then suddenly his body and his grip was gone.

I slumped to the cold floor coughing violently, reaching a hand to my throat trying to reassure myself that his hand was really gone from my flesh. I drew in deep gulps of air trying to fill my empty lungs as tears began to stream unbidden down my cheeks.

What was wrong with him?

My throat burned as I continued to gasp. I heard laughter and voices drift to me from not to far away and realised what had caused him to release me so suddenly.

I dragged myself from the floor – not wanting to be seen in that state. I steadied myself and stumbled to the dormitories. Everything was silent and empty in the large room, all the beds made and empty.

I glanced into the mirror that hangs from the wall and saw that my eyes were red and swollen and looking further down I saw nasty bruises beginning to form along my neck – one on the shape of a perfect hand print.

I hurried to get changed and went to bed avoiding the other girls being at the front of my mind.

This morning I woke up and my throat was raw. Having drawn the curtains around my bed last night I changed quickly in privacy and reaching for a shawl I tucked it tightly about my shoulders and neck. None of my dresses are as high as my chin unfortunately so I went through the day keeping a tight grip on my shawl trying my best to hide the ugly bruises that had formed during the night.

I raced through the corridors and past doorways not trusting the shadows not to jump out at me. Never before have I feared to be in the corridors of the opera, after all it is my home. But today I jumped at the slightest noise and lighting change.

The day went fine - with no singing required of Piangi or myself due to the dance and chorus rehearsals – until I had to go to Erik for my lesson.

My throat was so sore and sensitive I could hardly speak but he did not seen to notice as he escorted me from the half way point to the lake. we walked in silence the whole way and I felt as if something was missing. Usually I would run to him and throw my arms around him despite the embarassment that I know is coming during my lesson but today I could not. Today I had to hold my shawl in place.

I kept a tight hold on my shawl trying to keep it as high as I could without raising his suspicion. My knuckles must have been white I held it so tightly.

When Erik began to play I knew that I would be unable to keep up the pretence for long and when I croaked out the first line he immediately stopped playing and turned to me. Worry and concern clearly filling his face.

"My love, are you not well?" he asked me gently standing from his seat and approaching me.

I did not know what to say.

I did not want to lie to him and yet I did not want to tell him the truth either.

He came up to me and stood before me. I leaned forward and still keeping hold of my shawl I leaned my head against his chest. His arms wrapped about me and I felt safe.

I settled into his embrace and relaxed only to tense again when I heard his sharp intake of breath.

My shawl had gaped at the top to reveal a very impressive bruise.

He took my shoulders firmly and I winced as his finger pressed against the same spots as Raoul's had last night.

He noticed my wince and immediately removed his hands only to reach for my shawl and tug it from my death-like grip and peel it from my shoulders.

His eyes blazed as his gaze fixed on the assortment of bruises that covered my neck and throat.

"Who did this Christine?"

**Hi, so now we know why Raoul was giving Erik daggers at the ball. **

**I was going to write Raoul out and have him vanish (since i really don't like him) but then i kinda remembered that i needed him and figured why not have him go a bit crazy. **

**I think that this is one of the most serious chapters so far, so sorry if it sticks out a bit.**

**Let me know what you think.**

**:-)**


	27. Chapter 27

**I do not own anything. **

**Erik**

**Entry 13**

I felt a red haze fill my vision when I saw bruises marring Christine's pale skin.

She had been quiet the whole journey through the passages to my home and I tried not to feel at a loss when she had not greeted me with her usual exuberance. Since the lessons began she has always greeted me by wrapping her arms around me as soon as she sees me. But not last night for some reason. And I did not know why. And it was eating at me.

She had smiled at me and through the dim light that filled the passages I saw her face was tired and drawn and her eyes were a little swollen. For some reason she was also gripping her shawl to her with a vice like hold, unlike having it wrapped about her shoulders like she always does she was holding it hight about her neck.

I walked in silence trying to think of what could possibly be wrong. She obviously did not wish to speak about what was troubling her and I did not want to force her to speak to me. But I wanted to know. I needed to know.

But true panic and worry settled over me when she could hardly sing a line when I began to play.

What was wrong with her? Was she ill?

I asked her if she was well and all she did was step towards me – still holding her shawl tightly – and she rested her head on my chest sighing heavily.

It was then as I looked down at her bent head that I saw a purple smudge standing out on her pale skin where her shawl was gaping between her neck and shoulders. It was a finger print.

Anger ran through my body.

Who would dare touch her?

I took her shoulders in my hands to make her straighten and I felt her stiffen under my fingers and heard her hiss of pain.

Her eyes met mine and they were filled with panic.

Why did she not want me to know?

"Who did this Christine?" I asked her, trying to keep control of my voice but I knew that I was hardly succeeding. I was angry and she knew that.

I watched as Christine's face crumpled and she fell against me, burying her head in my shoulder she began to sob.

I wrapped my arms around her shaking figure and held her close. I rubbed her back gently but after I heard her hiss in pain and stopped.

Just what had happened?

With each breathy sob she gave my heart clenched tighter in my chest.

"Christine sweetheart tell me what happened." I mumbled in her ear kissing her cheek and resting my forehead against her own.

She took a deep watery breath and opened her eyes that she had closed as soon as she had started crying.

"I don't know what I did Erik. He was so angry, I didn't know him any more." she whispered hoarsely

He. Who was 'he'? Who didn't she know any more? Who had done this to her?

"Christine who did this?" I asked her my voice now resembling a growl.

"Raoul." she sobbed leaning into me once more. I put my arms around her gently trying not to hold her to tightly - not knowing where she was hurting. My actions towards her totally contradicted my internal turmoil. I wanted to rip something apart – preferably that boy.

How dare he?

That boy had dared to lay his hands on my Christine. He had dared to touch her and mark her. Bruising her. Hurting her. Scaring her.

I tried to control my breathing and by doing so control my feelings – though I felt them boiling bellow my skin.

"Sweetheart, what happened?" I asked her softly, wanting her to tell me but not wanting to push her or upset her any further then she was. The fact that I could not hold her properly was tearing me up inside. She was hurting and I could not even comfort her.

I felt her take in a deep breath against my chest and her sobbing began to slow until she was huddled against my chest, her arms still around my waist and her head pressed against my shoulders.

We were getting no where by standing at my organ so making a quick decision I swung her small, light body into my arms and carried her to the bed that she had slept in that first night. All she did was turn her face into my jacket and breath deeply. Despite the seriousness of the situation and the fact that I was still wanting to break every bone in that boys body I allowed myself to enjoy the moment with her.

I sat down on the bed, my back against the headboard with Christine curled up on my lap. I stroked her tear stained cheek gently and pressed a kiss to her lips.

"Baby, please tell me what happened." I whispered into her ear as I began rocking her in my arms at a loss for what to do.

She looked up at me her eyes filled with tears that she was trying not to let fall. She breathed deeply and then began to tell me.

I thought that my anger had reached it's height when I had first heard that the Vicomte had given her the bruises but I felt it boil when Christine told me just how it had happened.

She told me that he had forced her against the wall and all but strangled her.

"I don't know what I did Erik." she sighed – still snuggled against my chest with my arms wrapped firmly around her.

