A/ N: I'm back !! I am so, so SO sorry for this endless delay, but I've been busy with end-of-school exams until last week and I only now found the time to get back to this story.

As always, I greatly appreciate and thank all of you who have left me reviews: michi-nin (glad you like the twist! but don't worry, this is just the beginning...;D), snapesgirl1313 (yup...I believe this situation is going to cause our beloved Phantom a looot of confusion!), dog youkai jane (i KNOW, don't you HATE it when it happens?stupid confused protagonists...LOL.), and IamthePhantomoftheOpera (I think you'll find an answer to your doubts in this chappie! and no worries, did you have fun at camp?)

A small note before we continue with the story: I've made some minor changes in the way Erik and Christine's relationship first starts out, in order to make the pieces fit together. You'll understand what I mean while you're reading. You'll start to notice some more of these changes as the story progresses, now that I have to start entwining the original plotline with my own. But no worries, I promise I'll stay true to the story's spirit!

Oh, and one last thing: I had to focus a bit more on Erik's psychology and his inner thoughts in this chapter, and he might - and I mean, MIGHT - seem eversoslightly out of character at times. Now, should that be, please keep in mind that this is how I see Erik: for me, he is neither a monster nor a mere pshycopath, and in fact I believe that his character is one of the most complex ever created, which is why he is full of contradictions both in his emotions and in his actions. Also, I give a LOT of importance to how he feels about his physical appearance - something I believe is just a part of his character.

Now, I won't bother you too much on my own personal view of Erik, however, should you feel I have gone too out of character, please let me know. Thank you.

And now, on with the story ! I promise the next one will follow very soon!

Sincerely yours,

xoxox,
-Kayla Shadow


CH.7 : LOOK AT YOUR FACE IN THE MIRROR…

Erik frowned.

There was something wrong with her voice. He couldn't quite figure out what it was, but lately he had begun to notice that something was not right. Indeed, as he had slowly become accustomed to her voice, he had also started to feel perplexed: he couldn't quite explain, but it seemed as though something was…missing, from her pitch. Although it had been quite some time since he had first heard that celestial Voice echoing along the underground walls, he could still hear it singing in his mind if he listened carefully, and whenever he compared it to her voice…it just didn't feel the same way. Of course, he had to admit that she had an incredible potential and an admirable skill, for someone as young as her…but however close and similar – even practically indistinguishable – to that Voice she sang, Erik always felt as though there was still something different about it.

He had forced himself to believe that it was all just a trick of his mind, and that it had all simply been caused by the different way in which the echos had made the Voice sound to his ears. What worried him was that his own explanation had done little to persuade him. He sigh deeply and shook his head, looking out in front of him.

On the other side of the mirror, there she stood: Christine Daée, the Opera's new primadonna, in a plain white nightshirt. Her long hair descended in curls along her back, and she was gazing intently at the mirror with her doe-like eyes, looking as if she were in a daze. It was half past eleven in the evening, and Erik knew that she would have to leave soon.

He almost grinned to himself thinking about the absurdity of the situation: there he was, hiding behind a fake mirror, all alone with a beautiful young woman whom he was giving singing lessons to… and who firmly believed that his voice belonged to the Angel of Music, who she thought was in fact her deceased father's ghost. Now, Erik was no fool, nor was he dumb. No, indeed, Erik knew, on a certain level, that his behaviour was, in a way, quite macabre, if not dowright blasphemous. He realized very well that tricking an innocent soul into believeing that he was her father's ghost, all for his own selfishness and self-pity, was wrong pretty much in every way. But ever since he had heard that Voice, and of course, ever since he had first seen her…everything had changed. He had felt as if, suddenly, his very mind had been taken over by her: her voice, her beauty, her face, everything about her. And, sure enough, his thoughts had soon turned into obsession.

It had all seemed to evolve from there: asking – no, actually, pleading – Madame Giry to tell him more about the girl. Hearing her story, how she had lost her father and how she had lived in the Opera ever since. And most of all, learing about her father's deathbed promise, which had created and nurtured her secret belief: her desperate hope that one day, her Angel of Music would come for her.

