A/N: First off, I want to apologize for "Contact" somehow getting all out of order, but I believe that's all be remedied. This chapter is a bit shorter than what you all have gotten used to, and there is very little of Erik and Gia in it. Their presence is felt however. I promise they'll be back in the next installment. I hope you enjoy this, and please review. Your wonderful comments always cheer me up.

Raoul de Chagny was ensconced in his private office making arrangements for the upcoming visit to Paris with his wife when Piquet entered, bearing a letter on silver tray. It was not an uncommon occurrence, and the viscomte gestured to the servant to simply leave the note. He returned to the letter he was writing making final arrangements for the house he and Christine were going to stay in for two weeks, and only once that letter had been signed and sealed did he turn to the new correspondence. The first thing he noticed was the fine, somehow familiar stationary, and that there was no return address to reply to. It was unusual, but he turned the letter back over to look at the front of the envelope, and his heart sank.

The script was the same that he had once seen on a note addressed to him. It had warned him to stay far away from Christine because she already had a protector. From the looks of things, the Phantom had not given up his penchant for writing letters, he thought as a grimace marred his features. He assumed the man had to be dead. Wouldn't he have sought out Christine before this? Stranger still was the fact the letter was addressed to the both of them. Had the man become so arrogant that he did not fear what could happen if it was discovered he still lived?

He left the letter unopened and turned down the hallway to the nursery. He said a silent prayer to himself, hoping that Philippe and Christine were as yet unharmed. He found them together sitting on the floor, his son clapping his hands together while his mother bestowed him with one of her beatific smiles. Her expression evaporated when she saw Raoul's stern face. Christine knew her husband well enough that it meant that something was upsetting him. She rose from her position on the floor to stand at her husband's side.

As he drew her away, taking her by the elbow, the nanny moved in to take Christine's place and continue entertaining the child who was making happy noises. Raoul kept his voice low, not wanting the servant to overhear them. "Christine, I need you to come with me to my office. There is something I must show you."

It was not a request. She followed him in silence, but she had a feeling that this must somehow relate back to Erik. Raoul must have learned that he was still alive, and she must either admit that she concealed that fact from her husband or continue to lie. Once they entered the office, Raoul shut the door behind him, and she took a seat in the chair in front of the desk while he moved to the other side where there was a large leather wing chair. He tossed the letter to her, and he watched as her hands shook as she read the envelope. She clearly recognized who must have sent the letter.

"It would seem our masked friend is still alive. No doubt he is looking to make trouble for us again. I suppose I should have expected something like this would happen, after all his body was never found. But no matter, I will have him found and we will put this all behind us. I promised I would protect you from him, and the passage of time has done nothing to change that," he said to her as she turned the envelope over and over in her hands, her eyes never leaving it. "I shall contact the Paris gendarmes immediately. It's the most likely place—"

"NO! You will do no such thing Raoul. He has suffered enough for one lifetime. Can we not consign him to the past?" she pleaded with him.

"Christine, how can you say such a thing? He tried to force you to marry him! He kidnapped you in front of an entire theater and killed scores of people with that damn chandelier! How can you pity a monster like that?"

"You forget he was my greatest consolation as a child. When I thought I was all alone in the world he came to me and shared with me his music. He taught me. He was strict, but always patient and kind. I know there is much good in him," she explained. "Any evil he has ever done was because of all he has been through in his life. It is not his fault he was born less than perfect. You never knew Erik as I did."

Jealousy coursing though him he said, "Erik, is it? You never told me you were on a first name basis with him. Can you understand why I would doubt his good intentions? Cats do not change their stripes so easily, my dear."

Christine stood up, furious with her husband. How dare he speak to her in such a condescending manner? She was no longer a child to be dictated to! She shook the letter at him as she thundered at him, "How can you be so certain he has not changed? You have not even looked at his letter. The seal is still unbroken. Hear him out!"

On some level, Raoul could understand her protectiveness toward the Phantom. She had told him about how he had been a great comfort to her as a child. But it was folly for her to be so certain that he was not the same man he had been. Could her feelings for him be more than friendly? "Fine, then, I shall open his damned letter," he said snatching the letter away from her.

He broke the red seal easily, and drew out the note.

My dear Viscomte and Vicomtess,

I apologize first for any sort of disturbance this letter may have brought your household. You should know, Monsieur that I contacted your wife previously to inform her that I had returned to Paris. I am fairly certain she has not told you because the authorities have not come calling for me yet. I know this letter will probably do little to convince you otherwise, but I feel you should know that none of you: your wife, child, or yourself has anything to fear from me. I have moved on with my life.

Then, why, do you ask, am I writing to you? Dear boy, we all parted company on a rather unfortunate note. I am seeking to make amends for that before I move on to the next stage of my life. I am going to be married to Mademoiselle Gianna Burnside, and I wish to place my history with you both to rest.

