I looked up. The chandelier was swinging madly, flickering on and off, casting wild shadows around the Opera House. As I stared at it, it lurched and began to fall. I could see the light reflecting off the crystals in an explosion of rainbows. I was right under it and it was going to land on me, crush me, but I could not move. I was frozen and it was coming closer…

I awoke, screaming. My heart was racing and I was drenched in sweat. A second later there was a tentative knock on the door. A moment later the door opened and a dark-haired maid rushed in and lit the lamp on my bedside table.

"Miss, are you all right?" she asked.

"I am fine, everything is fine," I said, embarrassed. I tried to force a smile but was unable to. The maid stared at me, surely thinking me mad, but I did not care. She gave a little curtsy and left, shutting the door behind her.

I stood and walked to the window and sat down at the window seat. It was raining again, a dull gray drizzle that never seemed to stop. London was a wonderful place in its own right, but I missed France, I missed the Opera. Nearly three months had passed since the fiasco at the Opera House, and yet I still woke to nightmares almost every night.

Sometimes, in the dark of night after I awoke from a nightmare I would think of Erik, and I could practically hear his voice in my mind, that beautiful, entrancing voice.

Four long months I had been with Raoul in London, staying in his guesthouse. For the first month I refused to leave my room. I mourned the loss of my Angel of Music and the closeness we had shared while he had tutored me. I also greatly missed Erik, the man behind the Angel, though I thought it insane that I could miss him, a murderer! I found myself longing to see him, to speak to him once more, though I knew it was crazy. The man was mad, he had killed Josef Buquet and who knew how many more he had killed, if that chandelier had fallen on any of the audience members

Raoul was unfailingly patient with me. No matter how often I cried, he was always there to hold me. Though I never let him know that in part I was crying for Erik…my fallen Angel.

My emotions were no less jumbled than they had been that night on the roof of the Opera House. I had gone over the events of my time with Erik a thousand times, but I was no closer to understanding how I felt for him than I had been to begin with.

I soon tired of staying in my room and began to venture out. Raoul was sweet, charming. He brought me flowers and took me to fancy restaurants. We never spoke of that night, or of Erik. We spoke mostly of the past, our happy childhoods and such trivial matters. I think Raoul assumed that because I was with him, in London, that my thoughts weren't in Paris, with Erik. I soon had even myself believing that I was happy and had forgotten what had happened. We spent another two months in a whirlwind of parties and balls and going to the theater. I thought I was happy, I thought I could make myself be happy with Raoul in London. But the longer I was away from the Opera, the unhappier I became, though Raoul did not seem to notice.

Before long Raoul was pressing me to get engaged. I had begun to feel as if I was living in a dream. It seemed everything was foggy, unfocused. I agreed to get engaged, though I cannot exactly say how it happened. But there was Raoul kneeling in front of me with a diamond ring, proclaiming his love, and asking me to marry him. I must have said yes, though I barely remember, for he slipped the ring on my finger and joyfully announced our engagement to everyone he met.

Our lives were peaceful, quiet. Until just the day before, when a letter arrived from Messieurs Andre and Firmin. Raoul and I were eating breakfast in the formal dining room when the letter arrived. I ripped it open and for the first time in weeks I became excited. No one had died when the chandelier had crashed to the ground, an amazing thing considering that it weighed over a thousand pounds and how far it had fallen. The fire had been quickly controlled with only minor damage. I could not deny the feeling of relief, that Erik had not murdered anyone else.

The Opera House had closed for repairs, but the construction was done now, the new chandelier had been hung and there had not been a word from the Phantom since the night Raoul and I had left. They were currently preparing to audition for the many empty spots in the chorus, as many of the girls had refused to come back after the chandelier. According to Andre and Firmin the police had searched high and low to find the Phantom but had found no trace of him. I shivered, knowing that I could have shown them exactly where to find him in his house beside the underground lake. I had thought that they would never ask me back, but they did. They had a Masquerade Ball planned for October and expected me to be there. Rehearsals would start immediately for the next production, which they hoped to open by December.

"Raoul, they want me to come back!" I said, smiling and handing him the letter.

Raoul glanced over the letter and then looked up, glaring at me. "You cannot actually be planning to go back there!" he exclaimed.

I looked at him. "Of course I am planning to go back. You said we were going back to Paris this month," I said.

"Back to Paris, yes, but not back to the Opera House! Are you mad? After everything that has happened, you would actually think of going back there?"

"My life is there, Raoul. Singing is my life, the Opera is my home!" I protested.

