Chapter VIII

The morning after Christine almost drowned was spent in anxiety as she rehearsed for the upcoming performance. She felt unsure of all of her steps even though she had caught on and knew them by heart.

But that's not what caused her anxiety. What caused her anxiety was the fact that Raoul de Chagny was sitting with his father in the audience seats, watching her with a frown on his face as the girls rehearsed. The entire auditorium was empty except for the performers and de Chagny's father and himself. His brother was not here today it seemed.

Erik had told her that she was not to interact with Raoul. And even now she had a strange craving to run up to the boy and apologize for not showing up, but she didn't want to disobey Erik for fear he might be angry with her. She didn't like it when he spoke to her angrily. It was worse than when he didn't speak to her at all.

"Rest now girls, you are doing magnificently," Madame Giry told them with strange praise as they all collapsed in a heap on the floor, ready to cut their legs off from exhaustion.

Christine did her best to ignore Raoul even though she could see him from the corner of her eye – staring at her. She could also see his form getting bigger as he approached her. She sighed stiffly; the other girls looked to him with admiration and to Christine with jealousy. Meg Giry was sick at her home… she would have been Christine only salvation.

"Christine," Raoul's voice was soft and almost hurt, she looked up to him and stood, she did a slight curtsy, remembering her manners and then sighing with a hint of irritation.

"Good afternoon, Raoul de Chagny."

He tilted his head at her, "you didn't come last night." Christine stared at him, expectant. "You didn't come last night." He repeated with more stress.

"Yes, I know that. I am forbidden to talk to you." She said honestly. "You are very kind and I welcome your friendship by I cannot be seen speaking to you." Her tone was quiet and she noticed other girls craning forward on the wooden floor to listen to the conversation she was having with the handsome boy before her.

"But I thought you wanted-

"I cannot. My guardian forbids it." She interrupted him quickly. Christine's irritation was starting to show itself as her jaw tensed.

He watched with slight admiration as Christine held her ground against the pest that was Raoul de Chagny. He felt a small smirk crawling to the surface as Raoul stepped forward towards Christine and she stepped back, keeping her distance from him. He could hear everything they were saying, he had better hearing than most here, which is why I know that Christine will be the best of this opera house when the time comes.

He watched as Christine repeated herself once more to the stubborn boy, "I cannot be seen with you Raoul, not now, not ever. Forgive me."

"I do not understand why it is that he will not let you have friends Christine, that is all." The boy said softly.

"You do not have to." She said carefully. "Good bye." She turned and stalked off into the folds of the curtains. Erik watched with a raised eyebrow as Raoul de Chagny went after her.

Instantly Erik took off into the hallways of the Opera House. His steps fell quietly and sure. He knew his way around this opera house better than people knew their own homes.

He found Raoul de Chagny looking for Christine, lost no doubt. The young boy didn't even see Erik as he walked past the black figure in the shadows. How Erik hated him, his face was perfect, his nose was pristine and proud, and his eyes were wide and pure.

"Christine!" His young voice echoed off into the halls of the opera halls. The boy sighed heavily, frustrated.

Where was Christine? This was taxing on his nerves and Raoul de Chagny did not enjoy chasing young girls into the darkest halls of the Opera house. How he had lost her so easily was a mystery to him but at this very moment he didn't care. He simply needed to find her. He had found himself growing strangely fond of the stoic girl named Christine.

He had found himself severely disappointed when she did not come to mass as they had agreed. And his thoughts had been of nothing but her, he liked her awkward look, her skinny frame and her pretty blue eyes.

She was different, that was most certain; he had never felt more certain of anything in his entire life.

"Christine!" he called once more. His echoed called back to him again. But something else also replied…

"Raoul de Chagny." The voice was low and everywhere. Raoul whipped around with horror and stiffened. His limbs became icicles. Painful and frozen to his torso, his arms remained still and his legs locked, "I must ask that you stop following Christine. It would be better if you never returned to this opera again."

Raoul swallowed painfully and twisted his head, trying to find who it was that was speaking. But it was so dark. "Who are you, Sir?" The voice was most certainly male, it was deep and velvety.

"I am the Opera Ghost," the person replied.

