Thank you Random Day for reviewing. You are officially my favourite person right now.

As for the rest of you... Throw me a freakin' bone:) Please review, please? I don't care if you want to tell me I suck... Well, constructive critism would be preferred, since this is only my second fic, but right now I'll take what I can get!

Anyway, here's your new chappie.

XxXxX

Christine was up at dawn the next morning. She made breakfast for Raoul and Richard and worked away at mending for a little while. She sighed unhappily and stared out the window, out at the fresh, free landscape.

"This was not the kind of life I had planned on," Christine said to herself.

She noticed it was getting late and Marie-Eve still wasn't up.

"Troublesome child," she muttered. She flew to Marie-Eve's door and flung it open.

"Child, you will be late for school!" Christine declared. But she noticed that the room was empty. The bed was unmade, and the window stood wide open. Christine frowned and moved across the room to shutit, when something laying on the sill caught her eye.

A single red rose, tied with a black ribbon.

"Raoul!" Christine screamed.

Raoul came running. "What is it? What's wrong, Christine?"

Christine collapsed into his arms, sobbing. Unable to speak, she merely pointed at the rose laying innocently on the sill.

Raoul's eyes grew wide. "Where is she?" he demanded. "Where is Marie-Eve?"

"I… I… d-don't know!" Christine wailed.

"Oh, mon Dieu!" Raoul cried. "It can't be!"

"What will we do?"

Raoul was already halfway to the door. "We must inform the police!"

XxXxX

Erik had not been beneath the Opera Populaire in over ten years. He lifted Marie-Eve into the boat to cross the underground lake. Back to his old home…

Marie-Eve had slept most of the ride there. When they were close to the Opera, Erik stopped to sell his stallion for far less than what he was worth. Then it was down through the secret entrance, back to the lake…

Only Marie-Eve was awake now, and she was becoming less and less cooperative.

"What is this place? Where are you taking me?"

"Hush, child," Erik hissed. He didn't have time for this.

"I want to know where you're taking me! Either you tell me, or I'll scream!"

Erik was tempted to tell her to scream all she liked, no one would hear her down here. But he knew that if he wanted her to come with him willingly, he had to let her believe that she was in control. So he gave in.

"I'm taking you to my old home. I have not been here in many years."

"This is an odd sort of place to live in," Marie-Eve declared, taking in the massive stone carvings that loomed over them on both sides of the lake. "Does anyone else live here?"

"No."

"How come?"

"Because I like my privacy."

"How come?"

"Because I don't like people!"

"How come?"

"Because people are deceitful and treacherous, and I don't trust them!"

"If you don't like people, why are you taking me to your home?"

"Because…" Erik hesitated. "Because I… l-like you?" He tensed, waiting for her to reject him. After all, any other person would have. Who would want his affections?

But Marie-Eve simply peered up at him, studying him intensely. "Who are you?"

"I am your Angel of Music," he replied, simply.

"How come you wear that mask?"

"Well… no one is allowed to see what an angel looks like, except…" he took a deep breath, gritting his teeth against the next word, "…God…"

"Oh… well, what does an angel look like?"

"Um… very handsome!"

"Really?"

"Yes… really…"

"So do all angels live in dark places all by themselves and dislike people and wear masks?"

Erik sighed heavily. "Well, I… suppose most of us do… the important ones do anyway… listen, you ask too many questions!" It was quite clear that he was getting frustrated.

Marie-Eve remained unperturbed. "What do I call you?"

"What?"

"What's your name? Surely even angels have names! What do I call you?"

"I don't know… how about Papa?" he suggested.

"But already have a Papa."

"Yes, but I…" Erik sighed. This was going badly. He couldn't tell her the truth. She would hate him if he did. "I hope that I might become like a father to you. I… I want to be a father to you."

"Are angels allowed to be fathers?"

"Well… uh… only to… special children and, uh… people who… you know… need us to be a parent to them… do you understand?"

Marie-Eve mulled this over in her mind briefly. Then she nodded. "So it's Papa, then? Alright. How long will I stay with you?"

"As long as you wish, my child."

"Will there be music in your home?"

Erik smiled at her. "Always. And I will teach you. I will make your deepest desires come true. You have a rare gift, Marie-Eve…" How he relished speaking her name out loud! "…but you need a teacher to show you how to use it… That's why I have brought you here…"

"You will teach me?"

"I will."

"For nothing?"

"For nothing more than the pleasure of hearing you sing."

"So… so I could be a real prima donna?

"You can be anything!"

Marie-Eve was shaking with happiness. Tears of joy pricked at her eyes. "Oh, Papa! I don't know what to say!"

Erik's heart soared as he heard her utter that single word… Papa… she called him Papa! Her lovely face was lifted up to him, adoration sparkling in her beautiful little eyes. Erik suddenly understood every man he had ever seen who looked upon their daughters with pride and love, who doted upon them and gave into their every whim. At that moment, Erik was head-over-heels in love with Marie-Eve, and would have given her the world, if only he could…

At last they arrived at his lair. Everything was covered with a thick layer of dust. Marie-Eve immediately rushed to the organ and wiped the grime off of its ivory keys.

"Imagine!" she exclaimed. "An organ! Right in the home!"

Erik found an old matchbook and struck a match, lighting the dirty, grungy candelabras. Soon, the place was filled with light.

Although Marie-Eve was filled with wonder in this new world, she was not yet done interrogating Erik.

"How did you find me?"

"The Angel of Music always comes to the person who needs him the most." There. That sounded convincing.

"Did you know my parents?"

Erik hesitated. "No…"

She sat on the edge of the piano bench. "Why did you choose me?"

"Because your parents tried to keep you from music!" Erik replied, coldness creeping into his tone. "And that was wrong. That was very wrong of them. Your mother should have never ever tried to keep you from music!" He inhaled deeply, trying to control his anger, which was welling up in the pit of his stomach. "They… they don't deserve you! They could see that you were lonely and unhappy and they didn't care! They never cared! And they probably don't care that you're gone, either!"

Erik immediately regretted that last sentence. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. He was just so angry. Christine knew Marie-Eve was his and she kept her from music! How could she?

Erik slowly raised his eyes to meet Marie-Eve's gaze. Those dark pools looked so sad. So very… dismayed…

"I… I guess I… knew all along they didn't like me," she said sadly. "I just thought… maybe when I was gone… they'd realize I was there."

Erik walked over to her and cupped her cheek in his hand. "I'm sorry, my child," he said quietly. "I didn't mean everything I said. I was just… upset… Everyone deserves the right to enjoy music… The Angel gets angry when people withhold that right from those who can't fend for themselves."

Marie-Eve looked at the floor. After awhile, she gazed up at him with an eager sparkle in her eyes.

"Can we… start my lessons now?" she asked hopefully.

Erik smiled, taking a seat beside her. "Of course."

As Erik's fingers swept the keyboard, Marie-Eve was swept away to a world of unending music…

XxXxX

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