Christine's heart thudded in her chest. She would never be able to sleep now. Marie was helping her dress when she heard Erik's bedroom door crash open and his heavy footsteps run down the stairs and out the front door. With a dreadful feeling sinking deep into the pit of her stomach she knew he must have overheard them talking. How much had he listened in on? What would he think of her now? Her shame felt double fold now for the thoughts and feelings she had been experiencing. She felt no better than a cheap harlot who sold her innocence away. Erik had once told her that it was her virtue that he both adored and protected, once even referring to Raoul as 'a typical spring bull ready to mount the freshest young calf come to heat'. He did not know that Raoul had never done more than dare to kiss her hand, but she knew with a flush of disgust that the hardness in his pants when he pressed himself too close as he embraced her told her that he wished to do otherwise. It felt somehow wrong for him to want her like that. She had never been kissed, not in the way that lovers kiss anyhow. Did she want that from Raoul? He was handsome no doubt, but she had known him for so long that he felt almost brotherly to her.

Erik was dangerous, on many levels. She knew that already. He hinted that somewhere in his past he had needed to defend himself more than once. His music threatened to crush her beneath its weight. She knew he wanted her with an intensity and wholeness she did not imagine to be possible. At first she was too naïve to see he wanted her for more than her music, but little by little he revealed his true feelings towards her until she finally realized what that raw look of hunger in his eyes meant. She knew enough of men from the warnings of Mme. Giry and the other older women working at the opera that 'men are only after one thing'. Erik was never after just one thing, though. He was after everything once he decided he wanted something. He would have it all, and that thought frightened her, because she could not answer her own question; did she want him to want her wholly?

She had stayed inside her room for awhile after hearing Erik leave but finally went downstairs to have a small supper. Her appetite left her only able to stomach a few bites. Now she didn't know if it was the hunger or the butterflies in her stomach were worse. After dusk, she did not know when Erik would be coming back or where he had gone to. She went outside to get some fresh air and try to clear her mind. Instead she got something much unexpected. She heard the wailing of a violin being played faintly on the wind. She had never heard this particular tune, but she recognized the undertones of Erik's masterpiece being played into the night. She followed the sound down the hill until she could make out Erik, standing at the cliff's edge, playing his precious violin at a maddening speed. The music was, intoxicating. She had never heard anything like it. Nothing she knew had ever sounded so incredibly, what was the word she groped after? Never heard anything so full of, what? Heartache? Passion? The music was violent on the surface but the harmony contained all the emotion she felt welling up inside her as she gazed upon Erik, playing his soul to the night. She realized with a start, "My god, he's so incredibly beautiful," she whispered out loud. She saw him very clearly now. She looked at him and did not see and Angel of Music, nor her teacher, and not the frightening Opera Ghost. She saw Erik, as a man, and he was beautiful.

And she could have him if she dared.

The thought made her tremble with the certainty of it. Did she have the courage to tame such a magnificent and overwhelming being? She heard him cry out as the song came to a climactic ending and did not wish to be caught spying on him. She knew this music was his most cherished and he had never offered to play it for her; he said it would change her in ways he would be powerless to stop. And he was right, it had.

Christine rolled over on her side to look out the window at the night sky. She needed to be away from him to think, to attempt to make a decision. At the opera house they were apart often enough that she could clear her head between liaisons. But here, away from everything and in such close quarters for so many days she felt overwhelmed. Tomorrow, she decided, she would visit her father's grave, alone.

She hardly slept that night and rose before the sun had peeked over the horizon. The sky outside was tawny and pink with the fresh morning when she left the inn for her walk. Marie was already up and starting her day in the kitchens. She packed Christine some food and gave her a fresh end of a loaf with raspberry preserves for her to eat as she walked. Christine asked Marie to give Erik a note which she quickly penned down onto a small piece of paper and folded over twice.

"Mind if I peek?" Marie joked, pretending to unfold it.

Christine raised her eyebrow at her and gave her a look that was obviously a 'no'.

"Alright, alright," she laughed and tucked the note into her apron. "As soon as he rises I will give it to him. Please, do be careful today. I wish you were taking a horse to ride at least."

"Marie, thank you for the offer, but I would prefer to walk to the cemetery. I know it's a long way, but it will give me time to," she paused, "think things over."

Marie gave her a knowing look and then hugged her goodbye and went back to rolling out the dough for her pastries.

Christine began walking along the dusty road toward the cemetery. She knew it would take her most of the morning and possibly into the afternoon to get there but she was thankful for the excuse to get away from Erik for a day. She only hoped she would have a better grip on her feelings and thoughts by the time she returned that evening.

Back at the inn, Erik awoke feeling nearly as groggy as the morning before when the brandy was doing a tap dance on his head. He felt exhausted still. Playing his Don Juan, especially the theme for the love scene, drained him entirely. He was glad for the distraction. It was still early and he hoped Christine would have gotten over her embarrassment of the day before when he made his way down to the dining room.

Marie greeted him with a nod of her head, her arms in flour up to her elbows. He sat at the small table next to the window and looked out; disappointed to see Christine had not arrived ahead of him. He would of course tell her, that yesterday at the beach was not a big deal and she shouldn't worry herself any more about it. He wanted more than anything to see her like that again, but not if it meant having to go through another evening like that.

Marie brought out a pot of coffee and a mug on a tray, along with Christine's letter. "She asked me to give this to you," she said, handing it to him. "Is there anything else you want this morning? I won't force another breakfast on you like the one you had the other day." She winked at him.

