A/N: Nadir, though a Muslim due to his homeland, is not strict in it to say the least. He has led a troubled life- much like Erik- and has been 'forced' to find his own ways to deal with this. I don't really want to say too much about Nadir here- I'm hoping to have a later chapter describing at least some more of his background.

Thank you very much for the reviews and to those of you simply reading. And for the PM's- very kind.

I have around 12 chapters already written for this and am hoping to post four today and four a week. I hadn't written anything new to this for quite some time but on Friday I found myself ploughing through a new chapter.

Anyway, I'll continue. Reviews always appreciated.

Chapter 43- Perfect Year

Raoul's hand found Christine's in the crowd of people, everyone looking so happy and so ready to see in the new -year, that he almost felt a little left out. He held on tight, worried that if he let go for one second, then he would lose her. The thought was almost unbearable and he pushed it to the back of his mind. She had been so distant since he had asked her to be his wife. How could he have been such a fool? It was too soon, he had frightened her, and this hurt him more than anything.

Over Christmas she seemed to warm to the idea. Philippe had, for the first time, welcomed her openly into the family home. They had all exchanged gifts, his to Christine being a delicate gold pendent, she seemed to like it. Now, though, he knew she was scared, he simply could not understand why she did not want people know of the seriousness of their relationship.

He was in love with her. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops, tell the whole of Paris... the whole of the world. She was more subdued and he was determined to make her feel more comfortable.

When she had walked to her door in her masquerade costume for the New Years Eve ball, he had been taken aback by how stunning she looked. Not that she wasn't always beautiful, but that evening, there was something completely breathtaking about her. He wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms, kiss her lips.

All of which prohibited by the presence of their chaperone, still insistent on following them everywhere. He wanted to scream that they were engaged, that they were to be married, that they were madly in love.

'Are you alright?' He asked, as she let go of his hand and moved away from him slightly.

She nodded, eyes wide as she took in the Ball's decorations. 'It looks lovely in here,'

'A lot of effort went into this,' He smiled, moving closer to her. 'It's to signify the start of a brand new year, a better year...'

She looked up at him.

'A year without pain and tragedy,' He reached out and squeezed her hand. 'We should tell people of our engagement,'

'Raoul...'

'They will be happy for us, Christine,' He held her hand tightly. 'I'm so anxious that the world knows that we are together,'

'The world...' She murmured.

'Yes,'

She glanced at her feet. 'The world includes some people that I don't want to know about it,'

He sighed. 'Please, Christine, he is gone,'

'Does that mean he will never return?' She asked, walking away from him. He followed her, determined that she would see the bright of everything, instead of the dark. That night, six months ago, he had vowed to protect her and bring her away from the darkness... he would not let her down.

'If he does,' He said. 'And that's a big if... if he does, then I will be here to protect you, Christine,'

She smiled but Raoul could see that it was forced. 'I know you'll try,'

'Try?' He said, his heart falling. 'He is a man, Christine, not a real life monster. He is as beatable as any other man.'

'Raoul, do we have to talk about this right now?'

He looked at her face, her eyes had grown moist and her cheeks ashen. The sight of her upset was crushing to him but what else could he do? Somehow he had to make her see that this Phantom could not hurt her anymore and if he tried then Raoul would be there to protect her.

'I'm sorry,' He said. 'I know it's not the right time but... can't you just wear your ring?'

'I do,'

'On your finger,'

She stared at him. 'I explained this,'

'He can't hurt you anymore,'

'He has not hurt me before, Raoul,'

He blinked. 'Maybe not physically,'

'You don't understand him,'

'Do you?'

Her eyes turned cold. 'Yes,'

'Then why not tell the police about him?' He demanded, feeling anger and, oddly, a sense of hurt wash through him. 'Why did you protect him? If you know so much, if you understand him so well, why did you not allow the police to find him?'

'I did not know where he had gone,' Was her answer. 'He loved me, I hurt him, he hurt others...'

