Thank you for the kind reviews, mes amis! I'm glad you guys are getting into the plot and such. This chapter is quite short but do not fear; i have already started writing the next one. ALSO, i tend to update quickly just because i really enjoy writing. I push my uni work aside and just write which is terrible but... i cant help myself. Updating quickly is a good thing, usually. But let me know if it is too quick and ill do my best to keep you guys in suspense for longer :P

Phanty belongs to Leroux and Lloyd Weber.

Erik

From the moment I woke up I was anxious about seeing Christine. I knew who she was with and while I trusted her, it was safe to say that I was ill at ease. Moreover I was anxious to see her because of what had happened; because of what I had done. I needed to see her as soon as possible so I could be secure in knowing that everything was alright between us; so that she could ask me about it, so that I could lie and be done with it and have everything return to normal. I needed to see her before anyone else had the chance to fill her head with the rumors...

The truth...

...The rumors that were more than likely floating around the Opera. They did so love to gossip about me. Hurriedly I dressed and prepared to leave.

Looking at my watch I discovered that it was only four o'clock. We had agreed to meet at six. Crestfallen I sat down at my organ, absentmindedly fingering the keys with my right hand as I sat, cloaked and ready to leave. I swung my leg around so that I was sitting on the bench and facing the instrument that in the past had provided me with the much needed escapism I required to survive the bleak hours... Perhaps some music would pass the time? It had served that purpose for the majority of my years. I began to play a melody but found that no matter which turn it took, it failed to please me. It wasn't that my fingers were clumsy or that they couldn't play what I needed them to, it was simply that whatever I tried to do with the melody, the result was always the same. It was stale; boring and it did nothing to ease my frustration. It only served to heighten it. I could not even focus on music.

I pushed my bench back and stood up, frustrated with myself. I was not inspired, I was not happy, I was nothing. I was stuck. I needed to see her. I needed to know that everything would be alright and the longer I waited, the more panicked I became. I couldn't be where I was... my home, my tomb. I could not rest knowing that my relationship with Christine was at risk. I could not lose her, not after everything I had felt... Not after knowing what could be.

I found that I could no longer bear to be where I was so I left. I collected my gloves and, never neglecting tradition, a red rose from the vase on my desk. Deciding that it was late and that no one would be entering the dressing room except for Christine, I waited inside for her. It was early yes, but it was better than waiting in my tomb for my absolution. In the darkness of her dressing room, I sat down on my favored divan and waited.

As it got later I began to grow anxious once more, checking my watch every minute as if expecting a drastic change on the clock face which would not occur.

Five o'clock.

Five thirty.

Five forty five.

My leg began bouncing on the spot; jerking up and down repetitively; a habit I had acquired at a young age and usually a sign that I was anxious or that my patience was wearing thin. Tonight it was both. I took comfort though in knowing that I would see Christine in a matter of minutes. Everything would be sorted and I would be able to relax...

Five fifty.

Six o'clock.

Six! Where was she? She was never late and she always kept her word. Perhaps she had forgotten? Perhaps she did not want to see me?

Five past six.

It must be that boy! What are they doing? Perhaps she was already told about Buquet and she has changed her mind? I began to feel sick in the stomach as my thoughts plummeted to the worst possible scenario; a learned trait.

Six thirty.

She was half an hour late, I was fraught with nerves and I was beginning to feel short of breath. Yet still, I waited. As I sat there my mind conjured up imagery that turned my stomach to rot. Christine and Raoul... That boy with Christine on his arm, enjoying her smiles, sharing in the moments that should be mine to have... Believing her to be his... His!

Then I began to worry... actually worry for her safety. I did not know the first thing about this character. Perhaps something had happened? Perhaps he had hurt her and I was here feeling sorry for myself rather than watching over her as I had promised I would. Everything else was trivial when I considered her safety.

When she finally arrived it was past seven and I was beyond lost in a haze of jealousy and anguish. It threatened to cloud every thought and action but I did everything in my power not to sound desperate or vulnerable when I spoke. In spite of myself though, I exhaled slightly when she entered the room. Whatever else, she was safe.

