Hey! Thanks to all who reviewed. I know that the last chapter was not too exciting but sometimes transitions are necessary.

Very early in the morning, when the sun had not even crossed the horizon, Erik departed to complete all remaining work upon the house. It was his wish to get through the more populated areas while it was still dark, keeping his face covered in the shadows of his cloak. By the time that it was daylight, he would be at the secluded house where no one would know of his presence. Christine offered to accompany him, but he told her it would be best if she remained at the inn. A strange man with a covered face was a minor curiosity. A strange man with a covered face and an attractive young girl on his arm was an ill upon society.

So Christine remained there by herself, flipping through her books and planning her future...or at least an ideal version of it. Throughout the day, her gaze fell to the wedding dress that now sat upon a hanger instead of the waxen doll. She imagined herself in the elaborate gown briefly, looking forward to the day when she and Erik would come together in union. Perhaps once she promised her devotion, Erik would allow her to become closer to him...to share the burden of the nightmares that she knew still plagued his sleep.

As the afternoon sun rose high in the sky, she began to feel slightly lonely...miles away from everyone that she knew. It was a vague emptiness that made the heart ache. She wondered if this was how Erik had felt his entire life with no one to touch or talk to. Even in the loneliest hours of her life, after her father had passed away, Christine had always had a caretaker or friend nearby even if only for a quick hug.

Finally, late in the evening, Erik entered the room holding a paper bag. He looked slightly worn from the events of the day but still seemed unfettered by anything that had occurred. She smiled at him from her place in the cushy arm chair where she was curled with a book. "Did everything go well?" she asked softly, placing the novel upon the table.

"Yes," he replied stoically. "We shall leave very early tomorrow morning before the sun has risen. All seems to be safe for the time being." Quietly he removed the cloak from his head and set the bag upon the desk. "I have brought some food to sustain us for several days. It is not much, but it should suffice."

"Thank you," she replied, picking up a bread loaf and several ripe pieces of fruit within her hands. As a look of rare exhaustion crossed his face, Erik sat upon the bed and slowly removed his shoes. Christine picked up her book again, sensing that he was not in the mood for conversation. After writing something down and rummaging about the room, he spoke softly to her again.

"You may continue to read in here if you would like. I am retiring for the night." Without another word, he lay down fully clothed atop the woolen covers of the bed, not moving a muscle as he fell into an uneasy rest. She watched him sleep for a moment, feeling intensely peaceful in his presence.

As her own eyelids became heavy, she stood up and began to make her way to her own room, a melancholy feeling overtaking her as she entered solitude again. Christine stared at the empty place next to Erik. Surely it would not be wrong to simply lie beside him. She felt so isolated and had been alone for the entire day.

Quietly she made her way over and sat down upon the bed, her light frame barely moving the mattress springs. Even more softly, she pulled her legs up onto the structure and laid her head onto the pillow next to him, tucking her cotton nightdress beneath her. Unfortunately, Erik was unused to having anyone near him in sleep. At the slight movement, he jerked around to face her with complete surprise in his eyes. "What are you doing?" he asked.

She froze momentarily, her face flushing. "I did not want to be alone," she stuttered out. "Please." God, what he must think of her childishness now.

There was a long, tense silence, and she could not tell what he was thinking as he gazed upon her. "Fine," he replied, too tired and surprised to argue. After dimming the light in the room to near darkness, he untied the strings of his mask, removed it, and placed his head back upon the pillow.

Her heart calmed slightly as he permitted her to stay, grateful to have someone near her. Though the moral value of chastity lingered in her mind, she told herself that they would be married soon. She was not doing anything anyway. Simply lying beside him in sleep...

Cautiously she glanced up at him and saw that he was still awake, staring up at the ceiling in quiet thought. Suddenly he turned and met her gaze. They stared at each other for a long moment, her brown eyes reflecting the glow of his golden ones. Her breath increased slightly, and she wished for his touch. And she hated feeling so desperate for him, when he seemed so distant.

Closing her eyes, she attempted to drift off, when she felt his arm cautiously come across her tiny shoulders. Startled, she jumped slightly, causing him to begin to draw back. With a slight mutter of protest at his recoil, though, she moved toward him and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, feeling his heart beat against hers. Stunned at first, Erik pulled her against him and leaned his head into her soft curls, taking more comfort in her presence than he would ever allow her to know.

So many prying eyes today...children scrambling into the arms of suspicious parents to seek protection from the looming man draped in a cloak...the walking shadow. His Angel's warmth was something he had never known in the open coffin, in his cold death's sleep. He didn't even know how she could stand to be up against such icy flesh, but perhaps the material of his suit held some heat. Nevertheless, she did not flinch away from him once during the night.

