Phantom of the Opera 1. Chapter 1

As I placed the ring in his hand, I saw his heart break before my eyes. There is nothing worse than seeing such a powerful man crumble in the blink of an eye. Of course, now I can say I broke the heart of the great Phantom of the Opera. But I never will. I owe him too much to betray my Angel like that.

Turning my back, I slowly put one foot in front of the other, unaware of anything except the freezing ground under my bare feet and the faint rustle of silk as my dress brushed against the stairs. Raoul extended his hand to me, like the gentleman he's always been, and helped me into the small boat that had first brought me into the realm of the Angel of Music. The paddle slowly sifted through the smooth but murky water, pulling me farther and farther away from Erik. I was hardly aware of my shaking hand gripping Raoul's shoulder, and fought back the bitterness growing inside of me. My eyelids drowsily closed, just for a moment, and I commanded myself to get ahold of reality. Opening them, I saw the cobweb covered hall that had once been magical and full of light. I assume the magic has left me now.


	2. Chapter 2

Slowly brushing the grainy walls with my trembeling fingers, I was awe-filled at the true state of the lair.

"Christine," Raoul tugged at my hand, urging me to keep walking, "I'll get a carriage,"

"Raoul, I must stay here."

He turned to face me. His hands learched out to grip my shoulders.

"Don't you see? You can never again come or perform here, Lotte. It's burning! And what would he do to you?" His touch gentled, and his eyes softened. "It's gone, Christine."

"The Opera Populaire could be gone, but the music isn't. You couldn't understand," I softly brushed his face with my fingertips, "this is where I belong."

"I'm not taking the music from you, it'll always be there. But if you would prefer to live, we must go."

Fleeing the Opera House was one of the hardest things I've ever done. All the beauty, burning. The paintings, the statues, the stage, box five... Many notes from many songs that had been performed there raced through my very soul, one more prominent than the others.

"Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation

Darkness stirs and wakes imagination

Silently the senses, abandon their defenses'"

Stepping from the burning heat into the frigid Parisian air was like a slap to the face, and I turned my face away. Raoul lead me almost blindly through the snow and smoke to the glossy black carriage he had come in. Still wearing that wedding dress, now soaked with the murky pond water, my feet bare against the cold, I climbed into the carriage with as much grace as I could muster.

Once seated, I pulled off the veil that had been pinning my hair back, and let the long, chocolate ringlets flood onto my face. Soon after my head was dropped into my lap, and I sat there like that for some time, hiding in my hair. Thank goodness Raoul left me alone.

I must have fallen asleep, because after an unmeasurable amount of time, I felt a silk glove on the small of my back, and I was led out into the bitter winter once again. I quickly pulled my small hand up to gaurd my face from prying eyes, for I was in no mood for petty questions and fans. Which I usually enjoyed. I am simply not myself.

I faintly remember being lead into a boarding house, (I use to stay in the Opera Populaire along with all the ballet-girls) and collapsing into a bed that I had never been in before. I fell asleep thinking how I wouldn't slip into the clutches of sleep to my Angel's voice.

The next morning, I felt better-rested and less tearful. But there was a certain hood of sadness over me. Sliding out of bed, still in the beautiful dress, I saw a simple change of clothes. Raoul must have paid extra. All my belongs were now burned into oblivion.

The inferno keeps destroying more and more. After I had stripped my skin of the silk gown that had become plastered to my body, I carefully folded it, and couldn't help but think that Erik had touched it. At least that was mine now.

A midnight blue dress was soon slipped on, and it felt like wearing a whole new person. It settled perfectly around my hips, and brushed the floor. Quickly pinning the front of my thick curls back with some hairpins, I sighed, looking at myself in the mirror. With a pale, slender finger, I carefully removed the smudges of makeup from underneath my eyes. Slipping a black cloak on, and pulling the hood up far past my face, I swept out of the house, quietly dropping a few coins in the housekeeper's hand, and offering her a smile. Quickly treading the block to Raoul's apartment, I couldn't help but be thankful for the black flats I had received, for it looks quite silly to walk through snow barefoot.

After one knock, he opened the door, and ushered me in. I removed my snow-ladden cloak and carefully took a seat on a red velvet covered chair, slightly amused at the cleanliness of the little home. Raoul had grown up with women, and it showed.

"I'm glad you came. I wanted to ask, or rather here your thoughts on something important," he informed, coming to sit down across from me, a small polished coffee table inbetween us, with a program for Don Juan Triumphant laying on it.

Taking a pen from a drawer in the table, I quickly signed my name, in big fancy letters on the front. "There. Now it's worth something."

He smiled at me when I looked up. "Christine, thank you. I am forever in your debt. But on more important matters, I think we need to get married tomorrow."

His face was kept completely streight.

"You're joking. You have to be." I reached out to touch him.

"No, I'm not. I love you, and we can't wait for much longer," His eyes questioned me, "he's gone, Christine."

