Sorry guys! Have been heckin' busy with study and all and also haven't had internet for a while... which makes things difficult! This chap is a bit long but I hope you like it all the same. It's pretty fluffy... but who's complaining? :)

Many thanks for the reviews and do let me know your thoughts. It's hard keeping everyone in character while having to actually develop the characters but hopefully I'm doing a semi-ok job at that.

Phanty belongs to Leroux and Lloyd Weber.

Christine

Most aspects of the journey had been vastly different to what I had remembered; this time the tunnel from my dressing room had been dark and frightening, but Erik had been there to hold my hand. He had even offered to carry me but I was far too embarrassed to accept. The boat ride had been different too, or perhaps I had simply remembered it differently; everything had been romantically lit where, this time it was almost in complete darkness. This time though, Erik talked to me as he pushed the boat. He was even being slightly playful; pretending that he was going to capsize the boat, but I knew that he wouldn't; He took far too much care with his trousers and his boots to get them wet.

For the second time, I stepped out of the boat and onto the shore of his home. And, chivalrous as always, he stepped out of the boat before offering me his gloved hand in assistance. In contrast to the rest of the journey, his home was exactly as I had remembered it to be. Candles lined every wall; the melted waxed framed each aspect of his home; every counter, every desk... even his organ. His organ was mesmerizing; the brilliant silver was framed perfectly as everything else was gold; clearly it was the centerpiece of his home, his prized possession. Other walls and surfaces were covered in red velvet and equally lush materials.

"This is beautiful." I said, releasing his hand and standing next to him. My eye caught his bed chamber and suddenly I remembered... I had spent a night in that bed. I blushed as I recalled what I had been wearing. Immediately I walked away from him in an attempt to hide my embarrassment and thankfully he seemed not to notice.

"Thank you." He said modestly, seemingly still focused on what I had said.

The caverns of his home seemed to go on forever, level after level of stone, wax and red velvet stretched on further than I could see. I turned back around to face Erik and stared at him in wonderment. Suddenly, he made sense. He made so much sense in this world of his; seemed to fit it perfectly and as his eyes caught mine I was once more lost in the sensual, mysterious, alluring persona that he was.

"Your home is beautiful." I repeated.

You are beautiful.

"It is just as I remembered."

"I am glad that you are happy here." He said, removing his cape. "I... keep thinking about the last time you were here."

"As do I!" I said excitedly. He looked at me.

"No I mean... the way I treated you. I can't get it out of my mind."

"I told you. It is forgotten! I should not have removed your... your mask." That mask... how I desired to know what lay beneath it. But it was not the time. I could not do that to him again. He simply smiled at me before looking down and immediately I knew that I should not have brought it up. I walked to him and taking his hands in mine began removing his gloves as I had done the night before. I felt him stiffen as my hands came in contact with his. He was so inexperienced and unused to contact and while it was a heartbreaking concept, I couldn't deny the fact that I was slightly delighted by it. I was the first one to hold his hand. I would be the first one to kiss him... to caress him... and more...

"I missed you today." I said as I held his glove-less hands in my own and stood closer to him. "When I was out with Raoul... everything we did, where we went... I kept thinking about what it would be like with you."

"Don't compare me with..." he began but I silenced him before he had the chance to turn it into another argument.

"I'm saying that I wished it was you!" He needed to stop being so sensitive but I knew that I couldn't make such requests of him, not when I knew next to nothing about him or what he had been through. Slowly, I felt him relax and actually tighten his grip on my hands.

"I missed you too. I always do when I'm not with you." He said. I looked into his eyes and amid the confusion and anger I saw sincerity and vulnerability. I was beginning to see that these were more Erik than anything else. I was beginning to see through his facade. His guard was down when he was with me; his eyes were softer, his voice was quieter, and every now and then I would see him smile. I lived for those moments.

I pulled him into my embrace once more and this time he reacted immediately; he returned it with almost crushing intensity but I dared not say anything. This was too rare a moment. After a few seconds he pulled away and looked at me, almost searching my eyes for something. I knew exactly what he was seeking, what he was asking. Standing up in an attempt to reach his height, I titled my head and closed my eyes. Thankfully he closed the distance; placing a hand on my cheek and hesitantly placing his lips upon mine. For a moment we did not move, each us of us was locked within our own thoughts. I wanted to smile, I wanted to laugh. I had been thinking of this moment for some time but was always too afraid myself. I moved my hands from his waist to the small of his back; reveling in the sensation of being able to feel him beneath my hands.

