A/N: Life at last! Salutations from the other side! Yep, I'm finally back from the dead. What I thought to be a bad case of writer's block turned out to be something I could only cure with revision, and things have begun flowing again now that I realized that I made Christine fall for him too fast. : I hope you'll enjoy version two!

Erik stood there in the kitchen, utterly stunned by what had just happened. Slowly, a grin spread across his face, and he ran to his bedroom, hurriedly pulling out a quill, an ink well, and some blank sheet music and sitting down at his organ. He'd had the sudden inspiration for a new concerto, and as he began composing, it revealed itself to be by far the most joyful piece of music he had ever written. He worked all afternoon until, lost in his music, he fell asleep slumped over on the organ's keys. This was how Christine discovered him upon entering his room that evening to ask him what he should like for supper.

"Poor dear Erik," she thought with a smile, "He's fallen asleep at his work. I'll let him rest a bit longer." She was about to leave, when she suddenly spied his diary resting on the bedside table. Hesitantly, she walked over and picked it up.

"I know I shouldn't be doing this," she thought as she made her way into the sitting room and sat down in an armchair, "But I can't help it! I'm just curious by nature." She leafed through the pages until she found the place where she had left off.

November 28

Christine is very good to her poor monstrous Erik. Today, as Erik sat reading in the library, Christine came to him, came to him! She willingly sought out her monster's presence! She walked right by him, and even offered him a smile! Another smile, for Erik! She sat and read, and Erik did also, or so he made her believe. For Erik is a very clever fellow, and by a trick of turning the pages every so often and peeking over the edge of his book, he was able to glut his poor eyes upon Christine's divine beauty for hours on end! Oh, Erik's eyes are very hungry creatures. They have seen little beauty in their life, and Christine was indeed a very good girl to allow them such a feast. Her golden hair framed her face, like an angel's halo, and if Erik imagined hard enough, he could just picture what it would look like worn down! Oh, such a lovely sight that would be. But Christine would never let down her hair for her poor Erik! She is much too good for that. But Erik can dream his sinful dreams as much as he likes, for Christine shall never know!

Christine's eyes widened, reading Erik's indecent thoughts. "He was imagining me with my hair down?" she thought, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment, "The cad! Still, at least he knows I would never do such a thing. He's always seemed so innocent! I can't believe he would have such... sultry thoughts! But he is a man, of course. Perhaps all men think such things. He has a right to be a man, does he not? And I wanted to know what he thinks. At least he is a gentleman, and would never willingly tell me of such fantasies."

November 29

Christine is too good to be true! She discovered Erik's diary, and he despaired, thinking she would hate him after what she had read, but no! She came to his room and comforted him, even going so far as to slip her dear, gentle fingers under his mask! And when the mask slipped away, she did not shriek! She did not even react, but continued to stroke Erik's poor misshapen face with those beautiful, soft hands! Oh, how wonderfully gentle she was with her poor monster. She even told him he would no longer have to be alone! And then, oh, the way she dressed for dinner! Erik's heart nearly stopped in his chest. He has never seen anything so beautiful! Then came a delightful surprise; she asked him to join her at the table! But alas, Erik could not eat with his mask on, and made a fool of himself trying to eat with his face covered by a napkin. Then, most wonderful of all, Christine took pity on Erik's plight and fed him his dinner! Oh, it was wonderful to be pampered in such a way! It reminded me of Persia, where the gentlemen of the court would order their slave girls to feed them grapes and figs rolled in honey and other such delights. Erik thought it a silly custom at the time, but now he finds it rather appealing! Oh, Christine is no slave girl, to be sure, but it was lovely to have her putting little morsels into my mouth. The joys and kindnesses did not end there, however. When I had finished eating, she took the napkin and wiped my lips! Oh, Erik has never in his life experienced the joy of kissing a woman, but Christine has brought him closer to that unknowable ecstasy than ever before! Only the napkin separated her soft, beautiful skin from my desperate, corpse-like lips. Lips that despair of ever meeting hers in a sweet moment of bliss. One tender kiss from Christine would send Erik into fits of ecstasy. How often has he daydreamed of that sweet moment when he might be allowed to lose control and groan as her mouth met his? But Erik is getting off track! The joys of this evening did not end at the supper table, oh no! Christine and Erik went to the sitting room, and the darling angel went so far as to sit beside him and take his hand in hers! As if this were not enough, she removed his glove, and placed his poor bony hand upon her cheek! It was one of Erik's dreams come true, right before his eyes! Her face is smooth as silk, as beautiful to touch as it is to behold. Oh, and as if Erik's day could not get any better, she offered to help him with his nightmares! Erik declined, however, for he respects his angel's undying virtue entirely too much to ask to sleep at the foot of her bed. With all this mercy being shown to Erik today, what sublime ecstasy shall tomorrow bring?

