As you, my dear friends, may have heard, I am delighted to announce the correction to several rumours you may have heard. These, masquerading as truths from my mouth, have been terribly upsetting for my husband, le Counte de Changey, and myself. Our two children are perfectly healthy, although I do thank you for your concern. We are also –

Christine paused in her composition. To write "We are also perfectly healthy", would be a lie, now, wouldn't it? She couldn't bring her self to do it. Not after last night.

Sighed, she laid down her quill with a delicate hand. Apart from a slight paleness to her porcelain cheeks, she was well as ever. She had always been pale, but this did not change her being fair of mind or body.

She stood and glanced in the large mirror positioned next to her multiple wardrobes. A young woman – nearly twenty five – glanced back at her with wide eyes. They were an endless hazel colour, and it was obvious to anyone who looked into them how deep the truth ran within them. Her flowing curls, still their glorious golden sea that surrounded her frame with amazing effect, were spilling down her back, revealing the slimness of her body.

Sighing again, she turned away. She had to be ready soon.

Ten minutes later, as the woman was just doing up the clasp on her necklace to set off the deep red dress she was wearing, there was a knock on her door.

"Come in," Christine called, knowing it would be one of the servants, coming to tell her he was here.

As expected, Magallie appeared as the door opened. Slipping into a slight courtesy, she smiled at her master. They were good friends rather than master and servant.

"You have a visitor, Madame."

"Very good, Magallie. Please show him up here."

The young maid blinked up at her, looking rather surprised.

"Up here, Madame? To your chambers?"

"Oui, Magallie. I wish for him to be shown up here."

The girl paused a second before slipping into a courtesy again.

"Of course, Madame."

As the door clicked shut, Christine bent and picked up a large velvet drape. With an almighty swing, she placed it over the mirror, and adjusted it so that none of the glass was showing at all. She was working quickly, knowing he would be here any second. Glancing at the clock, she realised he was, as ever, completely on time, to the very second. He had said he would be in her room by eleven o'clock, and it was now ten seconds to that time. Coming up the corridor were the familiar foot steps of Magallie, and what she guessed were his. Magallie, of course, would have no idea who she was leading to her Madame's room.

It seemed like just yesterday she had been at the Opera Populaire, a young chorus girl, and then, for a short while, the resident "star". Eighteen years old, and brimming with talent, she had taken the difficult dance moves and higher notes in her stride, thinking them the greatest challenge she would ever meet. And, of course, her Angel of Music would always there to help her through anything. She knew she would always have a friend in him.

Then one night, her Angel had led an excited and nervous Christine down to his lair. It was in these amazingly crafted rooms she learnt of him. Learnt of this deformed genius.

After ripping off his mask, she had fled from him, avoiding him, until one night when her childhood sweetheart swept her up and told her he loved her, after the murder by her Angel of one of the stage hands. She had returned his love, and he proposed, with her, of course, accepting.

But a storm was building she could feel it. Something was going to happen, and, after two more attempts to lure Christine away, Raoul, the Vicounte, decided something had to happen.

On the night of the performance of the Phantom's opera, police were stationed to shoot him. Christine had ripped off his mask again, this time on the stage. They had descended to her lair, were the Angel had then threatened to kill Raoul after his arrival to rescues Christine, if she did not stay with him forever.

In desperation, not just for herself, but for her fallen Angel, she kissed him, twice. Shocked and amazed, the Angel let her and her lover go, with tears falling in great rivers down his deformed face.

But Christine had returned a few minutes later, to give him back the ring he had once stolen from her. He told her, through song, that he loved her. And she knew that no matter where she went, she could never forget him. Deep down inside, she knew that in so many ways, she loved him too, no matter what he did.

And now she was about to receive him for the first time in nearly seven years.

Last night she had received a letter. Raoul was out of town, so the house was almost deserted, with the children both in bed. The servants kept mainly to the quarters, although Christine would tell them there was no need. She did this mainly for her own company. She knew they should stay to their quarters through ranks, but she did hate being alone.

It had been raining, and a servant girl had come running to her mistress with the letter clutched in her white hand. She had looked terrified, and Christine insisted she went to the kitchen to have a cup of hot tea with Brandy in to calm her.

When the girl had returned to her duties, Christine also returned to hers. Sitting on her dressing stool in her main chamber, she read the lettering, before turning it over to view the seal. Her stomach flipped. She recognized this.

Hands shaking, she pulled out the sheet of parchment within. Yet more fear gripped her as she realized the hand that had written this was no steady. He couldn't be…?

"My dear Christine,

We have not spoken for many years, and I can, without doubt, understand your distance from me. But now, I contact you. I need to speak to you Christine. It is very important. I would not plague you with my presence if it was not. I will be in your chambers by eleven o'clock tomorrow morning. I will not be there for long.

I remain, Madame, your faithful servant

O.G"

Now the letter sat on her dressing table, as she, once again, sat on the stool, awaiting his arrival. Christine took several deep breathes, trying to calm her frayed nerves. Maybe this hadn't been the best of ideas. She could have run, she could run now-

The knocking came just as suddenly as her thoughts.

Struggling to find her breath, she organized her skirts once more, before almost gasping, "Come in!"

The door opened and closed and in the shadow she could see him. Just.

"Good morning, Madame." His voice was as enchanting as ever, but weak.

"Good morning, Monsieur." She rose now and started to walk. To her surprise, he moved to her. His face was half covered with its ever present mask, but it was not this that surprised her. The other side of his face was drawn and gaunt.

"Oh my," She whispered, then, before either of them could object, she threw herself at him and pulled him into a tight embrace.

He stood rigid for a few seconds, before relaxing slightly, and bringing a shaking arm up to curve around the small of her back. His other hand reached up and stroked her mass of curls, remembering oh to well how she used to love it when the other girls had stroked her hair. It had always calmed her down.

"Hello, Christine." He whispered, his head balanced on hers.

"I've missed you, Angel." She whispered back, and held him tighter.

They stood, holding each other for what could have been hours or minutes. Christine had closed her eyes, resting her sublime head under the Phantoms own. He had also closed his eyes, and a smile was evident on his weakened face.

Slowly, he pulled back from her to look her in the eye. She blushed slightly under such good natured scrutiny. The smile on his face reached even his eyes, and they sparkled.

"Please," She murmured, looking away from his face, "do sit down. You do not look as well as I remember…"

He gave a short laugh, and her heart seemed to lighten a hundred fold. But still he sat, and she, after hesitating, took her place on her stool again. He looked at her from the much plumped arm chair he had positioned himself on.

"You, on the other hand, my Angel, look better than I can recall."

Yet again a flush reached her cheeks and she replied with a light, "Merci."

Silence filled the room for a moment, but it was not uncomfortable. Both members looked away from the other, yet revealing in their company. Even after so many years, and after so many terrible events, they both, after all, loved each other. In one way or another, they had desperately missed each other. Both, however, were too democratic and disciplined to say anything of the sort.

Finally, Christine looked up.

"What has brought you here, my friend?"

The man gave a half smile, and brought his head back up to meet her eyes.

"Before we begin, Christine, I must insist on something."

"Oui, Monsieur?"

"My name is Erik."