Phantom of the Opera 1. Peace Falling

_**SAFE IN HIS ARMS**_

His flat was enrobed in an ethereal blue from the moonlight with the snaking shadows of shivering tree branches as he carried me in. Sleep threatened to take over me as I draped my arms around his slender neck… it had been a long night. It was a night that I had always dreamed about but feared above all, and now we were past it. The ghost of a man who had long haunted my singing career had captured me and in a terrifying heartbeat I was his prisoner, losing all hope of ever feeling the warmth of the sun or of unspoiled affection. I had known he had a fierce obsession with me, but if I had not, it would still have been ever so clear when my fiancé appeared at the gate of the phantom's cold, dripping lair. Viciously that dark and cruel man attacked my fiancé, uncaringly tying him to the rusted, mossy gate. I watched in shrill pain as he tightened the noose. He threatened that, if I did not choose to love him, the murderous ghost, then my fiancé would die. I knew that even if I chose him, he would not simply release the trigger rope and release my hero… but it was worth trying, if anything to elongate the life of my love. I was bitterly willing to spend every unending day with that beast if it meant that my love could spend every one of his days in peace. As my lips made contact with his, my face almost contorted with disgust. As I pulled away, he looked no more convinced, but in a last stand to save my fiancé, I kissed him again. Good lord, his broken lips almost tore mine, but thankfully he pulled away. He pulled away… and released us. I had not expected that, but took the opportunity as it was given to me.

And now, my fears and nightmares of almost a year were behind me. I almost didn't know what to do with myself, I had been so focused on hiding from him after I discovered who he was. Here I was, in the arms of my love, quickly falling asleep. I watched the shadows on the walls dance from behind his warm shoulder. Gently and ever so carefully, he laid me down on a red velvet chaise across from an enormous window. My eyes had grown so heavy that they were now falling slowly downwards and as my lips parted, my breath grew slow in a tired peace. Raoul, the one I loved as purely as rain before it strikes the earth, knelt down before me and clasped my hand, while caressing my relaxed fist with his thumb. The corners of both our mouths curled upwards as he pulled himself towards me and placed a sweet, comforting kiss on my forehead.

"I'll be right back."

He almost whispered it as he got up, went over to the door of the flat and proceeded to remove his boots. His jacket followed, thrown effortlessly onto the rack that stood near the door. Raoul then strode over to a corner of the room where a gracefully designed wooden chair stood, and he grabbed it and pulled it right next to the chaise where I now lay. "Just in case," he assured me. He positioned himself on the seat and leaned forward, gently fingering a lock of my hair. I smiled warmly at him as I finally succumbed to the powers of peaceful slumber.

The sun stung my eyes as they slowly peeled open. I shielded them with my hand, and shifted my weight so that I could sit. Raoul had fallen asleep, clearly, and asleep he remained. His head hung lazily so that his fine locks of hair covered his face, and his hands lay relaxed on his lap. It can't have been too comfortable, sleeping in that stiff wooden chair. I reached behind me, stretching to pull the curtain closed by the rope that hung from the curtain bar. The rope… my hands shied away from the rope, as I relived the memory of having to untie my now resting fiancé from that bitter gate. After a moment taken to compose myself, I reached once again for the drawing rope to close the forest green curtains and block out the sun's beating rays.

"Christine," cooed a voice from behind me. Raoul had awoken, and as I turned away from the curtains to face him, his face contained a sleepy grin. "Raoul, it's an amazing day," I replied. He rose and sat on the edge of the chaise next to me, then proceeding to caress my face in his loving hand. "It always is after a storm," he replied wittingly. It was a good sign that he still had his sense of humor after last night. There had been no storm, no rain last night, but I understood with perfect clarity what he was meaning. We had been living in a storm for a year, and now the sun had finally won through the clouds. I didn't need to worry about the phantom haunting my steps any longer. "What do you say we go outside and catch breakfast at the café of your choosing?" Raoul proposed. "In the same clothes as I am wearing this moment?" my alienated expression sparked more wit to emanate from him. "Well you could go naked…" he retorted, a big, joking grin on his face. My mouth grew wide in playful disgust at his comment, but he quickly recovered. "Well, I'm afraid you'll have to start out in these clothes, but we could drop by the opera dormitories to pick up your old ones." The opera house… it was sure to be well charred and broken after the fire. And even though I knew that the phantom had run off, I was still scared to return there. In a more melancholy tone, I replied "I don't think we'll find them there, Raoul." Suddenly he understood, as though he had forgotten about the fire. "Well, we'll just have to go shopping for some new ones, then!" I smiled. I didn't want to take advantage of Raoul's fortune like this but I truly didn't think that my clothes from the opera house would be in any condition other than severely burnt.

The gentleman that he was raised to be, Raoul gave me one of his cloaks to wear over my crisp, dirty dress. The phantom's wedding dress… I had no choice but to hide it. It was a beautiful dress, to be sure, with the most intricate beading and embroidery I'd ever seen. But the memory remained, and so long as I had to hide the memory, I had to hide the dress. Raoul's arm held me close to him, rubbing my shoulder as if to keep me warm. It felt so strange to be walking down these narrow streets without any intention related to the opera house; I hadn't done so since before I was seven and my father's death led me to be raised there. I didn't realize I had slowed down until Raoul brought me out of my daydream to point to a store that I seemed to like. Perhaps I could have liked the store, I hadn't been in it before, but on display was a dress very similar to the one I wore in my first operatic performance. Together, with Raoul still holding me near to him, we entered the shop and looked around at dresses that I could possibly buy. I must have been frustrating my fiancé, because I never gave a definite answer as to what dresses I wanted. I always kept that beautiful white dress in the corner of my eye, and I was so distracted by the memory of it that I couldn't think of anything else. But who could blame me, it brought back painful memories of my naïve belief that the phantom was actually the angel that my father had promised me. I was so naïve… so over trusting… so confused.

We ended up exiting the store with one dress. Raoul had caught my attraction to it, and I couldn't find any willingness in myself to say no, so he bought it for me. He bought me the memory of the years before all of this terror… and I couldn't blame him. In his mind he was just buying me a dress that I appeared to like, the right thing to do.

The wind had disappeared with the silent stillness of the late afternoon. We had nearly filled the carriage that so devoutly followed Raoul and I as we comfortably shopped for dresses that were to my liking. I couldn't say that I had really paid much attention, the dresses Raoul had bought for me were lovely, but my mind was too far lost in the world of my naiveté that was born with the sight of that white dress. The solid cobblestone under my feet was beginning to take its toll as I now willingly rested my head on Raoul's shoulder. Indicating that we were near to his flat, he pulled out my hand and kissed it.

However, one sight woke me from my tired dream. A slender figure of a blonde ballerina was running desperately up the road. Tears stained her porcelain cheeks; and her furrowed brow and distorted expression clearly indicated that something was wrong. The white skirt that she wore flew up as her normally graceful feet gave out under her. Her long, golden hair was now in tangles, but still bore its signature bow.

"Meg!" I called out as my head perked up from Raoul's shoulder and I ran to her side. She seemed stunned at first, eyes wide, but almost immediately she threw herself at me into a desperate embrace. "Christine, oh, Christine!" were the words that slipped through her broken sobs. Raoul was now standing just behind me, pure concern painted on his face. "What's happened, Meg?" he begged to know. Meg pulled away from the embrace, and roughly wiped her hand under her nose. She was silent. "Meg…? What's wrong?" I echoed. Her gaze fell to the ground as she began to speak. "I don't know where she is, Christine… I don't know where my mother is!" It was my turn to be silent. My eyes widened as my mind strove to understand this news. Raoul crouched beside me and rested his hand on my back. "Madame Giry? She's disappeared?" he clarified, in his usual calm yet heroic tone. With one final sniff, she nodded. I offered her my hand to help her up as I myself rose back to my feet. "She's not at the opera house?" I asked, with slight hope that Meg had not checked there, even though I knew she would have scoured it. "I don't know, I had thought that I had searched the whole building… oh, Christine, what if she was kidnapped?" Kidnapped… for whatever reason you may like, the first face to return to my mind with that word was the Phantom. I took her into my arms and held her tight in hope that it might comfort her, even in the slightest. "If you would like, you may stay at my flat with Christine and I until we find her again," Raoul offered. She retreated from my arms and nodded. "If you're sure…" she confirmed. I smiled a weak smile at her, and Raoul put his arm around my shoulders and, in a comforting gesture, rubbed it gently. He planted a kiss on the side of my head as we led Meg to his flat. The drama had not ended quite yet, as previously thought… and I knew now that it would not end for a very long time.

"You probably want some blankets, right?" I asked a now dry-faced Meg. We both stood near the chaise where I had slept the night before. "Sure," she replied. "Alright, just stay here, I'll go ask Raoul where they are."

I lifted my dress to run up the red oak stairs towards Raoul's bedroom. As I stepped over the top stair, I found him. He looked exhausted, dropping his head and resting his hands on the windowsill at the other end of the room. Gracefully I strode over to him, a compassionate smile on my face. "Raoul, we'll find her," I encouraged, but his face still didn't exude confidence. "Christine, you know where we have to search," he said, with an almost bitter tone in his voice. "We're not going back there." Yes, I knew that the caves that had developed into the home of a monster were the most likely place that Madame Giry would be found. "Raoul…" my voice began to break as my throat tightened in anguish. "I don't want to go back there either, but it wouldn't be fair to send Meg off by herself. God knows what might happen to her, and at least with us there she might have some hope." Raoul's head dropped a little further, and his eyes were glossed over with newborn tears that I knew he would not let fall. He suddenly lifted himself from the windowsill and walked over to a corner of the room near the window, hand grasping his hair in frustration. In a weak attempt to comfort him, I began to speak. "We've been through the caves before, Raoul. I've been there twice; we would guide Meg. And the creatures in the lake aren't all that frightening…" But Raoul cut me off. "I don't care about the creatures of the lake, Christine!" he spouted as he sharply turned around. "I care about the creature who murders all that's good! I don't want to have to face him again, Christine, I don't want to…" his voice trailed off. "I don't want to die."

My heart couldn't take his broken words, so I strode quickly over to him and held him in my arms, as closely as I could. I could hear his sobs now, and feel the wet of his tears falling on my shoulder. I didn't want him to die either; I loved him far too much. But still I knew that Madame Giry deserved protection as well. "What's done is done. I do not think he will try to kill you again." I whispered these words to give him hope. For once, I was his protector and he, the child who needed someone to take him in under their wing.

