A/N: Sorry for not updating for so long! As usual, I had a lot packed into my schedule. I worked really hard on this chapter, so I hope everyone enjoys it!

Disclaimer: Phantom will never belong to me, even if I stalk ALW for the rest of his life.

Chapter 10: A Coming Storm

She was lost.

Trapped inside a whirlwind of confusion, with absolutely no way to know where she was or how she had gotten there in the first place. There seemed to be no means of escape, no light to guide her back to safety and out of the surrounding darkness. Nothing existed, nothing stirred or breathed. All she knew was that she had strayed into dangerously unfamiliar territory, and that he was there somewhere with her too.

Only when she had control over her breathing did she dare to open her eyes again. The swirling vortex had vanished, and she was back on solid ground. Her heart was still beating wildly in her chest, though she tried her best to slow it. She forced herself to look up into his eyes, to see the emotion that swam in the depths of those grey-green pools of mystery. He was only staring back at her with the familiar intensity she knew better than the back of her own hand.

"Why. . . How . . . What have you done?" she whispered, slowly backing away in disbelief. "How dare you!"

He was dismayed by her reaction. "Christine, wait." He took a small, cautious step towards her. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to -"

"To what, Erik?" she demanded to know. "To overstep the only boundary you had set for yourself?"

She waited in complete silence for his answer.

"No." He shook his head back and forth slowly, his gaze never wavering. "I will never be sorry for what I have just done."

Holding his gaze defiantly, she asked in a strained voice, "Then what do you have to be sorry for?"

He took a long, slow breath before answering: "For confusing you further. That was not my intention."

Her mind was whirling with sudden anger. Suddenly throwing her hands up in the air in frustration, Christine practically screamed at him, "Then what was your intention, Erik? Did you want me to feel inhuman, to understand why you can't let me go? Was that it? Is that what you wanted?"

Erik frowned. "I only wanted you to see the truth, to realize what I already know."

Christine knew what he meant, but she could not believe that had been his reason. Could he never come to except that she did not love him, that she loved someone else? She had tried to tell him before, so many times before, and never had it worked then. She supposed it wouldn't work now, were she to tell him, but what else could she say to him? How else could she make him realize that what he had just done had not changed anything?

"I love him, Erik," she said gently. "Nothing you do can change that, can ever change that."

"But you also love me, Christine," he countered. "And I doubt anything could ever change that, even if you truly don't love me in the same way." He said this in a tone that suggested he believed this was untrue. After a brief pause, he continued by asking, "Was kissing me so horrible, Christine? Was it truly your worst nightmare? Did you open your eyes knowing you would face a monster?"

Once Christine realized that she had no real answers to his questions, she shook her head and stammered, "I - I'm sorry, Erik. I need . . . I need some time alone."

And without another word, she was gone, leaving her Angel behind to sigh in defeat.

Once the sun began to set that night, Christine wondered why Amelia hadn't come to fetch her for dinner. Erik always sent his maid for her around that time.

But that wasn't the main thing she had been thinking about for the good portion of the afternoon.

She knew it shouldn't have happened. She knew it was his overwhelming power he had over her that had caused her to feel so confused, and not because he had kissed her. No, that was not what it had been at all. She still loved Raoul. She always would. Now it seemed that it was quite possible for Raoul to find her. His love for her would drive him to search until he found her. He wouldn't give up.

She didn't know she had picked it up until she was staring down at it, gently rolling it between her thumb and forefinger. That infamous ring. . . . Did it really belong on her left finger? And to who and where did she belong?

Just as the last orange glow of the sun retreated below the horizon, fast-rolling dark-gray clouds promised the arrival of a coming storm. Thunder rumbled somewhere far off in the distance, causing a man sitting atop a carriage in the drivers' seat to glance up curiously at the sky. A single rain drop fell and hit him square on the nose. Quickly wiping it away, the man grumbled something unintelligible under his breath. The swirling clouds above his head only darkened his already gloomy spirits. His life was falling apart faster than he had ever imagined, and the only thing he had left was hope. And even that seemed quite foolish to him now.

He abruptly pulled back the reigns, causing the two white horses pulling the carriage to come to an abrupt halt. Easily jumping to the ground, the man came up beside one of the horses and began releasing its binds to the carriage.

The side door opened then, and the head of Madame Giry appeared. "Why in God's name have we stopped?" she asked, subconsciously rubbing her head.

