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Keeping her eyes upon the wooden floor of the hospital, Christine coldly muttered an indiscernible greeting to Monsieur Ames and positioned herself away from him. He continued to stare at her, almost seeming to take pleasure in her discomfort.

"I see you are back on your feet now, Mademoiselle. No one shall have to carry you anymore."

Instinctively she looked up and scowled at the wretched man, trying to think of a subtle insult that would not upset Raoul. She wondered briefly what Monsieur Ames had told him about her disappearance that night. The Vicomte sensed a tension between the two and was curious as to why there was such unusual hostility in his fiancée's eyes.

"Perhaps you should leave the two of us alone for a moment, Laurent," he said, not taking his gaze off Christine.

"Of course. I shall wait in the hall." Laurent nodded his head once at her as he left, and she turned away from him. After he was gone, she briskly went and sat down at the end of the bed.

"What was he doing here?" she asked quietly, attempting to not sound angry. She was in no mood to explain to Raoul the details of Laurent's little nightly visit.

Raoul sighed. "Let us say we had quite a dispute several weeks ago about your disappearance. He has apologized, though. I have to say I am not quite even sure what occurred that night." He paused, hoping she would give him some more information on the subject. When Christine said nothing, he continued. "Anyhow, the matter is over, though I shall not be asking any more favors of him. He has given me some details about life in England, though. Should we decide to move there, Laurent could be of use."

"That is...good," she said softly. Christine attempted to brush her anger from her mind and focus on her original purpose for being there. She took a deep breath and began her confession. "Raoul..."

"What is it, Christine?" he asked, unnerved by the strange look in her large brown eyes.

"I need to tell you something." She paused momentarily. "I am afraid that I...do not wish to get married anymore." His blue eyes widened, and he sat up in the bed quickly, nearly making himself dizzy. Christine looked up with concern, hoping he would not hurt himself.

"What? Why not?"

She chewed on her lip and looked down again. "It is difficult to explain, but I have met someone else."

The Vicomte shook his head in disbelief. "But how can that be? You have not even been around anyone these last few weeks! Who is he? I cannot believe this!" There was such an expression of pain upon his face that she could not help but feel horrible guilt.

"His name is Erik, and I met him while I was performing at the opera house. He is a musician among other things. In fact, our love of music is what brought us together." Christine had practiced many ways of portraying her lover as normally as possible.

Raoul continued to stare at her in shock. "Do I even know him?"

She hesitated. "You have seen him from a distance, I suppose. He tends to keep to himself, though. I...I am so very sorry Raoul."

"I cannot believe this, Christine. After everything, it does not make any sense."

"I know," she said with a soft sigh. "And I am sorry. I should have told you sooner. Please understand. Forget me and find someone who deserves you-who will make you happy. All I have done is bring you misery."

He did not respond for a long time, and they sat there in an uncomfortable silence. Finally, he spoke. "I do not understand it, but I will not try to stop you, Christine. But what of the Phantom? Are you safe from him? Surely he will continue to search for you and threaten this other man that you are with as he did me."

Had the situation not been so heartbreakingly serious, she would have burst into hysterical laughter. Instead, her face flushed bright red, and she turned away from him. "Raoul, the Phantom is dead," she said. He started to protest, but she interrupted him. "Let us not talk of it anymore. I am leaving here tomorrow night." He stared at the wall silently. She rose up and kissed him lightly on the corner of his mouth. "Goodbye Raoul. I hope that you heal soon and are able to move on with your life. I really am grateful for all that you have done for me. You truly have been wonderful." With one last look at him, she slowly made her way out of the room.

The Vicomte stared after her for a moment, both extremely hurt and puzzled. Something was not quite right. How could she have not once mentioned this Erik in all of these months? How could she dismiss the Phantom as dead so easily when she now knew that his demise had been nothing but a hoax? And where had she disappeared to that one week?