After a moment he pulled away and the expression on his face broke my heart; his eyes were examining mine with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude and he seemed out of breath even though we had only shared one kiss. I could not help but smile, both at his expression and at what we had just shared. When Erik smiled back I found that I could not suppress a giggle escaping my lips and I could have sworn that I heard the same from him. I placed my hands on the sides of his face and gently pulled his head down so that our foreheads touched. There I stroked the left side of his face with my thumb and as I did so he closed his eyes. I'm not sure that either of us knew how long we were standing there, simply reveling in the presence of one another; the breathing, the warmth. I had never felt so utterly contended and I daresay that the feeling was mutual.

"Come." He said; his voice husky just as it had been the first time he had used that word; when he had taken me back to the surface... I hoped he wasn't going to do the same this time. "You must make yourself comfortable while I prepare dinner." He added, pulling away.

"Dinner?" Of course, Erik and I had made an unspoken plan to share a meal tonight but I was in shock all the same. "Erik you don't have to do that!" I thought it prudent not to mention the fact that I had already eaten...

"I insist. It is the least I can do. You eat chicken, I assume?"

"Yes... I do but, don't put yourself through any trouble for me, please." Then I would feel even worse.

"Too late." He said, walking away from me with a smirk on his face. "I have already started walking towards the kitchen."

I followed him, wondering where the kitchen actually was. Cooking seemed a strange thought in contrast to where he lived and I had never even considered this aspect of his life. Every few moments I was reminded of where I was and was flooded with a mixture of both fear and wonderment.

When I entered he had removed his jacket and was rolling up his sleeves.

"Christine." He said; more a statement than a question. "Come to watch me make a mess, have you?" He smiled.

"Kitchen..." I gawped. "You... have a kitchen." I looked around. The decor of the room matched that of the rest of his living quarters. The counter tops looked as if they were made of stone, candelabras lined the walls, giving the area a most romantic glow. A wooden table was situated in the centre of the room surrounded by chairs; the upholstery of which matched the rest of his decor.

"Of course I have a kitchen." He scoffed. "What did you think I ate?"

"I... No, of course. It's just that all of your rooms are... so well hidden."

"It is alright. I take your meaning. Why I have so many chairs... I will never know. It is not as if I entertain often." He laughed mirthlessly.

"I didn't mean to cause offence..."

"You have caused nothing of the sort. Please." He said, pulling a chair out and gesturing for me to sit.

"Thank you." I said, accepting his hospitality. "So... what is on the menu? If you don't mind my asking..."

"Not at all." He replied; his eyes intent on the task before him, which was currently the chopping of shallots. "Coq au vin. That is quite alright with you, isn't it? I'm sorry, I should have asked..."

"No! It's fine. It sounds delicious."I said. He smiled and turned back to his shallots. I stared at the back of him as he cooked and could not help but grin at the strange sight before me. This mystery of a man was cooking me dinner... and stranger still, he looked quite comfortable with what he was doing. "Do you cook often?"

"I... wouldn't say often." He replied; throwing the shallots into a pot he had set to boil. "There is only me to cater for and I usually find that I am sated with very little. I read a lot though and I have studied cooking. I've never had anyone to cook for. This is nice." He said, turning to me. "Would you like some wine?"

"Yes alright." I said. "If you are having some, that is."

Dusting his hands he selected a bottle from his wine rack and opened it. I had never seen someone operate a cork screw so expertly. He seemed to excel in everything he did...

"Thank you." I smiled as he handed me a glass.

"They say that it is inappropriate to drink red wine with chicken but... in my experience it is never inappropriate to drink red wine."

"Is that so?" I smiled. "I don't drink much wine at all."

"No. I don't imagine that you do. There isn't any harm in it... unless it's before a performance. You must never drink alcohol before a performance, Christine. Do you understand? It isn't good for the vocal chords..."

I nodded. It amazed me that he could still have such power over me... even in such a domestic setting and after we had become so well acquainted. Perhaps that would never change.

Soon, he was done cooking.

"Voila!" He said, setting the meal down before me. I stared down at it in delight. I hadn't had a meal like this in weeks. Things had been so busy for me with rehearsals that when I finally got a chance to have dinner, everyone else had already finished and I had to be satisfied with bread or fruit...

"It looks delicious, Erik. Thank you."

"Go ahead." He said as he sat down across from me and took a sip from his wine glass. I looked across at him and noticed that he had neglected to serve himself.

"Are you not eating?"

"No. I'm not very hungry." He smiled and folded his arms across his chest. "I made it for you! Enjoy!"

