Thank you for the reviews! You post something and you don't even know if anyone will read it (being a newbie on here) let alone enjoy it. Thank you PhantomFan01 and cmol8806. I'm honored that your are even reading this!

Here is chapter 2! I really enjoyed writing this one!

Phantom belongs to Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Weber


The Phantom was wracked with sobs, sitting exactly where Christine had left him. He was still holding the ring she had returned to him, turning it over and over in his fingers.

Why did she return it?

She was being polite.

She was returning what wasn't hers.

But it wasn't yours either?

She was rejecting your offer, of course. Why else would she return it?

Maybe...

No. No maybe. She left. She left you. She didn't want the ring.

She didn't have to come back at all.

She came back to end it. It's over. Now get up, you have to leave.

Thoughts raced through his mind as he tried to make sense of what had happened; tried looking at it from different angles so as to find one that suited him but try as his brilliant mind might, he could not. He had lost. He had lost her. He had done the right thing. Better that he is suffering than her on his account.

Part of him no longer cared what became of him; nothing mattered, but part of him still held some childish fear at the consequences of staying where he was. He was distraught and out of his mind with grief but eventually fear got the better of him.

Standing up, he slipped the ring into his pocket. He walked towards the mantelpiece, roughly wiping his nose and tears with the sleeves of his shirt. Sniffing, he turned, picked up a heavy candelabrum and with all his strength swung it at one of the offending mirrors facing him. It had occurred to him that he would have to smash one of his mirrors to escape; it bore entrance to a hidden passage which led out of his current prison and most likely into another kind. If he smashed enough mirrors his pursuers might not suspect which was actually a doorway; effectively buying him time.

He swung the candelabrum into a second mirror, sending shards of reflective glass to the floor. He smirked. To him, mirrors had always looked much better in pieces. He lifted a curtain revealing a third mirror and stared at it, allowing himself a few more moments of hope. He looked around at what had been his home for over a decade. This had been his prison as well as his sanctuary. This was where she knew to find him- if he left she truly would be lost to him. He stood there gripping the candelabrum; his freedom. His knuckles turning white from his vice- like grip.

Maybe I should wait?

There isn't time.

If I leave it will truly be over.

It was over the moment she kissed you.

He looked down expectantly at the candelabrum almost beseeching this object to make the decision for him. He looked up at the mirror, his reflection confirming what he already knew. Finally he took a deep breath and swung at the final mirror; his doorway to a new life and undoubtedly a whole new set of problems.

It did not break. It only shattered. He looked up at his failed attempt and scoffed.

Of course.

His reflection was more abstracted than usual due to the shattered glass and he knew he had made the right decision.

Over.

Just as he was about to take the final swing he heard something that shook him out of his self- destructive state.

"Angel?" It cried. The sound floating over the lake to reach his ears. He turned around, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Christine?

You're imagining things. You have actually gone more insane than you already were.

Was it her? Surely he was not that delirious.

"Angel! Are you there? It's me! Please... If you are there, answer me!"

It was Christine! There was no doubt about it! Why was she here? There was no time to waste! The mob would be there at any second and if anything were to happen to her on his account he would gladly let them finish him off; end his miserable life once and for all.

"Christine!" He yelled, confused but immediately concerned for her safety. He swiftly dropped the candelabrum and rushed towards the source of the heavenly sound. She came into sight as he waded back through the knee deep water.

It was true! It was her!

"Christine!" He repeated, desperation in his voice. "What are you doing here?!"

Finally he came into view

Thank god. He's alright.

"Angel! Thank god!" she yelled at him through the portcullis. She had tears in her eyes and as The Phantom got closer to her she realized that he did too.

"Your'e alive!" she cried.

Finally he reached her and in his desperation, forgot himself and held her hands through the gate.

"What are you doing here?! It's not safe, Christine."

She looked into his desperate blue eyes and saw a mixture of very human emotions; sadness, regret, hope... Up until recently she had not thought of him as a man; a human. She was so distracted by the presence of these foreign attributes that she had forgotten he had asked her a question. His eyes were repeating it over and over and searching her features for a response.

Why?

"I... I don't know. I had to see you."

He stared at her, his gaze intensifying, searching her for answers once more; this time almost demanding them. She could feel the power of his gaze; it bore into her and she could not look away.

"I don't know what I feel..." She managed. "I don't understand it yet... but I had to come."

The Phantom felt a warm sensation inside of him that he had not experiences since she had first taken his hand that night months ago; her first journey down to his world. He had come to recognize this as hope. He smiled inwardly.

They stared at one another for a moment which felt like an eternity. This was the first time they had stood in front of each other as people, just people. He seemed so human and yet he was able to hold her with his gaze. At this moment thoughts of Raoul and the outside world seemed so far away. She was back under his spell and as she stared into his eyes she realized that she didn't want to be anywhere else. His eyes held so much emotion but Christine was not given time to identify anything as he abruptly spoke, his voice low and purposeful.

"We have to go, Christine."