It took all of the courage I possessed. I had been slowly coming to realisation that my angel of music was not divine – he was but a man, flesh and blood. If I cut him, he must surely bleed. But if I did this… surely, it would be his death. I saw the love that shone from his eyes, unreserved and pure. It was true that this love had been the cause of many horrible incidents. Looking at it, though, I could see nothing in his eyes but uncomplicated adoration. It was hard to admit, even to myself, that I felt cruel for being unable to return Erik's feelings. I, who had been so wronged by him, felt cruel towards him…

In the end, it was a simple act. I took his ravaged face between my hands, and as softly as I dared, I kissed his dead lips. My own recoiled from the lack of heat; I had kissed Raoul before, and knew what living lips felt like. I felt his astonishment, swiftly followed by my own as I involuntarily deepened the kiss, feeling the dark desire grow within me, that elusive and baffling reaction that Erik and Erik alone seemed to provoke in me. This was what terrified me more than anything. I had been a stranger to longings of the heart – since my father passed away, grief was my constant companion. Despite everything, I was still a child. Emotionally underdeveloped. This did not explain the way my Phantom spoke to me, in a language of music and silence that only we could understand.

My mind rationalised that this was all for Raoul. I kissed dead lips for Raoul's sake, to save him. I knew that if I did something so unexpected, an act of pure compassion to a man who had known nothing of the kind… there was a chance that he might react in a way that would surprise us all. My heart had other things to say. It rushed to my throat, blocking all words as I broke away from Erik, my eyes wide and my head spinning. He stared at me, as one of his long, thin hands went to his lips, not quite touching. In that moment, I recognised that I was entirely his. My body, my mind, my heart and my soul, they all belonged to a man, a monster, a phantom. As awareness returned to his amber eyes, I could see that he saw this too. A thousand emotions flitted across his face… bittersweet triumph chased fear, indecision, love, hate, sorrow, black despair, rage…

Suddenly, he shouted, "Take her! Leave me! Do not let them find you…" I could see the tears slipping down his mottled cheeks, hear the break in his beautiful voice as he sobbed midsentence. What did he just say?

I stood dumbstruck. This was the outcome I had wanted. Free to leave with my betrothed. Why, then, did it feel like something had been ripped from my heart, and it was bleeding on the floor?

"Christine! Let us leave!" Raoul yelled, his unpolished, rough, childish voice pulling me from my reverie. Mechanically, I rushed over to him and tried to untie him. After a while, I was successful, and he was pulling my hands, grabbing me around the waist, trying to get me to respond rationally – to run, as far away from this evil monster as I could. Run, Christine, run. Run, little Lotte!

But as Raoul dragged me towards the boat, I looked back, and saw the slumped shoulders that once were so straight and rigid. He looked at something in his hands, and I saw his back heave with a sob. I had known this would happen. My terror of him, of what he made me feel, had caused me to hurt him like this. For Raoul. I loved Raoul, didn't I? So why did I think these things?

"Wait," I said. Raoul looked at me as if I were insane.

"Christine," he said urgently, "we must get out of here, the sooner the better. Away from that creature…"

"Just wait," I said quickly, and kissed him on his living, perfect, smooth cheek. It felt strange, after having touched dead flesh. It felt… I did not think I even wanted to confess to myself what it felt like.

Wrong.

I rushed over to Erik. I was wearing his wedding dress, carrying nothing… nothing but the ring Raoul had given me. He did not look up, even though I knew he heard me. His shoulders tensed, as if suddenly he were waiting for fight or flight. As I drew closer, I heard. He was singing under his breath, little golden notes that drove into my ears like arrows. Would I ever hear his beautiful voice again? Would I ever sing with my angel again?

I knelt down beside him, and instantly his eyes snapped to me. There was fathomless despair there… I wanted to cry. A treacherous tear slid down my cheek, and I tasted salt. I took the ring off my finger slowly and deliberately, placing it in his palm. I was careful not to touch him, to reignite that frightening feeling.

He looked at the ring wearily, as if it were the final burden that broke his back, and then gradually turned his tearful gaze to me. In a voice shaking with sorrow, burning with passion, he whispered, "Christine… I love you…"

I could not reply. Suddenly, my eyes swam with tears, and I looked away, lest I break down. I ran back to my safe, secure, mundane lover, and clambered onto the boat to stand beside him. I wrapped my arms around his strong frame, and reminded myself what a living man felt like. Why I loved this particular one. It was strange, how our innocent game of hearts had so swiftly turned serious. From the first time I had seen him at the Opera Populaire, I remembered him. The boy who had saved my scarf. The boy who, too, knew my father's stories of the angel of music. Fondness rushed back to me, and I told the angel in the mirror of my joy. How it all began. I was so young then… and I am still so young now. Still a child yet, but not as much as before. I was learning it all as I went along. How I could feel so happy and secure in one set of arms, and terrified, confused and intoxicated in another.

Raoul pushed off the bank, and I turned to look behind, just once more. There he stood, utterly defeated. No masks, not any more. Our eyes met, and once more, that dark and desperate feeling grew inside me, a warmth that made me feel alive, as if I were standing barefoot in a snowdrift, mere moments before hypothermia set in.

The soft sounds of splashing measured out a rhythmic beat, and I felt like singing… I wanted to make music with Erik, like we did before. Invoking heaven with our voices… Tonight, the angels wept… My tearful reply… Tonight, I have given you my soul…

I was just as confused as before. I loved Raoul, I really did… he was like an unseasonably warm spring day. The chill of winter remains, but you stretch out on the grass in the sunshine, and feel the warmth of the brave sun, promises of long and languorous days to come. Then there were the other feelings. I would like to ignore them. They brought nothing but heartache and anxiety. But they were integral to my journey from child to woman. I was not even close to completing that particular passage, but I was no longer entirely innocent and naive. As much as I did not like it, Erik had, and is helping me to grow up.

We turned around a column supporting the roof of the supernaturally still lake, and suddenly the mournful eyes fixed on mine were gone. All the breath left my lungs, and I squeezed Raoul more tightly, just to assure myself that everything would, will be, must be all right.

Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime… say the word and I will follow you…

My body followed with alacrity, but my mind was lost, dwelling on the enigma of what I had left behind.

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A/N: My first shot at a Phantom fic. Mixture of Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber, interspersed with how it goes in my head. Mostly trying to be faithful to Leroux. Hope you enjoyed – please R&R. I own nothing! If reviews are okay, will continue – have written chapter 2! :)