"Have you told anyone else Christine." I asked her quietly wanting to know if she had confided in anyone else. After all it had been almost a full day.

She shook her head in reply.

"I made sure that I went to bed before the other girls came back to the room. I was a mess and I didn't want then asking questions. Especially Meg." she mumbled into my chest sighing heavily.

"He is the opera's patron Erik. What could I do?"

Christine had a point there. Even if it was brought to the attention of the managers it would be her word against his. A singer against an aristocrat.

I was going to kill him.

I held her for a little longer enjoying the feel of her in my arms before I escorted her back to the surface – not something I usually do but I did not like to let her out of my sight for any longer than I needed to.

After I had left a calmer Christine I went straight to Madame Giry's rooms and told her what had happened while pacing the room angrily.

"He did what?" she cried jumping to her feet her face turning the same shade of red it had when Christine and I had appeared at the ball.

"He had seen Christine with me at the masquerade and did not appreciate her refusal of his 'proposal'..." I trailed of.

"How dare he. What right does he have to man handle her that way. You should have seen her bruises. He marked her. There was a hand print on her neck..."

The ballet mistress's expression mirrors my own feelings going from shock when I began to fury once I had finished.

"That...that..."

I watched in amazement as the usually dignified woman clenched her fists and began pacing the floor in front of me now that I was standing still.

"He is supposed to be a gentleman. What gentleman treats the woman he is supposed to have feelings for in such a manner. He bruised her you say?" she looked at me but just continued to rant not expecting or requiring any reply from me.

"We are not leaving her alone. One of us will be with her at all time. This happened on the way to the dormitories as if he was waiting for her..." the woman continued her voice rising in anger.

My own anger that had cooled slightly during my own narrative of events fanned back to life as the woman began to voice her own opinions.

Yes, I was going to kill him.

After making plans with Madam Giry to have someone with Christine at all times I made my way back quickly to my home and dragged a box out from under my organ.

I opened the lid slowly. Calculating my every move and planning ahead.

Inside lay my Punjab lasso.

I took it out carefully. I had not needed to use this in some time. I had had several placed as booby traps around the various passages under the Opera to prevent any one from knowing of my existence here but when Christine began to visit I made sure to take them all down. Dreading the thought of finding her suspended by her throat – the life being choked out of her and it being my fault.

But this one would not be dormant any longer. I had a use for this one.

Today I prowled the corridors of the Opera my anger just as high as it had been last night.

I would leap into the shadows upon hearing anyone approaching me to continue on my way again once they had passed.

Just after lunch I heard my angel's voice coming towards me and watched her walk past me with Meg and I could not help but smile – Madame Giry had obviously carried out her plan of not having Christine alone. My heart skipped a beat when Christine turned around a frown on her face as she looked towards the alcove where I was hidden. She knew that I was there and the knowledge pleased me.

A few minutes after they had passed I heard more footsteps and saw the figure of a man coming down the corridor – quickly.

It was him.

And he was heading in the direction that the woman I love had just vanished in.

I reached below my cloak and took out the Punjab lasso. I was going to teach this boy a lesson that he would never forget.

I ducked into an alcove and waited for him to walk by, my mind becoming calm and calculating. I waited until he was just passed before flicking my wrist and pulling the noose tight and dragging him into the alcove. I heard him gasp for breath and felt a sense of satisfaction. This was how he had treated my Christine when he had held her my the throat. I was not going to spare him.

"How does it feel Monsieur Vicomte" I hissed in his ear as he flailed about. his hands grasping at his throat but being unable to pry the rope from his flesh.

"The next time you lay hands on my Christine I will not be so generous with your life. Do not dare touch her or even look at her. You will leave her alone." I pulled the noose tighter until his breathing almost stopped and he slumped against me. I released the noose and let him drop to the floor gasping and sputtering, clutching at his neck.

"Think of this the next time you raise your hand against a woman." I spat at him and turning away from the wheezing, pathetic sight, I made my way back home.

**Hey everyone. This chapter took me days to get right. Well...i think i got it right anyway.**

**Say hello to the dark side of Erik mwahaha. Hehe. Raise your hand if you were getting sick of the sweet and sickly adoring couple.**

**Anyhoo any kind of feedback would be great on this chapter and very much appreciated. **

**Thanks**

**:-)**


	28. Chapter 28

**I still own zilch - yip life sucks:)**

Christine

Things seem to have settled down once again (apart from some strange behaviour from Meg and Madame Giry but I will talk about that later). I can still feel Raoul's gaze burning through me at times and I have to fight the urge to run every time.

The night that I told Erik what had happened with Raoul I cried into his shoulder and I found missing the feeling of his arms around me so much – my back was so sore that I cried in pain whenever he touched me. He had picked me up bridal style after I had started crying and he held me close, carrying me to the bed that I had found myself after my debut. I was so confused and lost that all I could do was cry as I curled up against him, burying my head into his chest as warmth and comfort surrounded me. I did not mean to fall asleep but I did and I could not stop myself from blushing when I woke up and found him smilling down at me.

He escorted me back to the surface and before he left me I reached for him, drawing him down towards me so I could place a kiss on his lips. I did not have to worry any longer about him seeing my bruises so I did not hesitate to wrap one of my arms tightly around his neck – holding him to me while I tried to ignore the pain in my back from the stretching skin. I traced his cheek with my other hand. I trailed my fingers gently down the uncovered half of his face loving the feel of his skin beneath my fingers. I felt his own hands hover at my back and I knew that he did not want to hurt me by holding me close as he normally does. He finally seemed to decide and I felt one of his hands rest on my hip and the other at the small of my back. I sighed against his lips content to be once again held by him.

After I do not know how long he pushed me away gently and smiled at me before I turned and went to bed.

The next day was filled with rehearsals and I once again found myself being grateful that it was not Erik that I had to rehears opposite of – especially in front of the while company – for I am absolutely sure that I would never be able to stop blushing at the seductive, risqué lyrics. I am sure that the whole of Paris will be a bit shocked when we open, Erik's music is very bold indeed. But to get back to the point. It is a bit hard to blush at the meaning of the words and music when singing opposite the Italian baritone whose clothes could probably fit four of my Erik in at the same time. Not to mention that he is married to Carlotta the ultimate she-devil – according to Erik (he was in a really bad mood the day he said that, but I doubt he will ever take it back).

I was also thankful that it was not a dress rehearsal that we were doing for if it was the whole company would have got a glimpse at my back and neck, so I got to keep my shawl gripped tightly around me during our practise.

I think that it was a bit peculiar that I never seemed to be alone. Madame Giry had come to see me in the morning just as I was leaving my room and the look in her eyes screamed at me that she knew something.

She could not know about what Raoul did?

Could she?

No. To know what Raoul had done she would either have had to have seen what happened - and if that was the case she would not have stood and watched for sure. I have learned over the years that my foster mother is not a person to be reckoned with. The only other option I could think of was that Erik had said something to her. But surely if he had said something to her she would have said something to me but she didn't so I just settled for her being in a strange mood.

She patted my back as I left the room and I fought back the tears that sprung to my eyes when she caught my injuries.

