Christine paced anxiously at her flat about twenty miles away from the Paris Opera House. She was still trembling from her experience with Erik, and was dreading the play for that night. She wore a white domino, complete with a jeweled mask. Her face was paler than usual, mask dangling on a thin string on her wrist.

"Raoul, oh come on!" she cried suddenly as she peered through the silky curtains for the tenth time.

"Christine, you really must calm down!" Meg said, adjusting her wig. She wore a white gown, complete with feather wings and a golden halo suspended over her head by a thick wire. Her cheeks were flushed at the excitement of the new opera, and seeing her fiancé again.

Christine sighed. No matter how many times she had tried to explain to them, they just didn't seem to get the effect Erik had upon her. Suddenly, her cheeks reddened and she flew out the door into the arms of an astonished black domino.

"Christine!" Raoul cried, trying not to fall down the slick steps.

"What took you so long?" Christine whimpered, her face buried into his costume.

Smoothing her hair in a calming gesture, he kissed her forehead.

"The Count had some last words he wanted with me. He's trying to stop me from doing something foolish."

Christine pulled back, looking in his face anxiously. He laughed, pulled her close as he assured,

"I have no intentions of leaving you! But I just don't understand why you insist on singing for that man!"

Before she could reply, Meg bounded down the stairs, halo swinging dangerously as she spotted her fiancé's carriage.

"Hurry up you two! We'll be late!"

Christine ran down the steps and bounded into the carriage, irritating Raoul that she didn't let him help her in. Meg and Carlos were greeting each other by nuzzling each other's necks, so Christine attempted slight conversation with Raoul as the carriage bumped along the dusky road. However, Raoul's mind was deeply engrossed with other things.

"Christine, are you ready to come away with me tonight?"

He sounded so doubtful that Christine's heart twisted as she put her hand to her heart and whispered passionately,

"Raoul, I give you my word! If I do not leave with you tonight, I shall be lost forever!"

Somewhat satisfied, he placed a kiss on her forehead, relaxing slightly.

Carlotta sat in her parlor, two maids fanning her and a waiter serving her grapes like she was sultan. As was her custom, she was complaining about the managers, Christine and the Phantom. She had been driven away when the Phantom had cruelly made her croak. So now she was just sitting around, complaining to those who would listen.

"That little slut, Christine Daae, slept with the Opera Ghost, got him on her side, trashing my reputation by making me croak!" she wailed, flinging a flabby arm out dramatically.

The maids silently nodded their heads in agreement. Unknown to Carlotta, they had put wads of cotton in their ears so they wouldn't have to hear her. Luckily, Carlotta was predicable as the sun, so they really didn't need to hear her orders.

"I had such a promising career. I promise, that I will return, triumphant, and those managers will be licking the floor I walk on to get me back!" she shouted, spraying grape juice all over the place. Suddenly, a figure appeared from the very floor that had once been solid.

"Piangi! Ublado! Come here! Come here!" Carlotta screamed, curling up into a ball.

"He is busy finding his face at the moment, but will be with shortly," said the black-cloaked figure sinisterly, face hidden.

Carlotta choked on her grape, eyes widening with recognition.

"Get him!" she hissed to the startled servants.

The waiter dropped his plate of grapes, cracked his knuckles and took a step forward. Unfortunate, several of the slippery grapes had scattered in his path, causing him to fall as the Punjab Lasso caught him around the neck. His eyes bulged briefly, before falling back, neck snapping as the figure jerked the rope towards him. The servants screamed and ran, abandoning Carlotta.

"Get back here!" she squeaked, eyes popping with fright.

The figure dragged the motionless body towards him, withdrew a knife, and jabbed it deep into the man's skull. With careful precision, he cut a circle around the face, and then with a sickening rip, he tore the waiter's face off the head.

"This will make a perfect trophy," he said softly, turning to face Carlotta whose visage showed a mixture of terror and repulsion.

"What do you want from me?" she whispered, scrambling out of her chair as he slinked towards her, holding the bloody face of the waiter.

"I want your face," he said matter-of-factly.

