A/N: I know, I know, it's been forever since I've updated -holds up a tray of baked goods as a buffer- Don't kill me, please! Here, have some E/C fluff :) Enjoy it while it lasts; there won't be much of it in this 'fic, unfortunately.

Oh! And by the way, because I love and adore my reviewers oh so very much, I'll be posting replies to as many as I can from now on at the end of each chapter. No fair scrolling down to the end; you have to read it first! LOL. Okay, now seriously, back to the story...

In that mere fifteen minutes of glorious peace, I had single-handedly managed to cover my entire desk, bench, floor, end table and organ in stacks upon stacks of sheet music. The long, aching fingers of my left hand glided swiftly over the organ's ivory and ebony keys, while those of my right acted as frantic catalysts to translate each and every note onto paper, pausing only to dip the end of my quill into a bottle of ink at the end of each measure. Each time I finished a sheet, I would only bother to glance at it for the briefest of moments before casting it haphazardly to the side; I could not be inconvenienced with organization or cleanliness while composing the greatest opera of all time!

I breathed deeply, reveling in the familiar vibrations of the magnificent melody in my chest. My head swayed in time in a gentle rocking motion from side to side, front to back. The music poured from somewhere in the depths of my soul, pleasantly surprising even myself. And so my musical journey continued, uninterrupted and with mounting passion, for those magnificent fifteen minutes, until quite suddenly...

A very familiar, hair-raising, ear-piercing shriek echoed overhead, jolting me from my trance; my fingers faltered on the organ keys, producing a rather unpleasant, sharp chord. I growled viciously, my eyes rolling upwards as if my glare could reach the obnoxious Italian diva through five levels of stone. However, I relaxed slightly after a moment, suddenly flooded with relief.

What else could make Carlotta howl in such a wounded fashion if not her replacement by Christine in the performance that night?

A nasty little voice in the back of my head replied, Well, let's see... her eggs could have been over-cooked, her dress not completed in time, her poodles run over by a stage coach...

I silenced the voice with an irritated snarl, rising from my organ with a twirl of my cloak. I leapt nimbly into my boat and poled across the lake as quickly as my aching biceps would allow, straining to hear any more little snippets that might hint at the managers' verdict. Occasionally Carlotta would let out a nasal wail, and once I heard a door slam overhead, but still I did not know the source of her distress for certain; I could only guess and hope that those two blockheads Andre and Firmin had had a change of heart in accordance with my letters, and that each shriek from Carlotta equaled a radiant smile from my beautiful Christine.

Finally I reached the opposite shore of the lake, and raced around the dim corner.

And promptly smacked into a flustered Christine, just on her way down to see me. We both fell back with matching screams; I landed hard on my rear end and skidded down the slick decline with a few choice words that deepened the blush on Christine's cheeks. Meanwhile, she had tripped, but caught herself promptly, her reflexes apparently much better than my own.

"I'm so sorry!" she cried, rushing down the slope and dropping to her knees beside me. She grabbed my shoulders and looked deeply into my eyes, her brow creased in concern. "Are you hurt, mon ange?"

I didn't answer her for a moment, not because I was actually hurt, but because... well... it was nice to be fussed over. After a moment, I offered a small smile, bringing one hand up to rest gently on top of hers.

"No, no, it was my fault. I should have known better than to race blindly through these halls." I grinned devilishly. "Dangerous business, this whole Phantom thing..."

She laughed, tilting her curly head backwards as the sweet sound saturated my soul. With very little effort, she climbed back to her feet, and offered her hands to me. I stared at them for a moment, and some thin strand within me seemed to snap. I nearly broke down then, sobbing like a small child in front of this untarnished beauty, who stood before me, her arms outstretched to me as if it were nothing.

But it was everything in the world to me.

She saw the tears in my eyes and dropped to her knees once more, her warm fingers caressing the unmasked side of my face gently. "Angel, what's wrong?" she whispered.

I turned my face away from her, unable to stare into those gentle eyes. "No one has ever cared for me before, Christine," I told her honestly. "Your compassion means the world to me." My lips twisted in a bitter smile. "Usually people throw me to the floor, not help me from it."

