New update at last! :D Sorry it took that long, but I really felt I needed to go a bit slower for this chapter, so I couldn't post it earlier, not until I was at least 95% satisfied by how it turned out. And I still think it's not perfect yet.

Now, before diving into our favorite's Phantom dreams, just a few notes on the side:

.:NOTE One:. I'm a lavender freak, so shoot me.

.:NOTE Two:. The melody of Christine's song, as you might notice, was entirely based on Disney Cinderella's "Sing Sweet Nightingale". I BLAME MY KID SISTER FOR THAT! Few days before her 18th birthday, she decided to watch all Disney Classics and the song stuck to my head like glue and I couldn't get it out for days for the life of me. But the text is entirely mine and I guess you can find the song on YouTube just so you can have a general idea of its melody.

.:NOTE Two and a Half:. Though the story is based on musical, I don't think I'll have more than five songs in the entire story, if that! So, don't worry, you won't be chocked to death by them. Probably by tons of other stuff, but not by them. :]

.:NOTE Three:. Speaking of songs, while writing those darker parts of Erik's dream, I listened to "A Far Cry" from The Vision of Escaflowne OST and "The Doctor's Theme" from Doctor Who OST, a song that ran from season 1 through 3. I listened to this song especially towards the end of the chapter. These might help with the atmosphere.

.:NOTE Four:. I realized I'll most probably use the book "Phantom" by Susan Key as sort of mini-guideline. The most obvious influence by it was the Mirror Monster and the Angry Woman. For those who haven't read it yet, I guess even the Wikipedia is enough to figure out what and who those two are, but if you're patient with me, all will be revealed in time. ;]

And before we continue, thanks for the reviews on previous chapter and for following the story. :)

The last thing he saw was an infinite sea of lavender flowers… and he was now standing in the middle of that sea. Narrow strips of grassy paths ran in between dense rows of lavender shrubs that stretched as far as the eye could see. The gentle breeze fondled with its invisible fingers the long stems wreathed in whorls of small, pale violet flowers and they swayed gracefully, in undulating waves.

He had a feeling he could touch the sky if he were to reach for it, that's how extremely open it was above him, limitless and infinite. And that immense blue faded closer it was to the horizon, finally disappearing within a stretch of clouds, pale pinkish and lilac, as though reflecting the color of the flowers beneath them.

And right in between this seemingly endless field of lavender flowers and the fading blue of the sky spread a ring of a lavish green expanse, the forest serving as a boundary amid the two. There, he saw a shroud of fine mist, hovering above the treetops and the fiery orb of the sun diving into it in a steady pace.

As the day was gradually yielding to evening, the air felt soothingly cool and fresh. A peculiar fragrance wafted through it like a veil of finest silk. Commonly strong, spicy scent of the lavender flowers was dulled with another, sweet and mellow, almost like a vanilla, though more subtle, unobtrusive. It was coming from a single tree swathed in white, at the foot of the gently sloping hill, dominating the vast sea of grayish-green and lavender colors.

He allowed his eyes to close, but almost immediately regretted it. His legs wobbled once he was washed over with the intoxicating fragrance of the flowers surrounding him. And that sweet scent coming from the tree… it was familiar, though he could not decide on what it was.

Was this how death looks like? He wondered and instantly refused the thought. He felt out of place here. This immeasurable beauty, nearly painful and deceiving, was not meant for ones such as he. This peace and tranquility permeating his very core and making him wish to remain here forever was something he was not worthy of.

He extended his hand sideways, let it linger above the violet, spear-like plants. The tips grazed against his palm, caressing it. A ghost of a smile flitted across his lips. This heavenly place awoke great regret in him. Regret for not having done things differently, for not striving to become someone uninfluenced by his turbulent, dark past. Regret for not having enough strength to overcome those things, never letting them dictate his mindset, his attitude, a future he could never truly achieve.

And just as his chest tightened over these bleak thoughts, he heard someone sing.

"…when sun goes down.

Open your wings and sing.

Sing, sweet nightingale

Sing sweet… nightingale…"

His heart lurched. This voice, could it be? Although he could not distinguish the words clearly enough, he knew this voice too well. His heart knew it, it yearned for it.

He rushed to stop at the very edge of the sloping hill and under the white crown of the tree within the sea of lilac, he saw a female figure, of long dark hair, dressed in white and green. His feet never felt so light as he hurried down the slope, almost as though he gained wings.

Reaching near enough the tree, he realized it was in fact adorned in multitude of small, white flowers and their velvety, sweet fragrance was even stronger and frighteningly mesmeric as he approached. These were jasmine flowers. However, he found himself not caring one bit what they were nor for the fact that the mixture of scents filling the fresh air was comforting. No, why would he care for such trivial things when the sun of his life was smiling to him.

