Author's notes: New POV, people! I rather liked it, so here we go, back to DOM for a while. It's still not finished however. And Part II officially begins!

EriksIngenue – (insert evil laughter here)

starnat– yes, that is right.

Enrinye– sure, sure, the EC shipper within me wouldn't allow anything bad, don't worry.

lady kathrin – sorry, no more Erik right now. His POV will be back, however.

Maidenhair – here's the next chapter!

X X X

Part II: Hell

Intermezzo II: Charon

X X X X

If I live to be a hundred, I shall never truly understand what had transpired that terrible night beneath the Opera Populaire, in the magical lair of the Phantom of the Opera, who, despite being only a single man, managed to keep us all in check for so long.

I have never truly believed in the rumor of a so-called "Phantom" when I first entered the halls of the Paris Opera House. I was interested in art, as was my family, and such a world-renown institution seemed to be clearly worthy of our support, financial and otherwise. Plus, it also had its bonuses for us, because opera was a popular genre among the higher society. It seemed to be a win-win situation.

The fact that I encountered Christine was just another of the miracles that had occurred there. Christine! The angel of my childhood, my best friend, my Little Lotte who had grown into an opera diva! Simply seeing her on stage that night, dressed as a queen and playing the part of one, fully opened my eyes to what I had perhaps been oblivious before.

Childhood sweethearts we might have been, but that was an innocent attraction that could have faded with time. After that night, however, I had made my choice. Once I had been assured that it was indeed her, I had no second thoughts about bringing her flowers and inviting her for dinner. Subconsciously, perhaps, this was the moment I had been waiting for all those years.

I didn't really believe her when she spoke of an Angel of Music. No doubt she was talented – if she thought it was due to an angel of some sort, I wouldn't object. Her father used to tell us wonderful stories of the North and she believed in them. I had no wish to rip away her dreams. I wanted to support them and fulfill them, from the very first moment.

Not even her disappearance made me a believer. I heard voices there… hers and another one. I recognized hers, but the other was unfamiliar. Yet its pure softness and affectionate nature was like liquid gold. Such a voice was more than divine… but, despite all its beauty, it remained a male voice. And when I entered to find the dressing room empty, my concerns arose immediately.

Christine reappeared the next day, after practically the whole town knew that the diva had fled straight after the gala night, to who-knows-where. It caused quite a commotion. The papers had a lot to write about, the patrons were helpless and La Carlotta was having a tantrum after her reappearance.

We had all received notes with specific instructions. They were foreboding somehow, and not just because of the strange handwriting and the blood red ink. At first, it seemed to be just a clever, deep-running joke of some strange prankster. Too soon we learned that the Phantom didn't like to be ignored.

Il Muto… now that was a catastrophe for everyone. Not only did Carlotta croak in the middle of the performance, but Buquet "entered" the stage in a noose. On top of it all, the Phantom had made a shocking appearance and disappearance, warning us all again. There was no doubt that the threatening notes weren't simply sent for a good laugh. The man was deadly serious.

Christine was crushed. Apparently, she thought that the Phantom would kill me if he saw us together, so she led me to the roof hastily, where she proceeded to explain at least a few things to me. Apparently, not only was the Phantom her "angel", but he had also kidnapped her after the performance of Hannibal. Back then, I was willing to ignore everything and calm her. I still didn't fully believe her.

How could I? I had been raised as a rational man, not a ghost-believing coward. It seemed to be a scary story of the ballet rats at first, but the tragedy progressed with increasing speed. How wrong were we to think that after Christine and I promised love to each other, our troubles would end and we would live happily, free from his shadow?

The masquerade… I remember it clearly. Paper faces on parade, they said. The ghost had been gone for months, with no sight or sound of him. Many believed that he had either moved on to another opera house or simply chose to spend his time elsewhere. As long as he wouldn't bother us, I was willing to let him go where he wanted to. I was willing to forget.

And then he came. With contempt in his golden eyes, clad in an elaborate crimson costume and wearing a skull-like mask, he appeared out of nowhere to put us in our places again. All of us – the managers, Carlotta, Piangi, even Christine. I had had enough of it then. But with an amazing trick, he vanished in front of our eyes through a trap door.

What I saw when I jumped in behind him was spectacular and terrifying. It was a mirrored room, without exits. Wherever I looked I saw him. And then, Madame Giry came to rescue me from the prison before something would happen to me. Naturally, the Phantom had made his escape without problems.

After persuading her to speak, Madame Giry told me what she knew. Under any other circumstances, I would say that the story of his life couldn't have been more tragic and there wasn't a person in this world who deserved pity more than him. Due to a disfigured face, he was an outcast of society, doomed to travel the world alone. He went to the most extraordinary places of the planet and built wonders, performed magic… it seemed that there was nothing he couldn't do.

And then, he returned to his homeland, because of his love of music, and helped construct the building I was sitting in. When all was ready, however, he chose solitude rather than frightened stares and disappeared from the face of the earth, allowing only those precious few who had shown him kindness to his underground home. Judging by the extent of his talents, if the Opera was considered a wonder of a building, there must have been an amazing palace buried underneath it.

