Disclaimer: These characters still aren't mine…Leroux made them up. Have some ALW things in here as well. So don't sue me.

A/N: Well, hello there everyone! I mean…if anyone still cares about this story? It's been a simply inexcusable amount of time since this was updated and…since it's inexcusable I really have no excuse so I will just beg your forgiveness and hope you will read and enjoy!

But first…thank you to my reviewers! You are all amazing beyond words, truly!

Fantome: Your reviews rock my socks, haha. They always make me happy! So thank you! I'll be seeing you around Cujo's LJ I'm sure… :P

Christine Persephone: Thanks so much for your review! It means a lot to me, and I'm glad you found Christine cute, hehe.

Tranquill: Haha, I know…only one more chapter. But its a nice long one! Thanks for your compliments.

Angelic Lawyer: Obrigada! I do appreciate your reviews very much. And look, I remembered how to say thank you! hehe. I'm glad you're enjoying this.

Mystic Darkness, Emerald Songbird, Crimson Syirean, LadyWillow, rikkirye, Phantom Maestro, kk, AngelMusic, sophie, PenelopeBlack13, Starr-Rider, No One Mourns the Wicked, Cynical Romantic Lass, kimusume kaoru, and monroe-mary:

You guys are awesome. Your reviews are so important to me and I really appreciate them.

Dedication: This chapter is bursts into song Aaaalllll for Caaaatheriiineeee. Hahah, sorry Cat, I couldn't help it… No more WIW, I promise. But seriously, thank you so much for all of your support. This chapter might have NEVER gotten written if it hadn't been for your encouragement and I appreciate it so much. Don't know what I would do without you, darling!

LASTLY! This is the last chapter, but will be followed soon by a short epilogue! So keep your eyes peeled!

Enjoy everyone.

……………………..

Erik found that he could not move. He couldn't believe that this was happening. He was actually speaking to this girl…and she remembered who he was!

Christine sat back on her heels and looked around the room. "Where are you?" she asked.

Erik hesitated now. Surely she would not exactly be pleased to see him should he suddenly burst through her mirror… He was stuck, unsure of what the correct course of action should be. He could circle around and come in through the door, but that would risk his being seen, not to mention would leave many unanswered questions about his voice being inside the room. Confused now, there was silence as he frantically searched for some explanation.

Standing up slowly, Christine frowned. Why wasn't he answering her? Had he gone? "Are you still here?" she asked carefully.

"Yes," Erik answered, his voice settling to its true point behind the mirror.

Christine turned her head in that direction now. She stared at the mirror thoughtfully, as if trying to look past her own reflection. "Where are you?" she repeated, taking a few uncertain steps towards to the mirror.

She touched the glass experimentally. Staring at it thoughtfully, she finally said, "Are you behind the mirror?"

Of course, the purpose of Erik making his voice come normally, from where he actually stood, was just so Christine could guess his location. He figured that it would be slightly less shocking if she knew where he was going to emerge from. Less shocking then him just swinging open the panel and bursting into the room, anyway.

"Stand back," Erik said, defeated. He had to show himself.

Christine took several steps back and waited, her face eager, childlike. Finally, the mirror began to move. She watched with wide eyes as the mirror swung open before her. Her heart seemed to be beating much faster than usual as she tried to see into the darkness that had been revealed.

At last, he stepped forward and for the second time in her life Christine was face to face with Erik the Enchanter.

She bit her tongue to prevent herself from gasping or making any other noise that might offend him. But this was without a doubt the most shocking thing to ever happen to her. She hadn't seen this man in years and now…he was hiding behind the mirror in her dressing room? A million questions filled her mind at once until she was too confused to ask any of them.

Christine finally managed to put a single question together and blurted out, "How did you get here?"

Erik stared down at her. He had pulled himself up to his full height and made quite an imposing figure. He didn't do this to frighten Christine, of course, but he felt so vulnerable and the feeling was sickening.

"I saw you singing on the stage," he admitted. "There are hundreds of secret passages in this building. That," he said, pointing to the mirror, "is one of them." Erik bowed slightly then, and said as heartfeltly as he could. "I must beg your pardon, mademoiselle. I had no intention of spying on you, truly. I wished to see you, and I was sure you wouldn't remember me, or wouldn't accept me if you did. I wasn't thinking properly. It was a terrible error on my part, to stay when I saw you in distress. I wanted to help you, to ease the pain you were feeling. I am deeply sorry for trying to deceive you."

Erik took a deep breath when he had finished this explanation, ready to run back through the mirror and possibly drown himself in the lake beneath the opera if she were to grow angry, or worse, scream. He had permeated her privacy, committed a horrible breach of etiquette. But perhaps she didn't know enough about such things to find it truly alarming.

