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Well, here it is, the last chapter. I hope everyone liked reading it as much as I liked writing it. Thanks again to anyone who reviewed! Enjoy!

Chapter 5 - Music. Sweet. Beautiful. Music.

Weighing her thoughts and words more carefully than she had ever done in her life, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Exhaling slowly she opened them and began to speak.

"That was a long time ago, Erik. People change. I've changed." Christine still had Erik's hand in her own. She began the massage again while her explanation continued. "We were but only children then. I do believe that is how I shall always see Raoul, even now, as the childhood friend I once had. I have grown since then and a boy does not interest me any longer and when I do marry it will be, most certainly, not with one."

As she spoke she searched deep in his eyes, no longer cold but aflame with something she had never seen there before. The intensity in his view caused her to look away back at his hands. Both hands were such fascinating works of art. She abandoned his right hand in favor for his left one. She looked down at the ring less finger on his left hand. Her favorite appendage, she suddenly decided, out of all the other fingers, was his left ring finger. Christine could imagine the gold band adorned on his finger, beautifying it more so than the other nine.

Looking back at him she finished her thought still holding his ring finger. "Raoul was from a time in my life that no longer exists." Christine seemed to look past Erik recalling distant memories long forgotten. Some were happy. Others still painful to recollect like the death of her father, and being left alone in the world. Raoul seemed to bring back these buried recollections best left abandoned. She went on, "I have a new life now." Christine was astounded by her action, she couldn't believe she had actually given his hand a light squeeze then. As if her own hands had a mind of their own. However the look Erik gave her, after feeling her fingers wrap around his ring finger, was a knowing one.

She had noticed his eyes drift to his marriage finger and she promptly began working on the next digit. "It's funny you know." She stated.

He was visibly calming once again "What is, Mon belle précieux l'un?"

"Well it is true that Raoul and I were friends that summer years ago before I had ever known you, but you've known me since then up to now, for years. If you think about it, I do believe you know me better than he ever has, and I just met you the night before last. He knew me as Little Lottie who liked riddles and frocks and picnics in the attic. You know my life is here, in this opera house, on stage and singing. I am Little Lottie no longer, but a young woman with hopes and dreams that are being fulfilled now, here. Don't you agree?"

"How could I argue with that line of reasoning, my dear."

Silence filled the candle lit music room once again. Erik went back to resting his head on the high back of the wing chair and closing his eyes. She could feel him relaxing once again under her touch. Happy that she had done the task she originally set out to accomplish, all she had left to do was wait and hope in time he would forgive her. All of a sudden she heard him speak two words that made her sigh with relief.

"Your forgiven."

Once he uttered those words that sounded as magnificent as one of Erik's compositions, she to began to relax. Despite the fact that she was the one giving the massage, mainly for Erik's enjoyment, and doing all the work, Christine was now also able to enjoy the soothing motions her hands were performing. His hands were strong and warm. A smile came to her face remembering the way they caressed the pipe organ, persuading it to produce the breathtaking melodies that came from the instrument with the gentlest touch. His music was of the most magnificent ever heard. Everything he had in him he used when playing. Oh, but the way he played was where you could see the love pour out through his fingers and onto the keyboard, his hands fitting so well as if they were a part of this instrument.

"How?" The minuets of silence were once again obliterated with the utterance of her one spoken word.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand. 'How' what?"

Not meaning to vocalize her thought, and certainly not thinking he would hear her once it did slip out. She could faintly hear what she had said. Deciding to confess her innermost thoughts to him, she said, "How do you do it? Not just composing, but the way you play is just as fascinating to watch as it is to hear. Your hand are doing this complex and elaborate ballet known only unto themselves and never to be duplicated by any other extremities. If you were to never speak again, I would now what you were saying by the language, the depth of emotion that your hands speak ever so clearly. If I were to never hear again, I know I could still feel and hear the music simply by watching your hands. How do you play with so much passion and sentiment. Does it not exhaust you to perform the way you do? How do you do it, Erik? How?"

A look of amazement overcame his features as he marveled at her. Slowly before she had known what had happened, he held her hands in his. His mouth hung ever so slightly open, lips parted. She could feel his warm breath, as his head descended from the chair coming closer to her, it became labored. His eyes were ablaze, burning as strong as a wildfire in the middle of a summers drought. Filled with what she had seen earlier, then not knowing what that look was before, now she was becoming much more certain what it was, because she too was returning the all-consuming torrid gaze.

He surveyed her as if searching for answers to his unspoken questions. Just what was he looking for, she wondered. Did he doubt what she said? He was so deep in thought, she could see him fighting an inner battle. Finally his eyes softened somewhat, as if the battle was over, a decision made.

Christine leaned nearer to him, and Erik moved even closer to her, a small amount of space separated them. Her heart pounding so loudly in her ears, she was afraid he would hear it as well. For a moment she thought that he was going to act on whatever his decision was, but instead he spoke. His utterance low and deep, as if he barely trusted his voice. She expected words of love and devotion to come from his full lips, still agape.

"I do believe your right. This is the best hand massage I've ever had." Removing a red rose with a black ribbon tied to it's stem from his inner vest pocket, he traced the velvety crimson petals along her jaw and cheek. "A small payment for your services, mon amour."

"My full payment, Erik, can only come when you finish that song you were working on."

"Then I suppose I still owe you a song." He rose from the armchair still holding her hand, leading her the short distance back to the organ.
Slowly her heart beat stabilized back to normal, but something else filled her chest. Disappointment. Sure she was a little nervous by his powerful presence, but this empty feeling that lingered was much worse than ones of anticipation. What was he scared of? Christine knew of his strong feeling for her. After all 'Music of the Night' was a love song written for her alone. Erik was capable of such feeling and emotion in his music and voice, but away from those forms of expression he was shy and unsure of himself. We'll have to work on that. A sly smirk came to her face as she contemplated the future with the man now seated at the bench.

Erik made room for Christine to sit next to him. "Well mon inspiration, shall we see if your idea worked?"

The air was filled once again with the same melody of when she awoke. This time when the apogee approached she closed her eyes and secretly hoped that the classical rendition of the popular children's song would not be there. Much to her delight it was not. He finally found what he was looking for in the pinnacle of that song. She could hear the love he so desperately wanted to show her just moments earlier. She could almost feel him embracing her through the music. Perhaps the massage was the right inspiration to help him accomplish his work. In the meantime she was able to discover the truth of her feelings, and share them with Erik. Well, the ones she was willing to vocalize. Later on she would tell him of all she felt. No more secrets between them. Smiling once more taking pride in the small way she helped to bring to life this new masterpiece of his. Christine hoped their life together would be like this song. Full of love and happiness, but for now she would have to be content with what she did have.

For all that remained was music. Sweet. Beautiful. Music.

A/N: "My beautiful precious one."