The sun was just beginning to move over the tops of the trees as the carriage bearing the Chagny family crest sped back down the road it had only just traveled several hours before. Christine twisted her hands back and forth in the fabric of the wedding dress, as she stared unseeing out the window, lost in thoughts, some hopeful, and others as dark as the night she had come to love so much. Raoul watched her in silence, sure that she was not even aware of the anxiety showing in her quick breathing and fluttery movements. The city of Paris was rapidly approaching, most of its residents still sound asleep as the sunlight slowly began to permeate the empty streets and deserted avenues. He once again questioned himself and his decision to help Christine return to the Phantom. Am I doing the right thing for her? I know it is not the right thing for me, but I cannot deny her true happiness, even if she believes it lies with her deceptive Angel. I have never seen her so determined and unyielding…she was always so gentle and compliant when we were children. I was sure that her father's death had destroyed any vestige of independence that existed within her. She was so sheltered…by her father, by Madame Giry and the Opera, then by me. The Phantom was the only one that saw her true self…he wrote those songs in his opera for her…those dark lyrics and sensuous melodies, combined with his presence and his voice on the stage there with her…it all combined to set her free…free to find that darker part of herself. She is a woman now…

Christine was vaguely aware of Raoul's eyes fastened on her, but her thoughts were to frantic and confused for her to give him more than a passing thought. I know that's unfair to him…he's taking me back…he's done everything that I've asked of him, even though it must be so difficult to watch me run to another man's arms. Once I know my Angel is safe, I will find a way to thank him properly. I just have to know that my love is alive…and that he still wants that love that I am ready to give him. Unwittingly, Christine had just given shape to her deepest fears… that her Angel would no longer be alive if, and when, she was able to find him…and that he would not want her, or her love. NO! I will not allow myself to even contemplate the possibility of that. I must find him first…do what I can to make sure he is safe and protected…then I will do anything, whatever it takes, to prove that I love him and that I will never leave him again. Satisfied that she had managed to divert her thoughts from the fears that threatened to destroy her hopes and cripple her spirit, she focused her eyes on the city of Paris, its buildings gleaming in the morning light.

Raoul was jolted from his reverie by the sudden stopping of the carriage. He looked out the window and felt his heart sink into his shoes when he realized they were out in front of the Opera House, a place that last night he believed he would never see again. He turned his glance to the woman beside him, "Do you wish my to accompany you into the building, Christine?" he inquired.

"No, dear friend, I must go on from here alone. This is my journey to make, my future to decide. Thank you for bringing me back…I know you do not truly understand my motivations, but thank you for trusting me and for loving me enough to let me go." Christine then embraced him quickly and stepped down from the carriage onto the city street.

"Christine!" Raoul called, watching her dark hair shine in the light of the sun that was steadily moving higher into the sky. "If you should ever need me, I will always come for you." Christine raised a hand to her lips and blew him a gently kiss. She turned away and looked up at the exterior of the building that was once her home, and was now her only hope for true happiness. Her future, her very existence, depended on what she found inside the burnt walls of that building before her. She took a deep breath, exhaled it gently, and began to walk up the stairs.

The early hour meant that no one, not even the fire brigade and gawking bystanders, were left in or around the building. She continued unmolested down the dark corridors toward her dressing room, barely even noticing the damage done by the fire to walls and rooms as she passed. She finally reached her dressing, and gently pushed open the door. This room was farther back from the stage than most of the dressing rooms, and had remained mostly untouched by the vicious flames. Christine moved over to the mirror and began to push and prod around the frame, biting her lower lip between her teeth as she did so, struggling to reach the uppermost portion of the frame, which was well above her head. Finally she felt a small, unseen button depress under her searching fingers, and the mirror moved open a crack. She pushed the glass back as far as she could, leaving enough room to slip her slight frame into the corridor beyond. Looking back into her dressing room, she saw the candle in the holder on the dressing table, she quickly lit the wick using a nearby match, and then turned to face the dark cavern beyond the mirror, armed with the tiny, flickering flame and a heart filled with hope.

