I played piano the rest of the morning and afternoon. Christine hurried around the mansion doing housework; I could hear her come in and out from time to time. Late in the afternoon, she came into parlor once more and I felt her come up behind me. I stopped playing.

"I used to sometimes get jealous of your pipe organ. Did you know that? When I'd spend days with you in the cellars…. I sometimes felt you focused more on your instrument than you did me. I was a silly child back then. But as much as I feared you, I always did crave your approval above anything else."

I sighed. "Focusing on you is often painful, Christine."

She watched my face for a moment.

"You're mask is amazing. You look…"

"Handsome?" I laughed. "Yes, I've heard. It's terribly hilarious how shallow this world has become, how much attention I get now."

I said that just to make her jealous, and could tell it worked. There were a few moments' pause. Then-

"Can we sing together again, Erik?"

I smirked. "You're so eager to sing these days; no doubt it was a mistake to leave your career."

Her reaction to this was strange. She bowed her head almost in shame and said in a tremulous whisper, "I only want to sing for you."

I was secretly moved, but shrugged. "If you say so, my dear. What would you like me to play?"

She kept her head lowered and said something inaudible.

"Speak up, child."

She looked up at me, took a breath, and suggested, "Something you wrote?"

I played some of my Don Juan Triumphant and taught her to sing the parts I had written especially for her voice. As she sang, I watched her come alive once more, I watched the resurrection of the girl I had loved, watching me in awe, craving my approval, both of us helplessly consumed by the vibrations of the music that flowed within us. It was our shared passion; it brought us together, close in away that neither of us ever would feel with another. I stopped playing.

"Christine..." I was overwhelmed with emotions, my head drooped in despair.

She cautiously stepped towards me and wrapped her arms around my neck. I felt myself grow tense. She hesitated, then leaned her head against my shoulder. She then dared to even kiss my cheek; the one I could feel with. I looked down at her with fearful eyes, but when I met her gaze, so full of adoration, the fear vanished for a moment.

"I love you, Erik. Believe me." She reached up and undid her hair, letting the dark curls cascade freely down her shoulders. She buried her head in my chest.

"You have no idea how I've missed you. I knew the minute I kissed you that terrible night that I didn't belong with Raoul, and I never would, I've just been trying to deny it… Oh Erik, I've been fighting it so long. I just can't anymore. I was so young, so stupid, so selfish. What I've done to both of you is horrible. I don't deserve what I have; I don't deserve what I want. But oh, God, I still want it..."

Her hair brushed lightly against my face. I imagine that if I had a real nose, it would have smelled heavenly. My whole being felt so warm and content, I couldn't even speak. I just listened, just took in all the sensations. I felt my arms wrap around her, I felt her soft body press up against my thin chest. I was having trouble controlling my breathing patterns. She kissed my neck. "I need you here, Angel…. Master…"

I gasped slightly, involuntarily, and stammered, "Christine, you're- you're married to the Vicomte, and as much as I'd-"

There were footsteps in the hall. Christine stood up abruptly, flattening her dress and tying back her hair.

It was Raoul. He came into the parlor just as Christine had gained composure. "Hello, my love. I'm home early." He kissed her on the cheek quickly and she blushed, not from embarrassment, but shame.

"Ah, Monsieur Delacroix, I'm glad to see you're all right. I contacted a doctor today while I was in town. He'll be stopping by later."

I shook my head. "No, that's quite unnecessary. I just hadn't eaten all day. It happens from time to time." This wasn't completely a lie. In fact, I was feeling faint as we spoke.

Raoul yawned. "I'm quite exhausted, but I'd like to start on designing the place tonight. Are you up to it, Monsieur?"

"Of course, of course." I gave the piano one last longing gaze. Raoul looked from one of us to the other. Christine looked as if she were in another world completely.

"Should we first talk over dinner then?"

Christine snapped out of it. "Oh, oh, yes… yes, I'll start cooking it right away." She hurried out of the room. Raoul watched her, frowning.

"She's really been a wreck these past weeks. I worry about her. It all started when that Opera Ghost fellow died."

I pretended to look confused by this. Raoul sighed. "It's a long story, it really is, but I'll say this much: the man had it coming to him. If you can even call that thing a man…

"Delacroix, he had the most repulsive face, it was almost laughable! Had he worked for a gypsy sideshow, he could have made millions. But the beast belonged in a cage- he was a murderer, and tried to kill me. The poor girl was brainwashed and idolized him. I know he's in Hell now where he belongs, but still I can't stand that he haunts her even now that he's dead."

He shook his head in grief and led me into the kitchen.

"Side show freaks don't get paid. They get whipped and caged." I whispered to myself, and then I followed the naïve fool into his kitchen.