Well, here you have it! I hope it isn't too quick… just a note, Suzette isn't the Carlotta character here.

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Chapter 4

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Throughout the next two months, Christine did all she could to ignore Raoul de Chagny. She found it hard, however, not to notice him watching her frequently, as if waiting for her to slip. He hadn't spoken to her once from that moment on and she, panicking that her angel might leave her, hadn't tried to be in his presence longer that was absolutely necessary. Not that it was very difficult – all she had to do was avoid him in the corridors and ignore his glances at mass. She was now afraid that even being in his presence might anger her angel, though the angel had never spoken to her with anything but kindness each day they met. However, she feared his all-seeing eyes, feared that they might see into her heart. She tried to convince herself that what she felt for the young aristocrat was an admiration, an infatuation.

It became all the easier when the household received a very respectable visit one day. Apparently, it had been planned for a long time, this visit. Families that were friendly with the Chagnys had come, or at least some of their family members. The de Chagny estate was slowly turning into somewhat of a hotel – the guest rooms were full. But even Christine, in her naivety, couldn't miss the fact that each family had brought at least one daughter with them, all around Raoul´s age… and every single one had been introduced to the Vicomte upon their arrival. Christine felt that only she saw the saddened look in Raoul´s eyes when he kissed their hands and welcomed them. Clearly he didn't like any of them.

Unfortunately for her, Suzette had spotted her staring at the Vicomte for a moment when she was cleaning the corridor and the aristocrats passed her. Suzette, carrying a bundle of clothes for the washing room, laughed harshly as the nobles vanished around the corner. "What do I see? The street rat likes to look at our master!" she smirked, "Can't keep your legs together? Or perhaps you have more noble intentions, the little innocent that you are? You've picked the wrong man for that, Mademoiselle Toad. Those women with him? The M´sieur le Comte wants his brother to marry one of them. Be smart and get yourself a man of your class. Or perhaps there isn't any who would like a little toad such as you, hmm?"

Marguerite wasn't nearby, so Christine didn't have any defence. Instead of replying, she simply continued wiping the floor with an expression of fierce determination. Suzette apparently got tired of her and marched away, still laughing to herself. However cruel her words had been, however, even Christine had to admit that she was right. Liking to look at the Vicomte was one thing. Daydreaming about what it would be like, to be a great lady that could walk at his side, like those pretty mademoiselles she had seen roaming the estate like queens.

She hurried to the church that night unlike she had ever before. The doors were open, as always, but she hurried to the altar so that she didn't even notice that another was there, a man whose attention she caught at once. He gently laid a hand on her shoulder, but she jumped as if he had struck her and took a step back. It was the Vicomte.

"You have come at last, mademoiselle." He said quietly, very humbly, "I was afraid you weren't going to come. Marguerite had told me you went to this church every day. I have been waiting here for you for some time, I didn't know when you would come…" he trailed off and smiled very slightly, very briefly.

Christine edged away in fear as if he had aimed a weapon at her. What if her angel was already here! But… he was everywhere! And if he would see this… she prayed for strength, for her heart was beating louder than ever before. She dared to hope. But her face was very frightened as she gazed at Raoul and whispered: "Wh-why did you want to sp-speak with me, monsieur?"

"I have been trying to speak with you for very long, but you have been avoiding me, Christine. Christine… may I call you that?" It almost seemed as if he were talking to some noblewoman. Christine found herself nodding shakily. "I wanted to ask you about yourself. What is your last name? How have you ended up in our service?"

"I… I don't understand why you would wish to know, monsieur." Christine looked down at the ground. "I am but a maidservant at your home. There is nothing to know."

Suddenly, he was much too close and grasped both of her hands in his. "By the Lord, Christine, don't you understand? I have endured many sleepless nights – the vision of you robs me of my peace! Have mercy and tell me who you are, I beg you…"

Christine's eyes widened and she quickly withdrew from his grasp. Her heart was beating rapidly. "Sir, I-I am not that kind of woman." she stuttered, shaking her head wildly.

Raoul stopped, looking at her with great surprise. Did she really think he had come here simply because he wanted to possess her physically? By God, what he felt was entirely different from that. He had experienced lust before, but it was a primal thing, a passing thing. But he didn't feel lust for this girl. It was something different, something that was beyond physical. "Christine, I didn't mean that…"

"Please leave, monsieur." she pleaded, "Please go and don't speak to me again. Just… leave me, please…" She looked very pitiful there, every inch of her being pleading for him to go. Raoul understood. She was afraid of being used and thrown away, like some toy. And he wouldn't be able to explain to her that his interest in her wasn't at all like that. She wouldn't believe him. What reason would she have to believe him?

Christine watched him bow to her, as if she truly were a great lady, and leave. Her breaths were shallow and she stood there like a statue for several minutes after he had left. She was hoping for some sign that what she had done had gone unnoticed by her angel, that he would come to her and calm her, assuring that nothing was wrong. She had done the right thing, after all – she had renounced any mortal feelings for the sake of faith. She had been good… her angel would be proud of her.