She walked with me to the stage when Meg came bounding up to us and then she walked away with a frown on her face and her eyes scanned the cast and the empty auditorium.

Meg chatted away to me with her usual exuberance and I could not help but get carried along with her...that is until she started to let her gaze dart about the stage and seats just like her mother had done earlier.

What was going on?

The rehearsals went smoothly until about lunch time when I saw Meg and her mother whispering to each other their eyes darting to a point in the auditorium that I could not see. Before I knew what happening Madame Giry had announced that it was lunch time and I was being whisked away by Meg down the corridors.

We rushed passed one of the many alcoves and I got the same feeling that I get when with Erik – a warm, safe glow. I know that it sounds as though I am mad but that is what happens. I frowned into the darkness wondering just why I was feeling that way. After all it was midday and I was sure that Erik never comes above ground when there is a chance that he might be seen but I was sure that I saw the white shadow of his ghostly mask just where his head would be.

Meg continued to pull me along the corridor and I had to turn away from where I was sure my angel was watching me. The feeling that I had soon vanished as soon as I was shoved into Carlotta's dressing room closely followed by Meg and then Madame Giry a few moments later who was carrying some food.

The day continued the same way with either Madame Giry or Meg always with me until the time came for my lesson with Erik and then they both seemed to magically vanish.

I went to my lesson deep in thought completely confused over the events of the day but thankful that I had not seen Raoul – which was unusual as it was a regular practise for him to watch the rehearsals, but then he had never tried to strangle me before so my thoughts on that subject ended as soon as they had begun as I assumed that he was ashamed of his actions.

I remember also wondering vaguely whose footsteps I had heard when Meg and I were going to the dressing room. They had sounded as though they were running but they had suddenly stopped...Hmm-maybe they discovered that they had taken a wrong turn or something. It is easy to do especially if one is new to the opera and we do have some new orchestra members due to Erik's instructions to the managers. Some of the musicians had became a bit lax in their duty.

I still did not manage to give Erik the same joyful greeting that I always do – indeed I could hardly raise my arms now that the cuts on my back were healing if I so much as pulled the skin it stung. He seemed to know this though and leaned down to kiss me, I saw him smile before I lost sight of his mouth as it met mine. I put my hands on his chest and gripped the lapels of his immaculate jacket, scrunching the fine material in my hands.

He raised his head and smiled at me. All I could do was return the smile – grinning like an idiot.

"You are very happy today Erik." I commented lightly at the end of the lesson that had only involved singing – no dancing or stage directions – much to my disappointment but I knew that my back would never last through the movements and pressure.

He came up to me after sorting through some music and placed his hands on my hips - just like he had the night before and he looked into my eyes. He had the happy little boy face on that was becoming a regular occurrence over the past couple of months.

He rubbed his nose against my own still smiling.

"How is your back my love?" he asked me seemingly avoiding the subject.

"Sore," I whispered not being able to stop the smile that spread across my own face in response to his.

"It is healing though." I added when his smile began to fade.

"Has the Vicomte approached you since?" he asked me very nearly snarling Raoul's title.

I shook my head.

"I haven't been alone all day." I told him, still feeling a little confused about the continual presence of either my foster mother or best friend.

He took me back to the surface the same as every night and I went to bed still as confused as I had been all day.

Things have continued this way for almost two weeks and during this time my back has healed and my bruises have faded. I have no idea why someone is always with me and whenever I bring up the subject Erik always expertly changes the subject. I am finding it all very peculiar.

And apart from feeling Raoul's gaze on me from a distance I am never close to him or near enough to feel threatened or to exchange words with him. For this I am glad. I can never seem to suppress the slight shiver of fear that runs through my body whenever I see his eyes peering at me. Of course I have not told Erik any of this. After listening to the way he speaks of Raoul I dare not say to him how I feel when in his line of thought.

I am glad that my back is now healed. I never realized how much I missed feeling Erik's arms around me until I could no longer receive his warm and secure embraces.

Rehearsals are nearly complete for Don Juan and we open in three days. I am nervous. I do not want to let Erik down now especially since it is his work. I am also worried about Piangi. He is becoming very short of breath lately despite Madame Giry advising on Erik's behalf that he perhaps tried to lose some weight he seems to be as heavy as always and I fear that the strain in his heart is getting to be to much...

**Hey. Hope you like. **

**Pretty, pretty please let me know what you think.**

**:-)**


	29. Chapter 29

**Nothing belongs to me :(**

Erik

Entry 14

It turns out that I was right to be worried about Piangi and the strain that he was putting his heart under. I had asked Madame Giry some time ago to drop a hint to the managers about suggesting to the baritone that he try and lose some weight. It seems though that the suggestion fell on deaf ears.

Don Juan Triumphant opened tonight and I was happily anticipating the introduction of my opera to the whole of Paris. Christine I know was feeling very nervous, not wanting to let me down. I could only laugh and smile at her when she had voiced her concerns to me. No matter what happened she could never let me down.

Everything seemed to be going fine. All the usual problems that cause hiccups during the first night of a production seemed to have passed us by. That is until Piangi was found. He was dead. His body was found slumped against some scenery behind the stage.

I seemed to view the entire proceedings in a kind of trance. Detached.

It seemed to come as a shock to everyone and even though I had been expecting some kind of health problems I had never expected this. The whole performance had to be put on hold and the entire house was refunded and the opening rescheduled for next week. Due to some "unfortunate, unforeseen occurrence" according to the managers.

The audience went home grumbling and unsatisfied – after all you do not want to tell a whole auditorium of people that the performance can not continue because of a dead body. They would not return for months. People seem to have an unexplainable aversion to dead bodies. Which strikes me as strange since dyeing is a natural part of living is it not?

I made my way back to the lake, deep in thought.

I was disappointed about the delay. It was after all the opening night of my opera. The opera that I had spent years working on. The opera that was only completed due to Christine being in my life. Her influence had allowed me to call on a whole well of emotion deep within me that I did not even know existed.

On my way through the passages and basements I wondered just how the managers were going to put together the production for a week from now. It is not easy to find singers and as Piangi had no understudy the whole process would have to be started from scratch. Such a thing could take weeks if not months. I could not see them doing it in seven days.

Then it struck me.

After Madame Giry's somewhat pointed conversation about my face I had began to think about how I would go about living above when married to Christine. It would be a crime for me to even consider imprisoning her with me below the Opera House. So I had began to experiment. I had though that perhaps it would be acceptable for me to just continue with my mask but no...a story would need to be thought of. Small pox? A fight? An animal attack? War? There were so many different options. And then even if such a tale was accepted by the world above they would no doubt wish to see proof. After all many men have such problems and they do not hide their faces from the rest of humanity. I still cringe to think of the day that Christine will see what I really am...

But to continue.

After brushing of the idea of making do with only my mask I began to think about other options.

During comedy pieces certain make-ups are used to increase the size of body parts such as noses, ears etc. If such things could be used to create features then surely it could hide them also. So during one of my many visits above I picked up what I required.

When I got back I sat before the one mirror that I have and removed my mask carefully. Sill feeling surprised that the mirror did not crack at the monstrous reflection that was staring back at me. I opened the jar and sniffed it suspiciously. I could not quite identify the scent of the white sticky substance.