Within a minute of her departure, Laurent Ames strode back into the room. For a moment, Raoul did not even look up at him, still continuing to stare straight ahead.

"What happened?" his friend asked.

"Laurent," he slowly began. "Are you sure the man who took Christine that night was wearing a white mask over half of his face? You are positive of this?"

"One hundred percent sure. Why do you ask?" Raoul looked at him then, not really trusting the man but also not seeing any other options. If Christine had truly found someone that she loved and was safe, he would let her go. But...something told him that the Phantom still lurked in the shadows of their lives. Before he left his sweetheart's life for good, he had to be sure that she truly was safe.

"I have one last favor to ask of you, Laurent. And I will pay you for it if you wish. Tomorrow night, I want you to follow Christine out of the hospital and tell me where she goes. Do not do anything or hurt anyone. Do not even make yourself noticed. Just come back and tell me where she has gone."

"She has left you, hasn't she? I told you-" he began snidely before Raoul interrupted him.

"Please. I am in no need of your lectures. Will you help me or not?"

Monsieur Ames sighed. "Fine. I shall follow the girl. It may be fun, I suppose. I will, however, take you up on your offer of compensation for the task. Roaming the streets at night is not something I am fond of doing."

"Of course. Thank you," the Vicomte replied quietly. As soon as Monsieur Ames had left, he settled into a troubling sleep.


With her hands shaking slightly and goose bumps lining her cold arms, Christine stared up at the looming Paris Opera House. Her heart beat rapidly and her breath was quick as she carefully made her way up the steps. In the darkness of the evening, all of the various statues that lined the building seemed more threatening than usual, their eyes appearing to watch her every move. The dim light of the city cast eerie shadows around her, causing her to jump every so often. Why on earth was she so nervous? Perhaps she was simply tired from the stress of the last few days.

At six thirty that evening, one day after she had broken her engagement with Raoul, Christine had said farewell to a confused Doctor Murrell and left the hospital by cab. She had wanted it to be fairly late when she arrived so that most of the workers would have already left the opera house.

With a startling creak, she opened the large, wooden door of the building and made her way inside. She was grateful to see that the entryway was brightly lit and that several maids still lingered about, tidying up after the day. Her footsteps echoing emptily against the floor, Christine quickly made her way back to the dressing rooms where Madame Giry would surely be with the younger dancers. With relief, she looked down a corridor and saw the ballet instructor sternly lecturing several of the girls in a corner. "Madame Giry," she softly called, not wanting to be rude but also in a hurry. "Madame Giry!"

She whirled around and the dancers looked up. "Christine!" she exclaimed, her wrinkled eyes widening. Though the other girls came forward to talk to their old friend, Madame Giry firmly motioned for them to stay put. Quickly she came and led Christine to where they could talk privately. "Child, what has happened?"

"Oh Madame! It has been terrible! Raoul was horribly injured, and I had to return to him for a while. I am afraid that in the process, Erik was upset by my decision. And now I do not even know for sure where he is." She embraced the older woman tightly, grateful to have some form of comfort. "Have you heard from him?"

"I have not, I am afraid."

"Oh," Christine sighed in frustration. "I simply wish he would have listened to me!"

"Child, I imagine that he was quite hurt by whatever happened between you. I also doubt that he has been shown much human kindness in his life. His actions are often rash...and there is a danger within him that you must always be aware of."

Christine felt a wave of guilt wash over her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Madame...Raoul told me that you led him into the cellars on the night I disappeared. I am still not very good at navigating my way around down there. Would you take me as far as you can? Please."

The older woman gave her a wary look. "Are you sure that it is wise to go down there by yourself?"

Christine smiled sadly. "He would never hurt me, Madame. I must see him as soon as possible."

"Very well, Christine," she replied with a sigh. "I will be with you in a moment."

