Yet /another/ disclaimer: I /still/ own nothing. Leave me alone.
Now, Raoul de Chagny was a rational man. He had his routine, and he stuck to it. Every night at about eleven o'clock, he was accompanied to bed by Christine, and every morning, he woke to her being next to him at about nine o'clock to begin his daily duties. This night had started out just the same as all the others. But sometime in the duration, dreadfully close to midnight, he awoke from a rather odd dream to find Christine missing. Of course, at first, he tried to rationalize the situation, saying to himself that she had simply gone for a drink of water, or had gone to the bathroom. But within moment, he had checked both of those places, and she was in neither. He then went on to check the rest of the house, in his nervousness, and found no Christine. This was not a good thing. Racing out to the stables, he found one of the hands tending to the horses, even this late at night. He was a bit confused about this, and questioned the man on the whereabouts of his wife. The older male scratched his head in bewilderment.

"Why, monsieur le viscomte, she had me carry her to a friend's home just maybe half an hour ago!" He replied. Raoul's eyes widened at this. /This/ late at night, Christine had gone to a friend's house! No…something was wrong…that couldn't be…

"Ready me a carriage…I need to leave as soon as possible." He said quietly. The stable hand nodded, and began to ready the horses, hitching them to a buggy for Raoul, and leading them out. The viscomte was just coming out of the house, dressed and ready, leaping into the carriage. Before the stable hand could say a word, the horses and buggy clattered off with a crack of the reins. And yet in his hurry, Raoul had forgotten something that may be vital.

His sword was still upstairs in their bedroom, sitting in its usual place by the fireplace.

But more importantly was where he was headed. Where could Christine be at this time of night? Certainly not out visiting…and the man had not indicated that it had been any sort of emergency. If she was out to visit her father's grave, she would have given him some sort of notice, and –

Well, actually, there was one place he was /certain/ she was. And that was his destination. Where was this?

The Opera Populaire.


Erik, as we shall know the phantom by his newly-learned name, looked at Christine oddly.

"What's the matter?" he asked, looking rather puzzled. Christine shook her head.

"I-I've forgotten about Raoul!" She exclaimed in a hush. "he…he…I…" But Erik caught her meaning.

"He doesn't know you are here?" He asked hurriedly. She nodded. He took her hand again, and led her quickly through the mirror, and she followed as quick as him, as though she were running from something to hide. And in all reality, she was. She was running with Erik to hide from Raoul. As they hurried down the steps, Erik questioned her further.

"Christine….why do you seem so eager to get away from him?" He asked, she looked away for a moment.
"He…he has forbidden me to come here…to sing…to speak at all of you….of anything that happened three years ago." She replied quietly. "He wishes to look to the future…to a family, he says…" At the bottom of the steps, Erik froze, hearing this. One question made its way into his head; one that he was hesitant to voice, and did so waveringly.

"Christine…are you….pregnant?" He asked quietly, his voice shaking from slight nervousness. She blanched at this, looking shocked.

"N-No!" She exclaimed. "No! I-I'm not!" She wasn't, and in all truth, she had not allowed herself to become so. She had never slept with Raoul….something in her had seemed reserved, not allowing her to give in to such physical wants. Erik smiled in relief. So she /wasn't/ pregnant. This was a blessing. Here was Christine, returned to him, completely….wait…was she? He wouldn't truly be able to tell if she was unless…goodness….how could he be thinking of bedding her when they were in such a predicament! He shook this thought from his mind, turning his thoughts back to the current situation.

"Come Christine…let us go home…." He said softly, taking her up into his arms in the bridal fashion, and gently setting her into the boat. She blushed a bit at his touch, but smiled up at him as he made this gesture. He smiled down at her, stepping into the watercraft behind her, and as he rowed, he felt certain that this time, Raoul would not find them.

They reached his house in seemingly no time flat, and he again lifted Christine out of the boat, but this time, he kept her in his arms, beginning to quietly sing to her a familiar song, and yet, it was different somehow…

"Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation,

Darkness stirs, and wakes imagination…

Silently the senses abandon their defenses

Helpless to resist the notes I write…

For I compose the music of the night." And as if upon impulse, even while still in his arms, she settled against him, sighing contentedly, and sang,

"Slowly, gently,

Night unfurls its splendour…

Grasp it, sense it,

Tremulous and tender" Hearing this, he set her down, locking his arms around her waist, and joined her in singing,

"Hearing is believing,

Music is deceiving,

Hard as lightning, soft as candlelight…"

"Dare you trust the music of the night?" He sang the question alone, looking down at her almost questioningly. She shut her eyes, leaning against his chest, singing,

"Close your eyes, for your eyes

Will only tell the truth…" And he joined in,

"And the truth isn't what you want to see…

In the dark it is easy to pretend…

That the truth is what it ought to be….

Softly, deftly,

Music shall caress you…." He spun her around in his arms, so that her back was against him, holding her in that same position he had so long ago.