And it seemed Erik's last hope was correct. The implications of this man watching her from behind her mirror and then actually being alone with her in her dressing room didn't even cross her mind. She was more curious as to how she had somehow found this man again after all this time. He had the most beautiful voice… She couldn't guess why he had tried to deceive her, but his explanation satisfied her well enough.

She knew that later she'd be very hurt that he had tried to trick her in such a way, but she couldn't be angry with him. She couldn't be anything at that moment, but curious.

There was an awkward silence in the room then, as Christine discarded her questions instead of asking them, thinking they sounded too stupid to voice.

Finally Erik broke the silence. "If you wish, mademoiselle, I will leave now and never bother you again."

His voice sounded sad and hopeless and after he had said that Christine was sure she didn't want him to leave. "No…please, don't go. It's just…you've surprised me. I don't know what to say." She shrugged and looked at the floor instead of the tall figure before her.

She heard Erik sigh, then he said, "I do believe that your voice could be great, Christine. I thought that, even when you were a child, if your voice was trained someday, you would have the most extraordinary voice. I could help you, if you wish."

Christine swallowed hard. Erik would help her to sing again… She remembered how it had felt, singing alone on the stage. Maybe someday…she could be the lead soprano. What if it was possible? It would make her father so proud…

"I would like that very much," she said.

She thought she almost saw him smile then. "Very well," he replied. "I will help you. You will amaze all of Paris someday soon, I'm sure of it. Tomorrow evening I will meet you here and we will begin."

Christine nodded. "Tomorrow evening."

Erik moved back toward the mirror. "Goodnight, Christine."

And then he was gone, back through the mirror. Christine shook her head, confused about what had just occurred. A man from her childhood had appeared in her room, offered to mold her voice to greatness, and strangely…he still wore the same black mask.

Shaking her head again, she said quietly, "Until tomorrow."

……………………………..

After rehearsal the next day, Christine again ran straight away to her dressing room. It was empty when she arrived. She called Erik's name and on hearing no response, went as quickly as possible behind her changing screens to don a proper dress. A dressing gown may have been well enough for an angel, but she felt it rather inappropriate for a singing tutor.

Emerging dressed simply, she turned to the mirror at her vanity and pulled her hair out of its bun and tied it back more comfortably with a bit of ribbon.

Just as she had finished this, she heard the sound of his voice. But not speaking, not asking for permission to enter the room, just singing. He was singing for her with that unearthly beautiful voice that felt familiar, but still left her shivering.

The wordless melody grew in strength and the mirror slowly opened to reveal him. If she had been more in charge of her senses, she would have wondered about this display he put on for her, as if in entertainment. But part of her was so intent on Erik's song that she couldn't bring herself to think of anything else.

Still dressed in black, Erik lifted the violin he carried in his hand, it's sweet sound accompanying his voice. Christine felt rather dizzy, her senses assaulted by these beautiful sounds such as she had never heard before.

His voice died off slowly, but the violin continued, slowly melding into a familiar aria that he knew her highly capable of.

"Now sing," he commanded, in a tone so enticing it did not once occur to her to refuse.

As she sang, she was instantly transformed. She was five years old again, dancing in the sunlight, her bare feet skimming across the grass. Her father laughed. It was he playing the violin! He had come back to her in her Angel of Music… She sang, she sang with her soul light and renewed. She sang in a way she hadn't since her father had died and the feeling within her was that of ecstasy.

Erik felt as if he were alive again. He hadn't realised it until then, how at some point, being buried under the ground and completely isolated, he had died. But this girl was reviving him with her voice, her spirit, her promise of acceptance. A thrill went through him at the very thought of it. Acceptance… He had found a meaning to his life at last.

The music stopped only when Christine fainted. The violin fell from Erik's hands, carelessly dropping to the thick carpet. He was at Christine's side instantly. With slight hesitation he lifted her into his arms and felt an extreme disappointment when she left them as he lowered her onto the divan.

Christine stirred slightly and Erik knelt down beside her, drinking in the sight of her, the joy of seeing her matured features. Her cheeks had lost their childish roundness and she had become an exquisite beauty. In Erik's eyes, she was the angel, not he. She was perfect.

Christine opened her eyes then, blinking several times trying to regain her senses. She saw Erik and smiled.

"Erik," she said, "that was... Oh, I…I felt as if I could sing again." Her eyes shone, her lips curled upward in a dreamy smile.

Erik could hardly believe the joy he felt at hearing Christine say his name. It had been so long since anyone had said his name…

"You've always been able to sing, Christine. Your voice could thrill all of Paris someday."

