I was fanning out a deck of cards when the door opened. My father walked in, and placed a hand on my forehead. "Feeling any better, petite?"

"No, Papa, I'm not."

"Well, your grandmother's here now. That should make things better, right?"

"Is she going to use those silly pet names on me again? I hate that."

"One never knows." The silhouette of my grandmother appeared in the doorway. "Mother."

"Gustave," she crooned sweetly, kissing him on each of his cheeks. "And Ange, ma petite chou d'amour. How are you?" I rolled my eyes. Grandmama always called me Ange, even though it was her pet name for my grandfather, too. She called just about everyone in our family Ange. My father smiled and kissed her back before leaving the two of us alone. "I brought you something." She handed me a gold wrapped package. "Open it."

It was too big for tarot cards, which annoyed me. I'd been hoping for a new deck of the Major Arcana. As I ripped off the paper, the words The Phantom Bride, by Gaston Leroux, gleamed gold at me. "A book?" I asked in disgust. "A book is not going to help me learn divining."

"No, ma petite, but it can teach you about a different kind of magic. I used to read this book to your father when he was sick, and he adored it." I went back to dealing out the different suits. "Angel, at least, hear one chapter."

"Oh, alright," I muttered, swiping the cards to the side.

"Thank you. Now, let's see..." she flipped open the book. "Once upon a time..."

Christine was a young country girl, living on her deceased father's farm. She could only afford one farm hand, and only because he didn't ask for pay. He just wanted food, shelter, and clothing. In exchange for his work, she cooked his meals, sewed clothes for him, and let him live in the spare bedroom. His name was Erik, but she never called him that. Her name for him was Farm Boy. Little did she know how much he enjoyed this alias. To him, it meant she respected him, and was too shy to say his real name. He'd heard her say it around her friends; she said it with such…adoration.

"Farm Boy!" Christine called, bringing Erik out of his thoughts. "I made you a new shirt. I noticed some holes in your current one."

Erik nodded in thanks, accepting the shirt. Christine waited expectantly. "Well?" she said finally. "Are you going to put it on so I can take your old shirt? I mean, with all those holes, you'll burn terribly."

"As you wish," he replied, removing the torn garment.

Christine gasped. He was positively skeletal! "Farm Boy!" she scolded. "Why haven't you been eating?"

"I have, Milady," he answered calmly.

"Don't lie to me!" she snapped. "Come on! Inside, Farm Boy! You're going to eat! You look as though you could break in half, and I cannot have that! Come on!"

"As you wish."

-AFTER EATING—

"There, don't you feel better?" Christine asked, smiling as she spoke.

Erik could have fainted then and there. She had the most beautiful smile, angelic really. And with those stunningly full lips…

He nodded. "Thank you, Milady," he replied, kissing her hand. "But now I really must return to my work."

"Oh, yes, right then…but you will come back in for dinner, won't you?"

"As you wish."

"Farm Boy!" Christine called.

Erik looked up, hiding a smile. She had been ordering him around all day. Simple things, so he was sure she just wanted him to be near her. Of course, he was more than happy to obey.

"Yes, Milady?" he asked politely.

"Will you help me brush Mozart?" Mozart was her horse, and a fine one, too. His soft coat was a silver-gray colour, and his thick mane and tail were a deep black. Christine loved to brush Mozart's inky locks and pretend she was brushing Erik's. The Farm Boy's hair was darker, but it was still a nice fantasy.

"As you wish," he replied, picking up one of the horse brushes. He began working with Mozart's tail. He didn't want Christine to do this part, for fear of her being kicked.

"Careful, Farm Boy," she warned. "I don't want you hurting Mozart."

"As you wish."

Christine forced herself to keep from smiling.

Erik sang quietly without realizing he was doing so as he cleaned the stables. When he and Christine had been brushing Mozart, their hands touched, if only for a moment. He replayed it over and over in his head, remembering how soft her hands were, how smooth her skin felt. She had lovely nails, as well, and they send a pleasant chill through his body. He didn't understand this, but that's the way with women, isn't it?

"I didn't know you could sing, Farm Boy," Christine whispered in awe as she rode Mozart into the stable. After gracefully dismounting, she led him to his stall to eat, and walked over to Erik. Placing her hand on the back of his neck, she asked shyly, "Will you continue?"

Running one hand through her hair, and stroking her cheek with the other, he replied, "As you wish."

"That was…beautiful," Christine said. "I simply cannot describe it. You seem to put every emotion into the music, and even include emotions I never knew existed. Will you…?"

She stopped. 'No, don't ask him!' she thought. 'That'll ruin everything! I just know it will!'

"Yes, Milady?"

"Oh, um…nothing. Nothing at all."

"Milady, I must know. I want to please you. What do you want?"

Christine bit her bottom lip. "Will you teach me to sing?"

Erik looked at her for a few seconds, his expression almost fearful. Then he smiled. "As you wish."

"Oh, thank you, Erik!" she cried joyfully. He gasped. She had never called him that before, except when she was around her friends! He absolutely loved the way it rolled off her tongue.

Christine moved towards him in a way indicating an embrace. Erik backed up. "I'm covered in sweat, straw, dirt, manure, and God knows what else. I wouldn't dream of spreading that onto something so perfect."

"You needn't dream, my sweet. This is reality. I regret only that it took so long," she added with a sigh.

