A/N: WARNING! Okay, this chapter has become slightly graphic and violent. The story has a Teen rating... I don't think it needs a Mature one, but as things are going to be escalating in my story, I will change it if anyone finds it offensive, or thinks it deserves higher! Thanks!

Also note, this is an 'Erik' chapter. His 'voice' is in third person, where as I am writing Christine's in first person. I'm sorry if this confuses anyone, but I just wanted to clarify:-)

Chapter 11: Observance

Surrounded by the dark shadows of the theatre box, Erik stared down at the girl who was quickly becoming an obsession. For the past two weeks, Erik had followed Christine DuBois-- to and from work, to her rehearsals, even her home. Ironically, she lived not far from where he had made his home, hidden from view from the rest of the city. She might have even walked past his entrance in the past, and never would have known a home existed deep within the walls.

It had been easy to sneak in and out of the theatre. Years ago while exploring the more unknown parts on Boston, he had discovered many abandoned subway tunnels, some which had passage ways into the basements and cellars of old theatres. Through some research he had discovered that many early 1900s theatres had used electricity directly from the subway trains that ran near or beneath the stages. Doorways and entrance ways had been made for easier access to the lines and cables that ran the power. Although newer power systems were installed later in the century, the secret passages still existed, some caved in, but some very much open, and were now used as a means of invisible travel by Erik.

He also learned the entire Majestic Opera House was filled with secret rooms, closets, and tunnels, long abandoned and forgotten. They were perfect for Erik and allowed him to travel throughout the building to follow Christine and not be spotted.

It did not take Erik long to determine that Christine DuBois knew nothing of Randall Chagny's problem. The phone conversations he had tapped between the two shared nothing of the boy's work issues, and Christine even directly admitted to having broken up with her boyfriend. In fact, it seemed as if Chagny was smarter than Erik assumed-- Chagny would not tell Christine what was wrong, even when she flat out asked him for details. Randall Chagny was doing more than not burdening her with the information, he was saving her life.

At first, Erik was not sure why he continued to keep track of her, even after he knew she was no longer a part of his official job. He told himself it was because he needed to be sure Chagny didn't snap under pressure and include her in his secret, but he certainly didn't need to appear before her at her job, or watch her at rehearsals.

In reality, he did not want to admit to himself the real reason why he took an interest to her. When Erik first saw her photograph, he felt a connection, as if he had seen her somewhere else before. He tried blocking it out of his mind, but after a time, the past came flooding back to him. He immediately knew why he was drawn to Christine DuBois-- she reminded Erik of her.

It was years ago, just before Erik had moved to America, leaving his work as a government assassin in Europe behind. At the time, Erik was in Russia and news had leaked that a spy from the Middle East had penetrated into the country's military and defense branch. The man had been stealing secrets and sending them back to his own country to help one of the major terrorist groups with their nuclear arms and biological warfare programs. When he was discovered, a death sentence was put on his head. He could not flee Russia, knowing that he and his wife would be executed if caught. So, they went deep into hiding, and became far more difficult to find than the Russian government had anticipated. Erik had been called in to find the man and his wife, carry out their execution, and clean up the mess.

It took Erik longer than he thought to find them. But to him, it was never a matter of 'if,' it was always a matter of 'when and how.' Eventually they were located, and Erik began planning their deaths. Because of the spy's position, Erik was also instructed to get information out of him pertaining the the terrorist group's activities and other potential members who were in the country. Torture was to be used if necessary.

It was vital to Erik's plan that he deal with the husband and wife separately. He waited until he knew the wife had left the house to run some sort of errand in secret. Why her husband let her out of his sight given their circumstances he would never know. But he did, and Erik acted on the opportunity.

He had had the man tied standing upright, a rope around his neck, hanging from a pipe on the ceiling of their basement grotto hideout-- pulled tight enough to choke, but not enough to hang. The spy was stronger than he had anticipated. Erik tortured him-- breaking bones, cutting him deep enough to draw blood, but never enough to kill him-- for what seemed like days, but was only actually less than an hour. Erik finally took off his mask, as was his custom, making sure his victim would see the face of death before he would die.

Yet, the spy would give nothing up, no names, no information, nothing. Erik even told him his wife had already been murdered the minute she left, torturing him mentally, tempting him to spill all he knew, but the man would not crack. Erik's time was running out, and he knew it was pointless. He gave the man one more opportunity to speak, not that it would have saved him, and when the man did not comply, he slit his throat, letting enough blood run to finally finish the kill.

Erik cut the rope holding the man up, and grabbed the bloody corpse before the body hit the ground. He had no remorse for the man, he had brought this upon himself by choosing to be a terrorist spy, and Erik had simply been doing what he had been known for and had been paid to do. But in as an act of respect, Erik closed the man's eyes. It was in this position that he was caught by the man's wife who had returned home from the errand she had run.

At first, she made no noise, simply stared with round, widely opened, disbelieving eyes at Erik holding the body of her lifeless husband . Erik was frozen to the spot, engulfed in her gaze. He stared back and took in her face-- beautiful pale skin, thick, curly dark hair falling past her shoulders in waves, and full red lips. Then there were her eyes, a green so vidid they were almost electric, staring straight back into his eyes, into the unmasked face of her husband's killer. The image was permanently burned into his mind.

Then she began screaming. He thought he would never forget the sound of those screams, no matter how much he tried to block them out. It was the sound of loss, a loss so great that even Erik, in all his brilliance, could not and would not ever understand. His mind numb, Erik took a step back and dropped the body into the woman's arms. She sank to the floor screaming and crying over her dead lover. It wasn't supposed to happen that way. She wasn't supposed to see, wasn't supposed to know.

