A/N: I am sorry this is something of a slow building story, but I promise it will start to pick up presently. This particular tale does not afford a lot of the 'getting to know you' for both character as I would like. It thrusts them together rather suddenly and just sort of expects them to learn to deal with it. Have patience, and I promise you will be rewarded. Also, bonus points to anyone who can recognise the music played in this chapter. It has ties to a favourite Norse God of Mischief.

Thank you emmaaaaaaw and Fifteensweets for following this story!

Erik came into the room, looking quite the gentleman, and waved her forward wordlessly. He helped her into the boat, revelling in the soft pressure of her hand in his and clandestinely admiring her silvery form as he steered them across the lake. He was surprised when they alighted upon the dock that she showed no wariness of the dark. He had forgotten to bring a lantern, but she did not seem to need one. He had often been told by Nadir that he had the eyes of a cat and could see in the dark eerily well, but Christine seemed to exude her own light, allowing her to see and follow him effortlessly.

'I suppose,' he said suddenly. 'You know these tunnels as well as I do.' He noted, looking back to faintly see a smile play upon her lovely lips.

'Yes, I should think so. I was here when you built them, after all.' She returned with a bit of mischief hiding just on the surface of her voice.

'Ah,' he nodded grimly. 'Then I apologise for that.'

'Why?'

'I was not always in the best of moods back then.' He remembered how badly his temper was strained on those more difficult days of construction.

'"Back then"? You make it sound as if you do not have them now.' She laughed, letting her elegant tones echo cheerily through the stone walls.

Erik let out a dark chuckle at this. 'Yes, well, I suppose we are all guilty of losing our patience.' He conceded. He turned to glance back at her over his shoulder, but found himself stopping. She was standing still, seemingly looking through the ground in front of her and frowning.

'What is the matter?' He asked, cocking his head at her odd behaviour.

She snapped her wide blue eyes up to him. 'Oh, nothing. I simply had a strange feeling is all.' She smiled before fluttering up to his side and taking his arm to urge them to continue the journey.

Erik tried to pass off her show of formality as just that, but his eyes could not help straying to her hands as they encircled his pristinely jacketed arm. She kept pace with him gracefully, even though his legs were considerably longer. She looked to him like a star standing beside a shadow.

When they at last made it to Box 5, Erik felt an odd sort of pride wash over him to be escorting her in and sitting beside her. It was the closest he had ever come to seeming like any other man there. He had a lovely partner to enjoy music with and if anyone could see them through the shadow of the box, they would most assuredly be jealous of the masked man for his astonishingly lovely companion. This sparked a bit of curiosity in him, as he realised he had yet to ask a very important question. Just when he was about to ask it, however, the orchestra began their first piece and all were silent to allow the music to envelope them completely.

Looking across the sea of seats, Erik noted that there were several empties. Not that this was any great surprise. The off-season was always slower and with fewer ticket sales as when they had a new opera to host. Overall, the numbers were better than usual, and he had to admit that the music was superb.

Sitting back, he let the orchestra's ministrations wash over him, sweeping him away to the promised world their music enticed him to imagine. He found himself gazing over at Christine, her back straight, but eyes closed to the pleasures of the notes the musicians so skilfully played. He felt a small smile form on his own mouth after seeing her contentment. And yet, he wondered to himself how he had come to be so calm in the face of this admittedly bizarre situation. Here he was with a girl who had appeared out of nowhere, claiming to be his guardian angel. Certainly she had cared for him, enduring great pain so that he would not have to, but this did not excuse the fact that she had apparently been following him about for the past twenty years and influencing his life without his notice. He was unsure as to how he should feel, but a part of him was confusedly betrayed to know she had so casually walked in on his private life and not cared to ask permission to do so. Still, he found her simply too fascinating to fully begrudge her company.

Besides, he thought, at least I am not alone anymore. Perhaps this girl can offer some entertainment for a time and get me out of the dismal moods I seem to find myself in as of late.

