Author's notes: Phew! Wish me luck, people... I might be singing Christine this Tuesday, if my vocal coach decides I'm ready for it – she said I'd be doing PotO soon, if I keep up. I'm singing With One Look from Sunset Boulevard, but I might get a new song to learn. And, less pleasant, I have major exams on Wednesday and Thursday... anyway, this chapter turned out phluffier than I thought it would, but who cares? I had to put it somewhere.

Oh, and the song When I Come To You belongs to Jason Kolman and JoAnna McCormick – they did an awesome job of singing it! Ignore the "chorus" bit… it's a metaphor in this phic, but in the song, it has that exact meaning. I didn't want to change the song at all, it's too wonderful! It's just a part of it, I might be using more later on. Those of you from PhantomFans. net know who I'm talking about! The song is sung to the melody of Angel of Music:

http/www.phantomfans. net/board/ index.php?showtopic14489&st0

Download it there! But beware, I put spaces into the link so that it would show here at all, so you have to delete those! After "fans." and after "board/"

Enrinye– you know which one it it, Z... anyway, it's answered here!

Mominator124 – no, no, no Raoul. It's not good for an aristocrat to sing. Too... well, it just isn't done. But I have an alternative ready! Here you go!

Nabira– here it is, here you have your answers!

X X X

Chapter XXV

X X X X

It was supposed to be the most glorious moment in the life of Raoul de Chagny. The moment he had been praying for ever since he had seen his childhood sweetheart again on the stage in Paris… only that she wasn't a child any more. She was a young woman now, and as he had been sure years ago, he was sure now that he did not wish to marry another woman.

On that impulse, he had invited her to come with him and Philippe to Persia. From the very beginning, he had known that he would pose the question one day, for he was completely ensnared by her beauty, her kindness, her voice… there was no more perfect angel in the world than her.

They had been extremely close years ago, childhood sweethearts as they were, but they weren't from the same social class, and fate had parted them soon after. Now, after this reunion, they had discovered that the friendship remained the same. Perhaps Raoul simply misunderstood Christine's friendship for more, perhaps he thought that them being friends from long ago was an ideal beginning for a romance… but this refusal…

It was simple, plain, and direct. She said it. A single no was enough to destroy the dream and shatter one possible future. Still, Raoul didn't want to listen. He heard… but he didn't want to listen.

Turning slowly, the Vicomte´s eyes once again saw Christine, and surprise rushed through him. She was as pale as snow, her normally warm eyes wide with fear, for some reason. Her hands clutched each other to stop the trembling. When she opened her mouth, no sound came out at first, but then, her voice was coolly calm, very different from her usual bright tones.

"My answer is no, Raoul."

The Vicomte stood in front of the doorway, his face now strangely blank. He didn't know what Christine was afraid of, or why she was refusing in the first place. A thousand words he knew he would never say hung between them and then, his confused emotions came out in one syllable.

"Why?"

Christine shut her eyes for a moment and seemed to swallow a lump in her throat. She could never explain why she was refusing… not fully. Insane as her refusal might seem, it was the only option she had. She could never marry Raoul. She loved him, she really did, as a brother, as a friend, as someone she could rely upon. But not as a man, not as a husband. Comfort… not love… that would be their doom.

"Raoul… please, imagine for a moment, that I cannot sing, that my voice sounds worse than the croak of the most repulsive toad… would you still love me?" she inquired, an apologetic expression in her eyes.

But Raoul couldn't imagine Christine's voice as anything less than crystal-clear, he could never think that her golden throat would emit a sound that sounded repulsive. And he could even less understand why he was asked this question. From his look of confusion, Christine gathered that he didn't understand.

"You don't understand, do you? Raoul… if I hadn't played the lead role that night in Paris… if I were an ordinary chorus girl, or if my part was silent… do you think you would have even noticed me?"

"Of course I would have!" the Vicomte said immediately, "I have known you for years, Christine – I would recognize your lovely face anywhere!"

Christine smiled mournfully. "Now do you understand? You speak of my face, my voice, as something natural. If I had neither, you wouldn't even see me – I would be part of the wall, someone you would never see. For I have seen you before that gala, Raoul." she admitted, "When I fled from the crowds after my performance as Elisa in Hannibal, I was dressed as a street urchin, and I passed your carriage near the Rue de Rivoli. You were standing there, talking with some bureaucrats. I passed you… you didn't even give me a second glance, and you looked me in the face for a moment."

The worst part was, Raoul seemed to remember a surprisingly pale person passing them, but he dismissed the sight as a starving boy who was hurrying home after a hard day's work.

"You remember the Little Lotte you used to play with at the house by the sea, Raoul… and she is gone." Christine finished, hoping dearly that she had told him enough and wouldn't need to reveal more.

"But… why did you accept my invitation to come here, then?" it seemed that he was playing his last card with this question.

"Because I love you, Raoul." Christine said, "I love you as my friend, my brother. Perhaps, once, we were closer than that, but childhood romances rarely last. We have both moved on, and you know it."

Silent for a moment, Raoul stood motionless as he absorbed this new information with difficulty. Eventually, he managed to regain his voice. "That place in your heart is already taken, isn't it?" he asked quietly, studying her face carefully.

Christine lowered her gaze, almost as if in shame, but it showed her reluctance to even answer that particular question. "Perhaps." she finally said laconically.

