February 10th, 1897

A month has gone by now, and I cannot stand this hell a moment longer. They both still dominate my thoughts to such a degree that I've decided to return my engagement ring to Raoul. I cannot marry him. Not now, perhaps not ever. Not until I truly, and honestly know where my heart lies.

Poor Raoul! He was so upset~ but at least he understood, and respected my decision. Neither of us wanted to make mistake that we would later regret.

I have found a fleeting moment of peace in this. For the first time in a long while, I've tasted this queer feeling once more. Although it lasted only for the shortest of times, this moment of peace reminded me what such a feeling felt like. I did not even realize I had forgotten it at all!

But now, I must see Erik.

If he is still there.

Christine closed her journal and all but extinguished the lamp at her little desk. She drew her cloak around her shoulders and set off into the fading light.

Weaving through the meager masses out for a fine evening was simple enough. She paid them as little mind as they paid her, nothing more than a mere glance, especially with the opera scandal already long forgotten.

In little time, she found her way to the small-gated doorway off Rue Scribe. With her hands shaking, she fished around her ladies' handbag with slim fingers as she sought out the familiar curves of metal. When she found the skull at her fingertips, she grasped it and drew out the strangest key she had ever seen. It was, quite literally a skeleton key of an iron corpse with wings, a fallen angel as Erik had put it, little larger than her palm.

She brought her eyes to the gate and looked at the small angels embedded in the cross-sections. To the left of the gate, a crosspiece lacked its angel although its cross-like outline and groove remained.

Raising her hand, Christine pressed the skeleton key into the empty indention.

A series of quiet clicks touched her ears before the gated door popped open with little sound.

Taking a long breath, Christine pushed through the gate and drew the key out from its socket before closing it behind her until she heard the locks click again.

The familiar lantern hung on the nearby hook, and she did not hesitate to take it up and light it.

Darkness receded with its luminance growing brighter. She lifted it up and away from her to bring light to the passage before her. However, what she saw instead was another gate. A gate she did not recall being there before.

A frown fell upon her lips as she dashed up to it and grabbed the bars, rattling them in some desperate attempt to open them. They did not give way to her futile attempts, as it remained an immoveable object.

"No!" she cried with tears threatening to spill from her eyes. No, she would not allow herself to cry now, even regardless of being so close and so far all at once. He would hear her. He always heard her. Unless he wasn't there, or worse, dead.

She shook the bars again. "Erik!" she shouted. "I am not leaving until you talk to me!"

No response came, no flicker of a shadow, no presence. Nothing.

With a small whimper in her throat, clutching the bars, Christine sank to the stone floor. Her skirts pooled around her, undoubtedly already stained in the grime of dirt and mud.

Time trickled by without measure beyond her occasional rattling at the gate. Even as the candle began to wane, she remained.

He was in his home by the lake. Not one moment passed where she doubted his presence down below. Eventually, he would tire of the raucous she made, and he would come. He always came.

When the candle came to be little more than a stub of wax and wick, minutes from its demise, Christine knew she was no longer alone. She felt him there. How she felt him so near, she never knew. What she did know, was that when he came around, something within her whispered of his proximity.

Her grip on the bars tightened until her pale knuckles lost what color remained. "I'll not leave until you speak with me," she whispered.

"Then speak."

"You did not wish me to stay."

"Your kiss returned my sanity," he answered in such softness that only he managed to achieve. "In that, I realized the choice in which I presented you was of no choice at all. It took advantage of your heart, your compassion. So much so that you would sacrifice yourself, even for ones you do not know. I want you with me out of love, Christine. Not for moral obligation."

Christine pressed her head against the gate, listening as he continued.

"That is why I released you of your choice. Your happiness is worth more to me than my own."

Tears prickled at her eyes, threatening to spill into a quiet river down her cheeks. As she began to grasp for words, they did fall from her lashes. "You speak as though what I did was a noble sacrifice. Perhaps it was my intent when I first kissed you, I do not even remember anymore. I just remember how it made me feel, and it was not hate or revulsion. It was love– just as you wrote it in your opera." She lifted her head and strained to see him in the darkness. "But Erik, what you did, the nobility of your sacrifice and your heart far exceeds my own."

"I disagree," he intoned.

"As you very well may. But know that it is what I believe, and will continue to believe until my end of days."

"Then I shall question your sanity."

Christine could not help herself but laugh a little, although she was alone in it. Did he smile as he said it? Did he realize the irony of it? It did not matter. Perhaps she was mad, even to laugh at such things. Stress often made people do strange things otherwise thought to be out of character for them, did it not?

She managed to sober herself, and took on a more serious tone as she meant every word that came forth from the bottom of her soul. "I wanted to apologize to you, for everything. I'm sorry for hurting you, I'm sorry for betraying you– there is no excuse. There is no viable explanation beyond my own confusion within myself. I do love you, but I still do love Raoul. I do not yet know the difference between it, or how I will ever know. I broke off my engagement to Raoul, so I may have time to decipher my feelings. Regardless of my conclusion, I still want you both in my life."

"I don't think that is possible for him or me, Christine."

The candle in her lantern finally went out, casting them in complete darkness. "Please try…"

Silence greeted her for what seemed like an eternity. Would he deny her? Would he leave her clutching to the gate that might as well be the frail hope of solace she clung to? Or would he try? Was the prospect of a platonic relationship even worth it to him? Could he stand being in her life if she ultimately chose Raoul?

These thoughts ran rapid in her mind until finally, Erik struck a match. His silhouette stood several feet away from the gate. The light of the match grew ever brighter as he brought it to the wick of the candle in his own lantern. "I will try."