"Christine…"He murmured her name, unable yet to believe his eyes.

There was no repulsiveness or resentment in her dark-brown, doe-like eyes. Only joy, only fondness.

"I have been waiting for you."The girl with chocolate curls told him, reaching out to take his big hand in hers."Come. Come over here, Erik."

He could only stare at her, stunned and speechless as he was and let her pull him closer. She led him to the tree, where she let her green cloak fall down her shoulders and she carefully laid it on the ground. She went to sit down and motioned him to do the same. Her eyes captivated him, her sweet smile made him want to surrender completely to her every will.

Only when her hand was close to the hated left side of his face, did he cringe, freed from the entrancement she placed him under.

"No!"He turned his head away, hiding the disfigurement. He absolutely did not want her graceful hands, her precious fingers, to be soiled by the gruesomeness deforming his features."No…"He said in a quiet tone of voice, pleading.

When he gathered enough courage to look at her again, some moments later, her dark eyes were filled with sympathy, as though she gazed upon some wounded animal. Christine took his hand and raised it in the level of his face.

"But it's alright."She told him. Smiled."Feel."

He let her draw his hand closer, his fingertips to touch his cheek. And upon the new realization, his bright, green eyes widened in astonishment. He touched his face over and over, first the left side and then the right one as well. And both felt equally smooth beneath his fingertips. His fingers then ran through the thick strands of his dark hair, where the balding, rough spot used to be. He felt nothing there but even skin and soft locks he knew were never able to grow.

Christine was holding a round mirror in her hands, of ornate silver frame.

"Look."She urged him.

When he drew himself near, diffidently, what first came into view in the mirror was a face of a little boy, of tussled dark hair, chubby cheeks and eyes as clear and blue as the sky in springtime. He flinched in surprise, but a moment later, the face of the boy was gone, being replaced by his own amazed reflection staring at him. He touched the cold surface of the mirror glass, grazed his fingertips against his own face in it.

It was gone! The deformity of his face was gone, disappeared! Like it never existed in the first place. He looked like he always dreamed of – normal. Simply… normal. His eyes blurred with tears, the transparent droplets dripping against the surface of the mirror. He could not control his sobs nor stop the tears from flowing. He felt as though he was breaking from the inside. A heavy sensation of sorrow and grief was overwhelming him, exceeded only by such incredible and utter loneliness.

"Poor Erik."Christine whispered."Poor, poor Erik."

He sank, deeper and deeper, into the infinite black void of his despair.

His knees were as if welded onto the cold floor as he knelt, bent over. Sporadic sobs still shook his body. He wished he could cut it out of him, his guilt and his sins. They smothered him, suffocated him. But the fact he was so utterly alone was immeasurably a lot worse.

The utter blackness surrounded him, closing in. The silence reigned. His music was gone after all, his heart could sing no more. It could only bleed.

Then, a sharp sound resonated loudly. A hard object bashing against metal. It startled him, he never expected to hear anything in this deep silence. But an ugly, swarthy face, twisted in wicked grin, mouth filled with several golden teeth, startled him even more. The man, the Gipsy that held him captive when he was a boy, cackled and struck against the bars of the cage with a hard handle of the whip. He knew it well, his body remembered it well, after being beaten with it almost every day.

Instinctively, he retreated back, a shudder of mixed alarm and agitation passing through him.

"Where d' yah think yer goin' boy? Eh?"The gipsy asked in a gruff voice."Don't think you can escape yer sins, devil's child. Hehhe heh…"

"No! No, stay away from me!"He shouted, feeling a wave of terror taking over him, and suddenly he felt as though he was a little boy again."Leave me alone!"He held his arms protectively over his head, expecting to be hit every moment now. He was crouching, his knees tightly pulled back against his stomach. Such a big, strong man was a sight of complete misery now.

But, instead of proceeding to punish him like always out of simple boredom or for displeasing him in some trivial matters, the Gipsy laughed loudly, a thundering awful noise it was. He wondered how his former captor could even produce any voice at all while a deep, long slit ran across his thick throat, dark blood gurgling and gushing out like a little brook, drenching the Gipsy's clothes. But the Gipsy wasn't alone. Through the dim shadows, others emerged, more creatures than people. Ghouls. The ghosts whose ghastly faces hounded him for years. The bellows of laughter broke all around him.

He saw… he recognized people he had met before, people whose life he ended with his own two hands. There were those that died because they mocked him, because they thought him pitiful and ugly and laughed at his suffering. There were those that truly wished him harm, mostly because he simply knew too much, because they considered him dangerous. Then he had no choice but to kill in order to stay alive.

