"Once upon a time, long long ago, there was a beautiful princess who led a miserable life. She had everything a girl could have ever wished for--a pony, a castle, and the love of her life…but…she was not happy. Her mother became very worried about her and bought her treats and dancers to entertain her, hoping she would recuperate, but the princess was unfulfilled. Until one day she came upon a man in the forest who told her, to find true happiness, you must learn to love who you are. And he knew, unlike anyone else in the kingdom, that she hated being herself. She was only a peasant in disguise. To discover your true self, the Hunter said, you must prove to yourself you are really a princess…you must do good deeds for good people. You must carry water for the weak and cook for the hungry. You must be humble and surrender yourself to those who are in need. Even when you are just as weak, you must give all for others, for this is the only way you can find yourself.

"So the princess did everything that the Hunter had asked of her. She worked in an orphanage and tended the needs of children. Her hands became rough and dirty and her feet were scarred from the rocks that had cut through her shoes when she carried the water. When she finally returned to the forest to seek the man who had given her these orders, she found him dead next to a tree. For ten years she'd believed he was her heaven-sent Angel in disguise…but he was really just a peasant, an ordinary man who told her to act out his beliefs on how to live. And she'd followed them, not questioning because she was desperate for an answer. Now that she was back, the princess was empty-handed, but she'd found what she was looking for, and she was happy.

"What do you think the moral of this fairy tale is, Christine? Tell me, and I'll set you free."

"I…I don't know," She stammered, "I'm…confused…"

"Of COURSE you're confused, Christine," He laughed coldly, "Why wouldn't you be?"

"But if I should be confused, how can I answer your question?" She cried frustratingly, "How can I know?"

"Ah…exactly, mon cherie," Erik leaned forward from his chair a little and lifted a finger at her temptingly. "That is the question. How can you answer, when confusion has muddled your thinking? Well, forget the rational, the common sense, and you tell me, WHO it has to be."

"Erik," She pleaded, "You can't turn it around like that, making me answer my own question when the question is yours…"

"Am I?" He sat backwards a little and put the tips of his fingers together, as he appeared to be thinking. "Well, I suppose I should just forget you asked it then…So will you answer my questions?"

"I--I suppose--"

"What is the moral of the story?"

"I don't know!" She was near tears. "I'd need some time--some time to think…"

"About which one?"

"Both, Erik, both, please…"

He sighed. Then his voice became suddenly soft, "I suppose I'll tell you the moral then."

Christine stopped crying and looked at him. "Yes, tell me."

"Do you see the parallels, Christine, of you and me…? The princess, like you, has everything…but she goes searching for far more meaningful things…and she finds someone who tells her that there is an answer to everything. So she believes him immediately…her Angel, her savior. Like you…Christine….just like you. But then…then, she does all those good deeds, and she finds that it brought her back to where she'd started. The same place. Apollo's lair…a tree…dead...how I felt, when I found you there, in the garnier fantome that is my sanctuary…with the Vicomte, lost in each other's arms like you could not bear to see another morrow without him. And I'd realized, my angel was dead…she'd committed the ultimate sin, and betrayed me."

Christine began crying again.

"And how was I to end the story?…She was happy…the fairy tale ending. Well, the truth is, it had to be a fairy tale to have a moral, you see…And the moral is, Christine…that fairy tales, don't, exist. You betrayed me. And I won't forgive you for it."

"Erik, I--"

He stood with such a violent force that it threw back the chair, slamming it into the granite fireplace. The loud crash made her jump involuntarily.

"Shhh…"

She bowed her head shamefully though her cheeks burned with anger.. "You followed me."

"Yes," he said, his back towards her and his hands clasped behind him. "I followed you onto that roof where you kissed your precious Vicomte and forgot all about me."

"I didn't forget--"

"But you DID!" He yelled suddenly; his voice was like thunder echoing through the labyrinth. "You'd put me aside and I was to be temporarily gone in your eyes…you and your Vicomte, however, will be forever!"

"I couldn't deny him the time, Erik!" Christine bit her lip unconsciously. "I'd seen you every day since the Opera has started…and he felt lonely--and he'd needed attention--"

"Oh...Lonely..." The ice in his voice sent a shiver down her spine.

"Well, in that case, I'm quite sorry for the confusion Christine. If I'd known that the Vicomte was in such dire need of your love, I wouldn't have stayed down here in my tent and waited for you to show up for your lesson,…watching the wax from my candle waste its last drop. But poor Raoul, all alone up there without the only woman he hasn't bedded in Paris…I should have learned by now to understand you're need to go to him, because he truly deserves my pity… nothing more heart-tugging than the anguished cry of a poor little rich boy!"

