Author's note: Look at me! I'm updating within a MONTH of the last chapter being posted! I've since had a new sense of empowerment from writing and I am trying to work it into my schedule more. AKA, my relaxing, free time. It usually includes one of my dogs accompanying me and some coffee, so that helps, right? It also helps that I have a little more of that free time now...

This is a short and sort of abrupt chapter. It's supposed to be abrupt and awkward, so hopefully your feeling that all for the right reasons. The chapter to follow should offer some more insight and excitement, so don't you worry! Did I mention I've already started hand writing the next chapter? Because I have. H00RAY!

Thank you to all who follow, favorite, review and even just stop by to read this story. I've had a lot of fun playing with the different directions that his tale can go, as well as working on keeping that "magic touch" to its style. It was very different from my last story (Obsessions) for many reasons, and it's probably going to be different from any other piece I write again. It's one of my favorite things to do with the Phantom of the Opera story, is play around with the idea and create something different, yet still keep some of its themes. So sincerely, I thank you all for giving my piece, amongst all of stories on this site, the time of day!

- Phantom's angel

Le Fantôme et L'ange

Chapter 12

Proposal

The weight of concealed knowledge was unveiled from Christine's shoulders at last. Telling her father had released a new sense of freedom, despite her feelings of grief after the matter. It was all well deserved. She had kept her secret for far too long, but now that Papa knew, she could confide in her father's guidance in the future.

It had been a mere two days since she had returned home, but Christine was making a conscious effort to push the memory of her journey from her mind all together. Although the experience was monumental, she hoped to let it pass so she could move forward toward a normal life in Perros. The fear she felt from the ghoul, the freedom she get from the forest, and the mystery she felt from the fantôme all taught Christine something valuable and gave her a thrilling experience, but what had it given her toward bettering her life? The life she was to live as a living, functioning member of a community and family? Christine felt it was now time to move on from la Toussaint, the spirits and everybody else's fears. She had to climb down her mountain and get back to her own life.

Christine spent her days running errands for Papa, tending to the planted crops, cooking a dinner for the evening; anything to keep her mind occupied. Despite her adventure, Christine wanted very much to be home now. Every thought which willed her to return to the forest was dangerous because she knew that next time, she may not come back. No, Christine had no reason to run away forever, but every time she thought of the fantôme, alone in the forest, unable to feel again, the more her heart sank. She felt at risk every time she began to sing while she worked outside the cottage, knowing that it stirred his presence to her side. So she remained silent, instead keeping a list of work in her head of what she needed to complete before the sunset in the West. In the daytime, it was easy to forget. At night, she would rekindle the spark, accepting his cold touch again, and allow him to take over her dreams. She was at risk every time she fell asleep at night and dreamed of his lulling melody singing her to sleep. So it seemed that her sleep would be hindered, for she woke every time the dreams would return.

Her childhood was lost without her song, but perhaps it was all for the better. No more fairytales. No more magic. No more spirits.

Meanwhile, Papa was preparing his craft to begin selling cops to market. He pieced together a lovely cart to fill with vegetables as soon as summer came, complete with an upper level to accommodate any craft which Christine decided to take up selling. The wheels of the cart were large and strong, capable of caravanning behind the dapple-grey gelding from Sant-Brieg, and parking on any amount of incline. He fitted the center section with small wooden shelves and a pair of opening cupboards in the back for extra storage. It was a fine cart and would serve them well come spring, where he planned to attend the first harvester's market.

Christine set to preparing a lovely stew for dinner that evening. She had encountered an elderly woman in town who was selling an assortment of foods and bread and made a purchase in hopes to secure a partnership come next season. With it, she gained a hearty dinner to prepare for Papa when he returned home that night.

The vegetables were chopped and the bread was being cut into halves when Christine turned immediately from her work. Standing behind her was a tall figure with arms crossed over his chest, loitering within the door's frame.

"Mist—Monsieur de Chagny," Christine said, startled, yet trying to make a good impression in her dialect. "I did not expect you."

Her tone suggested more than just a surprise appearance, but also pointed out the brazen way of entering somebody's household. Despite the continued disregard to manners she felt he displayed, she was afraid he was here for questioning on her disappearance. How could it be that he found out? She knew Raoul wouldn't be so cruel…

"Can I offer you some tea?" Christine asked.

"That will not be necessary," Philippe said with a wave of his hand.

"Very well," Christine muttered.

She dropped the cutting knife she held and stared at de Chagny, waiting for him to state what he clearly wanted to say.

"Mademoiselle Daaé," he began, "I have a proposition for you."

"And what is that?" Christine asked, amusement lining her tone.

"That you and your father leave Perros."

Christine crossed her arms over her chest, mirroring Philippe's stance. She was truly baffled by this move of Philippe's, she hardly knew what to say. She stood silently for a moment, waiting for Philippe to reveal some form of a joke, but his glance continued to remain stern.