"You, sir, are no ghost!" Raoul claimed, but he wasn't very sure of this. The voice sounded otherworldly, that was true, but a ghost? No! This was ridiculous. "Come out and face me if you are a man."

"You grow tiring boy, I am no man. I am more monster than man, more ghost than human. And you - a pest in my opera house." The voice was starting to grow quieter, and strangely Raoul found this to be more disturbing.

"What do you want with Christine?" Raoul dared to ask, "Why is it a problem that I should wish to speak with her, we are friends, she and I."

"As I heard it seems you two are not friends at all. She does not want your friendship, that is why you're here and she is there. She wants nothing to do with you, boy, and I do not have to explain anything to you. Get out of my Opera House."

Raoul felt as though he had been released from a horrible spell and instantly took off darting through the darkness and to the nearest point of light.

His eyes watered as he ran through a set of thick curtains and fell haphazardly onto the stage beside a ballerina who shrieked at the suddenness of Raoul de Chagny at her side. He was gasping and stood from the floor with horror and shock. "There is a ghost in the Opera House!"

"Raoul, boy what are you doing!" His father called as he approached the stage. Raoul caught sight of Christine Daae behind Madame Giry, trying to make herself disappear from his vision. "Raoul!"

"There is a ghost here father! I heard him! He spoke to me!" The young boy exclaimed, touching his father's sleeves fervently, the girls of the opera house dared not to laugh in the presence of Raoul de Chagny's father, but they would not even if they wanted to. They knew it to be true, there was ghost here. "Father you must believe me!" Raoul stared at his father with fear.

The man stared down at his son with apprehension and then he chuckled under his breath. Raoul glared at his father as the man stroked his beard with a lazily swollen hand. "Your banters are truly amusing Raoul. It is time to go; your brother waits for us." Grabbing his son by the hand he led him out of the Opera House. Raoul protested quietly and looked back towards Christine with a look of fear. Christine was still behind Madame Giry who was speechless and staring. He found that Christine's countenance seemed to have broken and a more sensitive expression came over her face, a look of regret and perhaps sadness.

Christine realized that the look seemed to not be out of fear for his life, but for her own!

Weeks passed without word from Raoul. Christine found herself focusing more than ever on her music. Erik informed her that she was improving with every rehearsal.

When Christine and Erik practiced one evening he noticed that her voice range seemed to have strengthened and as she did her scales her focus went completely into the music. His eyes widened with appreciation when she hit a high note perfectly. The purity of her tone was refreshing. His fingers glided effortlessly over the keyboard with joy. He was eager to know how far she could go but would not push her voice.

"Erik," her voice called him to reality that evening as he continued composing the song he was writing for her, he merely nodded, "do you think that I may go upstairs for a while?" He stiffened, "I wish to see the stars. It has been very long you know."

"I do not think that that is a good idea. I fear that-

"Please Erik; I am so tired of being in the darkness."

He turned slowly, analyzing her in her pretty blue dress. She stared back at him, not defiantly but with a raised brow, "is this home not pleasing to you anymore?" His question came out like more of an accusation and try as she might she found herself shivering under his gaze.

"It is not that at all," she told him gently, her tone was soft and almost angelic. "I simply wish to go out. I need air."

He nodded softly. "Perhaps we may stop by the church, you wanted to go did you not?"

She grinned and nodded.

Christine and Erik walked through the shadows of the streets quietly. The frigid night air made her cheeks pink and her hands numb. Erik frowned at her whenever she attempted to loosen the fabric around her throat. She would immediately stop fidgeting and then her eyes would focus on the streets.

The night had never been more appealing, when she had been in the care of her father the night only came with dangers that she feared she would not be able to fight off, but with the shadow at her side she felt more safe.

And Christine couldn't help but acknowledge that the shadow beside her was just that, a shadow. He stuck to the darkness well and even his white mask would blend into the black like ink in water. She noticed that his steps were more rhythmic than her own and she had to keep a strange pace to make sure she was still at his side. His legs were much longer than her own and therefore he walked further with one step.

Eventually they reached the church, she was about to ask him how it is that they were going to get inside but instantly she realized that they wouldn't be able to get inside. "I can pray out here," she spoke to herself quietly and walked up the church steps and then bowed before the church and dropped to her knees, Christine clasped her hands and began a small prayer to her father.