Turning his full attentions back to the music, he found the piece was finished and the strings were taking over, claiming the room in their soft and lilting cries of Schubert's String Quartet No. 13. If Erik was not mistaken, which he almost never was when it came to music, this was the first movement. He watched Christine closely as the music drew her further in with its depth of powerful yet drifting tones. He observed slight shifts in her diaphragm as she mentally went through balletic movements to match the at once soothing and commanding music while also perhaps inwardly singing it. He found himself wishing to see her dance for him again. To match her graceful actions to the music he was hearing reign through his Opera. He also felt a twinge of envy over the artist below for capturing so much of her attentions. He could not fully explain it, but he alone longed to be the one to hold her eyes. He wished to draw her smile forth, to have her look only to him, and to simply make her happy. He knew she could not truly choose to be in his company, but perhaps over time it would feel more voluntary. She was still too much of a mystery to let her slip from his grasp so soon.

When the concert concluded, he joined her in applause, but swayed her away from their normal escape route. He had something he wished to show her.

Leading her out into the hallway, he ducked them into a secret passageway known only to the Phantom which so skilfully haunted the Opera Populaire. She followed him in complete silence as he fervently hurried off to a particular part of his beloved building.

Christine had a vague guess as where he was taking her, but she had never been there before. It was only when he thrust open the secret trap door that her suspicions were eagerly confirmed.

Erik watched with something resembling gleeful pride as he helped her over the slight lip of the door and onto the roof. The midnight velvet of the sky was carefully littered with stars and majestically adorned with a nearly full moon, casting ample light which Christine so effortlessly resembled onto the greened copper roof. The warm glow from the glass dome that rose smoothly behind them contrasted the coolness of the sleeping night. Distant sounds of theatre-goers leaving could be heard filtering up through the gently swaying night air as Christine walked as if in a trance to one of the great golden statues of the Opera's two cherished attributes, Harmony and Poetry with their accompanying Pegasus of stone.

Erik shuffled awkwardly to stand beside her, worried in her dazed state that she might fall. She brushed the statue gently as she leaned over slightly to see down into the street below. She felt something rest delicately, but securely over her hand. Turning, she saw Erik looking at her rather intently.

'Please do not fall.' He urged, his heartrate already quickening.

'I shall try not to.' She smiled at him playfully, but her eyes held too much wonder for him to take it in complete jest.

'Do you like it up here?' He asked, watching how alight her expression seemed.

'I do; very much. I love all of your Opera.' She told him.

Somehow the compliment took him off guard. 'I am glad you see it that way.' He said softly as she took a step away from the edge to turn back to the luminous dome behind them.

'Of course I do. The building demands it. Everywhere I look it requires my admiration and respect, much like you do sometimes.' She smirked at his surprised look.

He hummed thoughtfully at her humour. 'Yes, I suppose the building has only served to magnify my selfish and arrogant tendencies.' He shot her a glance only to see her cringe at the words she had so brashly shouted at him the night before.

'Erik, I am sorry for those things I said to you.' She quickly came towards him, hands held out in supplication. 'I did not mean them.'

'Yes you did, and you should not dare deny them. Though, I fear my words were more truthful than I had intended.' He looked at her worriedly, showing at least some of his own regret. 'I am sorry I frightened you.' He turned away at this admission, not being able to meet her undoubtedly fearful expression.

'Erik,' she said. He turned round to find himself far closer to her than he had anticipated, but neither of them could find any fault with this.

'I am not frightened of you.' She continued, honesty ringing in her eyes. 'I am merely worried about you.'

He found himself holding his breath as she stood just a few easy centimetres away. Quickly, he ducked out of the close proximity, turning so as not to show how he heavily he was breathing or how confused he was for doing so. 'Why worry about something like me, hmm? What could the angels possibly want with the monster who lives under the Opera?' He asked, his voice coming out harsher than he had intended.

'They want you to live.' She told him, perplexed by his sudden change in tone. 'And you are not a monster.' She insisted sternly.

'Oh no?' He dared, looking at her incredulously. 'Tell me, for you have clearly known me long enough, how could a man with this face not be considered a monster?' He challenged.

'Because it is not the face that matters, Erik, it is the heart; the soul. I know deep down you are a good man.' She pressed, coming back to stand before him.