He offered his hand to her and helped her to rise.

"I will not teach you today, Christine. Today I simply showed you that you have always possessed the ability to sing and that it is not lost. You've experienced it yourself. We will soon begin your lessons and your voice will shock those who hear it, for they will not believe its magnificence."

Christine's face flushed at this flattery, but she had the sense not to argue. She didn't know if she believed Erik's words…but he had proved to her that she could still sing. Perhaps the talent had been buried by her own hand, but Erik would find it again, she was sure.

She trusted him.

………………………

During the next few weeks, Christine was visited by Erik daily after her rehearsals with the company.

The days didn't seem nearly as long anymore. While she remembered forcing herself through life before, she nearly floated through it now. She had had nothing. Her father had left her and she was abandoned in the strange world of performance.

But now, she had something to live for, something to look forward to every day.

Erik was helping her in ways even he couldn't fully comprehend. Christine began to enjoy life again. She really laughed for the first time in years, succeeding in surprising Meg who was among the first to notice such a change in her.

Christine simply felt a confidence that had abandoned her when her father died. She had it back now. She danced better during rehearsals, and more importantly, she was truly singing again.

Erik's lessons were a struggle for her at first. It was difficult for her to concentrate on singing when it reminded her so strongly of her father. But slowly, Erik pulled her from that sadness that surrounded her. He taught her that she could sing. Her father hadn't lied about that. She could sing if she allowed herself to.

With each lesson she became a little stronger. Soon, even she could hear a difference in her voice.

She enjoyed singing the way she did when she was a little girl. Christine gradually realised that it would have pained her father to see her in her previous state. Surely a way to make him happy would be to sing.

……………………………..

One day, after a particularly fulfilling lesson for Christine, she watched Erik lovingly place his violin in its case as he always did before disappearing back through the mirror.

She had been so happy over the past weeks that she still had not asked him why he came and went through the mirror, why he wore a mask…why anything. It was all so strange when she thought about it that she often chose not to. Erik made her feel safe and wonderful in a way no one had since her father. She was afraid of losing that over a question that could offend him.

"You sang very well today, Christine," Erik said, interrupting her thoughts.

Christine looked up at him and smiled. Erik began to smile as well, but abruptly turned away from her and went back to the packing of his precious instrument.

She frowned. He did that often. As if he were afraid to show her too much of his emotions. She wondered what exactly he could be afraid of in doing something as simple as smiling.

Closing the clasps on the case, he picked up the violin and placed his hat on his head, preparing to leave her. But Christine found that she didn't want him to leave.

Boldly, she stood and said, "Erik, wait…"

He turned back to her.

"Will you…will you stay awhile longer?" she asked him.

Erik nearly smiled again. "I'm afraid your voice will be strained if we continue any longer today, my dear."

Christine paused. He'd misunderstood her. "No," she said finally. "Not to sing…just to talk. I thought maybe you could just keep me company for awhile?"

She finished as if phrasing a question. Erik's expression seemed to have changed and she couldn't tell whether her request had offended him in some way.

After what seemed an eternity of silence, but was truly only a few seconds, Erik slowly lowered his instrument to the floor. "If you wish," he said.

Christine thought there was a slight tremor in his voice and she watched him carefully as he placed his hat back on her vanity.

She stood up as he continued to stand awkwardly and went towards him.

"I just wanted to thank you really… These lessons, having you here….they mean everything to me, Erik. Just everything!"

Erik seemed surprised at this. But how could he not know how much she cared for him? And she truly did care for him. Slowly, he was becoming her world.

He didn't respond and anxious to fill the silence, Christine said as sincerely as she could, "You have made me so happy. I don't know how I can ever repay you for this."

Unconsciously, she took his hand as she spoke. The moment she touched him however, his arm followed by his entire body stiffened. His eyes widened into an unreadable expression. Slowly, he pulled his hand away from hers.

She looked into his eyes, confused by his reaction. "Erik?" she whispered.

But he seemed not to hear her. His hand slowly raised to the air next to her cheek. Her skin tingled from the proximity of his fingers. She felt the sudden desire for him to touch her. She realised that he hadn't ever touched her…

He traced the outline of her face without making contact. Erik's hand froze, trembling, as in realisation that she was not running away nor was she repulsed by the idea of his touch.

Gently, as if it had been a feather rather than flesh, his fingers brushed against her cheek. Her eyes closed and she gasped automatically at the cold thrill of his touch.

Suddenly, Erik jerked away from her, his hand balling into a fist. Without saying a word, he snatched up his violin and was gone in a matter of seconds.

Christine remained where she stood, now quite alone.

