A/N: Some of you have really been concerned about the issue of the envelope. I think your questions will be answered in this chapter.

erikfan – Wow. With all the talented writers on this site, your review from Ch. 10 is really a tremendous compliment. Thank you!

Ch. 30 - Divine Intervention

Back in his own room, Erik was pacing furiously. His body was still on fire from the events nearly an hour before. Damn her! He knew he still wanted her, he knew he still loved her, and he knew without a doubt that now more than ever he wanted her in his life. So why was he pushing her away? Erik ran a weary hand through his hair. He knew the answer: he was afraid. Throwing himself down on to the sofa, he laughed scornfully at himself. Imagine! The mighty Phantom of the Opera frightened into hiding by a twenty-year-old girl that he could break in two with his bare hands.But she had a power that he couldn't deny. Even after all these years, she held his heart and soul in her hands. And it would be so much easier to send her away in anger than to open himself up to loving her freely and risking all the pain of her ultimate rejection if she were to choose to leave him once again.

He sat up dropping his head in his hands and staring into the darkness. A tiny voice inside him whispered, but what if she chose to stay this time? With everything in his heart he wanted to believe all that she had told him tonight. Her eyes had held no uncertainty and no deception. She had come to him of her own free will and offered herself to him. But she had done that once before, he remembered - the kiss beneath the Opera Populaire. She had offered herself then too, only to return the ring she had slipped on her finger moments before and sail away with the vicomte. He rubbed his temples. God! If he only knew her words spoke the truth, that she wouldn't change her mind this time, he would fly down the hallway to her room right now, professing his love.

Standing to pace the room once more, he sighed. But there was no way to be certain of her intentions. She was asking him to take a leap of faith, and he was not certain he could survive the fall if his faith proved ill-founded.

As he turned to pour himself a brandy from the bottle on the table, his foot kicked something. Erik bent down and retrieved a cream-colored envelope from the floor. He remembered vaguely tucking it in his coat pocket the day before when he had retrieved the post from his former residence. He had meant to open it that night, but realized it must have slipped out of his pocket. Pouring himself the brandy, he picked up a silver letter opener from the desk and sat down in the firelight to read it. Any distraction from tonight's confusing events was most welcome and he carefully removed the letter spreading it out on the table before him, beginning to read.

Monsieur,

We do not know one another, but I am writing to you concerning a woman for whom we share a common concern, one who is like an adopted daughter to me, Mademoiselle Christine Daae. For the past three years, Christine has been a guest in my home, and during that time, she has taken me into her confidence on numerous occasions. Normally, I would not consider betraying her confidence, but in this case, I felt that it was in her best interest to do so.

On several such occasions, Christine confided to me details concerning a very special relationship that existed between her and a man whom she referred to simply as her "Angel." On one night in particular, I was privileged to witness a very private conversation between Christine and this man, although he himself was not present. On that night, Christine believed her Angel had died and was in such a state of distress, I thought it best not to leave her alone. Thinking I was asleep, Christine spent many hours writing a letter which she then proceeded to read aloud, directing her voice heavenward and praying to God that her words might reach her Angel to whom they were directed. As the words were meant for no one else, she then dropped her letter into the fireplace to be destroyed. Unbeknownst to her, I later rescued it, believing it a certain sin to allow such honest and powerful words to be so carelessly discarded. I have kept them all these years, not knowing what purpose they would serve until I received word recently that Christine's Angel was indeed alive and I was given information that allowed me to locate him. Now that I have found you, Monsieur Angel, I entrust Christine's honest words to you, as it was for you they were meant.

I do not know all that transpired between you and Christine. I do not claim to know what misunderstandings have kept you apart. What I do know, monsieur, is that whatever they may be, they are not worth giving up a love such as the one I have been witness to. I have watched as the power and beauty of this rare devotion gave Christine the courage to love one man faithfully from beyond the grave for over three years. And I believe she would have continued to do so in content until the end of her days, had I not chosen to reveal to her that you were indeed alive. Such a love comes but once in a lifetime, monsieur, if at all.

And so now, Angel, I leave you with two great gifts. Enclosed, you will find Christine's letter. If you have any doubts as to the sincerity of my words or the feelings of her heart, I feel certain its contents will lay them all to rest. Secondly, I leave in your care the most precious gift of all, the heart of my beloved Christine. Treat it well, Angel, for there is not another of its equal in all the world.

In approximately three days following your receipt of this letter, Christine will return to you. (Do not be afraid if it is longer. I fear it may take her a day or two to gather her courage.) I beg you, do not turn her away. She needs you, Angel.

With sincerest wishes for your future happiness,

Madame Elsa Alexandra Valerius

With a trembling hand, Erik reached inside the envelope, pulling out several folded sheets of worn paper. His eyes widened in amazement as he stared at the scorched edges and instantly recognized Christine's own neat hand.