Madame Giry had no trouble swiftly leading her down the dark passages. With her ankle still fairly weak, though, it was difficult for Christine to keep up. She had an extremely trying time climbing down the stairs and was grateful to have Madame Giry to lean against for support. Her heart pounded rapidly as she tried to think of exactly what she would say...how she would explain her decision to Erik. What if he truly hated her now? She couldn't bear to think of it.

As she came down the steps, Christine saw to both her delight and her concern that the familiar boat was calmly floating against the shore. The water of the lake lapped softly against the sides of it. She and Madame Giry stared down at the gondola curiously. "Does that mean he is not there?" Christine asked quietly.

"I do not know, my dear. It is likely that he has many ways of getting around, though. There are passages everywhere, and it is rumored that he helped to build the opera house."

"Should I use the boat, then?"

"Unless you wish to swim across, you will have to. I am afraid that I must stop here, though. Good luck and please be careful, Christine."

"Thank you, Madame," she replied, giving her friend a quick hug. Shakily, she slowly climbed into the boat and took up the oar. It took several tries for her to work it properly, and she found herself going in three different directions at once, bumping into the sides of the shore roughly. Finally, she was able to take some control of the heavy stick and move forward. The water splashed against the sides, occasionally soaking her dress. Her arms quickly grew tired from the rowing motion, and she had to stop every so often for a break. How did Erik do this all of the time?

Finally she came up to the large gate and looked through the bars. To her dismay, the labyrinth seemed darker than she remembered it, many of the candles and lanterns extinguished. She shivered slightly in the coolness of the caverns and tried to remember how Erik had opened the gate the last time. Rowing to her left, Christine bent over and placed her hands deep into the icy water, feeling around. After a few seconds, her numbed fingers came to a small metal gear, and she attempted to twist it with all of her might. It took several attempts, but she was finally able to get it turned. With a loud, grating creak, the portcullis slowly opened.

From the moment she rowed through the gate, Christine wondered if she was going about this in completely the wrong way. It was so dark and, except for the steady drip of water in the distance, it was extremely quiet. She shivered as she stood up and unsteadily made her way upon to the shore.

This was not the ethereal labyrinth of her first journey down into the lair, nor was it the sanctuary of her second trek. It was simply a dark house under the earth...completely tangible yet not entirely wholesome. Holding one of the lanterns up, Christine looked around. The light cast unnerving shadows upon the wall, giving the entire cavern an unnatural glow. She saw the organ sitting in its usual place, looming upwards toward the ceiling.

Turning, she saw that the door of the room next to the Louis- Philippe room was firmly shut. Christine had only been in there once when she had first come down. Erik had hesitantly shown it to her, and she had been unnerved by the canopied coffin inside.

With a deep intake of breath, she slowly made her way to the closed door, beginning to have second thoughts. Perhaps she should turn around and wait for him to find her. But no...she would find Erik tonight. Repeatedly she reminded herself that the man who had rescued her lived down here...who had held her...who had tenderly kissed her. Her love lived down here.

Holding the lantern with one hand, she opened the door and looked in at the pitch blackness. It was very possible that he was not even in there. Gazing around, she saw nothing but the dreadful coffin and warily entered the room further. Turning the lantern to the right, though, she suddenly heard movement and let out an audible gasp. Her brown eyes stared in shock toward the origin of the sound.

There he stood, unmasked, his right profile the only side bathed in the light of the lantern. He wore no heavy suit jacket...only a white dress shirt and trousers that greatly emphasized his extremely tall, thin frame. His twisted mouth was fixed in a grimace, and his golden eye gleamed angrily from the dark depths of its right socket. The sparse light of the lantern revealed each shadowed crack and crevice along his marred cheek, illuminating further the already yellowed skin. Glancing down, she saw that the deadly lasso was poised in his right hand, eagerly ready to take its next victim.

In sudden recognition of her, Erik quickly dropped the lasso to the ground, his glare turning to a look of surprise. But not before Christine had already jumped back to the doorway with a soft gasp.