The entries to the diary ended there. Since there was no mention of Christine's coming in later that night or the events that had so far transpired today, Christine gathered that Erik must write his diary entries right before bed. "Poor, poor Erik!" she thought as she snuck quietly into his bedroom and put the diary back exactly the way she had found it, "He's so desperate for affection! He has needs like any other human being. The need to be loved, to be held, to be kissed! Oh, my poor Erik." As she thought this, she walked over to the organ where Erik was sleeping. She put her hands on his shoulders, intending to shake him awake, then paused. She decided being shaken was a rather unpleasant way to wake up, and instead began to massage his thin, bony shoulders.

Erik groaned, his eyes fluttering open. He had no idea what was going on, only that something was rubbing and squeezing his sore back muscles in a very pleasurable way.

"Hello, Erik," he heard Christine say, "Did you have a nice nap?"

"Oh... Christine... Yes..." he hissed.

"Yes, you had a nice nap?" she asked, bemused.

"What? Oh... I don't know... Keep doing that..." he mumbled groggily. Christine giggled, but continued to massage his back.

"Does this feel good?" she asked.

"You have no idea," he groaned, "Sleeping on an organ... bad for the back... ohh..." Suddenly, something seemed to click in Erik's brain, and he jumped.

"Erik is sorry, Christine!" he cried, scrambling to his feet, "He did not mean to ask for more! Please forgive him!" With this he fell to his knees before her.

"Calm down, Erik," Christine said softly, kneeling down and stroking his hair, "It's alright. There is no harm done. What would you like me to make for supper?"

"But, Christine has done enough work today! She already cooked her poor Erik a delicious lunch, she must rest and let him do the work! Yes, Christine must rest. What would she like Erik to make?" Christine smiled at him and shook her head.

"Let me cook," she said, "I'll make anything you like. What is your favorite thing to eat, Erik? You deserve a good meal." Erik shifted awkwardly, looking down at his hands.

"When Erik was young, and he had been very good and not bothered Mother in a very long time, perhaps a week, she would treat him to a vegetable stew made with six different kinds of vegetables. Erik counted. There was corn, carrots, potatoes, peas, celery, and onions. That is the food that Erik likes the best," he said. Christine smiled and took his hands in hers.

"I'll make it then," she said, "And we shall eat together." Erik smiled shyly at her and nodded.

"Erik would like that very much," he said, his eyes sparkling with excitement. Christine stroked his hair one last time, then stood and walked to the kitchen to begin preparing the food. Erik climbed back onto the organ bench and went back to work on his concerto. He was just adding the finishing touches now, tweaking a few notes here, adding a measure there. His plan was to show it to Christine after dinner. "If music be the food of love, play on," he thought with a smile, signing his name at the bottom of the last page, "Christine adored her Angel of Music, perhaps she could learn to love Erik if he played his music for her! Oh, at last Erik has a way to woo his angel! Now, to find a title for my concerto of courtship. Aha!" Smiling widely, he scrawled the title across the top of the first page.

"The Spring Rose," he whispered, before rising and making his way to the dining room, where he found Christine setting down the bowls of soup. She looked up at him and smiled.

"How on Earth did you know that dinner was ready?" she asked. He shrugged and pulled out the chair for her to sit down. She did, and he pushed it in, before going around the table to sit across from her. He raised his glass.

"To Christine," he said softly, a slight smile on his face, "Who has been so very good to Erik. He has written a concerto for her, which he would like to show her after dinner." Christine's eyes widened.

"For me?" she asked. Surprise was written all over her face, and Erik found it quite endearing. His smile widened and he nodded.

"Christine has inspired Erik's music. He would like her to hear what he has written, if it pleases her to do so," he said, looking at her hopefully.

