A/N: I own none of these wonderful characters...just thought it might be fun to think that Leroux "interviewed" Christine later in life, or maybe found this letter when he was "researching" the history of the Opera Ghost. SO all credit to the paraphrased quote to Mr. Leroux. Onward...

Chapter 5

My Dearest Mama Valerius,

I am aware that my delay is inexcusable. A quickly sent wire to inform you that my wedding to Raoul was abruptly cancelled and I had left the de Chagny home was hardly appropriate, but I had no other choice. I know that you have raised me with so much more in the way of manners, yet the past week has so altered me that I find cohesive thought difficult at best.

Forgive me my ramblings, my Mama. If you had only been able to see the visions! (No I am not mad, not in the least!) The visions that brought me clarity, brought me awareness, brought me the belief that I must be true to my own heart, though it may lead me down a darker and more difficult path. Has it only been a week since I awoke? That a week ago it was the opening of my eyes saving me from the depths of hell...bringing me back to the blessed awareness of my cold bedchamber. But the echo was there...still resounding in my ears! No- not that last maniacal sob of my daughter as I fell into the depths...but the echo of my own admission.

I love Erik.

Who is Erik? He is the Opera Ghost.

Yes, the Opera Ghost is real my dear Mama. He really exists! He is not a creature of the imagination or superstition although he assumed the complete appearance of a real phantom! He is as flesh and blood as any man on God's earth, but his shadow is of a "spectral" shade.

Who is Erik? He is my Angel of Music, long promised by Papa. He is the voice of Heaven itself, with the ability to make the Blessed Virgin herself weep. He has made my voice the instrument of glory that has been noticed far beyond the walls of the Opera.

Who is Erik? He is the one who holds my heart, regardless of shortcomings and failings by us both.

There is only him...he owns me, a willing slave...there is only him.

I have so much to explain. So much to confess. I have to confess...

Where was I? My humblest apologies for my ramblings. As I said the past week has been tumultuous both in events and emotions...still I know it is no excuse for not relating what has occurred. You may not believe me, my dearest Mama, the events that led up to my decision. Most people would call it madness to terminate an engagement the day of the wedding, to leave with only the clothes upon her back, and the few coins in her possession. But I did it...and I am not mad.

I left Raoul standing there in the foyer utterly dumbfounded. He could not understand how I had learned that I was originally intended to only be a mistress. Perhaps he can now go to Italy as he wanted, it is not my concern any longer. My goal was to find Erik.

I hope it is obvious since I am writing to you now that I have found him, but this reunion...I cannot say what I expected, but simply tell you what has happened.
I will not rewrite the details of the reasons that made me leave Raoul...you would surely think me insane if I told you those. There have been moments that I have wondered if it was all real, or a product of my own desperate heart, which seemed to know far better than my mind what I truly wanted.

Wanted.

It is a wonderful thing to be wanted, to be treasured above anyone and anything. That is all Erik ever wanted, you know, all any of us ever want. To share with, believe in, hold and love someone who does the same for you. That I nearly condemned myself to a living hell is almost beyond my belief, for how can you exist without that...knowing it was once within your reach?.

I am rambling again aren't I? Truthfully if you can read any of this and understand my meanderings than you truly know me well. Well, I promised details of my journey in the wire and now you shall have them.

I left the de Chagny house, my clothes hastily donned and hair in utter disarray. I had no desire to stay there one moment longer, and not because I knew what Raoul had intended me to become but because my heart was seven floors below the Opera and I could bear the separation no longer.

I may sound sure of myself as I write this, but truthfully I had no idea if Erik was still there. I had heard reports of course, that they had found his home after Raoul and I fled, but no trace of the "ghost" who had occupied i was discovered. Would he have stayed there in his formerly beloved opera, or made an attempt to escape the Populaire, Paris, and all the horrid memories contained within? I would not have blamed Erik for wanting to do the latter, but I had no other choice but to hope that he was still there, and still alive, within the damaged marble and mortar.

The journey across Paris takes much longer when you are no longer in the accoutrements of the aristocracy. I walked a good portion of the way, few carriages believing that I carried any coin of worth. Here I was not the celebrated ingenue of the Opera, nor the fiancee of a son belonging to one of the oldest surviving aristocratic families in France.

No. Here I was another common woman, disheveled and unchaperoned. I can assure you, my bravery was want to wane as I traveled as quickly as possible through the less desirable areas of the city. Perhaps there were angels watching over my passage, knowing the desperation in my journey. For whatever reason I finally reached the steps of the once beautiful Opera Populaire.

I had not seen this place since the night Raoul and I fled, but even then we had left through the side entrance. This was the first time I had seen the damage caused by the fire. It, the fire I refer to, is perhaps as much my fault as Erik's. Would he have done this if I had not unmasked him before everyone? Would we have simply made an escape together if I had been able to tell him the truth that night on the stage as he bared his soul to me? It is to late for these answers, but I beg forgiveness as well for my lack in judgement. Perhaps the rebuilt Opera (for I did see the signs of the contractors hired to renovate) can heal this past wound.

I walked around to the same side entrance that I had left by, unwilling to journey through the foyer and its lingering memories of the Masquerade. I have even examined that event numerous times. I should have seen it so much sooner, for if I had truly loved Raoul why would I want to return to the Opera? The answer is so simple now, and it is the same reason I returned to this place.

So many months, so much time...yet I was sure that I could remember the paths down below. The dressing room mirror was broken, the exposed passageway covered with boards, as though a few pieces of lumber could have stopped Erik from doing anything. I found it almost amusing...almost...that someone had taken the time to write a curse against the Opera Ghost. I looked around the messy room in an attempt to find anything to dislodge them, succeeding as a I wielded a candelabra with what I thought was an impressive show of strength.

The damp air flowed freely as I pulled the last barrier away and stepped into the passage. It had not changed- dank, moldy, and cobwebs everywhere. The twists and turns were much harder to navigate without his presence, but in having nowhere to turn back to one is sometimes forced to journey into the darkness. I had no candle, torch, or lantern to illuminate my way, my hands glided along the stone walls as I strained my ears for the sound of lapping water signaling that I had finally reached the lake

My lack of vision extended to the dilemma I now found myself in, for I having safely reached the lake I now had no means or ways by which to cross it. I felt blindly around in the dark, hoping that perhaps the boat had been docked here, yet knowing if that were the case it meant in all probability that Erik was gone from this place. My search became frantic, a sob escaped as my hands found only empty air upon the shore. I could not...would not give up.

My next sob was silenced as the cold leather covered my mouth, the heat from the skin encased within burning against my lips. The voice, still a dark sinister velvet, hissed against my ear, "What the hell are you doing here, Madame?"

TBC