When Christine awoke very early the next morning, she was still within his long arms. The sun had not begun to rise yet, and only a dimly lit lantern provided her with light. With a sigh of contentment, she snuggled in closer to him. Her slight movement awoke him, and she laughed apologetically. "We shall not get any sleep together," she said lightly. Christine blushed as she realized it could have been interpreted differently than she meant it to, but he did not seem to notice.

He looked down at her quietly in the dark, and she was staring up at his face with nothing less than love. Grabbing her out of some instinct he had learned to repress even before he had seen the harems of Persia, Erik kissed her passionately and deeply. Drawing back to see if she would be upset with such forwardness, he looked at her expression and saw nothing but delight and wanting. Slowly he kissed her again, more slowly, rubbing his lips gently against hers. She eagerly returned it.

After a moment, he left her lips and began to kiss along her slender neck and throat, praying his instinct was not somehow flawed. She murmured his name in a way he had never heard it said before, like a plea, and reclined back onto the pillow in bliss. He followed her head down, continuing to kiss her, and she grabbed onto his shoulders to pull him closer.

As he placed his lips upon her, she absentmindedly undid several buttons of his linen shirt, revealing his smooth chest. Softly she touched the pale flesh, and his golden eyes widened a moment, surprised by the sudden sensation. Slowly she came up from beneath him and kissed along his jaw line as he closed his eyes and ran his hands through her soft curls. She moved down his neck and lightly brushed her lips against his chest to which he moaned slightly in pleasure, glad it was still too dark for her to see his various scars.

With a crimson blush, Christine moved her nightdress down her shoulders slightly, giving him more access. Eyes wide, he stroked the heaving area right below her neck with his slender fingers, marveling at its softness, but did not venture any lower. Coming back up, he met her lips again, and she moaned softly into his mouth, never wanting his touch to cease.

With a sigh, though, he ended the kiss and wrapped her within his arms and against his chest. Though happy to be against him, she was slightly startled by the sudden end to their more intimate relations. She looked up at him curiously, her eyes asking a question she could not ask.

He stared back at her, breathing heavily, the desire evident within his eyes. "We must stop now, Christine. Or I fear I will not be able to."

"Oh," she whispered, stroking his marred face lovingly, not entirely sure she was as concerned as he was. Seeing her forlorn expression, he moved back and kissed her gently.

"Christine, I love you as I fear you will never know. That you even allow me to touch and kiss you is..." he choked slightly, before continuing. "We shall be married within a month's time," he whispered into her ear before drawing back up. Quickly he buttoned his shirt back up and tied his mask into place. She situated her nightgown back upon her shoulders and smiled shyly as he stood up, taking on his dignified presence once more.

The couple silently prepared to leave in the early morning hours, departing only slightly later than they had intended to.


Several weeks later...

The Vicomte gazed up at the opera house and shivered, remembering the many terrifying events that had occurred within. Two days before, he had been released from the hospital with his concussion healed and one arm in a sling. Despite the persistent coaxing of his sisters to come home and rest, Raoul had immediately begun his long, painstaking search for the kidnapper of his fiancée and murderer of his friend. It pained him that almost a month had passed since she had been taken. So much could have happened in that time. He only prayed that they had not traveled far. Surely it would be difficult for a deformed masked man to journey about in public.

Going on a one man search, he knew, would be useless in a city the size of Paris. The only hope that he had was to find someone whom Christine had kept in contact with...someone who knew the affairs of the opera ghost. Raoul could think of no better person to go to than Madame Giry. Walking down the winding corridors of the ballet dormitories, he finally found her by herself.

"Madame Giry!" he called softly from behind her. The older woman looked up in surprise.

"Monsieur de Chagny!" she exclaimed. "How are you? Oh, I heard what happened to you! How awful!"

"I am much better now, thank you, and I am sorry to disturb you." He hesitated, debating how to go about asking this. "Madame, have you heard from Christine as of late?"

An odd expression crossed the woman's face. Christine had indeed sent her a recent letter, announcing her marriage, but she was not quite sure how much the Vicomte was supposed to know of her current situation. Better to ask Christine before she gave any damaging information away. "No, Monsieur. I have not," she replied.

Raoul could tell by her troubled expression that she was not being completely honest with him. "Madame," he began with a sigh. "I know you think you are protecting her, but I believe Christine to be in danger. If she is truly not in harm's way, I shall leave her alone. But I must make sure of this for myself. Please. Tell me where she is."

