Author's Note:

This story picks up after the musical PHANTOM OF THE OPERA. The characters do not belong to me. That privilege belongs to Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber.

The chatter in the chorus dormitory had finally stilled to silence as Christine twisted in her bed sheets. Sleep would not come. She had only to close her eyes to relive the events of the past two weeks.

The opening performance of Don Juan Triumphant that was never completed. The chilling realization that it was not Piangi onstage with her. Her very public unmasking of Erik onstage, and how he had twisted her arm and dragged her offstage past Piangi's dangling corpse. The maniacal descent to Erik's underground lair where he had all but torn her clothes off to get her to put on the wedding dress. The dress, which was now discarded somewhere in the opera house and replaced with something "more appropriate," as Raoul had said.

It was late Thursday night. Many of the girls sleeping in the room with her would watch her wed Raoul on Sunday afternoon. Much of the last several days was a blur of meeting distant de Chagny relatives, choosing new dresses for her honeymoon (with much help from her future sister-in-law), and signing off on a barrage of wedding plans Raoul's mother had put together. And here she was only days from waking up to church bells and a new life. Her fingers reached for Raoul's ring now hanging on a chain from her throat.

Her thoughts raced back to her last moments with Erik. She closed her eyes and again thought of the kiss. It had been full of both desire and desperation as she crushed her mouth to his clumsy lips, while all the while painfully aware of Raoul suffering in the hangman's noose behind them. And then it was over. Raoul was freed and Erik was ushering them out. It had all happened so fast.

Christine sat up in her bed and looked around, grateful to be the only one still awake. Meg's bed was next to hers, and in the dim light she could see the girl's pale curls peeking out from under the bedding. Christine had come into the room the night Raoul rescued her feeling as if she were in a trance. She's simply gone and sat on the edge of her bed, but had heard Raoul's firm instructions to Meg: Do not leave her alone, take good care of her, it's only for tonight.

Of course Raoul had truly expected them to run away together that night. After the boat had glided onto the other side of the shore in the Opera's catacombs, he had hopped out of and practically carried her up the stairs to the main levels. It has been awkward, of course. There were many short phrases of encouragement such as "watch your step," and "are you alright?" But he had not really looked her into the eye until after they'd safely escaped the commotion in the main hall of the Opera.

He'd lifted her into his carriage and shut the door behind him and disappeared for some minutes. There were people in the streets, throngs of both onlookers and audience members, and she was grateful that no one had noticed her presence in the carriage. Raoul returned and shut the door behind him, and the carriage began moving away from the Opera House. Christine stared at her feet.

"Raoul," she'd began.

"Christine," he sighed, his hands reaching for hers, which remained sitting limply in her lap.

She'd looked up at him then. "I'd like to go home tonight."

Raoul had looked quite puzzled. "To the chorus dormitories? I do not think that is wise."

She'd shaken her head. "I'll be fine there. Meg and I sleep in the same room and I truly am exhausted."

"Are you sure?"

She'd nodded and he dropped his eyes away from hers. The carriage changed course, and after leaving her with Meg, Raoul had gone. With little hesitation he'd agreed to let her sleep here in her bed, at least one more night. That night had turned into two, and then to three as they both got caught up in their wedding plans – Raoul in his enthusiasm, Christine in her distractions.

By now Christine was slowly pacing the edge of the room along the high narrow window while carefully trying to avoid waking the others. She remembered that long, painful first night. For a long while it had just been her and Meg in here. By the time that the other company girls had come in, Christine was in bed, her back turned to them, and feigned a fine impression of actually being asleep.

"She's exhausted," she'd heard Meg hiss at them when they began to ask questions. "Please girls, let us talk of it all tomorrow."

Christine thought again and again of Erik. Meg said she had led the mob down to his house. They had found no trace of him except his mask, which had been smashed along with most of the home's contents.

"What will happen to it all," she'd asked as Meg was helping her undress.

Meg leaned in and whispered, "I expect they'll take it all and burn it. But don't you worry about that. You are safe now."

Safe from him? Had he truly ever hurt her? Would he have? She looked down at her hands and thought about the ring he'd tried to give her. But why had she gone back to return it? To be more cruel?

She missed him. Maybe not yet, she decided. When he had just been an unearthly voice in her waking dreams, his impatience with her had sometimes meant that she might go for several days or even weeks without hearing him. She would be able to survive a few weeks, but…then what?

"Oh no," she whispered to no one, staring vacantly into the room's darkness. She'd made the completely right decision for everyone but herself, she realized. A new life with Raoul, she thought, perhaps even as his wife if he'd still have her. A new name, a new house, a new world. An idea that had only a few days before brought her great joy now seemed to still her heart to the point of not being able to breathe.

I have to find you, she thought, and then realized how crazy it would sound if she were to say it aloud. But suddenly she was padding as quietly and quickly as she could to her wardrobe and frantically trying to dress without waking the entire floor. If you are alive, if you will still have me, Erik, I choose you. She smiled to herself as she found her garments. Yes, it did sound perfectly crazy, but it was the right decision.

A few minutes later, she was on foot, bound for the Opera House.