AUTHORS NOTE

Here is the second instalment. Again, this is my first attempt at a creative Phantom piece, so please bear with me. I am very grateful for any feedback and advice you have to offer.

In regards to the characters and events, as much as it is lovely to be all-encompassing when discussing thoughts and feelings, if I were to touch upon the hundreds of issues that make up the complex characters that are Erik and Christine, we would never get to any action. So therefore, whilst this will not be a thoughtless piece, and I am aware that the 'real' Erik and Christine may not have made these conclusions or decisions in such a short period of time, for the story's sake, I'd like to believe the majority of decisions are understandable in the present circumstances.

Also, italics are character thoughts.

Giving her one last prompt to retreat above ground, Erik sighed, "Christine, by now they would have surely discovered your absence. You must return back to the light, where you belong."

But Christine was adamant that the man who hid behind his music must hide no longer, he must be given the chance to live a full life. A life of warmth and compassion, and yes, love if that came in time. His music was beautiful, his voice angelic, but his soul had become as black as coal. How was a child to make a man of himself when he was treated no better than a wild dog, the Devil's Child?

Erik knew Christine was the key to his happiness. When in her presence, he cast his own personal battles aside and concentrated on exuding beauty for her. It breathed goodness into his soul, offered him a chance at redemption. If only he could earn her love.

I need your help, Angel, help me, they both silently prayed.

"What is your name, Angel?" Christine continued to stare into his beautiful eyes. Such sadness, such despair.

"Erik," he breathed.

"I feel as though I should fear you, and yet I do not," Christine whispered. "E-erik," she added, feeling his name strange and foreign on her lips.

The moment was broken and Erik returned to his matter-of-fact manner of speaking. "Ah, but you should, Christine. I am no angel, and I was selfish to fool you and bring you down here after all these years. I let the façade go on for far too long."

"But that is what I needed, Angel." Christine, still on her knees edged a little closer to him.

"You never needed someone to fool you, lie to you; to make a mockery of your kind, gentle father. It was a crime against his good spirit, not fit for the likes of me."

"I needed my angel then, as I still do now," Christine reassured him. As much as what he said was partly true, she believed that in his heart, her welfare was his primary concern. Her Angel had proven that to her time and time again.

"You are to be the new prima donna, Christine. You will have all you dreamed of: a comfortable lifestyle, a successful, rewarding career that will surely take you abroad should you choose it. You will have your music, and you will have your beau."

Christine could not ignore the harsh way he referred to Raoul. Erik disentangled himself from Christine and rose to retreat to his organ, walking painstakingly rigid across the room.

"You must think little of me if you believe that, Monsieur," Christine said coldly.

"I think practically, Christine, and I fail to see how you could find any comfort in my presence any longer," he bit back. "I am not your father, nor your angel, I am a man. A disfigured monster who has killed."

He saw the shocked look on her face and continued, driven by his rising temper. "Yes, I have killed. A young and innocent woman like yourself should not be communicating with the likes of me. I cannot take back what I have done. I did it to survive. After years of living in the cold, Christine, you cannot get rid of the deathly chill. All that I apologise for is taking advantage of your innocence, that which I will not do any longer." His rambling came out in one rather large breath, and even his masterful lungs were pleading for air.

"And I don't want your pity," he spat.

His fiery eyes burned into hers. She felt ill at the sight of his disgust and feeling of utter self-loathing and hate. What was she to say in response? He brought her down here, he offered to take her back. She refused. And now she felt sick to the stomach by the way he spoke about himself. She could get used to his deformity, but not his foul temper. At this very moment the man seemed incapable of love. What a piece of work he was, she thought. And she really didn't know what to do next.

"I need some air, Erik, take me somewhere outdoors."