Christine sat on a bench near the opera. In her hand she had a set of notes. She looked at them, but could not concentrate to read it. In the last few month had been so strange, and she didn't believe the things that were happening.

Suddenly, she heard a rustling from nearby, and spun in her seat to see what had caused it. All at once she saw Raoul, emerging from the trees, smiling sheepishly.

"Forgive me if I startled you," he said, approaching her. "I went to find you in the operahouse and was told you had gone outside."

"Raoul, why have you been asking for me?" She smiled at him. The took his hand in hers, and tucked it in the crook of her arm, motioning for him to sit down beside her. "Is something disturbing your mind?"

"Why shouldn't a man want to seek out the girl he loves?" he asked, raising his eyebrow. Christine giggled. He glanced down at her lap. "Perhaps I should ask if something is disturbing your mind," he added, gesturing towards the stack of notes sitting there. Reaching over, he picked one up between his thumb and forefinger. "What are these?"

"Raoul let it be, its just a song." She removed the paper from his fingers, carefully not cutting him. She smiled a little smile. "What now, Sweet Raoul?"

Raoul took breath. "Well," he said, taking her hand and caressing her slender fingers, "I was wondering…" He paused, building the suspense. Christine only rolled her eyes.

He chuckled. "I was wondering if you cared to dine with me after the performance tonight," he finished.

"Raoul…I…" She stopped, and looked around. Then she turned back to him "Yes," she smiled at him brightly.

Raoul grinned, then kissed her hand. "Wonderful," he said. "I shall meet you at the stage door, then?"

"Of course." She kissed his cheek. "We should be getting inside, before the performance. Will you be watching?"

"Of course, sweetheart," he said with a smile. "After all, I am a patron. It is my duty." He smirked as Christine lightly batted him on the arm. He stood, pulling her up with him. "Come, let us return. I'd suppose they're waiting for their new prima donna."

She laughed, and they walked to her dressing room's door. "Here, now, I'm afraid we must be parted for awhile," she said, and kissed his lips lightly.

"Mm…" he murmured, closing his eyes. "Too long." Christine smiled.

Slowly he opened his eyes, and gazed at her. "Stage door," he reminded her, gently stepping away. "After the performance. I'll be waiting."

"I'll hurry down to you," she promised, and went to dress for her performance. As she performed she looked over the crowd for Raoul. She send him a litte discrete smile.

The performance that night went without a hitch, thank the Lord. The orchestra was perfect, the chorus was entrancing, and even the dancers were able to keep their heads. As Christine finished her final aria at the end of the last act, she received a standing ovation with surpassed even Carlotta's finest. Raoul felt proud.

Fifteen minutes later, he was standing by the stage door as agreed, a bouquet of scarlet roses clutched in his hand. A few moments went by, as dancer after singer after violinist exited the door and passed him. After twenty more minutes, he was becoming concerned.

As he checked his pocketwatch, he stopped a passing stagehand. "Excuse me," he said, "could you tell me where Miss Daae is?"

The stagehand shrugged. "I dunno, sir," he said. "I just manage the lighting, that's all." He sauntered away. Raoul pressed his lips together. A minute later, he dropped his watch back into his pocket, and strode back into the operahouse to find Christine.

As Raoul walked on, he suddenly caught sight of a crush of people standing outside Christine's dressing room. His heart suddenly racing, he quickened his pace to reach them, and suddenly a very small but very firm figure flew out of the throng and crashed into him. He staggered backwards, momentarily dazed, unsure of what had hit him—until he spotted the mane of chestnut hair the projectile had.

"Christine!"

Christine looked up at him "Raoul!" She grabbed his arm gently "Raoul, i'm so sorry. Are you alright?" She asked worried for him.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine…" He coughed. She'd knocked the breath out of him, that was for certain. "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?"

She breathed out relieved "They were just asking me questions. They wouldn't let go of me." She sighed, and let go of his arm.

As she let go of him, he reached out and grasped her shoulders. "You're sure?" he said, glancing her over. "You look shaken."

"Don't worry, Raoul, I'll be fine." She smiled at him, to make him relax.

He sighed, and embraced her. "Then come," he said, quickly looking back at the mass of people. They were beginning to come in their direction. "Before they realize you've slipped from their grasp." He chuckled, yet when he began to lead her to the door, she did not come immediately.

He was puzzled. "Christine?"

She noticed his facial expression. "Oh, I'm sorry, Raoul. I was just confused by it all." She approached him and took his hand. "Now let's go have some peace from them. And it will just be us two."

She led him out the door. The cool night air hit them, and he felt as if he could breathe again. The moon, full and bright, cast a pale glow on Christine's features. Was it possible that she could ever look more beautiful than she did at this moment…?

Raoul shook himself. "Let's go," he said.

She smiled at him, and laughed slightly when she saw how he was looking at her. "Stop that, Raoul!" She quickly turned serious again. "Go where?"

He stared at her. "Supper, of course," he told her, slightly baffled. "That was our plan, was it not?"

"I know of course, but where?" She let her hand slide over his cheek in a caress.