To survive he had killed, but also… out of spite. Out of mere spite, because they dared think of him anything less than what he was, a genius. They dared hurt his pride, ridicule his authority, belittle his intellect. Their deaths might not have been entirely deserved, but they served as an example for others. Now no one would try and risk angering him, lest they wanted to share the same grisly fate as the fools before them. Those pathetic commoners that were but gnats compared to his mind prowess and abilities.

Then why was he in this cage? Why was he captured and imprisoned so, like a helpless animal? Why did something that felt justified before, felt so very wrong now? And why did it hurt so much? He wanted out, he wanted to run away. Arms stretched out through the bars, hands tried to capture him. He darted from one end of the cage to the other, trying to keep himself out of reach but they would always pull at his clothes, tug at his hair.

Their laughter was deafening, made his skull hurt to the point he had an uncomfortable feeling it was splitting in half. He held his head firmly pressed between his hands, trying in vain not to hear their accusing words that stabbed through him like spears and swords.

You killed us! Killed us!

Murderer!

Monster! Monster!

Freak.

Demon!

Murderer!

"No!"He screamed."No… please…"He begged in a crying voice."Please, stop. No more!"

"Stop? And when will you stop?" A voice made him lift up his head. Other figures around the cage he was in were obscured, all but one. A woman, dressed in plain grey dress, her face concealed behind a black veil. Though her face was hidden, that voice, that cold, merciless voice deprived of any and all emotion of kindness and gentleness, sent a wave of nausea through him.

"When will you STOP, you creature, you… you monstrous thing?!"The woman with the veil shrieked." You evil, evil fiend! You wicked child! You shouldn't have been born! You should have never been born!"

Her final shout shattered like glass through his ears, made everything else vanish together with her, leaving him curled up on the floor, his body shivering. Tears streamed down his perfect cheeks, his sobs resounding in the emptiness.

"…Christine… Save me… Christine."Her name was like a prayer on his lips. A prayer for salvation of this agony, this desolation.

He felt that he was losing the sight of himself. That he was becoming empty, nothing. Like he was fading away.

Not even the growling that came deep from within the darkness made him stir. A pair of green-grey eyes gleamed against the black gloom. A creature was circling him, black paws patting softly against the ground. It sniffed the air, deep rumble coming from its throat. He felt chill crawling against his skin, like tiny insects. From the corner of his eye, he spotted something odd about this mysterious creature. Something out of place, something he did not wish to see.

Something he was afraid to look at.

A moment later, the creature turned about and retreated back into the shadows, while something else entirely appeared. A pair of female arms stretched out to him, but these meant him no harm.

"Christine…"He whispered.

"Shh. It's fine. Everything's fine. You'll get better soon."A voice told him. Low, caring. It carried the scent of fresh lavender and enthralling sweetness of jasmine flowers.

He felt weightless and comfortable, as he rested inside an embrace that filled him with warmth. The shade lifted from his eyes, but he could not see clearly. It was as if he was inside a half dream, neither fully awake nor fully asleep.

There was a soft, crackling sound coming from his left, accompanied by an orange glow. But, he did not want to turn his head to see what it was, he did not want to move. He wanted to keep this snug feeling forever or at least just for a while longer.

Just then, the voice whispered something to him and it was so close he could feel a warm breath caressing his skin. He understood only one word: water. The cool liquid was already inside his mouth and he found himself unable to contain his thirst. He swallowed the water as if it was his last, as if he had never drank anything tastier.

"Please, can I have some more?"He asked… or thought he did. He wasn't sure, still he was given more water to drink nevertheless. He was too fast to drink this time and he coughed on a reflex. This action, though simple as it was, tired him

There was a cozy feeling of softness underneath him, as though he was lying on a cloud filled with velvety down. His body felt so light, it seemed to him he was floating.

There was a caress on his face, shy, tender.

He remembered seeing a strange kind of sun. In fact, there were two of them, an identical pair. They were small and black like dots, their golden rays, delicate as threads, reaching out to submerge themselves into luminous, deep brown. He gazed into them, feeling sleep taking over again.

"It's alright. Sleep now."

There he was again, in an infinite sea of lavender flowers. Fingers stroke through his thick hair and he knew these delicate hands could only belong to her. She was looking at him from above, as he was lying with his head on her lap. An affectionate smile adorned her young features, divinely beautiful that every angel would envy. She was humming, a melodious flow of sounds stemming from her graceful throat.

