A/N: I remember, when I entered the phandom, I was a mild R/C shipper… But now, I came to a point where I actually despise the Erik/Christine pairing. I mean, they are just so badly suited to each other, and I can't believe there are so many E/C shippers out there. Yes, I'm conscious that they shared a very strong bond in music, that Erik was a very important figure in Christine's childhood and teenage, and yes, Christine was fascinated by him and did feel lust for him, but it's pretty obvious that she didn't love him. I'm talking of the 2004 movie. Making an R/C fanvideo just proved it to me.

Christine is really a kind-hearted, sweet, weak-willed, sad little lost puppy kind of person, and though she's beautiful and talented, she doesn't have much of a personality… She annoys me sometimes. And Erik… well, he's Erik, aka The Living Explosion. I absolutely adore him, but he needs someone able to stand up to him. Raoul doesn't disserve AT ALL the hate he receives. To me, he's really the typical nice guy, sweet, kind, adorable, brave, kind of impulsive, but it just makes him even cuter… Seriously, I think people hate him simply because he's an obstacle, and a rather good one, to their idealized dark-romance story who will probably not last for very long in real life… Kind of like a certain young lady called Cosette Fauchelevent.

Chapter 2: No More Talk Of Darkness

Christine, accompanied by Raoul, had quickly rushed back to her dressing-room, where Mme Giry was waiting for her. The singer was at first afraid the ballet mistress would make some stern remark about her absence, since it was expected that she had to get ready for the representation. The public had been quite horrified by Buquet's murder, and wouldn't accept any delay or other mishap.

But thankfully, the circumstances, being here Buquet's murder by the Phantom, also known as the Angel of Music, element that Antoinette Giry was aware of a bit too well, and more especially, the way Raoul and Christine were looking at each other, took away every bit of sourness she had. Even, she couldn't retain a smile by seeing them together… It took away from her, for a moment, all fear she had of the Phantom's reaction, just seeing them smiling a bit shyly, caught in some sort of teenage embarrassment, but so full of hope… Yes, the Phantom's reaction wouldn't be pretty indeed, to talk delicately. But now, Christine seemingly had a chance to get out of the Opera Ghost's clutches. The vicomte represented not only a wonderful future husband, but also, a helping hand Mme Giry could never give to Christine. She was the Phantom's slave, and friend at the same time. Friend, for as much as you could be friends with him…

Without asking any questions, the ballet mistress quickly wrapped Christine's long, heavy and curly hair in a cloth, and placed the 18th century-styled wig on her head. She quickly added a bit of makeup, just enough so her features and expression would be visible, and, with a smile, she said softly: "All done. Go quick. They're all waiting for you."

With a grin, Christine thanked Mme Giry, and once again, took Raoul's hand, and got out of the dressing-room, towards the wings.

Everything was getting placed for the first act by the stagehands. Nervously, Christine looked around, afraid of seeing Buquet's corpse. But thankfully, it was nowhere to be seen. She sighed of relief, squeezing Raoul's hand a little more tightly.

"If you want…" Raoul proposed, "I could stay in the wings. I don't mind, really… And I'll see you better."

Christine smiled shyly. "I would appreciate that, thank you."

Without further ado, the new prima donna, her head high, thanks to the assurance Raoul's presence gave her, walked on the scene and sat on the bed, soon to be joined by a Carlotta dressed up as a pageboy, who glared at her like some Fury. But after all she had been through, Christine couldn't care less. As she closed the bed's curtains, the orchestra started to play again.

Sing, prima donna, once more.

The whole opera went well without any hitches. Christine sang and played the Countess with charm and appeal, as it was required for such a role, though with a certain endearing ingenuousness. When finally, it ended, she finally saw the end of the tunnel. In less than half an hour, she would be out of the Opera house, with Raoul…

The time of the final bow came. When Christine came back on scene, the applause became only louder, and many roses were even thrown on scene. She blushed candidly, bowed gracefully, and even dared to look towards Raoul. He was also clapping, a wide smile on his face. He's proud of his Little Lotte, thought Christine with delight.

