So, this is my first published phic. As I tend to be a harsh critic, I expect no less from you fine viewers out there. Flames, concrit, roses, I'll take anything, I'm poor.

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Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime.

Christine smiled softly at Raoul as they proclaimed their love aloud. He held his hand out for her to get out of the boat (then proceeded to wipe it on his pants after she touched it explaining that she had touched the Phantom and he really couldn't have that on his soft, clean hands now, could he?) and together, they climbed through a grate out onto the street. The still emotionally wrought young diva wrung her dress out a bit and walked over to the smoldering opera house. Carlotta was crying into the shoulder of Firmin and Andre was patting her back a bit and looked like he might have shed a few tears himself.- or that could have been the smoke. A young boy was roasting a chestnut over a burning chair. Christine continued to gaze around the crowd of the scared and wealthy until her eyes united with the steely gray ones of Madame Giry. And what an angry Giry she was. She stormed over to Christine and Raoul, who was shivering holding Christine's hand again.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Madame Giry screeched at Christine. "And with him?" She gestured at the still-trembling Raoul.

"We g-got away f-f-from the Phantom, " Raoul chattered. Christine wondered to herself why she wasn't cold as well. She was too out of sorts to really think clearly and before she could truly work through the mess she'd just escaped, Madame Giry distracted her with wild, and somewhat alarming, finger waving.

"You stupid girl! Why are you up here with the Vicomte?!"

"Now hold on," Raoul stepped in bravely. 'More bravely than he had behaved in the Phantom's lair at any rate,' thought Christine who then shushed herself from any more rebellious thoughts about the man she had chosen. "I just saved her from that crazed maniac. She's still in shock, look at her!"

Madame Giry peered at Christine then glared back at Raoul. "You saved her from no one. She'd have been better off with Erik."

"Who's Erik?" Christine finally spoke up.

"The Phantom's real name. You didn't think he went around nameless, did you silly child?"

Christine thought about this. It's not like any of the songs sung the past few days said his name, or explained who he was. In fact, she really hadn't even considered the idea that the Phantom had even had a name. She frowned. How awful. How much more inconsiderate could she have been? But Madame Giry interrupted her thoughts once more.

"But that's beside the point. Young lady, I did everything in my power to make poor Erik happy and you went and left him for this fop?"

Christine was startled. "What? What are you talking about, he held Raoul hostage and threatened to kill him. Why would I want to be with that forever?"

"Missy, you know as well as I do that he was just desperate and you also know that Erik has a…shall we say, flair for the dramatic?"

"But he killed Joseph Buquet!"

"Yes, that same Buquet that tried to feel you up one evening when he was drunk. Erik wants to protect you. If you tell him that you aren't comfortable with his killing your fiance, he'll understand." Madame Giry explained all this as though she were speaking to a child.

"Well, she made her choice and that's that," snapped Raoul petulantly.

"You shut up!" snarled the ballet teacher. "I tried to get rid of you by ditching you right before the trap door into the water, but no. You had to survive, didn't you?"

"What?" cried the young lovers in unison.

"But that's all in the past," Madame Giry said hastily. "Christine, get your little diva behind down there this instant and tell Erik you'll be with him. Come now, you know that you won't be happy with this man forever. His hair is shinier than yours. Can you really live with that?"

"Hmm…good point," murmered Christine softly. "I suppose I should return."

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A few minutes later as Madame Giry was covertly signalling to Meg to console Raoul (after all, both of their hair glistenings were of equal shine. They would match up well.) Christine stepped back out of the boat and strolled over to the broken mirrors.

"Angel? Mon ange? Where are you?"

"Christine? Is that you?"

"Oh! Yes it is! I don't see you though…"

"See the cluster of mirrors? Lift up the curtain on the one on the left and I'm here. I'd come out, but I cut my leg on a piece of broken glass. Perhaps breaking all the glass in the place wasn't my best escape plan, but I always forget which mirror has the passageway behind it. I thought the curtain would help but…I was a bit out of sorts when the mob rushed down here."

"Oh, did they find you?" Christine lifted the curtain and saw Erik on the ground with his shirt wrapped around his leg. She made to look back up at his face, but her eyes stopped on his very bare chest. Very nicely lined bare chest.

"Ahem. My face is up here." Erik paused after saying this. He'd never thought that he (as a man) would say something like that…but he now understood the annoyance of speaking to someone who was staring elsewhere. Although he was somewhat delighted that she couldn't take her eyes off of him.

"Right. So, I've come back. I love you," Christine said rather monotonously. She sounded a bit nervous though. 'If monotony could sound anxious,' Erik pondered. 'Maybe it would be ditony…as she had a mixture of tones of anxiousness and that tone that the word "monotone" conveys. That undescribable tone.' But now was not the time for particulars. He could not lose her again.

"Well, how can I trust you this time?"

"Duh..I came back."

"But you might leave again."

Christine considered this. It was true. She could leave again. But then she noted the sheen of his hair. It was quite a bit duller than hers. That settled it, she would never leave Erik again.

The lioness paced back and forth, her eyes never leaving his. She paused, and then went into a crouch.

"Um, Christine? Why are you crouching at me?"

Then she pounced. And a better kiss has never been recorded.

The End.

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