"No, I am sure he's not. But I will marry you, and I do love you."

He brushed my lips quickly with his and stood up, walking twards the door.

"I have some business to attend, and I'm sure you have some plans to finish up."

I have no idea how he thinks I can plan a wedding in an evening. It's simply absurd.

"Oh yes. This came for you last night."

He tossed a package covered in black silk onto my lap. And slammed the door as he left. Though I was disappointed in his eagerness to go, I had to make the best of it.

Carefully pulling the twine from the package, the flaps of fabric fell loose onto my lap. A quiet gasp escaped from my lips as I saw the contents.

My pair of silk pointe shoes from the years of ballet, worn out and covered in razon, one of the jeweled hair pins I'd worn during Think of Me, the silky nightgown that I was wearing the first time I saw Erik (that made me blush quite deeply) my script for Don Juan Triumphant, and a single blood red rose with a black ribbon tied in a perfect bow around the thorny stem.

Tears misted my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I carefully set the bundle on the plush seat of the chair as I rose to look out the window. Parisian streets were covered in falling, sparkling, fluff, as busy Pairisians scuttled around, stopping to discuss fresh and stale gossip underneath romantic street lights.

A small boy in a brown cap was selling newspapers, and I caught a glimpse of the cover he was waving. The Phantom and I, on the stage. My eyes were closed, his arms around me, and he was singing. I could almost hear the rich velvet swells of his voice. I'm sure the article was about the opera and the fire. I had been in a lot of news lately.

Because I had slept late, the day seemed so short, the sun slinking lazily behind the curvature of the Earth. No moon appeared to take its place. New moons had always been my favorite. Just a black silk canvas studded with small, diamond pin-pricks made by the angels, so they could watch over us.

Some unknown force took over me suddenly, and I needed fresh air. People were lurking behind closed doors throughout the hallway. When I was done briskly tredding the flights of stairs, I opened the door and was hit with flashing cameras and tourists. Apparently someone saw me through the window. And I had fulfilled the "she has to come down sometime" theory.

"Christine! Were you expecting to see the Opera Ghost take over the male lead?"

"Miss Daaè! What are your plans for the future, now that the Opera House is gone?"

"Will you continue to sing?" "Are you still doing ballet?" "Was the ghost killed?"

Constant questions filled the air around me, though none were answered. My mind was on a direct path to the ruins of the opera house. Night deepened all around the town. Foreigners babbled in a strange language in clumps around the storefronts. The charred ashes of my home layed in front of me. I stopped abruptly, the cloak hood falling off my head.

Snow stung my skin but I didn't care. My feet finally continued their path up the destroyed steps, and I emerged into what was once the grand opening foyer.

I stepped over a broken gold angel, covered in broken glass and soot. Quietly humming to myself, I worked my way to the old dressing room. It took quite a bit to pick through all the rubble. Although it did help to know the Opera House like the back of my hand. Or better.

The mirror had been smashed by an angry hand, and all smoked up. It was the only thing standing in the pitiful, dead room. I carefully pushed the destroyed glass back to show the dark, haunted hallway I had been in yesterday. The longer I walked down the never-ending spiral staircase, the more I was transported back to the previous magical realm. I was corrrect.

About halfway down, I heard tortured strains of piano, liquid gold dripping off the fingers of the master that composed it. A haunting, blessed and cursed voice struggled to emerge from the music. I was stopped in my tracks. My eyelids dropped and I had to lean against the wall for support. The rich silken voice filled the chasm, enveloping me, dashing in and out of each corner and crack. The music was unearthly and holy, and slowly killing me. Sinking down to sit against the stone wall, I gasped at the feeling of my soul being sucked out of my body. Suddenly, it stopped. Angry fingers slammed the ivory keys, and I heard expensive parchment being ripped and crumpled. It shocked me, for I had thought it to be beyond perfect. But of course, my angel was never satisfied by his own genius.

Soon after I heard the scribbled and scratches again, and the melody started playing. If it was possible, even better than before. I stood up shakily, drawn to it, like an invisable rope was tied around my heart. My feet moved as if in a trance. After awhile, I arrived in the cavern of the Angel of Music. Thousands of candles were lit and cast eerie shadows that danced across the walls.

I eased my trembling body into a small boat waiting at the shore, and started rowing to the other side. Erik was so absorbed in his music there was no way he'd notice me. The music swelled to its peak, and I emerdged from the dory, sat the oar back in it, and made my way twards the piano and the Angel.

I gently placed my hands on his shoulders and moved the coarse of his neck and arms. His head tipped to the side, and leaned against my stomach. All of the candles suddenly swept out, leaving us in the pitch dark. So many odd things happen in the presense of My Angel I wasn't even startled.

"Christine..." he whispered, his eyes closed, the music stopped.

But too quickly, he came to his senses. Standing up quickly, he knocked over the piano bench, sending me learching across the floor. "Why are you here?" He demanded gruffly. "I told you to forget about me."