The rest had almost been too easy for Erik. All it had taken him was his cunning skills and masterfully trained voice, to draw the innocent child into his trap and take control over her mind. And now, there they were: Christine, who now believed he truly was her Angel, and himself, the trickster who now held an incredible power over her.

He wasn't quite sure how he intended this matter to end, but some sort of self- confidence and trust in their Fate, together with what had become his obsession, had brought him to disregard any thoughts of right or wrong and any self-conscience, to carry on with his plan and somehow find a way to make her become his Muse.

But, as if things weren't complicated enough, something else had somehow unexpectedly gotten in the way: for as strange and unbelievable as it seemed to him, Erik had also realized that, slowly but surely, he had also started to fall in love with this girl. He almost hadn't found the courage to admit it to himself at first, but sure enough he had found it was true. And so, what was already an absurd situation had just gone from bad to worse.

The reason why they were meeting at such an hour was that Erik had made sure, from the first time he had "revealed" himself to her – only as a voice inexplicably speaking from the walls of her dressing room, and nothing more – he had made sure to convince her that this was only way they could meet: far from curious ears, shut away from the rest of the world. Chrisine had made no objection.

She had seemed to be completely entranced and captured by him – or better, by his voice – from the very first time they had met, and she would always do as he said. He could order her to do anything, anything at all: when to meet him, what to sing, how to use her voice, how to behave on stage, the way she should prepare her performance… he could even go as far as telling her who she could see and who she couldn't, and she would obey his every word. He had made her swear never to tell of his existance, for no other besides Madame Giry was to know about him, and once again she had obeyed. If, and only if she kept her promise and obeyed him, he had vowed that she would keep hearing his voice, and that he would help her rise to stardom. And of course, she had accepted without a second thought. Her blind trust and obedience almost made Erik's heart bleed. Almost.

The proof that Erik was no true monster was that, at times, her utter dependence and childish trust in him would make him want to give it all up and show himself for who he really was, and deal with the consequences that would come. But then, the thought of how she would react would strike him like a shower of cold water, and any further similar ideas of his would be immediately blocked out of his mind.

Even so, one night as he lay in bed, another consideration came to him: if she truly had all that faith in him, how could his physical appearance do this convinction of hers any harm? Erik thought about it. After all, if she did believe he was her Angel of Music, certainly she could expect him to have an actual physical form? Well, of course his appearance didn't exactly appeal as that of an angel's… but then again, if he had tricked her into believeing he was an Angel of any sorts in the first place, would it be any harder to make her believe her Angel had now decided to show himself to her? Certainly, it couldn't be too difficult, he wondered. Not with his abilities and decieving skills.

And so, he had made up his mind at last, and resolved to get his plan into action as soon as possible. And luck seemed to turn his way, for the perfect opportunity for him was just a short time away.

That night, he decided he would tell her about his "decision" after their daily lesson. So, as she finished singing, he brought himself out of his cloud of thoughts and spoke to her.

"You are doing well, my dear child," he told her, carefully choosing his words and fixing his voice as he always did whenever he spoke to her, "I am very happy with the progress you have made."

He saw her smile from the other side of the mirror. "Thank you, Angel." She said.

His heart fluttered, but he kept his mind steady. Clearing his voice, he announced in a strong, confident tone: "That is why, I have made a very important choice. My Angel of Music, I have decided that, on the night of your opening night…."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Shadow stood in front of three full-length mirrors, lined up against one of the damp walls of the lair. Comfortably surrounded by huge, red velvety cushions, she was wearing her undergarments, and was silently examining her scarred and scratched body. Her breathing slightly irregular, she examined every wound, her eyes widened with a mix of sadness and curiosity.

She raised an arm, turning it as if to study the marred flesh from every angle, then her gaze followed that marked path down to her elbows and up again towards her shoulders. The marks ended there, but a new series of them appeared just above her chest, plunging down along her sides and across her stomach, continuing down the curve of her hips all the way across her legs.

The candlelight reflected against her skin, making the scars practically glow in a slightly surreal light. Shadow gave one long sigh.

"My scars…" she thought, "…I am not scared of them…nor do I loathe the way they have mark my body for ever. But oh, if only I could remember HOW I got them…if only I knew their story..." and she shook her head, feeling helpless.

