A/N: Wow, the first chapter gota grand total of...zero reviews. I really like writing this story, but if I don't get any reviews, I'll probable just leave it in a notebook. shrug / Well, thischapter jumps a few years in the middle, without thorough explanation -it didn't seem to flow. Fair warning here, if it doesn't make sense, let me know I shall change it. Also, I usually write short chapters, so they will most likely start to decrease in size. shrug Anyways, enjoy!

Chapter Two: In Sleep He Sang To Me

"Christine Daae, mon beau," Christine sat up in bed, startled, from the abrupt interruption of her wandering thoughts. A soft chuckle. "Have I frightened you, child?"

"Oh," Christine smiled and sighed with relief, "It's you, my angel. I would never be frightened of you." She rested her head back on her pillow. "You sent that note to Madam Giry earlier today, did you not?"

"Indeed."

"How come?" The Phantom smiled.

"Two reasons, my sweet. It is a far lovelier room than another she might have put you in, being a young and untrained ballerina, yourself. Also, I have a far easier access to this room than others." This delighted, yet confused Christine. She wondered why, as an angel, he would not be able to go anywhere he pleased.

"Master, do you have a figure then? Are you a person or a spirit? I'm afraid I don't quite understand you."

"Well, my dear, you understand me better than anyone else, so be content. You have asked enough questions for one night. We have only met today, remember." Christine's eyes slightly widened at this realization.

"It seems like centuries. As if you know everything about me already." They sat in silence for a few minutes before Christine spoke again, still sure that her angel was present. "Will you sing me to sleep, Ange de Musique?"

"Of course. I believe you start ballet training tomorrow, do you not? I prefer you be well rested." He could not rid himself of the smile that had taken his face, as it not had in so many years.

"I do. Thank you, Anguhhh" she interrupted herself with a yawn, followed by a giggle of her distorted words. "Angel, Master, Friend." He simply smiled silently and began to sing.

"Angel of Music, I will guard you,

I'll stay by your side, guide you,

Child, I'll be as your protector,

Stay with your strange angel."

Christine's eyes had fallen shut, and she stirred not, but he continued, waiting for sleep to overtake her completely.

"I am your Angel, Trust in your Angel of Music,

I am your Angel of Music, Trust in your Angel of Music."

He sang until his precious and innocent new friend's breaths grew long and even, and her face was peaceful, and he turned from her blind love and childlike beauty to return to his dark hell. He was content though. He had finally found a friend. She trusted in him, with a naiveness only a child could possess, and he loved her. A vow he made right then to himself: he would never let the child see his face. His mask even. 'My mask would frighten her, or at least pique her curiosity. If she ever removed it, well she would hate me forever. Once again, I would have no one. A feeling which becomes unbearable.' He knew that someday, the girl's blind love would become more difficult through age, and she would not trust as easily of her angel which she could not see. He decided to not worry about these things for the time being though. He promised himself, that he would never let her endure any pain or sadness. He had been through all of the loneliness and despair in the world, and he wanted not his innocent child friend to go through any of it. 'I shall protect her, always.'

Christine heard her heart pounding in her ears, her blood racing through her veins, coursing fright through every bone as she ran up and down a long, damp, and dark hallway. The floor was wet and muddy, with rats and God knows what insects scurrying about, and the stone walls radiated a wet heat that made it hard to breathe, especially when Christine was panting anyway. She was running with all her might from something - or to something. She had no idea. She couldn't stop herself. By this time, she didn't know which direction she had come from, or which she should be going in, and the confusion and fear was building inside her, ready to burst as she burning tears streamed down her face. The rotten smelling stone hallway was growing increasingly darker, and Christine screamed as a rat ran across her foot. She stopped and stood motionless as a state of panic began to rush through her bones, and she was about to burst into hysterics. She began to cry out for someone, but she didn't know who. She wanted someone to love her and hold her and tell her that everything was going to be alright, but there was no one to be seen. Suddenly, a sense of calm rushed through her when she felt a pair of strong and loving arms wrap around her from behind, and she felt his breath on her ear as he whispered the words that she needed.

"Your angel is with you, my dear, you are not alone." As he spoke those words through the sleeping child's mirror to her, the thrashing in her bed ceased. What had drawn him back to her though, was her crying out, which had ceased with her tossing and kicking, but a painful look was upon her face that the Phantom couldn't bear to look at, and her breathing was heavy, fast, and uneven. He began to sing to her.

"Angel of Music, your protector,

Here by your side, always,"

Christine could still feel her Angel's breath on her face as he sang to her softly, comforting her with his resonant voice, more beautiful than any she had heard before. She turned to embrace him, burying her face in his chest, unable to see his face, but he continued singing.

"Christine, I will not forsake you,

Stay with your strange angel."

