(A/N: I got this chapter done sooner than I expected, so, yay! Hope you enjoy it.)

Angelique surpassed everything I expected of her tonight. She always sounded magnificent in rehearsals—not that I told her that; I need to keep her humble—but tonight…ah! Words are failing me. Her voice…I—I can't describe it. It's as if…as if…as if through her voice I've found part of myself that I didn't know was missing.

What am I saying? She is nothing compared to Christine. And yet…Angelique knew—no, she understood! She understood how the song was supposed to be sung, and she interpreted it correctly, following my instructions but supplementing them with her own wits. Oh, she was remarkable.

And the audience reacted exactly as I expected—bemused at first, enraptured for the rest of the song. They do not care about her face now.

After the performance, I waited for her behind the wall of her dressing room. This one doesn't have a two-way mirror that leads to the cellars, but I contemplated installing one. It would make it easier for her to come down for her lessons.

It wasn't long before I heard the door open and then close again. "Erik? Erik, are you here?" Angelique asked, breathless with excitement.

I opened the hidden panel and stepped into her room. After a performance like that, she needed to be congratulated in person.

"I am here, Angelique."

She removed the headdress and shook out her hair. Her eyes glistened with triumph and elation. "How did I do?"

There was something about the way she stood there, eyes alight and grin broad…something that reminded me of myself. The joy she had taken in the music was so similar to what I experienced every time I played or composed…

All of this probably explains my reaction: I hugged her. I think I managed to scare her at the same time, but I wasn't trying to. It took her a few moments to figure how to react.

"There are no words to describe the magnificence of your voice tonight," I murmured. "You achieved no mere triumph this evening, no. It was a conquest."

Angelique pulled away so she could look me in the eye. "If there was a conquest of any sort, you helped me. Thank you." My heart nearly stopped when she leaned forward and kissed my cheek.

It was probably revenge for scaring her with the hug.

Voices and footsteps sounded outside; Angelique looked over her shoulder before pushing me back to the panel.

"You'd better go; I don't think my family would understand seeing you here. Oh, and Erik?"

I paused before resuming my hiding spot. "Yes, Angelique?"

"Thanks for the dress. I really do love it."

I nodded briefly in acknowledgement before sliding behind the wall. I left the panel open a crack, though—with as often as she has talked about her family, I was curious to see what these people really looked like.

They all piled in like a stampeding horde, albeit an organized one. They were, after all, supposed to be refined and part of the upper social strata. The most noticeable of the lot was Madame Descartes, Angelique's mother—one of those annoying women concerned with their place in society and willing to do just about anything to keep it safe.

"Mama can be overbearing, but she loves us. She's concerned about how I'm going to find a husband looking the way I do, but she just wants to make sure I have a good life. Papa thinks differently; he says that a woman with a brain is worth infinitely more than a woman who just has looks."

Yes, Monsieur Descartes definitely looked to be the saner of Angelique's parents—quieter, too. Then, of course, there was the oldest Descartes sibling, Regina…beautiful but haughty; Angelique once told me how she always felt intimidated around Regina.

Although I hadn't recognized Pierre by name when he visited Angelique before the performance, she had often mentioned how close she was to one of her brothers. Her other brother—whom, I discovered this evening, was named Robert—seemed more solemn, more like his father.

I stayed and watched longer than I had planned. I couldn't help it; the scene fascinated me. I had known could be close and full of camaraderie, but I never had a chance to witness it firsthand (well, maybe a little when I was in Persia with the Daroga).

I was just about to turn away when Madame Giry entered the room.

"You have a special guest who wishes to congratulate you, Mademoiselle Angelique," she told her. Then she stepped aside to reveal—no! No, it couldn't be!

Angelique was so startled she almost fell, but she managed to brace herself on the back of a chair. It took her several tries before she stammered out, "Madame de Chagny!"

Yes, it was my Christine…and that insufferable husband of hers. I barely heard the words they offered Angelique; it was all I could do to restrain myself from crashing through the door and taking Christine back down to my lair.

