Erik was about to call out to Christine when suddenly someone else did. He stared, stupefied, as this person, this boy approached her. The nerve of him!

He waited impatiently behind a wall tapestry, silently cursing this oaf who was interrupting them, but his heart softened as he heard Christine explaining that she had been visited by the angel of music and had to stay because of him.

But then something terrible happened - the boy pulled away her gold thread! He tossed it to the ground like it was nothing, like Erik was nothing, like the bond Erik had with her was nothing! And then - then he stuffed her into his pocket, cruelly ignoring her pitiful pleas.

Erik darted out from his hiding place, panicking. He had to stop this boy from stealing Christine away, but how?

It was then that he noticed Christine tottering at the edge of the pocket. He froze, hiding himself behind a pedestal that held a vase, holding his breath. It was too far of a jump for her! She would get hurt!

She landed on the ground, a flash of pain going through her hand. She was about to squeak in pain when suddenly the terrible excitement of the past several hours became too overwhelming, and she fainted clean away.

Erik staggered out to crouch down by her side. His poor love! Had she died? He put his hands on his mask and wailed.

But no! She was still breathing! She was alive after all! He had never felt such relief. But to do now? He couldn't just leave her here - she might be hurt, for one, and need medical attention. Anyone was liable to come along and just step on her if she stayed here. And besides - there was the rat catcher to consider. If he came across Christine...

Erik couldn't let that happen. He bent down and scooped her sleeping form into his arms, carefully standing on his hind legs as he carried her away to a dark corner that led to his domain.

Meanwhile, Raoul was looking for his brother in the crowd of people leaving the theater.

"Raoul!" his brother spotted him first. "There you are! Where'd you go?"

"Guess who I saw!" Raoul beamed.

"Who?" Philippe smiled wryly, thinking of a number of young ladies who worked at the opera house.

"Christine!"

Philippe's face fell, then he pretended it hadn't.

"Oh?"

He'd thought Raoul's preoccupation with his mouse was finally over when the creature had gone missing (what did Raoul expect, toting it around like that everywhere he went?).

"Look, she was just fine! She was wandering the halls - I bet she was looking for me!" his hand dove into his pocket, groping to find her, only for his grin to fade as he realized his pocket was in fact empty.

"Oh-oh..." he stuttered, his expression growing concerned. "She's gone- Philippe, she's gone again!"

Philippe sighed and placed an arm around Raoul's shoulders.

"Don't worry, little brother. The world is full of mice - we'll go down to the pet store and buy you another one. We'll buy you as many mice as you want."

Raoul rubbed at his watering eyes.

"But there's only one Christine..." he looked back longingly at the hallway he had just come from.

The brothers went home, Philippe chatting eagerly about the show they had just seen, and Raoul nodding and agreeing occasionally, his mind still leaning towards Christine, hoping that wherever she was, she was okay.

Christine slowly blinked awake. The first thing she became aware of was a dark figure standing just a little away from her, and she began to panic.

"Do not be frightened, Christine," her angel's voice said. "There is nothing to fear. You are safe now."

His voice soothed her, but she was still unnerved. She took a closer look at the figure.

At first Christine couldn't tell what, exactly, she was looking at - the figure was nearly three times her size, and at first she thought perhaps it was a doll of a human. But the shape was all wrong, all hunched over, and the porcelain head sat at a strange angle, the arms too short and bending oddly in their little sleeves. It was the long, thick tail trailing from behind it that gave away what she was looking at.

It was a rat.

But- but where was her angel? She looked around for him.

The rat leaned in a little closer, tilting that awful head just a little more to the side.

"Do you feel all right?" he asked solicitously.

Her eyes snapped back to the figure.

"Oh," she took in a tremulous breath. "It's you."

And she began to cry. She put her paws to her face, tears running from her tightly closed eyes.

The angel was no angel after all - he was merely a rat.

"I am sorry, Christine," he cried, despairing. "I am sorry I am not an angel... I am only Erik."

She sniffled and wiped away her tears. She couldn't believe how foolish she had been! All that time, taking lessons from a rat and not an angel! She had always been a good girl and avoided rats whenever she could, knowing that they could be dangerous. But now - she had abandoned her dear, precious Raoul and she was here all alone with a rat, no one else knowing where she was or how to find her again - she didn't even know where she was.

"Am I to be your prisoner, then?" she tried to muster as much fierceness as she could while still crying.