We broke apart, and, after a moment of silence, he spoke. "I'm sorry, what did you need?" I brushed away the last tears on my cheek. "Meg needs blankets for the night; I was wondering where they were." He took me under his arm and guided me to a closet at the other side of the bedroom, just next to the stairs. Raoul opened the wooden door, and pulled out a couple blankets from one of the higher shelves. "There you go," he said. "Thank you," I said as he handed them to me. He turned to face me, and as lightly as a feather, he caressed my face. "I love you." A weak smile crept its way onto my face as he pulled me in for a short, sweet kiss. I continued to smile, and took one last look at him as I carefully stepped down the stairs.

The surreal lighting from the candle next to the chaise interrupted the now familiar shadows that dance across the wall of Raoul's living room. Meg and I had spent the last couple hours sharing our tales of what had occurred the night before. There were a couple things that we could laugh at now, because it was over; like how soaked Meg's trousers were after trudging through the murky water. But there were also moments of deafening silence, when reminders came of events that preferably would be forgotten. There was no doubt in my mind now that we would never forget that night. But I had hoped that we would forget that that night had not ended yet. I would not mention Mme. Giry's disappearance, and neither would Meg. That is, until after I rose to go to Raoul's bedroom. Meg pulled the thick down blanket closer to her chin as her tiny voice rang out.

"You don't have to come with me," she peeped. Immediately, I sat right back down on the edge of the chaise. "What do you mean? Of course I do," I squeaked in a shameful attempt to hide how I truly felt. "Christine, I… I heard you and Raoul this afternoon," she said, a deep rose color flooding her cheeks. "I don't want to make you come with me if it's him that we might face," explained Meg as she propped herself up to sit. Her compassion was overbearing, too much to take. "Meg, I wouldn't be able to live if I knew that I had sent you down there all alone and then something happened." Yes, I knew that not even Raoul would be able to console me if Meg had died, and it was my fault. She was my best friend; she has been so since Mme. Giry introduced us when I moved into the dormitories. "I'll be careful, I won't let anything happen to me, Christine," she coaxed, but I had to stand firm. "That is not in your control when you're down there, Meg. Believe me, you are better to have Raoul and I to guide you." She finally gave in, and laid herself back down onto the chaise.

Suddenly Raoul appeared, wearing a thin, ivory linen shirt, and brown trousers. He was barefoot, so his feet made no sound as he walked over to me. He hugged my shoulders and breathed the words: "it's time to get some rest." I smiled, and mouthed a "good night" to Meg, who smiled and closed her eyes.

I followed Raoul up to his bedroom, with him carrying a small lantern. The dim glow that had been coming from Meg's candle disappeared, leaving that lantern to be the only source of light besides the moon. He walked carefully over towards his bed and placed the lantern on the beautifully carved night table that stood by it. Raoul rolled back the thin sheets as I almost glided over to the other side of the bed. Using my arms to support my weight, I sat down on the puffy down mattress. Following Raoul's lead, I turned in and slipped my feet under the covers, and proceeded to pull the sheets over my chest. The mattress bounced a little as Raoul shifted his weight so that he could turn to face me. I also turned to face him, and he began to stroke my cheek. "Well, our second long day is over," he said with a small grin on his face. To see his wit once more was enormously encouraging. "We have yet to wait out the third," I replied, my gaze falling. Raoul pulled my head into his chest and hugged it close to him. I raised my hand to rest it on his surrounding arm as he rested his head on mine. Slowly, I pulled away a slight distance and looked into his eyes. They read both fear and love, and such combination added a glossy cover to his unending blue eyes. I smiled warmly, and he pulled me in to meet his lips to mine. My heart began to race and soar and streams of tears escaped my eyes, as we both seemed to realize that tomorrow could be our last hours of living. He knew, and I knew, that we would have to make this night count.


	2. Nightmare and Voices

Safe in His Arms, Part _2_ Asleep in peaceful arms, my mind was anything but. In the world that exists only in my mind, it was as though all logic of time was lost, and Raoul and I had returned to that cave. Not simply the cave, however, but the ghastly moments where I was forced to decide what was more valuable- my fiancé's life, or my selfish love for him.

I could almost feel my chest rising and falling quicker and quicker with each passing second of the dream. "This is the choice! This is the point of no return!" the Phantom's growling voice called out. There I was, standing helpless on the shore while the ghost yanked once more on the noose to remind me of what would happen should I refuse him. "You try my patience, make your choice!" he barked. In reality, I had gathered up the courage to make an intelligent decision and kiss him… but in the dream, my feet seemed to be locked to the ground and my body formed into stone. "As you wish," were the bitter words that echoed in my ears for what seemed like ages. Raoul's eyes screamed desperate songs of fear, and his mouth drawn wide as if to say something… but the pressure on his throat refused to allow it. My cheeks burned as hot tears ripped down them and onto the pillow where I dreamed. My breath grew short and unsteady as the final scene played out. With a swift thrust of his arm, the rope tightened to its extreme, the knot lifted, and all I could hear was a sharp swallow as Raoul took his last breath. Yes, his last breath… my heart burned and hammered against the restrains of my chest with the sight of him. The noose was cutting vicious red burns under his chin, and his eyes were closed. There he hung, almost crucified with his hands still tied to the gate. I couldn't see his eyes anymore, his eyelids had curtained them; and so it should be, for if I could not see his eyes, I could not see life in him. And there was none. 

My entire face was washed with warm tears as my eyes shot open and I caught my breath. Frantically, just to be sure, my eyes darted around the room to make sure that Raoul was still near. Indeed he was, and apparently I had woken him. A concerned expression darkened his face as he cupped my chin with his hand, wiping away my tears. Desperately, and very unladylike, I threw myself onto him. Wrapping my arms tightly around his neck and grasping at his hair, the comfort of his bare skin against mine was intensifying my fear of his loss. Here, in the warmth of his naked shoulder, I sobbed loudly, crying out all the tears that I had in me. No words needed to be spoken, for no words would ever comfort me in the same way that his protective embrace could.

Bless her heart, Meg was all prepared the next morning; hair brushed and tied up, dress cleaned (as best she could), and shoes waiting by the door. I felt a little light-headed from dehydration as I slowly made my way down the stairs. It stunned me as I turned the corner to see Meg completely ready when I was in a simple nightgown that I had thrown on (it was the nearest thing to the bed). Not only was she ready, she was preparing breakfast! My eyes grew wide in pleasant surprise as I witnessed her pulling out a loaf of bread from its brown paper bag and cutting the butter into thin rectangles.

"Good morning!" I said cheerfully. She turned her head quickly towards me and smiled. Suddenly her cheeks went red as she realized what she was doing. "Oh, I'm sorry, Christine, I hope you don't mind!" she cried as her hand relaxed to lower the knife she was holding. "No, of course not! Do whatever you need, everyone needs breakfast," I exhorted, laughing a little at her shame. She giggled a little as well, smiling a warm smile as she sighed. "Especially today." Suddenly she turned to face me with a wondering brow. "How was your night? Your eyes are terribly red," she pointed out, still continuing to slice the bread into perfectly equal portions. "I'll be alright," I coaxed. I knew she wouldn't believe me, but she wasn't one to argue. I stepped across the pool of sunlight that hovered on the floor towards that famous chaise. Lazily, I lay down on it, using my elbow on the armrest to keep my torso upright. I sighed, and my eyes closed a little bit in contemplation. It was going to be an interesting day.

It was a quiet ride to the opera house, in Raoul's carriage; quiet, save for a moment taken to pray for our fates. I tried to be strong in holding back my tears as the three of us leaned in, bowed our heads and clasped each other's hands. However, our mind-settling ritual was interrupted when the carriage came to a jerking stop. I took a deep breath as we all took in the sight before us; the opera house, which had lost all luminosity that it had previously possessed, was severely charred, denying the marble pillars their original glory. Raoul was the first to step out, lending a hand to us ladies as we also exited the black carriage.

Raoul talked to the guards of the building, and then gestured that it was all right for Meg and I to enter. The courtyard was laced with all sorts of ashes and opera programs that were now being tossed around by the wind. Meg ran ahead of us, pulling the blackened main door as far open as she could. "Come on, we must hurry!" she called. Slowly I realized that I had subconsciously began to slow down, with hopes that it might prolong the wait before entering that haunted building.

We finally entered the building, meeting Meg in the foyer of the once-grand opera. We agreed that the best path to take was through my old dressing room, and not the way that Madame Giry had guided Raoul to take. We couldn't risk any more trapdoors falling out beneath us. Strangely, as we approached the old dressing room, it appeared to be untouched by the fire. The door had seen its share of smoke damage, but the rest of the room had not been corrupted by ash or charring. At this, I carefully led Raoul and Meg to the mirror on the far side of the room. I drew my fingers across it, pressing against it. "If only I could remember how he brought me through here…" I muttered, when suddenly Meg slapped her hand on my shoulder. "I know how," she said, eyes focused on the mirror. She dug her fingers into one of the creases between the mirror and the frame, and pulled it with a little effort. Raoul seemed stunned. "How did you know to do that?" he questioned. "Once, right after Christine disappeared, I suppose that he had left the mirror partially open, and I ventured into it," she explained, a hint of shame powdering her sweet voice. "My maman didn't allow me to go very far, however… and now… now I know why," she said somberly. I smiled weakly at her, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see Raoul stepping through the mirror's opening. "Raoul, wait!" I cried out. Meg and I both jogged to meet him, me lifting my dress as I did so. It was, perhaps, not a smart choice to have worn a long dress, but it was all I had.

As we somewhat blindly guided ourselves through the dark tunnels, two voices rang in my ears. I could not hear the words, but I recognized one to be the usually sharp voice of Madame Giry. Her voice was still stern but had lost some of its authority as we seemed to draw closer and closer. "We must be near," I pointed out. "Why do you say that?" Raoul inquired, now holding one of the many torches that lined the tunnels. "Do you not hear those voices?" Meg stopped and froze, attempting to hear what I was hearing. "There are no voices, Christine," she said, an alienated expression on her face. Oh, how confused I was! Raoul stopped as well, turning to face me. "Try to ignore them," he said in a compassionate tone. I knew he could not hear them, but now I realized that it was the Phantom playing with my mind. Raoul took my hand and smiled at me as we continued down the seemingly never-ending tunnel.

