Disclaimer: Don't own The Phantom of the Opera. I am making no profit from this story.

Notes: So glad to see that even though I haven't updated in a long time there are still people reading! I really appreciate the reviews left; they were lovely and very motivating.

Lost in His Obsession

Chapter Fourteen

Day Ten

Christine was unsure about many things when it came to her angel, save one:

She could watch him play forever.

Usually so imposing, once seated at his piano Erik seemed more gentle and patient. She loved to watch his fingers move over the keys almost as much as she loved the relaxed expression on what she could see of his face.

Christine heard the key change in the song that cued her to begin to sing, and she smiled, doing so effortlessly, her voice rising to melt into the music seamlessly.

She had to admit, it was times like these that she could most imagine staying below with him forever.

Listening to Christine's pure voice harmonizing with his melody caused goose bumps to break out across his body, and Erik's eyes slid closed in ecstasy. His music was destined for her voice alone, and listening to hit was as close as Erik had ever come, or ever would come, to a holy experience.

"Good, good… sustain the note through the bridge…" he coaxed, fingers thundering over the keys flawlessly.

Christine heard the praise in his words and with a smile, her voice rose up over the break for the final crescendo, heart racing and chest nearly heaving.

"Yes, yes!" Erik cried, enraptured as he pounded out the last few notes, gasping for breath.

As the sound slowly dissipated, Erik's head hung low, shoulders lifting and falling with his rough respirations.

Christine was just as breathless, and felt very warm, her cheeks were rosy and the blush extended down across her chest, staining her bosom a lovely shade of pink. She felt a curious heat, and longing, deep within herself, and blushed all the more for it. Innocent, yes; but she was not naive.

Slowly regaining control of his breathing, Erik turned on the bench and with only the slightest hesitation, met Christine's gaze.

"Perfection." He rasped, causing Christine to shyly look away.

"Thank you, maestro." She murmured, and after a moment or two of uncomfortable silence, she was startled when Erik abruptly stood. Her head lifted on reflex to meet his gaze once again, and she marveled at the slightly disheveled look of him.

His hair was a little out of place, and damp at the temples with perspiration. His face was also moist, and Christine was struck with the realization that beneath his mask he must be terribly uncomfortable.

"Erik," she began, and he started as if abruptly brought out of deep thought, "Erik, you must be too warm, why don't you-"

His hand shot up, palm facing her in interruption.

"Do not ask it of me, Christine." He said simply, before walking purposefully across the room.

"I'm afraid I need to leave you here on your own for a few hours. I must meet with an… associate regarding supplies and materials needed here at my home. It would be best for me to attend this meeting alone. I trust you will be all right here for a short while? Perhaps you can finish that novel you were reading last night?"

Christine nodded, a little too surprised by his sudden declaration to speak, and he gave her a small smile and short bow in response.

"Good. I shall see you in a few hours time. Please, do not leave the house while I am away, the passages can be misleading, and you do not want to get lost, hmm?"

"O-of course, Erik. I will remain here, don't worry about me." She managed a careful smile, and reassured, Erik relaxed his posture slightly and made for the door.

Christine watched him leave, and when she heard the door close heavily behind him, a chill ran down her spine. All alone in the underground lair of the Opera Ghost, Christine thought, what would Meg say about this, I wonder?

Giggling nervously, she turned toward the library, thinking that Erik's suggestion to read was most apt. It was as she walked down the narrow hallway that she passed The Door.

It was always closed, and Christine remembered the first time Erik brought her here, he had told her that the room as off limits, that it contained things not for her eyes. She hesitated. Was it locked? What if she just took a small peek? After all, she wanted so much to better understand him; perhaps the contents of the room would aid her on that quest?

Picking up a nearby candle, Christine reached out trembling fingers and grasped the cold metal of the doorknob-it turned easily in her hand, as if encouraging her to continue inside. The door opened silently, and she stepped inside, holding the candle high to look around her, and froze.

In the center of the room on a raised platform was a coffin.

And she screamed.