Christine huddled further into her cloak as she rounded the dimly lit street. Her heart was skipping wildly though she willed herself into bravery, alone in the night as she was. The avenue she turned onto was merely a back-trail, and she felt at least comforted by the fact that very few people knew of its existence. As far as she knew, she was the only one who frequented it. Rubbing her tired eyes and dreading the return to her sleepless bed, she avoided the piercing thoughts and churning in her stomach as the evening's events stabbed through her mind.

I will surely say yes tomorrow, when I have rested somewhat and can think. I will say yes. This sickness can be chased away in the morning.

Suddenly, the shadows seemed to come alive around her, and just as a reflective surge of adrenaline coursed through her limbs, urging her into flight, her arm was in something's grasp, pulling her against a hard body. Christine used her stolen breath to attempt a scream, but a black-gloved hand clasped over her mouth as if sensing the action before it came to fruition. As she inhaled sharply, struggling hopelessly against the merciless grip, she was flooded by the scent of mahogany and ink.

"Hello, Christine."

The hold fell away effortlessly as she stumbled away from him, her eyes flashing in anger and residue fear. Erik, no it was the Phantom. The Opera Ghost. The white mask seemed to glow in the darkness, the perfect side of his face pulled into a haughty, aloof expression, his noble chin raised slightly as if he was considering her as he would a composition. But his eyes, oh his eyes, those aurelian eyes could set her skin into flames with how they seared into her. They looked practically inhuman, belonging to some predator with a hint of blood melting on its tongue. Christine had to tear her gaze away, lest terror cause her to tremble before him.

"What are you doing here Erik?" She was surprised by how calm and even her voice was despite the fear inside. No, she could not run. She had to face him as one would a wild animal; she had to hold her ground.

A humourless laugh echoed in the silence as he began to stalk around her, observing her with his terrible stare. She knew that he was lost in his rage, she could see it in his stiffened spine, his purposeful steps. Christine circled slowly on the spot, ensuring she could watch his every move.

"I supposed if my words could not draw answers from you, my actions would." He sneered, growling in contempt. Christine felt herself flush in momentary shame, dropping her head to hide behind her curls. She had handled this all atrociously, but God help her, she was finding it hard to think straight. What would have been the alternative? Tell him of Raoul, watch him bring destruction in a violent fit? She had intended to end her absence with a final goodbye and tell him, she truly had, but now, and after everything…

"I am sorry Erik, I do not know what you…"

"She denies it still! She could be cut open and still, she would deny." He mocked bitterly, his pace increasing so she had to whip her neck to follow him. A fast-moving shadow consuming her.

"What do you want from me?" This time her tone shook, her heart thrumming a frantic rhythm. The tempo quickened, his eyes like golden seas, ready to swallow her.

"I want to know why you have decided to neglect your lessons, to doom your career, to spite your teacher!" Erik's yell rattled inside her head, accusing and sharp with malice. She could feel the air burning as it vibrated around him, creating a shell of hurt and wrath.

"This is not how I wanted to tell you Erik…" A sob was breaking through, and oh God help her, she crumpled in on herself, her shoulders caving in defeat. He stopped to face her. Nothing had softened; indeed, it seemed her tears angered him further from the scowl on that handsome half-canvass.

"Tell me what, Christine? I would believe you could at least provide an explanation to this beast so obviously abhorrent to you."

"No, no you are not." She wept pleadingly, reaching out for him. What had she done? What was she going to do? The frightening darkness in her veins was pulsing at his presence, yearning to be enveloped by him and to never leave. Her mind was shrieking, tearing at her with a smiling Raoul, of the light which filled those long-ago memories when everything made sense. He took a step forward but left her quivering, outstretched hand empty.

"Tell me, Christine. What have I done? What can I do to ease your hatred of me?" Something had slipped into his voice amongst the savageness, something which curled into her heart in its hopefulness.

"Erik…"

"Return to me, my little songbird." His dulcet gentleness now seeped around her, clear and caressing as an angel's. He came closer until she could see nothing but the white shirt covering his chest, his embroidered waistcoat.

"Erik, I-"

"All will be forgiven. I will not be mad any longer, my dear, I promise. Just come back to me and everything will be as it was." His long musician's fingers were fondling a lone curl, his words low and enticing as if they were beckoning her with a honeyed warmth. That powerful swell just beneath her skin was humming, bursting.

No, no, no…

"Erik, please, you must listen." She rasped, suddenly feeling her vision blur and a limpness overtake her. She grasped his lapels desperately and his hands encased hers fervently, circling patterns over her white knuckles as if to soothe her. She felt some of the tension drift from his body as he peered down at her with…adoration. He seemed to become himself again in that caring gaze.

Oh God, forgive me. Forgive me Erik.

"Tell me what is hurting you, dearest Christine. If it is me, if I have done something to offend you, let me make amends, I can make it better, I-"

"I am marrying Raoul."

