The slam of the door made the interior of the room shudder. Erik smashed over a few tables before standing in his room, out of breath and clenching his fists.

How could he let her intoxicate his mind once more? How could he make himself even dream that he had seen something sparkle in her eyes for a tiny bit, when she had thanked him for staying with her? He couldn't believe she knew. He was so angry that she knew! Angry and embarrassed. And yet, she hadn't been angry with him because of that. She had thanked him. He closed his eyes at the memory of her touch on his arm.

Stop it! His mind screamed at him. You fool; she doesn't feel anything for you! Stop dreaming, that almost destroyed you last time! I hate her.

He sat in a large armchair next to the balcony, facing the back view of the house, with jasmine trees and palms, the city and further, hills and mountains, leading to an afternoon sky of angry orange and blood red. He placed his head in his hands, and argued with himself repetitively.

No, he thought, I will not be hurt once again. She can stay till the danger has past.

But his mind now wandered to other matters. He had told Christine she would be safe here at his Estate, and he would do anything to protect her. He had to, he had promised to. But her staying here was still a threat. Not only was he being searched for by bounty hunters in Persia, still a lot of them attracted to the large fortune on his head, still from years past, the police department in Paris also were searching for him, but the most dangerous threat was a hidden secret. A secret that only 2 people in the world knew about, and was hidden away with Erik a long time ago. If found out, Erik would be traced, and Christine being here with him would put her in the path of death.

He had no other way of keeping her safe, apart from wait for her coming of age, but he trusted the second person who knew of the secret. He trusted them not to give anything away of his whereabouts. The same way she had trusted him, and brought him to live at the Opera house.

- --

Christine sat trembling in her own room. She watched the curtains billow calmly in the afternoon breeze, reflecting none of her own emotions.

She was on the verge of tears, but they did not come. All she could think about was him. Erik. His face clouded her mind, his voice sang to her, and shook the very core of her soul. She had hated what he had done, she hated him for threatening Raoul, and she hated him for loving her once.

She tried to listen carefully to the memory of his voice, when she had seen him as an angel sent to her by her father. It sent shivers to her spine, recalling those nights when she would be alone in her bed, and here echo's of a ghost, so frightening, and yet so familiar. She remembered the night of Don Juan, when she had stood up on stage with Erik in her final performance. He had truly intoxicated her, and she would have given anything for him. She had been taken already; when he held her, and declared a love for her she would never posses. She ripped the mask from his face, unable to let him finish his song. She couldn't bear it. She couldn't let Raoul see her fall. Christine hated herself. She had destroyed Erik. And yet he still talked of protecting her. Was he the tormented one, or was she?

- --

Early the next morning, Christine had wandered outside to the fountain in the gardens. She sat on the low rim around the pool of cool water, dipping her bare feet and hands into it. It felt so pleasant under the Persian sun, her skin bronzing beautifully under its rays. She had scraped her hair back into a gathered bun of curls to cool her neck. Her thoughts were still troubled. She frowned, not just from the glare of sunlight. Her thoughts of Erik were still not clear, and she was worried about them. But even still, she would not let her feelings affect him. She would keep quiet. Erik did not deserve to be subject to her again.

She suddenly heard footsteps behind her, and was shocked at what she saw.

Erik stood, clad in casual black trousers and a loose white shirt. He was looking at her curiously, as she was to him. He looked so…so out of place. Christine had never seen Erik in any form of natural light. His pale skin looked strange against the blue skies and the sun light gardens. She was so surprised, he frowned.

"No good morning then?" He muttered awkwardly. She let go of her caught breath as he sat opposite her on the fountain. She was still gaping at him slightly. Why did he look so different?

"Did you make this?" She finally got out, nodding towards the fountain. Erik nodded, frowning up at his work. He stroked the stone pool edge carefully, as if inspecting his work. "It's very beautiful." She added.

He looked at her with his sea green eyes, sparkling in the sun. She felt her breath leave her once more. He looked so magnificent, as if meant for a grander stage. She had realised why he looked different. He looked like a man. An normal, high class lord, who would meet up with his courtier at the fountain, and talk of art, summer days and politics, who might suggest a picnic later that afternoon, or take a stroll through the landscape. If it wasn't for his mask, and his mysterious aura, she would be convinced of the image.

"Christine.." He began, combing her with his eyes, longing to run his hands through her shining hair. She remained silent. "I want you…to meet me. Tonight. I have something I have been meaning to give you."

Her mind began racing. What was he talking about? She ran images through her head of what it could be, each more ridiculous that the last.

"I will be in the yard. After the sun has gone down. Ok?" The 'ok' was not said in a tone of a question, more of a demand. She nodded silently. He lingered for a moment, watching her quietly, then got up quickly, and made for the back of the house.

"Erik." Her sweet voice travelled to him, melting his senses. He turned, squinting slightly at the suns beam. "Why after the suns gone down?"

He thought for a moment. "It's something for you, no one else." He turned his head slightly, indicating covertly to the maids rushing by open windows and gardeners not to far off from them. She nodded once more, and he left her sat next to one of his masterpieces.

- ---

Christine had been nervous all day. She had no idea why she was, he only wanted to give her something. But this was Erik. Nothing was casual or calming with him. Anyone else would have not gone. But once again, he heart led the way, deaf to the protests of her head. She crept down the marble staircase which was cold against her bare feet, and tried to retrace her steps from the other day, towards the courtyard at the centre.