"My prisoner? Oh, Christine, no!" Erik wrung his hands in their little white gloves. "You are Erik's guest, my dear!"

"I don't want to be Erik's guest! I want to go home! I want to go home to Raoul!" she demanded, trying to hide the tremble in her voice.

Erik grew agitated.

"Erik will take Christine back, he promises," he said in a pleading tone. "But not just yet - not yet."

"Right now! Right now! I shall hate you forever if you don't!"

He hung his doll's head in shame.

"May I play a song for you first?" he asked softly.

"Get on with it then, so you can take me back!"

It was then that Christine took in her surroundings. They were on a large table with a dollhouse on it, and next to the table was an upright piano. He leapt deftly over to the piano and, by stepping quickly and nimbly on and across the keys, began to play the most beautiful song.

The tension began to leave her little frame. She noticed, now, a soft bandage had been wrapped around her paw, the one that had gotten hurt when she had jumped. Had Erik tended to it? It felt better already. She watched him, enraptured, as he played.

By the time he had finished his song (one of his very own compositions), she had forgotten all about her demand to be immediately taken back to Raoul.

"Are you hungry, my dear? Would you like something to eat?" he asked as he jumped back to the tabletop.

She nodded as though in a daze, and he led her into the dollhouse. She wondered, for a moment, why there was a dollhouse in the opera house, not knowing that it was used as a prop in a previous show many seasons ago, and had been stored away here ever since.

"This is my home," Erik explained. "And it would delight me if you thought of it as your home as well."

She looked around at the fancy doll furniture. Raoul had an old dollhouse that had belonged to his sister, and he often let Christine explore it. Erik's house wasn't as fancy as Raoul's, but it was still quite nice.

"You even have a room of your own here," he tittered nervously.

"I do?" she asked, surprised.

"Of course you do! It is right over here," he ushered her to a room with tiny floral wallpaper. "You will find some dresses in the wardrobe, you shall get dressed and then we shall have dinner."

She squirmed, a little nervous.

"I don't wear dresses," she said hesitantly. "I'm a mouse."

"These will fit you, my dear, I'm quite certain," he went on though he didn't hear her.

She eyed him. For that matter, why did he wear clothes?

But he turned on his heel and left the room, and she sighed as she went to the wardrobe. It appeared she had no choice. Perhaps if she humored him, he'd let her go quicker...

There were a number of small dresses inside the doll's wardrobe, but it was the little purple dress that she liked best and she awkwardly put it on herself. It seemed to have been altered to fit her, true to his word. It was short enough, also, that she could still walk on all fours. Still, she felt ridiculous in the thing.

"Erik?" she called out. "I'm dressed now. Where did you go? I don't know my way around your house..."

"Our house, Christine," he said warmly, suddenly appearing at her side.

She flinched, and he cringed away.

"R-right this way..." he said, cursing himself for frightening her.

He ushered her into a little dining room, where he motioned for her to sit at the table. She sat awkwardly upon the chair, not certain what to do next.

"Stay right there, don't go anywhere," he waved his hands at her as he went into the kitchen.

She was left alone for a moment, then returned with a small silver platter upon which a single chicken wing rested. It was the same size as her, and the sight of it almost overwhelmed her, but it did smell appetizing.

"And this is for you as well!"

He produced a dark red rose from just around the corner and placed it next to her. It was bigger than her, and certainly was overwhelming. It overwhelmed the very room, it seemed.

"Oh!" she said. "It's, ah... oh."

He settled himself across from her at the table, crossing his paws and resting the doll head on them as he stared at her with great interest - or at least what appeared to be great interest. She couldn't see his eyes though the holes where the doll's eyes used to be, except for an occasional glow when he turned just right. The painted face was vacant and ominous, with black empty eye sockets and long silk hair. She didn't like being looked at by him.

"Er, are you going to have some too?"

Surely this giant feast was to share, after all.

"No, no, my dear!" he chuckled. "It is all for you!"

She fidgeted. She had hoped he'd take the doll head off and she could finally see him.

She ate her chicken, feeling self conscious, aware of every last little movement of hers as Erik stared and stared. She shifted this way and that, uncomfortable in the dress. Finally she reached a hand to her back and scratched at the little buttons there.

"Are you okay?" Erik asked, nervous.

"The seams itch me," she said, giving him a reproachful look. "I've never worn a dress before."

