Hi!

Um, just a comment on this chapter; the first half has no Erik; its more an exploration of what/who Ariel is, and WHY she's doing this. The second half is set 7 years after Erik's birth. And has Erik in it (obviously).

A reminder again, that this IS an E/C story, and NOT an E/OC story. However, Christine's not in this chapter.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter!

Chapter 3 - Angels

The Cathedral of the Archangels, 3 days after Erik's birth

"This is an outrage!" thundered a voice. Sighing, Michael turned.

"Hello, Raphael," Michael said politely.

"What do you mean hello, you useless fool?! Every time I see your miserable face it means that you've bungled yet another easy assignment!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Raphael!" Gabriel – who was lounging in his designated chair – said mildly, "don't you think that it's time for you to be silent now?"

"So what happened?" the Archangel of Water asked Michael, ignoring the spluttering Raphael. "Is it bad?"

Michael shrugged.

"Oh, the average world-could-unravel-into-a-chaotic-disorder-of-time-and-space problem."

"One of those? How boring…" Gabriel sighed.

"Um…but isn't that a bad thing, Master Michael?" Surprised, Michael looked at the direction from which the soft, timid voice had emerged.

"Oh, Sariel – it's been a while," Michael addressed the newest ark-angel, who – predictably – blushed.

"Don't worry, Sariel," said Gabriel, "the world's been on the brink of collapse so many times it's a wonder we even bother doing anything about it."

"Actually," Michael interjected, "this problem's slightly more worrying."

There was a pause.

"Why?"

Michael sighed.

"Because it's time-related."

There was another pause, which resounded with silent surprise and shock.

"Oh no…" groaned Gabriel, sagging back into his chair.

"This is all your fault, Michael, you and your goddamned female friend," Raphael growled. "What the hell possessed the Lord to make bloody female angels-"

"My, my, Raphael," a calm, cool voice reproached, "are you so far gone that you would question our Creator's will?"

As all 3 (well 4, really, counting Sariel) turned towards the newest entrant of the large, dome-shaped Hall of the Archangels, Uriel smiled slightly at Raphael.

"You may be seated," he added mildly, as he sat at the head of the table.

"Not like we were waiting for you, anyway," Raphael grumbled as he sank into the seat next to Michael.

"Now," Uriel began, "a problem seems to have occurred. Michael, I believe you were explaining when I arrived…?"

Michael nodded, resting his hands on the table before him.

"I've just managed to find out what she did" – no questions as to who she was – "and it's…not good."

"She split-streamed time."

As seemed to be the new habit, there was a pause when he stopped speaking.

"Split-streamed?" Uriel finally asked. Michael's eyes widened in shock.

"Please tell me you know what that is…" All the angels around the table shook their heads. Slowly, Michael released the breath he was holding, refusing to let what he had been about to say out of his mouth.

"You see, Michael," Gabriel said, having the grace to at least look slightly sheepish, "the two of you seemed to really enjoy handling all that sort of thing; so we left it to you."

Michael shrugged.

"I can't explain it properly; it was her theory, after all."

"Then it seems…" Uriel murmured, "That we will have to ask the lady ourselves. If the Lady would be so kind as to step forward?" he asked, not turning around in his seat as a woman stepped away from the shadows and walked confidently into the room.

Michael's eyes widened. No wings at her back; she's taken human form even here?!

"Hello, everyone!" she said cheerfully. "It's certainly been a while! Oh…" she added as an afterthought, "except for you, Michael, since I saw you yesterday."

"What is this, Michael – fraternisation with the enemy?" Raphael accused. The dark-haired woman rolled her eyes.

"Oh please, why do you have to be horrible to everyone, Raphael? If you really, really, really – fascinating, I'm starting to forget the meaning of the word "really" – anyway, if you want to know that much, he was telling me how annoying it would be for him to have to kill me."

Uriel attempted to interject with a question, but gave up in the face of the new-comer's speech.

"As for me being a "female friend" – I think you got it right just then, really; I was sleeping with him; not that hard to say it." She looked around, confused, at the averted, flushing faces of the archangels.

