I had completely restored my underground home to its elegance. The pipe organ was fixed; the coffin was shrouded once more in the velvet drapes. It was colder down there in the winter than I remembered, and for the past few weeks I had shivered and ached, gathering blankets from above ground to keep warm.

I had purposely been avoiding Christine. I had left my friends and my home to freeze to death in this underground tomb, rather than see her. I was shivering today, as I sat at a desk with a quill, paying some bills that were necessary in order to import some new costumes for the Opera's newest production. Normally I would have Nadir take care of such things; he was the manager of the technical, and I the decider of mostly artistic decisions. I'd also given in and offered to give lessons to young singers, so long as they didn't ask too many questions. As far as conducting, as Nadir advocated for constantly, it was out of the question.

Madame Giry was teaching ballet again, and Nadir had an office above ground. However, I hadn't seen either of them in weeks, since I had been avoiding Christine. And now, when I was freezing, I resented the girl more than ever.

I gave up on trying to fill out the paperwork. I hated such things, I would have to go find Nadir and give it to him. Instead, I sat down at the organ and decided to work on something new I had been writing.

I didn't want Don Juan Triumphant to be performed again, at least not anytime soon. I had decided to work on a new opera though, a slightly less intense one, though only slightly. This one was about a fallen angel, and a young girl. Mostly about the girl.

I sighed. There was really nothing else I felt compelled to write. The music flowed so beautifully when I thought of her, almost writing itself. Christine would forever be my muse, whether I avoided her or not.

I played for several hours, completely wrapped up in the sound. I was about to stop and write down what I had come up with, when I heard a small voice from over my shoulder.

"Erik…"

I turned around slowly and met Christine's eyes, sighing angrily.

"How did you get here? The gondola was on this side."

She bowed her head. "Madame Giry helped me."

Curse women, all of them, I thought, setting down my quill. "Well, what is it Christine? Come to disillusion me into believing you love me, and then rip it away again? I think a few more times would do the trick really, get your point across."

She didn't speak.

"Or perhaps," I said, getting to my feet, "You are here out of sheer desperation, and think that poor old Erik will take you in, now that no one else will. Perhaps you've boiled down to your last choice, and you've decided that being with a half-man is better than living with no man at all. Or perhaps, my dear, you simply derive pleasure from hurting me, and wish to give me false hope again."

She still didn't speak.

"For Christ's sake, child, it must be important, if you came all the way down here-"

"Don't call me a child, and don't mock me!"

Her shrill scream echoed throughout the cellars, making me cringe. My sarcasm collapsed, and I apologized quietly, humbly.

She sat down on the stone steps and buried her face in her hands.

"I know I've been awful, Erik, and if you don't want to see me, I'll leave. But I can't stand to hear you mock me this way, I only feel worse."

I sighed, and said in a forced calm, "Why are you here?"

She didn't look up, and her voice was muffled by her hands.

"Speak up, dear, I can't ever hear you."

"I'm pregnant!"

She began to sob, her small shoulders shaking furiously. I felt my whole body go cold. I was forced to picture images I didn't wish to.

"How beautiful!" I said, ripping down the satin curtains, kicking a golden statue of a bird, "How wonderful this situation is! Bravo, Chrisitne, you have managed oncea gain to work yourself into an impossible situation."

She sobbed harder and backed away from me, huddled in the corner, but I couldn't stop yelling like a lunatic.

"Why did you need me then Christine, if the Vicompte has been giving you what you need? Why would you want me when you've got him and his flawless body, his flawless youthful beauty, his flawless, oh so noble personality! Why would you drive him away?"

"Its just as mush your fault! Why did you come back? Why couldn't you just let me believe you were dead."

I stared at her coldly. "Do you wish I were dead, Christine? Because I could arrange that."

"No, no, Erik, I don't mean that. God, I don't know what I mean." She was rubbing her eyes franticly, as if hoping to clear away something that was blocking her ability to see the world clearly.

"All I know is that Raoul is gone, and his child is growing inside of me."

I broke down crying without warning, uncontrollably. She looked up at me suddenly, shocked and helpless. "Erik…what..?"

I stumbled into my bedroom, falling onto the bed, covering my head with the pillow. "No more," my brain begged, "No more of this…"

She pulled away the pillow. "Erik, why are you crying?"

I gasped through tears, wishing I could make myself stop.

"Christine…Christine…" I spoke choppily, like I was losing my mind, "Christine, I wanted to be the father of your child…I wanted to be….I wanted that."

I cried and cried, and couldn't fight her as she got into the bed next to me, and wrapped her arms around me. I laid my head against her breast, barely aware of myself, and we both laid like that for the longest time. She kissed my hair. "I don't know whats going to happen, but over these past moths I have come to realize that, more than any man in the world, Raoul included, I would want you to be the father of my child. I trust you more than anyone to take care of me, whether I deserve it or not. Please say you will, Erik…please, I'll try so hard not to hurt you this time. Let me stay with you, even if its just as a friend. I can't do this alone."

I couldn't think properly. I was scared. But I loved her…it was almost a mystery to me why it felt so strong, why it consumed me the way it did, blinding me to everything I had told myself earlier. I nodded, and cried harder, pulling her to me. "I love you Christine…I love you so, so much…I don't mean the sarcastic things I say, I just…yes, yes, you can stay with me. You and your child."

Our foreheads touched, and I felt heaven on earth once more. She closed her eyes and smiled, looking as if a great burden had been lifted from her. "I don't deserve you, Erik. I hope you know that. I'm just a shallow little chorus girl, and you…you are legendary. I'll hurt you again. I hurt everyone I love."

I touched her hand. "Let's go to sleep, Christine."

Despite everything, it was simple when it was just us. If we could have remained in that tomb, pure, untouched, I am convinced that it never would have ended, and that our love would remain, unchallenged and beautifully tragic. In the dark, we were just like everyone else, a bit lost, a bit scarred, but a man and a woman, none the less, finding comfort in one another. The history could be stored back in our heads, and our fears for tomorrow put on hold. There was an infinite amount of comfort just in the warm presence of one another, and in the realization that we both understood something magnificent, that we both shared this untouched, dark world, even if only for one night, and laid our minds to rest in a dimension of music and love that other spirits would never reach. Despite our suffering, our short lived pleasures were so much more than that of the common man and woman. We both knew that ironically, we had been blessed. . No one could take that understanding we shared away from us.

Outside, millions of things were happening. Raoul was loading his gun, while Madame Giry worried and Nadir stared at walls in his secret loneliness. An old man died in the streets, and an aristocrat's wife turned away from him in a cold bed. But Christine and I were not a part of this world. The warm darkness surrounded us like a blanket, and we feel asleep in each others arms and thoughts.