The air was cold and crisp as Erik and I walked one last time through Erik's home underneath the Paris Opera house. I was assaulted by a million memories, a million emotions. It was hard for me to imagine how our life would be, away from the Opera House. It had been all that there was for so long. And Erik had lived here for so long before we had even met. How must he be feeling, leaving his life behind this way?

I had cried the day he had taken the organ apart and stored the pieces in his hidden vault. But although I was sad, I was happy, also, when I thought of our life together.

As we walked away from his underground home I noticed the Persian monkey music box, sitting abandoned on the ground.

"Erik! You forgot your music box," I said.

Erik turned and looked at it. I watched as a myriad of emotions crossed his face. He looked pensive, then somewhat sad and wistful. Then he looked at me and smiled. "I do not want to take it," he said after a moment.

"Why not?" I asked curiously.

Erik gave a little sigh as he looked around the room. Then he turned to face me. "It belongs in the past, along with the Phantom and the Angel," he said with a little ghost of a smile.

His words immediately reminded me of the night at the graveyard. 'Angel or father, friend or phantom. Who is it there?' I had asked, referring to the many sides of the complex Erik. It seemed that he was leaving more than just his home behind. He was leaving behind the Phantom and the Angel of Music and becoming just Erik. I realised I had never heard his surname, but thought that it was not the proper time to ask. Knowing what I knew of his family, I thought perhaps it was better to let him tell me.

"Shall we go?"

"Of course, my love," he said and took my arm as we walked together from his chambers to the lake.

The ride across the lake was silent as I thought of the many times I had been across the lake and realised with a pang that this would be the last time. I fought tears as we reached the opposite bank and Erik helped me from the boat. I saw the glisten of tears in his eyes behind the mask as he sank the boat. I gave him a shaky smile and we walked up and made our way silently through the Opera House. When we reached my old dressing room I cried as I ran my fingers along the frame of the mirror that served as the passageway to Erik's underground world. I thought of the first time I had seen him, a hazy figure in the mirror. He had been my mentor, my angel, for so long.

I smiled though my tears as we walked away from the dressing room and made our way to the Rue Scribe.

By the time we arrived, Charles had loaded our belongings into the wagon. When he saw me he gave me the same curious, almost startled look that he had given me when Erik had first introduced me to him. A carriage waited in front of the wagon.

"I have found a house for you," he said as we met. A chateau in the hills, surrounded by trees with no close neighbours. It was on a large piece of land, with in a days travel of the nearby village. He told us that he thought it was perfect, and that because it had been on the market for some time, the price was far below what it was worth. We could move in immediately if we decided to buy it.

Erik glanced down at me and I smiled up at him. "What about the wedding plans?" he asked, looking nervous.

"The dress will be ready in two days time. I have spoken to the priest, he is available on Saturday," Charles replied.

Three days, I thought. Just three more days and I would become Erik's wife. Erik said nothing; he looked too stunned to speak.

"That is perfect," I said amusedly.

"Yes, yes, that is fine, Charles," Erik said quickly.

"I have arranged for one o'clock on Saturday. You did not mention witness'….if you would like, my wife and I would be glad to do it."

"Wonderful, Charles, thank you," Erik said quietly.

He held out a key to Erik. "For the hotel," he said. "I am sorry, Monsieur, I could not manage to get two rooms. But I spoke with my wife, Muriel, and she offered for Miss Daae to stay with us."

With a little gasp I looked up at Erik, worried. I did not want us to be separated, not now, this soon after leaving the Opera House. Erik had lived in the darkness for so long, I worried to think how he would react to the world above ground.

After a slight pause Erik said, "Thank you, Charles, that will be perfect. We will meet on Saturday, then, at the chapel. My dear, what do you say, after we are married we will go to the country, see the house and then we can make a decision."

"Yes, Erik that is fine," I said, trying not to show my panic. "Can we speak alone?" I asked Charles.

"Of course, Mademoiselle," he said with a slight bow as he walked away.

"Erik! You are going to leave me?" I asked desperately.

"It is only for three days, my love," he said, brushing a hand across my cheek. "Charles and his wife will treat you well. Then we will be married and we will find a home for us."

I looked up at him, blinking back tears.

"I do not want anything to harm your reputation, my dear," he said softly.

I nodded slightly in understanding, then sighed resignedly. "I will go with him, then," I said.

"It is only for a few days, then we will be together."

"Forever," I said with a shaky smile. "I will miss you."

"And I will miss you, Christine," he said. Then he kissed my cheek and led me to Charles, who was waiting by the carriage.

"Thank you for everything, Charles," Erik said as he took the other man's hand and shook it firmly. "I appreciate all you have done for me."

"You are welcome, Monsieur," Charles replied with a smile. Then he held out a hand and helped me onto the seat of the wagon while Erik climbed into the carriage.

I watched as the carriage drove out of sight. Then Charles drove us in the opposite direction. I craned my neck to watch as the grey stone of the Paris Opera House blended into the grey fog, hiding the building from view.

I shivered as I turned and faced forward, ready to face the days ahead, until Erik and I would be married. The thought warmed me and I smiled thinking of Erik's and my future together.

