Chapter One

The Return Home

Raoul stared up at the painting that hung on the wall of his well lavished home. He sat in a chair with his boot-clad foot resting on the edge of a near by table. His thumb and forefinger rested on his chin as he stared up at the oil painting with curious eyes.

The painting was of him and Christine, an engagement present of sorts. Both of them looked like royalty, but neither had smiled at such a prospect. He studied Christine's angelic face and then his own more masculine face. It had been two years since the incidents that led up to their escape from the Opera Ghost.

Much had happened in that time, many things had been brought up, most of which had to do with Christine and her rather humble origins. She was not an aristocrat, she was the daughter of a musician, an artist known all around the world, and in turn she had become an artist herself.

Not many people looked fondly upon this union, but then again not many people had a say in the matter. Questions however, still flowed through Raoul's mind. His eyes were puffy and his nose was pink from being rubbed raw by a handkerchief.

It had been a cruel last three days; his heart was aching like nothing he had ever felt before. Christine was gone, and Raoul was in no position to bring her back. It had started only six months into their marriage. Raoul's family and his family's advisers, of which were mostly lawyers and other bland people had pushed for Raoul to reproduce. He needed and heir, preferably a boy, one of the many people had croaked.

Christine was all too happy to put her singing career on hold to try and be a good wife, she smiled and patted her tummy singing softly to the small bulge that had eventually began to form. All was calm while the entire Changey family watched and waited.

That is when things had started to take a turn, for late one night Christine cried out in pain. Raoul rushed to her side and pulled the covers back only to discover that Christine's blood had soaked the sheets.

It took hours to bring her back from the edge of death and at the end of it all she wished they had let her die; she had lost her child. Raoul had been more fearful and worried for Christine then that of his stillborn babe that Christine had wept over.

Though Raoul and the doctors were aware that stillborn children were common and not unheard of, Christine had taken it rather hard. She stopped eating, she stopped singing, and life ceased to exist for her.

In her sorrow for her child she had forgotten that she needed to take care of herself. The doctors had warned Raoul of trying to conceive another child; it could kill Christine and the baby.

This fact did not please anyone in the Changey family. While Raoul had been content to spend the rest of his life with just Christine by his side he knew he would need an heir. Over the course of the next two years they had tried, much to Christine's hesitation and Raoul's nerves. In that two years time they were not able to conceive a child.

And over the course of those two years Christine had drifted from him, her once rosy and youthful skin had turned pale; her once glowing eyes had turned dim and lifeless. She rarely talked and had allowed her forms of communication to melt into nothing more then a nod of her head for yes or a shake of her head for no.

Christine's sobs as she lay in bed at night had kept Raoul awake but as much as he tried, his arms and warmth seemed to offer no comfort to her. She was a walking phantom, thinner then he had ever seen her, paler then a ghost, her hair hanging in thick un-brushed locks.

Raoul had begged her to eat, begged her to sing, he had begged her to do anything other than lament. She had lost that first child over two years ago… she was not to mourn the loss anymore. His fear of her wasting away was growing worse and worse, and he felt powerless towards negating her sorrow.

To this Christine and looked up and stared into his eyes, "What good is a wife with a cursed womb?" Her voice had been raspy, for she had not used it in months.

What could Raoul say to that? What could he do to comfort a broken heart such as this? All his love, all his effort went into keeping her alive and now he sat in his chair staring at the painting of his once beautiful Christine.

The question that had been plaguing his mind could probably be answered by the letter he held in his other hand. He had not yet read it, though he had held claim to it for three days. His family that knew of the letter urged him to read it, to figure out where the girl, his wife, had gone to.

Raoul had promised that if she were not back in three days time he would read the letter. He would read it now, whether he was ready or not.

He opened the letter with shaky hands and as his eyes read the words he felt the tears start to slide down his face.