It was in moments like these that she truly wished she could recover her memory. But all that she had were those incomprihensible and dreaded nightmares, which had done nothing but increase lately. She frowned. Since when had that begun to happen?

"Ever since Erik…"

But suddenly, she felt someone touch her shoulders, and jumped. She snapped out of her thoughts, and saw Erik crouching down besides her. His hands were on her shoulders, and he was staring at her through the mirror in front of her. She turned her face towards him.

"Erik," she breathed, surprised to see him there.

She had started to become so accustomed to his lack of attention towards her, that his arrival had startled her. She was used to seeing his gaze lost in the distance, as his mind thought of things she knew nothing about. Yet now his gaze was firmly focused on her eyes, and he no longer seemed to be distant or far away.

Shadow wondered why he seemed to have changed all of a sudden, but realized it was probably due to the situation he had found her in right then. After all, scars were something both of them carried, both inside and out. It had always been one of the things that had made their bond so strong. Maybe, seeing her scars had reminded him of that, she thought.

As if to confirm her theory, he drew himself closer to her, lieing himself down behind her.

"Shadow…" was all he whispered, and then she felt one of his hands smoothly travel down her arm. He gently took hold of her hand and raised her arm, examining it and running his fingers along the marked flesh. Shadow stood still. She held back an involuntary shiver, feeling him rest his head on her shoulder and hearing him sigh.

"I've been away for too long, eh?" he asked in a whisper to nobody in particular, his voice softly echoing in the darkness. She felt his hand move away from her arm to touch his white half-mask. He gave another deep sigh, lowering his hand back down and closing his eyes. "Shadow, I…I truly am sorry."

And this time, Shadow knew he was telling the truth. Her heart swelled, then lurched when she raised her eyes and looked back in their reflection, catching his intense gaze. She hadn't noticed that she had tears streaming down her face, but what shocked her most, looking into his eyes, was seeing that they, too, seemed to be filled with tears, along with worry and concern for her.

She turned around to face him, slightly confused. Wordlessly, he lowered his face and placed his hand on his mask, gently removing it. He set the mask down besides him, and then passed his hand on the now exposed marred side of his face. He kept his gaze lowered, looking ashamed, and Shadow saw a single tear fall from his right eye. Frowning, she reached out and gently placed her hand on his.

At her touch, he lifted his eyes again, and locked them with her kind, understanding gaze. She caressed his face, showing neither pity nor disgust, but mere kindness and empathy. Her eyes seemed to be saying clearly: don't be sorry.

He suddenly realized that she was probably the only one who could ever understand him. And, however crowded his mind had been with thoughts of Christine right up to the moment before he had seen her, as soon as he had caught sight of her standing in front of those mirrors, they had all seemed to vanish. And right in that moment, he seemed to forget all about Christine, as his mind now filled with thoughts of Shadow. His Shadow…

She who had always been there for him, never asking for anything more from him that what he was… she who knew and understood his pain… she with whom he shared his scars…. she who gave her heart to him, and asked for nothing in return…

And he had had the courage to push her out of his mind that way. Ignoring her, giving her presence for granted…lieing to her. And had she ever protested against his injust treatment? No. She had tried to ask him what was wrong once…and he had lied to her.

And yet, now there she was, ready to forgive him for all of that in the blink of an eye. He felt horrible.

What was wrong with him?

Suddenly overwhelmed with his own emotions, Erik moved forward, and in a much unlikely manner for him, he draped his strong arms around Shadow's fragile figure, pulling her gently towards him as he embraced her. She said nor did nothing for a moment, evidently taken aback by his action, but soon she felt his tears trickling down on her shoulder, and she wrapped her own arms around him, burying her face in his neck.

"Shadow…" he thought, "My Shadow...my soul…I am so, so sorry…I'm sorry, Shadow…I'm sorry…"

"Erik…" she thought on her behalf, hoping he would understand, "My Erik…my Angel…I forgive you…I forgive you."

And they stood in silence, each absorbed into his own thoughts, for there was no need for words in that moment, as both of them drowned all their emotions in that embrace.