Author's notes: I've just finished reading "Phantom" by Susan Kay and I'm really amazed. Few books have had such an effect on me – this one almost brought me to tears. I'm considering doing a one-shot AU fic based on it, where Christine doesn't get the message from Raoul and goes looking for Erik – and hears the quote in this chapter (that was the moment when I really had to fetch my tissues). What do you think?

Anyway, I hope I did Erik justice in this chapter. He is tough to write, with all that temper. And if there was any point in the fic where I could switch to his POV, I think it's now. So tell me if I should change the POV – this is your last chance to choose.

Enrinye – So nice of you to drop a word, Z.! ;-) I didn't think you were reading the fic… but thanks for the praise. You'll have to tell me what you think about this one and if it was better than the concept I showed you.

EriksIngenue – (background voices) He's here – the Phantom of the Opera! Beware - the Phantom of the Opera!

Mina – Captivated already? I didn't even have Erik start singing Music of the Night yet! Heh. Thanks and read on.

Gypsy – Thanks, thanks, thanks. :-) I try hard… here you go.

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"Please, God, let her love me and I promise to be good forever..."

Erik

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Chapter 3 – Blossoming

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Christine...

My smile widened – I was now fully assured that the voice was real, that it wasn't just my wish to hear words of comfort that created the blissful illusion in my mind.

But… what if all this was just a dream? What if I would suddenly wake up, facing once again the grayish world of reality, where Angels remained in Heaven and we, the pitiful mortals, were condemned to life without any real light?

"If this is a dream… I do not wish to wake up…" I hardly even realized that the wish came from my lips, a soft whisper that left no echo in the chapel.

But the Angel heard it.

"Then let the dream begin, Christine." Echoed the voice, the voice far, far too beautiful to be anything created by man. The voice that already held more power over me than I would dare admit. "This dream shall not end… unless you wish it to." The edge of sadness I registered almost destroyed me.

"No!" I hurriedly exclaimed, fear claiming my senses. Whatever it would take to do to make my unseen companion remain with me, I would do. "I will do what you wish, Angel, but please do not leave me here alone… do not leave me in the darkness… I would surely die if I wouldn't hear your voice again!"

It was a childish statement, I knew that now, but I was but a helpless child, clinging to the only star, brighter than the sun, which had suddenly appeared on my darkened sky. And now it was threatening to disappear again, as quickly as it came, threatening to remain but a memory.

I could never, ever, allow that. Not now, now that my belief in God's mercy had been restored. Childish as my words were, they were true.

"I wish you to sing, Christine." The Angel noted after tormenting me with a moment of silence. He wanted to see if I was dedicated enough to hold my promise… and what he saw confirmed his theories and gave him a reason to continue. "I will teach you and, in time, you will fulfill your father's wish." I heard a smile in his voice, as if he were saying the obvious, being the Angel of Music, and with each word, the hint of a promise came closer to a vow.

It didn't surprise me that he knew about my father and my grief. An all-seeing Angel he was, he knew all there was to know about me. Disbelief and doubt were farthest from my mind.

"But you shall have to listen to my guidance, or you will never hear me again. Whatever you have been given can also be withdrawn. Your voice has reached me, child, but should you disobey me, I shall have to find a new student." Much of the voice's fatherly nature disappeared, leaving place for the commanding voice of an emperor, putting just enough authority into his words to frighten his servants and yet inspire belief.

But the mind of a child needed no more augmenting.

"You will never have to do that." That was my vow, my promise to him. I would be an obedient student, to please my father and my Angel… I would do all my Angel would ask of me. A child would know no better than an Angel, therefore I had no reason to lie.

"Very well, little nightingale. I will help your voice take wings." Somewhere inside my mind, I knew, just as he surely did, that my soul was already soaring with hope. "You must come to this chapel every day after your rehearsals."

"How will you know when that it?" It was stupid of me to ask – I had forgotten for a moment who I was speaking with.

And yet he didn't laugh, merely dismissed the question. "Do not concern yourself with that, child. I shall never let you out of my sight… and when you come and I am not here, delayed by my heavenly duties, simply call to me, as you have today. But do not sing for others, not yet. Surely you have understood by now that you must not tell anyone of these lessons, Christine. Mortals wouldn't be able to understand. The souls that reside here are unworthy of witnessing your song. They would throw away the sleeping bud and keep the quickly-dying blooms that they see here every day, even if the weeds could never reach beauty, let alone splendor."

I wanted to smile – it seemed my Angel was every bit the poet and knew how to encourage me, even with metaphors. But I had to ask – could a never-blossoming bud do what the "weeds" could not? Could a little chorus girl do what prima donnas could never accomplish?

How mature that sounded, compared to my usual chatter. But it seemed to amuse the Angel, for quiet laughter, which, to my ears was like the sound of the softest silver bells, reached me.

"Did I not promise you guidance? Look into the alcove to your left - you shall see yourself in a mirror, my dear."

Puzzled as I was, knowing there was no mirror in the chapel, I obeyed, natural curiosity taking over. The alcove of stone was simple and cold… but in it lay something that could not have been there moments ago, proof of the Angel's words and power in one, if anyone would need any.

There, beautiful in its simplicity, lay a single blood red rose, decorated only by a silky-smooth satin ribbon, for a reason which I could not yet perceive, black as the night.

"Soon, mon rosé, you shall no longer fear the dark."

And then, accompanied by the sweet sound of a violin, tremulous and tender, my Angel sang to me for the first time. Only now did I truly understand what bliss meant, losing myself in the flawless divine voice that would break the coldest of hearts, bring the cruelest of the human race to tears.

Emotions surrounded me. Sadness that had been the core of my heart was evaporating from the voice, because the Angel of Music, the Angel of Darkness, was no longer alone.

The gentle words of his song, each syllable, each letter radiated a pure, innocent caring – a love untouched by the spoils of the world, a love that was, just as he had said about me, still a sleeping bud.

Neither of us knew what agony, what sorrow, what… utter bliss… lied in store for us, how horribly beautiful that bloom would be.

There was nothing in the world right now, only music and two lost souls, perhaps two halves of one soul that had finally, after countless cruel tricks of fate, found each other.