The voices in my head grew louder as we progressed. This time, they were joined by my own deafening thoughts, reminders of how I always used to sing "he'll always be there, singing songs in my head, he'll always be there, singing songs in my head…" It frightened me to know that the Phantom knew we were near. And very near we were, for we had finally reached the lake, but there was no gondola. "Looks like your new dress is going to get a little wet, Christine," Raoul noted. But how could I care when we were almost at the place where we would find Madame Giry… and the Phantom?


	3. Drawing Near to Evil

Safe in His Arms Pt. 3 

I felt so clumsy wading through the mist-laden waters of the lake wearing such a long dress. The voices in my head were continuing to grow in volume, the words becoming clearer. They were still undecipherable as specific words, but I could now hear the odd consonant popping in. The setting was beginning to drive me mad, with the small fish of the lake dancing around my feet and persistently biting at my ankles, even when I kicked them away. Raoul had been such a savior thus far, whispering words of encouragement or even simple conversation to keep my mind at ease.

"Those fish are nasty little things, aren't they?" he joked as he held me under his arm protectively. "When we find her, ten francs says that my maman will complain about the bite marks on my legs," Meg betted as she swatted at a small red mark on her calf. It was true, Madame Giry was very strict about the condition of her dancers- especially Meg. I smiled at their wit, but suddenly came to a halt as the voices became very sharp and very loud. "You know nothing of hell!" a voice, recognizable as the Phantom's pounded out in my mind, followed by a shriek from Madame Giry. I let out a shriek of my own, breathing very hard indeed. I closed my hands over my ears as if I could somehow block it out, but it went quieter again. Raoul turned to face me, and Meg as well. Raoul grabbed my arms, his face stricken with concern. "Christine!" Meg cried out. "Are you okay?" Raoul asked, knowing that I couldn't be. "What's wrong, what happened?" he continued, urging me to answer. All I could muster was "We're very close, Raoul."

From then on, our trip through the knee-high waters was almost silent. Meg quietly hummed a ballet tune to keep our spirits high. I could barely hear her with the voices swirling in my head faster than a hurricane, but tried my hardest to smile at her attempt at compassion. Every beat in my heart grew louder and faster with every trailing step we made towards that infamous cave. Suddenly the brick walls turned to stone, with beastly statues posted along either side. I knew we didn't have much further, for the voices were becoming yet more persistent and clear.

"Why do you fear me?"

"I do not fear you."

"Then why do you fight? A butterfly cannot escape the grasp of a wolf! And why is that, do you think?"

There was a pause… I prayed to God that Madame Giry would not make the mistake of trying to be brave. But whom was I kidding; bravery is in that woman's blood permanently. The voices continued;

"I am no butterfly. I will _not_ be crushed by you."  
"You saved me. You have compassion for me. That, good Madame is your worst weakness. I would not be so sure of your strength."  
"I would not be so sure of your logic! I lost compassion for you when you stole Christine away!"  
"Do not _speak_ of that name, wench!"

My eyes widened with fear for Madame Giry as he let out an intense cry that resembled a lion's roar, combined with the sound of a chorus of demons. My head began to spin, my eyes clouded over as fear raced through my veins. There is a level of volume, which the mind can take, and this far surpassed that. A savage cry escaped my lips, and suddenly I felt the cold of the water rush over me as I fell from Raoul's arm. I heard his voice, just a murmur over the howl of the Phantom; "Christine!" he cried out. "Christine…" he called out once again, and I heard a strange tone in his voice. It was the voice of defeat. I strained to speak, but my throat had closed on me, and suddenly I couldn't see Raoul and Meg standing over me. I couldn't see anything…

I could have sworn that I had died in that moment, except for the fact that I woke up in what must have been about an hour later. In that hour, I had lost all my senses. I couldn't speak, hear, see, smell, or even feel. Everything was dark, and it was as though I was floating through the abyss. But when I woke, my mind was disappointed to realize that the blinding light it had expected when my eyes opened was not there. Instead, there was a faint orange glow, and the slow sound of water dripping. I suddenly caught a glimpse of an organ and sharply I spurred to life. The sight before me was all too familiar… the delicate swan bed, the chorus of candles that lit the entire area, the loose papers that littered the floor of the cave… all was familiar, except for the fact that Meg was sitting on the bed next to me, holding a damp cloth.

"He's not here, Christine," she explained. Raoul suddenly appeared from around the corner, carrying a bucket of water. That bucket crashed to the floor, splashing around all its contents as Raoul realized that I was now awake. He ran to the other side of the bed, throwing himself on it. Excitedly, he grabbed my hand and held it in his lap. "How are you feeling?" he asked. "A little dizzy… and very confused." I really had to wonder what we were doing here, and why both of them felt so at home here. "About what?" he asked. I raised my brow as my eyes quickly traced the area and then returned to meet his. "Oh," he said, reaching that place of understanding. Raoul had begun to tell the story, but eager Meg cut in. "Oh, Christine, it was so frightening! When you fainted, I mean. But Raoul was such a gentleman and picked you up and carried you until we got here. You looked so dead, Christine, I was so scared for you! And Raoul was just as scared, you should have seen how close he held you when we finally made it to this cave." At this, I smiled at Raoul to express my thanks. He simply smiled and nodded in assurance, and caressed my hand with his thumb. Meg continued her story, as excitedly as a small child: "Of course, we were expecting to see the Phantom when we arrived, but we were quite shocked to see that he was not here! I made sure to search the entire area for him, but I couldn't find him, Christine. And it's very lucky, because you needed aid!" I loved her charisma, but at the same time, my heart fell at the thought that we had not yet found Madame Giry.

"Are you well enough to stand?" inquired Raoul. "I think…" I said as I slowly threw my legs off of the bed. Meg jumped off of the bed and out of the way as I carefully pushed myself up to stand. However, Meg quickly dove to catch me as my knees faltered. I was terribly disappointed; I didn't want to be a hindrance to our search! I struggled to stand again, but Raoul's strong arms prevented me from hurting myself again. "I'll take her, thank you Meg," he said as he scooped me up. One arm under my legs, one arm keeping my back upright, I had never felt so safe. I hung my arms around his neck and rested my head on his shoulder. Meg suddenly looked to Raoul with an inquisitive expression. "Should we search that one broken mirror?" she asked. "I thought you had searched the whole area?" I questioned, not wanting to have had them lie to me. "We did, except one broken mirror that seemed to have a tunnel beyond it. We didn't want to leave you here, that would not have been safe," Raoul explained. I nodded a small nod and lifted my head to face Raoul. "Let's go."

Meg, being the eager child that she is, went ahead of us. Raoul shifted his arms beneath me to get a more comfortable grip, and entered through the broken mirror sideways, so as to fit both of us. I ducked my head so that I would not be sliced by one of the dangling shards that hung from the top. The tunnel here was in much worse condition than the others that we had traveled through; being dark, grimy, laden with moss, with rather disgusting moisture. I could tell that it hadn't really been used, and that it was never really meant to be. I could almost hear Raoul's boots sticking to the floor from the combination of dirty water and moss that almost covered the floor of the tunnel… but above his footsteps I could hear his heart beating. It was beating fast.

His stern expression gave no sign of fear, but because I could feel his heart beat against mine, I had to do or say something to comfort him. Gently, I pulled his face in to face mine, and left a small kiss to linger on his lips, followed by a compassionate smile. Raoul also smiled as he took a deep breath and we carried on down that dark tunnel.

All of a sudden, dust-inhabited daylight leaked through a space at the end of the tunnel. The daylight was broken by a flickering shadow. It was the shadow of a man. Meg dropped back, and clung to Raoul and I as we approached the ethereal light.

"Come, Come closer," whispered words rang throughout the tunnel. Raoul's fingers dug into my back, pulling me closer to him.

"Christine…" The Phantom was calling me. I could not let myself be entranced again. But somehow, I could hear soft music echoing throughout the chambers of my mind. It began slow, but began to build up into a beautiful, romantic melody that resembled Mozart's Lacrimosa. I dug my fingers into Raoul's hair, and buried my face in the groove between his neck and shoulder as if to fight away the music. It only got louder and louder, and Raoul's heart only raced faster and faster, and Meg only clung tighter and tighter. "Christine, I'm frightened…"

"Don't be frightened, Meg," I spoke brokenly. "Don't be frightened…don't be frightened…" I was speaking to myself now. Raoul now fought hard to keep a stern and steady expression as we were now but a few steps away from the source of the light. I could barely breathe; he was holding me so tight. But now, as I turned to get a glimpse of our fate, I saw him.


	4. Pursuit of Reality

Safe in His Arms, Pt. 4 

There he stood. At the base of an immensely tall room, the Phantom glared at us with a chilling grin. Thin, cloudy rays of daylight coming from a window near the ceiling were interrupted by the Phantom's dark figure, which cast a shadow on the clay walls. Stained glass portraits hung randomly along the full height of the wall, portraits of angels in stained glass that would never see sunlight flood through them. The phantom's distorted face and thin, wiry hair deeply contrasted the beauty of these angels; and his darkly pleasured expression awoke fear in me once more as he stood with his gloved hand on the top of his scabbard.

"Welcome."

Raoul pulled my head into him, and I couldn't see anything.

"What a pleasure, you have returned my songbird to me. Did you tire of her? Did she tire of you?"

Raoul spoke no words. I heard a soft chuckle coming from the Phantom's direction.

"Or perhaps you would like to have revenge on me; after all, I did try to kill you…" his sarcastic tone sprouted hate in my heart as I fought Raoul's grip to look at the Phantom.

"We are not here to discuss your crude nature," Raoul sharply retorted. "Where is Madame Giry?"

"I will show you. Come, leave my songbird and her friend here."

My eyes shot wide in terror at the thought of leaving Raoul to be alone with the Phantom.

"Why should they stay? What might they see that only I deserve to see?"

Raoul stood strong.

"As you wish, I will take only Christine."

I could feel the cold of the Phantom's leather glove on my shoulder, and I could feel Raoul sharply pull me back.

"No! I will go with you. But as much as I distrust your word, you must promise me that no harm will come to them," Raoul bargained. My mind pounded out the word "no!" over and over. He couldn't go with the Phantom! The Phantom would surely kill him…

The dim light broke through the darkness of Raoul's shoulder as I felt him lay me down at the base of the conical room. Meg clung to my shoulder as we both sat at the far end of the room. Raoul began to rise away from me, but I grabbed his arm and pulled him back down to my level.

"Raoul, don't go… he'll kill you…" I pleaded quietly.