Why Christine? I kept asking myself that question on and on. Why would a man who had seen so much of the world choose to pretend to be an angel of a chorus girl? If the voice I heard had been his, then because he wanted to tutor her, probably. But there had to be secondary reasons. Christine loved music and that gave them a link. As strange as it was, I believed in my theory.

The Phantom was in love with her.

Unbelievable, I thought at the first moment. But I supposed that even murderers have hearts and at the sight of an angel such as Christine, even cold hearts find it hard to resist. But after all I had heard, I could see that despite this love, his way of claiming her was through manipulation through music. Besides, I loved and love her as well, there was no chance I would surrender and let her face such a nightmare on her own. She needed help, support, I knew, for I could see that alone, she couldn't find the strength to resist.

When she disappeared that morning to the cemetery, I nearly had a heart attack. Visiting her father's grave is important for her, I know, but I was supposed to guard her. Leaving her alone was the worst thing we could have done at the moment, when that monster was after her.

I arrived to Perros just in the nick of time. Even from the distance, I could hear strange singing, entrancing notes that took away her strength. A dark figure in the middle of all of the white, she was walking towards the eerily lit mausoleum, from which the singing seemed to echo.

We escaped that day, but couldn't today. Today was indeed the point of no return, that was the one thing on which I could willingly agree with the Phantom.

Christine, clad in a wedding dress, was despairing, I was tied to the portcullis and he was snarling commands at her, forcing her to choose between the two of us. Either way she would choose, I would die. Either by his hand or of a broken heart.

And then she kissed him! Willingly, she put everything aside and out of pity, she kissed the Phantom, whose horrible face was on full display after she had snatched the mask minutes before. I could only stare, bewildered and shocked, at how far she was willing to go to end this nightmare. She was sacrificing herself… for me.

I don't know what happened to him after she released him. How did she manage to change his mind through her affection, I would never know. But in the next moment, he let her go, looking away, clearly pained.

"Take her, forget me, forget all of this!" he snarled, walking through the water back to his underground chambers.

"Leave me alone! Forget all you've seen!" He never looked back.

Christine rushed to me, untying the ropes that held me in place as quickly as her little fingers allowed her. In the distance, a mob was chanting something. With each moment, the angry voices seemed to be closer.

"Take the boat – swear to me never to tell the secret you know of the Angel in Hell!" His voice was broken as he was sending us away. Only then did I notice the gondola near the bank of the lake. That was probably the way he got past the lake. And if he was letting us have it…

"Go now! Go now and leave me!"

There had to be another way out. The Phantom disappeared from our sight. I finally managed to get out of that accursed rope and embraced Christine tightly. We were free – it was over, he was letting us go. I had no idea why, but he was letting us go.

"Christine," I grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the water to the gondola. "Come on, we have to get out of here, the mob will arrive any minute."

But her gaze was fixed on the place where we had seen the Phantom for the last time, with a strange flicker passing through her eyes. "Raoul… I must go."

"What?" I asked, surprised, as I began untying the gondola.

"I… I have to go see him." she stuttered, "I must."

"Christine, what are you saying? He's letting us go! We're free! Any minute, the mob could arrive!"

"I won't leave just like that, Raoul." She whispered, somehow ashamed.

"You can't go there – he's probably preparing an escape route. They won't catch him, he will be fine, let's just go before the mob arrives!" I said desperately.

But Christine turned to me, with a sudden firmness in her eyes. I had always thought that she was a bit childish and dreamlike, the one who had her head in the clouds. I was happy that she had her dreams, her stories and never bothered to try to pull her back into reality. Her tales of angels and her father's stories were always the light of the long-gone childhood.

But now, she seemed completely mature, with no trace of that naivety that caused her to blindly believe in these tales. Her feet were now on the ground and she completely understood what was happening. She was acutely aware of the presence of the mob, she knew we were free to go, she knew that every wasted second could mean our demise.

Yet still she refused to go, whether it was because of her utter pity for the Phantom or some shame that she rejected and betrayed him. But… did she reject him?

I looked at her, not daring to speak when she was looking at me with such devotion. I had always known there was a bond between herself and her father, a bond through music. That was one reason why his death had affected her so. It seemed that now, after she had arrived to the Opera and began her career there, she transferred this bondage to her relationship with the Phantom, her Angel of Music, who must have been the only companion she relied on throughout the years she had spent in the Opera House.

Their bond was something I knew I couldn't break, no matter how hard I tried. Music was the one thing out of my reach. Perhaps this moment would truly haunt us until we would die if she wouldn't go there and make peace with her past one last time. If it would be the last time.

Deep within me, I sensed that I registered some kind of change within Christine. It wasn't her sudden mature behavior. It seemed to be something I had overlooked in the past and now that it was crystal clear, I could finally see it. It had always been there, I had just been blinded by my own views of the world.

"Then go." I whispered to her. I wanted to say that I would wait, but she knew that I would.

Gathering up her skirts, Christine got out of the water and rushed to the organ, skillfully finding her way. She then entered the chambers where the Phantom had fled and disappeared from sight. I thought I heard a faint sound of cymbals from somewhere, but perhaps it had just been my imagination.

I readied the gondola and waited. Inside, however, I sensed that I was to be the Charon of their love, strange as that love was, and that thought was unsettling. Still, I waited. No matter if I would row back alone or with her, there was no going back for any of us.