………………………………….

On the other side of the mirror, Erik collapsed. Leaning against the cold, stone wall of the passage, he began to cry silent tears.

He had not been wrong. He loved her. He loved her! Surely this was what love felt like. This unbelievable pain of being so close to this girl every day, but at the same time being so far away.

It had been horrible of him to touch her. How dare he touch her with his death's hands? No one deserved that. He looked at his wretched hands, blurred by the tears coming from his eyes. His fingers were long, skeletal, and deathly white. They had no business ever touching a woman.

Especially not Christine…no he could not touch her! It would hurt her and he felt at that moment that he would rather die than cause her pain.

But he wanted her…he wanted her for himself. If only he could tell her of his love… If only he were a normal man who could court a lady!

He had resigned himself to his solitude so long ago. He knew that no woman would ever love him.

But what if… He still clung to the hope that Christine was different. He still clung to the hope that she would still see past his hideous visage as she had done so many years ago…

He clung to that hope. He had to.

………………………………

Christine met Erik the next afternoon full of trepidation. She didn't quite understand what had occurred yesterday or if it was her fault.

She arrived at her dressing room and changed as usual. Several minutes later, the mirror opened and Erik stepped inside, nodding to her courteously, but saying nothing.

He simply laid his violin case down, opened it, and began to tune his intrument.

Christine watched him for a moment until she could not keep from speaking any longer.

"Is everything all right, Erik?" she blurted.

Erik hands stopped his work on the violin, but did not turn to face her. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, my dear."

"I mean…you left so suddenly yesterday. I thought maybe I had done something wrong," she finished quietly.

Erik turned to her immediately. "No, Christine. Nothing that happened yesterday was your fault." He paused. "I…I apologise for my behaviour."

There was silence between them, broken eventually by Erik beginning to play scales on his violin. Their lesson began and ended normally. The incident was eventually forgotten, and their tentative friendship continued.

……………………………….

Later that afternoon, Meg Giry was to be seen creeping through the opera towards Christine's dressing room..

Finally reaching the door, Meg knocked lightly and waited.

Nearly a full minute passed before the door was finally opened.

Despite having to wait, Meg grinned the moment the door opened and hugged her friend as she exclaimed, "Christine! Oh it feels like ages since I've been able to come talk to you… You never seem to be here when I come! But today I caught you."

Still smiling Meg entered the room. "It does seem like so long since we've talked. I hardly ever see you. Well, except at rehearsal, but that's no fun."

Christine couldn't help but grin as well. Meg's smile was rather infectious. "Yes, I'm glad you came, Meg. Come, let's sit down."

"Oh yes, let's. We'll talk at last," Meg said cheerfully as she settled herself on the divan and Christine did the same. "If you wouldn't mind terribly, I'd like to ask you something first."

Christine tensed slightly. "All right," she said.

Meg didn't notice and continued on, "Well, it's just that I've noticed a change in you, you see. You're just…happier. I can tell, I know just how sad you used to be. Even now I can see the difference! What's happened, Christine?" Meg smiled slyly then. "You haven't met someone have you?"

Christine forced herself to laugh. "No, no, Meg, nothing like that."

"Well, then what?" Meg asked innocently.

Christine paused. She had thus far refrained from telling Meg anything about Erik. She was afraid that no one could possibly understand…

"Christine?" Meg asked, her eyebrows knitting slightly. "Will you not tell me?"

Biting her lip slightly, Christine looked down at her hands, considering what might happen if she did tell Meg everything. She had a right to know after all. Friends shouldn't keep secrets, especially such important ones!

Meg's face had rearranged itself again into a hurt expression. "Have I done something?"

Christine looked into Meg's worried eyes and immediately said, "Oh, no, Meg. You haven't done anything. Of course not… It's just…I don't know if you'll understand."

Christine trailed off and she looked to the floor. Meg ducked her head and found Christine's gaze.

Softly, she said, "You can tell me."

Christine took Meg's hand. "Meg…please, if I tell you, you can't tell anyone."

Meg gripped Christine's hand tighter, thrilled that she was finally going to be let in on what promised to be a juicy secret. "I promise, I won't," she said sincerely.

Christine was unsure where to begin in an explanation of Erik. She decided the best way would be to begin with her father's story.

And so she did.

"When I was a little girl, my father used to tell me stories, fairy tales, late at night. They had such magic in them and I believed it all, of course. And…maybe I still believe some of it. It is better to believe in magic isn't it? Than to believe that there isn't something so good in the world?"

She paused for a moment. She sounded silly. But she continued on anyway.