Christine! CHRISTINE! my heart wailed within me. I must have been lost in grief for a long time, for the next thing I knew, they and the rest of the Descarteses had left the room.

I heard Angelique cross over to the hidden panel. She didn't push it aside, but she rested her hand on the outside. "Erik? Are you all right?" she asked softly.

I didn't reply—couldn't reply. I merely pulled the wall shut the rest of the way and stumbled back to the house on the lake, which was quite a feat considering I could barely see for the tears stinging my eyes. I had managed not to think about the agony she had caused me for quite some time; Angelique had proven to be a helpful distraction on that front even if I hadn't been looking for one.

This was a grief that demanded organ playing. To this day I am not entirely sure what I was playing, just that it was loud—so loud that I did not hear someone come up behind me and only noticed I wasn't alone when I paused because of a finger cramp.

I saw a silhouette out of the corner of my eye and turned to face it full-on…Christine! She had returned to her angel!

"Christine," I breathed, hardly daring to believe it. I rose from the organ bench and started for her, but she stepped back, her eyes never leaving my face…my face…no! In my anguish I had removed my mask and wig!

"I heard the organ," she faltered. "I…I…" She shook her head. "I shouldn't have come back." She turned and ran.

"No, Christine! Christine!" I ran after her but tripped on an uneven surface. After running on for a few minutes more, I realized how futile this was. I would never be able to catch her. I had let her go and was never meant to find her again.

This realization of how my life had increased its level of cruelty sapped any will I had. I sank to the floor and allowed my sobs to wrack my body. My grief was all I had.

I do not know how long it was before I heard footsteps headed my way again. I felt a gentle hand laid against my shoulder…could it be?

"Erik?"

It was an angel all right, but not the one I wanted.

"You shouldn't be here, Angelique," I scolded weakly, keeping face turned aside. She had never seen my unmasked face, and today was not the day for it.

"I wasn't sure how you were after…" she trailed off. "I…I wanted to make sure you were all right."

I chuckled at the irony, and in my already high-strung state, my chuckled morphed into an all-out evil laugh. It was so ironic—Christine, the beautiful angel of my dreams, the woman my heart had been screaming for all evening, wanted nothing to do with me while Angelique, a skinny sallow-faced hobgoblin who would never be pretty and would more than likely spend the rest of her life alone because no man would ever find her attractive, was here to check on my well-being.

I shouldn't have been surprised; we all get what we deserve sooner or later. No angel for me, no, just a creature who belonged in the same darkness wherein I hid my face.

"Why are you laughing?" Angelique asked warily.

"It's the irony that is my life that brings you to me. You really want to make sure I'm all right? Really?" I rose, grabbed her wrist, and dragged her back to my house.

Ignoring her protests, I flung her towards the organ. "You wish to heal my soul, to make me forget!? Then SING!" I dragged out Don Juan Triumphant and shoved several pieces of music at her. She sorted them all, trying not to tremble.

"I—I can't sing this, Erik," she protested. "It's too high for me; I'll hurt my voice!"

"SING!" I roared at her.

To her credit, she tried, but her voice came out shrill.

"No, no, no! I taught you better than that, girl!"

She threw down the music and stamped her foot. "I sing better when I'm not being scared to death!"

"Scared?" I grabbed her arm and whirled her around. Her back was now to the fireplace, and I pressed my face into hers. "Why should you be so scared; it is merely I, your teacher. Or did you not know that you placed your trust in a murderous monster?"

"Let me go. Oh, Erik, please let me go," Angelique whispered. Tears began to shine in her eyes.

"Let you go? That will never happen, so you may as well get used to it. Don't you see, my ugly angel? We were made for one another, made to share the darkness, made to"—

I interrupted myself with a pained scream. It seemed that I had made a bad mistake backing Angelique up against the fireplace, for during my monologue, she had reached behind herself and grabbed the fireplace poker. She then proceeded to raised it as high above her head as she could surreptitiously manage…and bring it crashing down on my arm. Startled, I released her, and she bolted for the door.

The pain jolted me back to my senses. What was I thinking? What had I done?

Angelique, can you ever forgive me?