I sipped tea at the kitchen table as I watched Christine making breakfast. The kitchen didn't seem so bright and overwhelming in the morning; the rising sun was sending a pleasant, warm orange glow over the room. I felt surprisingly calm.

"Where is the Vicomte?" I asked as she cracked an egg over a dish.

Christine hesitated, then said, "He left fairly early. He has business he needs to discuss with some man in Paris. He doesn't usually make it for breakfast, but he's back for dinner sometimes."

I looked at her sympathetically. "So you spend the days alone?"

She sighed. "It's not as horrible as you make it sound. I mean, that's how all wives have it. I keep the house in order, while my husband… well… takes care of other things. That's life."

I shrugged. "If you say so, Madame. If you say so."

She looked hurt after this, and didn't talk to me very much. Suddenly, without warning, she looked up at me with those startling blue eyes, frustration in her voice. "What do you think I should be doing?"

I sipped the tea slowly, choosing my words carefully. "You strike me as someone who was meant to do more with their life." She gave me a piercing glare. "What is a greater honor than being loved by the Vicomte de Chagny? What is more fulfilling than being a wife, and soon, a mother? What is more fulfilling than love, Monsieur Delacroix?"

"Nothing," I said, taking another sip, and then looking down and adding quietly, "If you i are /i in love."

She had her back turned to me when I looked up, and didn't face me. "I don't want to talk to you anymore. I don't know who you think you are or what you think you know. But I don't want to talk about this with you any longer."

I respected her wishes and went into the parlor. The piano I had seen the night before looked even more tempting in the morning glow. I hadn't played in ages. I found some dusty tuning wedges on the mantle, and after tuning it properly, I sat down and stretched my fingers across the keys. I felt impulses running through my body, tingling in my finger tips. I was aching to play. I struck a chord lightly. Then I took off.

I wasn't even thinking as my fingers danced across the keys. I was completely intoxicated by the sound that was filling the air. It was hard to say which I had missed more: Christine or the instrument I adored above all others. The piano, at least, I could master, I could understand and depend on to always follow the same rules. Understanding, however, grew boring, I found, as I could master almost any art or skill that I taught myself. Dependability also, no matter how rare it had been in my life, I sometimes found was rather dull. I sometimes wonder if that was why I was so attracted to the unstable girl. She was one of the first things that I'd ever felt challenged by.

I wasn't thinking about any of these things as I played, though. My mind was completely blank; it was almost therapeutic. I didn't hear Christine come in the room. I didn't notice her presence until she began to sing along to the music.

"' i My heart foreseeing your condemnation, into this tomb I made my way by stealth, and here, far from every human gaze, in your arms I wished to die... /i '"

I turned around and looked at her, tears in my eyes. Her tears had already fallen and begun rolling down her cheek. She was shaking, and I was suddenly terrified. "Madame-?"

"Don't even try to tell me its not you, Erik."

I looked away. She was still staring. I wished she'd stop.

"Are you an angel?"

I smirked. "Those were your words my dear, not mine."

She sobbed inwardly. "It is you, it really is! My God, am I alive, Erik? Am I dreaming? Where is your face? Is it your soul I'm seeing? Is this how you were meant to be in life? Is this God's apology to you, or his punishment to me? Has he sent you for vengeance? It was me who killed you, Erik, wasn't it? I killed one of God's angels, and now you won't let me forget it!"

She was in hysterics. She barely whimpered the last words when she fell to the ground crying. I was in awe.

"Child, please, I'm not dead, and you aren't being punished. Christine, listen to me, I never died. I made this mask, like I told you I would. Don't you remember? I'm alive, believe me!"

She was still crying. "I don't believe this. I can't believe this. You aren't here. You aren't."

I suddenly felt sick. I should never have done this. How could I have imagined she wouldn't have known it was me? I was hurting us both. I couldn't bear the sight any longer.

"I should go."

"No!" she cried as she grabbed the hem of my dress pants. "No, no, you can't leave me here. I'm all alone, Erik, I can't pretend it isn't true. I hate you for the things you said to me in the kitchen, and yet I love you for the very same reason. I don't want to hear those words, Erik, I don't want to think about this half-life I'm living. No one else speaks that way to me- my world is full of empty parties and formalities, petty small talk and status. I could almost begin to forget you, forget the music, forget everything, but now… now that I almost lost you forever, now that I have seen you, heard you again, I can't let you go. I can't let you, otherwise everything I truly am is gone with you forever. Please don't leave me alone. Erik, I've been dreaming of what I'd do if I could see you just one more time, of how I could have made it up to you, how I could have shown you how I really felt. I have that chance now. You can't leave." She took a breath, and then said very quietly, "I love you, Erik."

My whole life I had never heard those words spoken, and I felt myself weaken. I recovered, though, telling myself over and over not to fall into this again, not to believe I could be happy.

"You're married to the Vicomte. That was your choice; we can't change that."

She shook her head. "No, no, I don't care; we can do anything we want! I know we can. Erik, if you wanted to, you could do anything for us. I know it."

I felt sick again. "It doesn't matter. You chose him."

"Say you love me, Erik… please… say it."

"Why?"

"Please, I need to hear it." I wished she wouldn't look at me that way.

"Of course I love you, but it doesn't matter. You're with him."

She shook her head again. "I don't care. We'll run away."

That was it. I'd had it. I kicked over a lamp, trembling.

"Don't lie to me!"

She cowered on the floor, speechless.

Finally, I gained some composure. "You're toying with me again, Christine. But I refuse to play this deadly game of yours. Don't be selfish. You left me alone; why shouldn't I do the same to you? I wanted to die, Christine, I truly did. But I'm alive now, and I'm not going to fall into the same trap. You wouldn't run away. You wouldn't hurt your precious husband like that; you wouldn't abandon this new life for the unknown. You'll change your mind by the time the week is out."

She was crying even harder. I didn't think it was possible. "Why did you come here, then? Why did you come back to me if you don't want me anymore?"

She was right. I felt the venom draining, I felt myself longing to collapse on the floor next to her, wrap my arms around her, and just cry with her. But I couldn't.

"I made a mistake," I said coldly.

She closed her eyes and nodded. There was a long silence.

"Please stay anyway, Erik. I won't tell him. I won't tell anyone."

She looked up at me, pleading, her beautiful face stained with tears.

I couldn't refuse her.