Raoul grinned, refraining from closing her eyes at her touch. God, if this woman did not stop, her love would surely get the best of him. "A surprise, my love," he said cheerfully, waving down a cab. As the driver opened the coach door for them, he offered his hand to her. She took it, and gracefully stepped into the cab. Just before he went in after her, he muttered the address of the restaurant to the driver. He stepped into the coach, and shut the door behind him.

She would enjoy tonight. No matter what strange things had been happening at the opera lately, they would have tonight.

"A surprise, how lovely," She said. When the driver stopped, Christine were the first to step out. She looked at the restaurant, and then at Raoul. "This is such a fine place, Raoul, but it must surely be expensive?"

"For you," he said, holding open the door for her, "I'll spare no expense." She smiled, her eyes downcast, and entered.

She entered, and looked around at all the rich and noble people sitting there. She kept very close to Raoul not to distract any attention. "I love this surprise," she said sweetly to him.

"I'm glad." He seated her, then sat across from her. He ordered champagne. She blushed.

"Now, darling, what would you like to talk about?"

"Tell me, how did you like tonight's show?" she asked, not quiet sure how to answer, fearing that she might get on the wrong subject.

Christine sipped her champagne and smiled.

"Wonderful," he answered, beaming. "It's hard to believe that your voice…is your own. It astounds me. Truthfully, where did you learn to sing like that?" He shook his head in disbelief.

"The angel of music taught me" she simply said, not thinking about it. She had always told Raoul everything.

Raoul paused. "The Angel of…Music?" he repeated. Christine nodded. A moment went by, where they were both silent. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Which Angel do you speak of, Christine?"

"He heard me sing, and now teaches me how use my voice." She looked at him intensely, waiting for him to say something.

"So…he is your tutor?" He looked at her expectantly.

"Yes, he is." She started to get concerned about him. "Raoul, what's wrong?"

Raoul was silent. There was a blush suffusing his cheeks, though he didn't know why, and he turned his head to the side to at least partly conceal it. "I…" he faltered. "Nothing. Nothing, it's only…you call him your Angel. Why is that?"

"Raoul, don't you remember the stories my father told us when we were children?" She tried to make him look at her. "It's him…He's the angel father promised to send to me"

"Yes but….Christine, they were stories. Fairytales. They weren't meant to be…true." The blush was growing stronger. He wasn't sure what she would come back with.

"He is real, Raoul. Don't you believe me?" She looked at him, with an hurt expression.

"I…" Good god, man, can't you say anything other that "I"?

"I'm not sure, Christine," was all he said. "I'm not…sure."

She looked down, very hurt. Why doesn't he believe me? she thought. After moments of silence "Don't you trust me?" she whispered, feeling the tears filling her eyes.

He felt a sharp pang in his heart as he saw her tears. "Of course I trust you, darling," he said softly, reaching over and touching her face. She sobbed a little, then looked up at him. "I don't doubt you. I believe you."

She relaxed when he touched her face, and the tears stopped coming. "Thank you." She looked into his eyes.

He smiled, trying to be comforting. The blood was draining from his head. "That's my girl," he said. "Now." He picked his menu off the table and flipped it open. "What shall we eat?"

"Why don't you pick you're favorite?" She smiled back at him, a bit nervous.

Raoul breathed a laugh. Her timidity was quite apparent to him (and was truthfully a bit amusing). He waved down the waiter, and ordered for them both. A few moments later, they were alone again.

"Don't be nervous," he told her. She giggled. "You're a beautiful girl. You have a marvelous voice. And I love you. That's more than any of these people here can say."

"You are very sweet Raoul, and I love you too." She smiled and looked down at the food "This looks interesting." She inspected it briefly. "Tell me what it is, if you would be so kind."

And so Raoul spent the next few moment acting as a culinary expert, describing what each dish was and how to eat it. Christine only sat and watched him, her doe eyes gleaming, the slightest smile curving her lips. After he had finished his dissertation, he suddenly cut himself off.

"I seem a little dull now, don't I?" he asked, slightly embarrassed.

"Not the slightest." She laughed "You sound…wise," she added, trying to make him feel comfortable again. "And now i think we should eat our food, instead of talking about it." She began to eat her food, slowly.

"Yes," he laughed, picking up his fork. "Being the scholar I am in these things." Christine refrained from spitting out her food.

And for the next half hour, they ate in silence.

Christine blushed because of the silence. "That was lovely, Raoul" She said as she finished.

Raoul scooted back his chair, stood, and helped her do the same. "I'm glad you enjoyed it." They exited the restaurant, and were once again exposed to the night. Once again…her face was bathed in the light of the moon. This time, he remembered to tell himself to keep breathing.

"Shall I take you back to the opera?" he asked, in his most gentlemanly manner. "It is quite late, you know."

"I'll go anywhere with you," she said, and took his hand.

He blinked. For a moment he considered beating his head against the wall to clear it; why did she do this to him? Her voice was so sweet, so soft—if she were singing the words to him it could not sound more enticing.

Anywhere. With you.

No. He would take her home. Back to the opera.

Perhaps an evening str—

No. That was what he resolved to do.

Kissing her palms, he waved down cab, and told the driver to take them back. As the coach swayed from side to side while they traveled down the road, she rested her head upon his breast, and closed her eyes. Soon enough, she was asleep.

Here, now, with her in his arms…

Raoul could have wept with joy.