A/N: Argggh, I'm getting rather frustrated with the previous chapter; there are several spelling errors and one problem with the lyrics ("PURGE", dangit...), but for some reason I can't replace it. -says several naughty words- Anyway, sorry about that. This will be the last short-ish chapter for quite awhile; the next is VERY long, so it might be awhile before I finish it. Thanks for your patience, and I promise, I will update ASAP. :)

Disclaimer-laughs like a maniac- Phantom... mine... -dies-

I swayed gently over the organ, my fingers dancing over the ivory keys. Christine stirred in the other room, and I smiled without opening my eyes. I had been writing music all night- quietly, of course, so as not to disturb my guest- for the best opera Paris had ever seen. I had entitled it Don Juan Triumphant!, and would begin teaching the role of the lead soprano to Christine as soon as I finished. It was with haste, therefore, that I had scribbled down Acts Two and Three, both finished in the course of a few hours. Yet again, Christine had become my inspiration, not only of the songs themselves (though this was true as well) but to finish the collection with all due speed.

Her angelic voice broke the still morning air and my concentration, though for the moment I attempted to keep my focus on the song in progress so that I might teach it to her later in the day.

I remember there was mist...

Swirling mist upon a vast, glassy lake...

There were candles all around

And on the lake there was a boat,

And in the boat there was a man...

I felt her eyes on the back of my head, but continued to run my fingers over the keys with a furious intensity. I heard her footsteps approach me from behind, but still did not turn to look upon my student and beloved. Perhaps... just perhaps... she would come to me of her own accord, confirming or condemning the events of the previous night...

Who was that shape in the shadows?

Whose is the face in the mask?

Her warm, slender fingers caressed my neck, and I shuddered in delight, ignoring the unanswered questions. It did not even occur to me that she would attempt to answer them herself...

The cool, crisp air against the right side of my face broke me from my musical trance with a strangled yelp of rage and despair. My wild eyes caught sight of the ivory mask clutched in Christine's hand, and the one sight that I had hoped and prayed never to see...

Those beautiful brown eyes had gone wide, first in horror, then in pity.

Damn you!

You little prying Pandora!

You little demon-

Is this what you wanted to see?

I spun on my heel to glance at my repulsive reflection in the mirror, my heart pounding, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

Curse you!

You little lying Delilah!

You little viper-

Now you cannot ever be free!

Rage suddenly dissolved into immeasurable despair, and I deflated, crumpling into myself and turning my face away from her.

Damn you...

Curse you...

To my utter horror, hot tears began to trickle down my cheeks. I brushed at them angrily, then turned to my pupil, my eyes burning into hers.

Stranger than you dreamt it

Can you even dare to look

Or bear to think of me,

This loathsome gargoyle

Who burns in hell but secretly

Yearns for heaven

Secretly, secretly...

I dropped to my knees in front of her. Her face was tear streaked, her eyes wide, her brow creased in guilt and shame and pity. All traces of anger had disappeared from my own wretched face. I felt naked looking upon her without my mask, shamed and unworthy, but strangely relieved- for she did not cringe back in horror, and that, at least, was something. It felt as if a large burden had been lifted from my chest; I had nothing to hide from her, nothing to lie about. With a shuddering breath, I decided to take the final plunge, revealing my deepest feelings about her, myself, us...

But, Christine...

Fear can turn to love

You'll learn to see

To find the man

Behind the monster,

This repulsive carcass

Who seems a beast but secretly

Dreams of beauty

Secretly, secretly...

I broke down then, unable to hold that trusting, pitying, understanding gaze any longer. I had just screamed at her, called her names, taken out all of my frustration and rage out on my innocent, beautiful Christine... and now she looked upon this abhorrent face with sympathy and... and...love...

I turned my face away in shame.

Oh, Christine...

A cool, smooth, familiar substance brushed my fingertips, and I glanced up momentarily to see Christine, offering my mask to me, her eyes brimming with tears. I accepted it with an understanding nod of my head, and slipped it over my mutilated flesh somberly. When I met her gaze once more, I had dried my tears. I flashed her a brief apologetic look, and she returned it timidly. Our little drama had terminated; now she knew the secret of the Phantom of the Opera, and whether she chose to come back again was entirely up to her. Meanwhile, those obstinate swine who claimed to run my opera house were probably beside themselves wondering where their star had disappeared to.

"Come, we must return," I told her matter-of-factly. "Those two fools who run my theatre will be missing you." She smiled faintly at me, and all misdemeanors were forgotten.

Another A/N: Concerning the title of this chapter... I'm sure there's a title to this sequence, but I don't know it. My sincerest apologies; forgive the newbie, won't you? Here, have a cookie! ;)