No doubt you both will be attending the opening gala of Giselle, and I feel that we should meet while you are in town so we can speak with each other. Yes, boy, you as well. It is time we concluded this unfinished business. I expect a prompt reply to this letter.

I remain, as ever your obedient servant,

Erik

Once Raoul finished reading the letter he handed it to Christine to peruse. The letter certainly read like something that the Phantom would write. It was difficult for him to think of the Phantom as having a first name like everyone else. It humanized him too much. Raoul had preferred to think of the Phantom as a monster, but that was increasingly difficult if he thought about the man too much. He knew something of his tragic past, and the fact he was good to Christine when she was child would seem to indicate he was not all bad. But Raoul would never forget the tortures both physical and mental the Phantom forced him to endure.

He had watched as the masked man had nearly made love to his fiancée on stage with his less than subtle song. He had felt the rope tightening around his neck as he had threatened to kill him if Christine did not pledge herself to him. And then he had watched as Christine had kissed him, not once but twice, offering her sweet mouth and lips to him. He had thought at that moment she was lost to him forever. For that, Raoul could never completely trust a word the Phantom uttered.

When Christine finished reading the letter she set it back down on the desk. Her eyes were closed. She was preparing herself for Raoul's next verbal onslaught. But she heard his voice, surprisingly even in tone, coming across the desk.

"Christine, how long have you been writing to him?"

"It was only one letter, Raoul. It came with a packet of letters from Madame Giry and Meg. He wished us congratulations on the birth of Philippe. He told me he wanted to see me, just to talk the next time I came to town. I sent him a reply that I did not think it would be wise for us to meet because I would not be able to see him without alerting you. This was the response."

Raoul glared at his wife. "That is why you did not want to go to Paris or bring Philippe with us, isn't it? Even you do not trust him, Christine. That is enough for me to want to turn this over to the police. How can we believe this tale that he is looking to mend fences before he marries that girl? How can we know it is not a trap to lure us both in? You know it is not beyond him."

Christine looked at her husband thoughtfully, her brown eyes wide and soft. He was still uncertain that she would not leave him for Erik if they were left alone together. "Raoul, I love you and Philippe. You do not need to fear that I will leave you for Erik. I do believe you are jealous of him!" When her husband did not say anything, she interpreted his silence as confirmation. "I do care for him, and had things been different, perhaps I would be his woman. But that is not what happened. You came back into my life and that changed everything. My only great regret is the way things ended between us. I treated him dreadfully.

If you had seen his face when I returned to him to give him the ring, Raoul, then you would understand. He was so hopeful, sitting there singing to his little music box, and his face lit up when he saw me. And then he wept. He was the most pitiful creature I have ever seen. And I did that to him. That image of him has haunted me. I felt culpable for his miserable demise. For that reason, I hope to God that letter is not a lie. If he has found someone to love him, I would celebrate that. I think we should tell him we shall see him."

He found it nearly impossible to contradict his wife. Christine was generally a woman of few words. She preferred to express emotions with her eyes or through song. Since their marriage, she had rarely spoken of the Phantom or her feelings for him in detail. No doubt because she knew he would be jealous. "Tell me the truth, Christine, did you ever love him? I saw the way you were together on stage that night. You were not acting." Raoul flinched slightly on his next words, "He—he aroused you."

Christine bridged the gap between them, hugging him close, "Oh Raoul, you must understand that at the time I had no idea what I was feeling. My body wanted him, but my heart was yours from the night we went to the rooftop of the Opera Populaire. I was terribly confused. I knew I had to make a choice, but either one would mean betraying one of you."

Relief coursed though him as she made her confession. She loved him! He often forgot just how young she was. She had matured so much in the last two years that the girl of those trying times seemed far in the past, but she was only eighteen years old. He held her close and gave her an affectionate kiss on the top of her head. "Do you really think he could be telling the truth about him and Mademoiselle Burnside? We only spent that one evening with her, and although she was very pleasant company, I cannot imagine he would transfer his affections for you to her so quickly. She is quite different from you."

Christine laughed quietly, and turned her face up to look at her husband. Sometimes the man could be rather in the dark about matters of the heart. "I think it's all to the good she is nothing like me. What Erik felt for me was obsession. Lust. He was desperate to bring an end to his loneliness. He was in love with an image of me that did not truly exist. What he feels for Mademoiselle Burnside could very well be love. I am not one to pry into the nature of his soul. I would certainly like to believe it, for his sake. He should not be alone."

Raoul marveled at her empathy for the Opera Ghost. Her good memories of him certainly overrode those less than pleasant ones. He would give the man one chance to prove himself. "For you, my darling, I am willing to see the Phantom, but I am not so foolish as to confront him unarmed. If at any time I feel our safety is in jeopardy I will not hesitate to kill him. I will not allow him to threaten our family," he vowed.

