Author's Note: This one-shot came into play after the night I had seen the tour cast perform for the last time in my city. The staging during 'All I Ask of You' was rather unique. So much, in fact, it reminded me of the Leroux novel. I came home and decided to write a one-shot echoing that very staging.

The Raoul in this story echoes that of Steve Barton's portrayal. The Christine resembles Rebecca Caine. :D

( For those who are reading my sequel novel, 'The Games We Play', the fourth chapter is almost complete. So do not fret! You shall see an update on that soon. I have not decided if this story ties in at all, because my story is a mixture of Leroux and Webber. So that is up to you. )

I hope you enjoy!

The moon was high over Paris, France that evening of June 19th, 1886.

"Raoul, follow me! To the roof, we'll be safe there!" A woman's voice cried, muffled by stone and steel. There, on the roof of the Opera Garnier, two shadows emerged.

A performance of Il Muto was being performed inside. But at the moment, it was being detained by the chaos that had erupted onto the stage five minutes before.

Joseph Buquet, backstage worker and well known to the company of those who worked at the Opera house, was killed in front of everyone. His neck was rung by a strand of catgut dangling high from the flies. It was no accident, it was murder.

The two shadows who had just emerged into the glow of the moonlight were two people of different statures.

Christine Daae, chorus girl and ballet dancer.

Raoul De'Chagny, Viscount and patron of the Opera Garnier.

Raoul De'Chagny was a handsome fellow. Even when wearing a coat over his evening clothes, he still retained the dignity that a patron could give. But being the age of 24, he still was quite young and boyish in his charms.

Christine was younger than Raoul, her mannerisms and voice retained that youthfulness. And all though that was not sought after by many, Raoul enjoyed it because it reminded them of when they were children and they had met those years ago. Those were happy times…

Now, both of them were incased in invisible threads of fear, drawn to the mystery of what had just happened on the stage.

"Christine," Raoul asked, raking a hand through his blonde hair, "why are we here? What is the reason for bringing me to the roof? We should return. I mean…" He closed his eyes, holding his hand to his mouth. His thoughts went back to the man he had just saw hanging lifelessly over the stage. He felt like he was going to vomit.

When he opened his eyes, Christine was searching the roof top madly. Her brown curly hair was wildly blowing in the breeze, as well as the long costumed cloak. She was dressed in the gown she had just acquired from the current star of the Opera Garnier.

"Raoul," she said, hurrying back to him, clutching his shoulders, "we cannot go back down there. It's dangerous. He'll find me, he'll find you!"

"Christine," he said, removing his hand from his lips, his brows arching. "Who?"

"The Opera Ghost!" She cried. She then ripped her hands away from his shoulders, wrapping them around her frame. She started pacing frantically back and forth. "He's there, oh he's waiting for me to return to the stage, Raoul. I cannot go back! I cannot go back down there."

"Christine," Raoul said, making a move towards her as she paced wildly. "This Opera Ghost… he doesn't exist!"

Christine stopped in her tracks, shooting him a glare. She looked wild, unhinged. "He doesn't exist?" She hurried to Raoul, pulling him away from the door of the roof. "What do you mean? You heard him? You heard his voice. You saw what he did! He… murdered that man!"

"How do you know?" Raoul asked, trying to find reason with her words. "He is no ghost!"

"He appears to be, and he may as well be one to you… but I know who he is! He will hunt you down, he will find us both." With a gasp, she wrapped her arms around her shoulders once more. "He may be with us right now…"

"Christine, why do you fear him? Who is he? What does he want?" Raoul asked softly. "Why does he hold so much power over you?"

"Oh Raoul," she whispered, "If you only knew… if you only understood!"

Raoul found himself fuming. She had just demanded them to venture to the roof while the entire theatre was wondering where they had gone to, and while a man's dead body was shown for all to see. And she questioned his understanding in the situation.

"I know exactly who he is, Christine," he said, in a matter of fact tone. "I heard his voice, yes, in your dressing room!"

Christine gasped.

"Yes!" Raoul continued, watching Christine's reaction. "He spoke to you that night, the night when we first met one another again… you called him a name. Angel of Music, I heard you say!"

"No," she whispered, "swear to me that is not what you heard!"

"That is exactly what I heard, Christine," Raoul said, "I will testify that before God if I must. I understand now what you meant by your Angel of Music had come to you. It is him! This called Opera Ghost! He is the one who has taught you to sing."

Christine turned from him, and hurried to large statue of Apollo playing the lyre. Raoul followed her.

"Do you run from me because I have figured out your secret?" Raoul asked.

"Raoul," Christine cried, "I brought you here to confess to you! I care for you, my dear friend. I care for your safety more than my own…"

Raoul was taken aback by her words. "Do you honestly mean that?"

Christine remained silent. Raoul ventured another step towards Christine.

"Christine," he said softly, "what is it that he has done to you?"

She hesitated and the hung her head in shame. "He has never harmed me, Raoul. Never! He would never hurt me. But, he wants so much more from me … more than I can give."

"What do you mean?"

"Raoul, he wants to marry me!" She held up her hand, showing a gold band on her ring finger. She raised her head, her eyes beseeching Raoul to understand. "Do you see? Do you what I have brought upon us all?"