'Yes, deep down indeed. But how far are you willing to travel to find this promised man, my dear? Are you willing to plunge into Hell itself to retrieve this long lost soul and drag it to redemption? For that is what it shall take.' He spat back at her, somehow growing taller and darker within his perpetual shadow.

'Stop it Erik! You are not as terrible as you claim!' she persisted. 'You are a man and you are good.' She yelled at his chest as if trying to speak directly to his heart, to remind it to remain warm and beating.

'Then why must the world shun me? If I am as wonderful as you seem to believe, then why must I hide? Why do I have scars to remind me how cruel mankind can be? Why do I have this face and how can you possibly defend it, knowing what it looks like?' He nearly begged the last, searching her eyes, her soul, for any kind of answer.

'Perhaps because I do not know what you look like!' She shouted without thinking. She stopped to look up into two wide orbs of amber.

'Y-you have never seen…?' He gestured vaguely towards his mask.

'No, I have not.' She answered almost apologetically. 'I felt it was something that you should decide whether or not I see.' She explained, casting her eyes downward.

Erik felt the colour drain from his already pale face as he turned away again, feeling the weight of her words crash down on him.

How had I assumed that she had seen? He mentally berated himself. I am hideous, of course she would not have remained by me if she saw. She would not be able to look me in the eye if she knew what lay beneath the mask. She would not wish to stand near me, let alone touch me if she knew what I hid. How could I have been so foolish? How could I have let my own idiotic wishes and longings get in the way of seeing sense and reason?

'I see.' He acknowledged after a pause, still cursing his own name.

Christine hung her head a bit. She had been doing so well, and yet he let his own insecurity get in the way.

'Why is it that every time we try to talk, we end up arguing and one of us gets hurt?' She asked, looking accusingly at the rooftop, and then the rich grey clouds that were swooping in overhead.

Erik watched her with an emotion he did not have the effort or patience to invest in naming. He felt old and tired as she gazed indifferently up at the clouds.

'Do you have wings?'

Christine looked at him confusedly.

'You are an angel, right? Do angels not have wings?' He asked with weary curiosity. It had been the question he had intended for earlier, but found it far more fitting now. She looked very much like a bird about to take flight.

'Oh, yes, I suppose they do.' She noted, putting forth that odd calm in the face of complete strangeness which stoked his ire so easily. 'I have never really thought to look.' She craned her neck to check her shoulder blades as Erik sighed.

'I do not see any, so perhaps you simply do not have them.' He rubbed the back of his head, trying to come up with something better to say to her. He had dragged her all the way up here to do God knows what, and now that he was here with her…nothing. He was stuck making awkward small talk with someone who did not show any sort of partiality to the only subject he wished to discuss: her. He wondered, not for the first time, what he was supposed to see in her when it started to rain.

When the first drop hit her head, she stopped acting like a dog trying to catch its own tail, and by the second she was staring up into the clouds again. As the downpour continued, she held open her arms and let her head fall back, smiling dreamily skywards. Something in this caught Erik's attentions and held him rapt.

'Thank you,' he heard faintly. He cocked his head as he took a few cautious steps closer.

'For what?' He asked, noting the uncomfortable tickle of water droplets catching and sliding down between his face and the mask. If he were alone, he would simply rip the disguise away to join her calm bliss, but he was not about to subject her to such unparalleled horror.

'For letting me feel the rain.' She told him, keeping her eyes shut contentedly.

'Then you are welcome.' He bowed slightly and actually smiled, knowing she would see neither. He stood there for a moment, enjoying how free she looked. Perhaps her beauty was what he was meant to see in her.

'Come,' she said after a little while. 'Let us get you inside. It will not do either of us any good to have you catching cold.' She said, nearly pushing him determinedly towards his secret door.

'Me? Can you not grow ill?' He mock-argued. She smirked at him in response, enjoying his reflective reaction.

He was mildly surprised when she led him back down the passageways successfully. She clearly did have a good hold on how to navigate the place. They made it out into the backstage area, though it was mostly empty by this time. All of the ballet rats were up in their loft asleep or in their own homes were they fortunate enough to have them. Christine and Erik made their way through the many twists and turns to get to the dressing room which held the mirror exit.