"Do not fear for me, love; let me fear for myself. I promise you, you will see me again whether it's in heaven or back in this haunted room. Meg is here; she will comfort you if it gets to be too much. I love you," he said. His words tore me apart as I breathed them in through a swollen throat and watery eyes. For all I knew, they might as well have been the last words he ever spoke to me.

He pulled me in for a tight embrace and I dug my fingers into his back because I could not hold him close enough. Finally he pulled away and laid one last kiss on my lips. I wish he would have stayed there, resting his lips on mine, but the Phantom was getting anxious, and clearly a little jealous.

"Monsieur, it is time we leave," he said, breaking through our farewell. I gave Raoul one last tear-washed smile as I watched the Phantom grab a torch and gesture for Raoul to follow. The Phantom started into the tunnel ahead of my fiancé and soon, both were out of sight. I leaned into Meg's welcoming arms and sobbed for all I was worth. 

"Oh, Christine…"

Time was miserably cruel in that slim but enormous room. Delusions flourished in front of my eyes; delusions similar to the dream I had had last night. They were delusions of death, Raoul's death… as if I were actually there, I could see the Phantom just pulling out his sword and with one swift swing of the arm- no. I won't think about it. But in the silence of that room, terror floated on the air like a deadly gas.

The tunnel entrance glared at me, tempting me with thoughts of heroism and seeing my love alive. I noticed the tips of a grate near the top of the entrance. The Phantom had left the door open for us… but what would he have in store for Meg and I should we attempt to follow? What would he have in store for Raoul?

Suddenly a shriek echoed along the walls of that room. It was Meg.

"Get away, you little creature!" she said angrily as she shooed away a rather large rat. Rats… right. I had forgotten about that pleasant addition to the Phantom's lair. Suddenly I felt something cold and wet nudging at my thigh. I shied away from it, using my arms to pull my weight away from it. On one side of the room, there was a large crack at the base, where two more rats crept out.

"Meg, over there!" I pointed to the crevice. She turned her head and froze in horror as we heard hundreds of little squeaks coming from that crack.

"Meg, we have to get out of here, now!" I urgently whispered.

"But you can't even stand, let alone walk or run…"

"Let me try!"

I pressed my left hand hard into the ground and grabbed hold of Meg's hand with my right as she rose to help me up. The voices had been quiet; I had time to regain my strength. With that renewed strength, I forced myself up as the rat population congregated at our feet. Carefully, I took a step; then another, and another. Finally Meg let go of my hand. I stumbled a little, but swung myself back up again and began to run down that dark corridor. Meg finally tore her vision off of the increasing swarm of rats and began to follow me. 

Suddenly I noticed little bits of torn paper all along the tunnel. I stopped; and as Meg caught up to me, she paused as well. I picked up the first bit of paper and tried to decipher what it said. The piece that I had picked up appeared to read half of the word "Gala", in a familiar font. I strode, bent over, to the next piece, which read "Chagny". It was Raoul's invitation to the New Year's Masquerade! Oh, Raoul, he had left a trail for Meg and I to follow!

"Meg, it's Raoul's invitation! If we follow these pieces, perhaps it would take us right to him and Madame Giry!" I said excitedly. Perhaps there was hope, after all.

"Let's go, then, and hurry!" she said, a sincere smile spread across her face. She grabbed my hand and began to pull me over the trail of papers. I stumbled once or twice, and she slowed down, but I told her never to slow down. Raoul and Madame Giry deserve our best efforts!

It had been a few minutes of running, and finally we had slowed to a walk. The bits of paper were beginning to get smaller and more sparse as Raoul must have been running out of paper. The trail had led us through a tunnel that had branched off of the dark one we had been through earlier. I had not noticed an entrance, but that may be because I could not see much past Raoul's shoulder. 

"What do you think we'll find?" Meg asked, breaking our eager silence.

"I don't know, Meg, but I hope for the best."

We were almost there, a corner in the tunnel revealed a familiar orange glow that promised there would be a room at the other end of the corner. We were almost there…

As we turned that final corner to meet our destination, mixed feelings arose in me. In a dark, cave-like room that had no furnishings except for the small candles that reached out from the cave walls, my Raoul and Meg's mother were found. Raoul was crouched in the corner next to the entrance, clutching his head. Madame Giry simply stood solemnly by a pool of water that must have been an offshoot of the underground lake. Dried tears stained both of their cheeks as they failed to notice our presence.

"Maman!" Meg called out. Madame Giry remained unfazed. Meg strode over to where her mother stood, and put her hand on her shoulder. Madame Giry turned her head to face her daughter, face frozen into a strange expression of fear and submission. "Maman, I am here…"

Meanwhile, I crouched down to Raoul's level. Something wasn't right. His expression was contorted in frustration as he grasped at his hair. I cupped his face in my hands, and smiled at him, beckoning some sort of reaction. His lips parted, and he tore away from me as he stood up and began to pace. I could hear his voice, though small, whisper "no…" over and over. He walked over to a wall, and crushed himself up against it, kneading the uneven rock surface into his hands. Suddenly, something struck me… where was the phantom?

I looked around, and though the phantom's presence could be felt very strongly, he was not there. What had he done to Raoul and Madame Giry that would torture them so? I watched in agony as Raoul's wide eyes failed to blink. They were glazed over; it was as though he was focusing on something else. Meg, I could tell, was having no greater luck in awakening her mother. I could hear her ask repeatedly "what's wrong, Maman?" But Madame Giry remained frozen. Her eyes, too, were wide and glazed.

With childish hope, I reached for my squirming fiancé, and held his hands in mine.

"Raoul, what has he done? What has he done to you?"

Once again, he tried to pull away from me after making clear eye contact with me. However, I aggressively pulled him back into a tight embrace. He began to gasp, and fought my embrace, but I held him tighter. Tears streamed down my cheeks at the fear of the unknown, and the regret of leaving Raoul to venture with the phantom alone.

Meg grabbed her mother's hands and once more, pleaded to know what was wrong. Finally, Madame Giry made some movement. I broke from Raoul's fighting arms, and turned to watch as Madame gracefully pulled away from her daughter and pensively strode nearer to Raoul and I. Raoul once more clutched at the rock wall, but I remained cemented in place as the strange woman that I'd always known held my gaze. Her lips parted.

Suddenly a strange song erupted from her lips. Meg watched intently as her mother's voice floated through the air. It was a very strange song… one that had been born out of a nightmare. It was eerie and resonant, mystifying and terrifying. She stopped just a few feet away from me, with one final, soft, and low note. The realization of what had happened to them choked me. I fell to my knees, and Meg ran to tend to her mother, and guided her face to face her with her hand. Her mother's gaze fell.

Meg turned to face me.

"Christine, what's happened to them?"

This was a cruel trick played out by the Phantom. A cruel trick that only recently had I experienced. The music that the Phantom plays, the Phantom uses. He uses it to further instill any emotion he likes in any person. The Phantom takes his music, and magically delivers it into someone's mind… someone like me. Someone like Raoul, or Madame Giry. On this occasion, he had chosen fear and seemingly magnified it to a level beyond understanding. I turned to face my writhing fiancé, and locking my gaze on him, I replied.

"We have to get them out of here, Meg."


	5. Violation

Safe in His Arms: Chapter 5 

It was a silent journey back up to the main level of the opera house. Well, not completely silent. No one spoke a word, but confused thoughts fluttered blindly throughout all of our minds. I held my hands over Raoul's ears firmly- he would not trust me any other way, with the unimaginable music that was thundering in his head. Madame Giry was a little more co-operative, assuming that perhaps the Phantom had been playing his trick on her for longer than Raoul. Meg gently guided her by way of holding her hand and turning her head every once in a while to reassure herself that her mother was still stable.

Every now and then, my fiancé would let out a small yelp and freeze, grasping at my arms. Pretending to be brave, and holding his ears with more firmness, I would turn to face him and "shhh" him until his breathing returned to normal. It was like walking with a terrified child who couldn't wake up from their nightmare. It was painful.

Cautiously, we re-entered the famous underground apartment of the Phantom. Our party paused for a moment as Meg and I scoured the cave with our eyes for the stealthy Phantom. We found nothing. It was a relief and, at the same time, an addition to our horror because he had to be somewhere; and now, we knew that he had to be planning some ill event. Our theory was almost confirmed as we realized that now the gondola rocked on the shore of the underground lake. It had not been there before.

I'm sure that you're familiar with the feeling that things are going so well that they can't be right. That feeling flooded over me, yet Meg and I agreed with a glance that we would do best to follow whatever plans the Phantom had for us. I don't know where Meg got her confidence from, perhaps just being bold as she is, but I had faced the Phantom three times now. I was almost certain I could do it again; key word being almost. It was terrifying to see how the Phantom had changed after I left him.

"I wonder what will happen to us," Meg said, finally breaking the silence as she helped her mother into the gondola. I dropped my hands from Raoul's ears and he winced a little, but then his face returned to a normal, healthy expression. The music was wearing off. Wrapping my arm around his back, I helped him into the seat closest to shore, across from Meg and Madame Giry. I sat next to him, leaning into his slouched figure and rubbing his back. Meg promptly picked up the oar and pushed the gondola offshore and then turned it around.

The silence was now unbearable, and required to be broken. Simple words would have only had a small effect, with our semi-conscious loved ones. Dangerous as it was, I began to sing a carefully chosen and peaceful song:

_October winds lament  
Around the Castle of Dromore  
Yet peace is in her lofty halls,  
My loving treasure store.  
Though autumn leaves may droop and die,  
A bud of spring are you._

Meg's voice joined my own as she recognized the song. Together, our voices echoed along the tunnel walls with a defiant sound of peace. The final verse rang gently off our lips as we approached the shore:

**_Take heed, young eaglet, till thy wings_****_  
_****_Are feathered fit to soar_****_  
_****_A little rest and then _****_  
_****_The world is full of work to do_****_  
_****_A little rest and then_****_  
_****_The world is full of work to do_**_._

With this last verse, I hugged Raoul tight to me and carefully stood up to step out of the boat. Standing knee-deep in the sickly green of the lake, I lent a hand out to Raoul to help him out. I smiled greatly as I finally heard him speak.

"Thank you."

My uncontrollable joy at this breakthrough inspired me to throw myself at him and squeeze him tightly. As I pulled away, a glowing grin was shared between both his and my face. I left a short kiss on his lips as we continued to venture down the dimly illuminated halls.

Finally, the music seemed to have completely worn off as we reached the last stairwell that would lead to my old dressing room. We began to engage in conversation; intelligent conversation that wasn't related to Raoul being in pain or Madame Giry still being indifferent to… well, anything.