"The story he told most often was of an Angel of Music. He was an Angel who came down from Heaven. He would go to good little girls and boys and would grant them the gift of his music. Papa told me that when he died he would ask the Angel to come to me, so that I would sing in his heavenly way."

Again, Christine had to stop, though this time over the pain of recounting the time her father and she had shared.

Fighting back tears, she kept going. "It was a story…but I believed it. I wanted to, I had to. It was all I had left of him after he died, his stories and his promise of an Angel. And…an Angel has come to me, Meg. You won't believe it, but I swear that it is true. I thought he was a real Angel and maybe he is. But he teaches me, Meg! Oh wonderful things…he's taught me to sing and to be happy."

Meg listened to this fantastic story without comment, but now she could not resist the urge to speak any longer. "But…it was only a story."

Christine sighed. "Yes…it was just a story. But I have an Angel! He isn't an Angel from heaven, but he is one all the same. To me he is."

"But who is he, Christine?" Meg persisted, rather baffled by what she had been told.

"He's…well I suppose he is a man."

Meg's eyes widened. Her hand tightened on Christine's. "A man?" she repeated.

"Well, yes," Christine said, avoiding Meg's eyes. "He's a man…I met him once a long time ago when I was a little girl. And he's found me again."

Biting her lower lip, Meg hesitated, unsure what to think of Christine's story. On the one hand, whoever this strange tutor was he certainly had had an affect on her friend. She was happy, that much was true. On the other…

Something was telling Meg that there was trouble to be found in the midst of this fairy tale.

Christine sighed when Meg did not respond. "You don't understand," she said quietly.

"Oh, Christine, I'm sorry," Meg answered, automatically becoming more upset by the sadness in her friend's voice. "It's just…isn't it rather odd that such a story should come true? I mean…well…" The girl paused, blushing slightly. "What if he's trying to trick you?" she finished lamely.

Christine's eyebrows knitted together. "Oh, Meg, no… This is not a trick. He is…well, he's my friend. He's my teacher."

Meg tilted her head to the side and looked hard at Christine. It seemed to her that she was telling the truth and not hiding anything else… But it still nagged at Meg that a man was visiting Christine everyday. She didn't want her to be hurt.

"Oh Christine…" she said at last. "Are you sure it's all right to have him here? I mean…what if…" Meg stopped, grasping for words.

"No, it's not like that, really. He wouldn't ever hurt me."

"Are you sure?" Meg asked.

Christine looked away, wishing that her friend would stop being so concerned and be the bubbly, cheerful girl who had first walked into her dressing room.

Meg frowned when Christine didn't answer. She paused, making a decision. "I'm going to tell my mother," she declared, stood, and started for the door.

Christine's eyes widened with fear. She lunged forward and grasped Meg's arm. "Meg, no! Please, you can't!"

"I have to," Meg told her friend sadly. "I'm afraid for you, Christine."

Christine was beginning to panic, but she held fast to Meg's arm. "Please, Meg. You promised not to tell anyone. Please, he might be taken away from me and I'll just die, Meg. I'll die! Please," she begged.

Meg stopped trying to free her arm, seeing Christine's tears.

The girl sighed, "I'm sorry, Christine… I promised I wouldn't tell, but…I was just worried. But maybe you're right. He has helped you…"

Meg paused, still indecisive. "Just promise me you'll tell me or someone if anything is wrong?"

Christine nodded fervently. "I promise, Meg. I won't get hurt."

Meg nodded as well, accepting that she couldn't do something that would hurt Christine so badly. She embraced her impulsively then. "I'm sorry, Christine," she said again.

She pulled away, taking her hands. "So what has he taught you then?"

Christine hesitated. "You want to hear me?"

Meg smiled. "Of course I do! If he's such a great tutor I want to hear what he's done." She reseated herself on the divan. "Well, go on!"

Christine took a deep breath and began. The Jewel Song again, the same she had sung for Meg and "the ghost" those short weeks ago. However, it was different this time. Meg heard the same lovely voice that Christine had always had, but it was changed. It had feeling. That was the difference, the tone was richer, melting in the air. And Christine really sang. She didn't just combine notes and lyrics anymore, she put her heart in it. There was power and meaning behind the words now. Meg had never heard anything so beautiful.

When the song had finished, Meg didn't know what to say. Christine stood in front of her, blushing in the silence. "Well?" she asked quietly.

Meg stood and hugged her. "Christine…maybe he is an angel."

…………………………..

"Erik," Christine said, when his violin was shut safely into its case. "What is beyond the mirror exactly?"

He turned away from the case that sat on the vanity and turned to look at her. His eyes narrowed and after a moment he said, "Why do you ask, my dear?"

