A/N: See if anyone can find the Alice in Wonderland reference in the third paragraph. I'll give you a hint: it's from the poem at the beginning of the book.

Erik sat in the darkness of his room for some time before finally deciding it best to sleep. He had had a long and rather trying day. Besides all of Christine's confusing antics, he was still feeling the weariness of illness latching hold of him.

Folding himself into his coffin, he braced for sleep. It felt odd to be thinking in those terms, but when it came to rest for Erik, there was very little in the way of soothing dreams or wistful peace. Most of his nights were filled with nightmares which would wake him to his own hard breathing or trailing yells of fright. Some were memories, others simply feelings. It was strange for him to think of being utterly terrified by the vaguest of sensations, but when faced with them in his unconscious mind, he could find no qualm with running from them or shrinking back in unquestioning terror.

Tonight was a bit different, however, as his mind was invaded by memories of days he would much rather forget. The old sound of a whip, never dulled by memory's mystic band, sharply cracked through his mind, scarring the flesh of his delicate subconscious once more. He winced in his sleep, feeling the hot trails slip down his sides as the wound stung with the clean air of the night. How the old names he had been so callously called through the years came picking at him like cuts from a blade. Blades. He felt them score his flesh as the haze of anger, vengeful lust, and reality-warping drugs swept through him. He heard the laughs of the tormentors he so foolishly yet blindly followed, how they jeered at him even then when he was so well respected. Respect through fear was the only way for him. It would never come from…

Her eyes, sapphire blue, sliced through the horrid memories and pains of old. Her laugh, so seldom heard yet forever cherished, washed clean his blackest sins. Her gentle touch, porcelain skin of flawless smoothness akin to velvet toyed at the fingertips so long used to delivering pain and suffering. Her smile warmed the heart he had long forsaken to the follies of man for ever daring to create it along with the rest of him. What good was a heart when no one allowed him to show it? But she did. She allowed him to soar amongst the heavens of happiness only to find his feet right where they had always been. She showed him the wonders his childlike eyes had long matured to ignore. She saw the beauty he so adored and she allowed it to embody her. She was true beauty and he had turned from her.

Sitting up with a start, Erik looked about his room in confusion. He searched the darkness for those enticing orbs of the deepest blue. Seeing well enough, he still found his arms stretched out before him in hopes of catching her hand, to feel that shock that rushed through his every ounce. His ears strained in vain hopes of hearing her song, or even simply calling his name. His name, so seemingly ordinary, sounded almost divine when ushered from her perfect pink lips and sung through her silvery voice. He longed to see his angel, for that was what she was; in form and character.

Flying from his bed on legs that forcefully denied their tiredness, he flung the door open to see the drawing room bathed in darkness. Fear instantly gripped his heart at this odd atmosphere. He hurried to the sofa to see his darling angel laying on her side with her grey dress trickling over the edge of the cushions like a stormy waterfall. Her eyes were closed, though her silvery light still shone from her. Crouching before her, he realised that she was in a state similar to sleep. He knew she did not sleep unless drained of energy from her supernatural abilities, so seeing her this way had startled him.

Running his fingers through the air above the gentle form of her features, he felt all foolishness at his jumped conclusions ebb away. Being in her presence, with the exceptions of their arguments, seemed to bring into him an unusual state of calm. He held back a gasp as she seemed to smile in her somewhat sleep. He wondered if perhaps their row earlier had actually drained her and she was truly sleeping. He felt a pang of guilt over partially causing this distress in her. He thought it odd that he would feel this way over an angel, or anyone, really. For years he had lived without the pesky human limiter known as a conscience, but now, with her, he felt it holding him at bay to be cut through by his harsher emotions. Still, if that was the price he must pay to keep her here, then so be it.