Deciding to get the disappointment out of the way quickly – I was somewhat sceptical as to whither it would work or not – I scooped out a handful and plastered it across my face. The bizarre mixture was cold and shocked the sensitive, thin skin on the blemished side of my face.

I continued to smear it on - the longer it was exposed to the air the more solid it became and yet it stayed flexible. I moulded it as close to my skin as possible and by the end I was surprised that the end result was pretty good. The extreme scaring and markings was no longer visible instead it was just smooth white. I could do nothing to prevent my eyelid from drooping but it was not a bad attempt.

I emptied out the bag of stage make-up that I had lifted along with the slightly smaller bag of the more discrete make-up that I had lifted from Carlotta's dressing room. I set to work trying to get the two sides of my face to blend seamlessly. I experimented with the different shades and tones until I finally managed to find the right combination. It was not until I had finished that I realised that I had been at it for nearly four hours.

I sat back and admired my handy work. I flatter myself that I had not done a very bad job.

Both side of my face merged seamlessly with nothing that could be seen to say that my whole face was not my own. I had to spray some kind of strong smelling stuff to my face to stop the make-up from running – the performers use it during productions to save their costumes.

I felt a slight lift in my chest when I realised that I looked just like any other man. I could make a life for myself and Christine above the confines of the basements...

But there is a reason behind this story. As I was saying I was walking back home trying to think of just how the managers were going to pull off their idea of rescheduling the performance for a week today. I could perform in Piangi's place. With Madame Giry's assistance of course. As it was the ballet mistress who had first approached the managers and conductor with my work I would need her to identify me as the writer. And then they could hardly deny me the rights to perform in my own Opera. I would sing with Christine before the whole of Paris.

I began to rush now, my steps echoing around the passages.

A soon as I got home I dragged out the bag of make-up and began the same process. I had practised occasionally since then and since I was no longer experimenting the whole thing took no longer then half an hour. I ensured that I had missed no where and that everywhere blended properly. I was showing Christine and I was not risking missing anywhere.

I carefully placed my mask back over my face and rushed back to the surface more eager to show Christine and tell her of my idea than I had been about the opening of my opera.

It didn't come as much of a surprise to me when I recognised steps coming towards me – quickly. And I was no where near the surface.

I opened up my arms when Christine came running towards me and she threw her arms around me. I held her close to me - once again feeling lucky at having her in my life. She squeezed me tightly before she drew away and looked into my eyes.

She asked me how I was, her voice thick with concern and I smiled widely at her. She was worried that I was upset about the performance. She didn't know that I had something greater to show her.

"I am fine my love," I told her stroking her hair away from her face before I took her hand and lead her back to the lake. She clutched my hand trustingly.

"What is the rush Erik?" she asked me and I could hear the laughter in her voice. She always found my behaviour funny when I acted this way. I don't know why.

"I have something to show you," I answered her unable to keep the excitement out of my voice.

After what seemed a lifetime we were finally back at my home the light coming form the many candles placed around the cavern making it almost as bright as it was outside.

I released her hand and spun around to face her, still smiling happily.

"I have something to show you," I repeated.

She just smiled at me and nodded her head.

My hands moved to my mask but before I could remove it she had lurched forward and took my hands in hers.

"You do not have to do this Erik," she told me, her voice was shaking with emotion.

I continued to smile and squeezed her hand. Not once has she ever made a move to remove my mask from my face. Always respecting the fact that I am most comfortable with it on.

I slipped my hand out of hers and moved back to my mask. She would have no reason to be ashamed of being seen with me from this day on – not that she would ever show me that she was feeling so...

I took the mask from my face and waited for her reaction.

She was silent.

I looked at her and seeing the shock on her face words sprung to my lips.

"I know that you have never seen my face as it truly is sweetheart," I whispered reaching out a shaking hand to stroke her own perfect cheek. I cupped her face in my hand.

"But do you think you could live with this?" I asked her, unsure if what her reaction would be. Would she demand to see what I was hiding?

She reached out her own hand and stroked the side of my face that was now mask less.

"I love you, Erik," she told me firmly.

"Whither you wear a mask or not." If only she knew what was truly hidden she would run from me. All the love in the world could not over look my cursed face.

She blushed now and wrapped her arms around my neck drawing my head down. I allowed her to do so, willingly losing myself in the kiss that she planted on my lips. I had never realized before just how much my mask had been in the way. I deepened the kiss and held her closer to me. I felt her knot her finger in my hair when I went to pull away. It seemed that I was not the only one who had noticed the difference.

A need for air finally drew us apart and I wrested my forehead against her own.

She was gasping for breath as was I.

I stood straight and looked down at her. She was smiling brightly at me.

"That is definitely a bonus,"she breathed.

I told her of my plan and she agreed whole heartedly, insisting that we go to see Madame Giry right then.

I allowed myself to be dragged along and found myself standing outside the ballet mistress rooms tugging at my collar nervously.

Christine let go of my hand (that she hadn't let go of since she had began dragging me) and slapped playfully at the one that was tugging at my shirt. Going to see Madame Giry tonight had not been part of the plan. She straightened my tie that I had managed to mess up with my fusing and playfully planted a light kiss on the tip of my nose.

"You look fine Erik," she whispered, pulling away slowly and looking into my eyes.

"You look very handsome," she added tugging my jacket straight and I saw the same blush come to her cheeks that had appeared earlier.

I felt invincible at that moment and leaning forward I knocked on the door.

**Do you like my twist?**

**It won't be long now till the end =(*sniff sniff* 3-5 more chapters. I feel so sad. **

**Anywayz moving swiftly on :). Hope you like and please let me know what you think.**

**Cheers and have a great weekend everybody :)**


	30. Surprises

**Still own nothing :(**

**Chapter 30 - Surprises**

Christine

I could not help but panic when Erik reached for his mask a few days ago. Do not get me wrong I was not worried about what was underneath the mask and I will never be worried about that, but I did not want Erik to feel pressured into revealing himself to me. My mind spun with all our conversations as I tried to think if I had ever led him to believe that I wanted to know what was under his mask. If I had ever led him to think that I needed to know.

"I have something to show you." he had whispered to me and he had reached in a very determined manner for the ties that keep his mask in place.

I tried to stop him immediately and held his hands firmly in mine telling him that whatever it was that he was going to do he did not have to. He only smiled at me and continued to do what he had been planning.

My heart nearly stopped when he slowly took the mask from his face.

He was so handsome.

I could tell that it was not his face – it looked like the stuff used for stage make-up, but I did not care. I could not think of anything to say to him. I could only stand silent and watch him. I had always thought him handsome even with his mask but without it...

"I know that you have never seen my face as it truly is sweetheart," he whispered. Raising one gentle hand and cupping my cheek with it, he traced under my eye with his thumb and I could not stop myself from leaning into his touch.

"But do you think you could live with this?" he asked me and my heart clenched within my chest. I could live with anything as long as I could be with him. How could he think any different?

I reached out and as gently as I could I cupped the side of his face that was now uncovered. It was not skin that I was touching and I knew that whatever he deemed unfit to be seen was still hidden.