Trembling, she backed into the wall, closing her eyes, trying to shield herself from what was about to happen. The last thing she remembered was a thin rope squeeze tightly around her neck briefly saw silver stars and blue spots before loosing consciousness.

Arriving into the bustle of Parisians floundering around, wondering who was this mysterious composer. It was old-news that the composer would show up at the masquerade party. He did after all request it. People of all ages were dressed up in several degrees of creativity. Some choose to be conservative; others radical, covering their entire body with paint in order to portray their character.

"Where is this "Phantom" fellow that everyone is jabbering about?" a jeweled sphinx asked a mummy, blowing smoke lazily towards the ceiling.

"I don't know, but I'm sure that when he does, we will know!" the mummy replied testily, griping a champagne glass tightly, downing the red liquid.

Meanwhile, Christine clung to Raoul, frantically searching for a sign of her tutor. "Christine, you must really try to relax!" Raoul chided her, massaging her tense shoulders.

"I can't Raoul! What if he finds us together again, and thinks the worst!"

Raoul's handsome face lost its gentle tone.

"So this is what it is about? You're ashamed to be seen in public with me!"

He threw her arms away and started to stalk off when Christine, sobbing, threw her arms around his waist, pulling his ear to her mouth.

"You know that isn't true!" she whispered fiercely while struggling to keep him within her grasp, "I fear for your life!"

"What can he do to me?" Raoul mumbled, his anger diminishing.

Christine whimpered, tightening her hold on him. Despite several people were watching the couple curiously; they stayed like that for a while until the dinner bell boomed through the ballroom.

"Ladies and gentlemen," cried Andre, who was dressed as a court jester, "if you would take your seats, dinner will be served!"

Slowly, as the tantalizing smells of dinner wafted under painted noses, the party congregated at assigned tables, talking excitedly about the night's activities.

"He hasn't shown up yet!" Andre whispered excitedly to a tuxedo Firmin.

"Don't drop your guard yet!" Firmin hissed, eyes wandering the sparkling room, "This man is a master of surprises."

"I see that you have found a….spectacular mask," the devil commented, watching as Erik finished sewing the last patch of his new mask.

"It wasn't as hard as I thought…you know, getting the material," Erik commented as he cut the thread.

"There's no way Christine can resist you now."

Erik stood up, straightened his spectacular red cape around his scarlet tuxedo.

"You are ready!"

"Places everyone!"

"Are you sure that you can do this?" Raoul asked, holding Christine's jeweled hands protectively.

"Yes, Raoul," she said resolutely, inhaling sharply as she realized the danger ahead.

"I'll be waiting for you right here at the end," Raoul informed, pressing his fevered lips to her chilly hands.

"Till we met again," she said softly, raising his head.

"Goodbye my love," he whispered silkily pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

Raoul hurried off to his box while Christine took her place, waiting for the curtain to go up.

"Sing for me, Christine."

She jerked her head up, face pale, her blue eyes searching for the face.

"Erik?"

"Hush my dear, and sing for me."

Before she could say anything, the curtain had gone up, and it was time for her entrance.

"Now here's the tale of a man, a lonely man, who dared to love another. Who will survive?" the chorus sang as they twirled around, swirling brightly colored silk around Christine.

"Don Juan? Don Juan?" Christine sang in a high-pitched E, each note vibrating magnificently through the audience.

"What is it, my dear Christine," Erik sang harshly.

There was a deadly hush, the chorus not sure where the real Don Juan was; Raoul and Christine trembling with fear in their respective spots; and the managers, shaking with fury at the imbecile who dared to interrupt the performance.

"Look around you, those who doubted the opera ghost," Erik continued, still unseen.

Loud gasps echoed through the chilly air as the bloody bodies of Carlotta and her servants appeared from the curtains by thin wire, appearing to float in mid air.

"What is going on?" Andre cried, watching in horror as the bodies dangled above the stage, pools of blood collecting on the stage. Some ladies in the audience and on stage started to scream, running out of the theatre.

"Raoul! Raoul!" Christine cried, franticly running around, her costume splattered with metallic red blood.

"Christine!" Raoul cried, racing towards her from the wings, but suddenly was pulled back by an unseen hand.

"Christine," Erik called, coming into view.

