Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera. I also did not come up with the advice that Mamma V gives Christine in the middle of this chapter. I don't know where it came from--it's possible I pieced it together from various fortune cookies--but I know that it does not sound like anything my feeble mind would come up with.

A/N: Hello everyone. I am posting twice today because I will be gone for a bit at a conference. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little chapter. Soon everything is going to come crashing down on poor Christine (literally, the chandelier/kidnapping chapter is coming up as soon as I get back). Until then, thank you for reading. Reviews are always welcome.


Dear Journal,

My trip to Perros went well enough--I think. I got to say goodbye to Raoul, and for that I am thankful.

He didn't take it well, which I expected. What I did not expect was how badly I took the separation.

"Raoul, you must believe me!" she cried. Christine had met him at an Inn in Perros. At first she had meant only to say her goodbyes and tell him not to seek her out again. But, something about the concerned shimmer in his pale blue eyes made her resolve crumble in its entirety.

She had collapsed into a chair--still refusing to let him take her into his arms--and through her tears and whimpers, recounted all the events of the past six months. She told him about the Voice, the lessons, the jealousy. She told him of Mamma Valerius and her friends and the priest… none of whom could help her. She told Raoul about how she had seen him in his box for the last few days, and had purposely ignored him, fearing the Voice's wrath.

And now, rocking fretfully in her chair, fingering the silver crucifix and gold wedding band on the chain around her neck, she waited uneasily for his response.

To her horror, he did not seem to believe her.

"Christine… you have been under a lot of stress lately… perhaps you just need some rest…"

She wanted to scream. "No! Raoul, please hear me! You said yourself that you heard a man's voice in my dressing-room the night after the gala. Do you not believe that I am a virtuous woman? That I do not go locking myself away with men's voices? You say you checked the room after I left, and that there was no one there! How can you admit to all this and still not believe me?"

Something inside Raoul broke. He was not angry with her… rather, he felt this overwhelming concern. He saw the anguish in her sweet face and every ounce of his being urged him to protect her. Raoul was in love with her. He realized this now, more than ever. Never again would he deny it to himself or anybody else.

"Christine…" he reached for her but she wriggled out of his grasp and clapped her hands over her ears.

"NO! NO! NO! LEAVE ME! DON'T COME NEAR ME AGAIN!" she cried and ran.

She ran as fast as her aching legs would carry her, out the door toward the graveyard where her father's tomb lay. Her mind and heart were racing as well. This was the first time she had gotten to really talk to Raoul since they were reunited and the realization that dawned on her was unsettling. She needed to think.

I feel something for Raoul. More than a crush, more than an infatuation, I think I have fallen in love with him. As much as I know I shouldn't, I have.

I am reminded of what Mamma Valerius always told me as a young girl whenever I had my heart broken.

"But I fell in love with him, Mamma! What am I going to do? My life is over!" little Christine sobbed into her pillow. She was just barely eleven and suffering her first rejection.

"Dear child," she answered, "anything you fall into, you climb right back out of! Do you think my husband and I just 'fell in love' overnight? Of course not! These things take time and work. The heart is a fickle creature… it would serve you well not to let it push you around. You are the master over your own heart."

Christine nodded, unconvinced. But, true to Mamma's word, she was good as new within the week.

"Anything you fall into, you climb right back out of." Good advice, Mamma. The heart is a fickle creature, indeed. Then why am I having such a hard time with this. What good am I if I can not even control my own heart?

As Christine sat in the graveyard, issuing silent prayers for her father and trying to sort out her life, she sunk so deeply into her own contemplation that she did not realize the rapidly dropping temperature.

Her guardian watched her from his hiding place. When he looked upon the utter turmoil that her pale face and bluing lips portrayed, his heart went out to her.

He knew she would not last outside much longer. Just because he could not feel the cold did not mean that this angel of light would not suffer its effects.

Where is that boy? And why is he not with her? He thought with disgust about the boy's lack of sense in protecting his love. At the same time, he thanked him for abandoning her to him. Oh, de Chagny, do you not realize that you have left your little lamb alone in the presence of the wolf?

He needed to get her inside, get her warm, but he could not risk revealing himself to her. Not just yet. Soon, but not yet.

In a smooth motion, he lifted his violin and began to play The Resurrection of Lazarus. The song soothed her subconscious, reminding her of her father and the Angel of Music. Despite the cold, she fell asleep on the snow, arm draped lovingly over the tombstone.

Once assured of her sleep, he gently lifted her into his arms, holding her to him with the highest care--as if afraid she would break--and enveloped her in his heavy cloak. Then, climbing through her hotel-room window, he laid her down on her bed. He lingered slightly beside her, watching her slow, steady breathing. He felt strangely normal watching her sleeping form. Like a husband watching his wife… The thought sobered him and he escaped silently through the open window. How much longer can I last? This is torture! How much longer can I hide from her when every fiber in my body urges me to hold her? I can't keep this up forever. Soon, Christine… for now I must be patient.

I am so confused. If only my father were here. I miss him so much. It is funny that, with all that has happened and all I hold to be true in the world, I find myself wishing for an angel more than ever.

-Christine