"You're late." I said. I stood by the mirror, arms folded; subconsciously guarding myself in preparation for her response.

"Yes..." she said; her voice small. Just seeing her in that dim lighting, looking so afraid and apprehensive made me want to forget everything and hold her. How I longed to be in her arms again... "I... I'm sorry." She added.

"Care to elaborate?" Irritably, I shifted my weight where I stood. "We had plans, Christine." I was utterly insulted by the fact that I had to ask for an explanation. Did I not even deserve that?

"I... I'm sorry!" She began, haphazardly throwing her shawl down on a chair by the door. "I didn't plan to be late! I told Raoul that I had plans but..."

"Raoul?" I asked; more a statement than a question. My initial anger returned at the sound of that name. "So you were in his company the whole time?"

"Yes... Erik, you knew where I was." She replied, almost a question.

"Yes. Yes I knew where you were but you were late! You cannot imagine how I panicked, Christine." I strode towards her. She stepped back slightly as I did so, perhaps frightened by the intensity with which I approached.

"Raoul made me stay out!" She reasoned.

"Made you? So you had no say in it, whatsoever? I am sure that if you really wanted to Christine, you could have returned."

"No, I couldn't! I..."

"I thought something may have happened to you but, no... You were simply in his company, enjoying yourself. You were in his company after six when you had agreed to be in mine."

"Erik, I am sorry for being late but... don't treat me like I am simply... property to be shared." She stepped forward, apparently gaining confidence with every word she spoke. "I had agreed that I would be here at six and I wasn't. But do not presume that you own me at that time just because I promised that I would see you." This enraged me.

"Did you even have a thought, Christine?" I walked to her. Again she took a small step backwards but it did not deter me. I held her by the shoulders and questioned her. "Did you have a care at all for my feelings? I was sitting here for over an hour waiting for you. I will not simply wait in faith for you. I will not simply be here for you until you are done with your boy."

"That is not what this is, Erik. Is that really what you think? Is that what you make me out to be?"

I looked at her. Her eyes were burning into me; they bore into mine and somewhere within their depths I regained both my sanity and my composure. No, that wasn't what I thought. I knew her better than that. I was just horribly worked up and I wanted to tell her why... but I could not.

"...No." I said, releasing her gently and turning away. "That isn't what I think. But it was how I felt. I felt..."

"Tell me how you feel. Just tell me." She said, touching my arm.

"I felt like a fool." I spat, the words sounding much harsher than I had intended. "I felt like I was nothing, sitting... waiting for you." Christine looked at me, her eyes willing me to continue. "I know how he feels for you; that boy. And all I could think about was you two together enjoying a world that I cannot."

"Well... firstly, I told you that I was seeing him as a friend and you agreed to it..."

"I know. I know." I nodded, slightly dismissively.

"Secondly... who says that we can't enjoy the world together?"

I chuckled mirthlessly. "You do not know what lies under this mask, Christine... I cannot enjoy the world..."

"Well, we shall simply have to exist in a different world." She said decidedly. I had not intended to mention my mask; not this early, but the fact that Christine did not even ask about it upon my mention was too much for me to bear and the words she spoke near broke me. She had such a unique outlook on the world; perhaps it was a naive one. But her statement made everything seem so simple, so attainable. Things would simply be because she wanted them so.

"A different world..." I repeated, my voice wavering with emotion. "How I have dreamed of such a concept..."

"Take me to your world, Erik." She said, taking my hand. I looked down at her hand, then up at her face in disbelief. How could she be so forgiving, so understanding?

Because she doesn't know the truth yet.

Of course; it was because she doesn't really know me. Once she does she will want nothing to do with me.

"I apologize, Christine." I began.

"There is no need." She said, silencing me with her raised hand.

"There is. Are you sure that you still wish to join me, tonight? I won't blame you if the answer is no... After the way I have behaved."

"Of course I do! Take me to your home. Show me your world once more."

I smiled and reaching within my cloak I presented her with the red rose I had prepared for her. Upon seeing it her face lit up and I was momentarily remiss of all my troubles.

