My Dear Journal,

Sometimes things happen that make you reflect on what is really important in life.

Erik practically flew towards the Chagny estate with the daroga struggling to keep up. When he realized he could stall his friend no longer, the Persian suggested they hire a taxi to take them the several miles out of the city.

Erik, however, was unwilling to wait for 'some drunken idiot to whip his tired, old beasts to some reasonable speed' and, in mere moments, had secured two of the finest horses the daroga had ever seen.

"Is that the missing horse from La Profeta?" he asked, horrified, pointing towards the magnificent white stallion the dark, masked man was mounting.

"Are you coming or not?" Erik snapped, already urging his horse forward. "Besides," he added, "If this is the worst thing I do today, you should consider yourself blessed."

The daroga shuddered, but mounted the other horse and followed close behind.

Death is one of those things, and it has the uncanny ability to give you a new perspective.

Raoul was sleeping soundly when he heard a commotion downstairs. He had half expected some sort of disturbance tonight and so he slept with a loaded pistol on his nightstand, much like he did the night he was haunted by the glowing eyes at the foot of his bed.

It turned out to be a useless precaution, as he barely had time to register the noise and pick up his weapon before the door flew open to reveal a terrified manservant with a knife to his throat.

The Persian appeared next in the doorway and sidestepped around the masked phantom and the trembling servant. "Drop the gun, boy." he warned, "Nobody needs to get hurt tonight."

"Watch your tongue, daroga. I do not share your sentiments. It would be my greatest pleasure to tear you limb from limb, vicomte." Erik threatened.

Then, in one motion so fluid that no one, save the phantom, could understand its accomplishment, Erik shoved the hostage away and relieved Raoul of his weapon. In the time it took the Persian to blink twice, Erik was on the bed, his bony hand around the vicomte's pale neck, lifting him slightly off the mattress.

"What have you done with my wife, you miserable wretch? I should kill you in your bed like the worthless coward you are!"

The daroga noticed as the boy's face grew red and his eyes began to roll back. He grabbed onto Erik's arm harshly, trying to shake him out of his murderous trance before he did any real damage.

"Don't do it. Erik, think of Christine! Think of how she looks at you now. Now imagine the look in her eyes when she finds out you killed her friend. That is the way she will look at you for the rest of your life if you do this. Can you bear it? Can you live knowing that, each time she looks at you, she only sees a murderer?"

Erik hesitated for a moment, the daroga's words cutting through the fog of rage that had fallen over his mind.

"No, I couldn't," he said softly, dropping Raoul.

As his mind and vision cleared, he looked with disgust at the young man, still gasping and squirming in his bed, trying to absorb the sudden influx of oxygen.

"You are pathetic," he spat. "Get up, boy, and take me to my wife."

Raoul growled, standing up in a fighting stance. "You'll never see her again, monster. I won't let you have her. You have done enough damage here. When will you learn that she does not want you? She never will! It won't be long, now, until she belongs to herself again--until her mind is clear from your brainwashing. Then she'll get this farce of a marriage annulled and try to forget this nightmare ever happened!"

Erik made to launch himself, once again, at the youth, but the daroga stepped out and stayed his motion.

"M. de Chagny," he warned, "I have helped you many times these past months, but I can no longer protect you if you insist on foolishly bringing danger on yourself. Please, direct us to Christine and we will sort this all out like gentlemen. There is no honor in keeping a man from his wife."

Raoul hesitated for a moment longer, the Persian's words warring his own desire to keep Christine hidden away. However, Erik had had enough talking. He stormed out of the room, muttering something about 'not having time for these games' and went to find Christine himself. The two men quickly followed him out the door into the hallway, but he was no longer in sight.

It had been my intention to talk to Mamma Valerius. As it would turn out, though, she died several days ago. So it's a reasonable assessment to say that the evening did not go as I had intended.

"Mamma?" Christine called out as she let herself into the little flat. Mamma always left the door unlocked, much to Christine's dismay. Christine insisted that it was not safe for an old woman to stay in a house that is not locked up properly, but Mamma always countered, saying that she wanted Christine to be able to visit anytime, even if she couldn't get to the door.

Christine smiled softly. This was just another one of Mamma's quirks that made her love the old woman all the more.

The house was unusually tidy. Mamma Valerius was not a messy person by any means, but there were usually enough teacups and laundry around to give the flat a lived-in feel. Today there was nothing conspicuously out of place, but the house looked emptier than usual.

"Mamma?" she said one more time, making her way to the old woman's room. The evening was still early, surely she had not gone to sleep already.

"Christine? Christine Daae?" a voice called. Christine's smile faded, that was not Mamma.

A rotund old gentleman with grey-sprinkled red hair and a jolly looking mustache strolled out of Prof. Valerius' office.