My Dearest Raoul,

If you are reading this letter you must know that I have taken no great pleasure in causing you so much pain over the last two years. I understand that losing a child is common; I know most women are lucky to even conceive. But I never imagined I would be one of the women to lose her child. And the pain alone of this loss has cursed me. I cannot escape the despair I feel over this issue no matter how hard I try. But I must be truthful; I have left you not just because of my loss of child, but also because of my loss of self. I haven't been able to sing Raoul, not like I used to. I thought my music could save me, I thought it could offer me a protective shell in which I could hide. But now I see I cannot hide from my utter despair, nor can I hide from you. I love you with all my heart, just as much as I did the first time you called me Little Lotte. But I cannot lie to you, upon the loss of my child I no longer feel like I can be a wife. You must have an heir Raoul, and it is obvious I am not the woman who can give you this. Even when we tried again and again nothing came of it. I can no longer provide for you what you need and I have so little to offer otherwise. I wish you the best of luck and I give you my blessing in all your future endeavors. Remember me as I was and not how I left you. May God lead you to a bright future; I wish you a long and happy life.

Sincerely,

Christine Daae.

Raoul stood from his chair and crossed to the window, he gazed out onto the grounds below him and felt a lone tear run down his face. His questions were all but answered save one.

A question he did not want to ask himself but knew that he would have, it was question that disturbed him. Even after everything that had transpired in the last two years Raoul still felt like he loved Christine. He would die for her, do anything to protect her, and the fact that she would just up and leave him like this made him feel a burning emotion that was uncommon to him.

But still the question plagued his mind and he knew he would have to face this question if he wanted any form of comfort from the events that had just occurred.

If Raoul really loved her, if he really cared and wanted to be with her… why then when he read this letter did he not go after her? Why was he standing here contemplating things, instead of jumping onto a horse and chasing her down to reassure her of his fierce Love. There was only two places she would dare go, one was the cottage by the sea but the weather was still to unpredictable at this time of year and her being in such a weak state would do little to encourage her to try to go that far away. The only other place would be to the Giry household. The woman had taken her in when she had lost her father. She would want the comfort of Madame Giry, perhaps this woman could convince Christine to come back.

Raoul turned quickly and moved to a near by desk, he started to write and spent the next few moments after finishing the letter to reread it over and over to make sure he had everything in it that he felt important. He rang the bell next to the door and a boy poked his head in, "Yes my Lord?"

"Take this message and bring it to a Madam Giry who lives in Paris. I don't care how long it takes you to find her. Do not return until you give it to her and do not entrust this letter to anyone but her. Do you understand?"

"Yes my Lord." The boy took the letter and then left Raoul to his room. It was empty and quiet; Raoul shivered and then strode back to the window. He glanced at her painting and then turned to stare back out of the window.

I didn't go after her because I don't need to. My angel will come back to me, after all, she chose me in the end. She will do it again, just as I would die for her, she will come back to me. It is inevitable. Our love is inevitable; it is as deep and as wide as the ocean.

Though he tried to reassure himself that she would return, he felt like there was more to this then Christine had told him. Come back to me Christine that is all I ask of you. Just come back to me soon.

Raoul stared out the window as rain started to splatter downward, the rain was on its way, to bring cold and wet screams on the wind. Raoul would spend tonight alone, and the next night and the night after that. As long as he must to feel her in his arms again, he would wait and he would never give up.

She was his everything, she was his sun and his moon and his mind and his soul… she was… his Little Lotte.

My Little Lotte… my angel.

Christine… A voice whispered in the darkness. Come to me Christine… come back to me my Angel of Music.

The darkness pulled at her cloak, she tried to scream but no sound came out. A child cried in the darkness as she searched high and low in the inky blackness. Christine… Christiiiine…. "NO! LEAVE ME BE!" Christine cried out in fear.

You fear me? I created you! I gave you the only real thing you have ever had! I gave you my music!

"I DON'T WANT IT!" Christine bellowed into the darkness. She felt the clutches of night pulling at her, she felt hands rubbing her, pulling at her, urging her forward, she had to resist, she had to escape the darkness.

