Disclaimer: POTO is obviously not mine. If it were, Erik would get Christine.

Sigh.

Oh, and as promised (well, to myself at least), I bring Erik into the story! Hooray for The bestest phantom ever! (We'll just not mention he's the only POTO…) Anyway, in this chapter Christine runs about a bit, and eventually you will get your Erik. And I lost chapter title creativity so I just used the song I was listening to at the moment. It's sad. Oh well. On with the show! Or story. Phic. Just whatever I'll get on with it.

Enjoy!

Fading Light

Chapter Two - Think of Me

The light behind her was quickly put out by the maid, completely covering her in darkness. The full moon didn't help her blend in with the shadows as much as she would have liked it to, but the pale dress refused to be influenced by the surrounding black. It was only when she was under the cover of trees and in the shade of the not-so-think trees that she began to not stand out as much. The trees seemed to be in her favor and had not lost but a quarter of their fire-colored leaves., permitting only small rays of moonlight to break through their screen.

Christine wondered how far it was to the town, not to mention to the Opera Populaire, and how far she could make it this first night in her current condition. Her arm and shoulder ached from the fierce bruises, her back sore from the collision with the wall, her neck tense from the snap, her right knee and ankle aching from the fall to the hard floor.

In other words, everything hurt. A sharp pain had developed in Christine's ankle, causing her to run (or something like that) with irregular steps. This put extra pressure on the already pained knee when the leg struck the ground with more force than usual, and only further increased her limp. It didn't help that she was carrying a fifteen or so pound bag.

Nevertheless, Christine traveled on until her body simply would not obey her and her legs gave out, and she fell to the cold and wet ground with a thud. She was already breathing heavily from the exercise she was obviously not used to, so when the breath was forced from her lungs she felt as if she were drowning and began to choke into the leaves.

After a few moment, though it seemed much longer to Christine, the air returned and she drank in the oxygen as if droning her sorrows with liquor. Once she had regained control over her body somewhat, she used all her strength to remove the bag and roll onto her back.

Her back hurt, a lot. Christine closed and squinched up her eyes, and clenched her jaw. She didn't know what type of persons would be on the road at this hour, which she didn't really know, but she wasn't risking being found. So she grimaced and tried to bear it, though she couldn't prevent little whimpers from escaping as she sat up and leaned against a tree trunk.

Christine instantly regretted sleeping in that position and not stretching her muscles after her great run the next morning. When the sun arose and woke her, Christine found she couldn't. She decided it didn't much matter anyway, she could reach her bag for a light breakfast, then travel a ways from the road to a safe place to rest until nightfall. She vowed that this time, she would pace herself and take better care of her body. It took Christine almost an hour to stand up.

When she did, and finally managed to put her legs back into working order and got her brain to function properly, Christine found a small area where the ground stopped and switched to a much lower level. Climbing down the small drop-off, and leaning against the dirt wall, she tended to her injuries and slept a deep and dreamless sleep.

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Christine opened her eyes as sleep began to drift out of her to see the sun in the brilliant pink, purple, and blue painted sky. It took her a while to realize that it was indeed the sunset she was admiring, not the sunrise she had seen before her… supposed nap. Christine hadn't meant to sleep for almost twelve hours, just the minimum eight, so she could continue her hike through the woods.

Oh well. I can't travel in broad daylight, so I really could only have continued an hour or so ago. I haven't lost too much time. She sighed. Best not to waste more though, it's only a matter of time until they realize I'm gone. Christine's face put on a sad expression as she thought. Oh dear, they probably already have!

With that, she decided that it really was the time to go. Christine collected her things and walked slightly nearer to the road. Not so close as to be easily seen, but not so far as to not see the road and get lost.

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Raoul opened his eyes, but quickly and tightly shut them when the sunlight blasted them with its brightness. With a groan, he shoved the comforter and sheets off himself, irritated that it was the time to get up, and sat up on the edge of the king-size bed. Remembering the past night's events, he turned to look at his wife and began to think of various apologies he could make and excuses for his violent behavior.

Yet all thoughts of being forgiven flew from his mind as he realized that something was wrong. Raoul frowned and turned back around sharply, scanning the room for any explanation of this foreign situation to end his confusion. But he found none. His anger immediately became his prime emotion as he stood up and stomped to the door with the sole purpose of solving this unexpected mystery.

Christine wasn't there.

Every morning he would wake and she would be sleeping beside him, and remain there for some time until freshening up and joining him just before breakfast in the dining room. They usually ate without much conversation, only small comments and casual questions broke the awkward silence.