"Good heavens, Marguerite, your legs are a mess!"

I smiled as I held Raoul's hand tenderly in my hand. He smiled as well. Meg was right; her mother had been complaining about the bite marks on her legs in the little time that she had been capable of sustaining an intelligent conversation. We would have to give Meg her ten francs later.

"Sometimes I feel content with my choice not to be a dancer," Raoul joked as Madame Giry lightly swatted him. I was glad to have my future husband's humor back; it had been a touch depressing without it.

"They're just little fish bites, Maman, they'll be gone in a couple days," Meg encouraged. Madame Giry simply sighed and smiled.

That moment of joy and obliviousness was cut short as, once more, Meg proceeded to draw back the mirror-door when finally we reached it. As had become our habit, we cautiously entered the room. I still found it strange that there was no sign of the flames' wrath anywhere but the outer face of the door. Carefully but quickly, we made our way through the labyrinth that is the halls of the backstage. I can't even count how many times that my skirt caught onto the end of a blackened plank of wood.

Suddenly, Meg, who had been leading the group zealously, stopped. She ducked into a small hallway that I instantly recognized as the stage entrance.

"Meg!" I urgently whispered. I repeated myself as I peeked my head into the dark hallway to no prize of seeing her. Madame Giry brushed past me in a frightened rush. As usual, she attempted to keep her dignity by wearing a chastising expression, but I knew her better than that. I felt Raoul's hand on my shoulder as he gave me a knowing stare, which I returned gloomily. Together, we proceeded to follow the dim, grayish light that came from where the hall met the stage.

"I'm sorry, Maman, it's just that…" I heard Meg desperately explain to Madame Giry, who had obviously caught up to her.

"Marguerite, we can't linger here. You can't just veer away from us!" scolded the out-of-work ballet mistress. She was definitely fearful for her daughter's life. Raoul and I eventually made it to the stage floor, where we found Madame Giry clasping Meg's hands so tightly that her knuckles were becoming white.

"Meg, what were you doing?" I asked, attempting a more calm tone. Raoul came up beside me and rubbed my back with one arm while clasping my nearest arm with the other.

"What's going on?" he asked. Meg's gaze wandered aimlessly away from the chill of her mother's.

"I… heard something," she said quietly, almost ashamed. Oh God, Meg, you should know by now not to trust anything you hear in this godforsaken opera house! I wanted to chastise her for following it, but there was no time to. There was no time to because suddenly everyone's heads turned in horror as they heard the dull tapping of a cane along the aisles of the theater.

"Nice to see you again," boomed the seductive and darkly familiar voice. Though he wore a different mask- a black half-mask with golden embroidery- there was no mistaking that voice. His tattered hair was, once more, covered by a dark, perfect wig; and his clothing reflected his dark nature and authority. I was petrified at him._  
_

As though she suddenly realized what she had heard, Meg collapsed from her mother's arms and began to sob. Madame Giry dropped to her daughter's level and held her, stroking her shoulder, while staring coldly at the Phantom. I could hear Meg whisper, "I'm sorry…" repeatedly. At this, the Phantom simply smiled, and I hated him for it.

"So easily are moths drawn to the glow of a flame," he stated, laughing slightly. "Too easily."  
With this, he gave a chilling stare, which would meet his eyes to mine. His smile faded to a cold frown. Raoul pulled me into him with a protective arm, but my eye contact remained on the Phantom. What was it about those eyes that worked such powerful magic? Those eyes that deceived me, threatened me, manipulated me… and yet warmed me. For a moment, I was reminded of the days when he was simply the angel that my father had sent, my teacher. That whole chapter of my life flooded past my eyes as he continued to hold my gaze.

I hated him now, but there was once a time when I could have respected him, pitied him… even loved him. But not now; now, I hated him.

As if he had heard my thoughts, he flinched and held his eyes closed for a moment. I felt Raoul's hand pull my head into his shoulder as I sobbed weakly. I could have loved him, but who could love a murderer? Who could love a dark magician? Surely no one now, as it was quite clear that my leaving him had sent him to a bitter home of madness. I could have loved him…

"Why do you persist on following us?" Raoul shot at the Phantom, bitterly. All I wanted was for him to weaken and follow every one of the Phantom's demands. Then, perhaps, the Phantom would not be so cruel towards those I love and I.

I drew my shoulder back from Raoul's grip to look at the source of a sound that I heard- the sound of footsteps on stairs. The Phantom was descending into the orchestra pit that had been torn and ripped through by the fire; parts of various instruments were melded together, those that had been abandoned in fear by their original owners. Trumpets lay mangled in a mass of melted brass, string instruments lay blackened and broken; they were hardly recognizable. Except one thing lay out of place; an untouched grand piano that had obviously been moved into the pit after the fire.

Raoul's frustration was obviously building as he raised his voice to call out, "Answer me!" The Phantom made no gesture of reply. He simply pulled the piano chair out from under the piano and gracefully sat down. As a feather falls, he gently brushed his fingertips across the ivory keys. He did not yet play.

"Miss Daae, do you remember the song from Mozart's Requiem Mass that I taught you?" he said without looking up. _Lacrimosa…_ yes, I knew it. Of course I would, when he had so violently reminded me of it on our path beyond that broken mirror.

"You ask her to sing for you when you have been so cruel?" Raoul called, his arm still around my shoulder protectively.

"Really, sir, have I been as cruel as she?" He looked up finally.

"She has never been cruel to you! All she has ever shown you was pity and compassion for God knows the least deserving creature on the earth!" Sharply, and wide-eyed, I mouthed a plea for Raoul to stop. He might provoke the rage and fury that this man was capable of mustering. But, thank the heavens, the Phantom simply breathed in deeply and continued on calmly.

"Let her go, kind sir, and let her sing for me."

I attempted to pull away from Raoul, but he gently pulled me back with a scared expression. Raoul was scared. I attempted to assure him that it would be all right with a weak smile.

"I love you," I whispered quietly, so that the Phantom would not hear. His gaze fell as his grip on my shoulder weakened and he dropped his arm. Solemnly, I walked to the center of the stage in between the now quietly huddled Meg and Madame Giry, and Raoul.

A foul grin broadened itself across the Phantom's face as he began to play.

His fingers elegantly stroked the keys with such grace and control as the introduction of the song escaped the piano. Weakly, I began to sing. 

"Louder!" he shouted. I raised my voice, tears creating small rivers down my cheeks. I glanced over at Raoul, who was clearly entranced by this violating act of a song. I could not look at him for long before I felt something yank my view back to the Phantom at his piano. Attempting to close my eyes was another failed escape as they shot back open. I made yet another attempt at escaping by resting my thoughts elsewhere. Desperately, I thought of my father playing his violin for Raoul and I when we were so young…

"Focus! Do not think of other things!" his words stung me as I was forced to think on him.

Such a pitiful and yet evil man… surely he had reason to murder such innocent men as Buquet? No! I cannot let my reason escape me! But he was so ill treated as a child, lacking the love of both mother and father simply for his betraying face… but though I pity him, his soul bears the darkness of the devil himself! I cannot pity him! But that music… so beautiful and alluring, dark and seductive… and the devil's gift it must have been when he sold his soul to him! How he tried to kill my fiancé, the man I truly loved and not simply with pity… he must have been fiercely in love with me. Imagine! A man so in love with me that he would kill for my affection in return! No, no I won't be flattered. He is a murderer…a murderer… and I loved him for it.

Shame overwhelmed me as I released that final, biting note. My legs lost all strength they had and gave out under me. Raoul quickly shot to my side, holding me to him. The Phantom simply stood, folded the music book to take with him, and paused as he smiled.

"Thank you. I am done here," he said. He had achieved his purpose, to force me to have second thoughts, to overwhelm me with the shame that would linger for days. Silently, he strode out of the theater and into the halls. _No,_ I thought to myself, _he is not done here. There is still much more to his plan._


	6. Clarity

Safe in His Arms Ch. 6  
I was surprised to find that it was still relatively light out when we finally exited the opera house. We must have looked like ghosts to those around us; terribly silent, dirty, and bruised. Our little clan stood at the gate of the opera house's courtyard, waiting patiently for Raoul's carriage to arrive.

In our silence, the wind seemed to carry every possible emotion in human existence. Meg stood with her head hung low in shame, arms crossed tightly in front of her chest. Madame Giry was frighteningly still, her facial expression bearing no scars of the recent events; and yet, her hands fiddled with each other restlessly. Raoul held me close to him in an embrace, every now and then kissing the top of my head. When he would lift a hand to stroke my hair, his hands would shake. His lips were parted and almost invisibly quivering, as though he were talking to himself. Meanwhile, I clung to him with all I had and shut my eyes in an attempt to wash away my fears.

I was unsuccessful.

We stood there for a long moment, in silence, before the sound of hooves and wheels on cobblestone met our ears. Raoul's driver gave us a few estranged looks as we silently boarded the vehicle. Once more, I sat next to my fiancé and Meg sat next to her mother. It seemed we all took a deep breath at the same time, and then all at once, the events of the day struck us.

I leaned my head back against the headrest and pursed my lips as the tears were now unstoppable. Raoul leaned forward to rest his head on his hands, grasping his hair in his fingers. Meg leaned into Madame Giry's welcoming arm as they both released their pent-up emotions. Meg's small sobs filled the thick air of the carriage.

"My God…" Raoul whispered a prayer.

It was a short while before we all somewhat regained our composure; now a mass of final sniffles echoed throughout. Once more, Raoul spoke.

"Do you have a flat in this area that we could take you to?"

Madame Giry wiped a handkerchief across her nose quickly while shaking her head.

"The opera house dormitories were our home."

I looked at Raoul, wordlessly proposing an idea. He returned my gaze, and replied with a pensive expression.

"I would invite you to stay at my flat but unfortunately I only have one chaise that one of you could sleep on," he said. Meg sniffed before replying.

"I wouldn't mind sleeping on the floor," she said. "The dormitory beds weren't much better." The whole carriage let out a small chuckle at the remark. Leave it to Meg to lighten the mood. I smiled at her warmly as Raoul gently held my hand in his.

"If you wouldn't mind hosting us until we can find a flat, it would be very much appreciated," said Madame Giry, clearly accepting our proposal. Maybe now the flat wouldn't feel as empty with those two there. They were good friends, after all.

