Hey, I know it's been a while and I'm sorry for that. I'm not even sure it's very good, but frankly I'm sick of working on this chapter and I want to move on with the story, so I'm just putting this up as a final product. I'd like to dedicate this to MacKenzie as always and I'd like to give special thanks to Erika again for helping me to fine tune this chapter. She was the one who let me vent to her and rant endlessly about fanfiction (yeah, so what? I have nothing better to talk about!) and helping me with the process. I hope you guys like it, and if you dont please tell me, because I'll take this off if it is no good and rewrite the chapter, though it will be the same content, only written differently and I wont change anything that I put into it. So there will be less surprise if I rewrite it, but hey, whatever. SO here's the new chapter! I do not own Phantom of the Opera.

-H.E.

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February Eleventh, Two in the afternoon

Erik fiddled with his bowtie and smoothed the faint creases in his tuxedo coat. He had never meant to appear so publicly as this, and he would be just beside the center of attention for a little while. Therefore, he needed to look his best so that Christine would look good, and also to look good for Christine. However much this was hurting him, he did love her, and he wanted her to be happy on her wedding day. She was likely uncomfortable with all the aristocratic bodies in the audience, for Erik felt that there would be many, and she would probably feel as though she was performing again. How terrible it must be for her. What was supposed to be the happiest day of her life was going to feel like a performance to her. Erik felt the need to make her as comfortable as possible for this event, and she needed to see a familiar face, or mask, in the crowd.

He was wearing his finest mask, indeed the mask he had made so that nobody would look twice at him if he were to walk in the street. Yes, he could pass as a normal person walking among normal people, attending a wedding as normal people do. Participating in a wedding as normal people do. Erik sighed, the familiar pain in his chest making itself known again. He had become accustomed to it, but pain was pain, and it still hurt.

"Erik?" the voice of the Daroga called from across te lake. He had been invited to the wedding by Christine and the Viscount, and Erik had decided it best to appear with the Daroga at his side if only for a moment. He felt very human, needing security. The Daroga was often sneaking about his house anyhow, and he thought it only reasonable to ask him to meet him for the wedding, as they would both be attending.

"I am here," Erik announced, as though it were unknown. "Do come in, Daroga."

Erik was well aware that the Daroga knew how to operate his trapdoors. He had taught him how to do it. It was very annoying at times, but in this very special and rare situation, it was very convenient that the Daroga could let himself in. Erik heard the trapdoor open and was aware of the man walking towards him.

"Good afternoon, Erik," the Daroga dipped his head in greeting.

"Good afternoon, Daroga," Erik nodded in return.

A silence passed that was very odd for the both of them. This was the first time that they had met peacefully in a very long time.

"How are you feeling?" the Persian dared to speak. He knew this was all incredibly difficult for the masked man, no matter how well he concealed it.

Erik blinked. He did not know how to respond to such a question. Nobody had ever been concerned about his feelings before, and he had never had to answer questions regarding them.

"I do not know," he answered truthfully. "I admit that I was...unprepared to do this before. But now I feel I can proceed."

The Persian nodded. It was very much like Erik to find a solution to whatever problem he faced. He was a very strong individual in that area. Indeed he was a strong individual in most every area. But he had been inexperienced in the ways of love, and it had been his demise. He was glad to feel the way he did for Erik. No matter how monsterous a man Erik was, he was still a man, and every man needed a companion.

"Daroga?" Erik asked, his voice flustered and timid all at once. "Do I look...how do I...is there anything..."

The Persian watched and listened as Erik struggled to find words to voice his question. He constantly adjusted his bowtie or brushed non-existant dust off his shoulders. A smile played at the corners of the Persians lips.

"Erik," he spoke reasuringly, hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder. "You look fit for a wedding."

Erik looked at the Daroga. He had never felt as though he'd ever had a friend in the world. But if he ever had, it had been the Daroga. He had saved his life, and he was here now, even after all the threats and harm he had done. When all this was over, he would miss the Daroga.