"I love you, Erik," I told him, willing him to believe me, never meaning any words more than I did at that moment. He needed to believe me. I did not care what he looked like. I would never care.

"Whither you wear a mask or not." I added firmly, needing him to know that I did not care.

I could still see the doubt dancing deeply within his eyes and I did the only thing that I could think of. I reached for him and wrapping my arms around his neck I drew his head down to me and kissed him for all I was worth. As soon as our lips met I realised for the first time how much his mask had been in the way. Erik tightened his grip on me and deepened the kiss. He went to move away but I would not let him. I knotted my fingers in his hair - not allowing him to pull away from me.

I felt a pang of regret when the need for air finally made us part from each other.

"That is definitely a bonus," I breathed, still gasping for breath and I knew that a deep blush was travelling across my face. Yes there was an upside to him not wearing his mask.

After we had both regained our breath he began to tell me about his plan to take the place of Piangi in the opera. Which explained him wanting to be able to appear without his mask.

I agreed whole heartedly with the idea. I would have the chance to sing with him before the whole of Paris. I was so excited that I insisted that we went to see Madame Giry that night, so I dragged him to my foster mother's room and stood before the door.

We spoke with the ballet mistress for some time. She had been more than a little shocked when she had seen Erik's face.

I still could not get over how strange it was to see him with no mask on. I have always thought him handsome. He has a presence that I cannot explain. But now, even though I knew that whatever he had done to his face was basically another kind of mask I could not deny that he looked very attractive.

But to get back to my story.

After Madame Giry had gotten used to Erik's new appearance she agreed with his plan and when we were both leaving I could see the look of pride cross her face and shine in her eyes.

The next day Erik accompanied Madame Giry to the managers' office. I was so nervous. As everything had been put on hold I had nothing to do other than to sit and worry about the outcome of the meeting.

What if they did not accept him?

What if they asked things that he was unable to answer?

Of course they would accept Madame Giry's word as to his identity but the list was unending within my panicking mind of things that could go wrong.

But all my worries where put to rest and proved to be without basis when I saw the smile upon Erik's face that evening.

Out of respect for Piangi and Carlotta all things to do with the production were cancelled for a further day. On the third day from the accident Erik was introduced to the company. We had thought it through carefully and thought it best that for the time being everyone else be under the impression that we had never met before.

I watched as he was introduced to the company and I could not help the twinge of annoyance that bloomed within my mind when the dancers and chorus members fluttered their eyelashes and pressed closer to him than was strictly necessary. I could see Erik becoming uncomfortable – after all he has never been in the company if more than two people at a time since coming to the opera.

I hated seeing him so trapped and uncomfortable so I decided to rescue him and pull the 'lead soprano' act as I had not yet been officially introduced to my new leading man.

I marched across the stage where we had all been summoned to and made my way towards the buzzing crowd where right in the centre was Erik. They all stood aside to let me through and I was thankful for the power that I held over the rest of the company as it allowed me to reach Erik quicker than if I was just a dancer still. I smiled when Erik let out a visible sigh of relief when the overzealous dancers drew away from him.

As I stood before him I watched as he composed himself and within seconds he was once again the calm and collected man who had taught me to sing.

"Ah," exclaimed one of the managers pushing their way through the crowd towards us.

"Monsieur Carriere this is our rising star Mademoiselle Christine Daae - our soprano,"

I dropped a curtsy while he bowed slightly at the waist but not before winking at me. I fought the blush that threatened to set my face alight.

"Mademoiselle, Monsieur Carriere," he finished just as I rose from my curtsy.

"It is a pleasure to meet you Mademoiselle," Erik said softly, reaching for my hand and placing a fleeting kiss on the back.

I tried not to laugh while the whole company watched to see what we would make of each other.

"I hope you enjoy your time with us Monsieur," I did not know what else to say. I desperately wanted to giggle and by the glint in Erik's eyes he was not doing much better either.

Suddenly and thankfully the voices of both the managers cut in and I turned to see Raoul approaching the stage. I could not stop myself from tensing and Erik squeezed my hand in encouragement before releasing it. Before I knew what was happening Erik was no longer anywhere near me and both Madame Giry and Meg were standing next to me.

Raoul reached the stage and sprinted up the stairs. I felt his burning gaze rest on me before his eyes settled on the managers and they stood huddled together for some time - no doubt speaking of the upcoming changes and production dates.

I did not know what turn the conversation had taken but I heard Raoul's voice rise in volume and anger and I flinched involuntarily. I tried to calm myself down. It was Erik's first day the last thing he needed was to get angry if he saw my reaction to my old childhood friend.

I saw the managers indicate for someone to come to them and saw Erik emerge from behind one of the many stage settings and approach the other men. Seeing them both side by side for the first time once again highlighted with a greater force the differences between my Erik and Raoul within my mind.

Erik with his dark features eclipsed Raoul's boyish, fair features. One was a man while the other a mere boy playing in the adult world.

I cringed when I saw Raoul's mouth set in a grim line and I knew immediately that he did not like the idea of Erik playing in the opera. I felt anger rise within me at this point. The opera was Erik's creation if he wished to play within it, it was his right.

"Perhaps you would wish to give us a demonstration as to your skill," Raoul sneered, his tone telling everyone present that he doubted Erik's ability to perform. I lurched forward wanting to tell him what I thought of his opinion when Madame Giry gripped my arm firmly. I breathed deeply and threw her a quick smile, grateful for being stopped before I did something that I am sure I would have regretted.

"I am sure Christine will not mind assisting you," he added turning angrily towards me.

I nodded my head in agreement and plastered what I hoped was a genuine looking smile onto my face.

"Not at all. I would be honoured,"

My heart thundered within my chest as Erik was handed a bunch of music by the conductor and began to flick through it. I was going to sing with my angel, my Erik before the entire company, I was so happy. He settled on a piece and handed the music to Monsieur Reyer keeping two copies of the lyrics.

He walked towards me smiling and held out one of the copies to me.

I read the title.

_All I Ask of You – a duet._

I looked up at him and smiled.

"This is perfect Monsieur,"

The orchestra began to play gently and softly as everyone fell silent.

Erik's voice filled the auditorium and I allowed my eyes to drift shut for a few seconds.

"_I'm here nothing can harm you – my words will warm and calm you."_

I opened my eyes and began to follow the words as I remembered just how safe and loved I felt within his arms. I am untouchable when he holds me.

"_I'm here, with you, beside you, to guard you and to guide you..."_

Just as he had since I was a child.

I drew in a deep breath and began to sing my lines.

"_Say you love me every waking moment..."_

I knew that he loved me. The light shinning within his eyes tells me that whenever I see him but I will never tire of him telling me.

"_Let me be your shelter, let me be your light,"_

Always, I thought as his words washed over me, filling my mind and heart.

I no longer cared that we were standing before the entire cast. They all seemed to melt away until there was only myself and the man I love.

The music reached its climax as we sang together. Our voices merging seamlessly as they had done on so many other occasions.

"_Anywhere you go let me go too...Love me – that's all I ask of you..."_

Our voices drifted away to nothing as we looked at each other lost in each other's eyes.

