A/N: I am so sorry that it took so long to update. I have been extremely busy. But now I finally bring you the next chapter of this story. I promise it will be a long one. Now I will respond to some of my comments and then begin this tale!

Gc diane: In the movie she didn't know his name, that's true. But in the book she did, so I am kinda mixing both worlds together. Maybe the way I wrote it confused you, but I did say that Erik sang those words of love to her. I'm glad you enjoy reading this. I won't give up on the story even if it takes long to update. I think Christine is more intelligent then they let on in the musical. They make it seem as if her decisions are made for her. Which is the way it seems since it makes no sense to be with Raoul. Except that he has money and hasn't killed anyone. Other than that I am not a fan of him, he is a fop.

Potosynthesis: I am so sorry it took so long to update. I've been busy but I will do my best to keep this updated as often as possible.

Phantomadark: Thank you!

Twinkle22: I am glad that you are enjoying reading this. I hope you won't want to kill me after taking so long to update.

Angel.De.Musica.: I heart you! I cannot forget my readers…the few that I have, I love you all.

ThePhantom'sEvenstar: I am currently re-reading Leroux's book. It states at first that Raoul was born 21 years after his brother. Then it says that Raoul is twenty. So I am guessing he was very close to 21. Christine I am pretty sure was 17 and if I am correct Erik was 25…but perhaps not.

After a couple of weeks Madame Giry acquired a position at a local theatre and was able to get both Christine and Meg positions there as chorus girls. Christine was happy to be on stage again, even if she wasn't the star. She actually preferred being out of the spotlight after all that had happened. Every now and then she would get curious looks from other girls in the chorus and she would hear whispering almost everywhere she went. But she was able to ignore it.

After rehearsing she and Meg would return home, Christine would go upstairs into her room and look out her window. Watching the people outside walk by, hoping that perhaps one day she would she her angel outside her window. Some nights she couldn't sleep and would sit in bed crying, wondering why she had left him. She should have begged him to take her with him. She would rather be dead than live a life without him.

It was on a Friday night that Christine slipped out of the house after dinner. She told the Giry's she had forgotten her shawl at the theatre and that she would retrieve it and return. The sun was just beginning to set and she hurried feeling nervous being out alone at night. She walked past the theatre and continued on, Paris was a pretty far walking distance but she couldn't bare being away from it any longer. She had to return to the Opera Populaire. She wanted to find any evidence she could of where he might have gone.

After walking for about an two hours, Christine finally saw the immense opera house come closer into view. She quickened her pace and before she knew it she was standing in front of the now ruined opera house. Now the only problem was, how would she get in? The doors had been boarded up, the only other way in was through one of the passages Erik had used, but she could only guess where she would find any of them.

She walked around the opera house, looking for any sort of opening that she could get in through. She spotted an area where the bricks seemed a bit different than the others. Most people wouldn't have noticed, but since she was looking for an opening or something else of the sort it hadn't been overly difficult to find. She ran her hands over the bricks and prodded them a bit, feeling slightly foolish but she was determined to get inside.

The panel of bricks that were different from the rest began to back from the rest and left a space an opening big enough for her to squeeze through. As soon as she was inside she heard the wall close back up behind her and was plunged into darkness. She waited for her eyes to adjust as her heart rate sped up, she had always had a fear of the dark. But the fear of living without Erik was stronger and gave her courage.

In the darkness around her she could see the outline of a few torches. She walked up to the one closest to her and reached into a descreet pocket on the skirt of her dress. She pulled out a box of matches and lit one, then lifted it to the torch hoping that it would light. Soon the torch in front of her began to glow, and began to flame. She blew out of the match and let it fall to floor, then put the box of matches back in their place. She grabbed the torch from it's holder on the wall and looked around, thankful for the sourch of light. She saw that she was in a dark, damp tunnel and there was a path to the right and one to the left.

She went with her gut and chose the path on the right, her footsteps softly echoing around her. She couldn't help but glance over her shoulder every once in a while. She hated being alone in the dark. But she had to go on, she would not give up.

Erik looked out of the window of the building he was staying in. Night was begining to fall and there were few people on the streets. He turned and walked over to the chair that was in the room. He grabbed his cloak which he drapped over the chair's back. He fastened it around his neck and made sure his mask was securely in place. He left his room without making a sound and headed out onto the backstreets of Paris.

It had been several weeks since the incident at the Opera house. He knew that police now thought he had fled Paris. Little did they know he was only a few blocks away from his form lair. He walked into the hidden passage outside the building that had a tunnel that connected to the opera house. He had to return. He had left several things there of importance to him and he only hoped that the mob hadn't destroyed it all.