"You cooked this all for me? I feel terrible! I told you not to go through so much trouble!"

"Christine, please. Seeing you enjoy a meal that I made for you is much more satisfying. I will eat later if I hunger."

I stared down at the beautifully prepared and arranged meal before me, guilt clouding my every thought. How could I possibly enjoy this by myself? Suddenly, I became aware of the reasoning behind his decision and cursed my ignorance.

"It's... the mask, isn't it?" I asked apprehensively. His eyes narrowed slightly.

"...What?"

"The mask. You can't eat because of it. It's true, is it not?"

He sighed and took another sip from his claret wine.

"Christine, are you not going to enjoy the meal I prepared for you?" He asked calmly.

"Just take it off, Erik. Really..."

"Don't ask that of me."

"I'm not... I'm simply saying that if it serves to be a hindrance and you want to eat, then take it off."

"I would not subject you to that. Please, leave it."

"I'd like to enjoy a meal with you, Erik."

"Christine..."

"Please..?"

He looked up at me, his eyes pleading for my understanding and my patience when I could see that his was wearing thin with every word he spoke.

"I cannot..." He began, leaning forward. "Will you not eat your meal?"

I sighed and realizing that I could not push it any further, I decided to eat.

"I will eat." I smiled. With that he seemed to relax and sit back in his chair once more. He did not speak on the matter but I could see gratitude in his eyes. I needed to earn his trust... and I was more than willing to.

The meal wasn't perfect but I loved the fact that he had made it for me. Upon taking my first bite I could see him watching me intently; waiting for my verdict. I could not help but smile and tell him that it was perfect.

"Thank you for that." I said after I had finished the meal. "I really appreciate you taking the time, the effort to do something like this."

"I would do anything for you." He said; his gaze intense.

I did not know what to say. The intensity of his glare threatened to sap me of any ability to speak, to think coherently. If he knew that he was making me uncomfortable, he would have turned away. But I didn't dare say anything, his temperament seemed so fragile and I feared that if he were to doubt himself in any way, he would withdraw within himself and the evening would be ruined. I wanted to know more of this man I was beginning to discover.

His gaze did not falter. Each time I ventured a glance up at him, he was looking at me; looking through me, seeing me. And perhaps part of me didn't want him to turn away. Perhaps part of me felt somehow comforted; sated in the ferocity of his gaze. Perhaps I wanted to stare back him. What was he thinking? What thoughts were crossing that brilliant mind of his? Just when I was about to look up again; about to meet his gaze, he spoke.

"What would you like to do, Christine?" He asked as he took another sip from his wine.

"...Do?" I faltered. I was having trouble focusing on his words now that I had lost his gaze.

"Yes, do." He smiled. He stood and pushed his chair back before slowly walking to me and looking at me with those eyes once more... "We can do whatever you wish. Anything." He held out his hand and, as before, I took it.

"I don't know..." I said, standing up. Truly, I didn't know. Of course I wanted to spend time with Erik but I knew next to nothing about him. How did he spend his time? How to begin? How did one spend their time with the Opera Ghost...?

"Show me your home?" I offered.

"As you wish." He said.

We began with what Erik called his 'art corner'.

"It's amazing. I didn't notice anything when I was last here..." I walked up to one of his desks which was littered with abject crafting materials, paintbrushes and scraps of paper. "You have so many desks..." I remarked.

"Yes." He spoke from behind me. I could feel his warm breath on my neck and at that moment I wanted him to disregard the question and simply hold me. "...One for painting, one for drafting, one simply for sketching and... one for business."

A smirk hinted at my lips as I was reminded of his 'business.'

"What is... drafting?" I asked; perplexed.

"Architectural drafting... drawing..." He replied, a smile in his voice. I turned to him, awestruck.

"You are so talented!"

He stared at me, a slight smile on his lips. I couldn't decipher whether it was one of vanity or unease from being complimented. Perhaps it was both. I took his hand in mine and continued to explore his world. A number of paintings and sketches were hung from the surrounding walls.

"These... are incredible! Look!" I pointed to one sketch excitedly. "That is l'Arc de Triompe! And the Sienne! And..." I paused as I pulled one painting down from the wall.

It was me.

As soon as I had set eyes on the painting it was snatched from my grasp.

"Hey! Erik! Give it back!" I said; irritated.

"No. You shouldn't have seen that." He said. "I'm sorry... I don't know what you must think."

"It is fine, honestly." I said, my hand on his shoulder. "I just want to see it."