"Who am I to deprive an Angel of her longing?" he assured her, bringing her closer to him. "Even if the Angel's longing is illogical."

"What does logic have to do with love?" she smiled. "Erik, my dear Erik. I…I love you. Please say you love me in return."

"I have told you that for years, Christine. Have you not heard me? If I am to teach you how to sing, you must learn to listen."

"You mean…?"

"I said 'as you wish,' because I was afraid to say 'I love you.' I wanted nothing more than to tell you what my heart screams, day in and day out. That is why I rarely sleep, my dear. My heart weeps at the thought of another day without you knowing."

Christine gazed into Erik's eyes with the passion of a thousand nations and times. Placing her hand over his heart, she whispered, "May your heart cease its weeping. Let me drink the tears of your bosom, that I shall forever carry a part of you within my soul."

"You ask only for part of me," he whispered back. "My dear, I told you I would deprive you of nothing."

"I've often wondered what it would be like."

"Beg pardon?"

"Heaven," she replied, kissing him.

"Mademoiselle Christine Daae," Erik said, moving down to his knees. "When I return, will you marry me?"

Christine beamed, tears of unspeakable happiness running down her cheeks. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, Erik. Yes! Oh, you have no idea how long I wanted to say that!"

Erik stood up, gently wiping her tears away. "Perhaps as long as I've wanted to hear it."

"I'm sorry I made you wait."

"I must forgive you, for I am about to do the same thing," he stated sadly.

"What do you mean?"

"I asked you to marry me, 'when I return.' I have no money, Christine. I want to make you the happiest of women. I must go out and seek my fortune. I will return as soon as I can, and write to you as often as possible. You deserve everything, my dear. I am determined to give you just that."

"If you want to give me everything, you will stay here with me," she lamented.

"I'm sorry," he replied. "Really, I am. I don't want to leave, but I have to."

"What if you cannot return?"

"Christine," he whispered. "Christine, look at me. Look me in the eyes. I promise you I will return. I swear to you I will. Believe me, when one finds true happiness, and…true love…they always return."

Christine smiled and kissed him. "Erik, you never told me why you wear a mask."

"I realize that," he answered nervously.

"Dear, I understand if you don't feel ready to show me yet, but someday…"

"Someday, yes. Someday I will show you."

"Will you at least tell me why you wear it?"

"I don't think it's fair for an Angel to have to see such repulsiveness. Not even my own mother would look at me."

"Someday, my sweet Erik, when you decide you are ready, I will look at your face with the love your mother was to afraid to show you."

"Afraid to show me?" he asked, obviously confused.

"Intimidated by your brilliance, Erik."

"Really?" he asked with an adorably childlike innocence.

"Of course!" she exclaimed. "Why, hasn't anyone told you that before?"

"No, my dear. Never."

"Well, they're wrong. I think you're absolutely brilliant."

"Thank you," he whispered, though with much difficulty. Christine could tell he was overcome with emotion. Smiling, she kissed his slightly trembling lips.

"Just don't keep me waiting too long."

It had been nearly four months since Erik left. He'd gone by boat, promising to return with money for marriage. Christine waved to him when he left.

"I love you, my Angel!" he'd called from the rail of the ship. "I love you more than I could ever say! I'll write as often as possible! I love you, my dear!"

"I love you, too, Erik!" she'd called back. "I'm afraid I don't know the proper words, either! I can never tell you how much I care for you! Stay safe! I love you!"

As the ship sailed away, the other members of the crew told Erik how lucky he was; he had a beautiful woman who obviously loved him. "She's quite a catch, no pun intended," an older man said, motioning to the boat. "You have to tell us all about her."

Erik smiled. "Well, she's perfect…"

Christine went into town to buy a few groceries and see if Erik had sent another letter.

"Good morning, Mademoiselle," the town grocer, Messieur Firmin, greeted her. "What can I do for you today?"

"Good morning, Messieur," she answered, handing him her basket. He was a kindly old gentleman, always filling her case for her while she read off her list. "Let's see…I need flour, brown sugar…"

"Excuse me," said the postal carrier as he entered the store. "Sorry to interrupt, but I received a letter marked, 'urgent,' for Mademoiselle Christine Daae."

"Oh! Is it from Erik?"

"Well, not exactly," he said nervously.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Here," he replied, handing her the note.

Christine frowned, taking the letter and opening it.

"Mademoiselle Christine Daae-

This is Captain Lefevre. I write this with great sorrow. Your fiancée was killed along with the rest of the crew. The Dread Pirate Robin attacked our ship, but she has allowed me to tell you what happened to your love. Please forgive the shortness and childlike wording of this letter, as I have only a few minutes before my own death. I am deeply sorry for your loss.

-Lefevre"

"Oh, God," she whispered. "My sweet Erik."

"What happened?" Messieur Firmin asked.

"I-I-I…I have to go," she replied, leaving her basket on the counter, and the two men in shock.

"Oh, Mozart!" Christine sobbed. "Just take me somewhere away from here."

The horse obeyed, trotting off into the forest. A few miles in, she heard hunters. Curious, she peered out from behind a tree, and immediately covered her mouth to muffle a gasp.

It was Prince Raoul out hunting with Count Philippe.


A/N: This idea and chapter originally belong to my friend Spirit-Lily on DeviantArt. As she has recently focused her energy on Les Miz, I have received permission to continue the story. As such, I already have certain characters limits I must obey, but I like working with a challenge. More to follow.