Us three ladies prepared a meal while Raoul read through one of his nautical books. He had offered to help, but we all agreed that it was best if he didn't. Poor man wouldn't know sugar from salt if they had labels over them! Meg proceeded to slice the loaf of bread, while I prepared the vegetables to be placed in the pot of soup. As was her nature, Madame Giry was hovering over our shoulders making sure that we were slicing correctly, perhaps so that we wouldn't end up fingerless. The smell that came from the boiling pot as Madame Giry stirred it was so deliciously fragrant as I realized that none of us had eaten for a long while.

"Ah, that's hot!" Meg cried out as she attempted to carry one of the porcelain bowls of soup into the dining area. Madame Giry smoothly handed her a dishtowel as she continued to pour the soup into the four bowls in front of her. Meg then covered her hands with the dishtowel and carried the bowl to its proper place in front of one of the chairs. Carefully, she removed the towel from under the bowl as she came back to deposit another bowl.

"I'll take the last two, dear," said Madame Giry as she carefully picked up one bowl for each hand. While Meg was still placing her bowl, her mother's gaze connected with mine.

"Thank you for coming for me. You were very brave," she said, a tiny smile curling the edge of her mouth. I returned the smile.

"Now if you wouldn't mind finding the cutlery and bringing it to the table?" she said. I nodded. "Raoul! Dinner is ready!" she called out to the upper floor. I laughed to myself as I reached for the drawer that contained the cutlery, but my smile instantly dropped to a terrified frown as I noticed something out of place in the drawer: a note with a very familiar stamp. Too familiar.

Quickly, I tore the red skull seal and yanked the paper out of its envelope. Suddenly a black realization swarmed over me as the Phantom's plan unraveled before my eyes. The note read:

_Dearest Christine,_

If it was you who found this note, then all is well and has gone along with my plan perfectly. If it is not Christine that is reading this, I would advise you not to continue doing so.

Christine, I request a meeting with you tonight. Do not come accompanied, for there will be grave consequences should you do so. At four o' clock in the morning, when the rest of your crew are asleep, make your way to the doorway of Notre Dame cathedral. I will meet you there and we will discuss further my intentions.

My dearest ingénue, I know you will follow my commands. I shall see you tonight.

-Erik  
  
Erik… the Opera Ghost had a name! My heart fell as I was reminded that the Phantom was truly just a man and every man has a name. I almost felt ashamed for thinking of him just as a ghost, a phantom; though he brought it upon himself. He loved to dance around from place to place, scaring the wits out of people as a phantom would. He had shown no signs of being human except for his deep obsession with my voice and I. Now, the transformation was complete: he could love, he could hate, and now he had a name. No longer was he a ghost in my mind but a pitiful human begging for my attention. Yes, I would follow his commands tonight.

"Christine, the soup looks delicious but, darling, a spoon would be useful!" called out a joking Raoul, now sitting comfortably at the table. I snapped back to the world outside of the note and crammed it back into the cutlery drawer. I proceeded to draw out four spoons and rushed them to the table.

"I'm very sorry, I had a little difficulty finding the cutlery drawer!" I lied. I lied to those I loved, but they couldn't know about the Phantom's plan. Though, it seemed, as always, Madame Giry knew that I was lying. She was a smart woman who always seemed to know the workings of the Opera Ghost, of Erik. She had most certainly seen the note.

The evening passed, and I now found myself pretending to be asleep in Raoul's arms. He would feel betrayed tomorrow, when he finds out, but I had to protect him. I had to go alone and leave no word with him of where I was to go. I felt shameful as I gently, carefully, peeled myself from his arms. He looked so peaceful with his eyes shut, acting as curtains to the dreams that occurred behind them. For a moment, I simply watched his chest rise and fall, knowing that after this he would be all right. 

Delicately, I floated down the stairs to the door of the flat where I lifted my navy cloak off of its hanger. I turned my head to look at the now sleeping Meg and Madame Giry. It was an amusing sight; Madame on the chaise with her hair down and tossed all around her, Meg on the blanketed floor next to her with a thick duvet up to her chin. I could have sworn I saw Madame Giry's eyes open for a moment and smile at me as I made my way towards the door. It was a comforting gesture.

The streets of Paris were doubly chilly with the night wind and me being in a nightgown and cloak. The silence was broken by the odd sound from the beggars' fires in the alleys. I made sure to make my trip to Notre Dame quick and sure, so as not to become a victim of one of the night hawks who desired a good bedding partner. 

As I approached the glorious building, I noticed that one of the grand doors was partially open. The moon's light reflected off of a dark mask, which I instantly recognized. He waited for me. I sped up a little to escape from an approaching man dressed in tattered clothes and a whiskey bottle in hand.

"Come give us a kiss!" he slobbered out. He was definitely drunk, and I had no intention of making acquaintances with a drunken man. It wasn't long before he stumbled over his own feet and knocked himself out on the cobblestone. I was almost at the door of the cathedral, and clearly at arm's reach because Erik- the Phantom- reached out and pulled me inside, shutting the door.

"Besides your little friend out there, has anyone followed you here?" he spoke. His voice was so enchanting and yet demonic… I had to gather myself before I could answer.

"No. Raoul does not know. Madame Giry would not follow me," I replied. He took a step towards me, a wild look in his eyes.

"Madame Giry read the note? I had thought I made it clear that no one but you was to do so!" he barked.

"She… she didn't read the note. She saw the note, but you know better than I that she would never read any of your notes that you do not intend for her to read," I worked out of my throat. As he always did, he terrified me. And yet, I had no desire to run away. Whatever business he had with me, he could do no more than he did that one dark night just a few nights ago.

He turned away from me and took a few steps. He gestured for me to sit in the nearest pew, and I did. I took a few breaths to compose myself, but all that composure was lost when I suddenly felt his gloved hand on my cheek.

"You love the Vicomte," he breathed, almost as a question. In part, it was also him admitting it to himself.

"Yes," I said, taking a deep breath and shutting my eyes as he now brought both hands to cradle my head. 

"Did you ever love me?" he asked, his voice low and lightly aggressive as he drew his hands down my shoulders. Now, he pulled one hand just under my chin, caressing my neck. My breathing became labored as I slowly succumbed to his touch.

"Answer the question, Miss Daae," he urged, his voice becoming even more aggressive and yet seductive.

"N…No…" I spoke through short breaths. His hands were wandering dangerously down from my collarbone now. The dancing colors of the stained glass window from the moonlight highlighted the black of his leather gloves. They reached the curve of my breast, and suddenly I shot my eyes open and swatted his hands away. I stood, frustrated, and walked up the aisle towards the pulpit at the front of the chapel. I crossed my arms in front of my chest, catching my angry breath.

"It seems my little ingénue has grown a little stronger than I remember," I could hear his voice resound from the back of the chapel. Such a glorious cathedral, and in the most sacred room of it, he desired sin. I would not flatter him with that. Suddenly his footsteps drew very close indeed, until they were right next to me.

"Ah, Mother Mary, a beautiful woman she was," he commented on the statue before us. "Even she had her most sacred son with an angel, not her husband."

My eyes widened as I realized what he was meaning. He wanted me to abandon Raoul and live forever in darkness as his wife… the wife of my so-called Angel of Music.

"You are not my Angel. You never were!" I spit as I turned to face him. "I love Raoul and I do not desire a life with you!" Sharply he gripped my face with his broad hand, and for a moment, I almost regretted my words.

"Is that why you kissed me just two nights ago? Is that why you behaved so unladylike in front of a whole opera audience? Is that why you followed me to my lair when I asked?" His voice was so fierce and sharp that it seemed to pierce me with every word. Tears streaming, I weakly spoke the only answer I could muster.

"I'm… sorry…"

His face contorted into a devastated expression of lost hope and broken dreams. And was that…was that a tear that I spotted being born in his eye? It was, and I watched it fall coldly down his cheek. His grip weakened around my face as I felt myself shrinking back down to my normal height. He choked on sobs that tore at my heart as he walked away and slowly moved his hand to where his mask lay.

"Damn this bloody piece of cloth! Damn what lies behind it!" he roared as he viciously tore it off and threw it violently towards the statue of Mary. If only he could understand that it was not his face that so repulsed me, but his soul that frightened me away, petrified me! But I had tried so hard to explain on that previous night, I knew now that it was useless to try again.

"I'm sorry…" I whispered as I picked up the bottom of my dress and hurried out of that now desecrated building. My sobs echoed all throughout Paris as the sound of his own flooded my mind. I had to go back to Raoul, my safe place. I couldn't take this torture of overwhelming compassion. It was simply too much for me to bear…


	7. Eternity of Forgiveness

Safe in His Arms Ch. 7 I crept as silently as I could back into the darkened flat. Replacing Raoul's key on the table by the door, I immediately glided up the stairs to my fiancé. I did my best to be silent, but my nose and throat wouldn't allow it. I choked on a sob as I slid into the comforting bed next to my Raoul. Carefully, so as not to wake him, I placed his hand on my shoulder; as it had been when I had left.

The sound of tree branches brushing against the glass of the window frightened me ever so slightly, causing me to raise my head a little. I relaxed it back onto the pillow, realizing that it was simply what happened when a tree was near a window. Suddenly an unpleasant substance was making its way down my nose and begged to be removed. In an attempt to sniff it back, I accidentally let out a loud sob.

Raoul's eyes slowly opened, as my sobbing must have woken him. Seeing his beautiful eyes once more, being woken from utter peace, devastated me. I felt so weak, so violated, and so unfaithful. While he dreamed of peace, I had escaped from his arms and betrayed him by allowing the Phantom's- Erik's- hands to violate the little innocence I had left; the innocence I held so dear. I began to sob once more.

"Whoa, whoa," he whispered, trying to cease my tears. "Was it another nightmare?"

I didn't answer. I wished it were a nightmare; to be honest a nightmare would have been more pleasant. I simply continued to sob at his comforting gaze, which I could not return for shame. My gaze fell as he softly "shhhed" me and wiped away my falling tears with the tip of his thumb. Finally I met his gaze with a desperate glare.

"Hold me." 

He pulled me into his arms and held me close to his chest as he kissed the top of my head.

"It'll be alright," he said, running his hand gently down my neck. I wished it were true. I wished I hadn't betrayed him. I wished I had never left the flat. I wished that Erik didn't have so much power over me… but he did. And there was nothing I could do.

The next morning was a pleasant one. It was Sunday, and Madame Giry insisted that we all attend church as usual. Of course, her and her daughter had no clothes other than those they wore, so I offered to lend them each a dress. Meg gladly accepted the offer while Madame Giry decided that there would be worse looking people there than her and so she did not mind wearing the same dress for two days.