"Thank you, Daroga," Erik sighed. The Daroga made a move to remove his hand from Erik's shoulder, but Erik held it firmly in place.

The Persian did not protest. Erik needed him for this. He gently squeezed the thin shoulder beneath his hand, lending all the support he could to Erik. He smiled slightly, trying to make Erik understand that he would never be alone.

"Come along," the Persian reluctantly ended the moment, taking his hand away from Erik's shoulder. " We must not be late."

Erik nodded and turned toward the door to his home, nerves entering his core. This was surely not happening, he was never nervous! It was really insignificant, but it irked him nonetheless. Shaking his head he left his house and began the short journey from the cellars.

Above the cellars, Christine Daae was preparing to be wed. She stood in her old dressing room, allowing women of differing ages to fawn over her and help in her preperations. She shook visibly, she was so overcome with nerves. She had wanted a small, private ceremony, just with her and Raoul. However, once word had spread about their engagement and wedding, the whole aristocratic community was sure to attend. She might not have been so anxious if her thoughts would have left her alone. She could not help but think that she was making a mistake in doing this. Ever since Erik had agreed to give her away, she had been unable to think of anything but his feelings for her, and how much she was hurting him. This had made her unsure of her own feelings for Raoul. She knew that she loved him, but how did she love him? As a brother, as a friend? Did she only love him because he knew her father? These were familiar thoughts that ran through her mind. She thought they would fade away as her wedding approached, but it seemed to Christine that they had only been made stronger.

Her thoughts wandered again to Erik. She wondered what he would be wearing, or if he would wear what he always wore. Would there be the same look in his eyes that she had always seen, the intensity in his gaze? Or would he be numb to the whole thing, showing no emotion, giving no indication of what was going on inside of him? She prayed fervently that he would be there when the time came. That he would not abandon her. She felt so alone in this situation, she needed him to be there. He had to come.

Christine snapped out of these toughts. She should be thinking of Raoul, her husband to be. There was an odd surge in her stomach at the words Raoul and Husband used together, as though she had made a grammatical error. Maybe this was a sign. Maybe Raoul was not who she was meant to be with. How horrible it would be to spend her life with a man she did not belong with. She definitely did not belong with him. She should have listened to the people who protested against their engagement. She was a common girl from the Opera, he was le Viscount de Chagny. It was just a childhood romance that neither one of them were willing to let go of. Christine thought all of these things, but pushed them away. She had commited to this, and she was not going to pull out now. It was likely just her nerves. This happened to everybody.

"Alright," an older woman adressed Christine. "You look wonderful, dearie. It's time to get you married."

Christine smiled at the word and a blush spread across her face. An image of Erik appeared in her mind. How would he think she looked? She quickly shook her head to rid the image from her mind. How would Raoul think she looked? But really she did not have a thought for what Raoul would think. Her mind could not stray from Erik.

She allowed herself to be escorted into the lobby of the Opera House. She did not look for Raoul, he would be on the stage, waiting as the groom was supposed to. But she did look all around the room for Erik.

Erik stood in a corner of the lobby, avoiding conversation. He had no desire to mingle with these people, and they were wary of him. The Daroga remained close, but was a bit more open with the various guests of the wedding. Just as Erik had suspected, aristocrats filled the theatre, awaiting the beggining of the wedding. He shook his head, pitying Christine. He reached into his coat pocket and removed his pocket watch to check the time. It read two forty-five. Now all the people in the lobby were people involved in the wedding. Ballet rats who had been selected as bridesmaids, a few others who would be in the procession, but Erik did not care. He only looked for Christine. It was certainly not the reunion Erik wanted, but seeing Christine would be worth all of this.

He scanned the room once again and gasped. Christine had entered the room.