When the music finished the company began clapping breaking the spell that we had weaved upon each other. The managers were smiling as one of them clapped Erik on the back.

"Well I think that settles that question," he laughed.

It was then that I remembered why we had been singing anyway. It had been Raoul questioning Erik's ability. I scanned the crowd looking for him and when my eyes settled on him I could not suppress the shiver that travelled down my spine.

His eyes were glowing with a fury that I had never seen before and his gaze was locked on Erik who was still being congratulated by the managers.

I wanted to drag Erik from the room not wanting him to be on the receiving end of such unpolluted hatred.

As though sensing my gaze Raoul's eyes suddenly spun to meet my own and my heart stopped beating.

I did not know what was going on within his mind but I decided that I was never going to be alone with him.

All of this happened yesterday and today was the first official day of rehearsals with Erik as the leading man. Everything has gone smoothly though Raoul has insisted on being present for the rehearsals. We have both held back from putting our all into the stage directions as we did during our own rehearsals and practises. I do not know what Erik's reasons are for doing so but I do not wish to give away our relationship. I am supposed to have just met him and everyone knows me well enough to know that I would never be able to act in a certain way with a complete stranger.

I nearly died of embarrassment after we had sung _Point of No Return _for the first time_. _Meg came up to me and told me that we were both oozing seduction. That was when I decided to try and under act everything. During the actual performance I can throw myself into it but not when my every move is being analysed by the over active imaginations of every member of the company.

**Hey guys, hope you like.**

**I got Erik's last name from the 1990 miniseries with Charles Dance. **

**I finally got All I Ask of You in whoop whoop - goal achieved :).**

**The remaining chapters will be in Erik's point of view and will be up very, very, very soon.**

**Let me know what you think.**

**:-)**


	31. Heaven is Now

**I still own nothing :(**

**Chapter 31 – Heaven Is Now**

Erik

Entry 15

My Christine is asleep in my arms. Her head against my chest and once again heaven has changed. Heaven is right now in this moment.

But perhaps I should write of what has happened tonight and over the past few days.

It was the second opening night of Don Juan this evening.

The few rehearsals involving me went well and I am thankful for the hours of practise that Christine and myself had while I was helping her to learn her part. Our time together allowed us to act seamlessly both tonight and during cast rehearsals.

One thing during rehearsals that I have noticed was that neither of us seemed to throw ourselves into our parts as we had done while at my home. I thought at first that Christine may have felt a little self conscious but she told me that the rest of the cast would expect her to act a certain way with a complete stranger, while I resented the hungry gaze of the men upon my Christine and the flirtatious glances of the women directed towards me.

Our evening rehearsals together continued however. I would leave the Opera - giving the impression that I live outside the Opera (as would be expected of the leading baritone and composer of the performing opera), only to return once everyone was having their evening meal and too busy to pay any attention to the shadowy figure walking through the halls.

I enjoyed the time spent above ground with Christine my only regret being that out engagement was not made common knowledge.

Despite my warning to him I was still concerned over the actions of the vicomte and my concerns proved to be with foundation.

As soon as I was officially introduced to him I saw the slight flicker of recognition within his eyes and knew that he had remembered my voice from when I had extracted revenge when he had cornered Christine and bruised her that night.

He thought to embarrass me before the whole company when he asked me to prove my "skill" in singing. I bit back the sharp reply to his comment that rose to my lips and walked towards the conductor who was holding out a pile of sheet music for me to examine. My hatred for the boy only grew when I heard the condescending, ordering tone he used when addressing Christine.

I reached for the music but not before stealing a glance at Christine. She was smiling politely but I could tell from her expression that she was trying to keep her temper in check.

I flicked through the music and a piece caught my eye. I had not heard it in some years - it had been used in an opera the year before Christine came to live in the dormitories. I smiled slightly remembering the lyrics and music effortlessly. They described my feelings for the woman before me perfectly and it would show all those on the stage my ability and how our voices sounded together.

I handed the conductor the sheet music, holding back a copy for myself and Christine. I gave her one of the sheets.

She read the title and smiled at me. Her smile gave me courage and filled my chest with light.

"This is perfect Monsieur," she told me softly and I smiled in return as the music began to play, washing over us and encasing us in a bubble where there was only the two of us.

"_No more talk of darkness,"_

From the moment that I saw her as a child she had been the light of my life, driving the darkness away from my existence, away from my soul.

"_Your safe: No-one will find you – your fears are far behind you..."_

I would protect her for as long as I lived. She would have nothing to be afraid of.

"_...and you, always beside me, to hold me and to hide me..."_

As long as she needed me I would be there for her. I would hold her in my arms for the rest of time if she wished it.

The music continued to wash over us as we weaved the same spell that we always cast when our voices join together. I was aware of the silence around us and the eyes upon us – we were casting the very same spell upon our audience.

The music came to an end and silence engulfed the room until our audience began to clap in approval.

"Well I think that settles that question," laughed one of the managers coming up behind me and clapping me hard on the back. I tore my eyes from Christine and stopped myself from flinching. I had never been surrounded by so many people before – not since I was a child - and I found myself becoming uncomfortable in the presence of so many bodies.

The managers continued to prattle on about the rehearsals and costumes while the rest of the company drifted away into their own groups. I glanced quickly away from the managers to try and find Christine. When my eyes finally settled on Christine her gaze was fixed on the vicomte. The boy's eyes were filled with fury. I was more than glad of Madame Giry at that point than I have ever been for she still made sure that Christine was accompanied wherever she went.

The performance flowed easily this evening and Christine and I left the audience spell bound with our performance. She played the part perfectly and we held nothing back - unlike during the rehearsals. We swept the whole auditorium into our world and none of them resisted the pull.

We were applauded and encored until the rafters rang out with the noise. My heart swelled with pride. They were cheering my work...my opera.

I gripped Christine's hand in my own as we bowed before the audience. I looked towards her to see a smile lighting up her face. She looked radiant. She squeezed my hand in encouragement.

The after party was busy and crowded and I stopped myself from darting from the room and away from the throng of people. I was approached continually throughout the night and congratulated on my success as both the composer and the singer. For the first time in my life I was being accepted. For my talent and gift with music I was being accepted by the world.

Christine stayed close to me and on one occasion when everyone was preoccupied she leaned in close to me and planted the faintest of kisses on my cheek.

"I love you Erik," she whispered before pulling away. Her eyes were shinning as she looked into my own.

When finally the celebration began to wind down I let out an audible sigh of relief that thankfully no one could hear. Those that were still lingering were to drunk or tired to notice when I slipped away and instead of leaving the Opera to return later I went straight to the passage that leads to my home glad to be away.

I was not surprised when I saw Christine standing in the alcove still in her costume. The silk caught the light making her shine and I heard the heels of her boots echoing along the corridor when she ran towards me her arms outstretched and a wide smile on her face, her eyes dancing.

She jumped into my arms and I spun her around. We both laughed with joy and happiness. I lost myself in the sensation of having her in my arms. All night I had wanted to hold her but it had been impossible.

I returned her to the ground sooner than I wished and she planted kisses across my face.

"I am so proud of you Erik," she told me between kisses.