"Erik! What is going on?" she demanded, trying to be brave, but her trembling hands gave her away.

"I am claiming what is mine," he said casually, raising his right hand slyly, in which a rope connecting his hand to the Vicotome's neck was.

"No Erik," Christine moaned, hands fluttering to her mouth.

His twisted mouth curling into a wicked grin, he began to sing,

"Shadows, you left me without saying goodbye. In sleep I came to you, in dreams you returned. I am yours, you are mine."

Suddenly there was a flash of red light, blinding the remaining people in the theatre.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!" Raoul cried as Christine was swept into Erik's arms in a funnel of black smoke. His helpless cry was cut short when the rope tightened around his neck, cutting into his skin. Gasping for breath, he tried to loosen the knot that held the rope in place, but he was suddenly lifted into the air, with a sickening crack, his neck broke, and he fell to the ground, dead.

"She is yours….."

"Christine, welcome to your new home, and husband," Erik said as he carried a terrified Christine into his room, "I know that you won't be happy when you wake up, but I promise, once you hear my proposition, you will change your mind."

"What do you want with me?" Christine demanded while trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

Slightly amused he set her down on the couch, grasping her tiny hands in his.

"My dear, I want you."

He didn't hear her gasp; he was too busy kissing her fingers.

"Erik, I," she began, but drew in a breath as she took in his face.

Squinting at her, he realized that this was the first time she had seen him with out his porcelain mask.

"Do you like my face?" he questioned, lifting her trembling hand to caress his haphazardly stitched face.

Christine began to scream as she felt the coarse thread, the different textures of skin.

"Why do you scream at me?" Erik cried, flinging her hands away, "I'm no longer ugly!"

He drew her up and pressed her tightly against his body.

"I am immortal now, and you are mine. If you sign the contract, you will also become immortal."

She began to sob, the tremors hitting Erik like lightning as he realized that she didn't want to be with him.

"I know I haven't been the gentleman, but you don't understand," he cried, kneeling at her feet, "I had to kill those people, I had to give up my soul, I live only for music and you! Don't deny me Christine! I can't bear it!"

And they wept; Christine's were those of fear and Erik's were those of sorrow and anger.

"If you won't willingly come with me, then your last years will be hell," he said finally, wiping away the burning tears, "You sung my song tonight, you cannot escape or marry anyone else. It's your choice; take the easy way: love me, or the hard way: deny me."

Christine flung herself away, her blue eyes flashing angrily.

"And what if I kill myself first!"

She withdrew a lasso, and swung it around her neck.

He laughed,

"Don't be foolish, my dear. You wouldn't have enough time to strangle yourself before I rescued you. You can't expect me just to sit and watch you die!"

He stepped towards her, arms out stretched.

"Get away from me!"

Suddenly, she wasn't feeling scared. A blind fury overtook her as he continued to walk towards her with such ease and calm. Clearly he thought that he would get away with this atrocity.

"Come, come, Christine!" he admonished, the amused look disappearing as she ran towards his organ, "If I have to take that rope off your neck myself, you will regret it!"

"Damn your music!" she hissed.

"What?" he asked, hurt, puzzled, and frightened as she grabbed a candle and held it over the organ.

"You wouldn't dare!" he cried, not sure whether to go near or back away.

"Damn you!" she hissed, and with a careless gesture, she dropped the candle onto the wooden keys.

"NOOOOO!" he cried, running over beating the growing flames.

"You stupid bitch!" Erik screamed as he whirled around to face her, hands clutching.

"You'll never own me!" Christine spat as she withdrew a knife from her bloody dress.

Frozen, he watched as she plunged the knife deep into her chest.

"Christine!" he wailed as he ran to catch her.

It was too late. She was gone. Her blood slowly leaked out of her body.

"Why do you weep, Erik," the devil cackled.

"Where are you?" he whispered, still cradling Christine's body in his arms.

"You are immortal, you idiot, don't you remember?"

A slow smile crept over Erik's face. He carefully picked Christine's body up, walked over to his organ where it still burned. He set her body over the flames and watched as her body began to burn.

"Till we met again," he whispered, kissing her hand one last time.