Erik watched with fascination as Christine blocked out all other sound and prayed to the sky. He had always found religion to be quite intolerable and rather ridiculous, but here was Christine, doing exactly what he found so ridiculous –and suddenly it was not so absurd.

Erik turned to watch the streets for any wandering people. Minutes ticked by and then he heard a sound behind him, he knew it was not Christine; Christine's footsteps were not so loud.

"Well, well, well…" Someone chuckled maliciously. Erik saw two men grinning. They stalked forward and noticed Christine's bowed head, she seemed to feel their gaze as she looked up and turned slightly to see the men staring at her from the bottom of the stairs. "Is there a reason you are here, little darlin'?" One of the men called up to her. Instantly Erik stalked forward from the shadows.

"I'm praying," she informed them with confusion, looking to Erik.

Erik stepped forward more and glared at them sharply. "May I help you?"

The first thing they did was stare in shock at the masked man. Then, after they got over the mask on his face the one on the right spoke, "You can get out of our street, and leave the little dove." The one on the right snickered; his hair was blonde and tousled. His eyes were red and the iris' were a strange brown.

"I suggest you leave," the other one hinted to Erik.

"I hardly think you to be the one who determines that." Erik tried to reason. Were Christine not here he would have snapped their necks already just for speaking to him and looking at him the way they were. "Christine, come down here." He told her. He would indeed leave; he was not in the mood to break someone's neck tonight, not in her presence. She will be shielded from all the evil I know.

Christine wordlessly ran down the stairs and was about to flit by their side but he stopped her with his stare and said, "go around this way," he directed her to make a wide arch away from the sides of the two men. She did as he said and came to his side, he gently moved her behind him. He felt the rope near his wrist beneath the sleeve of the jacket.

"What a pretty, little, thing." The man to the right acknowledged and stepped forward.

"Erik, let's go." Christine's little voice sounded shaken suddenly. She tugged at the back of his jacket gently.

"Why won't you let us have a little peek," one of the men laughed to Erik who was shaking, trying to contain his fury and his hatred for the prowlers of Paris at that moment. It seems all the monsters come out at night – Erik thought with a sense of humor. But then the seriousness came back as he felt Christine tug more firmly so that they might escape the perverse stare of the two men. It occurred to him then, as they stared at him that they didn't want to look at Christine, it was him.

"Just a little peek," the other repeated and trudged forward.

"Erik." Christine pled now and pulled him so hard he took a step back. He looked down to her and noticed her eyes were stretched in fright and her grip on him was relentless. He had dismissed the other two and didn't notice the blonde one charging in his direction. "No!" Christine shrieked as the man ran. Erik shoved Christine harshly out of the way and fell back with the man on top of him.

Christine watched in terror as the man straddled Erik and pressed his hands into Erik's neck. The other fool had collapsed in a heap of laughter and Christine could only shakily get up from the floor. "Get off of him! Get off of him!" She shouted angrily as Erik reached up to try to pry the man's hands off his throat.

Before her eyes Erik suddenly swiveled and he was above the man. His mask was still in place and then she noticed the other man coming in her direction. She backed up from him and looked to where Erik was wrestling with the assailant; he seemed to have the upper hand.

"Come 'ere darlin'."

"No-no-no!" She whispered harshly. The scarf around her throat felt very tight, and memories of her father getting his head blown apart came back like harsh slaps in the face. She would not let that happen to Erik; she would not let him be distracted.

Christine took off running with the man hot on her heels through the streets of Paris - without her Ange at her to protect her.


Uh-oh.

Seems We have a bit of a pickle here don't we. Well, tell me what you think by answering these questions: Should Christine have run off in order to protect Erik? Should Erik have taken the nonviolent approach like he first wanted to (in order to protect Christine) or should he have just taken them out immediately? Is Erik wrong for wanting to shield Christine so much from everything, and do you think it will backfire?

BONUS: Have you ever seen examples of people being overprotective and it ends up backfiring completely, or better yet, have you ever seen examples of people being overprotective where it DOESN'T backfire completely?

I LOOK FORWARD TO YOUR REVIEWS AND YOUR ANSWERS!