This now broken, unofficial tradition was waking him up more every moment, even more so than his morning coffee. Reasonable explanations such as an early rise to accomplish more during that day or help with breakfast were not present in his thoughts, which he soon voiced aloud.

As Raoul descended the stairs he searched the foyer for any person he might ask to find Christine's whereabouts. Upon reaching the dining room, he found the one person who might give him the answers he needed.

"Rosa, where the hell is my wife?!" He shouted at her, and slowly advanced. But she held her ground and frowned at him, clearly disapproving his behavior.

"I don't know, Monsieur, though if I did, I don't know if I would tell you." It was the truth, she really hadn't a clue to where Christine was, just that she was heading for town. "Oh, and one more thing. Based upon the events taking place in this household I have decided that I do not want to be surrounded by this atmosphere." Raoul looked at her skeptically, confused at the normally reserved and timid woman's words.

"I would not speak in such a tone and with such words if I were you, and if I wished to keep my job," he replied with a toneless voice.

"That's just the thing. You see, I can't stand it anymore here. I quit. I was just gathering the last of my things, see, like my slippers that I came across at the last second. Thought I'd lost them. But now that I have all my personal belongings, I will leave in the carriage I summoned quite some time ago. Goodbye."

Raoul was too shocked to protest. It was only after she had left that he remembered what he was doing and began to think of ways to find out where his wife was. Surely some of his contacts could point him in the right direction…

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It was truly night now, and Christine instantly regretted falling asleep and not planning ahead. She should have tended to her ankle and knee longer and worked more efficiently. She should have let it heal for a few hours. She should have left as soon as she was able. She should have moved it around to help speed healing. She should have stretched. She should have done a lot of things.

Christine's joints felt better, if only a little. But her muscles were unbelievingly sore and the stiffness prevented her from doing anything but a slow walk. At this rate, it'll take me a week to get to town! Maybe even two! The thought was depressing, but at least tonight was a full moon. But that meant that in two weeks there would be no moonlight at all! She would have to get as far as possible-each day she would have less and less light to travel by.

Thinking like this was doing nothing for her but eat away at what little resolve she had, which she couldn't afford to lose. Not now. Not when she had just left her prison and become free! But she still had a long way to go. Christine picked up the bottom of her dress, and forced her legs to walk faster. It was all she could manage, but it would have to suffice for now.

Soon after she had quickened her pace, Christine heard a noise coming from behind her on the road. Both terrified and curious, she gave into her curiosity and moved swiftly and quietly (as much as she was able) closer to the road and crouched behind a tree. Christine didn't have the eyes of a hawk, but the carriage was moving at a medium speed and she could soon tell that it was occupied by two women. There may have been more, but she could hear their loud voices laughing at some obviously hilarious joke.

Surely they weren't searching for her, or even knew who she was. Most likely they were heading home after a late night out. Out where? she thought. But it didn't matter. They were going her direction and at a much greater speed. Christine had to take the risk. I could be the deciding factor between freedom and capture. She scrambled to her feet, ignoring the aching pain arising in her body, and staggered into the road.

The coachman saw something move in front of his vehicle, and quickly stopped the two horses pulling it. With further observation he determined it was a person. A person, though, out at this hour? It seemed unlikely, but he wasn't mistaken. Stepping down from his seat, he walked to the window and told the two women, for indeed it was only the two, that he had stopped for a reason and would be back shortly.

The driver then proceeded to investigate this unexpected obstacle. He went over to it, and as he became closer he discovered that not only was it a person, but a woman, and a battered one indeed. Concern swept over him as he went to her slouching body. "Excuse me, Mademoiselle? What, why-oh, my. Are you alright?"

Christine had no strength left, and could only respond with a faint "unnngh" before she gave in to her exhaustion and collapsed to her knees. She managed to whisper out a bit more, and it was only because the coachman had bent down to steady her with his hands lightly on her shoulders that he heard. "Please… help… can I… carriage?"

He didn't know what to do. But he knew that he couldn't just leave her there in such a state. He turned around to look back at the carriage for a moment, and one of his hands slipped down her shoulder and onto her upper arm. The coachman turned his attention back to her as she let out a small yelp from the contact on her injury where Raoul had yanked her to her feet with great force.

"Oh, my. Well let's get you up. Come along now, can't have you out alone like this. I'm sure the ladies will understand…"

"Jacques! Jacques, what's going on out there?" The older of the two women peeked out the side window and saw Jacques returning to the carriage… with… what was that??? He was half-carrying some-it had to be a person-someone towards them. She looked closer and found it to be a young woman, dirty and quite obviously in need of rest, but otherwise very pretty. The woman then realized what a horrid condition this stray woman was in when Jacques brought her up to the window.