"What? Did I say something?"

"While this conversation is fascinating, my Lady," Uriel finally managed to say, "We need to ask you some questions."

"Ah!" she exclaimed, "the time slip! Of course; how silly of me. Well basically – speaking metaphorically, of course – I dammed off the river of time, created a side-stream, and so now it's slowly dripping its way through the now-uncarved soil of possibility."

There was silence, as the males tried – unsuccessfully – to process that.

"Could you repeat that again?" Gabriel asked, "and in a way that actually makes sense?"

The girl sighed.

"Let me try something else, then."

She closed her eyes, and thought.

Time is a river; yet its path is carved into the soils of space; of probability and chance. After the first waters flowed, so many millennia ago, all that we, as angels, have had to do is to ensure that the flow never ceases; thus, we have the ability to "travel through time" – when really, we are merely moving along the river faster than humanity is able to.

However…what happens if the river's waters are dammed? That is what has been done; the river has been dammed, and with the healing of the boy's face, the waters of time have begun to flow in a different direction, carving a new path through the soil.

Eventually, perhaps, they will combine with the original river; however, it all now depends on the one that, in another reality, they called the Phantom of the Opera.

She opened her eyes.

"Of course, that was all metaphorically speaking."

Gabriel frowned. "It makes sense – in a bizarre, twisted, deranged way." She smiled, and curtseyed.

"Why, thank you!"

"Wait…" Sariel murmured, and they all – the lady included – looked at the normally-mute archangel in surprise. "So does this mean we can't travel forward anymore?"

She nodded.

"Correct; right now, the furthest part of conceived time is at the point where Monsieur Destler is learning that baby food tastes horrendous."

"The fact remains, however," Raphael said, "that you have committed a crime – for which the punishment is destruction." He rose, and she backed away.

"That's a really bad idea, you know," she said nervously. The Fire Archangel raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"Because if you kill me," she said quickly, "then the dam collapses, you'll have two alternate realities, and a gap in the middle for the demons to get through."

He continued to walk towards her, but stopped as Uriel gave him a cautionary look.

"She has a point," Michael said thoughtfully.

"Of course I do!" she exclaimed, "I always have-"

"Be quiet, girl," Uriel said absentmindedly. "We will wait," he told the other angels, "we will wait until everything has…worked itself out…and then, Lady," he gave her a piercing look, "then you will be accountable for your actions."

She sighed, and, kneeling on the floor, eased herself into a cross-legged position.

"The reason I came here," she replied, "was to express my intention of not allowing you to harm me. I came here, to make a deal with you."

"A deal?"

"If Erik Destler and Christine Daaé do not end up together this time around, then I will submit myself for automatic destruction. If, however," she enunciated the "if" carefully, "if they fall in love, then on the day of their marriage, I will expect all of my…" her smile twisted slightly, "misdemeanours"….will be forgotten; and wiped off my record. And I will be free for the remainder of eternity."

Michael gasped; and not just him – from beside him, he heard Raphael's slight intake of breath.

She will bargain her existence on this…human!? He began to wonder if perhaps after all she really did love the Phantom.

Uriel's lips curled slightly in a wry smile.

"Very well."

He raised his hand slightly, silencing the cries of outrage from Raphael and Gabriel.

"This is my decision, on behalf of our Lord-"

"Oh, another thing!" she interrupted. "If I win, you will not tell Father. Agreed?" Uriel nodded.

"Good."

As she vanished into shadow, they felt her presence leave. Michael stood, catching one of his feathers just before it hit the ground.

"She was in human form," he commented. There was no reply from the others.

"What happens now…?" he mused to himself.

"We wait." Michael looked at his oldest brother, who was staring off into the distance.

"We wait…" Uriel sighed.

7 years after Erik's birth

"I don't quite understand, Mama."

Madeleine winced at the coolness of her son's tone.

"Erik, you were so rude to Monsieur Dupont – I really think its best that you have a new tutor."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I wasn't aware that I was even in need of a tutor, Mama."