A bump in the road stirred her from her sleep; she pulled her head away from the cold window of the carriage and looked to see where she was. Her eyes scanned the trees; she was not far from the outskirts of the city. Soon she would be in the city limits.

Paris. She thought longingly. Her home. The longest time she had ever lived in one place was there, in the city of Paris. She raised her thin frail hand and looked at her ring finger. The diamond stared back at her and her eyes filled with tears.

Had she made the right choice? She had longed to come home to Paris since the day she left. She had not given a second thought to it at first. When Raoul had taken her upon the Phantom's boat far across the lake, they had rushed far away from the Paris Opera House. Far away from the Phantom and his music, the music that had so often put her into a trance. The music that had filled her soul with flight and had caused her heart to soar, she ran from it for fear or her life, for fear of the darkness.

But oh how she missed the ballet, how she missed singing and performing, how she missed Meg and even to some strange and horrible degree how she missed Carlotta and all her cruel words and angry fits.

Christine watched as on the horizon the tops of buildings started to appear. Her heart beat faster; she was taking a rather large risk returning to this city. If HE was still residing here he was sure to learn she had returned. Would he seek her out? Would he come for her now that Raoul was not here to protect her?

Christine had learned much in her time away but she wasn't sure she could resist the music she had once lived for. It had consumed her, his voice, his music, and his kiss.

She shut her eyes and put her face in her hands, she wanted to cry but that just made her look weak. She was alone in the carriage but she couldn't help feel like someone was always watching.

Her lips suddenly burned and she felt ashamed of herself, she had kissed the Phantom in a desperate attempt to save Raoul. But that kiss had seared her memory. She could not forget his lips, his taste, and his scent.

Christine loved Raoul with a strength she had not know she could possess. But she had also, to some degree, loved the Phantom and she would never, and could never forget the way he had kissed her. A fiery passion that Christine had never before felt, nor had she ever felt it since.

She was confused, she had always been confused, and though her heart had told her to go with Raoul her soul had told her to disappear into the darkness with the Phantom. She didn't even know his name. She sneered at her own ignorance; she felt drawn to a man she didn't really know, a man that she had never really known.

What would await her now that she had not only ran away from the Phantom but the very man she would have given anything to save. Her heart grew so heavy she leaned back and put her hand to her chest. She was having trouble breathing properly.

Christine had managed to keep in contact with Meg, the girl had told her where she was now residing since the Opera house had been damaged beyond repair by the fire.

What had they been doing for the past two years now that the Opera Populair had been destroyed? Had they found another ballet? Were they still lucky enough to be able to perform? Only time would tell. Christine only hoped that her friend and the woman who had so selflessly taken her under her caring wing would allow her back into their lives after everything that had happened.

Christine waited for another hour as the carriage made it's way into the city, she waited for the carriage to stop and when it finally did she stared out the glossy window at the small house that she knew her friends to be in.

She took a deep breath and waited for the driver to open the door.

Meg rounded the street's corner holding tightly to the bag of goods she had just bought. There was not much but the three of them didn't need much. Erik hardly ate and between Meg and her mother, well, they just didn't need much food.

She had managed to get her hands on some fresh bread, two small fruits, a thing of meat and some fish. The surprise she held in the bag was at the bottom, which just so happened to be some freshly made candies. Her mother would not approve but occasionally when Meg felt sad or down the candies helped. Sporadically she would notice that pieces were missing which she did not eat. Since her mother was easily made ill by the sweets Meg could only assume that on the rare occasion Erik emerged from his room he must take a few.

Meg couldn't help but smile, in her entire life the Opera had been all she had known. The fact that the Phantom of the Opera might have enjoyed something like sweets had never occurred to her. She kept them for her and Erik as little treats when things seemed to be going wrong, or when there was more of a gloom then normal surrounding the house.

Meg rounded one last corner before she came to a stop. A carriage rested outside of her house, a woman stood at the door trying to peer through the window. She wasn't sure at first if it was a ghost or perhaps some sickly woman who had come to the door looking for charity. As Meg grew closer her slow footsteps began to increase in speed. By the time she was less then a street away she knew who was there waiting.

