"To see the world in a grain of sand,

and to see heaven in a wild flower,

hold infinity in the palm of your hands,

and eternity in an hour."

Chapter Five

Demon Whispers

"Why do you keep her here?"

"I love her!"

"She does not love you...who could?"

"She chose me!"

"Out of pity!"

"No...she chose me!"

"If you believed that were so would you not have already bound her to you?"

"I cannot do that."

"Why?"

"Because, I..."

"Am a demon."

"No, I..."

"Am a demon!"

"She is an angel...she would not-"

"Choose a demon!"

"I am a demon..."

These words seemed to echo in the quiet music room as Erik sat at his piano. Wind moaned and rain battered against the window as the storm raged on outside. It had to be a few hours after midnight but sleep eluded him. An angel lie sleeping in a room not far from where he was and Erik could not get himself out of his own mind. In his mind whispers told him the truth about himself. Why had Christine chose him? Had she thought she was saving the Vicomte from his death?

Yet why had she asked for marriage? Was that another act of pity? When she was with him did she imagine it was de Chagny? Was every moment with him another hour in a prison she could not escape from, a prison like the one he had found in the opera? Would she always regret her choice.

"Erik!"

Christine's scream caused him to stiffen in surprise. The scream sounded again and Erik nearly flew in his haste to get to her. The room was not far but seemed to take ages to get to and he burst through the door. The room was shrouded in darkness but with his amazing eyesight he found a small little lump shaking beneath the covers of her bed. Soft cries and whimpers wrung from the bed and Erik tried to get his pouding heart back under control.

"Christine?" he whispered, not moving from his place at the door. Her head slowly left the safe haven of the blankets so he could see her large eyes and tangled curls.

"E-Erik..." she whimpered. Lightening flashed outside, momentarily illuminating the room and causing Christine to give a soft cry. He approached the bed slowly, his heart beating so loud it seemed to drown out every other emotion.

"It is only a storm, mon ange," he whispered in what he hoped was a soothing voice.

"I know..." she whispered, ashamed of herself.

"It will end soon," he said. She nodded.

"Could-could you light a candle?" she whispered. Erik nodded and went to do as she asked.

"Thank you," she said softly when the light of the candle illuminated the room. He set the candle on the table beside her bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress, trying desperately not to touch her. Christine sat up and pushed her hair away from her face. Erik noticed she was trembling.She began fidgeting with her hands as an akward silence descended upon the room. Erik stared ahead of him, at a loss for words.

The first tentative touch of her hand on his own had his whole body as stiff as a board. Her fingertips played over the skin of his pale hand before she gently slipped hers into his, holding it ever so gently. He heard himself swallow painfully.

"I remember, when I was a small child, you would always sing me to sleep whenever a storm would shake the opera walls," she whispered almost reverently. He remained silent, his eyes staring down at their entwined hands as if he had never seen such a thing in his life.

"I would always know that when the first lightening struck, my Angel of Music would be there to soothe me back to sleep," she said. He was about to say something when she continued.

"I prayed and wished that you were real. That you could hold me when I was frightened. You were not real then, Erik...you are now," Christine said. To his complete and utter amazement she leaned forward and wrapped her slim arms around his neck, pressing her face into his warm shoulder. Erik was unable to move under the weight of her arms.

"I am frightened, Erik," she said softly, tears beginning to catch on her lashes. She pressed closer and shaking arms wrapped around her trembling little body.

"I would never let anything happen to you, ange, you must believe that," he whispered. Christine did not reply. It was quite a time later before her soft sobs stopped, but by that time Erik was completely comfortable with her in his arms, not wanting to ever let her go. Her hand was making small circles on his neck, just below the edge of the white porcelain. A soft knock on the door ended the small fantasy they had created for themselves. Erik growled a compliance to enter and a very frightened Anita entered the room. She seemed extremely surprised to see Christine in her master's arms.

"Forgive the interruption, Monsieur, I heard the Mademoiselle scream and came to make sure she was alright," Anita said, looking down at the floor.

"She is fine, you foolish woman!" Erik snapped impatiently.

"Erik, she does not need to be spoken to in such a way," Christine whispered, seeing the way Anita flinched.

"She should know her place," Erik replied angrily, wishing the woman gone.

"I am sorry, Sir, I did not mean to intrude," Anita said turning to leave.

"Anita! Please, wait!" Christine said. She slipped from Erik's arms, much to his dismay, and made her way over to the young woman. Christine took her trembling hands in her own and smiled at the other woman who looked so frightened she might drop in a faint.

"Thank you, for coming to see if I was alright, that was very kind of you," Christine whispered. Anita stared at her new mistress for several long moments. She saw great compassion and goodness in this young girl. Then she glanced at the master. His scowl and the white gleaming of his mask gave off an air of pure evil...what were the two doing together? Was he forcing Mademoiselle Daae to stay here with him? She had seen Christine leave the manor and came back in the masters arms, weeping. Had he caught her and forced her to come back to him. She did not like the idea at all.

"You are welcome, Mademoiselle, I will leave you to rest," Anita whispered. Christine smiled and nodded, allowing the girl to leave the room. She turned back to Erik and wrapped her arms around her waist, a frown upon her lips.

"You should not have talked to her like that," she scolded. Erik stared at Christine in utter amazement as she berated him about his attitude.

"She is a servant, I may speak to her as I wish," he replied.

"Would you like to be talked to that way?" she asked.

"No, of course not," he said.

"Then why do you talk to others in such a way?" she asked.

"It is who I am," was his only reply. Christine eyes turned to stare at the flame of the flickering candle. A faraway look came into her eyes as she spoke her next sentence.

"My father used to tell me to treat others the way I myself would wish to be treated," Christine said. He stood up.

"You were loved, Christine, it is simple to show compassion when you yourself know what that emotion is," he said. Christine did not reply, watching the emotionless expression that came over his eyes.

"When I am shown love perhaps I to may be able to show it to others," he growled, stalking past her and out of the room. Christine sighed and wiped a tear from her eyes.

"Oh, Erik...I am trying to show you love. Why can you not see it?" she whispered.

xXx

Candlelight illuminated Anita's face as her hand trembled as she slowly wrote on the parchment in front of her. She was doing the right thing, there was no reason for her to feel guilty about it. It would make everyone happy if she did this. Finishing the letter she quickly wrote a name on the front in sprawling letters. The man waiting at her door to deliever it took it without question. As she watched him walk away she prayed that this was the right thing to do.