"And why should we leave?" she asked slowly.

"You know as well as anyone else; you don't belong here," Philippe said freely.

"I bed your pardon—"

"Oh, come now Miss Daaé, you have been unable to settle in here since the moment you arrived," Philippe said.

Christine looked into his dark brown eyes, searching for another reason. She knew there must be more to his madness than to run her out of town. Though he had dark hair and plain eyes, he seemed so distant from the kindness of others in town. Of course, they were all quite capable of displaying closed hearts in times of fear, she had seen their acceptance of her before and was beginning to see it again. Philippe's brother especially, who was full of life, yet from the same family, was always very good-natured. What knowledge did Philippe possess and keep only to himself? How did Christine tie into it all?

"You cannot make us leave," Christine protested. "We have given up plenty from our journey here and we cannot do the same again."

"You shall loose nothing," Philippe said, his unfriendly brow raising with promise.

"How do you mean?" asked Christine.

"My proposal is for you to leave Perros," Philippe said, "And in return, you shall be provided a generous home in Tréguier?"

"You cannot be serious," Christine said, her eyes wide with fascination.

"I am perfectly serious," Philippe cooed.

"Why are you presenting me with this proposal?" Christine asked. "Why not my father?"

"Come now, Christine, we both know this really has nothing to do with your father," Philippe said.

"And what benefit is it to you if we leave?" Christine asked.

Philippe paused, long enough that Christine thought she had him caught. Perhaps now she could learn why he was obsessed with her connection to the spirits. Instead, he threw a new twist at her.

"I know you have an attraction to my brother."

"I—what?"

"And given his place in this town, there is no hope in anything materializing," Philippe said.

Christine couldn't fully comprehend what was being said to her. Her own feelings were being announced to her although she had never even realized them. She had no time to fathom what it was she had felt toward Raoul, she was so concerned with fantômes. Now, as her feelings were being declared to herself, she knew that it was true. Raoul had always been a loyal friend and watched out for her best interests, no matter how pushy they were. Now, it seemed glaringly obvious.

Her heart raced, for she had never loved anybody more than Papa. As her conflicted heart grew more agitated over her prior concerns, she had no time to realize that Raoul was a fine match.

But no! She could not let these feelings show. Not now.

Christine began to pace.

"You and your father will be given time to pack your things and ready your home," Philippe said. "We do not have to let Raoul know."

"I never consented to leaving," Christine said franticly.

"You must," Philippe urged.

"I will not be forced to leave," Christine muttered. "I will speak with Raoul about the matter and tell him there is no chance of anything between us. I shall not mention this meeting with Raoul, nor any other soul."

"Mademoiselle, that will not work," Philippe said.

"It will have to work," Christine insisted.

"He plans to elope," Philippe said at last.

Christine stopped her nervous pacing.

Her eyes diverted immediately to the floor, trying to gather her thoughts. What would make him want to act so wildly?

"I will not follow him," Christine said.

"He will be heart broken."

"I need to think…"

"It would be best to stay away from him."

"No…"

"You must," Philippe said.

Christine now turned and looked straight at Philippe. His passion for his family grew strong and it was evident by his defense of Raoul. But to ask for a person to leave a place, all because of a childish romance? Yet a proposal of elopement certainly was serious. How could Christine ignore what was glaring her right in the face?

"I know my brother better than anybody else, and now you may have seen a glimpse of his true nature," Philippe said. "He is a very passionate person and will not stop for anything. I am afraid that once his mind is set, he will pursue whatever it is he sets his mind to. Denying him would drive him mad and only make him more determined."

Christine's eyes grew wide as Philippe spoke. Perhaps his resolution the other day was a sign of what was to come. Could it have been that he fought so hard because he was intent to win her over?

"I will speak with Raoul," Christine said.

"He will not listen—"

"I will try," Christine said. "If he cannot find reason, I will take the next course of action."

Before Philippe could utter another word, both of their heads turned to the sound of Charles Daaé walking up the steps of the porch. Philippe bowed his head toward Christine, making his exit toward the door.

"Think about it before taking action," Philippe said before letting himself out. "Do not act rashly."

He greeted Daaé as he left, leaving Charles unable to offer more than a quick wave in his direction before he was off.

Papa came into the cottage with a bewildered twist on his lips, begging for answers. Philippe left in his normal fashion, which was by brushing past the front porch and skipping steps toward the trail leading South, whether that was by foot or on horseback. Papa watched the door swing close and then rubbed the stubby gathering on his chin.

"You know, I never do get a good conversation out of that fellow," Papa said partly in jest.

"Neither do I," Christine sighed.

Christine knew she had another long discussion with her father ahead of her. This time, it would go a lot differently than before.