But, even many years after that evening, Christine wondered if he was there at that very moment, observing her every move, even reading in her mind… Like if her glancing at Raoul with a smile was a mortal sin, worthy of being punished by sudden death, he had decided to take God's place for a while… A cry shattered Christine's tender ecstasy, and she looked up, like everyone… to see that a set was falling straight on her.

Everyone ran away, but Christine, like if she was hypnotized by Death's eyeless glare, obliging her to face her horrible fate, didn't move. At an incredible speed, a thousand thoughts invaded her mind all at the same time.

The Phantom wasn't just a man.

He was more than that.

He really was.

He wasn't just Angel.

He had taken the place of God, plunging His Creation into chaos, to satisfy his own purposes.

He had control on her life, on her soul…

Of all his schemes, she was the center of it.

Everything was converging to her.

Whoever betrayed him was doomed to die forever in Hell.

She was the master-piece.

She couldn't get out.

The whole universe would shatter.

Just like that set.

She hardly realized that suddenly, someone was dragging her away from scene, dragging her away from the eternal fire and darkness. Just in time, for if she stayed only a second longer, Christine Daaé would have been nothing more than a memory.

Even the loud crash of the set falling on the ground and shattering into pieces didn't seem to bring her back.

Finally, a voice was calling her. "Christine! Christine! Answer me, please!"

She came back to life, slowly lifted away from the eternal night where she was violently dragged. At last, she turned around, to see Raoul. He had saved her life. But not just by pulling her out of the scene. No. It was so much more than that.

But the distress she had faced was too much, too fresh in Christine's memory for her to describe it in words to Raoul. Instead, she simply hugged him frantically, whispering at his ear:

"Please… I'll just go and change and… let's leave. As soon as we can."

Christine felt Raoul's head nodding against her, as he stroked her hair gently. Like if she was a little china doll, this being more emphasized by her 18th century-style costume, he guided her gently by the hand, towards her dressing-room, where Madame Giry was waiting for her, and got out, but not before kissing Christine on the forehead, as if his kiss was going to be some sort of protection while he wasn't there.

It took no time for Mme Giry to undress Christine. She even had the thoughtfulness of preparing an evening dress for her, like if she already knew that the singer was going out with Raoul that night; an attention Christine quite appreciated.

But from time to time, as she got prepared, she would glance apprehensively towards the mirror. It was the very same mirror, the very same two-sided mirror which seemed today like some secret portal to Hell. Christine was afraid that he was there. Soon, Mme Giry saw her fears, and gently, she took her hand and patted it.

"Don't worry," she said gently. "I know he isn't there."

Poor thing, the ballet mistress thought. He must be in the deepest place he can reach, down in his undergrounds. For a moment, Mme Giry couldn't help comparing him to a wounded wild beast… But she swept away her gloomy thoughts. Christine had had enough emotions for one night, and truly disserved a bit of comfort.

"There you go," Mme Giry said, gently arranging Christine's hair in an elaborate bun, and then contemplating the final result. "You look beautiful."

She smiled gently, in those maternal smiles only mothers have the secret of producing so naturally. Without asking for it, Christine hugged her adoptive mother in her arms. Mme Giry felt her heart melt and burn. She regretted so much, now, that she hadn't protected Christine better. Well, she couldn't have done much, anyway. You didn't say no to Erik. She knew it, from the day she had freed him from the gypsy fair, that no one would put any obstacles to his attempt to raise in what he would qualify of Heaven. Now, after all this madness, she just hoped things would change, now that the vicomte was there… But she wasn't too certain of that. The Phantom wouldn't abandon so easily.

"Go now. You are young. Night and day are yours." Mme Giry said simply, as a manner of saying good bye.

Christine smiled, and headed towards the door, a cloak on her shoulders and a hood lifted on her head. She got out of the dressing-room, to see that Raoul was there, waiting for her.