Gathering the remnants of his willpower, Raoul straightened up, hiding his sorrow to the best of his ability. "I hope this man is worthy of your affection, Christine." With those words, he turned away from her and moved for the door, opened it, and stepped outside.

"The Angel of Music is more than worthy of it." He heard her whisper before he closed the door.

X X X

Now that all permission was secured, Erik found yet another advantage of this upcoming performance – he was free to visit Christine in her rooms whenever occasion required it, and they wouldn't have to return to the dungeons for lessons, unless entirely necessary.

After finally completely dismissing the persistent questions Nadir kept posing, he was free to do as he wished, and his main priority was to inform Christine of the success of their little scheme and decide when they would begin preparing the performance. He had chosen a part for her already, which would suit her quite well, but he didn't know whether or not she had performed the opera before.

Knocking softly on her door, he entered after he heard no sound from the room that would prevent him from doing so, and he found Christine sitting in one of the chairs, a book in her hand. She seemed too lost in thought to notice the knocking, but now, blasted to reality from her dreamworld, she raised her head in surprise, a small gasp lost in her throat, but she relaxed almost at once when she saw who it was.

Despite the warm colors she was dressed in – green with gold embroidery – despite her slight smile, Erik noticed immediately that she seemed rather troubled or distraught by something. She was as pale as ever and perhaps a bit too jumpy. For the moment, he restrained himself from asking, allowing her the courtesy of informing him herself.

"Apologies for startling you, my dear." he said gently, "I´ve come to inform you that all went according to plan. We have permission to continue "rehearsing" and there is no time limit. I´ve also chosen you an opera and a part in it, but I need to know if you are familiar with it."

Christine marked her page in the book, closed it and put it on her vanity table, nodding. "What opera is it?"

"You gave me the idea. You wanted Don Giovanni… so I chose Don Giovanni."

Her slight frown vanishing when she remembered mentioning that earlier, Christine asked: "Ah, Mozart?" A nod was enough of a confirmation for her. "I do like that one very much." she smiled, "It's amusing, and the ending is fitting."

"It depends on your point of view." Erik noted quietly, but didn't bother explaining, his eyes still fixed on her face.

It was then that Christine caught the concern in the two golden orbs and the smile slid off her face for a moment. She was silent and then answered the unspoken question. "Raoul proposed to me."

Like a foreboding statue, Erik seemed to be carved of stone, his eyes devoid of warmth at the mention of the Vicomte de Chagny and a marriage proposal in the same sentence. "I see… am I to be congratulating the future Vicomtesse de Chagny?" he asked, though it seemed more like an angry hiss.

Christine immediately saw the warning signs and shook her head fervently. "Not at all, no. I refused. I have no wish to become la Vicomtesse de Chagny."

The ominous sight in front of her didn't morph into anything less foreboding, but surprise darted through Erik's eyes momentarily. Surprise… and more.

"Why would you refuse such a good offer, Christine?" he asked, almost in a whisper, "The boy is rich, young, handsome…" he spat the last word with distaste, "he can provide you a wonderful life with a title… you would never need to worry about anything than your dear husband."

"Why do you show only spite, Erik?" Christine whispered, "What must I do to make you realize what Raoul understood today – that he isn't who I want to marry!" she cut herself off then, with a quiet gasp, surprised that she would even dare say something like that out loud. It was far too… definite, concrete…

Looking down, she missed the glitter of hope and swirl of expectation that passed through Erik's eyes, making them seem like two hurricanes of molten gold. "And who do you want to marry?"

His only answer was silence.

"Christine…­ why do you tremble?"

When I come to you
Don't be frightened
Child I am harmless

I only wish to teach you,
guide you
unlock your vast potential

Christine looked up, blinking back tears, as Erik began to sing to the melody she herself had sung for him years ago to stop him from leaving forever, astonished that he still remembered it, amazed that anyone could sing with such gentleness.

Your Father once spoke
of an angel...
One in whom music resides

With uncanny grace, slowly, Erik approached her, until at last, he was kneeling next to her.

Christine can you feel your angel
standing by your side?

When I come to you
Do not panic
I am here to serve you ...

She ceased blinking back tears, for the first time, letting them fall freely, as she sang with him.

Safe under my wing / Safe under wing
close your eyes now / I close my eyes now)
open your mind your soul / Open my mind, my soul

Christine, you are still a child / I want to learn
but as I've watched you mature / My angel, my friend
the thought of you buried in chorus
is one I abhor / I can give you more

Christine's throat was as choked as it had never been. She couldn't continue, but a teary smile appeared on her face as Erik knelt in front of her, singing with more force, as if to convince her that it was all true.

I am your angel
I shall guide you!
Bring you to your glory!

Your voice is so precious
Child when you sing
All angels weep softly!

Openly crying now, Christine almost launched herself at him from the chair she was sitting on, resulting in a tight embrace a few seconds later. It was almost impossible to tell whose hands were whose; they were clinging to each other as if their lives depended on it. And even Erik, who had not cried for years, felt warm tears slide down his face behind his mask.

"I love you, Erik." Christine breathed, her voice slightly choked and muffed, but still audible. "I have never loved anyone but you, my Angel."

The possessive embrace tightened. "Christine… God shall curse me for stealing his fairest angel… and I shan´t regret it… I love you and adore you and won't ever, ever, leave you."