He sat before her, continuing to watch her sleep while he pondered this. When had he become so intent upon her staying? When had he started to need her presence so desperately to remain alive on this earth? He thought of the previous night, or perhaps day when he had attempted to sink into the cold, dark waters that rippled enticingly just outside his home. He had felt as though nothing in the world mattered because he was on his own. Perhaps it was a side effect of growing old. As much as he liked to poke at Nadir over the man's advancing age, he was not getting any younger. His best guess would put his current age at around forty or so. Was it normal for all men to grow lonely as they aged? To long for the company of a beautiful young woman, albeit her being their guardian angel? He scowled at the lecherousness of that thought. He hated the thoughts of man and how one descriptive word intentioned to be a compliment turned him into yet another of the lustful men who disgustingly scoured the streets for the supple bosom of a lovely lady.

Laying upon the floor between the sofa and the coffee table, he stared up at the ceiling, hoping the coolness of the floor would simmer the boil of his blood at the idea of disgusting men taking advantage of the delicacies of youths of the opposite sex. Just because men were generally stronger did not give them the right to force themselves upon one who was smaller and daintier. Though certainly there were some women who were not so ladylike and who flagrantly asked for such debaucheries. Erik sighed, realising that this train of thought would not be ceased simply by a cold floor.

Looking up at the figure stretched upon his sofa, he found himself intricately examining each and every detail of her face. From her pert nose –he remembered her laugh at this descriptions of it- to her long curling eyelashes, she was the picture of beauty. Perhaps this was why the Heavens had sent her to him. Their most beautiful angel sent to look after the most hideous of men. Still, at least he was not one of those horrid beasts he had just been contemplating. Again he glared at nothing for allowing his mind to wander back to that distasteful subject. He counted himself incredibly lucky that Christine had not the power to read his thoughts, for surely she would not understand that he was truly better than all that ran through his ever changing mind.

He heard her hum faintly and stiffened, praying she would not wake up to find him like this. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks as the embarrassment of him being caught on the floor beside her whilst she was sleeping would most assuredly count against him. Thankfully, she simply readjusted slightly without waking. He let out a breath he had not fully realised he had been holding and sat up to observe her.

As always, she seemed the picture of innocent perfection in the incredibly limited light. Were it not for her unearthly glow, there would be no light whatsoever. Not that any of this mattered for Erik. He had always managed to see better in the dark. He imagined most would consider this yet another freak aspect of him, but he cared little for other's opinions at this moment. All he wanted to do was watch Christine sleep for an eternity or two. Her steady and rhythmic breathing soothed him and her faint smile brought a softness to him he had not realised he was lacking. She had done this in excess of late. She had made him understand what he had been missing when spending his life alone. Unfortunately for her, at least in her own opinion, he was more than satisfied to allow her to fill that hole rather than seek out another. Christine's happiness was worth more to him than anyone he had ever met, but perhaps that was part of the flaw. He was not meant to please her, he was simply meant to follow her guidance and find someone more real to satisfy. But, then, the issue that haunted him perpetually came forward once more. His face.

What woman would wish to spend their days with a man like him? Sure, he had talents, but the stigma of the mask would be ever present. No, he would never have any woman or companion for long. He was lucky to have the Daroga come by for his visits. He huffed a laugh at this as he realised he must never admit to thinking as much of the Persian. The game must continue and the persona must be kept up.

Looking back to the peaceful Christine, he realised he learned to accept that she would be the only one truly brave enough to stand his presence. Though for how long, he was uncertain. He worried what would happen should she ever see his face, or…he turned away the thoughts of the envelope Nadir had brought. He had vowed never to tell her about it. He would lose her forever if she knew.

Rising, he went back to his room, safe in the knowledge that Christine was still there and that he had not yet lost his dearest angel.


Christine awoke with confusion buzzing in her mind. She had been asleep. Groaning at her apparent weakness of the previous evening, she sat up on the sofa only to find her eyes firmly locked with the glimmering amber ones of Erik. He sat, his chair turned to face her, legs crossed, and fingers steepled before his thin lips.

'Did you sleep well?' He asked with no real emotion.

'Yes, though I wish I had not needed to. I hope you did not mind my commandeering your sofa for the night.' She looked at him warily, wondering what mood he was in and how this day was going to go.

