Thank you guys for all the wonderful reviews! I love hearing from you.

Chapter Ten: (The Country Manor) Part Three

August 15, 1867

Dear Angel of Music,

Sister Monica is very ill. She has been sick for a few days now. We are all praying for her. Sister Luisa and Sister Martha were on the verge of tears today in the morning. Mother Superior tried to encourage us all, but I know that Sister Monica's condition is serious. Mary Catherine and I stayed up all night praying for her.

And now, I am starting to panic. Oh, Angel, I don't want her to die. Why do bad things have to happen?

I have been praying so much. Angel, would you please pray with me?

Tell Him, Angel, please, tell God to heal Sister Monica.

Lovingly,

Christine Daee

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine's brows delicately pleated in concentration as she scanned the music sheet Erik had given her. It was a part of an Opera called "Faust". She was to sing the part of "Margarita". Christine was not familiar with this piece. After several minutes of futilely trying to read the notes, Christine lifted her eyes back to Erik who was seated by the piano, waiting.

"I, um - " Christine started a bit embarrassed. "I'm not familiar with this piece. And it's been so long since I last sang." She trailed off, waiting for Erik's reaction.

"That's fine. Christine. Just follow my lead."

With that, Erik started playing the piece, to familiarize Christine with the music. Then he asked her to sing. She started, faltering every now and then. Sometimes she would sing an off note. Erik always stopped when she missed a note or faltered, correcting her and asking her to repeat that part. After an hour, Christine was able to sing the song fairly well. Turning in his seat, Erik regarded Christine.

"You did well, but we still have much to practice."

Christine was pleased with herself. She knew that she hadn't sung the piece half as well as it was supposed to be sung, but she was proud that she had mastered the piece fairly well. With practice, she was sure she would be good. She smiled at him.

"I know I didn't sing it quite the way it is supposed to be sung. I'm sorry for that," Christine amended.

"This was your first time singing this piece, and accordingly, you did well, Christine." Erik paused a moment, as if contemplating something, then went on. "Now, I want you to sing me one of the songs your father used to play for you."

The color drained from Christine's face and her eyes widened in surprise and dread.

"Wh - what?" she asked, hugging her waist and moving a step back from the piano, in nervousness.

Erik swore silently. He hated ruining the peaceful mood that they had enjoyed during the lesson. It was imperative that Christine sing something that meant happiness and family to her. She would feel the emotions of the song and that was one of the basics that Erik was trying to teach her. She had sung "Faust" well enough, for a first practice; but while singing it, there had been no semblance of any emotion, one of Christine's biggest flaws in singing. It was such a shame; such a voice would go to waste because of lack of practice and emotion. With that thought in mind, Erik pressed on.

"You heard me. Sing something your father used to play for you," he casually but firmly stated as if he hadn't noticed what his request was doing to her. Christine paled even more and shook her head violently back and forth.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, looking back at him, her big blue eyes tearful, her tension rising. "I can't. I just can't."

Betrayal and hurt were stamped upon her face, as if Erik had just stabbed her in the back. Christine whirled, lifted her skirts slightly in her hands and in a flash of yellow and white silk, she ran from the room. Erik swore again under his breath as he quickly rose from the piano bench and went after her.

Christine made her way blindly to her room. She should have known that he would betray her like this. She had agreed to sing because she loved singing, although she had tried to stop. Erik's teaching her had given Christine new hope and a sense of joy and peace. Then he had to ask her to sing something that would remind her of every single, painful reason that had caused Christine to stop singing for all those years. It was as if she had gone ten years back and was standing in the church singing part of the requiem for her father's one-year anniversary memorial. Why, oh why, did Erik do that to her? She had told him how much it hurt her to remember.

She had just reached her room and was attempting to turn the door knob with her trembling hand, when, before she could discern what was happening, she felt a strong arm around her waist, gently turning her around. She was being held in a tight, warm embrace, pressed against a solid chest.

"Don't cry," Erik whispered as he kissed the top of her head.

"He said that he was c-coming back. He told me he would be b-back." Christine whimpered, her voice shrill and squeaky. "B-but he never came. He left me forever."

A sob tore from the depths of Christine's being. She was helpless to stop it, nor could she stop the flood of words that, once begun, now came rushing out of her.

"I always waited for him, b-but he never came, and then the sisters at the c-convent told me that he had died, in an a-accident," she whimpered, making fists in his shirt, pressing her face and body closer to him as if she could melt into him. Erik held her tighter, his hands moving soothingly, tracing small circles with his thumb across her back.

