Not a single word was spoken between us during the entire carriage ride back to the opera house, nor as Raoul walked me to my room. Once at my door, I had nodded my thanks to which I received a nod in return before slipping inside the sanctuary of my space.

I now sat at my vanity, staring strongly at my reflection. I'm not sure what I was looking for. I looked the same as I did this afternoon before I had left for the cemetery, with the exception of the added color to my cheeks from being out in the cold.

I lowered my face into my hands, breathing deeply. What a mess today had turned into…

I went to the cemetery in hopes of finding peace, to say goodbye to my father one more time. I'm not naive enough to believe I'll never miss him, but I cannot deny the way his death still consumes me more than it should. He was a great father; the best, even. I know he wouldn't want my years spent mourning him. He would want me to embrace life as eagerly as he did, himself.

Yet instead of finding the peace I longed for, I felt further separated from it. Two of the most important people in my life were at war, quite literally, with one another. I saw it with my own eyes this evening that they were out for blood. The thought of losing either of them, especially to one another, made my heart stutter in protest. If one of them had succeeded in killing the other, would I ever be able to look at them the same?

Then again, the Phantom was the only one with a history of murder.

But Raoul had been the one ready to wield the final blow in the end…

I revisited that moment; the horror I had felt at seeing my angel on the ground, looking up in rage as he anticipated Raoul's final move. Then I imagined Raoul bringing his blade down, but instead of me rushing to protect my angel, I stayed in place and watched as his chest was pierced. A pained gasp left him before he grew still, the snow under him slowly turning a violent red.

Before I could stop myself, another sob tore through me at the images in my head.

"He's safe, it's not real. He's safe." I whispered to myself, not even wanting to imagine life without my angel. A life without hearing his voice, a life without knowing he was nearby.

"Why are you crying, dear child?

Do you dare cry for me?"

My head snapped up and I sang a reply before I could think twice.

"Yes, these tears are for you, my angel

Are you watching as they fall freely?"

I watched as the glass in the dressing mirror slowly pushed outward, my angel now standing in the ornate frame.

My angel, or the Phantom?

My head throbbed at once again trying to figure out the identity of the masked figure now stepping into my room, the soft glow of candlelight behind him. It dawned on me then, the irony of trying to suss out the identity of a masked being.

Even when I dared to unmask him and glimpsed his disfigurement, I felt that I learned very little, if anything, of who or what he actually was.

Phantom or angel?

He stood right in front of me now, staring into my surely red-rimmed eyes. If I hadn't witnessed today's fight with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it took place at all. Not a single hair was out of place on his head, not one wrinkle or snowflake on his clothes.

Slowly, he knelt down so we were at eye level with each other.

"Are you alright?" He asked quietly, intently.

My eyebrows furrowed slightly as I considered his question and found that I didn't know how to answer it. While I was physically fine, my heart and my brain felt like they were engaging in their own relentless duel.

"What are you?" I blurted out instead, too shaken to feel much embarrassment over my forwardness.

His eyebrow on the visible portion of his face quirked up, "You call me Angel of Music."

"Yet others call you the Phantom." I responded.

He stayed silent, his green eyes were intent on my brown. I felt myself falling again, as I had in the cemetery earlier and so many times before. Falling into his green depths until my angel was all that I could see.

I lifted my hand gradually between us, wanting to touch the smooth surface of his mask. He must have guessed my intentions because at my next movement, he jerked his masked side away from my reach. I hesitated before guiding my hand down to his chest, to the place Raoul almost dropped his blade into. His heart.

Gently, I pressed my palm flat onto the surface. Underneath, his chest rose and fell with each even breath he took and even deeper, a strong heartbeat hummed.

It's funny how the smallest of things, the most mundane and ordinary of moments can sometimes be the most revelatory. It was in that moment that I watched his chest move and felt his heartbeat that I realized the obvious truth of his identity. He was not phantom nor angel —

"You are man." I said with wonder as I lifted my eyes to his.

Where is eyes were focused intently before, they burned into mine now. It was as if a long kept secret had just been confessed aloud for the first time.

"Yes, Christine, I am a man." He conceded evenly.

I dropped my eyes back to the hand I still had pressed to him. A breathless laugh left me as my eyes welled up with fresh tears, but this time due to my great joy at finding out that the being who had been my mentor, defender, and ally for so long was flesh and bone.

"Man." I whispered to myself.

"Are you disappointed?" He asked, his voice still even though concern flashed in his eyes.

"No! No, not disappointed. Relieved." I quickly assured him.

"Relieved?" He questioned, his head tilting slightly to the side.

"I couldn't figure out if you were the angel I had known or the phantom everyone said you were. Knowing you are neither, that you're just as alive and human as I am…" Words began to fail me, "It has brought me some of the peace I had been searching for today." I concluded.

The space between us turned unexpectedly intimate; sitting so close together, looking into each other's eyes, my hand on him.

I made to remove my hand, but he quickly covered it with his own, pressing it into his body and keeping it in place.

"You have a name, don't you?" I asked breathlessly. Warmth from his hand buzzed up my arm, thawing me from the chill that still lingered on my skin.

He was silent for so long I didn't think he was going to answer me.

"Erik," He spoke softly, "My name is Erik."