A/N: well I originally intended this chapter to be longer but if I did that you wouldn't be getting it for another week and I've been getting the impression that there are some PFN'ers out there that wouldn't be too happy with me if that were the case. So I'm sorry you had to wait for a not so long chapter but I hope you like it non the less. Thank you so much for all the great reviews! You guys keep me going.

Christine was visibly startled to see that Erik was not wearing his mask when he turned and allowed a small gasp escaped her lips as that vision of death faced her. It had been so long since she'd actually seen him; it was a wonder how her mind kept so poor memory of such a horrifying appearance.

He did this on purpose, her mind screamed instantly. This was to make her feel guilty, to shame her. But then such a thought was ridiculous. This was his house; of course he should take off his mask. Surly he was not used to wearing it all day, and especially while playing his music, it must be awfully uncomfortable to compose with that inhibiting shield in place.

Christine did feel shame when she that there was pain in his face, the smallest hint of betrayal once that torturous breath passed from deep in her throat. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean… I simply—" was all she could only stutter before Erik cut her off.

"You forgot? Such a luxury." He looked at her coldly, his face instantly emotionless, giving no hint of sympathy at the sight of her tears.

"No, Erik. You simply caught me off guard."

"Off guard," his voice whispered softly. At this he rose from the bench and took a step towards her. "Yes one must always be on guard around me, isn't that so? One never knows what could be allowed to slip when emotions are allowed to run unrestrained…"

Closing her eyes involuntarily to that hideous deaths head doing something so incredible as speaking, she did not see him replace the mask in a single graceful motion. "Erik..."

"Please don't cry, child. This song doesn't deserve your tears."

Christine scowled as she slipped off of the coffin to stare up at the brooding man, she was in no mood to play his games. "I am not a child!"

Even to her own ears she knew she sounded exactly like nothing more than a defiant child.

"No," he said, smiling indulgently at her. "I suppose not. But still, I should have not have played that in your presence. I'm sorry you had to hear it… such music burns under heavens sun."

Christine scoffed. "Well I thought it was beautiful."

Erik surveyed her contemplatively, a slight frown showing through his eyes. "Did you? Well then I'm very sorry to hear that."

Rolling her eyes in frustration, Christine stamped furiously away from him, raising her voice as she spoke. "Can you not speak plainly for once? Why must you be so damn cryptic all the time?"

"You don't like it when I speak plainly," he snapped back, though sure to keep his volume in check. "Very well, what is on my mind Christine? Why don't you tell me about your marriage to the Vicomte? Yes, I think I'd like to hear about that. Ah ha! You see! You dislike my words now."

Christine's scowl became ever more prominent as her hands clutch her arms in a ferocious embrace, turning her knuckles white. Anger and guilt raced side by side through her body as she practically growled her next words. "And why would you wish to hear about that?"

Erik approached her in slow graceful steps, moving in behind her with only a predator's skill. It wasn't until his whispered breath caressed her ear that she realized just how close he was. She then felt a thin bonelike hand pull back a few unruly strands of hair behind her ear with the lightest touch, taking it's time as it glided over her skin.

"Because obviously something was lacking in your perfect fairy tale marriage, my dear," came his voice in a low soothing wave, his hand now trailing down her milky white neck, drawing a small gasp from her lips. "You left him, you said so yourself."

A shiver ran through the girl as the hand clasped over her shoulder and the pads of his fingers lightly danced over her bare collarbone. "I made a mistake," she whispered with half closed eyes, only half ignoring the heat which now flushed over her skin.

With sudden force, the grip on her shoulder tightened and she was spun to face him, the mask only inches from her face. "Happy wives don't leave their husbands," he sneered to her shaken face. Erik then flung her back and stalked back towards the organ.

"Why do you wish to know Erik?" she yelled back at him, more fiercely than before. "Why do you care? You claim you no longer want me, so what does it matter? Am I only to assume that you wish to taunt me for my foolishness? That you wish to hurt me? Punish me?"

He looked back at her dully, his eyes making only a quick sweep before turning away. "Dry your eyes child. I have other methods for causing harm, as you well know."

"I am not afraid of you."

His eyes snapped back.

"Pardon me?" he asked as he approached her, looking at her as though she were the most curious creature he'd ever seen.

"I said; I am not afraid of you, Erik. You may have been able to terrify me in the past, but you can't intimidate me now. Not anymore."

Something in his form stiffened. The man looked away before drifting back with an uneasy step. "I never meant for you to be afraid of me, Christine."

Vaguely did Christine's mind register the touch of sadness that came with those words; instead she only continued to glare at her phantom as memories of a distant past played throughout her mind. "I'm sure," was her emotionless reply.

Erik took his time to consider her. At length he tentatively asked, without really expecting an answer, "May I ask why you're no longer afraid?"

Christine's expression softened as she considered this. The scowl that graced her features faded leaving the mirror image of an innocent child in its wake. Christine felt old. So much more seemed to have passed than her three and twenty years could allow and now all she wanted was peace.

The girl looked up at Erik, shaking her head slightly to answer a silent question to her self. He could just see the faintest hint of tears beginning to glisten before she turned her head away, letting go of a long, slow, and shaky breath.

"It could be because I no longer fear for my life, because there is nothing I love which you could take from me, because there is nothing you can use to threaten me with, and there is nothing from me you want…" She turned her head back to him. "Or it could be because I have lost my aversion to spiders and I find your song beautiful, because I too burn under the sun."

There were no tears in her eyes, Erik could only see damning honesty and his faint reflection brought on by their glassy surface.

"I'm tired Erik. If you need me, I'm going to be resting in my room."

Christine could feel his eyes watching her as she made her silent decent from the room and it was only once her door was firmly shut that she heard the sound of a few smashing objects distantly through the walls.

Why had she left Raoul? That was a reasonable question. Before, she had blamed Catherine and her constant manipulation, that she had twisted her views and distorted reality to convince her. But then, as she had stood in Erik's presence, that excuse did not seem acceptable. Now it dawned on her, she knew why; it would have been a lie. In the end it was she that made the choice to leave, Catherine merely provided the open door when she did.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Christine's fingers absently played with the twisting design on her bracelet. It was the last present Raoul ever gave her, the only thing she had left of him. It seemed a lifetime ago when she received the precious gift. Christine looked down on the expensive piece of jewelry and cried.

Please RR!

...i've got virtual cookies gives look