"Yes…" she said hesitantly.

"Splendid." he answered, though his voice did not sound cheerful, "You are the last person I needed to contact. Oh my. Little Christine, look at how you've grown!"

"Excuse me, do I know you?"

"Ah. I expect not, you were very little when I last saw you. I used to work for the professor; he hired me to keep all his legal affairs in order. I suppose the last time we met was shortly after he passed away."

"Passed away? Sir, what are you doing here? Where is Mamma?"

"Oh dear child," he sighed, shaking his head. His face was built to suit a set of twinkling eyes and a warm grin, but today he had neither and the expression looked strangely out of place. "I am sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but Madame Valerius passed on three days ago."

"She…" Christine had to sit down, she felt like she couldn't breathe. "But… Mamma…"

"I am so sorry… I would have informed you sooner, but was unable to locate your new residence."

"I… Please, sir, do you think you could give me some time alone?"

"Of course. All the paperwork is in order and I will leave it on the table for you to read later. You'll contact me when you are ready to sign them, yes?"

"Yes, I will, sir. Would you mind seeing yourself out? I don't think I can move just yet…"

"Of course, child. Again, I am sorry for your loss." With that, the man retrieved his coat and hat and departed.

Please don't take my emotionless statements as a reflection of my mental state; I really am broken up about this. But as you know, dear journal, this is where I can sort out those addled thoughts that my grief-stricken brain cannot manage to put logical order to.

Raoul and the daroga were already heading down the hall, towards Christine's bedroom, when they heard a roar of frustration. Erik had undoubtedly found Christine's room and all but broke down the door only to find that she was missing. Raoul crossed himself and almost vomited when he saw that the two guards he had stationed outside Christine's door were dead, their necks snapped.

"You idiot," hissed the Persian, "You posted guards outside her door? Why not just post a sign outside the door 'Christine is in this room'?"

Raoul struggled to take deep breaths, the excitement agitating his still weakened health. "I thought they could protect her," he gulped.

The daroga shook his head at the young man's foolishness. "In all your dealings with Erik, what made you think that a couple of armed guards would stand between him and what he has declared to be his? Those to men probably did not even slow him down."

Approaching cautiously, the two men saw a dark shadow, hunched over the bed and breathing heavily, his back facing them.

"What have you done with her?" Erik growled as he sensed Raoul coming through the doorway behind him.

"What do you mean, 'what have I done with her'? She was just here when…" the young man stopped, his eyes growing wide, when he realized that the room was empty.

"Is this some trick of yours, monster?" Raoul sneered, though his face had gone white with worry. "What game are you playing at?"

"I assure you, boy, that this so no game. Now," he said, menacingly fingering the bit of rope peeking out of his sleeve, "I suggest you tell me where I can find my wife. I have spared you for Christine's sake, but I will not ask again. Produce her or I shall happily snap that delicate neck of yours."

"ENOUGH, YOU TWO!" the Persian shouted. Both men stopped briefly, a little shocked to hear the mild-mannered man speak in such an aggressive tone.

"My, my, daroga," Erik smirked, "I didn't know you had it in you,"

"Shut up." he snapped. He grabbed a folded piece of paper off the desk and thrust it in the masked man's face. "If you two could control your tempers for five seconds, you might be able to look around and see the obvious. Erik, with your attention to detail, I expected better."

Erik took the paper from the Persian's hand and looked at it carefully. It was a note addressed to Raoul de Chagny in Christine's perfectly practiced handwriting.

"Always the detective, I see, daroga…" he murmured, unfolding the paper.

My dear Raoul,

I suspect this will be just as hard for you to read as it is for me to write. I appreciate all you've done, but it's time for this to stop. Your persistence has always endeared you to me. Even now, that you insist that I think about my decision clearly and without influence shows me how protective you are, making sure that I am not being forced into anything. The truth of the matter is, though, that I do not need a full night to consider my decision. I have been thinking about it almost constantly since the night I first had to choose between you.

I won't lie; when I first chose Erik, I did it to save you and everyone else in the building that night. But, since then, there have been a lot of changes. You are different, I am different… even Erik is different. I know this is hard to accept, but you must try for all our sakes. I have decided to stay with Erik, not out of fear or guilt or pity, but because it is the right thing to do.

I think you know how I feel about you, Raoul, but I am serious when I say that, from now on, if I have to choose between you and Erik, I will always choose my husband.

Please, I beg you to accept my decision and believe me when I say I am content with my life and my marriage. I wish you all the happiness in the world, Raoul, and I hope that someday you will understand.

