Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. I shouldn't have to say who does.

AN - BACK! Okay, so I worked alot this week so it took me a little while. It's weird how all the reviews didn't go away after I took the story down... weird...shrugs oh well. Here's a revamped chapter two! Lavender! Email me... Remember the days? Remember Fordgirl? I still talk to her. Man... Remember my website? lol...

Chapter Two: Give up forever

"Who was that shape
in the shadows?
Whose is the face
in the mask?"

Before the next nightfall, Erik had found a small neglected cabin about a kilometer from the Vicomte's estate. While he went through it, he found old gardening tools causing him to believe that it was probably an old gardening shed for the mansion. With a little work, he could do something with it, but what he found to be the most pleasing aspect of it was how, if he just used his opera glasses, he could make out the figures walking around the house. Even still, during the day, he came down to where the road and ridge of forest met and sat among the trees and watched.

Before the first fall of snow, the cabin was suitable and cozy enough that he could live there peacefully. Little by little, he had gone into town and bought clothing and furniture for the small place. It was a good thing that he had managed to retrieve his purse before escaping, or he would have been in a terrible position he realized.

He began a constant routine of getting up in the morning, eating, leaving his small residence, and then getting close enough he could to the chateau to watch Christine, as though her life was some interesting opera that just had to be viewed in entirety. He would watch for hours until it grew to cold or late and he would return to his humble and cramped dwellings. Nonetheless, Christine had developed bit of a routine herself. Everyday around two in the afternoon she would go for a ride on the black stallion, he had decided to name Midnight. When she first began her ride, she would always just begin a trot, but when she was sure no one was around to notice, pick up the pace and have the horse gallop wildly off into the distance. Her hair was always down, flowing long tresses down her back making her quite a remarkable sight. He would wait on her return, which was usually an hour later, noticing she always seemed content and rejuvenated. Sometimes she was even a little flushed, as though she had some forbidden release on her journey.

Other than that he noticed that the boy took wonderful care of her and they were, much to his resentment, happy. It ate away at him to see such simplicity that he would never have. A wife who loved him, a family in the future, and what was a lovely home that was above ground. That was not God had intended for him, if there was even a God. No, he was cursed and blessed all in one, a normal life, for genius. As he would watch them picnic in their immense backyard, and he could see that if he couldn't have her, then Raoul was the perfect second. He treated her like a goddess as he did, even if he didn't challenge her to explore herself beyond simplicity and expectations, as he had done.

"I mustn't criticize." He thought begrudgingly to himself. It wasn't worth it knowing that she was indeed happy with her Vicomte.

If Erik had only known that the Vicomte and soon to be Vicomtess were in extreme danger, he would of stepped out of the shadows he often preferred and offered what little help he could of given.

-
(' ) '
-

"Think of me,
think of me fondly,
when we've said
goodbye.
Remember me
once in a while -
please promise me
you'll try."

"Christine, I have to go away again." Raoul told her as they sat in our backyard watching the light dwindle away into darkness.

"Oh Raoul, Again?" She asked saddened, for she did not like it when he left. Whenever he was around, she truly was blissful, with not a care in the world. Once he left and she was alone, she found it gave her time to think upon haunted memories. No matter how far she pushed them into the depths of her soul they always returned.

"Yes my love. It has to do with an investment I made. I'm withdrawing my services from a company. Not that this should matter to you love. However, on the moment of my return we shall be Wed. Please trust in this, and think of it on the nights I'm away." He said kissing her.

She smiled at his kindness. "Alright love, however, promise to be home as soon as possible." She added.

"I promise." He said kissing her again.

(' ) '
-

"Fear can turn to love
you'll learn to see, to find the man
behind the monster: this . . .
repulsive carcass, who
seems a beast, but secretly
dreams of beauty,
secretly . . .
secretly . . .

Yet, Christine did not think of Raoul's return, or their marital bliss upon his return. Instead, she thought of the many enchanted nights she had spent with her dark angel, her enticing Phantom.

"Erik... tell me a story..." Christine pleaded. She had accompanied him for supper of wine and bread for the last few weeks, since the mask 'incident' had taken place. Since the Gala, and her enormous success, they both had expected her to be replacing Carlotta, only to find that the managers were completely against her return to the stage. Christine thought it was possible that Piangi had something to do with it as well, that it was possible he told the managers that if Carlotta were to go, then he would be gone as well. Christine could replace Carlotta, but she could not sing the both leading parts!