I took her hand in my own and planted a quick kiss on it before I dragged her along behind me. I was desperate to get the horrible mixture that was covering my scars of my face and allow my scarred flesh the chance to feel air upon it.

We arrived at the lake and Christine stood at my organ facing away from me while I made quick work of stripping my face of the stage make-up and replacing my mask.

I went up behind Christine holding her against my chest. She had been looking out across the lake with misty eyes.

"You sang beautifully tonight," I whispered into her ear remembering how she had looked and sounded on the stage – her eyes had never left mine during our duet. I gently kissed her neck and she leaned more heavily against me.

"You weren't too bad yourself," she replied playfully turning in my arms to look into my eyes.

"You deserved every rose and clap this evening Erik," she told me raising a hand and stroking my masked cheek. I closed my eyes and leaned into her touch. Her praise and pride meant more to me than that of the whole of Paris.

She placed her head against my chest and yawned sleepily, rubbing her head against my jacket. She was adorable - acting like a tired kitten within my arms.

"My sleepy angel," I laughed softly into her ear and she slapped my chest playfully with her fist.

"I'll take you back above," I told her drawing away from her and taking her hand in mine.

I led her through the dim passages until we reached the passage that lead to the Opera's corridors and she trailed behind me sleepily. I stopped suddenly when I noticed someone standing against the wall. Christine walked into the back of me and I reached out a hand to steady her.

"Erik what is..." she trailed of as she too caught sight of the shadow figure.

My mind raced. No one knew of the entrance or the secret passages. Who was it?

They began to clap and a humourless laugh filled the empty corridor.

Christine tensed behind me.

"Bravo, Monsieur," came the chilling voice of the vicomte as he stalked towards us. I did not know what he wanted but I did not trust him, I was on my guard.

"I did not get the opportunity to congratulate you on your performances this evening but it would seem that you have both had your own celebration," he continued. Christine's ever tightening grip on my arm was the only thing that stopped me from flying at him. I remembered what Christine had told me he had thought the night that he had attacked her and it would seem that his mind continued to twist our actions into something that they were not. Though I did not give into the urge to grab him by the throat I could not stop the growl that rose from my chest.

He insulted both of us with his words and insinuations.

I moved backwards trying to move Christine out of his line of vision when he sprang.

**Dun, dun, duuunnnnn.**

**Hehe. You will not have to wait long though as the next and last chapter (sniff, sniff) will be up tonight as well - it was going to be one long chapter but I didn't think it really worked so you are getting 2 chapters instead.**

**:)**


	32. A Heaven with my Angel

**I own nothing :(**

**Chapter 32 – Heaven is With Her**

Erik

Entry 16

The vicomte threw himself at me no doubt thinking that he had the upper hand. But he was wrong. I moved towards him matching his force and dragging us both to the ground as I tried to put as much distance between Christine and the vicomte as I could. I was prepared and as soon as we collided with the ground I rolled to the side and away from the other man. He was not prepared for such a reaction and released his hold on me in shock. I took advantage of this and sprung to my feet.

I saw his gaze rest on Christine and I immediately stood before her doing my best to block her small body from the mad man who was picking himself up of the ground. His eyes were glowing with fury.

Her hands gripped at me and I reached behind with one of my hands and captured one of her small ones in my own. I was more than a match for any man but even I would not underestimate the strength that madness gives to a man and there was no doubt within my mind that the man before me was insane.

Christine was pressed tight against my back and I could feel her heart thumping wildly.

"So this is the man that you chose over me Christine," he spat at us, his eyes looked past my shoulder to where I am sure Christine's face was. His eyes were empty of all emotion though his face showed nothing but burning rage, his features twisted.

"A man who hides his face and lives in the ground. I was not fooled, I know that fake appearance he created in not his real face," he snarled not making a move towards us but standing still.

His words cut at me. He was telling her things that I already knew.

"You refused me to be his...his plaything," venom dripped from his words and anger bloomed within me at his referring to my Christine in such a way as his mind once again began to twist things to match his distorted mind.

"No one refuses me. Especially a little opera whore," he screamed and my whole body tensed at his words. How dare he? Christine is all purity and goodness and yet he dared to throw such insults at her.

"Raoul please don't do this," she breathed against my back. Her voice was shaking but there was still strength in every word as she begged with him.

"Remember our childhood Raoul," she begged him and her hands clutched at me tighter. I could hear the sadness in her voice.

He barked out a laugh at her words, his eyes no longer empty but wild and blood shot.

"I wanted you from the moment I saw you again Christine. And you expect me to give you up like that,"

I could feel Christine's head pressed into my back as she shook it. I could feel the sadness coming from her and I knew that it was hurting her to see the man that had once been a friend to her act this way, to say such things to her.

"You could not lose me Raoul, you never had me," she whispered.

That seemed to make the man before us snap and he launched himself at us.

I pushed Christine away as far as I could before I was once again forced to the ground.

What happened next is a blur.

We fought and struggled for I do not know how long and despite my best efforts my face was forced into the ground and I felt his knee pressing into my back, his inhuman strength keeping me pinned in place. I felt his fingers clutching at my mask and panic seized hold of me and I struggled wildly trying to shake his hold.

I felt the cool air hit my skin and I knew that he had taken my mask from my face. Christine now knew what I looked like. What I had been hiding from her.

The vicomte gripped my hair forcing my head away from the ground.

"This is what you are in love with Christine?" he spat and I closed my eyes not wanting to see the look of horror in my loves eyes. Helplessness and loss washed over me.

"This half man?" he added, his words dripping with hate as he shook my head savagely.

"Raoul leave him alone. Please," I heard the broken words of Christine and opened my eyes. She was still on the floor where she must have landed when I pushed her away from me. She was staring at the two of us, her eyes wide with fear.

I did not know what was going on within his mind but I would not let him hurt her. I would die first. She could reject me for lying to her if she wished but I would never allow this mad man to harm her.

The vicomte concentration had lapsed as he took his eyes from me and focused on Christine. I took advantage of this and brought my elbow back to make contact with the side of his face. He let out a cry of pain and fell away from me to land on his back on the ground. I struggled to my feet and caught sight of Christine crawling backwards and huddling into the wall - as far as she could get from the vicomte. I dragged my gaze from her as the vicomte once again got to his feet panting for breath.

He flung himself at me and the struggle began once again. I cannot say how long it lasted only that it finally ended. After he had backed me up against the wall and tried to press my head as far back as it would go with a burst of strength I did not think I possessed I slammed my fist into the side of his head sending him sprawling backwards. I braced myself, prepared for him to get to his feet. He did not.

I stood silent and still for a few more seconds and approached him slowly when there was no movement.

For the first time I glance around and saw that our struggle had brought us out into the mercifully empty corridors of the Opera.

He was still breathing but I noticed a long cut on his head. He was unconscious.

I spun around and found Christine curled up against the wall where I had last seen her. She watched me with wide eyes.

"Erik..." her voice broke and I darted towards her and wrapped my arms around her shaking shoulders.

"I'm so sorry Erik, this is all my fault," she repeated over and over again to me - her head buried in my neck.

I did not understand how she felt that this was her doing. He was clearly unbalanced. How was that her fault?