"I understand, Raoul. I shall write to him and say that we will see him. I think we should see him before the gala, don't you? Since we are going in to town mid-week we can see him before Friday evening. I shall send the letter to Mademoiselle Burnside. If she is his fiancée as he says, she will convey our message to him."

"I shall leave you to arrange the details then," he said. He was glad to have escaped the conversation without having to reveal that at one point he had read the letter she sent to Madame Giry and Meg hoping to learn why she had been playing cloak and dagger with those letters a couple of weeks ago. He had never guessed that the letter he should have opened was the one to Mademoiselle Burnside. In one respect, the Phantom had not changed. If she was his new obsession, that would explain how a woman of her age had come to be cast in the ballet. Hopefully this production would not turn out like the ill-fated Don Juan Triumphant. He was unwilling as yet to believe that Mademoiselle Burnside could be involved with the Phantom of her free will. And if for some reason she was, he would explain to her she was making a terrible mistake. Like Christine, she had grown up quite sheltered, and no doubt he had used his charms on her as well.

Raoul gave Christine a kiss on her cheek and she left his office, most likely to adjourn to the day room where she would compose the letter to the Phantom telling him they were coming. It was going to be difficult to keep his promise to Christine that he would allow her to make all the arrangements.

He would have Piquet bring him her letter before it was delivered.

It was a lovely spring day, and Christine wanted to take a walk around her gardens before she turned to the task of writing to Erik. She was quite excited at the prospect of seeing Erik again. Raoul would be with her, so there was nothing to fear. Raoul would see that Erik was not the same man he had been. Love changed people. It had changed her. The fact she had written to him more than a week ago, and he had yet to write her any sort of response would seem to indicate he was preoccupied with something or someone other than herself. For that reason, she could believe that he truly was courting Gianna Burnside.

Christine suspected that Raoul would rather die than spend an evening chatting with Erik and that he was only doing this to humor her. She understood his insistence that they not see him without some form of protection, and in truth, she was grateful Raoul was an excellent swordsman and shot. There was the possibility this was all a ruse, and she had to be careful to remind herself that Erik could not be completely trusted.

His letter had sounded so like him. She could hear his voice in her ears as her eyes had drunk in the words on the white page. She walked past the rose bushes which would not bloom for at least another month, and thought about the blood red roses he had once given her. Did he give them to Gia as well? Was she his lover? She silently berated herself for her thoughts. If her husband could hear them, he would think she was envious. She was more curious than anything. How exactly had they become involved? Had she known him before she had gone to dinner with them?

She followed the brick path back to the house and had one of the housemaids fetch her some stationary, a fountain pen, and some ink so she could write the letter. At first, she merely stared at the pages, unsure of how to begin, but once she began writing the words flowed easily onto the page.

Dear Erik,

I must say your letter to Raoul and I caught us both off guard. I did not expect that you would ever contact him directly. I could tell he was not pleased to learn that you are alive and that you had been in contact with me. However, I believe I have been able to convince my husband that we can safely meet with you next week. I told him that I know you are a good man, Erik. Please do not disappoint or make a liar out of me.

We are coming to Paris on Tuesday next, and if you do not have plans for Thursday evening we can meet after the dinner hour. I know you eschew public places for the most part, and although I'm sure Raoul would prefer we meet somewhere public, I think it is best if we speak somewhere we can have some privacy. I suggest we speak in Mademoiselle Burnside's room. That will give us sufficient privacy, but should alleviate any of my husband's concerns about our safety. It will also give us the opportunity to see her again. We quite enjoyed her company at dinner a few weeks ago.

I would also like to congratulate you on your upcoming nuptials with Mademoiselle Burnside. As pleased as I was to learn that you had not died two years ago, I am even more heartened to hear that you have found someone to love you. I hope that once we all have the chance to speak, things can be settled between us. I know I have my regrets about what happened. I think it will be good for us to put things out in the open.

If this is agreeable to you, you should send your next letter to: Foucault House, 35 Rue des Fleurs, Paris. That is the address we shall be staying at while we are in town. I hope you appreciate the level of trust I am putting in you by giving you this information.

Sincerely,

Christine de Chagny

With a final stroke of her pen, she signed the letter and addressed the envelope. As she had forgotten to ask for materials to seal the envelope with, she instructed Piquet to do so when she handed him the letter. After making a quick trip down to the kitchen to see how dinner was coming, Christine went back to the nursery to spend the rest of the day with Philippe. She was unaware that just down the hall, her husband was reading the note with great interest.

In less than a week, they would all be transported back two years to revisit the moments that had broken one man, brought exultation to another, and profound guilt and confusion to the woman they both loved.