"Are you ready?" he simply asked.

"Yes." It was a rather laconic answer, but for Christine and Raoul, it somehow meant the world.

They were young, and rather naïve, for they had so little experience of life, and its obstacles and pains. They had shared, when they were younger, this imaginary world full of fairies and korrigans, where they would always be the victorious heroes, winning every battle together. Life and its hazards, or perhaps God and His divine providence, or, even, maybe, Daddy Daaé himself, who unfortunately didn't send the real Angel of Music, but was still present, had brought them back together. Christine knew that Raoul would protect her at any cost. Raoul knew that he would be willing to do anything to protect Christine.

"Yes" just concluded this eternal pact between them. For good, they turned their back to darkness, to walk towards light, ready to fight for it if they were retained from it. But not individually. Together.

They got out of the Opera Populaire, this time, without paying any attention to some shadow hiding near the sculptures of the nine Greek Muses or beside Bacchus surrounded by his suite of satyrs and fauns. It was only when they were both installed in the carriage that suddenly, Christine gasped and remembered she had forgotten to look… She giggled nervously.

"I'm free," she said to Raoul, who had looked at her worryingly when he heard her giggle. "I got out… I escaped."

The first part of the supper had been rather silent. Christine and Raoul didn't mind. The singer didn't have much to say, anyway, and just needed to unwind. The vicomte, knowing how much she had been tested out emotionally, hoped that a meal would simply help her to recompose herself, at least a little bit.

But soon, as the supper was almost over, he remarked that, know that time was passing by, that she was looking often at the clock, stopping living in the present moment and realizing that every pleasure came to his end… she was afraid of going back there, back into that living nightmare.

To the eyes of the world, they were adults, now, though Christine seemed closer to the child than the woman. And often, Raoul felt himself that he was still quite boyish. Just that attempt to get a mustache. He had abandoned when the only thing he could pull out of it were a few miserable hairs popping out quite randomly and disgracefully around his mouth.

They were adults, now. And the world came in, with all its rules about how men had to behave with women, and how women would behave with men.

The wisest thing to do, according to Raoul's conscience, would be to invite Christine for the night. It was simply nonsense to bring her back to the Opera House, not after what she had experienced. How would she even find enough serenity to simply fall asleep?

Certainly, Mme Giry, even as conformist as she was, would understand such a measure, Raoul had no doubt of it. But still… he just couldn't invite Christine for the night, especially that there was no feminine presence at home, beside the servants, of course, but still, that wasn't enough. But thankfully, Philippe was away for the next six months and wouldn't start jumping to conclusions…

Oh well, down with the rules. Christine's safety was more important, and he even felt ridiculous now of worrying about them.

But asking Christine was something a lot more delicate.

"If you want…" Raoul burst out, before immediately regretting it, than taking a deep breath to continue, "You could come and stay at my place… just for the night."

Christine's eyes widened, while Raoul prayed Heaven more than he ever did in his entire life for the strength of not blushing. Immediately, before she could even answer, he replied, but in a way it could reflect his mind very well:

"You'll have a private room, and… and you can also stay tomorrow and… I know it's not really appropriate, and…"

Gosh, I'm awkward.

Can I just knock my head on the wall in public? Please?

But thankfully, Christine's laugh made itself heard gently. Never had it sounded more beautiful to Raoul.

"I admit I felt like asking you that… but I was kind of shy to ask." She admitted gently. "Don't worry for my reputation. I am just a singer, after all."

Christine didn't even mention that anyway, almost everyone, thanks to La Carlotta, thought she had spent the night of Hannibal sleeping with Raoul. No. She was somewhere else, so to say. And she didn't want to think of it. Not at all.