"Hear it,

feel it,

Secretly possess you…

Open up your mind,

Let your fantasies unwind,

In this darkness which you know you cannot fight…

The darkness of the music of the night…" He placed his fingers gently over her eyelids, pressing them down softly.

"Close your eyes,

start a journey through a strange new world,

Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before…

Close your eyes and let music set you free….

Only then can you belong to me…." He caressed her cheek gently, singing the last line alone. They paused, then began together again.

"Floating, falling ,

Sweet intoxication…

Touch me

Trust me

Savor each sensation…

Let the dream begin,

Let your darker side give in

To the power of the music that I write…

The power of the Music of the Night…" She sang alone, a short wordless 'verse' of the song on her own. Then he began alone.

"You alone can make my song take flight…." He turned her around to face him, looking down at her , and placing one hand on her cheek, the other around her waist, he pulled her to him.

"Help me make the Music of the Night…" And with the song having ended, Christine reached up, placing her small hand over his, and taking it to her lips, kissed his palm. He looked a bit surprised at this gesture, but said nothing; only watched as she reached up to caress his mask gently. He tensed slightly, thinking she was going to dislodge it; was going to take it off of him, but she did not. Instead she smiled fondly up at him, and then once again, leaned her head against his chest, wrapping her arms about him, and shutting her eyes. He shut his eyes as well, laying his head on top of hers, inhaling her scent silently, reaching up to stroke her hair.

She could only smile at this, sighing again in a content fashion. She loved him….truly loved him…and she would tell him. Now.

"Erik…" she began, looking up at him. He looked at bit startled at the sound of her voice, but looked at her questioningly.

"Yes Christine?"

"I…..I love you….." His eyes widened then softened, closing halfway as he gazed at her affectionately.

"Oh Christine….my Christine…." He murmured, resting his head atop hers again. They stood like that for what seemed like an eternity, until he straightened up, looking down at her.

"We will need to train your voice again…" she looked up at him curiously. He would be willing to teach her again?
"And I suppose you shall give me lessons?" She asked teasingly. He smiled.

"Only if you allow me to teach." She nodded. It showed through clearly; he wanted to teach her again. She nodded.

"I will allow you." He embraced her tightly.

"You will be a true diva." He whispered softly. "you will light up the stage once the theatre is returned to its glory…" She looked a bit shocked. She hadn't exactly planned on going back to her singing career…just being with him was enough… but she said nothing, only nodded. He took her hand, leading her to a small portion of the 'house' which had been for her, long ago.
"Christine…" He began, looking at her uncertainly, wondering if she would accept this. "This….this is to be your quarters….or…rather…it /was/ to be your quarters…" She smiled, sensing his uncertainty,
"Erik, it's lovely." She replied quietly, smiling up at him gently. But seeing the bed, she yawned. It was close to one o'clock…she needed sleep.


He was quickly nearing the Opera Populaire, and when he did reach it, he was stunned to find the doors open. So….either someone else were still here, or his suspicions were confirmed and it was in fact Christine. Taking a lantern for himself, he lit it silently, and proceeded through the dark place taking utmost care to make as little noise as possible. She was here, he knew it….just /knew/ it….she had to be. This was the only place she would have come. Growling, he cursed the fact that he had not made sure she had fallen asleep next to him, as he usually did.

He had forbidden her to come here….to speak of anything that had happened three years ago…to sing at all….he didn't need those memories, and neither did she. And yet she insisted upon disobeying him! Why! Why bring this stress to him? He questioned her in his mind, stopping and placing a hand to his forehead and shutting his eyes in frustration. But after a moment, he continued on, towards Christine's dressing room, towards the mirror-door. A thought crossed his mind at that time, a thought that he had feared ever coming into his head. There was always the possibility that she was having an affair. Now, it wasn't as if he really thought Christine capable of doing such a thing…it was just that he was afraid of the concept that she may be cavorting around with some other man.

Of course, there was always the fact that he had never fully pulled her heart away from the Opera Populaire.

Part of her was still there, part of her heart was still in the old burnt building. He had her body, and her mind- but did he even have all of that? Had she truly given herself to him, as he had once thought? For the past dew months, he had heard her humming, even singing softly to herself when she thought he wasn't there. At night, she had been talking in her sleep, tossing and turning. If the fact that she was here meant nothing, then those things must count for something…

He reached the small room quickly, and took quick strides through it. Looking around quickly, he strode through the mirror as he had with Madame Giry, and raced down the steps, knowing full well where she was. He could still remember the step that fell through, and avoided it swiftly, running down the rest after it. He reached the small boat dock, and could see torches on the walls all around. Setting down his lantern and throwing down his coat, he took a deep breath, and took to the water, swimming as he had before. He would save Christine again….inevitably if she were down here, the monster had taken her here. If indeed he were still alive, of course. But if it was anything he'd learned, it was not to underestimate this beast, this phantom. And with this situation on his hands, he wasn't about to start. But as he swam further, he began to hear voices….


Author's Note: Another cliffhanger! Hah!