A ghostly whisper, barely audible over the sound of the carriage, echoed in her ears. Christine thought she had heard someone call out her name. She glanced behind her, hoping to find someone there. Her eyes met only a lonely street and dark windows.
"Armand, did you hear that?" she asked, her eyes still scanning the street behind her.
"I'm sorry, Madame. I heard nothing."
Christine sighed resignedly. Everyday that went by without a memory or recognition seemed to steal another piece of her soul. Not that she wasn't content with Erik. She loved him, and she wanted to be truly happy with him, but her life simply didn't feel complete. For some reason unknown to her, the man from her memory was constantly on her mind. She knew every curve of his face, where every strand of hair lay. She caught herself thinking about him late at night, imaging him standing before her, speaking to her. In her mind his voice was warm and soothing; it brought calm to her soul. She knew that her heart belonged with Erik's, but this man stirred a different sensation within her. When Erik sang, he aroused a frenzied passion within her, but the thought of this other man made her feel safe and loved. What was she thinking? She had a husband who loved her to no end, and yet her thoughts were filled with a man who probably didn't even exist. Christine shook her head, trying to remove the guilt that consumed her.
"Madame?" Armand spoke, his hand extended to help her from the carriage. "You seem quite distracted lately. Is everything alright?"
"Of course," she lied, offering him a smile. "I shall not be requiring your services tomorrow night. I think I will spend the evening at home."
"As you wish, Madame," he replied as he tipped his hat to her.
Christine moved skillfully through the obscurity of the Opera house. She had learned well to find her way in darkness; it was now like instinct to her. As she moved towards her room, a voice behind Christine froze her blood.
"Where have you been?"
Christine spun around. Erik emerged from the shadows behind her. "Erik, I…"
"You thought I was asleep. Where is it that you have been sneaking off to?" he asked, approaching her.
Christine's mouth hung agape. She tried to find an explanation for her absence, but she knew that it was useless trying to lie to Erik. She searched his eyes and began to speak, her bottom lip trembling, "I hired a driver to take me through the city at night. I used some of your money to pay him. I know that you forbid me to leave, but I couldn't resist." Her head dropped, "I'm sorry."
Erik's hardened features began to soften. "I'm sorry if I made you feel like a prisoner in your own home. I wish you to continue your nightly rides, if it is what will make you happy."
"I would be happier if you would join me," she looked up hopefully.
"Who am I to deny my wife," he replied, stroking her cheek. Christine leaned into his touch, savoring the feel of his skin upon hers.
"I have some business to tend to tomorrow. I may be gone all day. I ask you not to leave without me ever again."
"I will obey, but I still don't understand why you act this way sometimes," she answered.
"I have my reasons."
Christine nodded, faithfully accepting her husband's answer. She took his hand and began to lead him toward her room. "Come, it's late. We should retire."
Erik lay rigidly in the bed, unable to adjust to the change from his coffin. Christine curled up beside him, nuzzling her face into his neck. She gently began to stroke his arm, her fingers leaving burning trails within his skin. She felt his body begin to quiver, reacting to her touch.
"Erik…" she spoke, desire in her voice, "sing for me."
He looked down upon her pleading eyes. She awakened in him emotions and longings he had never known. She could ask him anything and he would be unable to deny her. Softly his ethereal voice surrounded her.
"Say you want me with me with you, here beside you. Anywhere you go, let me go too. Christine, that's all I ask of you."
Erik's voice filled her head, drowning out all other thoughts. She felt him consume her, taking over all of her being. She felt herself moving, almost flying. She was no longer in her bed, but standing atop a snowy rooftop. The arms that held her were not Erik's; the voice that sang to her didn't belong to him. She turned to look behind her, to see the face of the man that now caressed her. She became lost in the crystal blue eyes that claimed her gaze. Somehow she felt at home there.
"Christine?" Erik's voice pulled her back to reality.
"Hmm?" she answered lazily.
"You seemed to be somewhere else," he said with a puzzled look.
"I was. Your voice lifted me straight to heaven on angels' wings," she replied, pulling tightly against him.
"There are no angels," he said coldly.
"I…I'm sorry," she said, bewildered by his reaction. "I was just trying to complement you."
Once again he had upset and confused her. She couldn't possibly understand why he would say such things. He would see to it that she never would. "No. It is I who should apologize. You did nothing wrong."
Christine lifted her head, placing kisses along Erik's jaw line until her lips reached his. She let them linger there for a moment before laying her head on his chest and drifting off to sleep, the warmth of her dream man's arms still hanging upon her.