AN: Arrggghhh! I was supposed to work on my Leroux sequel but...I'm just lazy and the computers in my house are EEVVVIIILLLLLLLLLLL! Yes.
Anyway, let me explain this story. After I saw the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical version I thought there seemed to be so much potential for a sequel. And Erik isn't necessarily dead (yet) while in Leroux he is stated to be dead which leaves more room for interesting developments. Also, I thought Erik (er, the Phantom) and Christine had this strong bond through out the whole musical.
The point is I thought it would be interesting to doa sequel to the musical version. Until I realized I'd have to use ALW canon. Christine's a dancer (okay); Madame Giry is the ballet instructor (fine since I liked her personality better); Andre and Firmin as the mangers (annoying since Ithought Moncharmin and Richard had more personality); NO Persian (HORRIBLE, I love that guy...); Erik having a nose (:twitch:); only half of Erik's face being deformed (:twitch: okay only if I make the one side REALLY bad). So I'll try and follow the ALW canon even if it hurts. Though I might have to bring the Persian in just because...

Disclaimer: Phantom of the Opera belongs to Gaston Leroux. This version, per se, belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber & everyone else who helped make the show (since ALW only did the music and produced it or something).

Are you sick of my rambling? Anyway, on with the story!

A Rose and a Nightingale; a Voice and a Memory: Chapter 1

Traffic swarmed about and around the Opera. People, police, singers, ballerinas, concierges, and stagehands were all running in and out. It was hard to tell what they were doing or why they were doing it. Though, in truth, the mess wasn't as difficult as it could have been since most of the Opera staff had descended to wreak revenge.

Not that the young man who hailed the brougham knew all this or cared to either. His one concern was the woman hanging limping to his arm, her hands frozen white. After seeing that she was comfortable and as dry as she could be, he hurried her home. Well, the brougham did actually. It sped through traffic though sometimes not fast enough for him. Every so often he would peer out the window as if checking to see if they were being followed then turn to comfort and console the woman beside him. When they finally reach their destination, he escorted her inside.

There was no one home in the immediate apartment. Madame Valerius was in her own room.

"Don't worry Christine, dear," Raoul attempted to reassure her, "the authorities will find that….him and when they do we'll be saf—"

"He won't follow us. He won't find us. He let us go." Christine particularly chanted, monotonous.

Raoul stopped talking to stare at her. Even since their narrow escape from the Phantom's lair Christine appeared to be some kind of daze. Of course she had been happy to finally be free of him and with him, Raoul, but after the boat ride out of the lair she had become increasingly quite. He hoped the Phantom hadn't done anything to her, somehow chained her soul further to him, when she went back to return his ring. Raoul had thought it was a bad idea but Christine had insisted. She couldn't just walk away without a farewell she said. Even after all that mad man had put them through, put him through, Christine still seemed…well Raoul wasn't quite sure. And he hadn't thought about how Christine had convinced the Phantom to let them go. He didn't want to even if she had done it out of love for him as he would have told himself if he had thought of it. But something held the thoughts back.

"Well then Christine I believe you will be safe here for the few days before the wedding. Since that lunatic isn't bent on bending you to his will we won't have to rush off now will we? We will do things right! You deserve the most extravagant wedding in all France!" Raoul bowed to kiss her lightly. She stood still and let him but made no more to response. Well, he reasoned, she is most likely traumatized.

"Well then…goodbye for now, Christine. I'll be back soon…little Lotte" with a tip of his hat Raoul was gone the door clicking behind him.

Christine stared dumbly at the door remembering the words still hovering in the air.

We will do things right! You deserve the most extravagant wedding…

A wedding.

She looked down at herself. She still wore it.

The Phantom's wedding dress.

With a shudder, Christine stormed into her room slamming the door not caring if she woke Mama Valerius. She attempted to take the dress off but found her hands were shaking too badly. Instead she flung herself on her bed and lay unmoving as the dead.

This face, which earned a mother's fear and loathing...

So, do you end your days with me, or do you send him to his grave?

This is the choice - This is the point of no return!...

too late for prayers and useless pity...

no point in fighting for either way you choose, you cannot win!

You try my patience - make your choice!

Go now - don't let them find you!

Masquerade ... Hide your face, so the world will never find you...

Christine, I love you...

All the events from the last few hours swirled within her head. She couldn't forget his pleading voice as he called out his love. She couldn't forget the joy in Raoul's eyes as they rowed away. She couldn't forget the terror of seeing Raoul in the Punjab lasso. She couldn't forget the sound of his voice.

Burying her face in her pillow Christine tried to empty her mind of all thoughts. Once it seemed she never had enough thoughts, always day dreaming, now she had too many. Nothing, nothing. Empty your mind….One thought surfaced against the raging sea. A question.

Why had she done it?

She did it to save Raoul. The Phantom would have killed him. She couldn't let Raoul die for her sake. That was why she had ...done it. And yet…and yet something inside Christine wiggled around trying to assert itself. She hadn't just done it for Raoul…

With a groan Christine shoved her face deeper into the pillow.

In truth she hadn't been thinking clearly at the time. She only wanted Raoul to live and to show her Angel that he was not alone in a dark, cruel world. She had just….reacted. The kiss had surprised her as much as it did them. It had just happened. It had seemed so natural…and Raoul would go free.