Raoul stood up and threw his napkin on the table. "No, Christine, your home is with me, as is your life. That is what you agreed to when you agreed to marry me."

My jaw dropped. "I never said I was not going back to the Opera."

"I thought you would know better! My God, Christine, you would walk right back into the devil's lair?"

"Perhaps he is not there anymore," I said. "The letter says they have heard nothing of him since we left." I could not exactly explain why that failed to make me happy, either.

"And perhaps he is just waiting for you to come back, did you think of that?" Raoul shouted. "There are other Opera's, you can get a part somewhere else if it is that important to you."

"It is important to me, Raoul," I said, my voice shaking. "I have devoted my life to my career, I do not intend to give it up, and the Paris Opera House is the most prestigious Opera in France."

Raoul gave me a dark look. "We shall see, Christine," he said and turned and stalked out of the room.

I sighed as my thoughts came full circle. The sun was rising and the rain had stopped, leaving the day dull and gray. I felt as if my life were a carousel, constantly going in circles. I had not thought Raoul would act the way he had. I understood his concern, but I did not want to give up the career I had strived so hard for, and I felt a strange yearning to return to the Paris Opera House, despite all that had happened.

X

The carriage traveled quickly up the darkened streets of Paris. Raoul was in a temper. He was seated across from me and he refused to look at me. I had finally gotten my way, after nearly a month of arguing. We were back in Paris, and I was returning to the Opera. The Masquerade was in a month. I had contacted the managers, agreeing to return. There had still been no sign of the Phantom, and they were fully convinced he was either dead or had moved to another Opera House.

The thought gave me mixed feelings. I should have felt relieved, but a part of me was sorry to hear it.

When the carriage had picked us up from the train depot I had asked the driver to take us by the Opera House before it took me to my flat.

"'Ere we are, the Opera House," the driver said, stopping the carriage.

Without looking at Raoul I stepped out of the carriage and looked up at the magnificent Opera House. I felt a familiar thrill as I looked at it and was assaulted by a thousand memories. Erik, the mirror, the underground lake. I had been gone so long!

"Come, Christine," Raoul said from the carriage. "It is rather late."

I took a deep breath of familiar Paris air. It was good to be home.

Stepping back into the carriage, I tried in vain to ignore Raoul's glare.

"You truly are going to go back there, are you not?" It was a statement, not a question, but I answered anyway.

"Yes, I am. You already know that. What has happened has happened. The past is over with, Raoul," I said.

Raoul sighed. "The past is never over with, Christine, not as long as you dwell in it."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, irritated.

He shook his head. "We will be married soon, Christine. Then it will be time to let the past go."

My heart thudded painfully. In the excitement of returning to Paris, to the Opera, I had almost forgotten our engagement. I would be returning to the stage of the Paris Opera House, to Erik's stage. Had he really gone, or was he still there, waiting for me? I looked down at the diamond ring on my left hand. "Raoul, perhaps we shouldn't announce our engagement here, yet."

"Why not?" he demanded.

"I just…I think perhaps it would be better to keep it secret for now. Then, when the time is right, we can make our announcement."

Raoul stared at me incredulously as I took the ring off of my finger and hung it on the chain I wore around my neck.

"What are you hiding from, Christine? It is an engagement, not a crime," he said. His voice had a hard edge to it. "What are you afraid of?"

"Let us not argue anymore, Raoul, please?" I begged. "Please, just pretend to understand."

He sighed angrily. "I only hope I can learn to understand in time, Christine, because I certainly do not understand now."

The carriage pulled up in front of my flat. Raoul helped me carry my bags upstairs.

"Thank you, Raoul," I said, kissing his cheek.

"Oh, Christine. I love you," he said, pulling me into a hug.

I smiled. "And I love you, Raoul," I replied dutifully.

Raoul turned and went back to his carriage. I sighed and looked around my flat, which smelled musty and was covered in dust after having sat so long. Raoul had asked me to stay in his guesthouse when we returned to Paris, but I just wanted to be alone in my own home.

I lit the lamps and walked around the flat, happy to be in familiar surroundings. I ended up in front of the fireplace, standing before a violin on a stand that sat on the mantle. I ran my hands lovingly along the polished wood and felt the familiar pang that came whenever I thought of my father. I still missed him so.

I picked up the violin and sat down on the couch, holding it gently. I wished he were here, that I could talk to him about my confusion. He had been a friend, as well as a father, and I had never felt that close to anyone, before or since.

My thoughts went immediately to Erik, but I refused to think of him now. There would be plenty of time for that later, when I returned to the Opera House.