He waved it off with a shrug before returning his full attentions to her, once again examining every intricate detail of her. She grew modest as she sensed his penetrating stare and hugged her arm, averting her gaze to the floor.

'Did you sleep well?' She asked after a weighty pause.

'As well as I ever do.' He replied nonchalantly. He had actually slept better than most nights, but was not about to discuss the reason why at present; mostly because he was not entirely sure of it himself.

She nodded, hiding her frustration at their conversation going nowhere fast. 'So, I was thinking last night that perhaps you might consider giving the new prima donna singing lessons. That way you would not have to endure the horrid tortures of her lacking technique night after night.'

Erik frowned at this. 'No.' He answered flatly, not liking that she was still trying to have him be rid of her.

'Why not? You are an excellent teacher.' She pointed out with desperate hope in her eyes.

He leaned forward, squinting as if trying to physically see her reasoning. 'Her voice does not interest me as yours does. And besides,' he leaned back with distaste. 'I will not have you leaving me so soon.' He said, watching her brows pucker in distress.

'Erik, we have been through all of this-'

'No!' He shot up from his chair. 'You have been over this. I have simply sat and listened as you vaguely rambled on about the differences in our existence; differences I have never forgotten, mind you. I will not have you leave me. It is my life, and I shall spend it with whom I choose. Now, if you want to leave me because you do not enjoy my company, then I shall not stop you, but until such a time as you express your own desire to never see me again you shall remain. Is that clear?'

She sighed heavily, looking off at nothing before refocusing her eyes on only his general direction. 'You are a stubborn ass of a man.' She muttered.

'So I have been told.' He said in a quieter, yet still hard voice. 'Do you agree?'

'Your being told this? Yes. As to your earlier question,' she continued noting his frustrations rising. 'Do I really have a choice?' She looked up at him in curious defiance.

'Of course. You always have a choice, it simply depends upon whether or not you are willing to see it.' He answered.

'Wise words from the man who keeps turning all of his away.' She glared at nothing.

'Christine, I do not wish to argue with you.' He sighed to try and relieve the growing pressure her disobedience was causing.

'But that is what we do, is it not?' She asked, straightening her posture to show her continuation of her current state of mind. 'We both pretend to be sweet to lessen the pain of our differences.'

'Why are you acting like this this morning?' He asked tiredly.

'Because you still do not understand.' She shouted, rising to her gentle feet in so fluid a motion, Erik simply ignored her words to admire it.

'Christine, I do understand. I know what you find wrong about this, and I know that when you have me do something it is in the hopes that I will forget you, and perhaps it might have worked earlier in our acquaintance, but now…now I know you better.' His tone softened. 'Now I do not wish for you to leave me. I know you are not what most would consider real or even human, but I also know that no one else has preferred my company until you. You are the only woman to ever come close to caring about me and my bony ass.' He smirked as he referred to himself with those words which she and the Persian seemed to prefer. 'I shall not live forever, Christine, and I have no desire to spend what days I have being repeatedly shunned and hurt by the cruel natures of this world.'

'I never wanted this for you.' She admitted to the floor.

'I know, but I do.' He insisted, wishing to have the strength to pull her chin up so that her blue eyes could sooth his. 'It is only with you that I find purpose to anything, that I discover inspiration to continue on with my life. Christine, please, say you will stay.' He found himself pleading with her, but still she refused to look at him. 'Christine.' This time he did rest his index finger and thumb on her smoothly pointed chin, pulling ever so gently upwards so that he could see her beautiful face. Two silvery tear track shone in the light as she looked into his meltingly warm eyes.

'It is wrong, but I know that you will die if I leave.' She woefully acknowledged. Something in his plaintive stare hardened her, though. 'I shall make sure I stay this day, but beyond that, I shall not fight your wandering interests.' She told him firmly.

Breezing past him and out of his gasp, she gained some distance between them and turned to look at him expectantly.

'If you had wanted a weak angel, then I am afraid you shall have to be disappointed.' She told him, making him struggle to hide a smirk at her behaviour. 'What do you wish to do today?'