They were just about to reach the door, Erik's long, skeletal fingers enclosing round the golden handle, when he heard something behind them. He turned just in time to see the familiarly grungy face of Joseph Buquet.

'You!' The man shouted with a slight stagger and slur to his word.

Erik nearly rolled his eyes at the ridiculously inebriated stage hand, but the shine of a blade rushing towards him halted his arrogant gesture. In fact, he was so surprised by the man's unusual boldness that he found himself furiously stilled in any attempt to avoid injury. It was not until he felt the slight pressure spreading against his torso that he realised Christine had stepped in front of him.

He looked down in amazement, only now hearing her cry of protest before she had rushed to protect him with herself. She stood, knife securely driven into her stomach and up to slip into the lungs, as Joseph looked confusedly between his weapon and the shadowy being he had intended to kill.

In the next split second, Erik saw two flares of silvery grey, answering his earlier question, and the body of Buquet flying several feet backwards before crashing with a solid thump into the wall. Then the angel who had stood so boldly before him slumped forward, yanking the knife from her stomach and falling to her hands and knees almost instantly afterward.

'Christine!' Erik lunged forward, taking her now quivering form into his arms without hesitation. She was coughing slightly, and her eyes were drooping closed as he carried her into the dressing room and, with mild difficulty, into the tunnel beyond the mirror. 'Just stay with me.' He urged as he practically flew through the long since familiar stone walls to the dock. He set her down gently before hurrying the boat across the lake. He nearly kicked down the front door in his haste, not hearing anything but his own urging to move faster, and his rapid heartbeat.

Setting her down on the sofa, he instantly stripped off his jacket, pulling back her hands from their folded position on her stomach. He froze as he examined the split in the bodice of her dress. There was nothing. No cut, no blood, nothing. He looked at her in puzzlement as slowly the sound of her voice cut through the din of his own thoughts.

'Erik! I told you, I am fine. I heal quickly, remember?' She insisted for not the first time.

'B-but you were stabbed.' He looked at the hole in her dress again, trying vainly to make sense of it.

'I prefer the term impaled, as it sounds more dramatic.' She said playfully.

His eyes shot up to hers like fire. 'You think this is a joke?!' He roared. 'You could have died! What the Hell were you thinking?!'

'No I could not! And I was thinking I would save you, but if you would rather have been left bleeding and dead in the hall for anyone to find, then be my guest.' She glared at him just as fiercely.

He looked about to argue further, but the tiring rush of adrenalin finally caught up and he instead slumped his head down on the sofa, breathing heavily. He felt a new sensation creep over his head as he realised Christine was running her fingers over his hair. He froze, not knowing what else to do.

'Oh Erik,' she said sadly, leaning her head down closer to his. 'I am sorry for worrying you so.' She continued to seek out his eyes like a child, sliding onto the floor beside him and leaning on the sofa, miming his posture. She gave him a gentle smile when he finally turned to look at her. 'Are you hurt at all?'

He shook his head. 'Just tired. Are you sure you are all right?' He asked, not completely willing to believe she was fully healed.

'I am fine. Thank you for carrying me. I am not sure I could have made it so efficiently here without your assistance.' She could not help the laugh that escaped.

She watched him sigh heavily before sitting up. He looked about for a moment as if trying to find some purpose.

'Come on, Erik, let us get you to bed.' She urged, snagging his arm as she stood up with him.

He looked at her amusedly, wondering if this was what it was like to have a mother. 'Will you still be here when I wake up?' He asked, growing concerned.

'That depends upon you. Do you want me to be here when you wake up?' She asked, humouring his childlike question.

'Yes.' He answered in a small voice.

'Then I shall see you in the morning.' She smiled softly at him.

'What will you do all night?' He asked before going into his room.

'Oh, I read and watch the fire or the lake. I like to sit and contemplate the universe.' She grinned at him, barely holding in another laugh. Erik nodded with a similar smile before finally bidding her good night and trudging off to sleep.

