When Christine woke up the next morning, she almost immediately noticed that the house was unusually silent. Normally, her father could be heard moving about the house, writing and humming music, or quietly playing the piano or the organ, but today, there was nothing.

"Father?" she asked, rubbing her eyes, as she crawled out of bed, put on her mask, and walked out of her bedroom. She glanced around the lair and saw that her father wasn't anywhere to be seen.

Raising her eyebrows in confusion and shrugging, she walked over to the organ and sat on the bench.

She then noticed a piece of parchment that wasn't a composition sitting on the organ where sheet music normally rested. It was a note that had been written in red ink, which she saw had her name written on it. She picked it up and read it.

Dear Christine,

I've gone out to haunt the Opera a bit and to make arrangements for my salary. Don't worry - I won't be gone long; I'll just be gone long enough to get used to being The Phantom once again.

I'll be back soon, and while I'm gone, you're free to entertain yourself as you wish until I return. However, I would prefer that you practice your piano piece so that I may hear it when I return.

Your obedient servant,

O.G., also known as Father

She smiled a bit as she placed the note back down on the piano, pleased to see that her father was going to be The Phantom again. It would be interesting to observe him as he lurked around the shadows, scaring ballet girls and the like, she was sure.

Deciding that she would do as he preferred, she walked over to the piano, sat at the bench, and began to play Chopin's Prelude in B Minor, the piece that she had been practicing for about a week.

She practiced with furious concentration until she heard the gate open, which told her that her father had arrived.

"Father!" she exclaimed delightedly when she saw the gondola rowing into view, rising from the piano and then running over to the edge of the shore of the lake.

Erik rowed the gondola onto the shore and stepped off. The moment he did, she ran over to him and hugged him, and he welcomed his daughter's embrace happily.

"Good morning, Christine, mon ange; how are you this morning?"

"I'm wonderful, Father." She smiled up at him. "You?"

"Lovely," he replied, smiling back at her and then motioning to the piano. "Did you practice at all?"

She nodded. "Do you want to hear me?"

"Certainly," he replied, sitting on the organ bench and then waiting for her to begin.

She sat down at the piano and began to play Prelude in B Minor again. As she continued, she turned to him and asked, "Now, Father... how did your first day back as The Phantom go?"

"Quite wonderfully, dear. I think I nearly scared the managers to death with my ventriloquism."

She smiled widely, feeling extremely happy for her father. "Did you get your salary worked out?"

"I certainly did; my 20,000 francs will be left in Box Five for me on the first day of every month."

"You got Box Five exclusively as well?" she asked, delighted.

"I did. You'll love it up there, Christine; it's a spectacluar view of the stage. You can see everything." He paused. "Of course, it's all thanks to you, dear, that I'm back to being The Phantom. Had you not convinced me to go to the auction yesterday, I don't think I would have."

She shrugged. "It wasn't anything; I just wanted to see the chandelier get lit up. Did you dislike it, Father?"

"What, the chandelier?"

"Yes. After all, you're the reason that it was on the ground yesterday."

He considered for a moment, then shook his head. "No, I didn't. I always thought that it was a beautiful chandelier, but it seemed that causing it to crash might make for a good distraction should something go wrong during Don Juan."

"Ah," she said, nodding as she then understood.

She was silent for a moment, then she asked, her tone lower, "Did you kill someone today, Father? Did you lasso anyone?"

"No. Nobody irritated me enough, and I also thought that it was a bit early to be committing murders again, considering that I just became The Phantom again today. Why do you ask?" he inquired, raising his eyebrows at her.

"I was just curious. I thought that... if you did sometime, could I - could I... watch?" she asked, her voice her voice transforming into a whisper that was barely audible.

He looked surprised. "I suppose so. Why?"

"I'm not planning on murdering anyone, but I wanted to watch just in case I... have to do it myself someday," she explained, feeling her face flush. She glanced over at him. "I don't want to hurt anyone. I'm just... scared..." - she motioned to the mask with one hand, still playing the piano with the other - "I'm scared I'll get hurt."

"I'll kill anyone who dares to lay a hand on you, Christine," he whispered protectively, kissing her unmasked, undeformed cheek gently. "But if you wish for me to show you how to kill someone, then I will."

She nodded. "Okay."

"Whenever I feel my temper coming to killing point, then I'll run down here, get you, and then you may watch."

She laughed out loud as she finished the song. "I feel better now, Father, thank you."

Soon, Erik gave Christine his consent to accompany him as he wandered around the Opera one day during a haunting.

She watched, fascinated, as he scared the living daylights out of everyone that he used his ventriloquism on, crept through trap doors, and lurked in the shadows with all of the secrecy of a cat. He made a wonderful ghost, she couldn't deny that.

However, as she followed him stealthily, she suddenly felt herself being grabbed from behind and let out a little yelp of alarm.

"Father!" she gasped.

He whirled around just in enough time to see her being dragged out of sight by a scene-shifter named Jean Kessain. Kessain was infamous around the Opera for his constant drunkenness and his ability to take advantage of ballet girls, or, for that matter, any kind of girl. Sometimes, it was almost comical how much to him how much Kessain was like Joseph Buquet.

But now it wasn't comical. Kessain had his daughter, and God only knew what might happen to her if he couldn't get her from his grasp. He shuddered as he imagined it - his 10-year-old daughter, in a hidden corner, with a drunk, mindless, lecherous scene-shifter.

His fatherly instinct to protect her took over, and, his anger boiled over, he followed the sound of her muted and desperate, cries for help.

In a desperate moment, he silently prayed for the first time in decades: "Dear God, it's me... it's Erik. I know it's been a long time, but let me find her quickly, please... let me find her unharmed."

Then, suddenly, the cry was louder. "Father!"

Quickly, silently, he crept towards the sound of her voice. He came to a dark room, where he could hear her muffled cries coming from inside. Peering in the darkness, he saw Kessain's unsightly form hovering over Christine, who was curled up into a tiny ball on the floor. Much to his disgust, he saw perverted lust shining in Kessain's eyes.

Without any hesitation, he reached inside his cloak for his Punjab lasso and pulled it out, quickly walking behind Kessain and putting the noose around his neck.

Tightening it, he asked, "Do you remember that killing lesson that you told me you wanted, Christine?"

"Yes" was the barely heard reply.

"Well, you're going to get it - right now!" he replied, pinning Kessain to the floor and pulling the Punjab tighter and tighter as Kessain gagged and struggled as much as a drunken man could.

When Kessain's neck snapped, the pleasure he used to feel from killing rushed back through him, and he smiled with satisfaction as he dragged the body away and tied the lasso to the flies.

He walked back into the room and offered his hand to Christine, who took it and rose with his assistance.

"Did he hurt you?" he hissed. "Did he touch you?"

"No," she whispered, trembling and then starting to sob as she threw her arms around him. "Oh, Father - I was so scared!"

"It's all right, ma cherie," he whispered soothingly, wrapping his arms around her protectively. "He won't hurt you again. Nobody will."

After a moment, he pulled away from her and took her hand. "Come on - let's go back to the lair before they catch us here."

She wiped her eyes and sighed with relief. "Thank you, Father."

"You don't need to thank me, Christine. I'm supposed to protect you from the bad people in the world."

As the weeks went by, Christine, too petrified to accompany Erik above ground, stayed at the lair while Erik, his lust to kill renewed, stalked about the Opera, killing any man who he believed would dare to touch his daughter. Nobody who might harm his angel would be alive if he had his way, which, in the end, he always did.