Two weeks passed, and soon the house was filled with wedding planners and florists and dress makers. It made Kerri ill, only because the happiness was a false one. Christine was complaining of nightmares and strange voices constantly. And although Erik had not admitted to it, Kerri knew that they were his doing.

On a particularly warm afternoon, in between late snows, Kerri seized the opportunity to interrogate Christine. She was supposed to be napping, but instead Kerri found her pouring over a letter. She was singing quietly to herself.

"In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came…."

"Christine? Is this a good time?"

She jumped, turning around.

"Oh, yes, of course Kerri. Come in. Was there something you wanted?"

"Just to go for a walk in the garden. It's a gorgeous afternoon. The rose bushes are in bloom."

"Oh, of course. Just give me one moment to find my cloak…" She rummaged through a trunk, pulling out a cape she'd received earlier in the week from Kerri's father.

"Alright, let's go."

She did her best to put on a happy face, as she had been doing daily.

"So what is on your mind? You don't strike me as the sort of girl for idle conversation."

Kerri laughed. "No, I am certainly not. I was curious actually, about you. I know you have been saying that the predicament at the Opera House is very fuzzy in your mind, but I can't help but feel you're lying."

Christine stopped.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I'm talking about. I'm a very good liar, Christine and I can spot dishonesty from a mile away."

Christine spotted a bench in the distance.

"Sit with me." She pleaded.

"Kerri, you have to swear to me not to tell any one. Not even Raoul. No one can know."

"Of course."

Christine sighed, falling silent for a moment.

"He wasn't just a phantom, Kerri. He was my guide, my protector, my teacher. He taught me how to sing, how to love…and how to hate."

"I don't understand…"

"I know I shouldn't, but I can't help myself. After all, I owe him everything. He provided me with so much, and I betrayed him."

"Christine, you aren't making any sense." Kerri thought to herself 'has this girl really cracked?'

"He proposed to me, Kerri. The Phantom of the Paris Opera House proposed to me. He risked his life for me, to make me happy. And I left him to die… But what else could I have done? Stayed with him? That would have killed Raoul. And I do love him, but…"

Kerri shook her head.

"Are you happy Christine?"

"Yes, of course I am! I'm going to be married, live a life of privilege. But I fear that may not come without a price."

"What do you mean?"

"I keep hearing a voice, his voice. The Opera Ghost is singing to me from beyond the grave. At first I thought it was dreaming, but now…" She started to cry.

"I don't know what to do! I can't get married like this, I will not. But I know as long as I live, he'll follow me. I desperately want him to forgive me, Kerri. But I fear that the ghost is as vengeful as the man."

"Christine, are you listening to me?"

The woman nodded.

"Let it go. Let him go. Dwelling on the past does not change it. Learn to live your life. Eventually the ghost will learn the same thing. By ceasing to live, you're letting him win."

Christine sighed.

"You're right. You are right. Where does this wisdom come from?" Christine rose, kissing Kerri on the forehead.

"Who ever chooses to chase you will not be disappointed. Never give up on your dreams."

Kerri smiled.

"That is easier said than done, I fear."

"If you truly want it, anything is possible."

"You have to stop." Kerri sighed, shutting Erik's door.

"Stop what?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"No, I'm afraid I do not."

"God damn it! Could you please stop being so childish? Christine told me everything! For weeks she's been hearing a voice, your voice Erik! And I'll admit it was funny at first, but now, if you will not stop for Christine's sanity or Raoul's happiness, stop for me. Because as much as I loathe Christine, I love my brother. And it would kill him if she cracked. So if you could please just stop…"

"Why don't you read to me?" Erik proposed.

"Why?"

"Because you like reading, and I like watching you."

Kerri smiled.

"Another girl would find that disturbing. I'll be back in a minute."

She returned a moment later, carrying a seemingly old book.

"This was my grandfathers favorite book. He was as crazy as I am, most would say."

"You're not crazy." Erik assured her. Kerri smiled.

"Sit with me. I hate these enormous beds; they make me feel like a toddler again.

Slowly, Erik sat next to Kerri, leaning back against the wall of pillows. She was right; it was a little ridiculous.

Take my hand and lead the way;
tell me all you want to say.
Whisper softly in my ear,
all those things I want to hear.
Kiss my lips and touch my skin;
bring out passions deep within.
Pull me close and hold me near;
take away my pain and fear.
In the darkness of the night,
be my beacon, shine your light.
In the brightness of the sun,
show me that you are the one.
Give me wings so I can fly;
for I can soar when you're nearby.
Enter my heart, break down the wall,
it's time for me to watch it fall.
I've been a prisoner, can't you see?
Break my chains and set me free.
Strip me of my armor tight;
you'll find I won't put up a fight.
Release my soul held deep within . . .
I'm ready now, let love begin.

Erik wasn't sure if he had been listening to the entire poem or not. He found himself unable to tear his gaze from her face. When she read, her eyes lit up, and she wore a small smile, as if the words were playing a game of imagery in her head.

"What?" She giggled, looking at him.

His lips met hers before either of them knew what was going on. At first, Kerri was unsure of herself. It had been a long time since she'd kissed a man, let alone one she was attracted to. She had always heard kissing was some primal instinct, that you knew how to kiss from your first breath, but until then, she hadn't believed it.

The kiss was over almost as soon as it began. Immediately, Erik was up, apologizing. Kerri watched him for a minute, still recovering from the shock of it. Had it been a dream?

"Erik, Erik, look at me." She stopped him from pacing, but he would not look at her.

"Erik, look at me, please." She pleaded, lacing her fingers into his.

"Looking at my feet doesn't count." She laughed softly, bending to meet his eyes.

"Don't apologize."

"But…"

"But' nothing. In case you weren't paying attention, I kissed you back."

He looked into her eyes then, expecting to see pity. Instead, he found amusement, contentment, even euphoria. She wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder. They were a perfect fit; Kerri's head rested just beneath his chin. She sighed, never wanting to let go of the feelings she had.

Lucky for her, neither did Erik.