He graciously smiled downward, enjoying how childish she was, pretending to be grown up. 'I believe a trip to the Opera is in order as my presence has been somewhat cursory of late.' He told her, as she allowed him to return her gesture of remaining tall and steady. She nearly rolled her eyes before nodding in agreement and following him as he gathered up his cloak and headed out the door.


Christine seemed…distant as she and Erik made their way across the underground lake. Still, he could not find it within him to complain as she filled the rocky tunnels with her crystalline voice. She echoed her silvery spirit as she determinedly refused to sit in the boat and instead walked across the glossy ripples of the water. It was times like this when Erik felt he had forgotten to breathe. She walked with long, purposeful strides, appearing in her ethereal form to be more of a ghost, striding across the blackness of the dark lake. Her long curls cascaded down her back in flowing spirals of chestnut silk and her pale skin glowed elegantly. Her eyes, much to his disappointment remained set ahead of her, never once straying to grace him with their deep blue. She continued her song, assuredly making the sirens of old tales jealous of her enrapturing tones.

Watching her and hearing her voice surround him, Erik remembered all of the tales he had heard and read over the years of ghostly women of lakes and moors. He wondered if these apparitions were actually angels, though he doubted any other being could compare to his own seraphim. Surely no other angel could come close to resembling the true perfection that was his Christine.

When they made it to the dock, Erik paused to regard her a moment. She looked at him with confused scepticism for a moment before realising he was offering his hand to her. She hesitated for a moment before gingerly accepting. She tried not to notice the pain that flickered through his eyes at her reluctance. She let him guide her through the tunnels in silence.

Erik's heart sank as he felt her hand slip from his. He took another step before turning to look back at her, half-expecting her to be gone. The sight before him, however, made him even more concerned.

'Christine?' He asked, worry lacing his tone as he saw her cringe at nothing. 'Christine, are you all right?' He took a step towards her, reaching out feebly to do he knew not what in hopes of comfort.

'I am fine.' She waved off before bringing her hand to her pain creased brow.

'Christine-' He took another step forward, mere inches away from taking her arms to support her.

'I said I'm fine!' She snapped, batting at his hands and taking a step back.

'This has happened before.' He said rather than asked, remembering the day they had come up to watch the orchestra's concert. Though it was not quite so extreme, he knew she had felt odd before they had entered the Opera.

'It's nothing, Erik.' She said, breezing past him.

'No, it is not nothing.' He countered, catching her arm and making her stop. He did not have it in him to turn her round to face him. 'Tell me what is going on. Are you ill or hurt?' He pressed. 'Tell me!' He finally snapped after she had remained silent.

'You are going to be hurt.' She muttered.

'What?' He had never thought her one to deliver threats, especially to him.

'I know when harm with befall you. I get this…feeling before something bad happens to you.' She told him, not meeting his eyes until the very last.

'You get premonitions about me getting hurt?' He asked incredulously, eyebrow raised behind the mask.

'Call it what you will, but I just know, all right? Now can we please get out of these tunnels? They make me nervous.' She lied, tugging her arm free and continuing on their path up to the mirror entrance of the theatre above.

Erik followed her quietly as he felt an overwhelming wave of pity wash over him. How many times she must have experienced that pain over the years. He nearly snorted a laugh thinking on her wording of the ordeal. "Something bad happening," yes, he had experienced plenty of that in his life. In fact, that could be the best way to describe his existence. From the moment he was born and probably all the way to his eventual demise, he had been marked under the moniker of "something bad happening." Were it not that it was his Christine who had said it, he would have wondered who on earth knew him so well.

They continued to journey up and through the frostily tinted two way mirror into the vaguely lit room. It was still early in the Opera House as Madame Giry's walking stick could be heard faintly tapping out the rhythm for the ballerina's warm ups, yet no music was playing. The musicians had yet to arrive and the singers were probably only lazily getting out of bed in their own homes. It would be some time before they would have to endure the singer's horrid renditions of the most beautiful music the theatre had to offer.

