Okay, so I wrote this story a few hours ago, and then it got erased from my computer, so I'm rewriting it. This is my first Phantom story, so wish me luck….

"Raoul! I don't see why you must be so persistent. Really seeing him now would ruin everything. Let's just leave this alone, and by next Wednesday, we'll be married and happy."

Christine Daae was changing. It was obvious to everyone who knew her. Her usual upbeat manner was slowly dwindling to nothing. Her mind would wander to some far off place, and she would not come out of the trance for hours. Her life-force was seeming to give away.

"Christine, I think that for the better of our marriage you see him, and remind yourself why you are not marrying him instead of me. Because I know that your thinking about him, even know, I can see it in your eyes!"

Christine walked slowly to her bed, and sat, with her head between her knees. She let out a great sigh.

"Raoul, it isn't that I don't want to see him, it's that I don't know what will happen when I see him."

"Christine, just go."

"Fine."

Christine stood, and walked to her closet, she pulled out a long black gown, that hugged her hips tightly. A small white pattern adorned the front of her gown.

She grabbed a pair of back shoes, and slipped her small feet into them gracefully. She pushed her black hair behind her ears, and wrapped a black scarf around her head. She grabbed her small purse and kissed Raoul lightly on the cheek before leaving.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Christine tapped on the large wooden door of Madame Giry's home. She hopped from on foot to another, to keep the cold off. She rapped the door again, this time to receive an answer.

"Christine, my dear, what are you doing here?" Madame Giry asked ushering the young woman into her warm home.

"Oh Marie (A/N: I don't know what Madame Giry's real name is, so I came up with this.) Raoul sent me to find the Phantom. And I want to, but, I don't trust myself to leave him, once I have finally seen him once more." Slow tears fell from Christine's green eyes.

"Oh, Christine, I will tell you where he is, but you must promise me not to do anything irrational."

Christine nodded wildly her dark curls bounce happily on the back of her neck

"Oh, of course, nothing irrational."

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Christine hurried through the crowded streets of Paris, finally coming to the street Madame Giry had told her of. 'Minuit Tribunal, what a strange name.' She slowly walked down the street, and out of Paris, into a small town.

She walked quickly to the small house Madame Giry had told her of. The black building, with a red rose painted on the door. Christine smiled to herself, remembering the roses that she received every time he was pleased with her.

She knocked softly, afraid to disturb the silent night. She stood, tapping her toes on the dirt walkway. She went into thought, of how he would react to her being there, of her sudden visit.

The sound of a lock being turned, and a door opening, quickly awoke Christine from her thoughts.

"Oh." She whispered.

There he stood, His face was still covered in mask, but his dark hair was let loose around his handsome face. He stood there, his eyes looking slightly annoyed, but more confused.

"Christine? Christine Daae?" His voice was the same, though much quieter and sent shivers running up her spine.

"I…oh…yes." Her voice seemed too loud for his silent home, and she winced at the sharpness of her voice.

"Come, come in. You must be cold, standing there, near midnight, with your arms bare. What you women do for fashion." He shook his head as he guided her inside. A small smirk lingered on her lips.

She wasn't surprised that his house was dark, sheets of paper and books scattered everywhere. Although, he still had many candles light in almost every open space.

"Let me see you," He whispered. "You are a married woman now, are you not?"

The end of his sentence came out almost too bitter, but Christine did not mind, for she was lost in memory.

"No, not married yet, next Wednesday. It's a frightening thought, isn't it."

She pulled herself away from his gaze and looked around. She figured that the room they were in was almost like his office, for a large desk sat in the middle. She ran her fingers along the books that lined the many shelves. She ended, standing in front of the large window, that looked out open a forest. She was lost in thought. Of how beautiful everything was, how, away from the opera house, he was more like a true man, that the monster everyone believed him to be. She gently pulled of her engagement ring, and twirled it in her fingers. The diamond that sat in the middle, glowed in the moonlight.

Christine felt two hands rest themselves on her hips. She sighed softly and relaxed her head in to his chest.

"Phantom, it's been so long, almost a year, a most painful year I must tell you, but you seem to be doing well. Have you written me any operas?" She let out a soft laugh.

"Please, Christine, do not call me Phantom. As I do not live in an opera house, I am not an Opera Ghost, or, for that matter,a phantom of the opera."

"I am sorry, but I guess, I don't know what to call you then."

"I prefer Erik."

"Do you?" After a quick nod of his head, she continued. "Well, Erik, you still have not answered my question. Have you written me an opera?" She turned to him, a small smile gracing her features.

"Well, if you must know, since I have not had to teach any angels to sing, I have had much time on my hands." He walked away from her, and off of one of his many shelves pulled a large stack of leather folders.

"I have written you six. Six very, if I must tell you, very wonderful operas, that, with you as the lead, will be successes."

He smiled at her and handed her the folders. She looked through them, stopping frequently to sing small parts.

"Oh, Erik, they are wonderful. I can't wait to sing them, to have them performed. Oh, you won't mind will you? If I have them performed at the opera house? No one will know that it was you who wrote them. Unless of course, you want everyone to know you wrote them, I just don't know if they would be performed if it was known that the Phantom had written them."

"Yes, Christine, take them, have you opera house sing them." He had suddenly become very bitter. It startled Christine.

"Erik, if you don't want them performed, then they will not be performed, but they are just so beautiful, and why let such brilliance go to waste?"

"Christine, it is not that I don't want them performed," His head dropped slightly, "It is just, oh I'm sorry, I am being selfish."

"Erik, how is that any different that than you used to be?" She let out a small laugh,"Please tell me what is wrong."

"Well, it is just, that if you take them back to the opera House, then you will be going back to that Raoul boy, and I will never see you again. And… oh…you weren't planning on staying here anyways, so what does it matter. Just my old heart wishing for a miracle."

Christine laughed happily.

"Oh, Erik, I will stay with you, Erik, I do love Raoul, but, he does not offer what I want. There is no music, no mystery, no adventure, no passion, no romance. Not like you. You are what I love. What I long for and what I need. Erik, tell me I can stay with you. And that you will not turn me away like you did last time?"

Christine sat down her back on the cold window. She had tears dripping down her pale cheeks. Her engagement ring lay on the wooden floor.

"My dear Christine, I will stay with you always."

He sat next to her and held her close to him, kissing away the rebellious tears. She laughed at him. She looked up into his dark eyes.

"Must you always wear the mask?"

"It frightens people, my face. I don't want to frighten you."

"You don't frighten me love."

With gentle fingers she pulled that mask away from his face. She kissed his face. His eyes, nose, cheeks, chin. Every inch of skin she could find was graced with her lips.

HHHHHHHHHHHHH

"Erik. Raoul will be wondering where I am. I must go back."

With a great sigh, Erik let her go. She stood up fixing her hair and dress.

"Tell me Christine; tell me you'll be back."

"Yes dear. I will be back. As soon as I can be. I will tell him, gather my things and return. I will never be from you after that."

He kissed her gently. And led her to the door.

As she walked down the long black street, his voice rang out to her.

"Vous seule pouvez faire prendre son envol à ma

chanson. Aidez-moi à faire la musique de la nuit."

She turned back to him, and smiled, waving, and blowing a kiss.

FIN

There you have it, the last phrase is "You alone can make my song take flight. Help me make the music of the night." I thought that that would incorporate the musical, but not to openly. "Minuit Tribunal" mean 'Midnight Court'. I thought it did it's justice.