"You never forget, do you?" She smiled.

"Of course not." I replied, regaining composure and standing up proudly.

"But... I haven't performed!" She said, beautiful in her child-like innocence.

"Did you really think that you needed to do something to deserve a gift from me, Christine? That was never the purpose of these. That was never my purpose..." With that she threw herself into my arms which, still mostly unused to contact, remained where they were at my sides.

"Thank you." She said quietly.

I took her hand as we began to descend the many stairs that bridged the gap between her world and my own. Things had changed so much since our last descent down this staircase, and it was evident with every step we took. Christine had the same expression upon her face; that of wonderment and awe at her surroundings... but this time she was walking next to me instead of behind me and we were walking at a much more leisurely pace. Again, she was holding my hand but I knew that it meant more tonight. Tonight I would show her all the things I hadn't a chance to the last time. I would treat her like a queen; she could have and do anything she desired and I would not frighten her. I smiled to myself as she walked beside me. Tonight I would be the exemplary gentleman she knows me to be.

Then, she asked the question I had been both dreading and anticipating. With those words she completely derailed my thought pattern and I was returned to the harsh reality in which I had been living prior to seeing her.

"Did... you hear about what happened to Joseph Buquet?" She asked, the echo of her voice surrounding us. I could not think of a more beautiful sound. I had known that she had been planning to ask me this question since she saw me tonight. I had seen the question on her lips several times since leaving her dressing room. I feigned surprise.

"Buquet... he is the scene shifter, no? No I have not heard of what happened."

"He... he was found dead above the stage."

"Oh yes?"

"Yes... they think that he was strangled. So terrible..."

"Indeed." I said, lacking interest. Despite my nervous anticipation I could not help myself. The man had done nothing to endear himself to me whatsoever.

"Erik... I'm sorry... it may be a silly question but I have to ask it."

"What?" I could see it coming; could what she was leading up to; it was as if she expected me to own up to the crime with each word she spoke; each small detail she gave me.

Deny it.

Just deny it.

"It's just that... Where they found him..." She thought before continuing as if ensuring that she would choose the right words. "It was the same place that I found you after that first performance. And I know that... that is where you watch me from."

"I watch the stage from many vantage points. What are you trying to ask me, Christine?"

"Were you there last night? After I saw you? Or this morning?"

"Just ask what is on your mind." I took a step closer to her. I wanted her to ask me... needed her to. "Ask me."

Ask me and get it over with.

"Did... Did you kill him?"

"No." I said. She stared at me for a moment before looking away. Perhaps she knew the truth and chose not to think on it or perhaps all she needed was for me to deny it and she would believe me. Perhaps she wanted to think the best of me. Either way, I felt sick upon my answer. My chest felt heavy and I knew that if I wasn't already going to hell, I certainly would be for lying to someone so innocent; someone so perfectly pure that they wanted to think the best of me... me of all people.

"I did not kill him." I added plainly. There... it was out. The lie was out.

"I knew that you didn't..." I felt all the worse; almost crippled with guilt. I had said what I had planned to but I felt that I did not feel better at all. In actual fact, I felt worse.

We spent the rest of the time down the stairs in silence and she only spoke as we reached the water.

"I am sorry for being late." She said as I began preparing the boat. I looked up at her, speechless. What could I say that would excuse my heinous lie... my heinous act? Here she was apologizing to me when I was in the wrong... and how wrong I was. I stood up and faced her and to my surprise she embraced me.

"Please, do not apologize. It was silly of me..."

Silly of me to murder.

"I should not have overreacted." I wrapped my arms around her. Yes, I was nervous in doing so but I had been craving her embrace since our last parting. "Will you forgive me?"

"I have already forgiven you!" She spoke into my chest, holding me tighter as she did so. I smiled. She had forgiven me for that at least...

"I... just feel protective over you."

"I know. I like it... it shows that you care." She said. Yes, but I knew that I had to stop being so protective lest it ruin everything, but I could not help myself. I wanted to be with her every second of every day. But she had been so forgiving... perhaps... if I told her the truth, things wouldn't be as bad as all that?