Her own eyes misted with tears as she continued to stroke my cheek softly. She turned my face towards her, and hesitantly I met her gaze.

I was convinced that it was all a wonderful dream, that it could not possibly happen in reality. Slowly, her face drew close, her eyes locked with mine, until I could feel her warm, moist breath against my lips. Her hands rested lightly on my face, and I closed my eyes, waiting for the impossible...

But just as her lips came within a millimeter of my own, another of Carlotta's shrieks pierced the silence of the dark cellar, startling us both. Christine turned away quickly, her cheeks turning five shades of red. She pulled her knees up to her chest, and buried her face in them. I watched her, still completely stunned, as she began to giggle. Soon, her laughter filled the cold, dark corridor, and I couldn't help but begin to chuckle as well; her joy was contagious. We both sat there for a good amount of time, happy just to be together, laughing hysterically at absolutely nothing. Finally, our laughter faded into silence, and I glanced mischievously at the stone ceiling, then at Christine.

"What would you say if I offered you the opportunity to view the Opera Populaire from an entirely new perspective?" I asked her suddenly.

Christine grinned, following my gaze to the trap door just above our heads. "From the eyes of the mysterious Opera Ghost, perhaps?"

I laughed in a mockingly genteel manner. "Oh, come now, Christine, you know there's no such thing as ghosts..." Her laughter mingled with mine.

"You sound like Raoul," she commented. I cringed, flashing her an offended glare, which only made her laugh harder. Still gasping for breath between bursts of giggles, we both climbed to our feet, and I hoisted her up (being very careful to avoid the temptation of peeking up her skirt- take that, Monsieurs Andre and Firmin. Puerile! Indeed!) through the trap door, then climbed in myself. It was even darker in the crawl space than in the corridor below, but I could see Christine's eyes sparkle in delight with the little light coming through the crack in the trap door.

"Alright, lesson number one in being an Opera Ghost," I announced in a mockingly serious tone. Christine giggled, but clamped her hand over her mouth. "Is silence. No one must notice your presence under any circumstances unless you wish to make an appearance, which should be done as infrequently as possible." I heard her nod, and felt for her hand in the darkness. "If for some reason you become afraid, we can leave immediately..."

"I'll be fine!" Christine assured me, unable to conceal the childlike excitement in her voice. "Let's go..."

"Quietly," I emphasized again. She sighed in exasperation, and I smiled. "Alright. Grab my ankle so you don't fall behind. That's it. Now if you will, Mademoiselle Daaé, follow me."

A/N: Like it? Hate it? Review please-sends Erik and Christine out to do a little jig as a bribe- Ahem, yes, on to the responses to my lovely reviewers whom I absolutely adore...

Hriviel: Yes, I was extremely upset when I couldn't find the movie-version of the lyrics, and as I have only seen the movie three times -sighs sadly- I don't have them memorized unless they're on the soundtrack. However, I found this neat little site with a comparison of the two versions of every song, including those not on the movie soundtrack, so I'll go back and change those lyrics ASAP. Thanks for noting those, though! It assures me that you're paying attention. LOL!

Sakume: "Addicted list?" Woo hoo-does happy dance- Thank you so much! You flatter me; I'm blushing like a maniac.

Shadow Fox Forever: Thank you so much for continuing to read and review:) It's people like you that make me continue writing even when I feel like my fingers are about to fall off. -huggles- Cookie?

Venus725: I believe you have been my most devoted reviewer. -bows at your feet- Thank you, thank you, thank you! I can't express to you how much I appreciate it.

Pickledishkiller: Awesome screen name:) Thank you... that was the point; to add a little Erik-ish humor to that scene. I'm glad you liked my portrayal of Madame Giry as well... LOL... she kicks butt-grins-

Masako Moonshade: Hey, better late than never! LOL. Welcome, and thanks for reviewing. Hyperventilating-blushes- Awww, shucks... Thanks... I don't deserve it, and I really don't know how to reply to that, but... er... have a cookie? LOL.

I apologize so much to those of you whom I couldn't respond to; it's been a very hectic week, and I'm running on about two hours of sleep, so if you drop me another review -hint hint- I'll definitely respond next time. :) -trounces off to get coffee and write next chapter-