Holding her so close, Erik froze for a moment as a surge of protectiveness and emotion washed over him.

The next thing Christine knew she had been swept up into Erik's strong arms and was being carried down the hall. Christine gasped in surprise and wrapped her arms around his neck. When in the living room, Erik sat on a chair by the fireplace with Christine in his lap. Once he had them seated by the fire, he whispered her name, soothingly, "Christine."

She told herself to stop talking but for some reason the words refused to stop. She sobbed quietly as she continued her story. "Only he hadn't died in an accident. H-he was m-murdered. Mother Superior s-said." Another sob tore from Christine, wrenching Erik's heart as he planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. "She s-said that Papa had known, he-he knew that they were going to k-kill him, and he wanted to pro-protect me."

Erik felt like the lowest bastard that had ever walked the Earth. Guilt. It ate at his heart as he felt Christine weeping in his arms. She thought him her Angel while in truth he was a monster. He felt his own eyes becoming moist at the memories, things that Christine would never know, never. Erik would make sure of that. He murmured sweet nothings in her ear, his voice calming and soothing her, wrapping her in a peaceful, beautiful cocoon. Christine's weeping turned to shudders and then small whimpers.

"H-how can anyone kill another person? I just can't understand it," she whispered, her energy spent as she slumped against Erik, emotionally and physically exhausted. She relished the feel of his arms around her and the solidness of his chest. In that moment, he was her rock and strength.

Erik sighed, feeling more guilty than he had ever felt in his entire life.

"Life is not fair, Christine. Things happen that we cannot control or change. But life goes on and we must go on as well," Erik replied gently.

She sniffled and buried her face more snuggly in his shirt, by the crook of his neck. Erik could feel her warm breath on his neck. A moment of peaceful silence passed between them, the tension easing out of Christine completely. Erik sat there, cradling her in his arms as he watched the flames dance in the fireplace, throwing shadows across the room.

"Erik?"

"Hmm?"

Christine pushed herself away from his chest to be able to look at his face. He smoothed her hair, brushing a blond curl from her face.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Erik smiled slightly, his eyes glowing in the firelight. "You're welcome."

Christine felt curiously peaceful and free. Having finally spoken of those painful memories to someone, to Erik, was a blessing, she realized as she lay in Erik's arms.

A few moments passed and Christine found herself frowning. She had trusted Erik with everything. She had told him about her pain, her loneliness and about the circumstances of her father's death and yet, he didn't trust her enough to even show her his face. Biting her lower lip, Christine contemplated the matter for a few moments. Her curiosity and concern getting the best of her, she decided that now was the time to ask him.

"Erik," she said again, against the crook of his neck.

His hands were brushing her hair, moving over her arms and back in a gentle soothing way. Christine found herself wanting to remain in his arms forever.

"Yes, Angel," Erik replied calmly.

"I, um, I want to ask you something. I just don't want you to get angry," she said hesitantly and he could feel her tense a little in his arms.

Thinking of nothing but soothing her, Erik replied confidently, "Ask me anything, Angel."

A moment of silence passed as Christine contemplated the best way to broach the subject. There was no other way but a simple, direct question, she concluded.

"Why do you wear a mask?" she blurted out.

Erik's gentle ministrations on her back and arms stopped abruptly as he froze and she could feel his entire body tense. His eyes that were glowing before now blazed. Christine could feel the tension in the air around them. She silently wondered if she had made a mistake.

Erik firmly but gently moved her off his lap, setting her feet on the floor as he stood from the chair.

Bending down, so that his eyes were at her eye level, Erik spoke with deadly calm. "Pray that you never see behind the mask, Christine." Seeing the startled frightened look in her eyes, Erik sighed. Christine's wide eyes stared into Erik's – and in that moment, she saw a pain so deep that she ached for him. "You are far too beautiful, innocent and pure to see me."

He turned away from her and went straight to his room, leaving her looking after him, bewildered. What did he mean by that last statement? Christine wondered, her heart twisting at the pain she had seen in his eyes and heard in that beautiful, heavenly voice of his.

She clasped her hands before her and turned to the fire, watching the flames jump at each other. She didn't know what to do. She wanted to go after him, to apologize. She had hurt him somehow, only she didn't know why or how exactly. Yes, Christine decided, gathering all her courage. Erik was her Angel and he had helped her so much. Now she was going to try to return the favor. Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow she would prove to him that nothing could sway her from him. No matter the face, she knew the man and the Angel, and that was what was important.