I soothed her as best as I could, rocking her gently and stroking her back at a loss for words.

With my face resting against her hair I felt the soft strands against my skin and remembered with vivid clarity that I no longer had my mask on. She had seen my face.

I drew away from her slowly and pushed her against the wall until she was leaning on it.

I needed to find my mask. She was clearly to upset to face the horror that is my face.

"I will return you to the dormitories mademoiselle," I told her, my heart breaking as I searched the floor from my position next to Christine for my mask.

"What...what do you mean...Erik?" she gasped and I looked to see her eyelashes glistening with tears as she stared at me wide eyed.

I quickly looked away from her and resumed my search.

"Erik what do you mean?" her voice was verging on panic now and I felt her hands gripping my shoulder to spin me to face her.

"What. Do. You. Mean?" she asked again speaking through her teeth.

Was she going to make me tell her?

"You have seen me Christine..." I drew in a deep breath trying to remain calm and collected, trying not to reveal my feelings. I had lost her. The vicomte had won. Not in the way he had wished but he had.

"No, no, no, no," she screamed at me wrapping her arms around me. I lost my balance and fell to the floor with her on top of me.

She rained kisses down on my face - my scarred and ugly face - the face that had made me a freak among freaks. A child only fit to be ignored by his mother.

She braced her hands at each side of my head.

"I have told you again and again Erik. Over and over. How much will it take for you to understand? For me to explain," she cried at me, tears fell down her cheeks in rivers.

"I love you. I fell in love with you before I even saw you. When you were only a voice. It was you that I fell in love with not your face but you. What is in here," she touched my chest just were my heart is.

"This shell means nothing to me, my love," she whispered hoarsely pressing her lips firmly to mine before resting her forehead against my own as we had done so many other times.

"What will it take for me to prove this to you?"

All the while I had been laying in shock.

Could it be that she really did not care about my face.

I truly believed that she did love me but there are some things that even love cannot look by. My own mother had not been able to see past my face and yet this wonderful girl could.

She had looked me straight in the eyes and told me that she loved me. She had touched my face and kissed it. She had not shied away and averted her gaze or begged me to cover it. Her eyes - now that the fear had ebbed away - were filled with the same love that I had grown used to seeing over the past months. The deepest and sincerest love I could ever imagine. And it was directed at me.

What she was saying was true.

She did not care about my appearance.

I wrapped my arms around her and crushed her to me, holding her close and tight.

"I love you Erik, with all of me. My whole soul. How can I prove this to you?" she asked into my shoulder.

I released her from my hold and she pulled away from me once again looking down at me, her eyes glistening.

I reached for her face and cupped her cheek in my palm. I smiled as her eyes closed and she leaned into my touch.

Christine loved me. Despite everything. She loved me. Years of fear dissolved with the knowledge.

Throughout the years she called me her angel, indeed she still did. But the truth was she was my angel and always had been. She had brought light to my world with her presence. She had accepted me for what I was at every turn.

"You don't need to do anything my love," I whispered and she opened her eyes and looked into my own.

I felt my heart overflow with the happiness that consumed me, with everything that she did and every word she spoke she showed her love for me.

"Just be yourself my love. You are all I need."

I carried her back to the lake, closing the entrance to the passage and not even sparing the still figure of the vicomte a second glance. He was alive and no doubt would be found.

Christine fell asleep in my arms as I carried her to my home - her head resting against my shoulders and her hand held tight to my jacket.

She was exhausted but would not release me from her hold when I moved to place her on the bed.

So that is how I found myself in this position. A monster with an angel asleep within my arms.

She has mumbled my name in her sleep and every time she has pressed herself closer to me, a small smile playing across her features.

She loves me for myself despite the mask and what it hid. I have found acceptance and love with my angel. I have found my heaven.

~~~The End~~~

**Awww. sob sob.**

**I hope the ending isn't too cheesy for you all. I tried to get the balance right and hopefully I have. **

**I hope that you have all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it and I would like to say thanks to my regular reviewers. Your reviews were so encouraging :).**

**Please let me know if you have enjoyed my story as a whole (or whatever).**

**Thank you for reading.**

**:-) xx**


	33. IMPORTANT PLEASE READ THANK YOU

**Author's Note**

**Hi everyone, have you been missing me? (ya don't have to answer that ;-))**

**Just to let you know that I am giving all the chapters a title and am working through the chapters and fixing the spelling. I really must apologise for some of the mistakes - they are so obvious I'm ashamed for missing them - I think I must have gone letter blind or something...**

**I have made several attempts to start a sequal to Phantom Diaries but I just can't seem to get it right but I'll keep trying.**

**So anyway here is a bit of the first chapter of a new idea that I have and your opinions would be greatly appreciated - I am hoping that this will maybe kick my brain into gear for a sequal for Phantom Diaries. **

**The full chapter should be up in a few days under the title "Phantom Legacy". It will be a bit of a time travel story (come on how many of us have honselty wanted to be zapped straight into the film or our favourite book :) - me me me)**

**If after the first chapter is up anyone has a better title idea I would be more than happy to hear it. **

**So...here we go...**

**ENJOY x**

_Christine stood still as her loves lips trailed along her throat - leaving a trail of fire on her skin. She felt her breath hitch and her stomach tighten as he breathed in her ear, whispering his love to her. _

_His hands gripped her waist tightly – almost painfully – as he held her to his chest, her back pressed tightly to him. She could feel his heart beating strong and steady through the thick material of her gown and her own heart quickened in response both to his proximity and kisses. _

_She turned slowly in his arms and he raised his lips from her neck to smile down at her. She raised a hand and caressed his face, his eyes closing as he leaned into his touch. His mask glowed in the faint light that streamed through the window. _

"_I love you so much Erik, never doubt that,"_

_A smile covered the face of the man before her and she could only smile deeper in return. He took a deep breath as if to speak – _

_Beep, beep, beep._

Christine sprung awake as the incessant alarm of her bedside clock shattered her dream, breaking the spell that had been woven during her sleep. Brushing the hair irritably from her eyes she searched blindly for the button that would kill the horrible noise that had dragged her unceremoniously from her slumber.

"Stupid machine." she grumbled, her fumbling fingers finally finding the correct switch.

She slumped back onto her bed as the noise was cut off mid shriek.

"Ahh...silence."

She snuggled back into her duvet and burrowed into her pillow and began to focus her mind on her dream.

What was with the weird dreams lately?

They all seemed so real and when she woke in the morning she could feel her skin tingle where her dream man had touched her. She had never before dreamed of guys. The boys at school were so immature and young in their actions and speech that they only annoyed her and the younger teachers whom all the girls had crushes on didn't really appeal to her either.

"Christine get your backside out of bed this minute or you are going to be late for school," her mother's voice screamed to her up the stairs cutting through her thoughts and waking her more thoroughly than any alarm clock setting.

"Christine Chagny you get yourself down here now,"

She cringed and rolled out her bed making her way wearily to the bathroom and setting the shower running. Today was going to be a long day

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**Christine Chagny?? Hmm..?**

**I know it is a bit short but the actual chapter will be a lot longer as this is more like the skeleton of it.**

**Thanks :)**

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