A/N: Oh dear me, where do I even begin! I finished Susan Kay's novel "Phantom" A matter of days ago, and although I admit this is not my forte, I had such a powerful urge to write that I couldn't help myself! I'm hoping to try and fill in the blanks of Raoul's point of view. This is, according to my own decipher of the text, a possible description of what happened when Christine went to see the phantom for the final time. It is written in Christine's point of view and remember these are purely my own assumptions. If you enjoy the story, let me know! If you despise it with the very core of your being…well, thanks for reading anyways!

I'm sure there are other fictions like this on the site covering the same topic, although I haven't read any yet. I'm going to try my best to fill in the blanks. Now, I'm warning you all before hand. I have NEVER written anything…smutty, I guess you could say, and quite honestly I know I am the last person qualified or competent in doing so. I'm still not sure how I will tackle that part of the story, but I promise you I will do my best.

These first few paragraphs of dialogue are taken from the novel (with a few things added for enhancement) They belong solely to Susan Kay.

I think it goes without saying that this is a fairly sloppy E/C romance fan fiction. It may not be realistic or even plausible, but hey, is fan fiction ever?

"It is time for us to go back." I spoke clearly and with a confidence I hadn't believed possible, at least not from my mouth.

Raoul stood aghast for a moment, his brow furrowed in obvious disbelief and bewildered doubt. Of course, I hadn't expected him to agree contentedly, yet I had still clung to the hope that he wouldn't possibly make a blatant lie of his own words. Not my Raoul, a man so blessed with human kindness.

I had barely assessed his cold disposition when I felt his hands close savagely around my shoulders, shaking me with a strength I hadn't believed possible. His eyes were filled with venomous hurt and protective anger; emotions I would never in my life have used to describe this tolerant man.

"If you think for one moment that I will take you back there you must be out of your mind!"

"But you promised," I stated firmly, shocked by his horrible vice grip, "You promised him Raoul!"

"Of course I promised…I'd have promised to cut off my own leg to get you out of his hands. The man is insane, Christine, utterly deranged…you must be quite mad yourself to think I ever intended to keep that promise!"

"If you won't take me," I said indignantly, unsteady in my own confidence, "I shall go by myself."

That seemed to push him over the edge, all traces of his calm disposition disappearing. I felt the invitation pulled swiftly from my hand and torn quickly into a dozen falling scraps of paper.

"If you go back to him you won't be needing to take this with you!" He shouted furiously, tiny flecks of saliva flying distastefully from his mouth. "If you go back to him there won't be any wedding…do you understand what I'm saying Christine?"

I nodded slowly, finally understanding this belligerent outburst. I knew exactly what he meant, although I couldn't help but doubt his assumptions. Erik had let me go once, and although I knew the anguish it would cause him, he would let me go again. He wanted my safety, and it stung my heart to know he would always place my own happiness over his own. The heart that often beat with such tender kindness was now failing him. When illness finally took his life, an inevitable occurrence due to take place at any time, I knew he wouldn't leave me alone. Shelter from the world, a steadfast love. Raoul could give me this, Erik knew it.

I watched my fiancé stalk away angrily, slamming the door with bitter animosity. I was alone again, left to stare silently at the brusquely torn shreds of paper at my feet.

You promised me. You promised him, a dying mans last wish. In his insane grief it was all he asked, a strange request indeed, but his sacrifice seemed to have earned him that. My eyes, glazed over so often during these past few wakes, seemed to open with a sudden unseen truth. Raoul had never intended to let me go back, and through all of his attempts to distance me from my past, to help me forget, he seemed to have overlooked what I needed the most.

Raoul, although unyieldingly gentle and affectionate, had always assumed the worst in Erik. Like a puzzle, he coldly tried to jam pieces where they didn't fit. Eventually, through sheer blind ambition, he managed to get the pieces to stick together in an obviously askew pattern, but in doing so was never able to see the beauty of the larger picture. I wasn't delusional (although I was becoming increasingly insecure with my own sanity) I was quite aware of the potential for evil brooding dangerously behind that mask, a bubbling hatred ready to overfill upon provocation.

Yet I had experienced the kindness, the almost inhuman way he cared for every living being. I had been enticed by his love, a love so much stronger than anything I had ever felt. Yet here I was, sitting quiet and demure at Raoul's side, due to be married in less than a day. I had promised Erik. I had promised.

Of course Raoul's fears weren't entirely ludicrous; he had every right, every bit of evidence to justify his indignant anxiety. I loved my fiancé dearly, and had been undeniably infatuated with him since the moment we met. Quite oblivious to the world's twisted horrors, as most children are, we shared a tender bond born from childhood innocence and strengthened through his unyielding kindness and my fear of the unknown, of the strange. We had laughed together, youthful euphoria filling our days. I could always trust him to understand, our childish whispers and exuberance, never afraid to share even the silliest of ideas with one another. He was my safety from a world I didn't understand, a place I feared so greatly, yet yearned for with loving adoration. Running in fear from what I didn't understand, what I failed to look past. Indeed I had eventually escaped…in a way.

My body sat cold and quiet in my perfectly conventional flat, yet my mind was still there. With Erik, his voice spinning in beautiful ecstasy around my head. The face that frightened me so much… I was torn by so many conflicting emotions. Did I run in disgust from the physical form I feared so greatly? Or cling passionately to a love I knew I could never abandon? These were the questions my ignorant childish mind had tried to answer for months during my time at the Parisian Opera, never failing to come up with the wrong answer. Strange how we can change in a matter of moments, a single kiss… that changes everything. I was still me, and although I couldn't deny my insecurities, that haunted face had held no horror for me now. It hadn't for three weeks.

My distress had mounted continuously across the span of that month; weeks that I know should have been spent in bliss, finally getting the picture perfect ending I had once dreamed of. Raoul had noticed, how could he not! When I finally was sure, finally knew beyond a doubt it was time to go back I had been met with this. An outburst that I hadn't believed possible from my gentle fiancé.

I grabbed my coat quite calmly, now sure of what I had to do. How had I ever doubted it? Raoul had forbid it, I didn't expect him to understand or approve (although I couldn't deny my childish longing that yearned for his approval). Perhaps I was just biased, I'm still not entirely sure when my trip back to the past had stopped being about presenting an invitation and became completely about seeing him. Come to think of it, it never was.

I would go on my own accord. I would leave the fear behind, push the uneasiness away and tread confidently into the home I had become so accustomed to. Slowly, easily, I traversed with complete trust into his sanctum of music, a hell bellow the opera floor.

A/N: Just an insight into Christine's inner thoughts. A prequel, if you will, to the action ;) Wish me luck on the next chapter…I'm going to need it!