She shrugged, looking down at the floor. "I was just wondering…" She paused, wondering if she dared say what she wanted to say next. She did dare. "Maybe you could show me?"

Christine looked up to find an odd look in Erik's eyes, but he did actually seem to be considering it. After all, she had been under his instruction for some time and she liked to think of them as very good friends… She blushed suddenly, trying to crush the thought that told her she didn't always consider him just a good friend… But she did want to see where he went… What was behind there?

He turned from her then, seemingly to give her request serious consideration. Was he risking something in showing her?

After a brief moment, Erik turned and said, "All right, Christine. I will show you."

She smiled, though a little uncertainly. She had no idea what she had gotten herself into, after all.

He went to the mirror then, reaching up to touch the mechanism that would pivot the glass to allow them passage. He disappeared for just a moment into the darkness before returning with a lantern which she assumed he had just lit.

"I suggest you put on something warm," he said to her.

Christine face creased slightly in curiosity, but she obeyed, taking her cloak from the hook on the wall. She fumbled with the strings as she tied it on, noticing now that her fingers were shaking. But what did she have to be afraid of?

He took the lantern in one hand and his violin in the other, then stepped through into the darkness. "Come, Christine."

She hesitated for only a moment before following him in. The mirror swung shut behind her and she jumped, instinctively grabbing onto Erik's sleeve. But the moment she felt him flinch, she released him, blushing.

She looked around as Erik held the lantern high so she could see as much as possible. They were in a stone passage. To her right lay a hall, or at least she assumed so, she couldn't see very far. Directly in front of them was an endless staircase, leading down, down into blackness.

Christine bit her lip. This was starting to frighten her. The dark was oppressive.

Erik waited patiently for her to inspect these surroundings and then said, "Are you ready, my dear?"

She paused and nodded. He began down the stairs, but she stopped him. Christine took the violin from him, and then took his hand. Its icy coldness shocked her, but she needed to hold onto him for this journey. He had flinched again at her touch, but she did not let go. And so they began down those stone steps.

Christine was grateful for the warmth of her cloak, with each step she took the temperature seemed to drop. She was also grateful for Erik's hand holding hers as she managed to stumble many times.

The stairs and halls were a maze to her that she felt she would never be able to get through, but Erik moved through it all so naturally. She felt safe with him as her guide.

He sensed that she was afraid. This was all so strange to her. And so he began to sing. Softly, then building…she joined him as they went farther and soon she barely noticed how far they were going. She felt more like she was floating than walking, her feet cushioned by the sound of Erik's voice, more perfect than any voice she would ever hear.

Erik's singing continued when suddenly the stairs ended and there before them lay a lake. There was a lake under the opera house! Christine barely seemed to notice that this was unusual. She felt dazed, still floating, not completely aware of her surroundings. So she allowed Erik to help her into a small rowboat without a sound and his voice carried them across.

……………………………………..

Christine awoke on a divan in a comfortable sitting room before a large fireplace. Blinking several times, struggling to remember where she was or why she had been asleep. Perhaps she had fainted again….

She turned her head and saw Erik seated in a large armchair a few feet away. The journey he had brought on her was recalled to her mind. Yes, he had brought her down in the darkness and they had sung together…

She sat up and Erik turned to look at her, his eyes empty of expression, seeming more interested in examining hers.

Christine sat up and looked around her, examining the room around her, surprised at the normalcy.

For yes, Erik's home, five cellars below the opera, could be seemingly normal in many of the rooms. The sitting room could have belonged to any other house, except for its obvious lack of windows and natural light.

She looked back at him and asked quietly, "This is where you live?"

He nodded.

The question 'Why?' lingered on her lips, but she did not voice it. Just as she did not question his mask, she did not question his home.

After looking around a second time, finding nothing to fear around her, she looked at him and smiled slightly.

A few moments later he asked carefully, "Would you like something to eat, child?"

She nodded. He stood and offered his hand to help her off the divan. She held fast to his hand as he led her through to another room, partly for support and partly because it felt comforting. It was cold…but not frighteningly so. It reminded her of her Mamma Valerius. Her hands had always been cold. Erik reminded her of so many good things…

Christine ate the food he offered her, after which she felt sleepy and content. Erik then took her to a room which he called hers and she slept in such comfort and elegance that she felt she had somehow become a queen, a queen in Erik's kingdom.

………………………………

She awoke several hours later. There was a small clock on top of the bureau, so she knew that it was approximately 2:30 in the morning. It couldn't have been in the afternoon, she hadn't slept that long.