Her words hung like gunpowder in the air after a fired shot. She gasped heavily, watching him with anguished, glassy eyes. He blinked, dropping her hands as if they were made of lead. His eyes were wide, stunned, and he took a half-step back. Slowly, his chest began to rise and fall more rapidly, quicker, deeper, until his whole body was undulating like a breathing fire. Suddenly, in a growl that grew into a horrible howl, he lunged towards her. Christine closed her eyes and threw her arms up, certain he was going to strike her, but his hand froze above them, trembling. She peeked up at him, and he simply stared wildly into her, shaking from restraint. A flood of explanations then poured from her lips, even as Erik turned his heaving back to her.

"I am sorry I did not tell you Erik, but I stopped coming because I know now that you were right; I cannot be with Raoul and take lessons from you. We exist in different worlds, and you are a man, and I am Raoul's fiancée, and I cannot keep secrets from him as his wife… dear God, I am so sorry Erik." She whimpered, drawing in her arms to stop herself from falling apart completely. His silence only made her sob harder, and oh, why did it hurt so much?

"You…you will not leave me." It was not a question. Christine grew afraid amidst her sorrow, stepping away from him hesitantly.

"Erik-"

"You will not leave me!" He had seized her upper arms so brutally that she cried out. His golden eyes were feral, not belonging to him. Christine felt her throat constrict with terror.

"You will not hurt me. You will not hurt me…" She did not know if she was whispering the assurance to him or herself. He laughed hollowly, dragging her against him and forcing her face up to meet his vicious smile.

"I have killed, the blood of many men stains these hands. Do you I believe I would not kill you?" Erik hatefully purred, his fingers tracing the hollow of her neck, feeling her desperate heartbeat. Christine fought for her courage and met his stare with conviction.

"No. You are not a monster to me, Erik. You are thoughtful, you are kind, I know you are…"

His dark chuckle grew around her, and she shut her eyes against him as he leered over her.

"Such pretty lies, because you will leave me still. To waste away into the darkness, to die in my solitude…"

"Erik, please, it does not mean-"

"It means everything Christine! How can you fail to see that?" He barked, shaking her like a leaf in a gale. Christine felt her anger grow to match her fear, and her hands came up to his chest, bunching in the fabric of his shirt as she fixed him with a scowl.

"What other choice do I have? Raoul can offer me security, can offer me a stable life!"

"Will he let you sing?"

"He says he will!"

"Oh please Christine, the Vicomte will not have an opera tart for a wife!" He let go of her then, roughly and mockingly. Christine staggered backwards, but she did not run.

"Erik, do not be so cruel!"

Just as abruptly, he paced back towards her with a vengeance that reignited her horror, his perfect features twisting into a fearsomeness and ferocity that made her spine cold.

"Cruel? Cruel? You have been the cruel one! I did not know you were capable of such savagery, you ungrateful harlot!"

"I am sorry Erik, oh God I am so sorry…" She wailed, not even caring about the names. Why hadn't she told him after the ball? Why hadn't she given him a reason, a warning before all this? She wanted to embrace him, wanted to atone for her sins in his arms. What had she done…

"What did you think this would do to me? Or did you even think of me while you were pressed up against your precious Vicomte?" His hold mimicked his words, pulling her harshly into him again, growling in her ear. Christine whimpered and struggled, pushing against his commanding figure. It was a distortion of the embrace she had craved, one marked in violence rather than affection. She flung her head back and found her fury, lip trembling.

"I thought…well I thought you could be happy for me! I nearly have the life I lost all those years ago. I know your opinion of Raoul, but I thought that you could at least try to think of someone else's happiness!" Christine snapped, ignoring the steady stream of tears flooding down her cheeks. Erik pushed her away, snarling. He could only see red, his chest was inflamed with a pain he had never felt except for that inflicted on his skin. No, she had marked him on the inside, on the skin of his heart, and he could not think over the blinding white buzzing in his brain, the festering wound in his soul, if he had a soul, if she had saved him, if she could save him, if she would have stayed. And there she was, tears reflecting like glass prisms in the moonlight, and oh, he couldn't feel his pulse in his ears any longer, and he was certain he had died, that he had descended into the inferno, and…

"I cannot! I cannot share in your joy because it itself ends me! You must see how much I cherish you, how I would die for you, how I would rip this loathsome heart out and lay it at your feet for you to beat! And you do, and like a dog I follow you blindly because dear God, Christine I love you. I love you as a man loves a woman, as a husband loves a wife, and I would worship you for as long as I lived if you gave yourself to me. Your presence in my life has made me blessed, and forgive me, I cannot bear to have you taken from me. But no, I am a devil, I am cursed, I am deformed, I am damned. You are an angel, and the worst of it is that I cannot even hate you for not wanting to defile yourself with me."

Silence entombed them, broken only by their ragged breaths. They stared into each other, equally stunned. Christine's eyes shone like the bluest skies, the kind he had never seen. A single tear slipped quietly down to her quivering chin, her lips parted in shock.

Pity. She pities you.

Before she could begin to exist again, he disappeared into the shadows as quickly as he had emerged from them. Christine could think of nothing, merely slumping to her knees, looking at the place he had stood. Everything had gone numb.

All she could do was bury her face in her shaking hands, and weep.