"Of course, Erik," she said, with a smile that made his heart flutter. He began to eat his soup. After a few bites, his eyes filled with tears, and he began to cry.

"What is wrong? Christine asked, hurrying around to Erik's side of the table and taking his hand.

"Erik, Erik misses her, Christine," he sobbed, "Erik misses his mother. She never loved him, never held him close, but he misses her so very very much. These last few days, you've made Erik feel so happy. It's as if you were taking Mother's place, giving him the kindness he's always prayed to receive. Thank you, Christine." She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him close.

"It's alright, Erik," she said softly, "I'm here for you. I'll make you this soup every night, if you like. Anything to help." He leaned against her, breathing deeply to try and calm himself.

"Thank you, Christine," he said at last, raising his head to look at her, "Erik is sorry for being so emotional."

"Don't be," she replied, smiling down at him, "You're a human being. It's natural to express your emotions." He smiled back at her. She returned to her chair and sat down, taking a bite of soup. Erik began to eat as well. Within a few minutes he had finished his bowl of soup. He looked at Christine.

"Would, would it be possible for Erik to have another helping?" he asked nervously.

"Of course!" Christine said with a smile, "Erik, you're eating more! I can't believe it! I'm very proud of you." He shifted awkwardly in his chair and averted his eyes.

"Th-thank you," he mumbled. Christine took his bowl into the kitchen and filled it, then returned and set it down in front of Erik once more. He succeeded in devouring a total of three bowls of soup.

"Christine," he said as he set down his spoon in the empty bowl, "Erik has never eaten so well in his entire life. You are surely the best cook in all the world!" She laughed.

"Don't be silly," she said, "There are far better cooks in this world than I. Do you want any more?" He shook his head.

"Erik is full and happy," he said, "If he eats any more, he shall be uncomfortable. Would you like to hear the concerto now?" He was looking at her eagerly and hopefully.

"Alright," she said. Erik led her excitedly to the organ. He pulled over a chair and gestured for Christine to sit down. She obliged, and he hurried over to the organ and began to play.

The piece surprised Christine a great deal. "This is not at all like his Don Juan Triumphant!" she thought, recalling what she had heard of that fiery and passionate opera from behind Erik's closed door, "Whereas Don Juan is dark and dramatic, this composition seems to be light and... rejoicing, even! How incredible that one man can write two pieces of music that are so very different! He said this new concerto was written for me. Can it be that I am the reason for his expression of joy?" She continued to ponder these things for a time, but soon became caught up in the music. It filled her mind, and in that moment she understood Erik's joy, and shared in it. As the last strains of music faded away, Erik turned to her, fixing her with his golden eyes.

"Was it to your liking?" he asked hopefully.

"Oh, it was beautiful!" she exclaimed, "I don't believe I've ever heard anything quite so lovely in all my life! Oh Erik, why are you not up above, sharing your music with the world? People would come from miles around to hear it, I'm sure!" Erik chuckled at her childlike enthusiasm.

"You are forgetting, my dear, that Erik does not look as other men do," he said, "Up above, no one would publish a masked musician. I have no backing, no credibility, no advocate. There is no one who would be willing to help me." Christine was quiet for a long moment, pondering what he had said. She wanted to help her maestro gain the prestige and glory he deserved, just as he had helped her. She had no way of doing this herself, but she knew someone who might. This person was Mama Valerius, who had many connections, as she and her late husband had been very influential in the art world many years ago.

"Erik," she said at last, "I may know someone who could help you. Mama Valerius, the woman I've told you about, has a great many friends in publishing, as well as the management of theaters all over Paris. At least, she did at one time. When we visit her tomorrow, we could ask her if there is anyone she knows who would be willing to publish your music." Erik blinked.

"This is my chance!" he thought, "I could finally share my music with the world, show them all what music really means! But what if it goes wrong? What if the publisher won't even look at it? What if people hate my music once they learn about my face? Oh, but Christine... She's offering to help me. I've never accepted help from anyone, except Nadir, and that was not by choice. I've always been strong, able to fight for myself. If Erik accepted Christine's help, would she think him a spineless weakling? Oh, it is likely that she thinks of him that way already, considering the way he has been acting lately. But the chance to share my music with the world... To walk in the light instead of always hiding in the shadows..."

"Yes," he said, his mouth making the final decision for him, "We shall ask her."