With that thought in mind, Christine made her way to her room. When she had opened the door and adjusted the lighting, her gaze fell upon a beautiful red rose, tied with a black satin ribbon, placed on her white, fluffy pillow. Christine's eyes filled with tears. Erik… She walked toward the bed and reverently lifted the rose, bringing it to her face and inhaling its beautiful scent. Holding the rose to her heart, Christine sat on the bed. A strong, deep, frightening and yet beautiful emotion - a feeling she couldn't quite understand - filled her. Did she love Erik? She wondered.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Erik stood by the open window in his room, staring out at the night sky. He silently berated himself for leaving her that rose in her room. Now it was too late to retrieve it. Why had he done such a foolish thing? Erik thought to himself. He of all people knew how hopeless the situation was. What was he trying to do, seduce Christine, in the middle of this whole mess?

So what if he deeply cared for her. So what if she stirred feelings inside of him, feelings that he was terrified to acknowledge. It was doomed. Whatever this was, anything between him and this Angel, this miracle that had been placed in his path, was impossible. Oh, how he yearned to hold her in his arms and never let go, to keep her with him forever. She was a light in his darkness, a hope in his despair.

Christine…his fleeting glimpse of heaven… Oh, but he would have the memories to cherish forever.

She had asked about the mask. Erik sighed. Removing it from his face with one swift move, Erik allowed the night breeze to caress his ravaged, deformed skin.

In that moment he didn't know if he should laugh or cry at the irony. She thought he was an Angel, while in truth he was a monster.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Another fist met with Phillipe's jaw and blood sputtered out of his mouth. Phillipe breathed in the pain. Tied to a chair, he couldn't defend himself. He was completely and utterly at their mercy. He was covered with bruises.

"You know, Phillipe, I have always wanted to kill you. Not to worry though. Me and my comrades WILL kill you and your charming little brother. And not to forget that curvaceous, luscious fiancée of yours," the man laughed in perverted merriment.

"You son of a bitch," Phillipe spat out. "I will kill you."

"Don't make threats you know you can not carry out." Grabbing a handful of Phillipe's hair, he jerked Phillipe's head backwards. Phillipe gritted his teeth against the pain, feeling his neck on the verge of snapping.

"However," the man continued silkily, applying more pressure. "There might be a way to prevent such a tragedy from happening to the De Chagny family. Your brother and your beautiful fiancée could be spared, if you cooperate."

With a final jerk that twisted Phillipe's neck even further, he let go of Phillipe's hair. Phillipe tried to ease his strained neck that felt so stiff, the pain cutting through him. Taking a deep labored breath, Phillipe knew that this was a dead end situation. He had to cooperate with them. What other choice did he have?

After a moment, when he had caught his breath, he asked: "What is it you want?"

"The living corpse, that monster Erik, is searching for the traitor. And he will find him." The man smirked, moving away from the chair that held Phillipe and lighting a cigarette, before eyeing Phillipe again. "The traitor will be you."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The next morning, Christine awoke to the sound of beautiful music. She was coming to believe that Erik liked to play in the morning. What a glorious way to wake up, she thought with a smile.

Today was the day. Today she would prove to him that no matter what he hid behind the mask he wore, she loved him. Loved him? The realization hit Christine full force, just like the rays of the sun that filled Christine's room, illuminating it with light.

Stretching on the bed, Christine slowly got up. She had slept in her dress. Brushing her hair, Christine emerged from her room and walked toward the music room. The music engulfed her and drowned her in its beauty.

Pushing the door of the music room open, Christine stood for a moment staring at Erik, at how absorbed by the music he was, as if his soul was bound to the music.

Taking a deep breath, Christine approached. She had to be strong; she had to prove to him that she didn't care about his face.

Standing behind him for a moment, Christine contemplated the wisdom of her decision. Perhaps she should tell him and ask him to remove the mask. Only somehow she knew that he never would. Her curiosity was eating at her as well. What better way to tell Erik that she loved him than to remove his mask and surprise him by kissing him and confessing her love. Yes, she thought, it would be perfect.

Christine stretched her soft hand to the side of his face. With one swift move, she removed the mask.

The music stopped and before she could blink, he had turned around enraged and shocked.

And God help her, nothing could have prepared her for that sight. Her eyes widened. She couldn't breathe or move. A scream formed in her throat.

Erik unmasked.