Madeleine frowned, about to remonstrate with her son, when she heard a knock on the door. Her face brightened.

"Erik, you are to stay here – do you understand?" He nodded, and she walked rapidly – almost running – to open the door.

A short, slender young woman – more girl, really – stood there, nervous expression on her face, and Madeleine's delight faded. The girl curtseyed, the simple elegance of the gesture taking the older woman's breath away.

"I'm sorry, but may I speak to Madame Destler?" the stranger asked, her voice timid yet bell-like.

Madeleine smiled, trying to conceal her disappointment.

"Yes, that is me; and who might you be, dear?" she asked kindly.

The girl smiled.

"I saw your advertisement for a tutor for your son, Madame – I sent a letter some weeks ago, informing you that I would be coming…?"

"Oh!" Madeleine gasped. "Come in, please!"

As the stranger nodded gratefully and stepped inside the house, Madeleine examined her dubiously. Short – barely shoulder-length – hair framed her small face, its pale blonde, almost white colouring pleasing against her complexion.

"So, Mademoiselle…?"

The shorter woman gasped.

"I'm sorry!" She curtseyed again. "Rachael Lancaster, at your service, Madame Destler."

"You are not French, Mademoiselle?" The girl shook her head.

"English, Madame – and please, call me Rachael."

Madeleine sighed.

"Mademoi- Rachael, I am sorry but I'm not sure that such a young tutor for my son…"

"Oh, please, Madame!" Rachael pleaded, "I need a job; I have near to no money, and I have been well-educated, I swear by the Lord's name!"

Watching Rachael beg, almost in tears, Madeleine's heart went out to the unfortunate girl. She released a breath.

"Very well," she said, resigned. I should at least give her a chance…Madeleine thought.

Rachael looked up, her face transformed by an expression of pure delight.

"Thank you so much, Madame!" Madeleine smiled weakly.

"It is nothing," she said, leading the new tutor to where her son is.

"Erik is in that room," Madeleine told Rachael, indicating the room. "I need to go to the village, but I will return in two hours."

Rachael's pale brow wrinkled slightly as she frowned.

"But surely the boy will become hungry; it is nearly time for lunch!"

Madeleine shrugged, unconcerned.

"He doesn't eat very much food." The frown remained on Rachael's face.

"Then that will have to change…"

The older woman smiled indulgently at the girl's naivety – it was impossible to force a child to eat; especially a child such as Erik was.

"I will leave now," she continued, walking back to the door, "Good luck!"

Rachael smiled slightly, before turning back to the entrance to the room where her new pupil was.

She closed her eyes, and then opened them again.

If Madeleine had been there, she would have been shocked by the change that seemed to ripple through the girl; the passive, mild eyes hardened, and the intelligence that Madeleine had only seen glimpses of transformed them into glowing emeralds. Her stance, so ladylike and meek before, became confident, powerful. Throwing open the door, she strode in, her new pupil looking up in surprise from the floor, where he was sketching the foundations of a cathedral.

"Who are you?" he asked, politely wary. She smiled.

"Me?" she echoed. "How terrible of you, Erik!" she said in mock surprise, "Why, I'm your new tutor."

His eyes widened – this girl was his tutor?!

"What is your name?" he queried, slight fear in his tone.

She dropped her small bag uncaringly to the floor, and leant against the wall.

"I have many names, Erik," she told him, "but you may call me Ariel." She looked closer at his work. "Oh, and you're drawing that wrong."

His eyes narrowed.

"Really?"

She nodded cheerfully.

The next chapter's going to be set a bit later than this.

And yes, Ariel's become his tutor.

And yes, she's using a fake name.

And yes, Erik finds out about it.

As for the river theory thing; I'll clarify it if you ask me.

So should Christine come in next chapter, or the chapter after? And should I drop the whole switching to the angels every now and then and concentrate solely on Erik (and Christine when she comes in) or should I keep the subplot going?

Reviews are appreciated, and give me incentive to work on this story (though it is quite fun to do) - so please review!