Christine waved Erik forward to once more lead them through the secret passageways and halls just within the walls of his beloved home. He was stealthy and silent as he swiftly wove around the corners and bends long since familiar to his haunt, only briefly knocking on the walls to startle a few unsuspecting stage hands. He chuckled darkly under his breath as he watched through his many unseen holes to see the person jump slightly or freeze and look about anxiously.

He nearly released a bigger laugh when he practically felt Christine roll her eyes in the darkness behind him. As they travelled up to Box 5, he held out a hand to her as she climbed out of the column in the wall. His lips were twisted into a bemused smirk.

'The Opera Ghost is awake and kicking this morning.' He purred at her with a dark glee shining in his eyes as she took a graceful seat in one of the red velvet chairs and glowered up at him.

'Must you really do that?' She asked, already knowing the answer. 'You are going to give someone a heart attack one day, and then you shall not be laughing.' She told him firmly, casting her eyes out at the stage.

'Oh, won't I?' His voice appeared at her ear. She did not turn but flinched a glare at the gentle breath that stirred her hair. She knew he was too far away to have actually leaned in for such a close whisper.

'I do not appreciate your tricks at present, Erik.' She told him, feeling him behind her as he took a seat.

'And why is that?' He asked, his voice coming from the rail in front of her.

'Because they are rather childish and I am simply not in the mood. If you are so entertained, then why do I have to be here?' She returned, partially over her shoulder.

'It is because you are here that I am so entertained, my dear.' He told her, this time not throwing his voice.

'Why can you not pester Nadir for a change?' She asked after a pause, feeling the sad weight of his words.

'Because,' he sighed heavily. 'The old fart does not amuse me as much as you.' He told her, cocking his head as he looked at her shake hers.

'You are lucky he comes to visit you at all.' She told him.

Again, he sighed. 'Perhaps, but I think it more he wishes to be the first to know when I die so that he might begin celebrating immediately.' He smiled with onyx humour slithering through his tone.

'Nadir's right. You are an insufferable ass.' She muttered, shaking her head once more.

'And you, my dear, are the glorious angel who must dirty her hands with my damnable existence.' He said, leaning forward to whisper it at her ear, itching to play with her luscious curls.

'Erik, you know I did not mean it like that.' She said, actually turning round.

Her heart clenched in her throat as she looked back to find only the shadows of the box. Searching them frantically, panic quickly took her.

'Erik?' She asked of the darkness. 'Erik, where are you?' She searched more fervently, standing from her seat and scanning the box with her wide eyes. 'Please, Erik, I do not know where you are. Please,' she started to plead.

'Tut-tut, my dear. Begging does not become you.' His silky voice echoed whisperingly through the air about her.

'Erik, you know I cannot be too far from you. Please, just tell me where you are.' She explained, feeling her eyes well up and her fingers shake.

'Where would you like me to be?' He asked in his ghostly murmur.

'Please,' she held out her arms before her.

'You scare far too easily, my dear.' He purred just behind her.

She whirled round to see him in all of his looming, shadowy height looking at her with burning eyes. She hated her lip for quivering, but he reached forward and captured her chin gently with his index and thumb.

'Don't do that.' She muttered pitifully.

He sighed stiffly in what she assumed to be displeasure. 'How are you supposed to protect me if you are frightened to tears by my simplest of tricks?' He asked appraisingly.

She held his wrist, not daring to interrupt his touch. He felt a tear spill over to run down between her skin and his thumb.

'Tsk,' he sighed, cocking his head and softening his eyes. 'Christine, you need to decide whether you want me to see you or not.'

She shook her head, closing her eyes. 'It is not that. I know which one I want, but I also know which one you need.' She told him, looking up at him with eyes like the ocean. He felt himself being swept away in them whilst also held in place by her words.

He frowned at his conflicting feelings and let go of her only to snatch up her hand like some kind of prize. He held it aloft a moment before pulling her suddenly yet gently as they left the box.