It night was very warm, and Christine could hear the crickets song outside the windows that she past. The stars twinkled magically in the sky, winking at her as she past. Finally she reached the dark, unlit courtyard, passing through an open door frame from a corridor. She squinted to see in the darkness, the courtyard being shaded from the clear moons glow. There were shadows in the corners which made her stomach turn a little. She clutched her arms together, despite the warm air of the night. She forgot how long she had waited, her thoughts on what was about to happen, and secretly wishing she wasn't there.

"I'm glad you came." His voice sang behind her. She turned slowly to see him towering over her. She could see the white mask gleaming, and his eyes, hard and piercing. She took the tiniest step backwards, so he would not be so close to her.

"I was meant to give this to you for some time, but..."

But you couldn't because I left. She thought. She looked around, wondering what she would see him produce. He pulled up one of his hands, and she could make out a box clutched there. She took it from his nervously; careful as not to touch him, scared of what would happen if she did.

Her eyes were adjusting now to the darkness, and she could see the small box was black. A plain old box. She looked curiously at Erik, who returned her gaze, but looked down at the box once more

She lifted the lid with slightly trembling fingers. Inside, there was nothing but a parchment note. She quickly took it from the box to read the beautifully handwriting that blessed the paper. She just about made out what it said.

'To my beautiful darling Christine,

Angels are all around us, the kind that heaven sends. I was sent an angel once, a magical day when my world was changed forever. I was awakened by a beauty that came to the world and blessed me with her presence. Christine, you were my angel, and you have made me the happiest soul in the world.

I promised you I would send you an angel, to protect you in times of need, and to love you as I have. Remember my darling that Angels, and their beauty is always apparent in some form. I trust you to find your angel.

I love you and will be with you always,

Father Xxx

Christine let out a sob as she read the last word. She shut the box and clutched the sacred treasure to her chest. Tears fell from her eyes, and she broke into soft sobs of pain. Her father had meant this letter for her, and she had not received it till now. She cried at his words, missing him like no other, yearning for his embrace that made her feel secure and loved.

As she wept, an embrace did come. She felt herself moving into the masculine form, wrapping there arms around her protectively. She forgot everything and cried into Erik chest. He stroked her hair as she shook uncontrollably in his arms. He felt his heart breaking once more, and he felt an urge to push her from him and run. But he could not do that to her. Not now, not when she was like this.

"Did…did you read this?" She sounded muffled in his chest.

"No…" He whispered. That was the truth. He had been entrusted with it by Madame Giry, being instructed to keep it until she was ready, when the pain had past. Obviously Madame Giry had forgotten about the letter meant for Christine, and so Erik had kept it safe until the opportune moment. He half wished he hadn't given it to her now; it caused him distress to see her like this.

I trust you to find your angel. Their beauty is always apparent in some form.

The written words echoed in her head. Her father promised her he would send the Angel of Music to her, and she had fallen into the trap that this man, who held her so tenderly, was that Angel. When she had found out he was a man, her dreams where shattered, and she fell terribly afraid of him. Now, her mind was formulating once more, into terrifying conclusions. Conclusions that she may have been wrong…

"Erik, " She lifted her face upwards to look at him. His face was contort with worry, yet still held a stiff, hardened look at her, like he wished for her to stop. She pulled away, and handed him the note. He took it silently, and glanced at it.

"Read it..." Christine sniffed.

His eyes scanned the page. He took his time, or read it a few times over, before slowly meeting with Christine's gaze. She was still letting tears flow down her cheeks, running onto her chest, yet she was looking at him with an unnamed emotion.

"My father saw me as his angel. A human. I am his angel on earth. That's what he meant…"

Erik watched her flick her eyes back and forth, darting for answers. Her breathing was becoming shallow and rapid, she was obviously in distress.

"My father… He promised me…Why would he not keep a promise, to send me my angel..." She turned her voice to a whisper, her eyes locked on Erik, whose chest was rising and falling rapidly. "…my Angel of Music?"

Christine took a step nearer to Erik, who took a large breath in. His head was pounding. No! No! No! Don't you do it, you're a fool. A damn fool! The witch has drawn you in again. You're weak!

But his heart only had eyes for the wonder before him, deafening the yells of his thoughts. It dragged him nearer to her, making his hand catch her face, stroking a thumb down her soft cheek and twist fingers in her hair. She put a small hand to his chest, and moved it backwards to his shoulder, forcing her to move even closer to him. He was shaking now, and she could feel his strong frame weakening from her touch. She reached her other hand to his face, stroking his good cheek, and pulling her fingers down to his lips. He kissed them gently, his nerves on end. Christine then made her hand move to his mask. He jerked back, a natural reaction to the protection of his true self. Christine held sadness in her eyes as he did so, and she shook her head slightly.

"Erik…" Her whisper was tangent to another that came from none of them. It sounded shriller, and it had said nothing, but had gasped. They both let of each other instantly, and spun around to the cause of the gasp.

There in the doorframe, was the young pretty woman Christine had seen leaving the house a few days before.

"Sara…" Erik muttered, his eyes growing wide with damped horror.