The older woman shook her head firmly. "All I can assure you of, Monsieur, is that she is safe and well. Please do not ask me anymore about it." The ballet instructor rapidly turned away from him. He was determined to continue the interrogation, but then he noticed Meg Giry walking down the hall out of the corner of his eye. Perhaps she would know something and would be more likely to reveal the information.

"Thank you anyhow, Madame" he said briefly and quickly strode after the young blonde girl. "Meg!" he called quietly, so that her mother would not hear. She jumped and whirled around.

"Oh, Monsieur de Chagny," she said with a slight blush. "Oh, your poor arm! How are you?"

"I am fine, Meg," he said quickly. "But I am afraid that Christine may not be."

Her face paled. "Why? What has happened?"

"Your mother did not tell you?"

"Maman keeps in touch with Christine through letters but does not tell me of her affairs. Really, it makes me rather angry. I was her friend after all." She sighed in contempt before looking back up at him, slightly embarrassed to have gone off on a rant.

"These letters, Meg. Where are they?" he asked eagerly.

She turned her eyes to the ground. "Maman keeps them in an envelope. But I would not feel right-"she began before he interrupted her.

"Meg, your mother does not understand that Christine may be in great danger. She may be with the Phantom! Only I can help her. And perhaps now you can too. Please, Meg."

Her mouth twisted in thought for a moment as she debated what to do. She did not think the Vicomte meant ill will, for Christine had never spoken badly of him.

"Very well," she replied quietly. "Let me have a second." She scampered off in her ballet shoes and left the Vicomte waiting against the wall impatiently and hoping that Madame Giry would not spot him. After several minutes, the little blonde returned out of breath, several envelopes within hand. All were addressed to a location on the southern edge of Paris. "Here," she said nervously. "And tell Christine that I miss her, Monsieur."

"Thank you, Meg," he replied with relief. "You have done your friend a great service today." She blushed and nodded. "Good bye, Mademoiselle." The Vicomte rushed out of the opera house, ignoring every ache that still lingered in his body.

Five hours later, Raoul found himself staring curiously and anxiously up at a small two story house, practically in the middle of nowhere. It had taken hours of searching and interrogating the locals for him to find the home. Slowly, though, he became more certain that he was heading in the right direction. Nervous citizens had spoken of a strange cloaked man walking the streets several weeks back, one reporting a woman with him in the wee hours of the morning. Then, he had come upon an inn where a young girl had overheard his questions to the innkeeper. She had approached him quickly, speaking excitedly about a man with half a death's head and his beautiful wife. After another hour of searching, he believed he had found the location he sought.

It was in a slightly wooded area, many miles from the nearest stores. The only sound in the air was the wind rustling the trees softly and the faint chirps of a nest of robins. Green grass covered most of the ground, except for where the large elm trees obscured the sunlight. Depending on one's mood, the area could have been considered either serene or eerie. Currently, the only person with Raoul was his driver, sitting in the carriage by the dirt road. The Vicomte had thought it best if at least one person was with him, should he need help.

The grey stone house was quaint, though it had a slightly lonely feel to it. Nervously he walked up to the front and glanced around, awed by the normalcy of the situation. He peeked into the windows and saw that it was dark inside. Along with the fact that there was no carriage or horses in sight, the absence of light led him to believe that no one was home. A spring breeze hit his face, causing him to shiver. The sun was setting lower in the sky, and he began to wonder if he should have waited until the next morning so as to give himself more daylight.

Raoul strolled to the back of the house and saw another thicket of trees. It also appeared that someone had started a little garden. Two tomato plants were slowly beginning to bear fruit and a patch of Marigolds had bloomed under a freshly soiled ground. As the air became cooler, he buttoned up his wool coat and began to return to the front, debating whether to come back at a different time. It would certainly be hell to find this place again. Cursing once under his breath, he stared at the ground in thought and turned the corner to go to the front.

Suddenly, he realized that two shadows had moved directly across his own. Raoul heard a startled gasp and quickly looked up—and directly into the face of Christine Daae.

No. No longer Christine Daae.

She was adorned in an elaborate wedding dress, decorated with lace that sparkled in the dim light. Her dark brown curls were neatly encased under a white veil that nearly matched her porcelain skin. As she looked upon him, the expression on her full red lips changed to one of complete shock, and he saw her eyes widen with a look of both surprise and worry. Finally he forced himself to tear his eyes away from the beautiful woman in front of him. Anxiously, he looked up at her companion.

The Vicomte de Chagny and the Phantom of the Opera met eye to eye for the first time-standing only feet apart.