"Christine?" The girl called out in shock.

The woman on the step turned to look at her and the face that greeted Meg made her hesitate.

"Christine?" Meg asked again, this time more so from the shock of Christine's appearance then anything else. Christine looked like a walking corpse, a ghost in human clothes. Her smile was weak if you could even consider the crack her lips made a smile.

The blonde rushed up the steps in front of her house and dropped her bag of goods. She wrapped her arms around her friend only to get another surprise, her friend was not there. Christine was as thin as a post, not even enough meat on her bones to keep her gown in its proper place. She pulled back to look at her friends face, Christine spoke but Meg could not even believe that the voice that spoke was hers.

"Meg… I am so glad you are home. I am so glad you are here… I thought… I thought I might have had the wrong home. I feared you had misled me."

Meg put her hand on her friends arms, "I'd be a right sinner if I pulled a nasty trick like that. Quickly now, in with you before you catch your death." Meg managed to get the door open and then ushered Christine inside. She searched frantically about.

Meg was so happy to see her friend, but this was not the place Christine should be, not at all. If Erik found out she had returned… Meg couldn't bring herself to think about it. Meg needed to notify her mother, "Is that your carriage outside?" Meg asked.

"Yes… for now." Christine said cryptically.

"Would he fancy running a message for me to my mother? I think she would love to know you have come to visit."

Christine gave a much more genuine smile, "I am sure he would not mind at all. Write it quickly and give him this along with the directions."

Meg took the franc from Christine's thin fingers and then rushed to the kitchen. She must tell her mother, if Erik comes home to Christine… Meg pushed it from her mind.

She finished her note and rushed out to the driver and gave him the directions. The man nodded and off he went. Meg ran back inside and shut the door behind her. She quickly steered Christine away from the main room and into the kitchen.

"What are you doing here Christine? You know I am always happy to see you but I thought perhaps you would be with Raoul some place exotic. Why are you not touring, I thought you wanted to go over to the Americas."

Christine looked at her friend with a face that was slowly fading into sadness. "Oh Meg…" she started, her hand came to her mouth and she trembled, "Christine, you are shaking like a leaf… please tell me what is wrong."

Christine looked up at her friend and managed to stifle the cries that had been close to breaking through, Christine stared off into nothing then, her eyes were hollow and Meg felt a shiver run up her spine at the sight of her.

"I left him." Was all Christine managed to get out and then even that was almost inaudible.

Meg stared at the girl who she used to share everything with, the girl who had been such a promising star and suddenly wasn't sure this was the same girl who had been rescued by the strapping young Viscount those two or three years ago.

"Christine, you must tell me everything." Meg said taking her friends bony hand.

Christine looked relieved for a moment and then took a deep breath, she started her story and the more she spoke the more Meg knew that Erik could never know she was here. If he ever found out what had happened Meg wasn't sure what he would do. The most important thing to do would be to get Christine to a room in the house and keep her in it until they could find another place for her to stay.

But surely they could not keep her prisoner and surely they could not keep one a secret from the other. Meg did not know what to do, she would have to wait for her mother to return and hope she got home before Erik decided to show up.

Madam Giry reluctantly looked through the racks of the dusty costumes; it was hard to see since she only had candles to serve as her light. She stood next to the large table in the far back of the Opera Populaire. This had been her job for the last two years. Erik had offered to pay for food and other such things if she helped him to search the Opera for anything that he might wish to salvage.

The building was condemned, it was dangerous to be in here, after the fire no one had bothered to try and rebuild. Thieves and raids had cleared everything out and street urchins that needed to make a few extra francs. For the past two years at the request of Erik Madam Giry came here everyday and rummaged through the things that had been left over from the fire.

The first three months of this awful task had been held far down below in Erik's lair. Madam Giry was to search through the wreckage of his things. There were only certain things he truly wanted.

