Disclaimer: not mine…

Many of you have questions as per whether this will be a E/C…you tell me after this chapter…

Phantom with his shirt off… drools uncontrollably

A Face In the Mirror

Christine took her time changing. She had placed the rose the Phantom left for her in her pillow yet again.

The commotion outside her room had died down greatly, to the point where she heard the tiny pitter-patter of mice in the walls.

The candles around her created a soft glow as she sat on her bed and played with that mysterious black ribbon, her thoughts turned to him.

"Christine," a soft voice said. A cold breeze of air swept over her, a face in the mirror called to her. Christine looked in the mirror, and she saw him.

From behind the mirror, he saw the look of fright on her face. "Christine, please." He pleaded. "Do not fear. I will not harm you anymore." His eyes cried a chance to talk with her. "Please."

She looked into his eyes. Fatigue and sadness shown through them. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to say you made me happy tonight, but let me coach you again." He stepped through the mirror. "Let me take you under my wing again."

Christine didn't say anything, but stared at him. Her Angel of Music wanted her to sing again. He wanted to hear her sing again…

The soprano slowly got off of her bed and wanted towards him. Upon getting a closer look at him, she saw that he was hurt, dirty and not very happy.

"What happened to you, Phantom?" she asked. The shine that was always in his eyes was dimmed and gone.

"Years of living in sewers, children throwing things at me." He placed a hand over his mask. "I came back here a year ago and slowly brought my life back into order. But everything was gone. I struggled through this, and rebuilt my empire. That's when I heard you sing. Oh, Christine. My music suffers."

"Mother!" a persistent voice called. "Unlock the door, it's Erik."

Christine quickly returned to her Angel. "Tonight, I shall see you, my Angel." She ran a hand down his face, reassuring him. He closed the door as he watched her open the door.

The Phantom watched from behind the mirror as a young boy burst into the room.

"Mother!" he cried. "You were wonderful. Her son handed her a rose.

Christine bent down. "Erik, I'm so glad you enjoyed the show."

"Yes, Little Lotte. You were wonderful." Raoul walked in and kissed his wife.

From behind the mirror, he turned his head away. He watched painfully as mother, father and son exited for dinner. He turned around and began his walk back down to his pit of despair. He wanted to so much be with Christine.

Once he was back down, he sat at his piano and ran his fingers over its pearly keys.

The old clock soon rang midnight. He bowed his head and got up. She wasn't coming.

"I am here." A sweet voice said.

The Phantom's eyes widened. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming."

Christine nodded. "Please forgive me, my angel. My son was frightened by the storm."

He motioned for her to sit by the piano. "Have you forgotten everything I taught you?" he asked.

"No, I haven't." she said.

The Phantom struck a chord. "Sing, my Angel of Music."

Christine's voice filled the room as she sang. The Phantom's ears rang with joy at sound of her voice. They sat at the piano, running through scale after scale.

Almost two hours later he stopped. "Wonderful. It needs more work, but I am happy you didn't loose it."

Something else was in the soprano's mind. "Before you said people threw things at you. Please, tell me about your childhood. I am curious." She took his hand.

The Phantom didn't move. "My life, before this opera house, was hell."

"Get up, boy!" his master kicked him.

The bag over his head irritated is face greatly, causing his mutated face to sting and bleed.

He was kicked and whipped again. "Get up, boy! You have a show today!"

The air was pushed out of his lungs as he was whipped again.

"Please, stop!" he cried. Blood poured out from his sides and his nose bled.

"Worthless rat." The master said. He was kicked and whipped again. The boy felt himself being pushed into a cage, a rose being tied around his neck.

"Ah, Punjab." Another man said. Punjab, the young phantom's master smiled. "I see our Devil's Child is still repulsive as always."

Punjab nodded. "Let them in."

A crowd of young girls walked in as the boy lay in his cage, the rope around his neck tightened.

"Come," Punjab taunted. "Come see the Devil's child."

The girls walked in as Punjab went back into the cage and whipped the boy again. He cried out as everyone laughed.

But one girl had a frown on her face and whispered something to him. Once his torture was over with, the girl was the last to leave.

Suddenly, the rope around his neck went loose. Vengeance built up into his eyes as he tossed the rope around Punjab's neck, strangling him to his death.

The girl threw open the door and grabbed his hand. Once they were through the door, the police came in.

"Which way?" one asked.

That was the last he saw of the circus. This young girl was the first to ever show him compassion as she pushed him through a window and down into a room.

He saw her come down the stairs and pull him deeper beneath the opera house.

"Madame Giry." Christine whispered. He nodded.