Christine sat on the edge of the lake, watching the rippling waters come to lap ever so gently upon the shore. The water seemed so still apart from the edges. The boat sat almost motionless on the glassy lake. The cool air from the underground tried vainly to be felt by the figure on the stone bank. She toyed with her hair and her skirt, having managed to find a needle and some thread to mend her dress from the previous night's infraction. She could not help smiling to herself at how Erik had worked so hard to get her back here only to find she had already healed. She felt badly, though, remembering how distressed he was over her injury. She did not know he could be that way around someone. She had always supposed, despite how he may sneer, that he would come to Nadir's aid were something to happen to the Persian. Erik did not have many friends, so it served to look after the ones he had, though this also meant he was a bit sharper than he should have been around them. She felt a blush rise to her cheeks as she realised that perhaps she was now among that small circle.

'How is the universe?'

Christine jumped slightly when she heard Erik's voice appear suddenly at her side.

'Sorry, I did not intend to startle you.' He apologised, smiling slightly while also looking worried over her reaction.

'It is all right. I simply was not expecting you.' She admitted, returning the smile and adding a bit of a breathy laugh. 'The universe is well, so far as I can determine. How did you sleep?' She asked as he came to sit beside her.

'Oh, well enough.' He brushed the question off. 'What do you find so fascinating about the water?'

'Nothing, really. I just do not have anything better to do.' She told him, shrugging.

'Would you like me to get you something to occupy your time with?' He offered, feeling a bit uncomfortable yet excited at the prospect of doing something for her.

'You really do not have to do anything. If I do my job correctly, then you will not need to see me at all.' She remarked passively.

'Do you not like being seen?'

'Of course I do, but you only see me because you need me. And you only need me because you are lonely and depressed.' She explained bluntly.

'So, what? Do you want me to get a dog?' He looked at her dryly, having cringed slightly from the bluntness of her diagnosis of his mental stability.

'I was thinking you to be more of a cat person, actually, but the choice is yours.' She continued with interest.

'You are not serious. Why would I get a cat? Why not have you just stay with me?' He said it before he could fully think it through. Thankfully, if her confused frown was any implication, she did not think about it too hard either.

'You want me to stay with you? You really want me?' She asked, completely shocked and baffled.

'Well,' he looked away, trying to regain something of his harder shell. 'I do not mind your company, if that is what you mean. I assume that someday you will be released from your burden of babysitting me and go off to do more Heavenly things.' He looked at her, hoping this would dig him out of any pit he may have created for them.

She seemed to think about this. 'I do not know. I suppose eventually I shall have to leave you, but I had rather hoped by that point you would be…'

'Dead?' He finished for her, fighting a grin as she looked to him with guilty embarrassment over her brash thoughts. 'Hmm, I guess that is one way to get rid of me.' He nodded, enjoying her choking sounds of surprise.

'I would never "get rid of you"! It is my job to protect you! I will not throw you under a train, or hang you from the stage, or drown you in the lake if that is what you mean!' She grew more and more irate as he simply burst out laughing. 'Do not laugh at me! I mean it! I would never…' She could not keep it up. She started laughing with him, enjoying his musical tenor voice as it echoed across the lake.

'Those are very specific deaths. You must have given it a lot of thought over the years.' He laughed, enjoying how she fought her mirth to glare at him before letting the giggling bubble forth again. Her voice was like a heavenly wind chime and filled every particle of the air with its sunny joy.

They calmed, smiling broadly at each other. They both just sat there in the nearly complete darkness, looking into the other's equally luminous eyes. Christine's shone like starlight while Erik's looked like two softly burning candles.

'So,' he said at length, feeling the weight of the silence stretch on. 'What would you like to do today?'

'That is a good question.' She smiled thoughtfully. 'I am open to suggestions.'

'Well, auditions for the next season are going to start tomorrow, so the Opera does not really need me at present.' He noted somewhat dispassionately. 'What are your interests?'

She hummed thoughtfully. 'I do not remember any of my old life, so I do not really know.'

Erik looked across the lake, trying to think of something that they could do together, something he knew she was at least proficient at. 'Christine,' he cocked his head with a smile, an idea coming to him. 'Would you care to sing?'