Although he could not help but notice that her voice sounded a tad differently. Nevertheless, her song brought him an indescribable sense of peace and security so he decided this detail was of no importance. He felt safe, protected. He felt finally relieved from that gloom and fear.

Christine let her silken voice ascend, like a bird flying high towards the sky, to meet with its mate before they both plummeted down, in a playful spiral of their courting dance and then, rising upwards again before reaching the lowest tree branches.

"…Fly, sweet Nightingale

Over groves, over dales

Carry your sweet song

And my heart's wish along…

Sing sweet Nightingale.

Sing sweet Nightingale.

Sing, sweet Nightingale, sing…

On gentle winds, may you soar

Over rooftops, and off the shore

Find a lonely bark at the sea

And bring my sweetheart a single wish from me…"

Christine sung about a fate of star-crossed lovers, about how they had to be separated. There were hints in the song that perhaps the man held a high rank and had to be on board the ship, while he left behind his beloved, who had sworn to wait for him forever, her only wish was his safe return home. Whether they were reunited or not, he could not know as Christine's words grew quieter as time went by. Her song was lost in the distance, only an echo of her voice reverberated, as she let it flow in a single, melodious note.

Something felt wrong.

"We must not go into the forest."He heard her whispering, as though she was still near him.

He began to sit up."Why? What's in the… forest?"

Looking around, he realized he was alone. It was dark now and cold wind was blowing, unlike the soothing breeze from before, causing dread to snake into his very bones, bringing uncomfortable shivers run down his spine. All was still and completely quiet now, as heavy, white fog settled, coiling round the trees and like walls, enclosing from all sides. He was deep inside the forest, the same one he was warned not to approach.

He looked up to see dark clouds floating across the indigo night sky. From time to time, they would obscure the only source of illumination in this dark – a gleaming, silver crescent of the moon. But, he had the strangest of feelings that the moon did not look quite right. Just like the lacking stars, it might have been eaten by the shadows, as well.

"Christine?"He called for her, but dared not to raise his voice.

His throat constricted in a dry gulp. He made a single step backwards, realizing that his knees were shaking. He could not find a solid reason for this inexplicable anxiety. His entire body seemed tense, as if he was subconsciously expecting something to jump at him at any moment from this thick mist. His heartbeats thumped loudly in his ears, while he tried to steady his breathing in vain. He exhaled in quivering breaths, which seemed to him louder against this utter silence than they actually were.

Something was near him, behind him. These panicky thoughts ran through his head, as he felt goosebumps rippling against his back. Even the droplets of cold sweat that slid down his neck felt like tiny, slithering bugs. His hands balled into very tight fists, the knuckles at the back of his hands turning white. He wanted to move, he had to move, but couldn't. His legs felt like stones, unable to budge an inch, as if the earth itself held his feet in a firm grasp.

If he were to look a bit further… just out of the corner of his eye, what would he see?

"Erik!"Her scream broke through the silence."Erik, save me!"

"Christine!"Dropping all notion of that paralyzing fright from just moments ago, his legs immediately gained flight. He rushed as fast as he could, even though the air was heavy and his lungs hurt each time he tried to breathe in.

He never saw another form following him closely, hidden in the fog, as black as the shadows lurking in his very heart.

"Erik! Erik, help me!"Her cries for help led him past and in between the ancient giants of the trees and through the mist, as it swirled around him in silvery-blue tinted waves.

"Christine! Christine, answer me!"He called out to her, but only his own voice echoed through the emptiness of the woods."Where are you?"

"Christine!"He pleaded, but there was no answer.

All he could think about was to get to her, to take her in his arms and protect her from any harm. He could think of nothing else, notice anything else, until it was too late.

How it all turned out to be like this, he did not know. When did everything go so wrong? When did he become so wrong?

All he ever truly wanted was to live like everybody else, in peace and for music. While gifted in many things, music was his first love, his passion, his haven. When he was younger, he hoped that through his music people would be able to see past the horridness of his face. Only one did, only her. She was his Angel of Music.

From the moment she first heard her sing, even though it was yet far from perfect, she had captivated his soul. From that moment on, he could think of nothing but her and she was his muse, she was his most beautiful song, she was… another's. She belonged to someone else.

He laughed. He laughed at his own misery, at his own foolishness. Only pity, he remembered only pity in her dark eyes when they said goodbye. Their first and their last kiss was not filled with passion nor love. Only with pity. At first, she was only enchanted by his voice, he knew full well the sometimes hypnotizing effect it had on people. Then it was curiosity, then blind terror, and in the end… pity.

And she never even knew his name.

He could never make her fall in love with him as he loved her fully. He only made her frightened and even this fear eventually turned to resentment, to sympathy. He could never make her see beyond this face. But what was it there to see? What was really hidden behind the countless masks he had worn? What were those disappointed words she had said, again...?