"She was the only one to ever show me compassion. She hid me beneath this house, which as become my artistic domain. I came alive when I heard you sing."

"So that's why they call it the Punjab Lasso." Christine said. "Clever name."

"I have no regret killing those that I did all those years ago." He said angrily.

He felt her hand on the side of his face. "I understand, Angel. I do."

He looked at the spark in her eyes. The Phantom felt her hand trace the outline of his mask.

"Please, don't." he whispered. He was lost in her touch. Christine moved her hand, respecting his wishes.

"You told me ten years ago that you loved me," she said. "Do you still?"

He nodded. "I always have." He sniffed. "Christine, you have your husband and son to worry about. You have everything you ever wanted."

Christine took his hands. "I don't have everything."

His eyes lit up. "Christine…" he trailed off.

She laughed. "Lets get you cleaned up, you are a mess."

He gave her a weird look. "What do you mean by that?"

Christine led him over to a basin where water sat. "A bath is exactly what will help you feel better."

He raised one eyebrow as Christine took off his shirt and discarded it. He stripped from his pants and sat down in the tub as she got a clean pair pants and a clean white shirt.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked. She returned with a pitcher and some shampoo she found. Soap lay next to the tub.

"You helped me in my time of need, I am helping you." She dumped a pitcher full of water in his head as he jumped.

"Hey!" he protested. "That'd cold."

Christine gave him a hard look. "You sound exactly like my son." She pointed to the basin. "Sit." She commanded.

"Being bossed around by a woman is something the Phantom cannot kill off," he muttered.

Hearing his little comment, Christine dumped another cold pitcher of water on him. He gave her another nasty look as she washed his hair. With another rise, she began to clean his body with the soap.

His sides and chest were sensitive. As she touched the sponge to his side, he flinched. But he soon relaxed into her gentle touch.

Christine traced his horrible past with a gentle finger. Her mind raced with thoughts of what happened.

The tone of his chest made the scars clearly visible.

"Lean your head back." She said. His head fell back onto her chest as he listened to her heart. Her arms went around his body as she cleaned him.

A few minutes later, he was done. Christine held a towel out for him as he stepped out of the basin and dried himself off. He took the clothes that she lay out for him and changed.

She waited by his piano as she scanned the line of pictures he owned. There was one that she recognized from so many years ago. A note was on the back.

Erik my son—

I am sorry to have done this to you. But I am haunted in my dreams. I am so sorry, my son.

Your mother

"Why did you name your son Erik?" the phantom asked.

She turned to him. He was dressed in a loose white shirt with black pants and boots.

"So I could be reminded of someone I love." She walked slowly towards him. "Erik, my Angel, is no longer my Phantom."

He was taken back by her statement. "No one has called me Erik in years time. It sounds so strange to hear it again." He said.

As she approached him, he began to breath harder. She caressed his face again. It was a face she no longer feared. He was lost in her touch as she kissed him. A kiss full of passion and longing.

"Wait," he said. "This is wrong. What about your son and," he shuttered. "That husband of yours."

"They are of no concern now." She whispered. "Help me, Erik. Help me make the music of the night."

No more was said. He kissed her hard; a feeling of joy escaped his locked heart. This was something he wanted. His dream was about to come true. Christine was with him, and him only.

The Phantom and his soprano make their way towards his bed and collapsed onto it, not missing one kiss. As quickly as he was clothed, his shirt was off.

As he kissed her neck, Christine traced the scars of his past over him. The tone of his chest as cut by the scars.

But she didn't care. Christine had the one thing that was denied from her for so long.

Erik pulled the covers over them as they slowly began to undress…

Meanwhile

Another rumble of thunder shattered through the opera house as her son made his way towards his mother's room. He walked in and closed the door behind him.

"Mother?" he whispered. But a light from behind the mirror caught his eye. "What's that?" he asked himself.

Erik walked over to the mirror and pushed it aside, astonished to find a hallway leading from it.

He slowly walked through it and down the spirling staircase. A few minutes later, he came to a lake, but there was nothing to cross it with. Disappointed in finding no way across, he slowly made his way up the staircase, with an opening in the rock caught his eye.

It was indeed big enough for him to fit through it. He crawled through it, his heart racing with excitement. He felt the tunnel go up and level off. A light was soon seen at the end of it.

A small ledge opened up as he got a full view of his place. "Wow." He whispered. Candles were all around and a grand piano sat in it. This place was amazing.

But something caught his eye. There was a bed with two people in it, engaged in something. One had a mask on the right side of his face.

"The Phantom…" he said.

But the other was a young woman, her face he knew all too well…

"Mother?"

ch 4 up soon…