X

Charles and Muriel Emond lived in a small house tucked into a side street on the outskirts of Paris. It was a small house, but it was quite cosy, I noticed as I stepped through the door. Although it was late, the middle of the night, really, Madame Emond was awake and standing inside the door to greet us.

"Muriel, this is Mademoiselle Daae, Mademoiselle Daae, this is my wife, Muriel."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Madame," I said. "Thank you for inviting me to stay in your home."

"It is our pleasure, Mademoiselle," Madame Emond said, her voice somewhat flat. She was a plain woman with long ash blonde hair and grey eyes. "Would you care for a cup of tea?"

"That would be wonderful, thank you," I replied. Charles helped me out of my cloak and we walked into a cosy little library where Madame Emond poured tea and passed around a plate of cookies.

We talked for some time, discussing the wedding arrangements and such. Apparently Muriel had never met Erik but had heard of him from Charles. She was polite and gracious, but I could see something in her eyes that betrayed her feelings about Erik. A slight disgust when we spoke of him.

Before long Charles excused himself and left his wife to show me to my room. She was quiet as she led me upstairs to a small bedroom. She pointed out another bedroom where she said her two sons, aged six and four, were sleeping.

I set my small handbag down on the bed and turned to Muriel. "Thank you again for allowing me to stay with you," I said softly.

"You are welcome, Mademoiselle," she said. Then she paused, looking at me. "May I…may I ask you a question?" she asked.

"Yes?"

"Do you…have you seen this Erik? Have you seen behind the mask he wears? Please, Miss, I mean no offence," she said quickly.

My first instinct was to become angry, but I saw the concern in her eyes and sighed. This was a question which I would need to get used to answering.

"Yes, Madame, I have," I said, looking into her eyes.

Her grey eyes betrayed her surprise. "You have, Miss?"

"Yes. Quite some time ago," I said simply.

"I-I have never seen him, but my husband has told me…" she paused and glanced down.

"I love him," I said softly. "He is the most caring, loving man I have ever met. That is what is important to me."

Madame Emond looked up at me. I looked back evenly, my head high.

"Well, then I am truly happy for you," she said. She stood up. "Do you have need of anything else?"

"No, thank you," I said. And with that Muriel nodded her head and left, shutting the door behind her.

So Charles had seen Erik without the mask. I had wondered. And he had told his wife. I thought of Erik and how hard it must have been for him all these years. To be feared and hated because of how you look, I could not imagine how he must have felt. I remembered my initial horror when I had removed his mask, and the look of disgust on Raoul's face when he first saw Erik's unmasked face. And of course, I remembered Erik's words to me the night he had proposed. We will never be free of my face, he had said. I was only just beginning to realise what he meant. But far from making me want to leave, it only deepened my love and admiration of him.

I sank onto the bed and a wave of loneliness washed over me. How I missed my Erik. I was quite tired, so I changed into my night dress and slid into the bed. The room was cold and bare, quite different from elegant and cosy room beneath the Opera House. I sighed and blew out the candle on the nightstand, wishing that it was Saturday.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I awoke slowly, to a sensation that I had not felt in decades. The feel of early morning sunshine on my face which was unmasked. I had forgotten to draw the curtains the night before.

Quickly I got up and walked to the door, which led to a small balcony. It was quite early and, as I peered through the window I saw that the streets below the hotel were empty.

Heart pounding, I opened the door and stepped onto the balcony. It was cold and I could see my breath in the early morning air. I felt the feeble warmth of the sun on my face and smiled, feeling an incredible sense of unreality.

Not wanting anyone to see me, I went back into the room and shut the door, but left the curtains open, allowing the weak winter light to pour into the room.

How long had it been since I had been aboveground in the daytime? I could not even remember the last time. The day at the graveyard in Perros had been in the early evening, as the sun set. This was morning, a time of day that I had not seen outside in years. I could be quite happy in the light, I thought, with my Christine at my side.

Thinking of her brought a sharp pain in my chest. How I missed her already and it had not even been a day! But she had been my entire world for so long. I knew she was quite safe with Charles and his wife, but still I missed her so.

The next days went by slowly. Without Christine and without my music I was like a caged tiger, pacing the room in boredom and frustration.

From my room I watched the bustling marketplace on the street below the hotel. I watched as people hurried from place to place. Every night I donned my cloak, mask and hat and walked the empty streets, growing more and more nervous with every passing day.

Saturday finally arrived, a crisp sunny morning that promised to be a beautiful day. Charles had sent word that a carriage would arrive at the hotel to pick me up at eleven thirty to take me to the chapel.

I dressed carefully in my best tuxedo, the crisp white dress shirt a bold contrast to the black of the vest and coat. My hands shook as I put the mask on. I stood before the tall mirror as I slipped on my best black cloak and hat.

The carriage would arrive any moment, so I gathered up my belongings and walked down to the street, trying to calm my racing heart. It was all I could do to force myself out of the building and into the street in broad daylight. People glanced my way. Fighting the panic that threatened to overwhelm me, I kept my head down. But no one paid me more than a moments notice, too caught up in their own lives and destinations to worry about me.

A black carriage pulled to a stop before me and the driver helped me with my bags.

I stepped into the carriage, nervousness and excitement battling within me as the carriage lurched forward, heading to the chapel.