Disclaimer: As you all know, I don't own any of the characters in this story that are associated with Phantom of the Opera (a.k.a. Christine, Erik, Madame Giry, Meg, etc.). I wish though... lol : )

A/N: This takes place one week after Erik let Christine go. She went off to live with Raoul and they are to be married in a couple of weeks. I'm not going to tell you what happened to Erik right now, but you'll find out soon. Keep reading and please review.

"Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping, waiting, and though

unwanted, unbidden, it will stir. Open it's jaws and howl.

It speaks to us, guides us. Passion rules us all, and we

obey. What other choice do we have?

Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of

love, the clarity of hatred, and the ecstasy of grief.

It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we can

live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of

peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered

and dank. Without passion, we'd be truly dead."

-Angel, "Buffy the Vampire Slayer"

Christine grimaced as she downed another shot of liquor. She bit her tongue until only the aftertaste was left in her delicate mouth. She didn't much care for the taste of it. In fact, she very nearly spit out her first shot. Not only was the taste bad, but the alcohol burned her throat until it was raw. But she knew it was the only thing that could make her feel any better now. Besides, she thought, the second and third shots aren't nearly as bad. In fact, the taste seems to get a little better with each shot.

She only had three shots so far, but because she had never drunk alcohol before, she was nearly drunk. The effects of the alcohol had calmed her down and helped her to relax. At least, she wasn't the screaming, raging monster that many innocent bystanders had witnessed earlier that day.

She didn't want to think about it. She couldn't bear to. It was just too much. The mere thought brought her to tears. Again. But no one in the crowded bar noticed. No one noticed and no one cared. Embarrassed, she wiped her eyes. No more crying, she thought. That's what he would have wanted.

She looked around at the various people sharing the bar with her this dreary night. All of them looked pretty much the same. They were dressed in plain clothes, some even rags. And most of them were disgustingly unkempt. She looked down at her finely-crafted, light blue dress. She was once again slightly embarrassed, knowing that she stood out in this bar full of commoners.

Her embarrassment left her quickly and she went back to observing the people occupying the dank tavern. They all seemed jolly, but Christine knew it was only the effects of the drink. But not even the drink could cure her despair this night. Not after what happened.

Pushing those thoughts away, Christine glanced to the other side of the bar and was surprised to find another woman. Unlike the men there, she appeared to be well kempt and quite pretty actually. Christine figured her to be only a few years older than herself, possible in her early twenties. She had straight, brunette hair and, as far as Christine could tell, green eyes. She was tall and very thin with elegant curves. Strangely, though, she was wearing pants and a blouse instead of a dress.

Christine wondered who this strange woman was and even thought about going over to talk to her. It would be nice to have to company of another woman, she thought. Someone to talk to... when she was sure no one else would listen.

"Who is that woman?" she asked the bartender, a pudgy man in his forties with a bushy beard.

"No one really knows," he replied rather uninterested, a smirk on his face.

She raised an eyebrow at him, as if questioning his word. Christine was not unintelligent; she could tell that the man wasn't telling her everything. Sometimes she hated being a woman. She knew that he was just anxious to ask what a girl like her was doing in a bar. After everything that happened, she didn't need men like this pestering her, asking questions of her. Maybe if she were a little bit drunker, she would have slapped this disrespectful man right across the face. But common sense kept her from doing it.

He shrugged his shoulders at her change of attitude. "They say she's foreign. Started comin' in 'ere a couple weeks ago. Doesn't really talk much. Most of the men are a bit scared o' her, to tell you the truth. There's a rumor that she murdered a man. Don't know nothin' bout that though."

"Oh," Christine stated, not really interested in talking to the woman anymore. That is, if it's true she murdered a man. But it's not like she hadn't been exposed to murder. She witnessed the Phantom of the Opera kill before. He killed and now he has to pay for his crimes, she thought, frowning.

Just that morning, she read in the newspaper that the Phantom had been captured and was to be executed the coming Saturday morning. At 8:00, she thought. At first she thought she was happy about this news. Finally she wouldn't have to fear him anymore. He would be dead. She could live a happy life with Raoul and that would be that.

That's what she thought at first. Then she realized that it was her fault. All her fault. He killed for her. Because he loved her. And deep down inside she realized that she still cared for her Angel as well. That's when she turned into the screaming monster. She couldn't take it. She loved Raoul but she loved her Angel too. And now he was going to die. Because of her. Only instinct brought her to this bar. Raoul would never find her here. She was free to drown her sorrows in alcohol as she pleased.

Apparently, the bartender noticed the look of pure horror and Christine's face as she recalled the events that took place that day. "Another shot, then?" he asked her, chuckling quietly to himself.

Christine nodded, and he poured the shot.

Well that's all I got right now. Tell me what you think so far. If it completely sucks, I wanna know. lol. :) This is my first POTO fanfic so please don't criticize too much. More to come soon, I promise.