A/N: See, it's not that different. Just a little. :)
Erik awoke the next morning in a state of anxiety. This would be the first formal visit he had made in his entire life, and he was feeling nervous. "Should I wear my mask, or simply the false nose? Which would frighten an elderly woman the least? Oh, how should I know anything about elderly women in the first place? Perhaps it would be best to let Christine choose." Thus decided, he donned his finest attire, combed his sparse amount of hair, and made his way to the kitchen to begin cooking breakfast.
Christine emerged from her room a few minutes later and followed the smell of sizzling bacon to the kitchen. She wore a red velvet dress with white lace trim at the collar and cuffs, and her golden hair was swept up into a tidy bun.
"Good Morning, Maestro," she said softly, coming into the kitchen. Erik turned to face her, his eyes immediately widening at her beauty. He felt his heart flutter within his chest.
"Christine!" he exclaimed, his expression one of joyful rapture, "Good morning to you, my Angel. Erik has a very important question for you this morning." Reaching into his pocket, he produced the false nose.
"Which should Erik wear?" he asked, holding it out to her, "The false nose or the mask? Christine must choose, for Erik does not know."
"The mask, I think," Christine said after a moment's pause.
"Quite right!" he exclaimed, stuffing the nose into his pocket once more before turning back towards the stove, "It is best if Erik covers as much of his hideous face as possible, so that Madame Valerius shall not be frightened."
"Oh, Erik," she said softly, "Poor Erik. She won't be afraid of you at all once I tell her that you are the Angel of Music!"
"But I'm not the Angel of Music, Christine!" Erik cried, looking at her confusedly with a frying pan clutched in his hands, "Why should you lie to her that way?"
"No no no, Erik," she replied, "I meant, one I tell her that you are the one who has been teaching me. I told her I was being taught by the Angel of Music, as I truly thought I was. But now she is to know as I do, that the Angel is a man."
"Do you think she will be angry with me for deceiving you so?" he asked as he placed the eggs and bacon onto the plates.
"I think not," said Christine, "In fact, I think she shall like you very much." She smiled at Erik, who returned the gesture shyly before carrying the plates into the dining room and setting them upon the table. They sat down and began to eat.
"Erik is nervous," he confessed after a few minutes, "He has never been on a visit before."
"Don't worry," she replied with a comforting smile, "I'll be right there to help you along, and Mama is the sweetest old woman. She won't harm you, rest assured."
"Oh, I'm not worried about that," he said with a small laugh, "I just hope she isn't too critical of my manners. Erik's etiquette may not be up to date, you see."
"I'm sure you'll do fine," Christine replied, finishing the last of her eggs and wiping her mouth daintily with a napkin. Erik had already finished his breakfast.
"Shall we be off then?" he asked, "And perhaps after our visit Christine would enjoy a shopping trip. Erik has plenty of money, and Christine deserves a reward for being so good to him these past few days."
"Oh, no, I couldn't," she protested.
"Erik insists."
"Well, alright then."
Erik donned his hat and gloves and he and Christine made their way up through the maze of corridors and tunnels to the little gate on the rue Scribe. Much to his surprise and delight, Christine offered him her arm. He stared at her for a moment in awe before taking it, and together they emerged into the sunlight.
Erik hailed a cab, and Christine told the driver the address. They made good time, and were there within about twenty minutes. Erik paid the driver and they disembarked, Christine practically running up to the door of the building. A small smile graced Erik's lips as he followed her up a few flights of stairs and down the hall towards the old woman's flat.
"How full of life she is," he thought to himself, "Is it not ironic that a corpse such as I should lose his cold, dead heart to one such as she?" Christine rang at the door, and a moment later it was answered by a maid who very nearly dropped the tea tray she was holding.
"Miss Christine!" the young woman exclaimed, "Madame will be very pleased to see you! You must forgive us, there is another visitor here today as well."
"Oh?" Christine asked as the maid ushered them in, "Who is it?" The young woman grinned.
"Come and see," she said, leading the two of them back towards the bedroom. As they drew nearer, they began to hear voices. One sounded as if it belonged to an elderly woman. The other was that of a young man, and he seemed quite frantic.
"But I don't know anything about it!" cried the man, "And why can't Christine marry?"
"Because of the Angel of Music, of course!" responded the old woman.
"I don't follow..."
"Yes, he forbids her to!"
"He forbids her!" came the frenzied response, "The Angel of Music forbids her to marry!"
"Oh, he forbids her... without forbidding her. It's like this: he tells her that, if she ever got married, she would never hear him again. That's all! And he would go away forever! So, you understand, she can't let the Angel of Music go. It's quite natural."
At this very moment, the maid walked in through the door with the tea tray.
"Excuse me Madame, but you have more visitors," the young woman said.
"Who else could it possibly be?" the old woman asked. In response, the maid opened the door and ushered Christine and Erik into the room.
"Christine!" cried the young man, leaping to his feet. She gasped.
"Raoul!" she exclaimed, "What a surprise!" Erik glared venomously at the young vicomte from behind his mask, fingering the thin punjab lasso he carried beneath his jacket.
"My dear girl," said Madame Valerius, reaching out her hands towards Christine, "What has happened? Has your good Angel returned you to us already? And who is this gentleman?" She turned her gaze towards Erik.
"Oh Mamma," sighed Christine, taking the old woman's hands, "This man is the Angel. Well, not a real angel of course, but he is the one I have told you about."
"How can this be?" asked Mamma Valerius, "How can your Angel be a man?"
"Well," Christine said, "He hid behind my dressing room walls and taught me to sing, claiming to be the Angel of Music so I would not be frightened. Oh Mamma, he truly is very kind and gentle. But forgive me! I have not properly introduced you! Monsieur le Vicomte, Madame Valerius, may I present Erik, my maestro and dear friend." Erik bowed stiffly.
"Erik?" Raoul asked in confusion, "Have you no surname, Monsieur?"
"No," Erik replied, before turning towards Christine and Mamma Valerius, "Madame, it is an honor."
"Come here, Monsieur Erik," the old woman said, releasing one of Christine's hands and reaching out towards him, "My dear Christine has told me of her Angel a good many times. I had thought I should never get to meet him as long as I lived, but now I do!" Erik approached her bedside cautiously, allowing the old woman to clasp his gloved hand in hers.
"Christine," Raoul said, "Have you thought at all about my proposal?" Erik whirled around, seething with jealousy.
"Monsieur," he said darkly, "You heard Madame Valerius. Christine cannot marry, for the Angel of Music forbids it!"
"Christine can do as she pleases!" cried the vicomte, "She is not your marionette!" Christine moved between the two men, trying desperately to diffuse the situation.
"Erik! Raoul! This is no way to behave on a proper visit!" she cried, as if scolding two naughty children, "Raoul, you are correct. I may indeed do as I please. But Erik is also correct, for I cannot marry as of yet."
"But Christine," Raoul pleaded, "Don't you see? There is no Angel of Music! So you need not fear losing him!"
"I do not fear losing my Angel!" Christine very nearly shouted, "What I fear is... What I fear is... is..." The poor girl had no time to finish her statement, for she had fainted dead away and collapsed directly into the arms of poor Raoul.