"Ah, I am sorry, my dear," and he really did sound sorry. "But you will get used to it!"

"What if I don't want to get used to it?" she wrinkled her nose. "Mice don't typically wear clothes... and neither do rats... It's all very different from I'm used to."

"You and Erik are the same, my dear. We are... different, as you say. Not like the others," he tugged at his sleeves, looking down almost shyly. "I know you are a little frightened right now, but that is okay. You will see, eventually! Erik means no harm, and fear can turn to love, you know. And eventually, after you stay with Erik for a little while and then he takes you back upstairs... perhaps... perhaps you will come to visit your poor Erik, every so often?"

He looked up, the light catching in his terrible eyes underneath of his strange mask, his voice full of pitiful hope.

"Erik has so very few visitors, and he loves Christine, did you know that? But he shan't bring it up if she doesn't wish it!" he rushed to add. "We shall get along splendidly, though, and devote our time to music. Erik and Christine are just alike, they both love music. They don't need anyone else but each other!"

She looked down at her plate, frowning. They had gotten along quite well when he was an angel, and she supposed that might continue even still, but she didn't like how she felt about the whole situation. He said he loved her, yet he had kidnapped her, had he not?

"Is that why you brought me here? Because you love me? Have you made me a prisoner because of love?"

"I am taking you back eventually, Christine, you are no prisoner. I said that already. You must pay better attention, silly child!" he chuckled then sighed deeply. "I brought you here because I realized it was not safe for you out there, not right now. That man almost kidnapped you, I saw it!"

She glared across at him.

"That was Raoul! He would never harm me!"

"And you were just in the middle of the hallway, where anyone could have stepped on you!" he continued, outwardly ignoring her but inwardly making note of the name of his apparent rival. "The rat catcher could have come across you, or Carlotta might have found you and finished what she tried to do you on stage! So I brought you here to keep you in safety for just a little while. Tell me, how is your poor hand?"

She stretched out her bandaged paw.

"It feels better," she said truthfully. "Did you wrap it?"

"Of course! Erik must watch out for his Christine, and make certain of her comfort, after all."

"Thank you..."

Perhaps he did care for her, in a rather unorthodox way.

She looked up suddenly.

"If I am to stay a while, won't please take off your, er, mask?"

"No, never," he said calmly.

Her little brow furrowed.

"Not ever? Why not?"

"Do not ask questions!" he snapped, bringing his tiny gloved fists down on the table and frightening her.

Just as suddenly as he had snapped at her, his demeanor turned sweet again.

"How is Christine enjoying her dinner?"

"Just fine," she picked at it. In truth, she was no longer hungry, and she wished to remove the awful dress and just go home to Raoul. Or, if she was to stay with her former angel, she wished he would introduce himself normally, let her see his face, and perhaps they could talk about music. Neither option seemed feasible.

In truth she would have loved to get to know her angel better! Why couldn't he just behave normally? Then they could have a real conversation.

"Have you lived here very long?" she asked politely.

"Yes, quite long," he nodded, then fell silent again.

"Will I sing again, do you think? On stage?" she tried at last, growing weary of the silence - music always got him talking in the past.

"Of course you will! It wasn't your fault Carlotta was so hateful... We will find a way to resolve the problem of her, my dear, don't you worry yourself about it in the least but yes! Lovely Christine shall sing on stage again, and it will be even more glorious than it was tonight!"

She wrapped a thin ribbon that hung off the sleeve of her dress around her paw, fiddling with it shyly.

"You thought I did gloriously?"

"You did," he said sweetly. "You were magnificent! The best singer!"

Her face felt warm, and she smiled. He might only be a rat and not an angel, but she found his compliments made her tiny heart flutter all the same.

"Thank you, Erik," she looked up and smiled at him.

His breath stuttered. She had said his name so kindly, so lovingly! She had looked right at him! He could barely stand it, the joy was too great.

She asked him if they could still continue her lessons, which he readily agreed to, and they spoke some time longer on the subject of music and singing. For a while she felt completely at ease with him, as though there situation was the most natural thing on the world.

"Erik," she said presently, preparing to offer her heart up to him. "I- I don't mind that you're a- well, a rat. You don't have to hide from me... I wish you hadn't hid from the very beginning. I know mice and rats don't get along often, but I think we could be friends, don't you? We could be friends even still. Please, don't hide from me! I don't mind the truth!"

Erik was very still and very quiet.