Erik felt the familiar leap in his chest at seeing her. She looked absolutely stunning. Her hair flowed like a golden waterfall over her shoulders, though some of it had been pinned up in ornate clips and jewelry. She wore a white dress with sleeves that left her forearms bare, and exposed her collarbones. The dress fit her well, and it gently plumed out at her waist, making for an elegant, swanlike appearance. She wore no other jewelry than that in her hair, but she did not need adornments to make her look simply gorgeous. Eik felt his heartrate accelerate. He had to go to her.

Christine searched the room for the person she most wanted to see. But she could not see Erik anywhere. Her heart sank. He was not going to come. It would hurt him too much. Christine berated herself for expecting so much of him. She hated herself for even asking him. It had just gotten her hopes up and roused feelings she had never felt before. Feelings that she could have done without. She resigned herself to having to walk down the aisle alone.

Erik was captivated by Christine. He was filled with a childish delight at seeing her. It no longer mattered that she was about to marry the Viscount, for the moment she was his, for one could not give away something one did not posess. But Christine was not a posession. She was a human being. The most beautiful, talented, good hearted girl in the world. Erik felt his heart surge. He felt dizzy with happiness. He stood behind Christine now, and lightly touched her shoulder.

Christine turned around sharply and could not keep back the expression of joy that spread across her features. It was Erik. She knew it was. However, she could hardly tell he was masked, he had constructed the mask so well. He looked as normal as any other man. It was the immediate feeling that had emerged within her as she saw his tall, broad shouldered figure standing over her. That was how she knew who he was. She smiled up at him, making it obvious that she was happy to see him.

"Hello, Erik," she spoke softly. "I'm so glad you came."

"Christine," he shook his head and chuckled. "I would never break a promise to you."

Christine felt guilt crawl into her stomach. Her head sank and she studied the floor. She felt Erik's finger under her chin as he lifted her head back up. She looked into his golden eyes and she saw that they had changed. They were as intense as they had ever been, but there was a glint in them that there had'nt been before. A light that had always been shaded.

"You look beautiful, Christine," he whispered. His hand was still under her chin, and his face was inches from her own. He realized this and pulled away, removing his hand from her skin. She was dissapointed, but did her best to appear happy.

"You look quite dashing yourself," she returned the compliment. It was not a lie. He wore a very nice tuxedo, a bowtie, and polished black shoes. It was not so different from what she had seen him wear before, but it made all the difference in the world to Christine. Perhaps she was just so happy to see him, and it was just her mind that was different. Either way, she did think Erik looked very nice.

"It dosent matter how I look," he laughed. Christine had never heard him laugh out of humor before. It was a beautiful sound, much like his voice. "All eyes are going to be on the bride."

Christine felt the nerves rush back into her stomach. Being with Erik again had made her forget her troubles. But now she recalled why he was here. Her heart sank and her eyes moved to the floor once again. Tears pricked at her eyes.

"Christine!" Erik placed a hand on her cheek. "Please do not cry. This is a happy day for you! If I am ruining it, please tell me and I will remove myself. Please do not cry."

"No!" Christine gripped Erik's forearm. "Don't leave me! I won't cry! Please don't go!"

"Alright," he shushed her, trying to be comforting. "Look, Christine. I am here. I am going nowhere. I am here for you, Christine."

Christine nodded and released her hold on Erik's arm. She trembled, but was put at ease when she looked into Erik's eyes once more. They held all the care in the world, and she could get lost in them. Right now they spoke to her, letting her know that all would be well and that he would never leave when she needed him.

Erik blinked and the spell was broken. He reached up and wiped a stray tear off of Christine's cheek.

There was a sudden flurry of motion throughout the lobby as a wedding march began to play. Erik and Christine took their place in the procession and the people ahead of them began making their way into the theatre. Erik hooked his arm and Christine rested her hand on his forearm. They both emotionally prepared to take the march down the aisle.

Erik drew himself up to his full height and looked down at Christine. She looked up at him, her eyes deep blue lakes, and he was drowning in them. He was the happiest man alive right now. Nothing could ruin it.