Raoul took a few steps closer to her, nearer to her than before. He reached out and took her hand. Gently, he brushed his fingers across her knuckles, then to her ring. He inspected the gold band. It was a simple band, but intended for marriage.

She removed her hand from his, pulling the cloak more tightly around her face. "My childish wonder, my false hopes and dreams… in the end, they mean nothing. A man has died, and it is because of me!" She closed her eyes, tears falling silently down her face.

"But yet," she whispered softly, "I find it not in my heart to hate him for his treatment to me."

"Tell me," Raoul implored, "I want to know about him. This man, for every tear you shed Christine, it pains me to know he is the cause of each one." He reached into his coat, pulling out a handkerchief. Striding to her, he gently took a hold of her chin with his hand. Slowly, he dabbed away at her tears.

She closed her eyes, her face softening at the warmth radiating from his fingers. When he was done with his task, he lowered his handkerchief. His hand still lingered.

Raoul had never seen something so painfully beautiful. Gently, he took her hood and lowered it from her face. And, like the young boy who received a kiss on the shores of _ , he asked for one more. Though, no longer a child, he lowered his lips to hers.

She hesitated, but with her heart beating wildly, her hands almost seemed to move at her own accord. Around his neck her hands went, and he tightened his on her waist. Raoul was the first to break away, to inspect her face for any sign of disapproval of what he had just done.

Christine's eyes opened, and she smiled. Without another word, she embraced him tightly. He returned the tight embrace.

"Christine," he whispered on the wind. But he was surprised by the echo, possessing a tone unlike his own. Christine broke away from him, her eyes wildly searching the skies and the shadows of the pillars that adorned the silence.

"Raoul, what was that?"

He wondered what it was too. Gently, breaking away from her, he went to go inspect the area. Could it be that their Phantom had followed them to the roof? Even without a ceiling, he could still adorn to the shadows and preside over all?

Finding nothing, he turned back to look at Christine. She stood there, her hands pressed in prayer. She was now on the edge of the roof, the wind causing her to sway lightly.

"Christine," he called, holding out his hand.

She looked to him, and picking up her skirts, she hurried to him. Once she was at an arm length, he pulled her into his embrace once more. His hands buried into her hair as well as his lips, kissing the top of her head to soothe her.

"No more, Christine, no more will you be plagued by this demon of the night. In time, you may reveal your secrets. But for now, I am here. I am always here, to protect you and to guide you into the light."

"All I ask Raoul," She whispered, "is that you be beside me, now and forever. Promise me, Raoul, please?"

"I swear to it Christine," he said instantly. "What do you ask of me? Tell me what you desire, and I shall do everything in my power to protect you."

"Freedom, Raoul," she said earnestly, "freedom from the chains in which he has bound around me."

Raoul thought about this, his hands tightening around her waist. "Come with me, come to my flat. I have a spare room for you. Please, I will not be relieved unless you are safe."

Christine nodded. "I will go with you, Raoul."

"Christine, I would go anywhere you'd ask of me to go, anywhere at all!" He slowly fell to his knees, holding her hands within his. "Would you do the same?"

She knelt down, staring into his eyes. "Yes," she said, "I would. Oh Raoul, I would!"

They were silent, wondering if one another understood their vows as being something more significant to the other. Raoul leaned in and kissed her lips, and she pulled herself to him.

"Do you, Raoul De'Chagny, love me with all your heart?" Christine asked breathlessly.

"You know I do, Christine. I loved you from the moment I saw you…" He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. She smiled, cradling his raised hand within her smaller one.

"Oh Raoul," she breathed, tears coming to her eyes.

Raoul urged her to her feet, and hoisted her into the air. He twirled her around, and she closed her eyes and outstretched her arms. He was blessed to see her so happy. Especially after everything that has happened tonight…

Tonight! The performance! The murder!

Christine seemed to realize this as well, and she opened her eyes instantly. She placed her hands on her shoulders, urging him to put her down. And he did so instantly. They both looked to the door leading back inside.

"Do you wish to leave now?" He gently pulled her to the door. "Say the word, my love."

She nodded. Though she turned around to stare at statue of Apollo, and her face turned white.

"Christine, whatever is the matter?"

"I don't know Raoul, I feel as though we are being watched…"

"There is no one here, Christine," he said, looking around, "we would have known if we had been followed." He pulled her gently to the door. "You have been through enough. I will not let your mind wander to the darkness that which you fear."

Christine turned to Raoul, nodding, and hurrying along with him to the inside of the theatre. Though something pulled at the back of her mind, she tried to let that disappear. All what mattered was the boy who she loved so dearly, with all her heart, willing to save her from the unknown.

But, if she had only stared harder, she would have seen that the statue of Apollo had two human hands. The hands slithered down the body of the statue and then rejoined a pair of arms and a body clouded completely in formal attire. The figure fell to the ground, wailing into the night:

"Christine, oh Christine! Why must you betray me like so!"

The gloved hands of the dark being clawed at the ground and when it brushed over a small object, it picked it up and held it to its eyes. The ring that had adorned Christine's finger had once again returned to its owner.

"This is not over, my dearest Christine. I will not give into defeat so easily… you will learn, Christine! You and your Viscount will learn…"