But, that wiggling ness inside Christine said, you weren't thinking of Raoul during the kiss. The only thoughts were why isn't he kissing me? Why isn't he responding? In desperation she had hugged him fiercely and kissed him again. The second time he was warmer, less tense, she could feel him melting around her. But when that kiss ended he had wandered off, crying and moaning, screaming at them to leave. Dumbfounded, shocked at his reaction and happy at Raoul's release, she had obeyed leaving with Raoul to freedom and light.

But then she couldn't just leave. It wouldn't be right.

Christine had gone back only to return the ring. It was his after all. She didn't deserve it. She was leaving him all alone in this cold, dismal underground world. She didn't deserve anything of her Angel's…

Her Angel? She still thought of him as her Angel of Music?

In a way, yes. He had inspired her voice, had given her wings, and hope after her father died. But he was still a murderer.

Turning over on her stomach Christine stared at the whitewash ceiling as if attempting to burn holes through it.

She hadn't expected what he said. She hadn't expected the most beautiful words in the whole world to be spoken by the most beautiful voice in the world.

Christine, I love you...

She couldn't think, couldn't even breathe when he said those four words. She couldn't even say goodbye. All she could do was runaway, afraid that if she stayed for a moment longer she would stay forever trapped and comforted by his words. They had stirred something deep inside her like a thread that he pulled toward himself.

Abruptly she sat up. This wasn't doing her any good. What she needed was rest. Sleep without dreams. Christine wandered into the kitchen looking for a sleeping potion. Eventually she found what she knew were medicine to help Mama Valerius rest easily. After a small dosage, hoping she hading taken too much away from her guardian, Christine laid back in bed.

As sleep drifted over her Christine had one last thought amidst the blurring colors of her mind.

I never knew his name.

♪ ♪ ♪

Christine was gone and his home discovered by a mob.

Life was grand, wasn't it?

It was one of those days.

Erik moved along an underground tunnel unknown to the so-called "owners" of his Opera. There were many of passageways and trapdoors of which no one knew. He had, after all, aided the construction of this mausoleum.

A tomb. Yes, that was it, what it was now. He would die here. There was no point in living.

Christine…

Christine…

A stab of pain. Another pointless strangled sob escaped from his lips. It was all pointless. She had left, ran away after he had finally confessed his love.

Blinded by annoying, useless tears, Erik struggled on, deeper and further along the dark and dank passageway. He had to get out, had to find somewhere safe. His only safe home lost forever in one moment of reckless passion.

How was he supposed to know they suddenly develop a backbone and track him down?

Really people were so unpredictable sometimes.

That's one of the things he hated about them.

Christine, for example….

Erik stopped, catching his breath. Indeed Christine one of the most unpredictable of the lot. First she had been drawn to him, then repulsed, then compassionate, and then there was that whole scene with that boy on the roof top. He wouldn't have expected her to show him any more compassion let alone a kiss. Twice!

Trembling, Erik leaned against the wall. Dampness was soaking into his clothes but he hardly cared. His entire mind was focused on remembering…

the kiss.

No one had ever kissed him before, his mother couldn't even bear to look at him without his mask and yet Christine had kissed him. But why? It hardly mattered. Feeling those warm, living lips against his, sensing the complete surrender and tenderness of her body had made him want her all the more. It made him love her all the more. And then Erik knew he couldn't force her to stay. He loved her too much to chain her to unending night, dank and darkness. She deserved better, a handsome gentleman like Monsieur le Vicomte, not a monster like Erik. He would never allow her to stay, then. Even if it meant scaring her out of her mind he would drive her away, to light and happiness. She deserved so much more than he could give her. Beautiful, wonderful Christine.

Christine…

Christine…

This time the call was akin to a soft moan in his heart. Erik hadn't realized until she kissed him and he knew he wouldn't keep her how much he loved her.

And then…And then…

Erik wanted to stop the flow of memories, wanted to get away to somewhere safe but the memories flowed on, disregarding his feelings.

And then she had returned. Returned even after Erik had driven them away, screaming and cursing. He hadn't dared to hope Christine had returned to stay with him yet a small part of his heart had and he clung to that like a drowning man lost at sea.

But Christine, his dear Christine, had only come back to return his ring. A further sundering from him. She loathed him so much she couldn't bare anything related to Erik. And yet there had been sorrow and tenderness in her eyes. Perhaps, perhaps…the traitorous part of his heart felt. So he had finally gathered the courage to sing the words he had never dared to say before. Perhaps she'll stay…because she loves me.

But no. No, of course not. That would be silly. Christine had run away with tears and horror in her eyes. At least Erik thought so. Of course that was how it had to be, the Angel of Heaven could only hate the Angel of Hell.

And yet…and yet…

Erik felt a strange feeling seep through the pain, guilt and sorrow. A strange feeling. Perhaps she didn't hate him that was a bit extreme after all. There was genuine compassion in those kisses; one could almost say passion if one didn't know what they were dealing with. Apparently she had felt, at least, deep pity for him. That wouldn't mend his broken heart but Christine had gone beyond just thinking pity to showing it. She had kissed him to…to…

Pitiful creature of darkness ... What kind of life have you known...?
God, give me courage to show you are not alone...

…to show he was not alone, that she cared about him even though her repulsion and fear would never allow her to love him. It was a half-love which was more than he expected or hoped for.

Erik thought this should make him feel better, perhaps nobler for releasing the bird from its cage or remorse for all the lives he destroyed or the kind of life he lead. Perhaps those feelings were true. He did feel them to a certain extent but mostly he felt…

Erik felt lonely.

Slowly, the former Phantom of the Opera and Angel of Music straighten and continued walking.

After all what else was there for Erik to do?