I know I promised to stay someplace else tonight, and I think I would be a hypocrite of the worst kind if I went home after going on about the importance of keeping promises. Still, I believe that under the circumstances, I should not stay here. Rest assured that I am safe; I just needed to be somewhere I can be alone with my thoughts and maybe talk to someone in a more neutral position.

Love,

Christine

"Where would Christine go to think in private?" Erik asked, looking up from the note.

"There are several places. Why? What does she say in the letter?" Raoul's voice came out almost as a whine as he reached for the paper that Erik clutched just out of reach.

"Think, man!" he snarled, "And who would she talk to for impartial advice? Does she have any friends?"

"A priest, perhaps?" offered the Persian, "Perhaps she is at the church."

Erik looked at the vicomte as if to ask, is that possible?

Raoul's brow furrowed thoughtfully. "It's possible, I suppose," he mused, "but when we were children, she would always run to her father when she was upset… or Mme. Valerius if he was unavailable. Since the cemetery is too far away…"

"Mamma Valerius." the two men said in unison.

Erik dropped the letter in the younger man's hand and disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared.

The Persian shook his head, it was unnatural to be able to move so fast and still maintain total silence. He thanked Raoul sincerely and promised to send word when they found Christine safe and sound.

"What are you talking about?" the youth snapped incredulously, "I'm going with you!"

"I really don't think that is a good idea, M. de Chagny," he said. His voice was gentle, as always, but there was a finality there that Raoul was slow to argue with.

"Listen," the daroga continued, "I know you want to swoop in and rescue the helpless damsel, but now is not the time for foolish heroics. Even if your health would permit you outside in the cold weather, Erik would surely kill you for following him. Have you not noticed? Christine is safe with Erik… but Erik is only safe with Christine. He has a madness that only she can control. He is a different man when she is with him, I've seen it. Love changes a man. As long as he has her with him… it is as if he has a reason to keep his mind under control… but there is nothing powerful enough to protect you if you keep them apart. Please, M. de Chagny, let them be."

He tapped the note in Raoul's hand. Raoul, shaking with grief and rage, sat on the bed to read it. The daroga gave him a fatherly pat on his shoulder and left the room, wanting to give Raoul some privacy to wrestle with some of his emotions.

He stopped and asked a servant for directions to the home of Mme. Valerius. As he passed down the hallway, his heart broke to hear the young man's sobs echoing through the house.

Youth, he thought sadly. One never quite gets over their first love, do they?

Raoul was young yet, though, and had plenty of time to heal. It hurt now, of that the daroga was certain, but he had his whole life ahead of him and the pain would fade with time.

Erik, however, was a different story entirely. The Persian mounted his horse and sped off down the road, anxious to keep an eye on his friend and make sure nobody did anything foolish.


When I made the decision to leave Raoul's house, never in my mind did I imagine that Mamma would not be at home waiting for me. She has always been there. I barely recall my own mother, but ever since I can remember, Mamma Valerius has always been there for me. She was there when I scraped my knees and didn't want to tell Papa I was climbing trees with the boys. She was there when I first encountered those shocking and unpleasant experiences that signify that a young woman is growing up. She was even there when I first got my heart broken by a boy.

Erik surged through the streets, urging his mount faster and faster like a madman. His mind reeled with unresolved thoughts and conflicting emotions. Between her sudden abandonment and her letter to Raoul, he had been worked up into quite a state of instability.

She left you. You knew she would. It was only a matter of time.

No! No it's not possible! I love her… she knows that I love her… why would she betray me?

Because you are a hideous monster. You could offer her the world and all it would do is horrify and disgust her.

I have offered her the world! I would do anything for Christine!

For all the good it did you… she still left you the first moment she had the chance.

Occasionally, Reason would step forward…

That isn't true. She could have left when you were injured. You could have done nothing to stop her. But she didn't… she stayed and took care of you. She kissed your death's head and bandaged your hideous body.

But Doubt and Self-Loathing quickly overshadowed it…

It was pity and nothing more.

Once you were healed, she ran back into the arms of that wretched boy.

Again, Reason spoke up…

Think of the letter, Erik! She said she chose you! That letter rejected all that Chagny had to offer… she rejected him for you

Lies, all of it! Why should I believe anything that woman says? When has she given me cause to trust her? This is just another clever trick of hers… another manipulation so that Erik will not kill her boy and so that they may escape together.

You don't really mean that, Erik. She had no reason to believe you would read that letter.

ENOUGH! I have heard enough. Her words are meaningless… look at her actions! She left me! She left me…

She left me… Erik began to weep as he thought the phrase over and over. He pushed the horse faster still and suddenly his grief was overcome by white-hot fury.

She left me, but she will learn. I am her husband and she will obey me. There will be no annulment and no doubt in her mind about who she belongs to. Erik will bring her back by force… lock her up--tie her to the bed, if need be, so she will never leave again! Then he will go back and kill that miserable boy. She will hate me… but she will be mine.

