Disclaimer: Still not mine...

A/N: So now they meet. Exciting, no? Erik finally gets to talk! ( All Erik fans sigh and fall over) Enjoy!

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I awoke with a large headache and a foggy memory of recent events in a coffin-like bed. Raising myself up on my elbows, I looked around. He was sitting in a red armchair, one leg crossed over the other, felt fedora covering his face in shadow. Then I remembered. The mask! I sat up all the way and hung my legs over the side of the coffin. He looked up at me, those yellow eyes locking with mine. " Hello, Mademoiselle. I hope my temper did not cause you harm." His mask moved, so I assumed he was smiling coyly behind it. I felt my neck. It didn't seem broken, and my perspective of the world wasn't on a tilt, so I supposed I was ok.

" No, Monsieur, I'm quite fine." He eyed me with a tinge of anger. " Why do you stare at me?" His voice switched from calm and playful to angry and cold. I was gawking at him, unbeknownst to me. " F-forgive me" I stammered, trying not to evoke his anger once again. Standing up abruptly, he walked toward me with the grace of a cat, but the malice of Death.

" You are Miss Christine Daae, are you not?" He stated, rather than asked. I nodded stupidly, feeling like a child being scolded for something she didn't do. " I suggest you watch you eyes, Miss Daae, before I stick them in a jar and they watch you!' Chuckling coldly, he took off his hat and tossed it on the bed. " Um..." I began, trying to piece together a logical question."Yes?" He asked, entertaining my request for answers. " Are-Are you the opera Ghost that everyone talks about, or am I just a stupid child chasing myths?"

He looked at me thoughtfully, running his hand across a dusty volume. " Yes, child, I am." I sighed with relief, and looked puzzled. " I'm relieved, I have wanted to meet you for quite a time now" I explained. " Why?" He questioned me simply. I gulped. Should I tell him? Would it make him angry, or just confused?

" I wanted to meet you. Understand you. Learn about you. Was that wrong of me?" He walked over to me, eyes wide and full of unmasked wonder. " Child, what makes you want these things?" I made an unsure gesture. He glanced at the doorway, the back at my face. He seemed to be fighting a internal battle. He left the room, gesturing for me to follow.

When I had resolved to peruse him, he was at the organ, running his fingers across the keys. I cautiously made my way down the stairs, all the while watching him prepare to play. Letting the first cord ring throughout the large space, he spoke

" You wish to know me, Christine? I am... an angel, a monster, and a ghost... And angel of music... a ghost of this opera, and a monster of ..." He stopped, all the while letting his fingers take a mind of their own and continue the sweet melody. I moved toward him now, seeking to comfort this poor soul. " Monsieur?" I whimpered.He waved his hand. After a moment of silence he turned to me.

" My dear, can you sing?"

I was shocked.

" Sing? I suppose so..."

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Flame and review. For thoses of you who always past your opinion,I am grateful to you. You're the reason I keep writing. Your opinions help me alot.

Eyes constantly glued to the computer screen,

Bella DeMuerte