As he sang the last few words, the girl's fear diminished, and it was visible on her face, so he turned away from her and left, just as he had every night since she had arrived He liked the feeling of being able to sing the girl's fears and nightmares into non-existence, and being able to be her comfort and freedom, as no one had ever loved him or trusted in him before. The fact that he loved this child and she loved him, that he could ease her fears with merely the sound of his voice, slowed, but not ceased, the madness that was slowly overtaking him. He was the most brilliant man, possibly, of his time, but the lack of human companionship, contact, and love, paired with the underground darkness that he lived in, could leave no man sane.

The dank hallway had disappeared around Christine and her faceless angel. When she brought her head up, they were in the most beautiful and peaceful place that she could imagine. Green meadows surrounded them, a clear stream and calm animals added to the charm of the scene.

"Mon amour," Her angel still embraced her.

"Christine. Christine!" Her angel was gone.

"Meg?"

"Yes, Christine, it's me. It's time to wake up now, get dressed for practice!" Christine groaned and pushed her covers back. A she made her bed, he mind went back to the dream that she had. It was different that all the others, but one common theme arose in every dream that she had since she had come to live at The Opera Populaire, almost 3 years ago: she was in distress, and her angel held her and sang away her problems. She was sang to sleep every night by him, and in her dreams, he was there. They would talk for hours during the day, when she wasn't immersed in her strict ballet schedule. At merely 9 years old, the youngest dancer besides Meg, whom was a year younger than her, she had become a talented dancer, for only 3 years of training. Meg exceeded her in skill, but the two of them were at the level of their elder dancers. She had grown fairly close to Meg, and even closer to the Phantom. She told Meg much; she told her Angel almost everything. She wanted to be a ballerina and singer, for her mother and father; that she told no one. She cried often for her father; only her angel knew of that, because he saw, and he comforted her. Whenever tears fell from her eyes, her walls echoed with his beautiful voice that so entranced her.

Finally, Christine was dressed and ready for practice. She scanned her room to make sure it was tidy before she left, and walked out of the door. Ballet was strict and demanding, not to mention quite difficult, especially keeping up with those almost 10 years her elders, but Christine adored it. She felt it made her Mother and Father proud. Her mother had died during Christine's infancy, and she was always intrigued by stories and thoughts of her, but she never understood the true pain of death until her best friend and confidant had left her forever. 'At least he has sent me my Angel of Music,' she thought and smiled.

In addition to ballet, she desperately wanted to sing. To faites musique, for both of her parents. No one knew that secret either. Christine was sure she would keep it as that; a secret, but was not sure if she wanted to. 'Enough of these thoughts, Christine.' she scolded herself, 'Focus on practice now.'

Practice, though, the first twenty minutes or so anyhow, always consisted of la Carlotta whining about whatever she had chosen to complain about on that particular day. On this particular day, Christine found this extremely boring, and was at a loss of thoughts to entertain herself, and began to look around. She let her 9-year-old eyes drift upward, and she was sure she saw a dark caped figure rush out of sight as soon as she saw it, but after he was gone, seemed so unreal.

"I tol' you! I tol' you, I tol' you, I tol' you!" Carlotta's poor accent and whining tone snapped Christine's attention back down, to where all the other dancers stood in position, and Carlotta faced her, screaming. "I tol' you ballet dancer, too young! Leetle leetle girl, pay no attention! Get in position, toad!" Christine blushed at the diva's outburst at her - she had never addressed her directly, and so she joined the other girls without a word.

"Oh, Angel, it was so humiliating! She yelled at me, just because I was looking around! But I saw-" The girl fell silent, remembering what she saw, and who she suspected it was. The Phantom knew that she had seen him, but acted as if he didn't. 'Possible she didn't realize it was me,' he reasoned.

"Saw what, Christine?"

"May I ask you something, Angel? Well, two things actually."

"Of course, my dear."

"Are you a man? A person, I mean. Or are you just a voice, a spirit? I still do not understand." He sighed.

"Yes Christine. What you are getting at I mean. It was me that you had seen today. I was watching over you, as always." Christine grinned.

"May I see you then?"

"No," came the sharp reply, barely letting her finish her sentence, in a dark tone that Christine did not recognize from her angel. She looked at the floor.

"I'm- I'm sorry. I just..." her voice trailed off.

"No, my dear. I'm sorry, just...no." She was disappointed by his reply, but happy that she recognized his voice once again. She remained silent. "What was your other question, Christine, darling?"

"Oh!" She had forgotten, in her embarrassment. "I was wondering," she hesitated, slightly frightened by his outburst at her last question of his identity. "Well, do you have a name?"

"My dear, you address me as Angel, Master, Friend, Phantom, Opera Ghost, anything that you see fit. Why would I need another?"

"Oh, I see..." Christine replied, although she really didn't.

A/N: Ok, yes! Chapter 2! Hopefully all that transitioning through time, and Christine's point of view in her dream vs. the Phantom's point of view in her dream wasn't all too confusing.

Oh, yeah:

Mon beau - my beautiful

Ange de Musique - Angel of Music

Faites Musique - make music

I don't know why I like to put these French words in here. It seems nice when addressing someone endearingly, but the 'make music' one seemed like she was preserving something her father had said to her. shrug

Review, review, review! PLEASE.