And so Erik went to fetch his bride.


Papa was my world, but in those times when a man would just not do, Mamma Valerius was there to fill in the holes.

Christine did not move for several hours. It was all so surreal. Here she was, in the house the Mamma had not left in ages, and Mamma was not here. She would never be here again, either.

Why does everyone I love always leave me?

Her mind suddenly wandered to the one man who promised never to leave her. It was a superficial promise, she realized--who could really make an guarantee like that?--but it soothed her just the same. For some reason, she wanted to believe it also. Even Raoul--foolhardy, passionate Raoul who clearly adored her--would not make such a promise. Perhaps it was just her emotional state, but she truly believed that, if anyone could make such a statement and mean it, it was Erik. He could do anything.

Confronted with the need to be distracted, Christine quickly looked around the room for something to keep her busy. Her eyes fell on the coffee table where all the paperwork regarding Mamma's assets had been laid.

She grabbed the folder and began flipping through its contents when a sealed letter fell out from between the folds. She examined it and saw that it was from Mamma Valerius, written on unattractive floral stationary--Mamma's favorite--and addressed 'My darling little Christine'.

She took the letter up to Mamma's bedroom and curled up in the big bed like she used to when she was a child. Then she began to read.

Dear Christine,

I sense my time on earth is short. Don't cry for me, darling love, for I find myself happier and more hopeful each day. I have missed the Professor terribly; not a day goes by that my heart does not ache to be back in his arms again. To know that I will be with him soon fills me with so much joy that I can barely stand it. When you are in love, you will understand. When you find that person that you are so devoted to that their absence leads you to feel like you are missing a part of yourself, you will understand. I am confident it will happen someday, if it has not already.

After my husband died, I often asked God why I remained here on earth. The answer, I believe, was found in you. When your father also left us, I realized that you and I only had each other. I was determined to see you grow up and become the beautiful, caring young woman I knew you'd be. That day has come. You have become a spectacular young lady, Christine. You are sweet and talented; you have a compassionate and devoted heart, and care for others before yourself. Your father would be as proud of you as I am.

I used to worry about you, but I find that I don't need to anymore. You are courageous in your own right, but you have also found a husband who loves you. Try not to harden your heart so towards the rest of the world. Allow yourself to love and be loved and, above all, allow yourself to be happy.

I love you, my little Christine, and I wish you all the joy and contentment in your life that I have found in mine.

With love,

Mamma

Christine's eyes were streaming with tears by the time she was finished with the letter. She held it gingerly in her hands, rereading it over again. Vaguely she registered a violent opening of the front door. In the back of her mind, she realized it must be Erik. Still, she did not move. Even when he called out her name in that murderously beautiful voice of his, she remained where she was, her eyes refusing to budge from the letter in her hands.

Let him come, her mind thought.

I was moved to tears once again when I found that, even in her passing, Mamma did her best to reach out and help me. Her letter meant a lot to me.

Erik unceremoniously thrust open the door. If it hadn't been unlocked, he would have broken it down. He tore through the room, looking for his wife.

Erik's anger intensified when Christine did not answer his call.

"I know you are in here, Christine." he said in a deceptively beautiful voice. It was as if he had become The Voice once again, as he sent the sound through all corners of the little house, giving the illusion of coming from everywhere at the same time. My voice will find her…

Erik concentrated on listening. Any other man would have been greeted with silence, but Erik's ear had been trained to detect even the most insignificant of noises when he put his mind to it. His extraordinary hearing picked up on a slight hiccup of a sob issuing from one of the bedrooms.

His eyes flashed wickedly as he approached the room in question. The door was already slightly ajar and he opened it to find Christine sitting upon the bed, eyes downcast, with a flowery paper in her trembling hands.

Triumph and anger whipped through him simultaneously at the sight.

"Christine!" he hissed, "What do you think you are doing?"

She said nothing.

"Answer me, damn you! Explain yourself!"

Grabbing her arms, Erik pulled her up harshly. The natural human response to such a violent tug would be to pull back. So, naturally Erik was surprised and confused when she stood up without complaint. Not only didn't she resist his force, she actually closed the remaining space between them herself, resting her head against his chest.

Erik's resolve flickered when he felt her pliant body, willingly nestled against him even in his obvious rage. Something must be very wrong, he realized. Suddenly his own feelings began to melt away, leaving only worry for his wife. He knew he could not stay mad at her when he heard, or rather felt, her breathe three words against him…

"I need you"

As confused as she was, she still always managed to tell me whatever it is I needed to hear--whether I realized it at the time or not.

With love,
Christine