Paris July 22nd 1883
Erik sat alone in front of his desk, desperately thumbing through documents of his past. It had been five years since he last attempted to venture into the world of the living. He remembered every moment clearly.
She had been standing there with her eyes aglow. He was certain he had seen love in the fleeting glances she had given him. She had kissed him. It was no kiss of pity. It was a soft and tender kiss, yes, but beneath the surface there was a lingering sensual passion. It was too strong for either to deny. The kiss ended, much to his dismay. It was then that he returned to reality, noticing the whole of Paris staring at them. It was the final scene from his opera, in which he was going to steal Christine away. "Christine" he breathed feverishly. Oh how her name struck his heart as cursed himself for saying it aloud as if in the throws of passion. She stood there gazing deep into his eyes. Her tear filled ones reflected a sadness he had not seen in them just moments before. Then, at once she had turned and run into the arms of that boy.
A rack of sobs now seized him as he fumbled to loosen his cravat. He felt as if he were suffocating. True, it had been years since he had visited the memories of that night. Nonetheless he could recall it with such detail that it pained him now as much as it had then. It was then that he returned to the task of finding his most precious document he had been searching for. Frantically he tore through the drawers of his desk. He had to find it, he just had to. For it would change his and Christine future forever. With no luck in locating it in his desk, he turned to his night table. By the time he was done looking everywhere he could think to look, his home was just short of looking like a natural disaster had occurred. He needed some air and time to ponder where on earth he cold have put this "special" document.
Erik threw his cloak around his shoulders and headed out of his home into the darkened streets of Paris. With no direction or thought as to where he was going, he headed in to only direction he should not have traversed. He was headed straight for the de Changy's estate. Had he known when he started out where he was to end up, he would have made damn sure to have what he was looking for all night with him.
Three quarters of an hour later Erik found himself standing outside of the estates entrance. The night had turn bitterly cold and a storm threatened to break. Oddly enough Erik had not noticed the change in temperature or the impending dark clouds closing in all around him. He had found Christine's room almost instantly as his eyes scanned the enormous manors exterior. Hers was the only room giving off a faint glow of candle light. That was not what had made him able to ascertain this to be her room. What had told him distinctly that this was Christine's room was the almost inaudible sound of her voice. Erik had acquired an acute hearing sense down in the depths of the cellars out of necessity. Yet that was not why he was able the discern Christine's voice. He had trained that voice, fallen in love with it and then the woman whom it belonged to. That voice spoke to his very soul, and at this very moment that voice was undeniably filled with heart wrenching despair.
As Erik ascended to the balcony he was met with a horrifying site. His precious Christine was curled upon the floor cover her nearly naked form. He could see she had be bloodied from head to toe. Large bruises swelling across her thighs and about her face. His breath suddenly caught as he heard her speak seemingly to no one. "Angel, please, please come for me. You promised me to come for me. Please angel!" Christine began to cough violently. Then he heard all he had needed to. "Erik, please come back to me. Please save me from these nights of unending horror"
Erik unlatched the window and was at her side instantly. He lightly brushed her soft curls from her face and whispered, "Hush now my Christine, Erik has come for his angel"
"Angel?" she breathed. Christine swooned and darkness overtook her. Erik riffled through the room to find a blanket to cover her with. As he returned to her side he noticed she was holding a piece of paper.
"Could it be?" he thought. He brought the blanket to her shoulders and wrapped her tightly. He them managed to take the paper from her sleeping grip.
There it was. What he had been searching for. He turned it over and it read;
"Masked genius and protégé light up the stage in London's West End. Opening night to be July 22nd 2010"