A/N: I would like to thank those of you who take the time to read and
review my stories. I enjoy the feedback and the comments. Please, however,
make sure your reviews are about the story and not your opinions of me as a
person. I have received a review like that and I really didn't appreciate
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Erik's mouth dropped open, unseen by any of the others. "No Christine. We must hurry now." He started walking again and felt Christine's hand slip out of his. "Christine!" he cried. "Christine come here!"
"Where are you Angel?!" Her voice sounded far off and scared.
"Angel? Christine who is that?" Raoul asked.
"Christine keep talking. I'll find you," Erik said.
"I'm here Angel; over here. Please hurry, I don't like the dark," she said barely loud enough to be heard.
Erik sighed in relief when he felt her hand. He grabbed it and pulled her close. "Please Christine, stay close to me," he instructed. "We can drop Raoul off near the managers' office. We'll be there soon."
"Is that alright Raoul?" Christine asked.
"Yes, that's fine," he answered.
"Good," Erik said tersely. A few moments later, Erik stopped. "Here we are."
"I can't see the door," Raoul stated.
"It's right here," Erik said as though he should be able to see it. He placed a hand on the doorknob and opened the door a bit. There were a few candles burning inside and the light shone out into the hall. Erik turned his face quickly away so that Christine would not see his mask.
"Goodbye Christine," Raoul said and kissed Christine's hand. "Might I have the honor of taking you to dinner tonight mademoiselle?"
"I'd be delighted monsieur," Christine replied playfully.
"Very well then, I'll see you at 6," Raoul stated.
"Yes monsieur, I will be waiting," she told him. The door closed with a snap and Erik stood silently, trying to control his anger. He had just heard a man ask Christine, his Christine, his Angel, out to dinner. It was a slap in the face; metaphorically speaking of course. He could never ask Christine out to dinner or to see a show. He could never take her hand and stroll idly down the Parisian streets with her. And, as far as he knew, she thought of him only as the voice, her teacher, her Angel of Music. Dutifully he had come to her each night to further her talents and now, just when he had thought them alone together, another man had the nerve to ask her to dinner right in front of his face.
"Come Christine," he said quietly so as not to let her hear the bitter edge in his voice.
"Is something wrong Angel?" Christine asked, the playful tone still evident in her perfectly trained singer's voice.
"No Christine, why ever would you think that?" Erik replied. She remained silent and took his hand again. Taking long strides, Erik made his way down the hall. Christine had to jog to keep up with him, so fast was his pace. He could tell they were nearing the marble staircase when something he had not expected happened.
Erik's mouth dropped open, unseen by any of the others. "No Christine. We must hurry now." He started walking again and felt Christine's hand slip out of his. "Christine!" he cried. "Christine come here!"
"Where are you Angel?!" Her voice sounded far off and scared.
"Angel? Christine who is that?" Raoul asked.
"Christine keep talking. I'll find you," Erik said.
"I'm here Angel; over here. Please hurry, I don't like the dark," she said barely loud enough to be heard.
Erik sighed in relief when he felt her hand. He grabbed it and pulled her close. "Please Christine, stay close to me," he instructed. "We can drop Raoul off near the managers' office. We'll be there soon."
"Is that alright Raoul?" Christine asked.
"Yes, that's fine," he answered.
"Good," Erik said tersely. A few moments later, Erik stopped. "Here we are."
"I can't see the door," Raoul stated.
"It's right here," Erik said as though he should be able to see it. He placed a hand on the doorknob and opened the door a bit. There were a few candles burning inside and the light shone out into the hall. Erik turned his face quickly away so that Christine would not see his mask.
"Goodbye Christine," Raoul said and kissed Christine's hand. "Might I have the honor of taking you to dinner tonight mademoiselle?"
"I'd be delighted monsieur," Christine replied playfully.
"Very well then, I'll see you at 6," Raoul stated.
"Yes monsieur, I will be waiting," she told him. The door closed with a snap and Erik stood silently, trying to control his anger. He had just heard a man ask Christine, his Christine, his Angel, out to dinner. It was a slap in the face; metaphorically speaking of course. He could never ask Christine out to dinner or to see a show. He could never take her hand and stroll idly down the Parisian streets with her. And, as far as he knew, she thought of him only as the voice, her teacher, her Angel of Music. Dutifully he had come to her each night to further her talents and now, just when he had thought them alone together, another man had the nerve to ask her to dinner right in front of his face.
"Come Christine," he said quietly so as not to let her hear the bitter edge in his voice.
"Is something wrong Angel?" Christine asked, the playful tone still evident in her perfectly trained singer's voice.
"No Christine, why ever would you think that?" Erik replied. She remained silent and took his hand again. Taking long strides, Erik made his way down the hall. Christine had to jog to keep up with him, so fast was his pace. He could tell they were nearing the marble staircase when something he had not expected happened.