Quiet, that had been the first thing she'd noticed about the Manor. It hadn't been so blatantly obvious when she'd first sought refuge there after the fire. Her ears had still been ringing with the primal cries of the Phantom when she'd left with Raoul, they'd echoed out across the lake. Her ears were full of the chants of a furious mob making their way to destroy the man she'd loved. But once she realized that he had not died in his lair, the drumming inside her head had ceased.

Now there was only chilling silence.

"Do you not even have a piano forte in the manor?" Christine asked solemnly as they ate breakfast a week or so after the wedding.

"No." Raoul replied, glancing towards his brother Phillipe, "Not since our mother died ten years or so ago. Our father had the piano taken out of the Manor. We haven't dared bring back the instrument."

"But your father is… dead." Christine replied, rather bluntly. She noticed the brothers and their sister Reinette tense at her words. "I apologize if that was rude, but it is true. Who is to stop there from being music?"

"You believe in phantoms don't you?" Phillipe retorted coldly, his laugh echoing in the small breakfast room that looked out at the grand maze in their garden.

"Phillipe." Raoul chastised, reaching for Christine's hand warmly. "We only wish to honor our father's wishes. That is all. But if you wish, perhaps we could purchase you a piano. Would that make you happy?"

"We will not bring that confound instrument into this house." Phillipe hissed, "It is bad enough that you had to marry yourself a little song bird from the Populaire. Father would have been disgraced by your ignorance."

Christine bowed her head, staring down at her barely touched meal. She had lost her appetite. "I am sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No Christine…" Raoul squeezed her hand. "I was only ten when my mother died. She had been ailing since I was six. I barely saw her. Phillipe was far more affected by her death."

"What was she like?"

"For another time, my dear." Raoul gave her a silencing look, begging her not to go into this now.

Phillipe and Reniette exchanged glances across the table, laughing at their sister-in-law's sheepish demeanor.

"I didn't mean to be rude." Christine whispered, placing her napkin on the table. "Excuse me, I don't feel well. I would like to retire to my chamber." She made haste as she rushed from the breakfast room. She suddenly felt as though her stomach were to betray her. It had been rolling uneasily since she'd awoken but she didn't think anything of it.

"Christine!" Raoul shouted as he followed after her. "What is wrong?" He questioned as he slipped into chamber in time to see Christine curled over her chamber pot. "Have they gotten you this worked up?" He knelt beside her, petting his fingers through her hair.

"I do not feel well."

"I can see that," Raoul chuckled slightly, holding back her hair as she expelled her stomach's contents again. "My brother has always been rather pig-headed. He means well, even when he is cruel."

Christine sat up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "They look at me as though I am crazy. They make slants about him."

"We promised not to speak of him."

"I know you think that he is the cause for me being a pitiful excuse for a bride." Christine cringed as her stomach flopped. He was the reason she had yet to fulfill her duties as a wife. "I am still so fearful that he is watching us. Every little creak in this old manor sends me into a panic."

Raoul hushed her, pulling her into his arms and cradling her against his chest. "Christine I promised to protect you and I will not let that promise go."

"If you want to protect me, please let me make music in this house. I cannot bear to live without ever hearing music again, without opening my mouth and singing. God! It is so quiet here."

"Oh Christine, my Little Lotte." Raoul held her tight to him.

"The very reason we met was because my father was tutoring you at violin. What happened to that? Why did your father cease to love music?"

"My mother was a gifted singer. My father fell in love with her voice and in turn fell in love with music. She was from a very fine, very rich family in northern France. Once my mother began to fall ill after Reniette's birth, she was no longer able to sing. I was tutored in violin for as long as my mother thrived. Your father was cast away by my father and my tutoring ceased. My father's love for her was purely based in her voice."

Christine shuddered as she clung to Raoul, "So music became potent to him?"

"Yes. My brother, as my father, blamed music to be her undoing. This is why Phillipe is so adamant against bringing music back to the manor. But if it will make you happy again, I will bring a piano forte into the west wing of the manor. It is seldom visited by my siblings and will do well for you to practice."

"I haven't been to the west wing."

"It was my mother's wing."

"Phillipe wouldn't be angry would he?" Christine looked up at Raoul with her doe eyes.

"I will deal with him. For now," Raoul slowly helped Christine rise to her feet. Catching her by surprise as he swept her off of her feet and into his arms. "You must rest."

"Thank you Raoul!" Christine beamed, pressing a kiss to his chin. "Thank you!"

If there was music again, surrounding her, then all would be perfect once more.

~o~

The ship was cramped on the lower deck, but thankfully in the cramp conditions the lighting was also dim. Madame Giry sat beside the masked phantom, petting her sleeping daughters golden locks as she slept against her shoulder.

"We will start again in America." He muttered, starring down at his gloved hands. "They have been saying for two centuries that America is the land of fresh starts and freedom and accepting."

"Yes." Madame Giry agreed, "You can start again somewhere where no one has heard of the masked man who haunted the Opera Populaire. Let the curtain fall on your past. Let us start again."

"The fire consumed everything of the past."

"They think you dead." Madame Giry, turned to look at him. "They all think that you were burned to death in the fire."

"Yes, they all do." He inwardly smiled, remembering with painful memories that Christine knew that he lived.

"Mother do you think Christine will be upset that we missed her wedding?" Meg asked, shifting in her sleep. "I wish we could have seen her one last time."

"Meg, dear, go back to sleep." Madame Giry warned, eyeing the Phantom cautiously. In the dim lightening she could see his eyes igniting with anger. "I am sorry."

"It doesn't matter now." He coldly retorted, his body rigid as he remembered Christine's body wrapped around his. She was so fragile and so beautiful. He would have destroyed her if he had stayed. He would carry the memory of the music they made with him until he died.

How would life go on until he heard her sing once more?