"Madame, it's this woman. She was right in the middle of the road just now… I-I really can't just leave her here… would you mind if I-"

"Oh, my word! Quickly! Get her inside before she faints! The poor thing, good heavens!" The old woman was obviously worried about the stranger, and kindly helped her inside the vehicle as Jacques returned to the front and urged the horses on. Christine was finally able to give up all efforts of staying awake and as soon as she was seated, next to the younger woman (though she couldn't tell who was what and so on until much later), she fell asleep straight away, and didn't wake until they had arrived at their destination, the ladies' home.

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Christine could hardly recall the blurred period from when she stopped the carriage to when she awoke in a strange bed. She was told later how she was taken inside the house and fell back asleep before she could answer any of the many questions her helpers had. During her three-day stay, Christine was cleaned up injury-wise and had almost completely healed (save the bruises), given new clothes, fed, bathed, and in general physically renewed.

She told the two women-the only people she mat in the house-that she was simply leaving her husband because of an unstable marriage, and her coach had become damaged and unable to work, and she began to walk in one direction while her driver the other. Christine couldn't tell if they believed all this, or the claim that she was going to town just to get a carriage to take her to her aunt's, but they didn't push for details.

With fresh supplies and a refreshed body, Christine set out to continue her journey in a coach that the two kind souls had hired for her. Her new dress wasn't the most expensive or fancy thing she'd ever worn, but the pale blue fabric was a nice fit that wasn't very lacey and lacked the multitudes of ruffled she disliked. The dress complemented her figure without being too immodest, with a round boat-neck that revealed some shoulder and her collarbone, but no bruises. The one adorning her face was still there, it had been so serious that even now it looked remotely fresh. But still she was able to hide it within the shade of her lovely hair, and no one could tell there was anything there at all.

So Christine bid them farewell, and promised that someday she would repay them for the kindness, even though they insisted they were happy just to help her.

Christine had no idea on Raoul's progress in his search, or even if he had started one. She had no evidence to help her decide of the importance of a quick pace. So she simply took the carriage to the nearest town, stocked up on supplies, listened for rumors about her situation, and prepared to leave for her final destination-the Opera House.

All she was able to learn was that many knew of her strange disappearance, but no reasons had surfaced yet. Christine was amazed that no one recognized her-or that they had but didn't point it out. Perhaps her luck was finally going to improve. She only hoped fate would be so kind to her a bit longer. Christine decided she would enjoy lazing about for another hour or so, then call a carriage and head to the Opera under the veil of the night. Little did she know what was headed her way.

Or perhaps… who was heading her way.

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It is said that some arrogant people who refuse to consider any view but their own see things in black and white. The expression left the in-between shades of grey to the thinkers and the wise.

But it is by all means simply an expression, and no doubt that most people can see the many vibrant colors scattered across their vision quite clearly. But as far as decisiveness goes, during the night, his mind thought only in the two contrasting colors. The color that covered everything and extended the shadows was black-which was really not one color at all, but all of them combined. Its opposite was also not actually a color, but the absence of it.

This lack of color, however, this brilliant white, could only be found in two places during this late hour. The sky, sprinkled with the many lights that were stars and the great globe reflecting the light of the hidden sun was one. The other was only seen by the moon's stolen light when it shone upon the smooth and reflective surface of the mask, when it was only illuminated for a brief second whenever the hood on his black cloak slipped away.

But the dark was his friend, or at least his only consistent one. It was only after most of Paris had gone to bed that he was able to roam the streets freely without being overly cautious. Sometimes he would visit the local market and purchase some fresh fruits or vegetables just before it closed near midnight. Because of the large sums of money he paid at the stands, no merchant ever questioned his appearance, identity, or mysterious demeanor. His choice to pay more than necessary for the goods got his message across to them clearly-not to meddle in his affairs.

For he, most certainly was not a man to be meddled with. No sensible man would attempt to stir his anger , and those who were not sensible enough to mess with a man of his build and his cold attitude were often not heard from again. He was feared, a danger to any that crossed him. And none dared to. Death would be their punishment. From his appearance at night he could have been death itself, perhaps the grim reaper.

A shadow. A menace. Death looming in the darkness. A monster.

And his name was Nadir.