Now free from the carriage, Raoul pulled the horse away and swung his leg quite effortlessly over the side of the white steed.

"Have you gone mad?" Madame Giry asked, climbing out of the carriage, closely followed by a curious Meg. "Where do you intend to go from here? All you have to go on are vague directions from an architect and you have absolutely no idea where we are at the moment."

Raoul half-turned his head towards them to say: "Of course that doesn't help the present situation, but what other choice do I have?" Sighing, he glanced away and mumbled, "I think it would be best if I carried on alone from here."

Madame Giry scoffed. "You've made that rather obvious, you fop!"

Raoul immediately turned the horse around to face the pair. Sensing its riders' anger, it began pawing the ground fiercely, while blowing threateningly through its nose. The wild look in both their eyes did not go unnoticed by either Meg or Madame Giry.

In a much gentler tone, Meg said, "Monsieur, perhaps we should carry on a little further. Then, if we do not attain directions we can follow, you can continue on . . . alone."

The young Giry thought she saw a flicker of something in his eyes, but it was gone before she could tell if it had just been her imagination.

"No," he finally said. "We will still have the same problem then as we do now. I must thank you both for accompanying me this far, but I should never have asked you to join me. I can carry on much faster with just me, my shadow, and this horse." Turning the white beast back around, he said, "I'll have a better chance of finding her. This is the only way."

"Raoul, wait -" The sound of galloping hooves drowned out Meg's voice. As the horse carried the young Vicomte away on its back, mother and daughter watched the dirt fly out from behind them.

When they were completely out of sight, Meg broke the silence by asking: "What can we do now that he's taken off?"

Madame Giry gazed with narrowed eyes down the road. "For now, we let him go, let the fool try his best. The only thing we can do that will be beneficial is to follow behind with high hopes. If he doesn't get himself killed, we may still have a chance of saving Christine."

As she looked out of the sole window in her room from her sitting position on the bed, she watched as gloomy clouds slowly rolled past. Christine knew a storm was coming.

As she stared, her mind wandered. She wondered why things were becoming so difficult all of a sudden. She should be able to face him, to look him straight in the eye. Maybe even speak to him. She was not afraid of him - not completely, anyway. Nor should she be. So why was it still so hard for her to accept her fate? She had promised to be his wife in return for their old lessons. He had held his end of the bargain . . . and now it was her turn.

The only problem she was faced with now was she would have to kiss him . . . again. And this time, she could not pull away: A kiss sealed the bond between a man and women who wanted to spend the rest of their lives together.

But was that what she truly wanted, to spend the rest of her days by Erik's side?

Christine knew she would not be able to answer that question, not without thinking everything through. Marrying Erik would ultimately be giving up on Raoul, giving up on the hope of him ever finding her, leaving him behind in the dust. But it would be a lie to say it wasn't what she wanted. A small part of her was telling her to marry Erik, and she couldn't ignore that, no matter how small a part it was.

Now is the time to decide, Christine, she told herself. It's now or never.

Erik wondered as he passed her room if she would ever come back out again. She had been very quiet, and had politely declined Amelia's tray of food less than an hour ago, claiming she was not hungry. Though he knew that could be very true, he now worried that he had indeed made a terrible mistake.

He shut the door behind him without making a sound. As he took a seat in a chair close to the window, he noticed numerous clouds floating overhead, as if a dark burden had come back to haunt him. It was as if what he had done was being frowned upon by God Himself.

Was he to be punished for following what he felt was right? He had thought kissing Christine would make her realize her love for him, that she loved him in a way that she did not love Raoul. As the situation stood now, it looked as if things were not in his favor.

And as for the de Changny boy, he was another problem. Erik had heard about his absurd plans to come searching for her. He had left his home and money to search for someone he would spend the rest of his life trying to find . . . only to fail. A foolish move that was, at best.

Though he knew there was a slim chance of the boy finding Christine, Erik had made preparations to insure that if Raoul did somehow manage to find them, he would not leave with Christine.

Erik knew that if the Vicomte would show his face, he would do so quite soon. He was getting very close to their location without realizing it. Erik wondered if Raoul had somehow received help from an outside source. The boy had money to burn, so why not spend it on finding Christine? He could have easily hired a private investigator to track her down.

Erik suddenly realized that even the best private investigator or police force in the world would ever find them, would ever catch him. He had taken the time to cover up the few tracks he had left. There was a very small chance of ever being discovered.