She knew, thanks to all the flowers and even sometimes notes she had received after her triumph in Hannibal, that she had quite a lot of admirers who were desperately trying to get to her. But providentially, Mme Giry played her adoptive mother role quite well, ready to stand in between Christine and the crowd and firmly announce that Mademoiselle Daaé wanted no visitors. The ballet mistress and the prima donna both knew a bit too well that some of those admirers had other than platonic admiration. After all, dancers and singers were popular mistresses among the elite. Christine, in her pure heart, only felt disgust imagining she could be the play toy of some rich man. Already, she could remember when Meg and she would run away from a bit-too-interested stagehand from time to time… Joseph Buquet was the worse. But for now, Christine, remembering the man's fate, though she hadn't seen his corpse, didn't want to think of it.

Tonight would be a sweet, peaceful night, where she could sleep without being tormented by some evil spirit.

"Well…" Raoul finally said, with a boyish and somehow devilish grin on his face, "If I do mess up your reputation… I'll be obliged to marry you."

"Vicomte!" Christine replied, falsely offended. "I didn't know you were so devious."

With the same smile, Raoul shrugged, than, unable to retain himself, he burst of laughter, quickly imitated by Christine, provoking a few glares from the people around them. One in particular, a fat little old lady who looked at them, particularly furious, stopped their laughter. But it also provoked that Raoul, making sign to Christine to observe him, quickly glanced at the lady who had now her back turned to them, and then, he blow up his cheeks and frown, making a very good imitation of her.

Retaining herself from laughing once again, and quite inappropriately, Christine quickly coughed, declaring:

"I'm done with my meal. And you?"

Raoul nodded, making sign to a waiter to bring the note, quickly paid, and Christine and he got out of the restaurant and got back in their carriage. It was only then that finally, they dared to roar with laughter.

Soon, as they calmed down at last, it was only then that Christine and Raoul remembered what had happened a few hours earlier… and interiorly, they smiled. Christine, because she had so easily broken off from the Phantom's fearsome memory and control. Raoul, because he had succeeded into distracting Christine from her waking nightmares, trapped in some eternal, moonless night.

When they arrived in front of Raoul's home, the vicomte, still lost in his thoughts, couldn't help gazing at the sky. This sky, ruled by night, was quite different of the one Christine was so afraid of. The summer season provided a horizon without any clouds, stars and full moon brighter than ever.

Raoul was no poet. He had this attraction towards fairy tales, and could still remember all the ones Gustave Daaé would tirelessly tell to Christine and him. Raoul was a wide-eyed idealist, for he was young, and still had no experience of the cruelties of the real world… It had been so little of while since he could be considered as a man, in his twenty, soon twenty-one years of life… But still, often, Raoul de Chagny still had trouble to walk pass the limit separating the teenager from the man.

In his soul, he was still closer to the teenager than the adult, and in consequence, he often had a lack of words to describe the world's beauty. He would simply gaze it slowly, sometimes awing in wonder… he had seen it, engraved in his memory for ever. It was enough. Words didn't seem powerful enough to share the beauty with other people.

Simply, he took Christine's head, gently, making her blush a bit, as they remembered how they would often do that, a long time ago.

"You see the moon and the stars? The night is never completely dark, you know. There's always hope, somewhere…"

Christine nodded. Her imagination, already more active than Raoul's, worked in her mind, as she compared the soft light of the moon to her father always looking upon her, who had brought Raoul back in her life, she was sure of that. And the stars… it was impossible to count them all… probably like all the good memories of the times where she was still with her father and Raoul.

Finally, Christine got out of her reverie, to follow Raoul into his home.

A/N: Reviews are candy for me: they keep me going! And by the way, if you have ideas, things you would like to see Raoul and Christine do, drop them in! Don't be shy!

Answers to reviews:

love rosie3: Thanks! ;) And it's true that there is really a lack of R/C stories… It's one of the main reasons why I'm writing this! ;)

fantasychica37: Thanks! And FINALLY SOMEONE WHO SAYS THAT R/C, AND NOT E/C IS CANON! Yay!

Kat: Thank you! ;)