(Ha just kidding! Hahaha! XD Did I get you? I hope a chuckle at least. It was all dark and spooky, so I had to lighten it up a bit. Just cut out the two above lines for the actual parts in the chapter. HA I'm soooo high on sugar and it's like 1am so pwease don't laugh at me. Whoo I'm ok now. Here we go. Heehee.)

But he was not so shallow and cruel and to strike or harm a woman. He simply ignored any that irritated him and left if necessary.

Few cases of such encounters arose because of his excursions limited to nighttime. He mostly came out of his home to get fresh air and move his body about. It wouldn't do to stay cooped up in the lair forever. Though he could not deny to himself that he had done just that for over a year after that night.

He thought about simply ending his ghostly ways and leaving the Opera House alone, no longer making threats and the likes. But after a while of pretending The Opera Ghost was gone for good, he found himself missing it despite the memories attached. So once again the Phantom of the Opera came alive, and continued to criticize the lack of talent and organization there, and of course not forgetting to remind the ignorant managers of his ownership of box five and the expected salary.

Yes, they were greatly discouraged. And he found it quite amusing indeed.

He also found it amusing, or rather odd, that no one had stayed in her dressing room since she had left.

But all these musings were put back into reserve for when he was bored and needed to entertain his mind when the sound of wooden wheels on stone reached his ears. He moved to the side with grace as it rolled past him, and suddenly felt an extremely strong sense of déjà vu. His instincts were telling him that what he wanted to believe was true, but his mind shoved them away with doubt. Nevertheless, he hastily made his way back to the Opera Populaire as he recalled a strange illusion he had witnessed earlier that day.

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Erik had been out just a few hours ago, as the sun was setting, just to people watch. It had become an odd habit, not so much a hobby, of his. He would stand under the shadows of trees and simply observe the people interacting with each other and going about their business as they pleased. Usually it was just a way to pass the time, for there wasn't much Erik had for entertainment these days.

But it was different that day. It was different in that as he was turning to leave and go back to his home, something flashy caught his eye some ways away. A pale, light blue that stood out among the plain browns and greys of the other ordinary clothing in the crowd. The sharp contrast grabbed his attention, and with a closer look he determined it was a dress. From the distance and the bad light he could barely make out the wearer, but he could tell it was a small woman, petite, even.

It only took moments for him to realize how familiar the silhouette was. Oh, how could he ever forget the figure that plagued his thoughts night and day from the moment his eyes fell upon it? Never would he not know by heart the color, shape, and softness of that cascading hair down her pale back, and across her slender and elegant shoulders. He had touched them, once. He had been so very close to her. And now he saw her. Right in front of him. The body almost glowed against the ordinary colors surrounding it.

And in an instant she was gone. The light went out, and all was muddy colored and dull again. It was like a wisp of mist had swept through and played with his mind. But his long-lasting, not-forgotten fantasies would not allow him to let the image slip away. So without thinking, he lurched out of the dark and into the crowd.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of the end of the day clean up and last-second shopping, no one stopped to look at him or stare. Erik pushed and shoved through the already pushy masses, his eyes darting across the heads below him. But even though he towered over the people and had a wide range of vision and good eyes, he just could not find the piece of heaven he had witnessed just moments ago.

And though somehow he knew it wasn't real, nothing stopped the fleeting feeling of loss from overwhelming him and the sense that his dreams were once again slipping through his fingers from coming. It was a draining feeling, as if part of him was, yet again, being sucked away and leaving him empty in places. Mostly, it was his heart.

Erik decided it would do him good to take a short nap, and he headed back to the Opera. It was probably a good idea for him to get out more, the dark and wetness of his place must have been what was making him hallucinate. And he did not want to imagine that again. Once was enough to almost kill him, a repeat might finish the job.

That apparition he'd seen, it had given him this strange feeling. It took a while for it to register in his mind that it was the same familiar feeling that he'd had just now. Erik picked up his speed, and forced his thoughts to stop wandering. They would only create false hope, which would only create devastation and wreak havoc upon his heart.

BLEARGH so sorry this took like forever and a day to do. Was sick, and it was bad. But yay Erik's here now! That makes me happy. Hope it makes you happy, too. Feedback's also another happy concept. Review!

Review Responses:

Ceez: Ah, so glad you've kept up with this story! Don't worry, I'll def. Make him p off!

Tactics: Sorry, I did keep you waiting. Oops… heh… hope this makes up for it!

Kaya DC Pandora: Hehe, can you see me not letting Christy get revenge on Raoul? Hope not!

Aries-chica56: Pay, yes, not sure about death thou…

KButler: I'm not patient either, hehe. Go us.

Thanks y'all so much!