Christine moved slowly down the cold, dark corridor, trying to remember the way back down to the cellars. She smiled somewhat wryly at herself, recalling just how distracted she had been on her first trip down the lair of her Angel, her Phantom of the Opera. She began to hum the song that had come to her mind during that first trip through the mirror, and the sound of her own voice gave her some comfort, as she began to pick up speed. All of a sudden, her humming stopped and the hallway was plunged into absolute darkness as she tripped over a protruding rock and fell to her hands and knees, dropping the candle which was immediately extinguished in a puddle of water. Christine felt her eyes widen in horror and dismay…I have no idea how much farther there is to go…She stood up, placing her hand on the wall for some sort of support. The stone was cool to her touch, and it made her feel connected to her surroundings. She could not see anything, not even her own hand in front of her face. I don't know if I can do this by myself, she thought, tears springing to her eyes. NO! I can do this, I must do this. Think of all the years my Angel has spent alone in the dark, with no one to light his path and warm his days. I can walk this one path to get to him, and I can walk it alone…I will it alone…for him I would walk to the ends of the earth and beyond…I know that now. Calmer now, Christine opened her other senses and once more continued her journey down below. She placed one foot determinedly in front of the other, fighting to keep the hysteria down whenever it threatened to bubble over and cloud her reasoning. She listened, straining her ears for the drip of water that would have to accompany the vast underground lake that she had to cross to reach her beloved Angel. She heard many sounds as she walked, but she did not hear his sound, the music of the night that he had spoken to her of in his song. Suddenly she realized that the acoustics in the stone hallway had changed. Her footsteps made a more hollow, echoing sound, and she saw a blue-green glimmer up ahead. Christine began to run toward the glow, realizing that she was about to reach the lake…one leg of the journey closer to her destination. She reached the edge of the lake, and found that the glow given off by the reflective surface of the water did in fact make it easier for her to see. She looked around the bank of the lake for the boat, and was disheartened to realize that it had not been secured and was not drifting about ten yards away from where she stood, in the middle of the lake, not close enough to either side to be able to reach it without having to step into the water. Christine closed her eyes and prayed for strength, I would walk through the fires of Hell and back for him, to rescue him from himself and his past…I just as surely swim through these waters if that is what it takes. She walked into the water, watching detachedly as the fabric of the wedding dress she wore billowed out around her and then began to slowly soak in the water and drift below the surface. When Christine could no longer feel the bottom of the lake beneath her feet, she began to kick her feet and push herself forward with her arms. The dress weighed her down, and her arms and legs grew tired after only a few strokes. The water was cold and the boat seemed forever away from her. She pressed on, ignoring the agony aflame in her muscles, trying to distract herself by singing the words of her Angel's song in her head. Night-time sharpens,
heightens each sensation . . .Darkness stirs and wakes imagination . . .
Christine felt the hard wood of the boat against her hand and she struggled for endless minutes trying to pull herself up into the vessel. When she had finally managed to haul her shivering body into the boat, she lay still, breathing heavily. I must press on, I cannot keep wasting my time this way. She shakily rose to her feet and grabbed the pole that was, thankfully, still attached to the boat. She began to push the boat forward, although the muscles in her arms screamed in protect. Christine began to sing in earnest, keeping her movements with the boat in time with her words. Silently the senses
abandon their defenses . . .Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor . . .Grasp it, sense it -
tremulous and tender . . .Turn your face away from the garish light of day, turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light - and listen to the music of the night . . .

Christine's eyes widened and her breathing quickened, the song forgotten, as she realized she was almost to her destination. Ahead of her she could see the candelabras extended their elegant gold necks from the depths of the lake, some candles still remaining lit. She felt the bottom of the boat bump against the shore, and she quickly jumped back into the knee-high freezing water without a moment's hesitation. She secured the boat as fast as she could and she began to move up the stairs to wear the organ sat. Christine was happy to see that nothing had been destroyed by the mob that had descended down the evening before. The fire must have scared them away before they could do any damage. That means that might not have found my Angel! He might be alive and unharmed! Joy surged through Christine's veins, giving her body and soul the strength to go on, despite the chill that was rapidly overtaking her small frame. It was then that she realized that not everything in her Angel's domain had remained untouched. The mirrors were all broken, shattered beyond repair. I have seen this image before, she though, but where…My dream! The terrible nightmare that had woken her earlier that same morning had begun with just this image. If I am to believe in that dream, then my love could be behind that one mirror that remains covered. She moved quickly to that mirror and pushed back the heavy covering, not even noticing the rich feel of it against her cold and aching hands. "Angel?" she called into the darkness beyond, "Angel? Can you hear me? Please speak to me!"