I had to laugh at the sight of Meg. Wearing a dark red, sleeveless dress that I had chosen for the entrancing color, she appeared smaller than usual. The dress was awkward on her, being tight around the bust but loose around the waist; it made me suddenly feel very self-conscious.

Raoul was a delight in his Sunday best: his usual white cravat, formal shirt, and vest, with a navy blue long jacket and cream-colored slacks that were complimented by his black boots. He tied his hair back in a crisp black ribbon. Gladly, he took my hand that wasn't preoccupied by carrying a Bible. We had to wait a little bit as Meg ran my brush through her golden locks just a few more times and then we were off.

On the way there, we discussed small things, to drive our minds away from the events of the last few days.

"Raoul, why do you live in such a small flat when your parents live in a mansion?" Meg inquired. Madame Giry promptly slapped her daughter's wrist and let out an aggravated "Meg!"

My fiancé just laughed.

"I actually haven't been there long. About a year ago, when I turned eighteen, my parents decided that it would be useful for me to become fully independent. They gave me a certain sum of money and I chose to start small and invest in important things rather than blowing it all on an empty mansion," he answered.

"Of course, I also brought a few of my things from my parents' mansion to my flat," he continued. Playfully, I cut him off.

"Like that lovely chaise that now all of us but you have slept in?" I laughed. Meg smiled at me with a bright eye. Such light-hearted moments had become rare in the previous days. Even Madame Giry cracked her stern frown to smile.

"No, actually. That I bought from an auction in Lourdes when my family was visiting relatives there. I was thinking more like books, some cutlery, my bedding, and my mother's engagement ring."

His voice dropped with the mention of that last item. I cursed myself for giving it to Erik; a gesture that I had hoped would comfort him enough not to take his own life. I glanced down at my bare left hand with a sigh.

"Perhaps one day we can go shopping for another?" I encouraged. He smiled and let out a deep sigh as we entered the church… the church that was held inside Notre Dame cathedral.

I've always loved the solemn chants and dark melodies that the choir sang. I've always longed to be a part of the choir; but the opera house was, in a way, a better fate. It was hard not to try to outshine the congregation with its beggars and aristocrats, all with awkward and poor voices. But as we sang "Ave Maria", it didn't matter how well or how poor one sang; the whole of the congregation singing at one time made a beautiful sound.

As hard as I tried to enjoy it, and be in the presence of the Almighty, I simply couldn't. My mind was lost somewhere around last night, when I was in this very chapel and faced my childhood ghost one more time. I was entranced by the statue of Mary that stood at the front of the chapel, just in front of a similar statue of her Son. Her Son hung from a crude wooden cross, and still she looked so peaceful.

For a moment, I pondered on Erik's words.

"Even she had her most sacred son with an angel," I could hear him echo through my mind. I prayed desperately, silently to God that he had not taken advantage of me while I was in his lair for the first time. I did not want to bear his child; it would shatter Raoul. But still I wondered… did he mean what he said literally? Perhaps he meant that, to my blame as well- for it takes two to produce a child- the darkness that he birthed into our lives would be the proof of our tragic story. It was very possible, but still I prayed relentlessly that I would not bear his child.

I squeezed Raoul's hand gently and both of us smiled. Perhaps Erik finally understood how much I loved Raoul. Perhaps he finally understood that his face was just as much a mask as the leather he wore over it. It was a mask to hide his soul from his mind… and perhaps he understood how to make peace with himself. Perhaps the nightmare was over, at last.

In Raoul's carriage on the way home, life was kind again. Meg and Raoul made jokes while Madame Giry and I laughed; we decided what we should make for lunch while Meg insisted on a dessert this time; and Raoul held me close under his arm. Suddenly he rose up and leaned toward the small window at the front of the carriage and opened it.

"Driver, I do not think we will go home right away. If you could, please stop by the plaza so that we may buy our friends some clothes," he called out to the man holding the horses' long, slender reins.

"Of course, Monsieur," the driver replied. Raoul leaned back into his seat comfortably and nonchalantly while Madame Giry and Meg, along with myself, glared at Raoul with the wide eyes of wonder.

"Vicomte, you do not have to spend your fortune on us," Madame Giry encouraged. It was not in her nature to take such generous offers well. Raoul simply grinned and let out a soft chuckle.

"Oh, Raoul, thank you so much!" cried Meg. She threw herself on him and wrapped her arms around him with an enormously bright smile on her face. I laughed as he did, while Meg ashamedly peeled herself off of him. Madame Giry was also smiling ever so slightly, with a raised brow. It was good to be able to laugh again.

We finally reached the plaza, and Meg excitedly leapt out of the carriage, dancing around in wonder as to which store she should ravage first. As Raoul descended from the carriage, he explained his plans for the afternoon.

"Madame Giry, Meg, feel free to go into as many stores as you like and pick out the dresses that catch your fancy," he said. "Christine and I will meet you at this corner at two o' clock."

"Where are you going?" Meg asked, a deep look of curiosity in her eyes. To this, Raoul simply grinned, and it caused me to be even more curious.

"We shall see you at two. You can then take me to whichever store holds the dresses that you desire and I will pay for them then," he explained coyly. He raised his hand as a good-bye gesture to the excited pair, and then gently rested it on the small of my back as he whispered.

"I believe you're needing a ring," he breathed, voice slow, sultry, and playful. I grinned as wide as I could and leapt onto him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He held me off my feet as he lightly laid a kiss on my lips. At the moment, I didn't care if people could see us, I was simply too overjoyed to.

Now, we were back in the carriage on the way home. Meg was almost drowning in the bright, colorful dresses that she had bought, while Madame Giry sat comfortably with just a few darker dresses on her lap. Meg couldn't seem to thank Raoul enough; fashion was apparently a very high priority in her books. Besides, she couldn't wait to get out of the dress I had lent her; the tight bust was really getting to be a pain.

Suddenly the carriage came to a stop in front of Raoul's flat. While looking out the window that faced his flat, opposite of the carriage door, he slapped his hand on mine when I tried to open the door. I sent him a confused glare, and Meg and Madame Giry both raised their eyebrows.

"Raoul, what's wrong?" I asked. Something wasn't right for Raoul to feel he couldn't let me out of the carriage just yet.

"Christine, stay in the carriage. You as well, Meg and Madame Giry."

We all shot him fearfully confused looks as he slowly stepped out of the carriage. I hurriedly shuffled towards the window he'd been looking out of, and Meg was almost instantly beside me. What I saw was horrifying.

Raoul was now walking up the steps to his flat, where, on the landing, there was a man clawing at the door. The man was writhing on the ground, dressed in dirty, black formal clothes. A large bottle of whiskey lay abandoned in the corner of the doorway as Raoul carefully approached the man. I strained to see the man's face.

"Who is that?" Meg quietly asked.

"I don't know…"

Not too brilliant of an answer, but it was all I could say. That is, until I saw a small portion of the right side of the man's face… Oh God.

"Oh God…" I repeated my thoughts.

"Christine, who is it?" Meg asked again.

Through the glass of the window, I saw Raoul glance back at the carriage, and suddenly I knew. I knew that he knew it was he… the Phantom… Erik. Thankfully, in his drunkenness, Erik was delusional and completely ignored Raoul's presence. Raoul fled back to the carriage and ordered the driver to go to the Seine River. I tried to get out of the carriage to try to understand Erik's condition, but Raoul forced me back into my seat, shutting the door. The carriage was in motion before I had another chance to get out..

"Christine, why is he here? Why is he following us? How does he know where my flat is?" his voice shouted, raising itself higher and higher with every question. Meg and her mother simply sat silent, eyes bewildered at what they were witnessing.

"Answer me!" he cried out, grabbing hold of my shoulders and shaking me slightly. As I met his wild gaze, I realized that he was not angry but incredibly fearful. Tears sprung themselves from their birthplace in his eyes while fresh ones were being born in my own.

"I don't… know," I lied. Out of his misery from the previous night, Erik had made the mistake of wandering out into the public and getting drunk. They say that when one is drunk, you act on your uttermost feelings, and Erik felt that he wanted to come to me. He already knew that I was living with Raoul; proof of that was the note that he left me. I don't know exactly how he knew, but my guess would be that he assumed. He was a very intelligent man, after all.

Raoul, after trying his hardest to read my expression, lowered his voice to a calm desperation.

"Christine… what… happened?" he spoke through catching his breath. I glanced inquisitively over at Madame Giry who nodded slightly, encouraging me to tell him. And I did.

I told him the whole story about the note, and how I had snuck away in the night, and how I knew that Erik's heart was now broken beyond repair. And I told him how it was all my fault.

Meg's eyes were illuminated with wonder as she listened to my confession. Finally I finished with a broken sob.

"And now, he's here," I explained, my voice becoming high-pitched and nasal from my tight throat and runny nose. Raoul breathed a forgiving "oh…" as he leaned in and hugged me tight to him, for what seemed an eternity. I just wanted to stay there in his arms, to know that he forgave me.

If I had stayed there for an eternity, I wouldn't have minded.


	8. Rebirth

Safe in His Arms Ch. 8 

When we arrived at the Seine River, Madame Giry softly ordered her daughter to accompany her to watch the river's activity while Raoul and I discussed things alone. Of course, a disappointed Meg met this request; but she followed it anyway. In the Sun's dying light, Raoul and I each took a deep breath before meeting gazes and beginning down the boardwalk.

"So, why did you meet with him?" he asked. I was greatly relieved that his urgent and frightened self had disappeared. He was now calm, trying desperately to understand. It killed me though, as I realized that he was slightly withdrawn from me. He had his hands firmly tucked into his jacket pockets, not around my shoulder as they usually were.

"I wanted to him to find some clarity," I explained. _But things only ended up more confused,_ I thought to myself.

"About what?" he asked. I suddenly felt like he had lost his warmth towards me… his questions concise, his responses wordless and shallow. I knew he would feel betrayed when he found out, and I still acted on it. The word "stupidity" seemed labeled to my forehead, and shame strove to hang at my ankles like a ball and chain.

"He was in love with me, Raoul, you know that. I wanted him to know that I couldn't return his affections, but I was so angry with him that the message was lost," I explained. The words were hard to force out of my mouth. Why was it so hard to tell Raoul about this?