"No, no," he finally said, his tone deadly serious. "Christine you must never ask that of me. You don't understand at all. Come, let's not speak of it again."

He changed the subject suddenly, and she felt a little resentful.

He was being silly! She knew rats weren't the most handsome thing to look at, with their long snouts and big teeth. But they weren't that bad! He didn't need to hide like this! And besides - she wanted to know what her angel looked like! She had put the dress on for him, hadn't she? It was only fair that he remove his mask for her.

She nodded along to his conversation, asking questions now and then to keep him talking, lulling him into a sense of security. She got up off her chair and asked about the little odds and ends that decorated the house, stopping to sniff at the enormous rose. She carefully made her way to stand next to him, all without him suspecting anything, and then finally ended up behind him. He kept telling her the history of the item she had inquired about, trying to twist in his chair to face her but not quite making it.

It was then that she struck.

She had expected, of course, that he was merely shy, not wanting her to see that he was a rat, embarrassed to admit what he actually was. She had thought that she'd pull the doll's head off of his head and then she'd smile at him and he'd realize how silly he was being over it all, that they'd laugh about it and talk a little longer and he'd take her back to Raoul later and then she'd come visit her newfound friend when she came to the opera in the future.

It was with that in mind that she slyly snuck up to him as he twisted in his chair, and, standing on the very tips of her hind paw toes, yanked the doll head away - they would laugh! - they would smile! - they would-

She screamed before she could stop herself.

He was indeed a rat, but not one like she'd ever seen before. He had no fur on his face except for a few sparse black whiskers, and his skin wrinkled horribly as his expressions changed, bunching and crinkling this way and that. His eyes were not shiny black like other rats she'd seen, but an awful dark blood red.

She was horrified, and for a moment she felt that time had stopped as she stared at him - how could such a creature exist?

His own eyes widened in horror and he hissed through his teeth at her.

"Damn you!" he banged his fists on the table. "Damn you and your insatiable curiosity!"

He stood up and knocked his chair over with a sickening bang. She darted underneath of the table for safety, trembling with fear, flinching at the loud noises he was causing as he began to wipe his hands across the little shelves on the wall, causing all the brick-a-brack there to fall to floor and clatter.

"You little lying Delilah! You prying Pandora!"

She didn't even know what some of those words meant, but she didn't like being called them all the same. This wasn't the kind angel she had thought she'd known!

Slowly his anger began to dissolve into tears. He fell to his knees, weeping.

"You would have come back, if you hadn't known! You would have stayed with poor Erik if you'd never seen his accursed ugliness! Oh, you've cursed us both! All his life, everyone runs away from Erik when they see his face! Erik has ruined everything yet again!"

Christine stopped trembling. Could it be...? That he wasn't mad at her, not very much, but... he was mad at himself? She snuck her fer face out from under the table, looking at him with pity. Did he not understand that his face had only startled her for a moment? Did he not realize it was his anger that actually frightened her? His back was to her, and he didn't see how her expression had softened. His face was rather awful, but she could get used to it - it had only been so very unexpected! She would still come back! But only if he promised not to frighten her with his anger ever again. She didn't mind his face, not really... She was about to tell him so when suddenly he rounded on her and pointed an accusing finger.

"Now that Christine has seen him, she can never be free! Erik will keep her here forever! She will never leave, ever!"

Now Christine was mad. How dare he!

"What do you mean by that, Erik?" she demanded.

"You are never leaving this house again! I won't allow it!"

"Allow? Why, I never!" she bit the dress off of herself, needing it off so that she would be able to run faster. "You're not in of control of me! I'm mistress of my own actions, thank you very much! I go where I want when I want!"

She threw the dress at him and ran in the other direction as fast as she could. He stared, shocked, as she ran out of the room, then he began to chase her.

"Christine! Get back here this instant!" he bellowed, but she had already made it to the front door and out of the house.

"Christine! I mean it! Stop!"

She shimmied down the leg of the table, onto the floor, and raced for the door at the end of the room, intent on getting away.

Erik's anger wavered and was replaced by a cold wave of fear. If she left this room- she didn't know where the rat catcher's traps lay- it was terribly unsafe out there- she would be in danger! And still she ran from him! His fault, his fault!

"Christine, wait!" he cried desperately. "Don't go out there-!"

But Christine only thought he was still trying to trap her in the dollhouse, so she slipped out under the door and escaped into the hallway.