"Mortal child, have you lied in your pleas that I should not leave you?"

Erik, standing hidden from her view once more, saw her wince, as if he had struck her. She fell to her knees and begged, pleaded. He almost didn't hear any of it. She had an admirer! A man had succumbed to her innocent subconscious charms! She was slipping from his grasp. Her mouth was lying when she said that she wanted the young man to leave. Her eyes had betrayed her, her voice had quivered. She was losing her heart to that man – her devotion to her angel had swayed.

How come he hadn't noticed it before!

"Please don't leave me!" she cried hysterically, "I have renounced him, I never sought him out and never will! I have done it for you, my friend, my guardian, my angel! I haven't lied to you, I cannot, I dare not!"

A long, heavy silence greeted her words and Christine continued wailing, completely broken. Erik watched her from the shadows, considering her words. Her respect and devotion to him were obviously supported by her will and she was fighting a battle with her young heart. But even though she knew that her affection for a man above her class was foolish and doomed, even though her will was keeping her in check, he saw on her face that she was fighting a lost battle.

As he watched her, he came to the conclusion that he simply couldn't leave her like that. She was already hysterical, who knew what his complete absence would do to her mind and soul? She had grown to depend on him psychologically, for support and guidance. Inevitably, she would collapse if he would leave her and never fully heal. And he… he had grown to enjoy the fact that he could speak with another human being without screams, wicked words or pain. She was a wildflower he had taken from the wild and planted into a safe little garden, where he could take care of her and watch her grow. Now that she was threatened by weeds, it was, perhaps, time to move her to a greenhouse from which only he had the key.

The sound of her crying was almost physically hurting him.

"Christine…" his voice was back! He was still with her! Christine thought with a sudden jubilation as she raised her teary eyes back to the ceiling. He hadn't abandoned her! "Calm yourself. Don't cry."

"Take me away from here, please…" she sobbed, "This world I live in is wicked, filled with cruel, mocking strangers. Yours is a world of beauty and music… with you, I am not afraid… whenever I leave here, I am afraid… don't make me leave, please… take me with you…"

Again, there was a silence that frightened her. Erik had shut his eyes tightly, forcing himself not to look at her. She had no idea what she was asking. He felt his own tears underneath the mask. It wasn't for him that she was crying. She was crying for her angel, the angel that had never existed. He wasn't worthy of her innocence, her trust, let alone her tears. Each day, the brilliant glow of ecstasy that surrounded her grew and he found joy in the fact that it was his doing. Happiness hadn't made her pretty – it had made her radiant. She was still the same, yet completely different. Her light pulled him like a ghost eager to leave purgatory. He knew that instead of allowing her to bring him to heave, he would be the one to drag her down to hell with him. But he couldn't help himself, despite knowing the wickedness of what he was doing. She was the first person ever to cry for him, ever to speak to him with gentle, tender words, the first to persuade him that he wasn't set apart from the human race.

He wasn't… or he wouldn't be able to yearn to keep her close.

"Come, and believe in me! Those who believe in me will live again!" he called out, ignoring the persistent guilt and fear within him. He couldn't refuse any wish she had, not even this mad request that could very well be her doom. "Walk! Those who have believed in me cannot die!"

Christine rose, trance-like, walking closer to the altar in front of her. More tears fell down her cheeks, tears of happiness. She prayed silently, waiting, knowing that her angel would come for her. She wasn't afraid of death – it was a small price to pay for an eternity of happiness, joy. She had renounced all earthly passions, all mortal connections, for this. In her heart she knew that she would be rewarded for all those days of hoping that one day, she would be worthy in the eyes of her angel, worthy enough to see him.

But no new light penetrated the darkness of the church; no sign of any holy spirit eased her mind. She didn't see anyone, least of all the bright lights she had always imagined surrounded angels. Suddenly, however, a hand closed in around her throat, surprisingly gently, as if to only prevent her from turning rather than in an attempt to choke her. In a moment of panic, she thought of trying to struggle, but her angel's voice sang a lullaby in her head. She no longer understood… there was only darkness.

Erik sensed that she didn't have the strength to handle the moment and caught her limp body before she could injure herself. Her form was even more slender than he had imagined and her face was even paler in the moonlight. When fear wasn't spread across her face, she looked very peaceful and if she were smiling, he imagined that she would be like the sun, her hair seemingly rays of its golden light. The sun of his life, that was what she was for certain. Her smile had illuminated his path for the past months and giving up that light and returning to darkness wasn't his intention.

He knew well that once she would wake, she would realize that she had been deceived, that she would hate him and renounce him. So he would have his dream now and hold another person without them objecting, imagine that she wouldn't mind if she were conscious, imagine that she could learn to accept him, trust him, love him, as he had learned to worship her for what she had given him. She wouldn't wake up in heaven, though she deserved no less than that. But he would deal with that once the time would come.

For now, heaven was his alone.