As he drew closer to the catacombs of the opera house he felt slightly nervous. He was afraid to return to the last place he had seen Christine, to a place that he had once built as a throne for his music. A place that had once been his home. He was sure Christine had gone through with the marriage to the Viscount, who wouldn't? It was a secure match for Christine, everything she wanted or needed would be provided for her. He had looked through the newspaper for weeks, hoping for an announcment of the wedding. But he never saw one and thought that perhaps they had wanted to keep it private.

Lost in his thoughts he almost missed the turn that would take him into the tunnel that led under the opera house, recovering his sense of direction he continued walking. Finally he saw the frame of the mirror that had once helped to hide this tunnel. He stepped through the frame, avoiding the jagged pieces of glass that jutted out of the sides. He looked around and felt his heart constrict. His home had been destroyed.

The keys of the massive pipe organ had been smashed with some sort of heavy object and Erik had to fight the tears that threatened to escape. He ran his fingers over the ruined instrument and remembered the night Christine had removed his mask. He shuddered at the thought and decided he had to move along. There was always the chance that the police would return to make sure he was truly gone from his lair. He walked into the room that he had once furnished for christine. The bedding was ruined, and reeked of mildew. The bed itself was still in good shape, but it would do no good now. He looked over the mostly destroyed furniture and walked over to a chair that sat before a vanity. As he drew closer to it he could see that something was draped over the back of the chair and then the his heart skipped a beat.

It was Christine's costume from the night of Don Juan. Ever so gently he picked it up. It seemed that the mob had over looked this scrap of clothing and it had been saved from their wrath against the Phantom of the opera. He brought the costume to his face and breathed in the light scent that lingered there. The scent of roses and jasmine, the scent of his Christine. He once again fought back his tears and swiftly left the room, Christine's costume held firmly in his left hand.

He walked past the music room and into the room that he had once filled with paintings and other works of art that resembled Christine. He approached a desk in the corner, and with a key that he extracted from his pocket he unlocked its drawer. He was glad to see that the papers were still there. His master pieces hadn't been found. He grabbed the stack of papers and looked around from something to put them in when he heard light footsteps, that sounded too close for his liking. He quickly hid in one discreet crevices that lined the walls of the lair and waited to see who would dare to intrude on him.

Christine was relieved when she saw that she was traveling in the right direction, she could here the lapping sounds of the lake against he shore of Erik's lair. Soon she reached what she at first believed to be a deadend. There was something blocking her path, she held out her hand and was met with the feeling of velvet. She pulled at it and it feel releashing a cloud of dust into the air. She coughed slightly and stepped over the dark velvet. She looked around and gasped, the lair had been torn apart.

Erik heard the footsteps come closer and closer, then they stopped. He wondered if perhaps they had decided to turn back but then he heard the sound of fabric hitting the floor followed by the sound of coughing. That coughing...it sounded so very familiar. Then he heard a gasp...which also seemed so familiar...but he couldn't figure out who was now standing inside his former home.
Christine decided to first look in her room to see if there was anything left of her former Angel of Music. She was assualted by the strong smell of mildew as she stepped inside the room that Erik had once lovingly put together for her. She realized that her Don Juan costume should still be on the chair where she had left it only weeks ago but felt her heart sink when she saw it was no longer there. Who could have taken it? What she didn't notice was the dark shadow that lurked by the doorway.
When Erik heard to footsteps head in the opposite direction he left his hiding place in pursuit of his unwanted visitor. He saw a dim light coming from Christine's room and stood off to the side of her doorway, peeking around the frame. What he saw nearly stopped his heart. Standing in Christine's room, was none other than Christine herself.
Realizing that there wasn't much left of what had once been her room, Christine decided to leave and search the rest of the lair. She was almost past the doorway when a hand grabbed her wrist. She was spun around to face whoever it was, and the torch went flying out of her hand and went out, eliminating her only source of light. Her heart was beating frantically as her other wrist was capture by another strong hand. Her eyes had not yet adjusted to the dark and she could not see who was now holding her prisoner. But from the grip they had on her, they didn't seem to be very happy.
Erik saw Christine coming back toward the doorway and as soon as she was out of the room he grabbed her wrist and spun her around to face him. He was glad to see that she lost her grip and the torch and it went out plunging them into darkness. He grabbed her other wrist and stared at her, not believing that she had returned. He felt anger, desperation, sadness and hope all at the same time. He realized he hadn't said anything and knew that Christine still couldn't see him, since her eyes were still adjusting to the darkness. He could hear rapid breathing and knew that she was terrified.

"Christine." He said, between a growl and whisper.

He felt her tremble and then caught her in his arms as she fainted.