Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of the Phantom of the Opera, and owe all credit to Gaston Leroux. Certain elements of the story have also been borrowed from Susan Kay's The Phantom as well as Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical.

Raoul peeked cautiously into Christine's bedroom, hoping he could bring this little game of hide and seek to an end. He had been searching the house for just over half an hour now, and still had not managed to find her. The rumpled comforter and pillows indicated that she had been there at some point today, but she was definitely elsewhere at this point.

Raoul let out a disappointed sigh—he couldn't imagine that this was what either of them wanted to remember as the precursor to their wedding.

Although Raoul was determined to make amends, he still thought Christine had been completely unreasonable. In his eyes they owed Erik no favors, and he would be damned before he let Christine return to that madman.

He caught a glimpse of Christine's maid, Anna, as she rounded the corner of a hallway, and called out to her. She whipped her head around out of surprise, but quickly averted her eyes to the floor once she saw it was Raoul.

"Good day, monsieur," she mumbled with a curtsey.

He had been employing Anna for several weeks now, and it troubled him that she still seemed to feel so awkward in his prescience. Perhaps he'd ask Christine about it later, but for now he just needed to find her.

"Good afternoon, Anna," he said in what he hoped was a friendly tone, "I was just curious if you knew where I might find Christine—I'm afraid I haven't seen her since this morning."

She stole a look into his eyes before casting her gaze downward once again

"I believe she left several hours ago, monsieur. I do not know where she was headed."

Raoul had not even allowed himself to entertain the idea that Christine would have gone to see Erik alone.

He stood silent in the hallway for a moment, horrified at his own naïveté. He allowed his mind to roll over the idea a few times before he felt his stomach grip with fear.

Within seconds he was at the door, yelling forgotten thanks at Anna for her help. Raoul rushed to the stables, pulling a black mare from her stall. He threw a bridle and saddle onto the horse, and hopped onto her back.

He ran his hand through his hair, trying to keep it out of his eyes as he galloped along the Parisian streets. He silently cursed Christine for her careless stunt, but gave the horse another swift kick to the side as he rode towards the Paris Opera House.

Although I knew it was unladylike, I couldn't help leaning out the window of the carriage as it approached the Opera House. Most of the building still stood up defiantly from the surrounding ash and rubble, mocking my tragedy.

Even now I could remember Raoul dragging me up from depths of Erik's lair, the sounds of the mob rising out of the floor. I was already in tears by time I heard the screams of Erik's beloved organ as it was destroyed. Clinging to Raoul with heavy sobs, I prayed that Erik's fate would not be put into the hands of this unruly mob.

Once we made it outside, Raoul stopped me in front of the Opera House, keeping me warmly in his embrace. I calmed down a bit after this, and then asked that we leave right away. Raoul refused and instead insisted that we stay and see this whole thing through. He was just as hungry for Erik's blood as anyone else, if not more.

Slowly we saw the mob began to disperse, clearly disappointed at losing their pray. However, many of the members were still determined to purge the city of the monster and went so far as to set fire to the Opera House. Everyone in Paris must have watched the flames as they licked away at the night sky, all too eager for the story this spectacle promised.

I took in a deep breath in an attempt to collect myself before I stepped out of the carriage. I silently paid the driver, purposefully keeping myself from looking up at the charred remnants of the building. Finally I was able to force myself up the stone steps and through the tattered entrance.

It took me quite a while, but I was able to define enough of the wreckage to figure out what had once been my dressing room. I was not at all surprised to see that the full-length mirror had been completely shattered, the pieces now winking up at me from the blackened floor.

I stepped into the passageway, wincing as the fallen glass cracked loudly under my heels. It wasn't until then that I realized that it was quite possible that just about any sort of individual may have taken up residence in this god-forsaken place, and there was no one here to protect me this time. As long as he was left alone, Erik would not have risked himself just to scare off some wandering thug.

I stumbled through the dark passageway, pressing my hand up against the cold, stone wall for a guide. I reflected on how stupid it had been of me to assume that I would be able to make way through these caverns without even a light to help me. I could only hope that the mob had already set off most of Erik's traps.

Though it took some time, I managed to find my way to the underground lake unscathed. My stomach dropped as I noticed that the boat was not in fact tied to the dock like I had expected. Seeing as I could hardly swim at all, my plans had been wholly contingent on it being there.

Luckily, with a glance further down the lakeside that it had hastily been pulled onto the shore, the oar thrown nonchalantly onto the ground beside it. I realized that it was left in the exact same place Raoul and I had left it, and apparently that's where it had stayed. Had Erik not had a single visitor in the time that had passed?

I took the oar in my hand and settled myself down into the boat. After a few minutes of prodding at the shore, I was able to push the boat off and into the water.

I had never had to row a boat before, and I tried clumsily to steer myself the right direction. Eventually I was able to make some headway and watched the shore fade into the mist behind me.

As I came near the opposite shore, my oar unexpectedly caught on something that was in the water. Out of surprise, I dropped it into the water, landing with a splash. I silently reprimanded myself and carefully leaned over the side of the boat as I tried to reclaim the oar.

Suddenly, an icy hand shot out of the water, grabbing me at the wrist. I let out a small cry as it pulled me over the side and into the cold lake. I began to flail wildly, water filling my lungs as I tried to scream.

In a moment of rationalization, I realized whose hands it must be as I was dragged further down. My vision began to fade, but I used my hands to search out the form that I knew had to be there. Not knowing what else to do, I took the form into my clinging embrace just like the frightened child I was. Finally, I allowed myself to give in to the darkness that had been ebbing away at my consciousness.

Erik, please.