A/N: Hey guys! Thought I'd say a quick hello and thank you for giving my story a read. This is my first official attempt at a fanfiction and I tried the first chapter as a kind of taster I suppose. Anyway I feel this one is a little more refined than the last, also any and all feedback and criticism is welcome (please make it constructive though). This is a mixture of both the book and musical, although I would say predominantly the musical. I hope you enjoy and again thank you J

Disclaimer: Despite my wishes I do not own Phantom of the opera

Chapter 2

Slowly I dismounted my horse as I stared dumbfounded at the opera. This place that held so many beautiful memories; but equally held so much pain. Its marble pillars stood tall and intimidating in the darkness, making me feel even smaller than I already did at this point. Swallowing the lump of built up fear that had begun to form in my throat, I slowly led my horse to the back of the opera to the stables. There I left him giving him a last pat for reassurance before starting my search for the phantom.

Remembering that there was a grate the side of the building that led to the outskirts of the sewers and cellars of the opera I quickly walked the length of the Populaire before locating an appropriate opening. It was narrow and looked damp and a little dirty with age but it would suffice. Grabbing hold of the grate with two gloved hands I heaved at the sides pulling backwards. However I had not anticipated the weight I would have to use to move it. With all my force I huffed, pulling with as much force as I could muster at the grate, beads of sweat began to form on my forehead before it suddenly gave away and left me sprawling on the cobbled floor. "Lucky it's night-time" I thought as I clumsily regained my feet, elegance had never really been in my nature. I decided the most sensible option would be to slide feet first through the gap, slowly lowering myself until my feet made contact with the damp cold stone floor below.

The moonlight dimly lit my passage, it was narrow, and there was nothing to be heard apart from the occasional dripping of water that echoed, filling the deafening silence. Tentatively I made my way through the damp and winding route. It had been so long but I could still vaguely remember the way to the phantoms lair...at least I believe I did. As I journeyed on the path got darker and darker before I was plunged into blackness, my breathing became rapid as I had to feel my way along the narrow passage ways relying on my hearing and touch now. I blinked desperately trying to locate a source of light, and partly to prevent the fear filled tears threatening to flood from my eyes any moment. A sudden noise in the eerie silence startled me, letting out a small yelp as what I presumed was a sewer rat scampered past my feet.

"Keep going Christine" I breathed to myself.

All the while though as I clumsily felt my way down twisting and turning passage ways l couldn't stop thinking about the phantom. I didn't even know his real name, yet I was willing to return to his arms after six long years? A man who killed without a thought, who kidnapped and held me hostage, who's own troubled past morphed him into a compassionless monster?...But also A man who sacrificed years of his life for me so that I could reach my full potential, a man who comforted a lonely and sad child, a man who really loved me once and hopefully still would now.

As my thoughts began to consume me I almost missed the soft glow of a candle in the distance. Walking towards it I could see more clearly now a passageway of candles lit. I noted that their dim light meant they were near to burning out, whomever lit them was in no need of them at this point. I followed the candles like they were pools of water in a hot desert down the passage ways, suddenly memories once suppressed for years began to flood back. This was where my angel had first taken me after revealing himself to me in my dressing room. He blindly led me then the naïve girl I was, however my heart led me now, and I was unsure which one was more dangerous. Turning around a final corner I had come to the opening of what I remembered was the phantoms lair or perhaps "home" although there was nothing homely about this place. I slowly walked through the large gates that were luckily opened;

"As if many people would be wishing to come down here this time of night" I thought to myself, yet here I was.

I realised that time had not changed here. I stared in awe around the chaotic yet beautiful and equally terrifying place where the magic of music was made and nurtured by the angel himself. Books were scattered everywhere from poetry to human biology, a desk filled with neatly positioned pots of ink and quills resided at the far back of this magnificent space. My gaze fell upon the lonely organ that stood in the corner of the room with piles of sheet music scattered upon it. Walking towards it I could see it had a thin layer of dust upon it, a frown appeared upon my face as I realised it meant that the instrument had been neglected for a period of time. Unusual for the phantom I remembered who revelled in his musical talents and the exquisite notes he could produce. Somehow my fingers found their way to this lonesome creature and I began to play a familiar song that I held dear to my heart. It was the start of my fleeting yet memorable career "Think of me".

Realising how long it had been since I had properly sung my voice surprised me a little when it burst its cages from within and began to perform this beautiful song once more.

"Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye"

I journeyed through the song, the joy of music surpassing the terror I had felt moments ago as a wave of emotion swelled from my chest projecting from my voice.

"There will never be a day when I won't think of you"

I carried the note strongly yet softly as my fingers and voice came to a slow end. At this moment my body suddenly felt a presence within the room as the hairs of my neck began to stand on end. Slowly turning I gasped as I was once again eye to eye with my angel of music, who stood looming and intimidating metres away from me. His contorted face had upon it an expression of surprise yet also a cocktail of anger and fear.

"Can it be? Can it be Christine?"