"No, I don't think so. Let's do something else, Christine. How does that sound? Do you like to read? I have a small library over here." He stashed the painting beneath several loose sheets of paper on his desk and began pulling me in the opposite direction.

"You're changing the subject." I said, allowing him to lead me.

"Yes. I am." He admitted.

"Then let me see it!" I smiled.

"Later, alright?" He sighed. "I will let you see it later."

"Alright." I grinned.

"Actually." He began, leading me to a small space next to his organ. "You wait here. I will choose something for you. Make yourself comfortable."

Did he know me that well already? Perhaps he did... if that painting was any indication. I knew what it was... I had seen in clearly before he'd gotten the chance to remove it from my sight but if anything, I was flattered. I was aware of the reservations he had in showing me such a thing; admitting his feelings... I just wished that there was a way of convincing him that it was all right to feel such a way. That it was indeed mutual...

The small space was padded with numerous rugs and cushions and with the surrounding candle light I had to actively resist the urge to fall asleep where I was. Erik's presence was so soothing.

"You might like this..." He began, walking over to me with a book in his hand.

"What is it?" I asked curiously, sitting up. Erik sat down next to me on the rug and handed it to me. I read the title:

Scandinavian Folk Lore.

"Erik!" I gasped excitedly. "My father used to have this book!" He smiled warmly.

"Did he?"

"Yes..." I said, absentmindedly flicking through the pages. "He used to read it to me..."

"Keep it." He said. I looked up at him again.

"What?"

"Keep it." He repeated. "I can see how much it means to you."

"Erik." I said, overcome with emotion. "Thank you!" I wrapped my arms around him and as he slowly returned my embrace, the book was momentarily forgotten... everything was.

"You are very welcome." He said.

"How did you know?" I asked, looking up at him.

"I didn't." He said, staring at the book. "I never knew your father Christine, remember? It is purely coincidence."

"...Yes..." I continued flicking through the book with glee until after a few moments I realized that Erik's arm was still around my shoulder and that he was quite comfortably leaning over me, reading along with me. I wanted to say something; to reassure him in some way so that he would not remove his arm, so that he did not move away.

"This is so lovely." I said quietly. He did not respond.

"Now..." I added.

"What?" He asked, confused. "Now what?"

"It's something I used to say as a child. Whenever a moment was absolutely perfect, I would say 'now'... It meant that that was the moment I would come back to... to relive or revisit if I ever had the chance. Perhaps I felt that it was immortalized just by me saying the word." I laughed quietly. I wanted him to know that this was one of those moments. We were sitting together, reading a book... I was wrapped in his warmth; in his embrace... It was perfect. It was perfectly real and perfectly normal and it felt right.

Again, he did not speak. He simply placed a soft, hesitant kiss on my temple and I could not help but smile. I was aware of how difficult it was for him to perform such simple acts for he had had no experience. I had had very little myself, but I had been in social situations where I bore witness to such things and I had become well adjusted to them. He also feared rejection at all costs. I wanted to say something; to tell him that I wanted him to do it again but I stayed silent, knowing that if I mentioned it in any way, his embarrassment would likely prevent him from doing such a thing again. However, I was well aware that my smile was visible. Slowly I turned to face him and found that he was staring at me with nothing but adoration. Clearly, he had been moved by what I had said.

"You would choose this as one of your moments?" He asked. His blue eyes searching mine as he was only inches from me. I reached up and stroked the left side of his face with my hand, allowing it to trail down his neck to touch the skin usually covered by his cravat...

"I would choose you." I whispered, relishing in the sensation of his warm skin against my own; skin I had not yet touched or even seen before tonight...

It was only when I looked up at him did I become fully aware of the gravity of what I had just said, and the affect it had on him. He had tears in his eyes and he was staring at me with an expression on his face that was somewhere between confusion and adoration. I felt him inhale as I ran my hand back up his neck and gently pulled him towards me.

I was convinced that for the second time, our lips would meet...

And then... He said something strange.

"Yes."

"Yes...? Yes, what..?" I was slightly frustrated at his timing. "What are you talking about, Erik?"

"Yes... to your question earlier." He said, looking down.

"What question?" Then, part of me understood. I had asked him many questions through the course of the night but for some reason I knew to which one he was referring... I felt sick. My chest tightened and I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry for what had been so beautiful, so perfect... for my angel; For Erik... I was hoping against all hope that I had it wrong... that it had to be something else. But part of me knew... part of me had always known.

I had asked him about Buquet.

Let me know what you think, friends!