'Which is wrong!'

'I never said that it wasn't,' Her voice was strangely calm, almost a monotone as she spoke. There was no doubt in Raoul's mind that Christine was afraid of this ghost but maybe he had misjudged her reasons or maybe he had only heard what he wanted to hear.

He reached out and took her hands in his again. 'I'm sorry,'

'Its fine,' she said. 'Really,'

'I don't mean to upset you, I just want to be with you,'

She smiled at him. 'You are with me,'

'Is it so wrong to want people to know about that?' He managed a smile. 'That the most beautiful woman in the world is with me, in love with me?'

'No,'

'I know you're afraid,'

'I'm afraid for your safety more than mine,'

'I see that now,'

'He hates you,'

The comment made Raoul's smile broaden. 'I'm not particularly fond of him either,'

They walked through the large wooden doors and the lobby opened out, the staircase spread itself magnificently, as if it was all around them, and the decorations hung with a sort of elegance. People walked around, some danced, all in bright colours and extravagant masks. Gently, Christine touched his arm, and he felt the warm sensation he always did when she was near him. She moved away from him and they walked in together, but apart.

The masquerade, the new-year, looked to be a success.

Richard did not smile often and when he did, it often looked forced, as if someone were holding a pistol to his head making him do it. Gilles was walking towards him, noting the actual, genuine looking smile that had suddenly appeared on his friend's face. The room was truly beautiful and everyone had played their parts to perfection. Gilles has opted for quite a plain costume and simple mask but Richard, to his amazement, was dressed in bright red and yellow, with a very... interesting mask resting on his forehead.

'I pulled it off so that you could find me,' Richard commented as Gilles approached. 'I know you wouldn't recognise the attire,'

His friend actually twirled.

'You look...'

'Good, eh?' Richard grinned.

'Have you been drinking already?'

The other man frowned, but only for a brief moment, before laughing and clapping Gilles firmly on the back. 'No, I'm high on the spirit of life!'

'Well, it certainly looks good in here, doesn't it?' Gilles said as he looked around him.

'Bloody amazing,'

'Party of the century, I think,' Gilles continued. 'Stroke of genius to invite some of the people from... er... that night,'

'I thought so,'

'They all look to be having a wonderful time,' Gilles grabbed a glass of champagne from the waitress walking past. 'I expect it will be a late night,'

Richard pulled the mask down over his face. 'I'm going to chat to some ladies,'

Gilles lifted his glass, 'To a prosperous year then, my friend,'

'To the new chandelier,'

They clinked glassed and went their separate ways. When Gilles reached the bottom of the stairs he was greeted by a smiling Madame Giry and her husband. The male Giry was not exactly what Gilles had expected. The man was quiet and tall, one of those men he had always been a little weary of. Still, he seemed a pleasant enough chap.

'Good evening,' He held out his hand and Scott Giry took it, shaking it a little too cautiously. 'Are you having a good time?'

'Wonderful,' Scott answered, but he sounded guarded. 'Beautiful set up,'

'Isn't it?' Gilles beamed at the couple. 'Madame?'

Antoinette Giry looked at him, and then around the room. 'It is lovely,'

Woman of few words, as always.

'Won't you have a glass of champagne?' Gilles waved a waitress over to them.
'This is a celebration, after all,'

Scott held up his hand, smile on his face, politely declining to drink the champagne. 'Not for me, thank you,'

'For you?' He looked at Madame Giry.

She shook her head. 'I like to keep my wits about me,'

'No need,' He grinned. 'We are among friends, Madame,'

Her eyes drifted around the room, so cold was her gaze that Gilles felt a chill around him, then she set her eyes back up on him. Scott Giry slid a protective arm around her waist.

'It's a party,' Gilles was starting to feel nervous. 'What's wrong?'