Christine stopped and listened intently. Faintly she head what sounded like her name, "Christine…" whispered in a voice so soft that she was not sure she heard it at all. She did not hesitate a moment longer, but stepped beyond the broken mirror's frame and into the darkness beyond. "Angel? I'm here, please speak again so I can find you," she called into the waiting darkness.

"Christine? I am here…in the dark, where I have always been and where I will always be," his voice returned to her from the ebony expanse before her.

She moved forward still deeper into the darkness. "I have come back to you, my Angel. Please use your beautiful voice to guide me to you so that we can begin our life together." She paused, biting her lip, afraid that she had said too much, too soon. But she could not help herself, the very sound of his voice raised her heart and soul to the highest rafters of the Opera house, and higher still to the blue skies of the heavens beyond. He lives! He is alive! Everyone part of her body was screaming this joyfully, straining forward to find him and be reunited in body as well as voice.

"Our life? What life can there be for the nightingale and the rose?" came the reply.

"Without the nightingale, the rose would have no reason to stretch to the dawn…no reason to absorb the moisture of the rain…no happiness and no joy would be found in those petals and their perfume would soon turn sour and fade. The love of the nightingale and the rose produced something beautiful and pure, and for this reason I do not believe that any love is forbidden," she responded, firm in her resolve. "No love that fills my soul with such light and joy could ever be stopped or broken." Suddenly she saw a darker patch of blackness in the shadows around her, an expanse of deeper black that was beginning to take on the form of a man. She rushed the last few steps to his side and knelt next to him, heedless of the sharp rocks pressing into her knees through the wet fabric of her dress. She ran her hands over his body, until finally her searching fingers found their way to his uncovered face. She gently traced the features of that face, both the perfect side and the disfigured. He tried to turn away from her touch, but she would not let him. "I know my hands are cold my love," she said in a gentle voice, "But please let me touch your face, so that I can prove to myself that you are real and not some glorious vision that will fade away that moment I turn my back."

"Christine? Why have you come back? Where is your Vicomte? Why do you speak to me of love and torture my poor, weary heart with dreams that can never come true?" her Angel's voice was soft and laced with pain and sorrow, so much sadness that it brought tears to her eyes.

"My love, I will explain everything, but please let me help you get to somewhere more comfortable and warm," she replied. When no response came, she slowly stood and leaned over the dark figure, helping to lift him to his knees, and then his feet. She pulled his arm across her shoulders and slowly helped him through the darkness, back towards the light of the candles. Christine helped him to the swan-shaped bed, lowering him to sit on its edge. She knelt at his feet and unlaced his black shoes, then slowly pushed on his shoulders, until he was lying back on the soft velvet coverings. Only after these tasks were completed did she sit gingerly on the edge of the bed, and for the first time, she raised her tear-filled eyes to his curious golden gaze.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she placed her fingers to his lips. "Please my love, I told you I would explain, and I intend to do so, but you must let me do so now, before another word is said." He nodded his assent, as his eyes continued to search her own. Christine took a deep breath, and began, "When I left here last night, the last thing I could remember was the look in your eyes after I returned the engagement ring to you. I remembered your last words, telling me of your love. Then I was standing on the street outside of the Opera House, and Raoul was rushing me into his carriage. On the way to his estate, I stared out the window, and I realized after a time that I was listening for the music of the night, I was listening for your voice in my head. When I found I could not hear it, I could not hear you, I became afraid. You have been with me for so long, I was not sure what life would mean without you. Raoul brought me to his house, and I asked him to leave me alone. I needed time to think. I thought about what life would be like with him…becoming a Vicomtess…having children…Paris high society…a life that would hold more than any woman could want. But I realized something would be missing from that life…music…love…passion…I love Raoul, but I realized that I love him as a friend, a brother…not as a lover, as a husband. I would never be happy in the role of the doting wife on his arm. I went to sleep troubled, and slept fitfully. I dreamed that I was here, looking for something…I saw the mirrors were broken and I looked behind the one that remained covered. I called out for someone…and I heard your voice calling my name. I woke up with tears in my eyes realizing that I had been afraid in my dream, afraid that you would not be alive when I found you…afraid that you would have disappeared…afraid that I would never get to tell you that I…I love you. I want to share my life with you…because after I woke up, I pictured what life would be like with you…a life of music, love, and passion…a life of wonder and exploration…of learning about you and showing you the beauty and goodness inside of you. I realized that I want to spend the rest of my life bringing light and joy and warmth and love to your soul, and to your heart. I want to give you all of me…my voice, my mind, my heart, my soul…and my body. I choose this life…a life with you…no matter what the obstacles that come our way. You would have done anything to keep me here with you, to protect me and love me…now all I ask is that chance to always be with you, to protect you and love you with all of my being."