So his only problem was now Christine. What could he do to make her realize how much she truly loved him, and not nearly as much as that pestering Raoul de Chagny?

It was some time before he reached the town, and thought it strange that he didn't have a clue as to where he was. As Raoul rode into the main square, he dismounted his horse and gently guided it by holding the reigns. He saw a place to tie up his horse, right near a fruit and vegetable stand.

As he began tying up the horse, he caught a bit of conversation between the two men selling fruits and vegetables to customers.

"Do you suppose she is afraid of him?" a rather deep, mysterious voice asked.

There was a short pause. "Of course I do!" another more monotone voice replied. "You've seen her. Every time she comes into town, she only talks to the people she has to. Very unsociable, hardly speaks to anyone. I've even noticed she's rather skittish, you know, doesn't like to be around large groups of people much."

"Have you heard the stories? About the things he does to her?"

"Stories?" the man asked. "What stories?"

"That he locks her up every night and only lets her out to make meals for him and that girl. . . . What's her name again?"

"Caroline something or other, something close to that I think," the monotone voice replied. "I heard he locks her up."

"The only difference between them is that he loves that Caroline girl. I bet he treats the maid far worse. Wouldn't you think?" the deep voice asked.

"I can only imagine."

Raoul grabbed the post to hold himself steady as his vision become blurry. The name and situation were far too close to be a coincidence. Could he really have just found what he'd been searching for? Had he really just found a way to Christine?

Gathering his composure, he stood up straight and summoned all the strength he had left.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," he said walking up to the pair. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. Is what you say true?"

A rather beefy man, to which the deep, mysterious voice belonged, leaned forward and whispered, "Oh, it's quite true, sir."

"And this - this Caroline . . . does she enjoy living with this man?"

"From what I've heard, she does," the other, a very skinny man, replied. "Even though he doesn't treat her much better than his maid, she enjoys being with him. Rather insane, if you ask me."

"And the man? What is his name?"

"Oh, no one knows his name," the skinny man said. "Although, I've heard the maid even calls him master."

Before Raoul could ask the question for which he was certain he would receive an answer, the big, deep-voiced man said, "Speak of the devil. Look, there she is now!" He pointed a large finger to a point somewhere over Raoul's shoulder.

Turning to look, Raoul saw who he knew was the maid the two men were speaking of. She had long, curly light brown hair with a heart-shaped face which she was trying to hide behind an old shawl. She was rather skinny, and she looked underfed. He could tell by the way she held herself that she was uncomfortable. She had a basket full of food she was carrying, and her eyes darted from person to person, as if fearing detection of some sort as she walked around the main square of town.

Without looking away from her, he asked, "So she lives with Carolina and who she calls master?"

"Yes, all day every day," the monotone voice replied. "God bless her brave soul."

The next moment, Raoul saw her climb into a carriage, which started bumping along down the nearest dirt road. He knew now was the time to act.

Turning to the two gentlemen, he said, "Well, I'd better be on my way now. Thank you both for your time. Perhaps we'll meet again so that I may thank you properly. Good day, gentlemen!"

Then Raoul was off, following the carriage atop his horse before the two men could do or say anything.

"What, did I say something?" the skinny man asked.

The other man only shrugged.

Erik waited.

It had been quite a long time since Christine had left her room. She'd spent more time in there than he could ever remember her being.

He tried to tell himself it was nothing. She was just spending some time alone. Yes, that had to be it.

Erik knew that it was sometime early in the morning when he heard a quiet knock on his door. He stopped pacing, which had begun several hours ago. Glancing out the window, he could see that the gray clouds had not moved and were still lurking overhead. It looked as if it could rain at any moment.

But what could Amelia want this early in the morning? Hadn't she gotten back from town a while ago? Why would she need to talk to him now?

"Come in," he called, unable to keep a note of anger out of his voice.

The door opened very slowly, and a small voice called his name: "Erik?"

Before the door even fully opened, he knew that the voice did not belong to Amelia. "Christine? Are you alright?" He crossed the room in two strides and opened the door the rest of the way. He immediately noticed her face was stained with tears and that her eyes were puffy and red from irritation, as if she had rubbed them a number of times.

He longed to reach out and wipe the moisture from her face, but he kept his hands steady at his sides . . . with some difficulty. "What happened?"

