Obsession. What hell it is!

However, it isn't entirely bad, for now I constantly have inspiration for creative things. Music, pictures, and architectural designs flow from my fingers daily.

All because of Cameron.

"What are you drawing now?" sighed François rather impatiently as Christine sat at the organ bench, drawing another yet another picture of Cameron. She'd been drawing ever since his arrival

"Nothing," she muttered, adding the finishing touches to Cameron's eyes and putting the picture up in a safe place to complete later.

She then turned to him and started to give the attention that she believed he wanted. "So, what has been going on up there lately?" she asked, glancing upwards to signify what she meant by up there.

He shrugged. "Not much. Why don't you come look for yourself?" he added, putting emphasis on the fact that she hadn't been seen much around the upper levels of the Opera as of late.

"I'm busy," she replied, shrugging in a noncommittal gesture and turning back to the organ bench, starting to write some more of a new piece of music that she'd come up with.

"You're busy quite often lately," he noted. "Why?"

"Quit asking questions," she said with rather stunning authority, glaring at him. She didn't want him asking so many questions when all the answers were related to Cameron. "It gets quite annoying, you poking and prodding all the time."

He raised his eyebrows. "My apologies," he said, surprised. "May I ask why you're acting so defensive all of a sudden? Is it the morphine?"

"No," she sighed, turning back to her composition, "I quit."

All because of Cameron, she added in thought.

"That's good," he said, nodding and smiling. He felt proud of her for this accomplishment. "That's better for you, anyway."

She nodded shortly and then sat there for a moment.

Then, suddenly, she was overcome with the urge to go up above and see Cameron, so she rose and grabbed her cloak, putting it over her shoulders. "I'm going out," she informed him.

"Finally!" he exclaimed, standing up and stretching. "I was wondering if you'd leave sometime."

"Hmm," she murmured distractedly, stepping onto the gondola and grabbing the paddle, starting to row away.

"I'll be back," she called out to François, who stood on the shore of the lake, a surprised expression on his face, as he hadn't expected her to leave him like she was.

She soon was back at the tiny window by the stage where she'd first met Cameron a mere two weeks ago. She looked around the stage for him, and suddenly, there he was.

He was standing in the middle of the stage, his hands on his hips and his blonde hair glistening in the light, smiling that lovable smile that she adored. "Well, are we going to rehearse this bloody notorious dance or not?" he called out to his fellow chorus members, allowing her to hear him speak for the first time.

His voice! She loved it. Letting out a small, dreamy sigh, she rested her chin on her hands, wishing that he would never stop speaking.

Speak again, she thought rather wistfully. Speak again, Cameron, for me...

He looked around in surprise. "Who said that?" he asked. "Someone told me to speak again."

She jolted. Had she said that aloud? Apparently. She slunk into the shadows so that she wouldn't be seen.

"Well, whoever it was," one of the male choristers said with a laugh, "you granted their wish!"

He laughed good-naturedly. "I did, didn't I? Now come, my friends - let's rehearse!"

Then he started dancing about onstage. No one joined him, though, but she didn't think that he looked foolish because she was so infatuated with him, and just watching him move pleased her.

He's a good dancer, she thought, sighing again as the other male choristers finally started dancing along with Cameron. How wonderful he was...

Who will sing for me?
Who will be my angel?
When will my angel come find me?

Cameron was the one singing!

Upon this fact being revealed to her, she gasped. His voice - it was wonderful! Certainly, it needed work, but... it was beautiful!

She then thought about what the song said: Who will be my angel?

Well, she knew someone, even though that someone would probably never agree to it because they were a recluse.

Who will be my angel?

That's what Cameron asked in song today, with his beautiful voice that needs a tiny bit of perfection.

Well, I could be his angel, I thought to myself for a moment, but then I instantly pushed that idea out from my mind.

The very thought is inconceivable! Impossible! I can never be with Cameron, not ever, not ever... not in any form, angel or human. He's the definition of perfection, and I... well, I don't even know what I'm the definition of. Disgusting, perhaps.

Although I like the thought of being an angel...

About a week later, Christine sat silently behind the wall of the chapel, not really doing anything but sitting. There was nothing better for her to do.

Then, suddenly, since it was empty in the chapel, she thought it safe enough to sing.

Kyrie eleison...
Christe eleison...
Kyrie eleison...
Christe eleison...

She ended the song with high notes, creating an angelic sweetness of sound and causing the end to resonate through the empty chapel. Then she sat silently, hugging her knees to her chest and resting her her chin on her knees.

"Er, excuse me... um... voice?"

She peeked out the tiny window that led to the chapel and saw Cameron standing in the center of the chapel, looking about curiously. This caused her to lean back, wincing at her carelessness.

Damn! she thought. She hadn't known he was there, or else she wouldn't have made any noise whatsoever.

"Voice? Oh, please do answer me!" called out Cameron pleadingly.

She let out a resigned sigh, knowing that it would be foolish, but better, if she answered him.

After making sure that her voice still had resonating power thanks to ventriloquism, she replied, "Yes?"

"Oh!" called out Cameron delightedly, and she noticed that he was still looking around, trying to see where her voice was coming from. "You're still here!"

"Yes, I am," she said. "What is it that you wanted?"

There was a pause for a moment. Then he asked, "Are - are you the Angel of Music?"

She drew her breath in sharply at this question. She? The Angel of Music? She couldn't be. Never.

It might be my only chance to be with him - even if it's not the way that I want to be with him, she thought. To be an angel... I'm nothing near an angel, but I could be. He doesn't know who I am, and he never will. I could be his angel... his Angel of Music...

Taking a breath, she replied, "Yes. Yes, Cameron, I am your Angel of Music."

"How do you know my name?" he asked, although she noticed that he sounded delighted at her answer.

"Well, I'm your Angel, Cameron," she said, feeling somewhat surprised that he was buying this. "I'm supposed to know your name. Now, tonight we shall have a lesson. Meet me in the dressing room with the huge mirror at seven o'clock."

"But, Angel - I can't! The Phantom uses that mirror to come out here from where she lives!" He suddenly sounded very fearful.

She smiled to herself. "No, she won't hurt you, Cameron," she said. "I'll protect you from The Phantom. That's what angels are supposed to do, after all. Meet me there at seven!"

Then, without saying another word to him, she silently made her way back down to her lair before he could reply.

I am an Angel. Cameron's Angel of Music.

I didn't do it on purpose; it just happened. Tonight, in the dressing room that I use to access the outside world, we will have our first lesson.

My voice is my one beauty, my one power, my only hope. It's the only hope I have of ever being relatively close to him.

I can't have him, I know, but I can have his voice...