In a very unusual way, I think I'm in love with you.
In a very unusual way, I want to cry.
Something inside me goes weak, something inside me
surrenders,
And you're the reason why,
You're the reason why.
You don't know what you do to me.
You don't have a clue.
You can't tell what it's like to be me looking at
you.

Special to me in my life,
Since the first day that I met you.
How could I ever forget you,
Once you had touched my soul?
In a very unusual way, you've made me whole.

Maury Yeston's Nine 'Unusual Way

How strange that Raoul's outburst did not make me fret as it would have only weeks ago. All I could think of returning to my Angel, Erik. I didn't feel frightened of returning to his dark world. I only felt his tugging, his awesome love. I felt peaceful, serene. Without saying anything to my little maid I slipped into the night with the key. In my determination I completely forgot to be scared of walking the dark street of Paris that would lead me to the Opera Garnier and Erik. Oh, Erik, I miss you so much! I was astonished how easy Erik's 'front door' had opened. I gingerly made my way to his home. What assaulted my disbelieving eyes when the Persian opened the gate brought tears instantly to my eyes. The black candles ripped in half, their candelabra knocked to the floor. His beloved masterpiece, Don Juan Triumphant rend apart. The beautiful pipe organ he would sit behind for hours composing his music, split from the wall. It laid on the Persian rug in pieces. My instinct was to set the room as it was once. But my need to see Erik was far greater. As if he was psychic Nadir simply pointed to my room. I don't even know if he saw my nod. I'm not sure if my feet touched the floor as I approached the closed door. My hands were clammy as I reached for the brass knob. Afraid of what laid behind the ornate door. I tried to wipe the sweat on my plain gray skirt. There was my beautiful Angel lying listlessly on the bed he was born in. I gasped involuntarily. Even after his last attack he never looked this afflicted. My poor Erik! I flew to his side with thoughts of adoration and health. His mismatched eyes fluttered open, I attempt to smile; but seeing him so made me want to cry. He frowned immediately, I had hoped that our reunion would bring him joy. To soothe his aching soul. He muttered "Not this dream again." So he didn't think I would return. Of course, my darling I would fight to revisit you. I have made my decision to come back to you, my love. It was a conclusion that I did not make lightly. God, forgive me for hurting Raoul, but Erik needs me more. And for the first time I'll be utterly truthful I need him too. Why hadn't I seen this before? My desire for him. I don't mean just carnally, I desire his heart, soul and music. I want to share his life.

I tell him I'm not his imagination . That I'm real. To prove to him I call Nadir into the room. I remove his gleaming white mask, which I gave to Erik's only friend. He respire in surprise. I begin to kiss him all over. Even the part of the world he hides from the world! I never heard the Persian leave, but the next time I glance around he wasn't there. I was grateful to have some time alone with Erik. I so wanted to rant for him not to die and leave me alone. Not when I finally realized I love him passionately. I cautiously sit down on the mattress beside him. I succeed in smiling at him in spite of my fear of losing him. My heart pounded against the walls of my chest, unsure what to do next.

"You come back?" He asked as if he was still uncertain.

"Yes, Erik." I whisper.

"Why? Why did that damn boy ever allow you to return?" Raoul?

"You asked him to bring me back." I remind him.

"I thought that the Vicomte had more sense to let you return to me." Why had you requested it? "I thought he would protect you better, my dear." He persisted.

"I came here without Raoul." I explain. "He doesn't know I'm here."

"You must leave here at once, my child!"

"I'm not a child. And I'm definitely not your child, Erik." I scream. He looked shocked at my outburst. I fear that I've hurt him once again. So I explicate. "I love you. Not as a child loves her father, but as a woman loves a man."

"Christine, I'm not a man," He persevered. "I'm but a monster."

"Stop believing the world. You are worthy of love." I murmur. He is quiet for a long while, I fear he will not answer.

"I quite forgive you, Christine. I do not need your pity."

"Pity? You think I do this out of ruth?"

"I release you completely!"

"But I don't want to be released." I say urgently. Why didn't he believe me? "I want to be here. I want to be your wife!" So I said it, what laid in my heart. He looks at me with dismay. "I mean it!"I reply fiercely. Hoping he will accept my words.

"Why? How?"

"I don't know, Erik. I just do." I tell him honestly. He begins to cry. "Oh, Erik. Please don't cry, my darling." I plead.

"I cry with joy. No one in my fifty odd years has ever told me they love me." No one? Not his mother? A friend? All of what I know of him makes perfect sense now. His constant anger and hatred of humanity.

"My poor darling. The world is remiss for you are loved totally." Erik closes his eyes as if to let my words wash over him.

"I love you, Christine!"

"I know." Peace floods through my veins like melted gold. I look down at our entwined hands. There in the candlelight the ring he had once proffered gleamed. I lift his hand reverently slipping off the gold band. I looked up at him to make sure he was watching my movements. And he was, raptly, in fact. I slip it on the finger that it should be on. He brings my hand to his lips and kiss it. Shivers of desire ripple through me. How I want him! My new husband! I was still timid about these belated responses. But my dread that Erik would believe that I held back due to his face was surpassing.