Christine allowed herself to melt into Erik's eyes. They warmed her to her core, and she wanted to spend eternity in this bliss. No! This was her wedding! She was being married to Raoul! She could not feel this way about Erik!

The time came for Christine and Erik to take their slow, rythmic steps down to the stage. Christine felt as though she were being led by a rope to her death, and it took every ounce of her will to move one foot. Erik helped her along, she was undoubtedly nervous about the publicity. She did not deserve this in the least, and he would help her to get through it.

The walk was nearly unbearable for Christine. She saw Raoul smiling at her on the stage. She felt Erik's arm beneath her hand. Did she love Raoul? How could she not love him? Yes, she loved him. But what sort of love? Why hadn't she thought this through?

They came closer to the stage.

Why does Erik love me? Do I love him? No! I love Raoul! Do I? Yes, but how much? It is far too innocent to be true love. I love him as a brother or close friend. But it's too late for that now, I must marry him. Do I think that because he was my childhood friend? Will I spend my whole life never getting out of this safe shell? Thoughts swarmed in Christines mind as she and Erik moved closer to the stage.

Christine's grip was vicelike on Erik's arm. He patted her hand with his to try and provide support.

Christine felt her heart flutter as she felt Erik's hand on her own. This could not be happening!

They were now on the stage, and Christine now faced Erik.

Erik looked down at Christine. He took her delicate hands in his and held them to his chest.

Christine's heart pounded in her chest. She felt Erik's heart beat beneath his chest, as he was holding her hands to it. No! She could not let herself feel this way!

Erik lowered his own and Christines hands, presenting them to the awaiting Viscount. With a single nod of silent approval, Erik left the stage. He had played his part.

Christine's eyes followed Erik as he descended the temporary staircase that rose up to the stage. She watched as he took his seat next to the Persian on the second row. Now she felt truly and utterly alone. She would have to fight this battle herself.

The bishop began the ceremony, and Christine forced herself to look at Raoul. The man before her was an honest man, a good man, and had been a good companion to her. He was a good natured person, and he had no ill thought of anyone that Christine knew of, with the exception of Erik. But was she truly in love with him? Did she feel anything beyond a wonderful friendship with this man? She looked into his eyes, searching for something that was just not there. She was about to marry a man that she did not love. She did not truly love this man, and yet she was about to be united with him until death. Christine was horrified.

Erik watched Christine's face. She looked puzzled and frightened. Erik longed to embrace her and tell her that she had nothing to fear. But this was her wedding, and she was marrying the Viscount. Now she would be happy, and Erik would be the one that gave her this happiness.

Christine racked her brain for a solution, but came up with nothing. She prayed that Erik had a trick up his sleeve to get her out of this. But the wedding proceeded with no sign of interruption. Christine felt the eyes of the witnesses on her as the bishop spoke. Her mouth went dry and she had difficulty taking in air.

"Do you, Viscount Raoul de Chagny, take this woman, Christine Daae, to be your lawfully wedded wife?" the bishop asked.

"I do." Raoul stated, smiling at Christine. He squeezed her hands and she tried to smile back.

Erik watched in confusion as Christine uncertainly smiled at the Viscount.

Christine felt as though her heart would burst from her chest at any given moment. She hoped beyond hope that Erik would deliver her from this horrible situation. But no, he remained in his seat, watching the wedding along with everyone else.

"And do you, Christine Daae, take this man, Viscount Raoul de Chagny, to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the bishop turned to her.

Christine did not answer immediately as Raoul had. She felt the glaring of her audience, as though they had seen this performance before, and they were eagerly awaiting their star to say the lines that would bring the happy ending of the play. Christine looked to Erik, who nodded once more. But she could see through his actions into his heart, and he was in pain. She hated herself for inspiring such pain in him. She looked back at Raoul and desperately searched for something, anything in him that would make her love him truly and deeply. But it was not there.

She faced Raoul and uttered the two words that would change her world.

"I...can't."