The rush of words finally stopped, and Christine held her breath…indeed it seemed as if all the world was holding its breath, as if the angels and the demons all knew that this moment was the truest test of love. She raised her eyes once more to his, and was shocked to see tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. She moved her hand to wipe them away, but her Angel grabbed her hand and placed a kiss on her upturned palm. He looked into her eyes, and spoke, his voice hoarse with emotion, "Christine…all that you have said. I can see in your eyes that you believe every word. You are not under the control of my voice or my songs…But how can I ask you to live with me in the darkness. You believe that there is light in my soul, but you must learn that there is much despair and emptiness there as well. If you are willing to share that with me…there is nothing in the world I would not give you…nothing that you ask of me that I will not do."

Christine smiled, a sight so pure and joyful that it took his breath away. She opened her mouth and sang to him, "Let me be your shelter, let me be your light…Then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime . . . Let me lead you from your solitude . . . Say you need me with you here, beside you . . . anywhere you go, let me go too – that's all I ask of you…" She leaned down and pressed her lips to his, pouring all of her emotion into that kiss. She moved away, so that her lips were still touching his, "I love you my Angel…and I will love you until the stars fall from the sky."

Her love struggled to sit up, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him and holding her as tightly as he could without hurting her. "You are the Angel, my sweet Christine. You have saved me with your words and your kiss."

Christine pulled back, still holding his hands in hers, so as not to break the contact between them. "My love, I have one request of you now, in this moment…What is your name? Even my Angel must have a name."

He smiled at her, for the first time in his life completely unselfconscious of his naked face. "My name is Erik."

She pressed her lips to his again. "Erik…does it not mean 'ever-powerful'? How fitting for you, for the one who has the power to change my life into something more than I ever dreamed that it could be." She involuntarily shivered, becoming for the moment aware of her wet clothing and aching limbs.

Erik watched his love as it became apparent that her journey down to find him had not been an easy one. He ran his hand through her dark hair, and said, "There are dresses in the closet behind you, my love, would you perhaps like to change into something more comfortable?"

Christine smiled at his consideration, and moved to do as he suggested. She selected a dark pink nightgown from the closet and moved into the next room to change. She returned as quickly as she could, to find that Erik had also changed into something more suitable for sleeping. She looked into his eyes, and said, "Please sleep beside me tonight, my love…for I cannot bear to be away from you for another moment."

Erik nodded his assent and settled himself beside her on the bed. He kissed her fiercely, but noting the exhaustion in her eyes, and acknowledging his own aching tiredness, he pulled Christine to his chest, and closed his eyes.

Christine moved herself closer to her Angel, and whispered softly, "I love you, Erik," before allowing sleep to claim her aching body.

Erik smiled the first genuine smile of his life, and realized that for the first time, he might sleep well.

As the rest of the world moved about above in the daylight, the Phantom and his Christine slept, entwined in one another's embrace.

A.N. I again tried to stick with the emotional side of things for Christine and Erik. I would like to believe that once Erik sees her return of her own free will, and sees that she has made her own decision without his coercion, he would not be able to deny himself the one joy, the one love, he has ever found in his life. Please let me know what you think!

P.S. I hope to earn that M rating in the next chapter ;-)

Kagome1514: Thank you so much for your kind review. I'm glad you think that Raoul was kept true to his character, and I will do my best to live up to your expectations in that department for the other characters as well. I lament the fact that my chapters seem short, but I hope the length of this chapter makes up for the previous two! Thanks for reading! Twinkle22: Yup, it seems even our dear "fop" can have his good points! I hope the reunion with the Phantom is everything you wanted it to be!

Phantomforever: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I've been a believer, from the moment I read the original novel, and even more so after Susan Kay's and Andrew Llyod Webber's adaptations, that Christine belongs with her Angel.