"Thank you, Christine." Erik spoke quietly I'm still not sure whether it was weakness or veneration.

"Thank you?"

"For telling a dying man the words he has yearned to hear all of his life."

Tears sprang to my eyes. "Erik, my love, you are not going to die." I exclaim earnestly.

"I am." Erik continued.

"No, you can't. I need you." I stammer.

"You don't, not really. You will go home and marry Raoul." I can't believe what I'm hearing. He has fought my childhood sweetheart at every step and now he gives his bloody blessing. Just when I no longer have desire to wed Raoul. The only reason why I agreed to be come his wife to escape my very adult feelings for my Angel. But I'm no longer the scared little mouse. I'm ready to explore these amorous feelings for the man beside me. I've never wanted to hurt my youthful protector, but I must follow my heart. I will always love the young boy that retrieved my favorite red scarf from the sea.

"I don't want to marry Raoul." I whimper. "I want to be with you."

"Christine, my muse, I will be not on this earth much longer." He says quietly. I begin to sob uncontrollably. A part of knew he was telling the truth. The larger part of wanted rant and rave, to beg him not to leave me alone. I was already lonely. There was a huge gapping hole in my heart. It was yet dubious on what was proper between a husband and wife. Could I commence our corporeal expression of our mutual feelings. More importantly would may loving husband be able to perform? His agone heart attack left him torpid. I mounted my questions far more worried that he would indeed die without us ever making love. I lean forward so that our lips touch, instantly one of my questions was answered. Erik grasped my shoulder, holding me to him. When we separate we are both gasping for air. I've never felt so free before, not even when I let myself go in the music as I dance. A long finger brush an errant curl out of my glowing eyes. My own hands travel to his beautiful face, before I capture his mouth once more. Our tongues begin the age old dance. A shiver of satisfaction ran up and down my spine. I was in heaven, yes, he must be an Angel. How could he not be? Just when I get acquainted with one feeling another shoots through me. This time instead of being fearful I embrace it. My hands had a mind of their own, they slip inside his immaculate jacket urging the expensive material down his surprisingly vigorous arms in spite of ill-health. It might have been pure animal instinct or he could have very mindful of his every move. He lifted himself off the mattress so that I could dispose of his jacket. Oh lord we're about to make love. I still had to remove his glimmering alabaster shirt. Damn! My usually nimble fingers were inept with the pearl buttons. A shock of desire shoot through me as our flesh meet as my fingers graze his throat. Our breathing is in sync, ragged. I hold a breath in anticipation as I gather the linen shirt from the top of his black pants. Eyeing his chest as my lover undid the cuff links and buttons. All that needed to be done was to strip it off. I don't remember how it was removed...I was hypnotized by his fingers as they went to take the pins out of my russet hair. His elongated fingers massaged my scalp. Which solicited a moan of pleasure from me. He smiles as he examines my hair as it tumbles down onto my shoulders. I must have blushed under his ever intense gaze. I turn around so that my paramour could unfasten my day dress, gently he pushes the muslin from my shaking shoulders.. Everywhere he touches my skin burns. Soon after that I sat there only in my shift and corset. I suppose I should have been shy at being this undressed in front of a man. Instead I bask under his passionate regard. My dress laid in a heap on the floor.

"My darling Christine." His words turns my face crimson. "You are so beautiful." For the first time since my father died I did feel fetching.

"So are you, my beloved." I was his turn to blush. I had been the first person to ever tell him that he wasn't a monster, gargoyle or, 'the living corpse'. To look past his unsightly face and look into his soul. It was beautiful, he created breathtaking things. His lips devoured mine with such fierce emotion. All the while his agile fingers tugged at the laces of my stays desperately. That too lay at my feet now. Erik, bright, yet mismatched eyes now stared with unveiled hunger at my breast. How the ache for his touch. Am I being risque in writing of our only night of passion? But I need to document it to prove to myself that it indeed occurred. For what seemed to be a very long time I felt my husband's hand on my breast. I gasp with pleasure, surely I was going to die from this much joy. I whimper my disappointment when he removed his hand.

"You must loose you shift." He informs me huskily. Oh flesh on flesh! I nodded my consent and agreement. The room's cool air kisses my exposed skin making me dither. Sitting up my Angel bent down to buss my bosom. I groan with acute delight close my eyes to let the new sensation wash over. Before I can protest the sudden absence of his mouth, he lavishes the same attention on its twin. Without knowing it I climb further into the bed. With strength I didn't know he possessed he brings me underneath him. Yes, now I am absolutely positive that I will die of such elation. His fist clutched at the cotton at my hips, displacing it further down my thighs. My own were not becalmed by any means, I was attempting to free him the confines of the pitch fabric trousers.