Things had indeed been tense between her and her teacher, he had come to her after her rest and their first encounter. She awoke to see him standing at her vanity tracing the outlines of a note she had carelessly left out and that he had given her. All she could see was the pristine white mask and his impeccable grooming, leaving her a little light headed and warm. When he had realized she was awake, he turned to her, and she saw something flash in his eyes.

Desire maybe? Perhaps it was infatuation? Whatever it had been, it receded into the depths of his facade and the cool collected man that had brought her down to his kingdom below returned.

"Erik please... a story?" she inquired. She was trying to brighten the atmosphere, have him stop musing over whatever was making his face look so tragic. She had listened to his ever command since she was a small child, and although she mildly resented his betrayal, she had learned that half of her still did not care that he was not a real angel. After she removed his mask and he had unleashed his anger on her, he had retreated back into himself only asking her to obey two wishes. She was to 1) Never speak of his mask or what lie beyond it again, let alone remove it. And 2) she was to not allow Raoul to affect her training as the new Prima Donna for the Opera Populaire.

She found the first to be a given, after realizing what the mask had been hiding... her poor Erik, how she pitied his face, his loathing. But she found the second request almost impossible to grant. Ever since Raoul had heard her sing, he had been inquiring for her on a daily basis. He often left roses, notes and requests to share time with her. To appease Erik, and to grant his request, the only real way to avoid Raoul's advances was to spend her evenings with her teacher, which was turning out rather well.

Except for the undeniable tension that was between them sometimes. In which, Christine would always find him staring at her intently, or she would feel heat rush from one place on her body to another. This was what was happening now; this was why she was so desperate for him to speak.

"A story Christine, what, dare I ask, are you in the mood for hearing?" He asked quietly, giving into her simple request.

"Oh anything lovely and tragic. I merely wish to hear you speak... Silence can be wonderful, but to fill it with a voice as yours would be a gift."

"Silence Christine, is a form of music itself... depending on how you listen." he responded, confusing her and making her even more uncomfortable.

Just when she thought he was going to take her home or send her to her room, he spoke again.

"Something, with love perhaps?" He asked her.

"Oh yes! I do love a tragic love story." Christine smiled, glad that he finally was willing to talk to her.

"How about Beauty and the Beast, by de Beaumont? " He asked her.

"I have heard of the tale, but never actually known what it is about, will you tell it to me, angel?" She asked him.

He smiled, but it was a sad smile, one that she had seen before, and the one that she had been so intent to get rid of. Before she could protest, he began to recite the story, as if he knew it off by heart.

"There was once a very rich merchant, who had six children, three sons, and three daughters..."

Her Erik.

Was it wrong she had never told Raoul of the time they had spent before he had killed Bouquet? She did not know. She saw no point now, since she had indeed chosen Raoul over her angel of music. Still, she felt guilty, as though she had betrayed both of them in ways she could not describe.

"This is absolutely silly! I cannot keep doing this to myself!" She said shoving her face into the pillow on the other side of her bed. Erik was gone, most likely dead from the mob, and even if he did escape them, he surely wasn't going to return to face more torture she was accustomed to dealing out to him.

Would she forever feel that she had let down the man behind the monster, or her own beast? He had once told her that fear could turn to love. Was that what she was experiencing now?

She got up and paced the long corridors of the large house. Raoul had insisted that she should stay with Mme Giry and Meg while he was away the first time he had ever taken a night trip. However, Christine would hear nothing of it, she was determined to prove to everyone she wasn't the child they all thought she was and the only was she was going to do that was by becoming a wonderful wife and mother.

(' ) '
-

"When you find
that, once again, you long
to take your heart back and be free
- if you ever find
a moment,
spare a thought for me"

He watched as the Vicomte ascended into a carriage that awaited him while Christine stood outside it watching Raoul intently. Erik watched as he leant out the window and Christine blew him a kiss. Slowly the carriage began to move away from her and she wrapped her shawl closer to her small body. She stood that way for some time, staring off in the direction in which Raoul had left, watching the twilight turn to darkness.

That's odd, Erik thought to himself, if it where I who won such a treasure, I would not be leaving her alone so early.

Oh, how he wanted to go down to her. There was an ache inside him, which could simply be quelled by pressing her body to his own. He had found warmth in her small caresses that filled him with such satisfaction and relief. He had never really realized how starved he was for it until he had a small taste of its joys. Now he craved it like a mad addiction. Find a way into the house and just watch her quietly. His mind whispered to him. Erik reasoned with himself, justifying this action by telling himself that he didn't want to harm or touch a hair on her head, just admire her from as close as he could. It took ever power of his will to stay away.