Christine was frozen by the voice that she had tried so hard to resist. She knew he was there, somewhere behind her, concealed in one of alcoves. Had he been there when she had come in and she hadn't seen him? Had he watched her all this time without speaking?

An involuntary shudder ran through her as he spoke again, "Why are you here Christine?"

Still she said nothing, unable to bring herself to move or respond. Instead she sat on the floor of the Chapel, feeling his presence engulf her as she heard him approach.

"Christine…Christine…" he sang, his voice hushed in the shadows. I must move, she told herself. I must leave this place at once.

"Wandering child…so lost so helpless…"

Unaware of what she was doing, Christine raised her head to look at him; the figure that was now crouched beside her. He was not as she remembered him in her dreams; he was not as she last saw him, disfigured and grotesque. He was once again that masked angel that had called to her so many times, from the dark.

"Angel, oh speak, what endless longings echo in this whisper," she sang, her voice small and shrill in this desolate place. She lowered her head in embarrassment, frightened that he would be disappointed with what her voice had become.

He reached out to tenderly caress her face, but the spell was broken when she flinched away, revealing her true fear of him.

"Still so frightened of me Christine?" he spoke, his words tainted with bitterness. He turned around to face her, his mask casting a shadow across his features. "After the repulsive face you have seen, you are still so scared of a mask?"

"I came to pray," Christine began, for the first time moving to stand. "I came to pray for my father."

"There must be a thousand Chapels in Paris…why this one? Do you believe in what you say? Is this the true reason you returned?"

"I cannot say for sure…I do not know the reason. I was walking and then I was here. I was too far gone to turn back…I had…" She stopped, meeting his eyes for the first time since he had made himself known to her. "…Past the point of no return."

It was now that the Phantom lost his temper, flying past Christine in his uncontrollable rage to push over the candelabra. It crashed to the floor, but not before the Phantom had caught hold of the candle that Christine had lit for her father. She watched in horror as he extinguished the flame with his thumb, pressing down on it hard and wincing as he did so.

"This pain…this pain…" he began, dropping the candle to the floor and extending his hand for her to see. "…Is nothing! I feel no pain. I am numb to the world because of you, Christine Daae…I feel nothing. You do not sing and I do not play…its over." He composed himself gradually, struggling for breath, seeing her fear yet struggling to remain indifferent to it. "Your presence tortures me…you must leave!"

Christine nodded and turned, only to stop in her steps. She twisted round, watching the Phantom gaze out of the glass longingly and into the dying light of day.

"Every night I think of mist…swirling mist upon a vast glassy lake…" She stopped; cutting off the tune as it still wavered in the air. His head snapped round to look at her, his eyes so full of anguish and despair. Choking back the tears that threatened to surface, Christine said, "I am sorry to have come back. I never will again."

She rushed out; out of the Chapel, out of the Opera Populaire: not wanting to see if the Phantom would follow. What a fool she had been to have gone back there, expecting that he would have left! After all, where else could he go? He would be forever there, caged by the things he had done in his past; just as she was a prisoner of her memories, doomed forever to remember what had passed between them, and to wonder what could have been.

Without thinking, she strode forward, crashing into a gentleman who was walking swiftly in the opposite direction.

"My god Christine, what are you doing here?" It was Raoul. She could feel herself tremble as she struggled to come up with a plausible excuse. It was hopeless; there was none. She would have to tell Raoul the truth.

"I was walking and something lead me here. It wasn't deliberate…I hadn't planned…my feet just took me here."

Raoul saw the fear and pain in her eyes and he knew that she had seen him. He knew that she had spoken to the Phantom.

He said nothing as they walked back, nor when they climbed the stairs to change for dinner. Whilst dressing Raoul cursed himself for leaving her, she still wasn't well. Ever since the night of the disaster Christine had been unwell; unable to sleep, becoming feverish without cause. He had once found her wandering outside in the gardens in the middle of a violent storm, without shoes or cloak. He had hid this from the servants, knowing what suspicions it would raise. Yet now, as he watched her slowly raise her fork and eat; her mind always somewhere else he realised that this wasn't normal…this could not continue.

"Little Lottie let her mind wander," he remarked, calling back the memory of there childhood together. She looked at him and smiled affectionately, her heart warming instantly with the sound of his pet name for her.

"Christine I've been thinking about our trip to the country. I think it will do you good to get away from Paris for a while, to take your mind off things."

Unable to bear the way that Raoul would not ask what he so desperately wanted to know, Christine cleared her throat before speaking, "I saw him today." She watched him lower his glass, the smile vanishing from his lips, before she continued, "I knew you would not ask me. I went to the Chapel to light a candle for my father, and he was there. He had been there…watching me."

Raoul's blood ran cold as he pictured the scene in his mind. He could hardly hear Christine as she earnestly continued, "He didn't hurt me Raoul. He didn't make me stay. He told me to leave him…I've destroyed him."

"Don't ever think like that. You mustn't think like that, do you hear me Christine? He drove himself mad. He has orchestrated his own destruction. You were part of it, yes, but you were not the cause."

"I was the cause…I know it and it torments me. I cannot bare the thought that I caused pain in such a man. I cannot live with myself knowing that I betrayed him…deceived him."

"If you let yourself believe this you will become as damned as him!" Raoul said, rising to his feet and walking swiftly to her. He gathered her in his arms, letting her feel them surround and enfold her. "Let me save you from your solitude," he whispered his voice full of love.

She pulled away and kissed him softly, hoping to convince herself more than to reassure him. It seemed to work. He was happier when he left the room, leaving Christine alone to finish eating. But she could not eat food which had no taste, just as she couldn't admire the flowers that were placed around her rooms. Everything she touched or tasted seemed just a mirror mockery of what it truly was. She walked over to the pianoforte that had been one of Raoul's first gifts to her and pressed the keys wistfully; the notes seemed shallow and empty.

"But his voice filled my spirit with a strange, sweet sound…In the night there was music in my mind…" Her voice, for the first time in months rang out sweet and clear, penetrating the silence that had filled the room. An answer to her voice echoed, sharp and dark from deep inside her;

"Let your soul take you where you long to be…"

Christine closed her eyes and felt giddy as she realised that that is what had happened today. Her soul had guided her back to the Opera Populaire; back to the Phantom and his music. Her soul was driving her towards him, but her mind was holding her back. But where would her heart take her?