Slowly Christine became aware of music playing somewhere in the house. Taking one more moment to enjoy the softness of the bed she had slept in, she sat up and lowered her feet onto the soft carpeting. She crept through the room and opened the door, the music getting louder as she did so. She followed the sound through the sitting room and into a drawing room.

Erik sat at a piano, playing so passionately that it seemed he was completely unaware that she had entered the room. In fact, it seemed he was completely unaware of anything but his music. She went closer to him, watching in amazement as his fingers seemed to fly across the keys, barely touching them. She had never heard such music played, she had no idea that such sound could be emitted from this instrument.

His back was to her, he paid her no mind at all. He really hadn't heard her come in. She took this opportunity to just watch him, the way she couldn't when he could see her doing so. His fingers were incredible, long and agile, and she loved watching the muscles in his back and his shoulders moving as his fingers moved along the piano. Her eyes moved upward and she saw the ties that held his mask in place.

His mask… She didn't notice it as much as she might have, she had been so happy here. But now as she stared at those ribbons she began to wonder… He had worn it all those years ago. Why? He hadn't worn it as part of his magician's costume if he still wore it today. But why? Why wear a mask? Christine had a sudden burning desire to see his face, his face that would be so handsome. She would surely fall in love with him if she could see his handsome face. There was no reason for him to wear a mask! She knew who he was.

The ribbons were tied securely…but if she pulled the end they would come undone and the black silk would slip from his face. Excitement began to build in her stomach. She wanted to see him! Her fingers itched to reach for those ribbons!

Christine crept up behind him slowly as he continued to play the piano. He didn't notice her careful steps. Her hand rose, her fingers an inch away from the ties. She was seconds away from seeing him…

Before she could think of the consequences of such an action and before she could change her mind, her fingers flew forward, grasping the ribbon and tugging it.

The ties came undone, the mask slipped off his face, and the music came to a crashing halt. Christine's hand was still raised in the position it had been when she had untied the mask. The silence in the room frightened her. Why wasn't he doing anything? Then slowly, he turned.

Christine suddenly found herself in a tent packed with people. She was facing them and all of them seemed the same. Eyes were wide with terror, women fell to the ground in dead faints, mothers turned away and were quick to cover children's eyes. And the screams…people were screaming! The sound echoing around the tent, the tone matching all of those horrified faces…

When Christine found herself back in the drawing room she realised that she was the one screaming. She was on the ground, tears streaming down her face, she was screaming. That face…all of the people in the tent had seen it that day, but she hadn't…And now, now it was her turn.

Erik was standing a few feet from her, his eyes seemed filled with fire. He was terrifying, completely and utterly. His face was deformed beyond anything she could have imagined. Yet he made no attempt to cover it, did not lift a hand to shield her vision from the yellowish skin, the gaping hole in the center of his face…if it could even be called that. He simply stared at her, as if he could not comprehend the sight before him anymore than she could.

She was still screaming, crying out incomprehensibly. She wanted to stop, but she couldn't. She was horrified, shocked, crushed… And Erik stood before her, staring.

When he finally moved, he did it so fast she hadn't even noticed until he was beside her. He grabbed her roughly, a swift movement that she didn't try to understand. First this face, and now hints of violence in him. She couldn't handle it. Her eyes closed tightly as his fingers wrapped brutally around her wrists.

Then he spoke. "No…" Was that disbelief in his voice? Had he thought she wouldn't be afraid? "No!" Louder now, anger… "Look at me!"

Christine didn't listen. She turned her head away her eyes remaining shut tight. But they snapped open suddenly, a cry of pain emitting from her throat as Erik's fingers tangled into her hair, pulling her head back so she was forced to look straight at him.

"I said look at me," he growled, an ugly snarl forming, making the horrible distortion of his face even more horrifying to behold.

"No, please… Please, let me go!" Christine cried out. She tried to pull away, but shrieked as his fingers pulled her hair.

"Are you afraid, Christine?" he sneered at her.

"Yes!" she cried. "Please, let go! Let go!"

"You were supposed to accept this!" he shouted, the rage in his voice filling the room. "You've seen this!"

"No, no! Please…please!" She tried to jerk away again, but he held fast to her.

He moved so his face was very close to hers. She felt the sudden urge to be sick. A scream came from her again and lashing out in a desperate attempt to get away, she kicked him, her foot squarely meeting his side. His grip loosened slightly on impact and she took advantage of this to wrench away from his grasp and run for the door.

But Erik was too fast, he caught her, grabbing her arm and pulling her around. "Not so accepting any more! I was wrong about you. You've grown up and changed your mind about looking past this face!"

His inexpressible anger frightened Christine. His fingers were bruising her arm. "Please! You're hurting me!"