He had planned to kill her, yes. But quickly, painlessly. She had done nothing to deserve this type or amount of torture. Her sin was loving her husband, so much that she would follow him anywhere, even into hiding, all the way to the end, an end that she surely must have known meant her own death. That love made something inside of Erik snap. He had never known such a love, had never witnessed it so strongly in front of his own eyes. His life was mired in death and hate, destruction and greed, in revenge and suffering. Early in life, Erik had been the victim. But somewhere in his time he had turned into the instigator.

Erik knew in that moment he could not kill her. For the first time, he felt sick. Sick from the woman's cries of anguish, sick from the love between the two that Erik had never experienced. Sick from his life. When had he become so heartless that he didn't even have feeling for a woman who had committed no crime, other than love? Had he lost all humanity? He hadn't been sure, but knew he couldn't stay there, living that life. He left the woman sobbing, and that very night fled to America to escape that past, to find some peace and understanding.

Erik had later learned that the woman, with nothing more in her life, gave herself up, and was executed by the Russians immediately. It hadn't mattered that he had left her alive. For the first year in his new life, Erik contemplated the events in Russia. What had begun as a sick sadness slowly turned into a bitter regret and anger. He wasn't even sure what he was angry with anymore. Sparing her had done nothing, killing her would have accomplished nothing.

Time made the feelings fade, until Erik began to feel like the same heartless shell of a person he had been in Europe. He was alone and still isolated from humanity. Why had he ever grieved over them? After two years of living in the States, when the unexpected phone call came for him to perform a new job, he was still reluctant, but agreed. He forgot that night, and the woman and fell back into the routine of his work.

Until almost ten years later, when he had seen the photograph of Christine DuBois, the memories came flooding back. Her resemblance to the woman was uncanny, even down to the green eyes he discovered upon meeting her in person at the library. Although, instead of sadness and regret, he felt a warmth and possibly even hope.

It wasn't so much Christine herself, but the idea of her and what her appearance and likeness to the woman so many years ago might have represented. A second chance, perhaps? Where he once took away life away, could he now rebuild it?

Christine's passion and involvement in music certainly resonated with Erik, and drew him to her. He had used his music as an escape for many years, a way to forget the rest of the world even existed. He would have made a living of it, but no one would hire him. No one would pay to watch Death's head on a stage, no matter the skill. Humanity had robbed him of a better life, a moral life.

But now there was Christine. Her dancing skills were beyond compare. Vocally, she was a diamond in the rough. Her voice was very untrained, but was pure and clear. She lacked emotion, she lacked passion when she sang, but he knew she had it within her. Her voice needed to be nurtured, she needed to put the same feeling into singing as she did into her dancing.

No, he really hadn't meant to follow her around so much, or take such an interest, but it was happening. He knew deep down it was foolish to get involved, but he could not help himself. After all, she was just a victim of life's cruelties as well-- her parents' deaths, her incompetent boyfriend, and even now, she quietly endured the mockery of an opera diva. That had not gone unnoticed to Erik. He knew the pain of insults and jeers all too well.

Erik was certain he could make her shine. She could be the brightest star on stage if she was willing to learn. But could he teach her? Something in him wanted to, needed to. Unfortunately, there was a slight conflict of interest-- he was committed to eliminating her ex-boyfriend.

He had already started the next phase of his job. Erik could have easily killed him already, but found mentally abusing him had its perks too. It had always been his routine to cause the target as much anxiety and mental anguish as possible until they almost begged for death.

Randall Chagny had been the unfortunate recipient of two letters from the Phantom. The first had been a warning to Chagny not to speak out about what he knew of the business dealings he discovered. Erik had included two photos of the boy, one of him at home eating, the other of him at work. Copies of incriminating company documents were also thrown in for good measure. And in blood red ink scrawled across a page, the message was clear--

He knows where you are, he knows what you do,

The Angel of Death is coming for you. . . .

Chagny had been visibly shaken, and Erik was pleased.

The second letter was far more personal, it was a warning about Christine. Erik, in his newfound obsession would never harm her, but Chagny did not need to know that she was safe. He sent several shots of Christine from the library, at home with her roommate, and one on the stage of the theatre. His note this time was far less poetic--

The Angel of Music has her now.

Stay Away! If you value her life. . . .

He simply didn't want Chagny bothering Christine. Perhaps Erik was being selfish, but she seemed to be warming to him.

However, earlier in the week Chagny had tried asking her out again for dinner. Erik sent the second letter the day after that phone conversation. She had turned him down on her own, which was good. But if Erik had any hope of seeing what sort of voice he could raise out of her, she needed no other commitments or attachments. Randall Chagny did not deserve Christine DuBois, and soon he would not even be an issue anymore. It was just a matter of time.

Erik broke his thoughts and looked back up to the stage. The rehearsal was over, and the company was packing up their belongings and heading out. Christine looked exhausted, but satisfied. She had danced well that afternoon, far better than anyone else. She was beautiful and graceful, and moved as if she weighed nothing more than air. She was strong and limber, leaping and turning as easily as she could walk. It almost seemed wrong to train her to sing and ignore the talent she had in ballet. But Erik had not been lying to her that night at the library, he was proud of her, proud of both talents.

He saw the director walk towards her, and assumed he had notes he wanted to go over with her. She had taken on a lot of responsibility in her position as an assistant to the choreographer. Erik decided it was time he had better leave for the evening and silently made his way out of the box, lost in the shadows and darkness. It wouldn't be long before he saw her again. And soon, she would dazzle the world with the voice of an angel.

A/N: I'm not sure when and how this chapter became SO Susan Kay based...but there you go! It's also a lot longer than I originally planned, but I was struck with all these ideas in the shower this morning.

I hope you enjoy this chapter, and as always REVIEW:-) Thanks.