'Come with me.' He told her as they swept out into the corridor behind the second tier boxes. Pressing on a slight protrusion in the wall, he ushered them into a newly opened passageway in the wall.

Christine wiped clear her eyes as she hurried through the darkness with him. She could feel his cloak billowing out behind him and occasionally brushing her grey skirts. Suddenly, he came to an abrupt stop, causing her to bump into him slightly. With a muffled apology, she looked at the ground, thankful for the lack of light to hide her blush in.

Erik stiffened when he felt her small form crash into his. He refrained from looking back, sensing her embarrassment from where he stood. He was certain those lovely roses were blooming in her heavenly pale cheeks.

He opened a small hatch, pointing towards it. 'Go through there.' He commanded sternly. He sighed tiredly when she looked at him questioningly.

Hesitantly, she went out and he watched her stop a few inches from the portal. She looked back at him with frantic uncertainty in her eyes as he followed, keeping to the shadows on the other side.

They were on the stage in a small, unseen alcove swathed in shadows. Before them twittered and fluttered the white tutus of the ballerinas as they rehearsed for the new production. Christine stood before him in confusion as he looked out at the young dancers.

'Go dance.' He told her with a nod of his head in their direction.

'Why?' She asked, still nervous.

'You say you like to watch them, so go join them.' He explained, growing frustrated by her needless fear. It had already been established that no one but him could see her, so it was not as if she would be caught.

Christine looked across the 21 metre span of the stage and glanced back at Erik. He nodded her forward as she approached the dancers, conveniently arranged more stage right where he was lurking. Finding an empty spot amongst their ranks, she joined in as they began again the rehearsal. Thankfully, Madame Giry was calling out the moves so she could join in without much difficulty.

Erik watched from his murky hiding spot as the tentative young flower of a girl he had just frightened with his absence bloomed amongst the other dancers. She was not built like one of them, and some of the moves were not so natural to her, but she still outshone each and every one of them. It was an acquired skill, he realised, that she had been working through for years. Years she had spent in his unknowing ignorance. As they continued, she broke farther and farther apart from the other girls in spirit and light. Her skills, when compared to the others, made her seem a professional. He wished Madame Giry could see her, for certainly the harsh mistress would find it as breath taking as he.

What truly stole all air from his lungs, however, was when she began to sing. He had heard her do this on the lake with the echo continuing as if praising her talent, but listening to it on the stage took his heart from him. She smiled a glimmering smile like dew on a morning rose, her voice almost painfully beautiful to his ears. He had to stop himself from walking out to her, hoping to claim that sound as his own. He wanted it; oh, how he wanted it. He had never heard something so effortlessly glorious as her in all his life.

When the dance finished, he wished nothing more than to clap as loudly as if in the finale of an opera. He could not give himself away so easily, however. He simply settled with his words, knowing that even they would fail him in describing to the beaming and gorgeous Christine how truly magnificent she was.

'My dear, you could make the Opera itself weep at your loveliness.' He praised, feeling his eyes sparkle at the sight of her and the memory of her voice still teasing his ears.

She looked down, modestly blushing. 'I doubt that, but thank you.' She told him, peering up through her lashes to see his stern smile.

'I would not exaggerate about you, my dear. I have truly never heard or seen something so wonderful in all my days. I only wish you were able to share it with more than just myself.' Though I shall selfishly claim you quite happily. He smiled down at her, once more softening.

'Erik,' she said, making his heart flutter unusually at her utterance. 'W-will you…that is, would you,' she paused looking for the strength to ask. 'Would you show me about the theatre?' She asked, bracing for rejection.

Erik looked at her curiously. 'Is there any part that you have not seen with me already?' He asked, raising an unseen eyebrow.

'No, it is simply that I would like to have you know I was there. A tour, if you will.' She explained.

Erik was puzzled by this request until he realised she had switched back to what she wanted. He smiled mischievously at this corruption he had wrought to her resolve. Offering his arm to her, he looked into her sapphire eyes which only gleaming more as he spoke. 'For you, Christine, anything.'