"…It's in your soul that the true distortion lies."

Was his soul ever so black? So utterly, pitch black it seemed it absorbed all light that fell upon it. This beast that pinned him to the ground now glowered at him with such hateful eyes. He wanted to turn his head away from the sight of it, but the sable-furred creature did not let him as it held his face in its sharp claws, in a fast grasp.

The beast was horrendous. Its grayish-green eyes blazed with sheer, mad rage, only adding to an overall atrociousness of its distortion. The entire left side of its face, its muzzle, head and ear was disfigured — a mass of naked flesh exposed, warped and bulging and ghastly pale, riddled with tiny, pulsating veins underneath. The beast growled, snapping its sharp teeth at him, droll dripping on his cheek.

He felt an aching strain his eyes gave, as they widened in terror and revelation. It was the monster in the mirror. The monster that lurked at every corner, hid in each shadow, slept under his bed during the day and hounded his dreams at night. It was the reason he was afraid to sleep as a child and it brought the first awareness of being alone. Whenever he tried to reach in the darkness, there was no one to accept his hand. There was no one to hold him, there was no one to chase his fears and give him just a bit of warmth and comfort he craved for since birth, it seemed to him.

"No… No, no, no! Go away!"He managed to raise his hands, cover his eyes so he would not see."Go away!"He whimpered, frightened as he was when he first saw the mirror monster.

"Poor, Erik. Poor, poor Erik."Her voice startled him and he turned his head aside, only to see her wearing the same face of pitifulness as she did the last he saw of her, as though she was regarding a starving and abandoned puppy on a street. But a dull pang in his heart came from the fact she was now in protective arms of the man she was willing to sacrifice her own life and happiness for, only so he could be safe from harm.

"Christine…"He whispered and reached out, his hand trembling, but when she averted her eyes in distaste, hiding her angelic face away inside the embrace of the blond Viscount, his heart sunk.

They turned away to leave and vanished inside the thick fog together. He could only stare after them, as he once did, unable to stop them, unable to catch up to them, unable to reach the height of their happiness. The undeserving wretch that he was, he was never allowed to feel anything but pure despair.

He was left with nothing else in this world, nothing but the beast that now loomed over him. This was his reality, his past and his present, the future he would never live to see. This was his punishment and his crime, his life and ultimately, his death. This was his end.

He closed his eyes as the beast struck. Talons as sharp as knives carved their way deep into his skin, sliced at his ear. The black creature mutilated only the left side of his face, making long, yawning gushes. Each of its assaults dripped with sheer loathing and unyielding wrath but also, with an outraged misery just as well.

Curiously enough, there was no pain. Even as he pressed his hand against the ruined side of his face and blood trickled down his fingers, he felt not even a sting. When he let himself be at complete mercy of the deformed beast, he was washed away with numbness he had never felt before. Helpless, abandoned and broken, he gave himself in to death, willingly and unconditionally.

But something pulled him back again.

The beast still glared at him as it gradually disappeared, fading away into the mist. His stare was empty as he gazed into space, where the monster from the mirror used to be moments before. Now, in its place, was someone else. A female figure approached slowly, her cloak dragging heavily against the ground. A hood cast a shadow that obscured her face, or perhaps it was the mist that covered her features like a fine veil. Even so, she appeared almost ethereal, like a fairy.

She carried the scent of lavender and jasmine with her. He became a bit annoyed by the fragrance that always seemed to calm the storm in him and had the power to entrance him to the state of drowsiness, similar to the effect Christine's voice had over him.

Wind carried the long tresses of her hair that fondled his face in a silky, gentle caress. She reached out to him with small hands and he squeezed them in his own, big ones. These hands were warm and seemed familiar. Could it be that she came back? His heart fluttered with the hopeful thought.

"Christine… I only wished to hear you sing forever. Why did you have to leave? Why couldn't I be the one to make you happy? Christine…"

The small, delicate hands enfolded his in a careful way as though they were holding something very precious and fragile.

"I'm here."That voice whispered.

That voice? Was it Christine's? It was so very gentle and calming it had to be hers. No one else in the world would be this kind towards him.

"I'm here."The voice reassured him.

So, it is her, he thought with relief and slowly, everything faded away.

When Erik, the former Phantom of the Opera, opened his eyes, it was already a new day.

Just so you guys know, the next update won't be earlier than in two-three weeks or so. I'll have to be a bit careful about that chapter, too. It's the first time Claire and Erik actually talk and get to know each other a bit. :) I'll appreciate the reviews. Read ya next time!