"How did it become lost through your anger? One would think that it would be all the more clear," he stated. I wasn't completely sure, but I had to find an answer. I couldn't bear Raoul feeling like a stray cat abandoned by its owner. It slowly tortured me, pressed smoldering rods into my heart, and I blamed my instinct for compassion.

"I hurt him. I broke him by yelling words that I perhaps shouldn't have; or should have with a different tone. And, Raoul, you know how I am. I couldn't take it… I might have left him with the impression that I still cared for him!" I cried, now stealing a chance to make eye contact with him. He still faced forward, but his gaze dropped.

"Christine, there's only so long that a man can live while denying himself that his fiancé might love another man," he breathed, clearly heartbroken. His words shattered my soul into the smallest shards.

"Raoul, I don't…" I tried to explain, but he finally turned to face me, brows furrowed in part by frustration and in part by devastation. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and held mine in his own, holding my gaze. I had to look away, the shame was unbearable.

"Christine," he began. "I love you. But this has to stop, this nightmare has to find its end… we have to wake up."

My heart died as the sensation of his emotion building on mine pulsed through my every vein.

"I'm trying, Raoul, I'm trying. I thought that I could help by clarifying things with him… and I ended up just making it worse. I don't know if I'm strong enough to endure any more torture," I cried, a desperate sob looming over each of my words. A long pause followed as we held a silent conversation with our eyes.

"Just, promise me," Raoul finally said. "Promise me that you don't love him," an urgent tone in his voice.

I could have answered immediately with an assuring "no", but somehow I knew that then there would be room for my mind to consider if it was the right answer. As I paused, I filtered through every one of my thoughts, meticulously pondering my answer. The child that my mother and father had given life to desired deeply to show love to this broken man, but the woman whose life now fed itself upon her fiancé's love wanted for him to be out of their life. The giddy ingénue in me begged to keep him as a teacher, but the woman of society pleaded to move on and allow him to move on as well. I realized then that I did not love him, but rather pitied him and held him in the highest respects. I considered ways of compromising; from holding him at a distance while still having him tutor me, to "adopting" him into our home as a son and not a lover, even though he was older than both Raoul and I. Finally I came to my conclusion.

"No, Raoul, I do not love him. But we have to help him start anew," I carefully said, choosing my words like an orchard worker picking only the best apples. My response was met with great confusion on Raoul's part. "Without the opera house, he's lost. He helped build it, and with it he built his life. We have to help him build a new life," I explained. I held my breath waiting for Raoul's answer, expecting him to turn away from me and furiously shun me from his life. He would tear the new ring from my finger and order me to take my dresses that he'd bought elsewhere. But I did not get that kind of response… at all.

He simply took a deep breath and met my pleading gaze, finally speaking. 

"Okay, but I'm running out of room in my living room for visitors," he smiled. I finally released my withdrawn breath, and kissed him, holding onto his shoulders.

"I love you," I said, finally taking my lips away from his. "I always will."

We met Madame Giry and Meg back at the carriage, and on the way back to Raoul's flat we explained what we were to do. Both women were sincerely shocked that Raoul and I should come to such a conclusion, but Meg more so. Madame Giry, after defeating her shock, praised especially Raoul for caring about Erik's fate. Meg still tried her hardest to understand, the concept not quite registering yet in her mind. She was about as close as she'd ever be to understanding it, and we were as close as we would ever be to making it clear to her.

As we each exited the carriage under the ethereal light of the moon, every one of us took a deep breath as we realized that Erik had fallen asleep on Raoul's doorstep. I laughed a little to myself, for it was an amusing sight indeed. Cautiously, we congregated around him, wondering just how we were to get him into the house.

I bent down and rested my hand on his shoulder, a careful attempt to wake him. He did not wake, and now it was clear that he was not only asleep but passed out. He would not wake if the world were being destroyed all around him.

"Raoul?" I quietly said. He had agreed to the idea but, understandably, wasn't completely comfortable with it. Begrudgingly, he handed me the key to his flat and bent down to take the sleeping man into his arms. I smiled a little as Erik's body simply flopped over Raoul's arms.

I placed the key in the lock of the door, and twisted it, opening the door. I allowed Madame Giry and Meg to pass by first, and smiled a "thank you" to Raoul, who stepped sideways through the door to carry Erik and himself inside. I followed, closing the door behind me. I met up with everyone in the living room, where Meg sat intently on the edge of the chaise and Madame Giry stood with her lips pursed in contemplation. Raoul shifted his arms under Erik's weight, and huffed a little. He was clearly heavier than I had been.

"Lay him on the chaise," Madame Giry offered. "I can sleep on one of the chairs." She pointed to one of the plush velvet lounge chairs on the opposite side of the room from the chaise.

"And I'll sleep on the floor again," said Meg. "Except, do you think he would be offended if I was on the other side of the room near my maman?" she asked. Of all of us, Meg had the least experience with the Phantom- Erik, I mean; he wasn't a Phantom anymore- and so did not know how to act around him. She was so overcautious and curious; it was amusing.

"Of course not, Meg. To be honest he would probably wonder more if you were right next to him," I joked. She smiled and blushed, something she'd been doing a lot of ever since we introduced the idea of bringing Erik into our home and helping him start over.

Surprisingly gently, Raoul strode over to the chaise and lay the sleeping Erik down. He shook his arms out after; Erik must have been very heavy. Meg picked up her blankets from their spot next to the chaise and timidly laid them down next to the red lounge chair where Madame Giry sat with her eyes relaxed. Meg offered one of her blankets to her mother who sleepily accepted. I would have fetched a blanket for the curled-up Erik who now had his back to us, but he appeared to be fine on his own.

"Let's head upstairs and get some rest," Raoul said, resting a hand on my shoulder and walking over to the base of the stairs. There he waited for me, and I followed him, holding his hand. We finished our nightly rituals of shyly dressing for bed, and slipped under the covers. Raoul still had a bit of a cold edge to him, so I lightly drew a finger down his chest and then rested my hand on his stomach.

"Thank you," I said, smiling sleepily. One side of his lips curled upwards as he looked at me and turned on his side to cup my face in his hand. He seemed to take in the sight of me finally somewhat at peace and breathed it in deep.

"It's going to be an interesting next while," he stated. It was a perfectly legit statement. Erik, the man who had, not once, but twice tried to steal me away from him, now slept on the chaise on the floor just below us. I prayed that Raoul would be kind to him, and that he be kind to Raoul as well. But above all, I prayed that my heart would remain faithful to my fiancé. I shall have to teach Erik not to make sexual advances on me.

I sighed, and Raoul kissed my forehead and smiled. He then closed his eyes, and I watched him sleep for a little while before falling asleep myself. In my dreams, visions of Raoul's death no longer haunted me, but instead they were replaced with dreams of love. I suppose it comforted me to know that Erik was truly just a man. 

"Monsieur, please calm down."

"Where am I? Why have I been brought here? Why are you here?"

"This is the Vicomte's flat. He has allowed you to stay the night here."

"Madame Giry, the last place I desire to be is in the Vicomte's flat! Tell me where I truly am, and why my head hurts so bloody much!"

"Monsieur, please; sit down."

This confusion was what I awoke to. I opened my eyes, only to shut them against the blinding light of the sun. Rubbing the proof that I'd been asleep away from my eyes, I groaned as I remembered that Erik would not likely remember anything that had happened the day before. He was undoubtedly hung over, the enormous headache he felt giving it away.

"Tell me where I am!"

"I told you, you are in the Vicomte's flat. You were terribly drunk yesterday, and we found you on his doorstep."

"I was not drunk! I haven't drank in years!"

"Please, Erik; I realize this must be a little frightening for you, but you were drunk, and you are in the Vicomte's flat. Now please, just sit down and calm yourself."

I laughed a little at Erik's denials and frustration. I heard him huff loudly as he likely sat down. Seeing Madame Giry actually have authority over him made me laugh, as he was acting like a lost child. I knew she was waiting for me to wake up to really explain all, and so I quickly tied a lace robe around my nightgown and laid a kiss on the still sleeping Raoul's temple. At this, he cracked his eyes open and let out a questioning moan, gaze directed right at me.

"Stay up here for a little while, okay? We don't need him lashing out, he's already frightened enough," I explained. He closed his eyes once more and nodded slightly.

Slowly I made my way down the stairs, gently pulling at a knot in my hair. I finally reached where I could see the activity in the living room and smiled. Madame Giry was sitting on the chair that Raoul had slept on a few nights ago, having obviously pulled it back over near the chaise and facing it towards the frustrated Erik. She was clearly a little exhausted as well, as she continued to try and calm Erik down further still. Meg was, amazingly, still asleep next to her mother's lounge chair; barely visible beneath the multiple blankets she layered over herself. Suddenly Madame Giry caught sight of me, and Erik in turn faced me as well. The look of shock in his eyes was priceless.

"Good morning, Erik."

He was clearly stunned by my presence, as he cautiously clung to the edge of the chaise and pushed himself back against it. His mouth hung open as he strove for words that he knew were required in such a greeting.

"Good…morning…Christine," he finally squeezed out. Suddenly he turned to Madame Giry with a questioning eye. "Did the whole opera house just go and move in here?"

Madame Giry simply shook her head and looked at me in an invitation to explain. Slowly, I made my way down the final stairs and stepped into the living room. I sat at the end of Erik's chaise, causing him to freeze completely.

"Erik, Raoul… Raoul brought me here after you released us," I began. "I thought you knew?"

His pensive expression gave no proof, but Madame Giry attempted to explain.

"Perhaps in his hung over state, his mind hasn't completely started working yet."

"My mind works perfectly fine, Madame," he bitterly shot at Madame Giry who replied by giving him threatening eyes- not the violently threatening eyes, but the eyes a child sees on their parents when they're doing something wrong. They were the eyes that threaten with, at the very least, a slap on the wrist if their behavior doesn't improve.

"Perhaps now is not the time to try and explain," I offered. Erik reached for his back and began rubbing it, clearly being sore from sleeping on the chaise.

"Is the Vicomte here?" he asked, dropping his voice.

"Yes, he is just upstairs. I told him to stay up there until I told him to come down; which, at this rate, will be just before breakfast," I answered, being careful with my words. There was no need to rub salt on his wounded heart. If we could avoid it, I swore to myself that we would.

Erik gave a slight huff as his mind took this all in. Here he was, having apparently been drunk, slept in his enemy's flat, and now he was discussing breakfast with the one who had previously held his heart.

And a beautiful thing it was, because this was the birth of his new life; his rebirth.


End file.

Phantom of the Opera, Drama, Romance