Scott glanced down at his wife. 'She isn't feeling too well,'

'Its not that I'm ill,' She quickly corrected. 'I just have an awful feeling about tonight,'

'I'm not sure I understand,' Gilles said, confused.

'I wouldn't expect you to,' Came her response as she freed herself gently from her husband's grasp and walked away. Scott simply shrugged at him and followed her.

When Gilles saw Raoul and Philippe de Chagny chatting away happily he felt a lift in his spirits but he was still concerned by Madame Giry's demeanour. It was as if she knew something that the rest of them did not. His eyes scanned the room and he spotted Christine Daae, recognising her because of her soft, dark curls. Her costume was very good but did not really cover who she was. Perhaps young Miss Daae no longer wanted to be part of the back drop.

The music continued, the light hearted chatter drifted around him. He walked around and mingled with the crowd, introducing himself to potential new donators, and generally having a good time. He decided that, quite the contrary of Madame Giry's feelings, he had the feeling that it was going to be rather a pleasant new year. The crowd all got together as the clock above the room showed that midnight was closing in.

He could hardly believe just how many people were there.

They stood there and counted the seconds down until midnight arrived and that's when it happened. He felt a cool breeze tickle his back, sending his hairs prickling at the sensation. It was obvious that everyone else felt it too as they all look around them.

Someone gasped.

There, at the top of the stairs, was the look of death itself. A costume of red velvet and a skeleton mask. the silence in the room was almost suffocation, no one said anything, no one dared move an inch.

The man in the dressed as death stopped midway down the stairs and looked around him.

'Happy New Year,' The man spoke, the voice was chilling... and all too familiar.

No one responded, everyone stood completely still, staring up at him.

'Why so silent? You all look surprised,' He commented, taking another step down the stairs. Gilles felt his breath catch as he watched the man they knew as Phantom casually lean against the banister and look around him. 'Did you think that I had left you for good?'

Gilles swallowed as the man held out a bound document and then. 'I've written you an opera,'

The Phantom flung it to the floor and then took another step down. There was no rush to him, no fear to be seen, he looked completely at ease. It was obvious that no one in the room, no one at the ball, made the ghost even remotely nervous.

'It's called Don Juan Triumphant,' Another step down the stair case. 'My, how half a year flies by when you're having so much fun,'

Someone stepped forward, a young man in a dark costume, but one sharp look from the Phantom sent the poor boy scurrying back into the crowd.

'The score is finished,' He said, nodding down at the book lying on the floor. 'I expect you to comply, rehearsals to start immediately,'

He took another confident step down until he was on the bottom ledge of the staircase.

'I have written a list of strict instructions, they're very clear,' The death mask moved in a nod as he walked onto the floor, in the middle of the crowd. 'Remember...'

He looked straight at Gilles.

'There are worse things than a shattered chandelier,'

The room was still silent, the man, this Phantom, was standing amongst them, in the middle of them and not one person had the nerve to move. Gilles felt he barely had the courage to even breath. The mask moved again and the Phantom scanned the room until he found was he was looking for.

It was the strangest thing. Christine Daae stared at him, mesmerised, and stepped forward, towards him. Raoul was in the crowd trying to make his way through as the Phantom lifted his hand and beckoned to Christine.

She obeyed, stepping closer to him.

He reached out, traced his finger along her bare collarbone. Gilles saw that she was holding her breath, staring into his eyes, unable to move. The Phantom's finger stopped at the chain around her neck.

'Your chains are still mine,' He said, almost gently, but it didn't last. She blinked as he grabbed the chain and tore it from her throat. 'You will sing for me!'

Raoul and Philippe darted from the crowd in different directions but as they did the Phantom nodded his head at Gilles and then a cloud of smoke appeared, blinding them all. Raoul and Philippe fought their way through it from the sides but when they made it to the centre, when the smoke had cleared... the Phantom of Opera was gone.

A/N2: Oh and I'm surprised only one reviewer commented on the Leroux thing- must be losing my tough lol