Meanwhile, back at the Vicomte de Chagney Mansion.

Raoul sat quietly, sitting in a chair by the fireplace that wasn't lit. He fingered a small piece of paper in his hands and sat there as if in deep thought. Finally, he threw the paper unto the floor in anger as he rose from the chair and called his servant, Nicoletta, and began to instruct her, "I want the horses ready for a small journey I plan to make tonight. Tell Alfonso to be ready by eight." "Yes sir" the small girl replied and left the room to make the arrangements. "She will be my wife." He uttered to no one in particular as he readied to change into his travel attire.

Back at the basement of the Opera.

Watching him had become her hobby. He was so beautiful, even without his mask, she just could not fathom why he had never had been shown compassion or love. For the last hour they had enjoyed constant singing and creation of songs, and now it was clear that he could almost believe her. Christine studied the Phantom and thought about his life. Shall I always call him Phantom or Angel or nothing at all? He must have a proper name with which I could address him.

Stewing on this matter had lasted long enough. She walked over to the man who was now pressing notes onto a paper while sitting at the organ. He looked up at her in her sudden arrival. "Angel, you must have a name. Please, do you have a name, and may I be the one to call you it?" Christine gazed at him. She knew she was being pretty rude, but at the moment it didn't matter to her. She was desperately curious. The Phantom turned away and walked down the steps into his room with the swan, sat down in a chair and held the monkey music box in his hands, brushing over the material and thinking to himself about what she had just asked.

"I don't think that I ever deserved a name." He began, and her heart was sore for his words, "My mother had abandoned me soon after my birth, and I found myself with the gypsies. But before she sent me away, I saw the sad look in her eyes as she whispered in agony to herself, ' Erik would never want this, this creature to be named after himself. Take him away' So there I was named. I took the name of my father anyway, for it was what I was going to be called. So, yes, Christine, I have a name. It's Erik."

"Oh, Erik!" She cried with the sad story and she embraced him, but he was stiff this time. She pulled away. "Mademoiselle, you are still engaged, and I cannot consent your behavior."

His sudden rejection of her shocked the girl out of her mind. What is he talking about? "We talked about this already, Erik, and I am no longer his bride to be. You know that." He shook his head, "But I cannot hold you, cannot touch you without this feeling in the back of my mind that this is but a game to you." She stared at him; "This is not a game for me, Erik. It is as real for me as it is for you. I did make my leaving the count known. I left him a letter, stating I had gone to England to enter the convent. In thinking of your safety I didn't bother to tell him that I had left him for you."

"Thinking of his opinion of you, you did not tell him." The Phantom replied.

"No, Erik, my angel. Please. Do not think of me so superficial. I am here with you now aren't I. And though no one knows now, it doesn't mean I won't tell them, when we are safe from the Vicomte. You know how he tried to kill you the last time you fought. And I couldn't bear it if you had killed another man because it burdens you as well as me. And all of France would be looking for you once more. Please," She touched his face with her hand, "Don't think I don't love you."

"But how could-" He began, but she put her finger to his mouth, "Shhh….don't do this to yourself. I love you, and that's all that matters." She kissed him lightly and turned in for the night.

Back at the Changy Mansion

"The horses are ready sir." Alfonso informed his master. "Good, Alfonso, then we'll be on our way. The driver got in the seat in front, and his master boarded the carriage. "Where to sir?" The vicomte spat, "Westminster Abbey" The driver looked at him as if he was crazy, "But, but sir-Westminster Abbey is more than a week's journey from here." "Then we better get started. We will rest at taverns on the way, Alfonso, and the horses will get their rest." The driver shook his head and started the horses, and they traveled into the distance oblivious to truth.

Sorry once again this is so short, but again I like to update faster for your happiness. Please, I am open to all suggestions and please review. If you want to e-mail with ideas or info that I've missed, etc. Please do so. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Aeropostale Fanatic