He did not think her eyes could get any bigger than they did at that moment. 'You would let me sing for you?'

'You sing wonderfully, it is not as if you need my permission.' He raised an eyebrow at her overwhelming enthusiasm. She looked so close to tears after his compliment he wondered if she would be able to survive the ordeal.

Scurrying to her feet, she very nearly dragged him into the house, bubbling over with excitement as they went over to the organ. She stood to the side, back straight, waiting dutifully to begin. Erik sighed with tired amusement as she watched his every move with barely constrained glee. He stretched his fingers, taking longer than usual just to see if she noticed. If she did, she said nothing about it.

They started off with scales, which she went through with ease, climbing ever higher with her voice. He had never heard someone sing so high and so beautifully as she did, yet when they went on to sing a full song, the charm faded. He had heard her singing a few times before, but now that she was trying, it fell flat of his expectations. He hardly made it through the song before stopping her.

'Christine,' he started in a tone he hoped displayed enough of his displeasure while not being too harsh. 'You have a magnificent voice. I have never heard anyone sing as you do, but you have no emotion to your tone. You could make the angels weep, but you do not allow the music to move you.' He explained.

Christine nodded, thinking about this.

'But I can teach you, if you wish.' Erik urged, seeing her disappointment evident in her downcast eyes. This brightened her whole form considerably.

'You would do that for me?' She asked in wonderment.

Erik breathed a laugh, marvelling at her disbelief in his favouring attitude. 'Of course. Why are you always so amazed when I offer to make you happy?'

'Because no one in my memory has ever done so.' She told him with a smile that made his heart lurch. He found a sort of kinship forming with this strange girl, and though it made him worry slightly, he could not completely begrudge it.

'Very well, let us begin,' He announced, taking on his earlier tone and pushing aside the veritable mountain of thoughts he wished to sift through over her.

He worked with her, marvelling at her tireless enthusiasm and determination. Every time she opened her mouth to start again, she would look to him for his approval. She hung on his every word and strove to be worthy of his attentions. He noticed this and wondered at it. He had never known someone who was so desperate to please him or cared so much for his opinion of them.

They went on like this for some time until his fingers protested too much for playing so long. He clenched and unclenched his fists a bit when he announced they should stop for the present.

'Oh Erik, I am sorry. I did not mean to make you go too long.' She hurriedly apologised, hovering over him and staring worriedly at his fingers.

'It is fine, Christine, really. I do no mind-' He stopped suddenly when she took his hands and cupped hers around them. He could not seem to comprehend the action as he felt her smooth, soft palms calmingly sooth his tired fingers. He continued to gaze at her in astonishment as she focused on rubbing his knuckles gently. Finally he caught his held breath and stood up abruptly, reclaiming his hands more sharply than he had initially intended.

'I need to eat.' He told her distractedly. 'Do you get hungry?'

'No, not particularly.' She answered meekly.

He nodded and went off to the kitchen, hating his mortality for requiring food.

'Erik,' he heard a small voice behind him whimper. He turned to see a very slight looking Christine leaning on the doorframe and gazing at him plaintively. 'If I do something to offend you, please let me know. I do not mean to make you uncomfortable.' She told him, her tiny smile glimmering hopefully.

He honestly did not know how to respond to that. He could not truthfully deny it, for something about this girl set him on an edge he had never felt before, but he did not wish to send her into a fit of worrying. She still held too many mysteries to fully comprehend how he felt towards her constant presence, yet this also meant he was not eager to part with her.

'It is…all right. I am simply not used to being touched.' He turned away, hoping she would not see the mortification that admission brought. He felt constantly exposed when subjected to her cobalt eyes, and he did not appreciate how loose his tongue seemed to prefer being when around her.

Still, she nodded her understanding, looking as though she was mentally storing it away for future reference.

She turned and went back into the drawing room while Erik continued to work in the kitchen. He was somewhat glad she had left him alone. He could start to think things through more fully. He had many questions still pressing on his mind, and he knew not all of them were meant for her ears nor could she answer them. A particular part of their earlier conversations kept nagging at his thoughts: her past. Who was she before she became his angel? And did she have any previous connection to him?