"I didn't want him to do anything stupid, Erik."

"And what would that be?"

"He'd threatened to kill you in the past and I…I didn't want him to attempt to…"

"To kill me?" Erik laughed. "Oh yes, thank you for saving me from what could have been a most amusing death, indeed. How shall I repay you, hm? With a song? Or better, an Opera?"

"Stop it!" Christine covered her head with her hands and sat down so she could stop the pounding hysteria in her head. "You're torturing me, purposefully, because you hate me for what I've done, and I understand, Erik, I do! But please don't mock me…I don' think I can take anymore."

"I don't hate you."

She shook her head, still sobbing. "No, you should."

She felt his presence next to her and she stopped rocking back and forth to look up at him. His face was expressionlessly cold, but he no longer looked angry with her. Perhaps if she touched him… Christine reached forward with a shaky hand.

"Don't."

His shoulders tensed. Then, sharply but carefully, he walked to the banister and poured himself a cup of brandy. Then he turned to face her and slowly took a sip from his glass.

"Do you know what it's like to live in a box, Christine?"

She shook her head.

"Well it's very much like being dead. You can't breathe, you can't think...Imagine how you would feel if you were in a very small box and multiply that fear by twenty, and then perhaps you might have an inkling of an idea of how your lover feels this very moment."

She looked at him with the horrified expression of a beaten child.

"What's happening to him, Erik? Where is he?"

Erik shrugged his shoulders. "Suffering."

Suddenly the images of Raoul in a coffin, yelling and beating his fists against the lid invaded her head and tears of frustration rush to her eyes. Christine made her way towards Erik and fell to her knees. . "Please, don't do this...I'll-I'll do whatever you say."

"Oh?" His voice saturated with sarcasm. "How noble of you to play the martyr, my dear! But I hardly think you realize the consequences of what you are saying."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Answer my question."

"Yes." Christine said without thinking, "yes, Erik, I will marry you."

"Your acting is becoming less and less convincing, my dear," Erik walked away from her and poured the rest of the wine into the fire and it made a small explosion.

"What more do you want, then? I answered your question...now, please let him go."

"What do I want?" He slammed the glass onto the ground. "Did you ever think that I deserve respect too, Christine? Do you think I'm stupid, that I would just accept that 'yes' like a blind idiot and watch you run off with him again? Do you think I would wait one more time and willingly make myself the saddest groom in the world to be without his bride on his wedding night?" He took a deep breath to calm himself. "You can't bear to see the boy suffer, let alone hear about it, but you can hurt me, Christine, and you're very good at doing it!"

"That's not true!" She cried, "I care about you too."

"Me too?"

"Yes..."

"Are you sure, Christine?"

The tenderness in his voice made her blink, and she watched as he moved forward and extended her one perfectly gloved hand. She stared at it but hesitated to take it.

"Forgive me," Erik withdrew his hand suddenly. "I didn't know that your caring for me meant you were still afraid to touch me."

"No," she shook her head unsteadily, "I'm not afraid. I'm just-"

"Sickened by the thought of physical contact?" He laughed in a way that sounded more like he was crying. "You still think I have scorpions up my sleeve though I've never harmed you in any way. What would I possibly do to you, Christine? You, the only person I have ever loved so much that I would die for you if you asked me to..."

His words sent pains of guilt and shame to her chest. It was only a brief moment that took her to decide yes, but it was still a moment too late.

"I'm sure, Erik."

He made a sound that sounded like it hurt him to hear her say that. "It's not enough, Christine...I need more..."

Christine choked, "More?"

"Are you afraid I might ask you for something and you'll refuse me?"

She shook her head.

"But what if I told you that caring simply isn't enough and that I need a promise from you?"

"What kind of promise?" Christine was quite nervous.

Erik was silent for a moment and then he spoke quietly.

"A physical promise."

Christine gasped. She felt her face turn red and was physically flustered enough to want to run someplace and hide.

"Erik, I...I don't think I can..."

"Don't worry, Christine," He said almost resolutely, "I don't mean for you to sleep with me. I simply meant for you to stay with me, away from the Vicomte if I let him go." He wasn't looking at her but he could feel the relief and embarrassment in her eyes. "Can you do that, Christine? Will you be faithful for me?"

She nodded, still registering the boldness of his words.

Erik stared at her through his mask, pleading and boring his eyes into hers as he spoke. "Understand that I would never make you do what your heart will not allow you to do, my dear...I can't make you love me...but I tried..."

Christine stared at him in silence but she could swear she heard the sound of his heart breaking.