"No, thank you," he said, now preoccupied and curious about Christine's note. When Marie left the room, he feverishly unfolded the note and read:

Dear Erik,

Please excuse my absence today. I have gone to visit my father's grave to pay my respects. I sincerely hope you understand that I wished to go alone. Forgive me. I will see you when I return.

Yours always,

Christine

Erik was sorely disappointed to know she had gone on without him. He was tempted to follow her along but her wishes for a day by herself were a mutual relief. He needed time to compose himself and come to grips with the unforeseen possibilities that had come about in the last few days. He re-read her closing of 'Yours always' twice before he tucked the note away in his pocket.

He finished his coffee and after a second thought, begged Marie for one of her freshly baked pastries.

"Couldn't resist them?" Marie smirked as she handed him two of them. "See, I knew you were hungry."

He was, having not eaten a bite since the tumultuous picnic yesterday afternoon. He was suddenly at a loss of what to do. Boredom was rarely a fate he suffered, but at home he had his music and the opera to occupy his mind. Without Christine there, his day was now a void of possibilities and countless hours to fill, and there was nothing he could think to do.

Whether it was boredom or the fact that his dreams last night had been vivid replaying of the overhead conversation, he took a dare and went into town to visit the little jeweler's shop. As he entered, the bell overhead the door tinkled, announcing his presence to a man behind the counter. He was not the same ancient old gentleman Erik had seen in the shop previously. He was tall and lanky, dressed impeccably in a finely tailored suit and had a thin, wiry mustache underneath a long pointed nose, which the man was looking down at a newspaper. He glanced up when he heard the bell and saw Erik's person dressed in clothing even finer than his own. He tossed the newspaper down onto the counter.

"Good morning sir! How may I assist you?" he exclaimed greedily.

Erik pushed the hood back from his head, revealing his mask and the man in front of him took a sudden step back. "You're here to rob me, aren't you? Here, take the jewels!" He cried out and backed away behind the counter like a coward.

Erik expected this sort of reaction, having experienced it before, "I'm not here to rob you, although I do expect a fantastic deal since you've now treated me so rudely," he said, very irritated.

His shock at Erik's response made him stammer and finally call out, "Father," to the man in the back room. He quickly made his way back there and began giving an explanation to him that Erik could only make out the tone of his voice.

"I don't care what he's wearing you young fool. You don't treat a customer that way," Erik heard an aged voice say loudly. The old man entered the front of the shop slowly, his shoes scuffling on the wooden floor. He squinted at Erik as if to discern whether he was actually wearing the mask his son told him about.

"Pay no attention to my son," He apologized to Erik, "He's an idiot who thinks too much of himself."

Erik tried hard not to agree with him out loud.

"Now then, what can I help you find today; something for yourself or perhaps, your wife?"

Erik shook his head, still not knowing if he dared purchase what he came in for.

"Ah, then it's a young woman you wish you buy for," the shopkeeper chuckled.

Erik found his voice, "Yes, a very special young woman."

"I see," he replied, and then added, "You know there was really no need to wear a mask, we do know how to be discreet about our customer's orders. You wouldn't be the first man to fear his lady came inquiring whether or not their sweethearts purchased something for them." He wiped down the glass case as he spoke, "Most women get their hopes up and drive a man crazy, then they get a ring when they least expect it." He added, "You are here for a ring, am I correct?"

"Yes," Erik choked out. Just a few days ago he was imagining what it would be like to be standing right where he was, purchasing an engagement band. But his fear and doubt was starting to get the better of him. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe he should wait. Maybe he was deluding himself and seeing too much into everything.

"You don't sound too sure of yourself. Are you afraid she won't say yes?" he asked.

Erik shook his head yes, unable to put a voice to his fears.

"Well, that's nothing that a little 'bribery' can't handle to butter her up," he said as he winked at Erik and gestured towards a case of necklaces.

Christine pulled her cloak around her shoulders. It was colder today than it had been all week, and although there wasn't any wind, she could see a dark bloom of clouds on the horizon. She had stopped once or twice to rest her feet but other than that, she made good time to the cemetery. A stranger had offered her a ride in the back of his wagon that was filled with hay, but the way he asked it made her cautiously but graciously refuse his offer. She did not think he meant to give her a lift to her destination.

When she reached the cemetery she made her way through the standing headstones to where her fathers' lay. She brushed back the dead leaves and twigs from the base of his headstone and curled up against the side of it. A tear slowly trickled down her face as she remembered her father. She was no longer hysterically upset by his death how she used to be, but being here where they buried him years ago cut fresh the wound. She had felt so alone until Erik came along under the guise of her Angel of Music. That had been the last fantastical childhood hope from her father. It had come years after she learned that fairies and goblins were not real, when he was on his deathbed. He had ensured her that the Angel of Music was real and he would send him to her to teach her to sing when he could no longer be there.

"Oh Father," she cried. "Did you really send me the Angel of Music? Did you send me Erik? He is the closest thing to the Angel of Music that I've ever known and he is real. He's not some made-up fairytale like the other stories you used to tell." She drew her knees up under her chin and hugged them to her. "But what about Raoul?" she asked aloud. "It was always your wish that I marry well and you wished that should Raoul ever re-enter my life after your death that I must encourage his advances if he was so inclined to." She wiped her face on her skirt, "Oh Papa, I'm so confused. Nothing is simple anymore and the further I go along, the deeper I seem to fall into this tangle."

She sat there for a great long time, not getting answers to any of her questions from the silent grave of her passed father. She decided she had better head back before it got very late. She did not wish to be walking on the road home, alone and in the dark. As she stood to leave, she heard the ominous rumble of thunder in the distance and it was heading toward her.