"And you are not hurting me? You wanted to see this, didn't you? You brought this upon yourself!"

With this he pushed her down and she fell in a heap, sobs rising in her throat. She lay where she had fallen, crying helplessly, covering her face with her hands. But they were pulled away and again her eyes met that horrible face.

"You will look at me! Please, feast your eyes!" And then Erik laughed. A horrible, cold laugh that chilled Christine to the bone. Now she knew he would hurt her. He grinned evilly at her. "Would you like to touch as well?"

Before she could cry out her fingers were on his face, her nails scraping his deformed flesh. There was blood. Christine's head spun, the sight was making her sick. She became so weak that he was holding her up, but this didn't stop him, her nails continued to scrape against his skin, she could feel it under them.

"You feel this, Christine? Oh yes, it's real, you can feel for yourself. How does it feel, Christine?"

"Please," she whimpered, her final plea.

To her surprise he let her go. She collapsed completely, lying flat on the floor. Her body racked with sobs and she made no attempt to rise. She watched Erik's feet as he stood.

She heard him speak, so softly she could barely hear. "You have destroyed everything, Christine. I hope you're happy."

He left her then, the door closed behind him. Christine curled into a ball as tightly as she could, hugging her knees fiercely, with her eyes tightly shut. She began to hum madly. She tried to force the horrid image from her mind, but it was no use. Her image of Erik had been tainted, ruined. She could not look at him again.

………………………………..

Erik stumbled blindly away from the drawing room, somehow reaching his own room where he collapsed against the door the moment it was closed. The grief he felt was unbearable. His anger was spent now and there was just pain. It was almost physical the sharpness that stung every bit of him. He had suffered much in his life, but this was a different kind of pain. He had spent the happiest day of his life with Christine. He had imagined more days like it, had imagined true happiness… And it had been torn away from him. This was a different pain, a horrible pain…

The phantom sat there, his fingers clutching his face, feeling the blood that Christine's nails had extracted. He was filled with such utter hatred of himself. He had always felt this, but he did not prefer to sit around brooding over it. But what else could he do now? When his one chance of happiness had been destroyed…because of his face!

No! It wasn't supposed to happen this way! She was supposed to accept him… But he had been wrong, so wrong. He felt broken, he felt that he would die. He had practically loved the girl and now he had hurt her, made her fear him. It was all over now, it was all over. It had barely even begun.

He couldn't continue. He didn't deserve to live, he didn't want to live anymore. Erik had truly believed that Christine would save him, but she hadn't. She had killed him.

He couldn't stand it, the more he thought about it, the more pain it brought. He couldn't take it anymore…couldn't stand the pain that his whole life had been. He had had one day of happiness and he didn't deserve that much.

Erik realised he was crying, giving the impression that he was indeed crying tears of blood. It was gruesome, and so very fitting.

Slowly, and after many minutes, Erik uncurled himself from his position. He was done with this pain. He took a deep breath, taking back the control he kept over himself. He became stone, no emotion could touch him now.

He went to his wardrobe and removed a mask from within it. Tying the ribbons securely, he moved to the door, knowing that things had to be this way. He had no choice.

Erik walked calmly back to the drawing room. Putting his ear to the door, he listened and heard nothing but silence. He opened the door and looked down at Christine, still lying on the floor where he had left her. Examining her more carefully he could see that she had either fainted or completely exhausted herself and fallen asleep.

He felt nothing as he lifted her into his arms, nothing as he left the house with her. There was still nothing when he placed her in the boat and took her across the lake. This entire time, she did not stir, but slept calmly, dried tears on her cheeks, her hair tangled and wild from where he had pulled it. But Erik felt no remorse, he felt nothing now.

Many passages and stairways later, Erik had arrived back to her dressing room. He placed her on the divan and looked down at her.

And he no longer felt nothing. It took all his strength to remain standing as another wave of agony hit him over what he had done to her and what she had done to him. He would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life, he had exposed her to a horror she hadn't deserved to see. She had been so innocent… What had he done?

He forgave her for what she had done. He knew that he was the one to blame. It didn't matter really, he deserved nothing less and his pain would be over far sooner than her nightmares would end.

Christine looked peaceful in her sleep. She was spared the horror of his face for this moment at least. Erik looked down at her, memorising everything about her.

After several moments, Erik knew he had to leave, she could wake at any time and she could not see him with her. He then repeated the old trick he had shown her so many years ago, a red rose appearing in his hand. Reverently, he laid it beside her.

Erik moved back to the mirror and flipped the switch to open it. Looking back at her one last time he whispered, "Goodbye, Christine." And then he was gone.

…………………………..

A/N: Thanks so much for reading. Please review!