In the end Madam Giry had brought back most of his sketchbooks, all his musical notes he had made, and his architectural drafting's. She had also managed to find his music box with the monkey that played the cymbals. Erik had stressed the importance of this particular piece, and though it had taken a few hours of rummaging she had found it sitting perfectly out in the open in his personal chamber.

The only other things he had requested were his cloak, hat, clothes, and the rest of his masks. Everything else he had said could be remade. Madam Giry had then taken everything else and set it aflame in the center of the cave like domain. No one ever noticed the smoke.

Now Madam Giry had accompanied Erik to the Opera today with hopes that a musical instrument and a few musical sheets would remain. She had found the music sheets after only being in the theater a half hour, however finding a musical instrument that hadn't been damaged by the fire was near impossible.

She had waded through many halls, and rooms and such places but she found nothing. On her way back to the stage she had noticed a small black case wedged between a fallen beam and the wall. It took her awhile to dislodge it but she managed and quickly opened the case.

Inside was a violin, one that had very little damage. Erik could fix it in less then a week with the right tools. Madam Giry finally allowed a little smile to escape her lips. She closed the case and quickly relocated where she had left Erik.

This was one of the few occasions that Erik had actually come with her, he saw at a large drafting table searching vey slowly through pages upon pages of music.

"I have found something." She said approaching the man who was hunched over the piles of papers.

He said nothing as his eyes scanned the music lines slowly. He looked like he could hear every part in his mind even though he was only reading the Cello part. He held up a hand for her to wait and she quietly did so. A few moments later he crumbled something and tossed the paper to the floor.

"Let me see it." He said as Madame Giry came forward and set the leather box on the large table. He opened it and Madame Giry waited with anticipation. Erik's fingers slid over the instrument, plucked at a string and then looked at the broken neck.

"This will do." He said closing the lied, snapping the locks down tightly and gently handing the case back to Madame Giry.

"You may go home now if you like Nettie." He said returning to his original state.

Madame Giry bowed slightly and turned to go, "Take the back way out again, no need in arousing suspicion." Erik said in a tone that almost sounded like he was talking to himself.

Upon her way out she found a man waiting with a letter, he looked at her anxiously, as if he had been waiting awhile.

"Madame! Oh Madame!" The man called to her, she looked behind her to make sure he wasn't talking to someone other then her. But behind her was empty and no one moved in front of her. She grew tense but approached the man anyway.

"Yes Monsieur?" She asked trying to keep control of her voice.

"I was told by a young lady that I was to deliver this message to this location at this time to a woman fitting your description. Please, are you a Madame Giry?"

"I am Monsieur." She said watching his face fill with relief.

The man handed her a note and Madame Giry quickly set down the case and opened the note.

MAMA!

Christine is at the house, you must hurry and reach home before Erik! I do not know what to do!

Meg

Madame Giry looked to the man with wide eyes, "Do you have a carriage Monsieur?"

"Oui Madame."

"You will take me home. Now!" Madame Giry ordered with out waiting to listen to the man's flabbergasted muttering. She climbed into his carriage and motioned for him to hurry. The man reluctantly did what he was told and soon they were off. She was racing against time now. Who knew how close this was going to be. All Madame Giry could hope for was that Meg thought of an idea. If not, hell would be upon their house tonight.

Christine walked slowly through the house, she gazed about like she was in a dream. Everything seemed so old, so aged by time. The house was dark in general but with the dark wood that ran through it all she felt like she was in the belly of a monster. The house creaked and groaned as she moved about despite how slowly and light she walked.

"I have some candies if you would like some." Meg called from the kitchen. Christine glanced behind her only a moment to speak, "Yes. That would be grand." She called.

Upon entering the main sitting room Christine felt dizzy, it was like she had been in this house before. The darkness ate at her soul, and the cold chill in the air reminded her of a certain Phantom's lair.

"How long has your mother owned this house?" Christine asked.

"Since she was a girl, it was her families home." Meg said.

"I thought she came to Paris on her own to study with the ballet?" Christine replied as she still tried to adjust to using her voice again.

There was a brief silence and then Meg replied, "Right but her family eventually moved here after she was accepted into the company."