She let a tiny, emotionless laugh escape from her lips. "It's just that I've been thinking a lot, and. . . . I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't be disturbing you this early, but may I come in?"

Puzzled but curious, Erik immediately stepped aside to let her through. "Of course." He closed the door behind her and turned to find her standing next to the window.

"There's a storm coming," she said in a voice suddenly cracked with emotion.

"Yes."

Before she knew it, he was standing right behind her. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the reason why she had come to talk to him.

"Is something wrong?" Erik asked, concern clouding all other thought.

"No, no everything's fine," she promised. There was a short silence before she continued. "But I have something to tell you."

Silently thinking that something must be wrong, Erik could only ask, "What is it?"

Christine continued to stare out of the window for a moment. "I've made my decision."

He frowned, confused. "And what decision would this be exactly?"

She took a deep breath, and began: "It's time I let go of my past. Most of the memories are either too painful or sad for me to reflect upon. I don't want to remember anything, Erik. It will be hard to move on if I don't let go of them now; the only thing I have to look forward to is my future. It's the only thing I have control over, the one thing that can be better than my past."

Erik took a disbelieving step backwards, but quickly froze when she continued.

"He was my childhood sweetheart, the one love of my life. Looking back, I remember him being my main source of happiness. Right after my father died . . . it seemed like he was the only one there for me. He'll always be tied to my childhood, no matter what happens. I guess this is why it was so hard for me to accept. I didn't want to let him go."

He noticed how she used the past tense, and could only wait with baited breath for the remainder of her words.

"And you . . . you came into my life and changed everything. You took notice of my love for music, and made my voice into what it is now. You sang to me, you taught me to sing so beautifully . . . and you loved me. You were what my father had promised. You were my Angel of Music. You were so very different from him, and yet very much the same.

"It was inevitable, there was no way you could have prevented me from knowing eventually. I admit I was devastated when I came to find that you were just a man. This meant my father had not kept his promise to me. But I still could not let you go. You were right, Erik, so right that it scared me. I loved you then as I do now.

"And then you somehow came between him and me. I still don't know how it all fell into place, nor do I want to, but it was time for me to decide: I had to choose one or the other. And I chose him over you.

"I didn't understand my choice then, why I had left you behind. But now I know why. I was afraid that if I lost him, I would forget. I thought the memories of my father and childhood would fade away. But staying here with you has proven I have not forgotten. I can still remember everything just as I could before."

"Christine -" It was becoming too much for her, she had to stop.

"No, let me finish, Erik. Please."

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to continue:

"I understand now. I understand what you have been trying to tell me from the beginning. I know you brought me here because you wanted me to see it with my own eyes, you wanted me to see that I love you, and that I always have. I thought it was cruel because I didn't understand why. But I do now.

"I was scared of you - not scared because of who you are or what you've done, but because of what I feel for you. I was so confused, I had everything wrong. You were right all this time."

It was then that she turned to face him, and he knew what was coming as he knew a storm was.

"I made the mistake of leaving you behind once, Erik," she said, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks. "And I do not intend for it to happen again." She felt his hands on the sides of her face in the next second, and couldn't help but smile. "I love you," she whispered. "All of you." Christine very carefully removed the white mask from the right side of his face and let it fall to the floor.

"I'm sure I'll always love you more, Christine," he whispered back. "No matter what happens from this point onward."

She gently laid a hand on the scarred flesh. "I guess I'll have to spend the rest of my life trying to prove you wrong."

She slowly leaned closer to him until their lips met.

Christine knew she would get lost again, but this time, she wanted to. She knew the territory now, and she was with him; she was with Erik, her other half.

She was home.

"Erik," she asked quietly a few heartbeats later. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," he breathed.

"Would you put this on me?"

Erik watched as Christine opened a clenched fist. There, in the palm of her hand, was the ring. "Christine -"

"I know you have your reservations on the matter, but I know it's what we'll both want in the end."

He stared at her for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. Then, doing his best to keep his hands steady, he took her left hand in his and gently slid the ring onto the third finger.

Erik later wished he could somehow have stopped time at that moment and changed something, for what happened next only made all the hatred he had ever felt come alive.

He had failed to realize that it had begun raining. He could hear it now, pounding against the roof.

Hearing Christine gasp suddenly at his side, he glanced out the window to see a figure dismounting from a white horse below, a glimmering silver sword in his hand.

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