He turned, and looked at me, on the ground. Erik sighed, righted the piano bench, and extended a gloved hand to help me back to my feet.

"I came to say goodbye." I murmered, barely above a whisper.

It suddenly registered with him. His face somehow deflated, even though the mask never moved.

"Erik, there's no other choice, I have to-"

he stopped me by pressing his lips to mine. My back stiffened with surprise, but than I let myself melt into him. My lips parted, and a small groan escaped. I quickly pulled away, lurching onto a chair, gripping the handles untill my knuckles turned white. It took everything I had inside me to slow my breathing and racing heartbeat. He turned away so his back was to me. Slowly standing up, I shakily made my way back over to him. The effect he had on me was incredible. I loved Raoul, but he never could rule over me like this. Something about The Anglel and his possession of me, I feel as if a part of me will always belong to him.

"Erik?" I whispered, walking around him so we were facing together.

"What." He spit the word out angrily.

"I think I'm in love with you."

He took my hands and bent down so his forehead touched mine.

Half warm flesh, half freezing porcalian.

"This proposes a problem." He muttered.

I nodded, making friction between our foreheads.

Again, he turned away.

"Could it possibly be that you're in love with my music, not me?"

Again, I walked around to face him. I sang, "Of coarse I love you. This haunted face holds no horror for me now."

His eyes closed and he went into the other section of his mind I could never quite reach. His perfect lips pursed, his perfect brow puckered. In fact, everything about him was perfect except the half of his face... and the scar that penatrated deeper than the ruined flesh...

"We don't need to decide now." I ventured into dangerous territory. Of coarse, Erik is never rational.

"You're getting married tomorrow, Christine, there is no later." I had never told him the date, but he always seemed to know.

I could feel the passion radiating off him, the control he was trying to have. I could tell he yearned to have me. Completely.

"Erik, this is the point of no return. If we are going to say our goodbyes to each other, it's now."

This time I brought my lips to his. Quite quickly, the kiss that started innocent filled with passion. He gripped my face strongly between his hands, my fingers knotted in his hair. I kept trying to force our embrace closer, but we were as close as possible without falling over the edge. But we were teetering off that fine line briskly.

"You're so beautiful." I heard him whisper, but I'm sure I wasn't ment to.

His hands were no longer shy, and krept all over my back, thighs, and everywhere else imaginable. Thoughts of Raoul flooded into my mind but whisked out in under a second. Tonight belonged to Erik.

I tilted my head to the side and opened my mouth, giving him easy access. I whispered a prayer that I wouldn't faint.

I hadn't noticed we were moving, but suddenly my back was pressed against the cold, scratchy wall, the unprotected skin was getting shredded from all the pressure and motion.

"Choose, Christine. Do you think, or know." He breathed against my swelling lips.

"Know, without a doubt."

"Oh Christine, my Christine

On that night just before you were wed

Ah Christine, you came and found where I hid

Don't you deny that you did,

That long ago night

That night

Once there was a night,

Beneath a moonless sky

Too dark to see a thing

Too dark to even try

I stood for your song

To tell you I must go

I couldn't see your face

And yet I sensed you so

And I

Touched you

And I felt you

And I heard, those ravishing refrains

The music of your pulse

The singing in your veins

And I held you

and I touched you

And embraced you

And I felt you

And with every breath and every sigh

I felt no longer scared

I felt no longer shy

At last, our feelings bared

Beneath a moonless sky

And, blind in the dark

A song gazed into bloom

I looked into your heart

And saw you pure and whole

Cloaked under the night

With nothing to surpress

A woman and a man

No more, and yet no less

And I kissed you

And carrassed you

And the world around us fell away

We said things in the dark

We never dared to say

And I caught you

And I kissed you

And I took you

And carrassed you

With the need, to merge into the night

And nothing mattered than,

Except for you and I

Again and than again

Beneath a moonless sky

And when it was done

Before the sun could rise

ashemed of what I was

Afriad to see your eyes

I stood while you slept

And whisperer a goodbye

And slipped into the dark

Beneath a moonless sky

And I loved you!

Yes, I loved you!

I'd have followed anywhere you went

I woke to swear my love,

But found you gone instead

And I loved you

Oh I loved you!

and I left you

How I loved you!

And I had to, we both knew why

We both knew why

And yet we wont regret

From now untill I die

The night I cant forget

Beneath a moonless sky

A/N: Hey, thanks to all who read, I really appreciate it. If you're curious, all those lyrics are from Beneath a Moonless Sky, by Andrew Lloyd Webber, from Love Never Dies. (And if one phrase is slightly incorreect its because Christine had extreme mushy mouth and I was just going off what they said/sang) and the song did take place 10 years after the "event", to clear things up.

I spent a whole day on this chapter, and worked really hard, so if you could drop a vote or comment it would make my day. ;D

Next chapter soon!

-Katniss Alicia


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Phantom of the Opera, Hurt-Comfort, Romance