Christine did not reply to this, in fact most would think she hadn't even heard the comment, for at that moment her eyes had grown wide, her mouth had dropped open and she had frozen like a snake in the grass.

On the mantle piece, staring back at her with cold angry eyes was a monkey in a turban, with little gold cymbals resting in his hands. His teeth were bared into a smile that could have been attractive if Christine didn't feel like the eyes screamed rage towards her.

The red vest was like blood on his fur and his cymbals like round slicing knives.

Christine could not look away from the ugly thing, with out truly understanding how she had moved she was before it and she reached up and her finger gently touched one of the cymbals. The monkey started to play an eerie tune and Christine felt herself grow dizzy.

"Masquerade." She whispered in a shaky voice. She could hear his voice singing into her ear, she could see the image of him staring at the monkey while it played. She saw herself crossing to him and handing him the ring.

"Christine I love you." He had sung it so softly that it was almost like a whisper.

"You alone can make my song take flight. It's over now the music of the night."

"Its over…" Christine whispered to herself as she felt a shiver run up her spine. A hand came to rest softly on her shoulder and she jumped as she spun around. Her heart was in her throat. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw it was Meg.

Her eyes strayed to the monkey and Christine moved away from it, "Mother found it in the wreckage. She brought it home and placed it there… I am not sure why." Meg said.

Christine felt like there was something Meg was not telling her, but she did dig into it. Anything that had to do with that man made Christine cringe and not just because he had come so very close to destroying everything Christine had lived for. But because she had made a choice and it hadn't been him. She hated to admit it to herself but there had been many an occasion she had wondered what her life would have been like had she allowed her self to disappear into the phantom's dark embrace.

She pushed the thought away for she knew thoughts like that would only take her down the wrong path. The Phantom, nothing more then a cruel man, had taught her much, but he had never truly explained why he was so obsessed with her voice.

He claimed to love her, but when had that occurred? He had never spoken of love to her before. Not until Raoul came forward and made advances did the Phantom ever tighten his grip so strongly.

For the first two or three months after she had left with Raoul Christine had held fear, she did not do many things for fear the Angel of Music would punish her for her misbehavior.

Only after several months of reassurance from Raoul did she relax enough to go out on the town at night, to have a small sip of Champaign, to speak to other men openly. She did not go to bed early anymore, she did not watch what she ate, she did not practice her singing as often as she should have and she did not really focus on her posture or the position of her jaw.

She admitted that she had grown talented because of her teacher, but she had also been put through rigorous training under his hand. Some nights he would keep her up till the next morning making her practice a scale or aria over and over. Sometimes she would lose her voice all together and have to drink hot water and lemon, a drink she despised with a passion.

And then the times she was late to ballet rehearsal because of the Phantom and his tedious perfectionism. But even though Christine had hated the training she had become one of the most talented singers in all of France.

"Christine?" Meg's soft voice pulled her from the thoughts she had been thinking and she looked at her friend with a small smile. "May I rest until your mother returns?"

Meg sighed in relief, "I will show you the way."

Christine followed Meg down the hall, she looked up through the wooden railing and spoke, "Do you and your mother reside upstairs?"

"Mother and I share a room. The floor is not safe up there. We never go up there for fear of falling through the floor."

Christine found that odd but didn't question her friend, when they reached the back of the house Christine found that the temperature had raised to a comfortable degree.

"There are two fire places back here, we use most of the wood we get to keep them burning. The main room and kitchen are freezing but you will be warm when you sleep and that is what counts."

Christine nodded and when they finally reached the very end of the hall Meg motioned to her right. "This will be your room. If you need anything please let me know." Christine nodded and started to walk in before Meg gently touched her arm, "Please get some rest." Christine smiled and entered the room, she shut the door behind her and Meg instantly rushed away.

She grabbed a key from the kitchen and rushed up stairs, when she reached the top she moved as lightly as she could to keep the floor from creaking. She reached Erik's door and locked it, she waited a moment and then turned and headed back downstairs.