A/N: Sorry if my tenses are a little weird. I haven't written in a while and I'm still figuring out which is most comfortable. I do not own Phantom of the Opera. I just play with them for my own amusement.

Christine's POV:

We had been rehearsing for a couple of days now and things have been going great. I've been having lots of fun and the rest of the cast is amazing. Tonight I'm going out to dinner with Erik. He came up to me after rehearsal yesterday and told me that he wanted to take me out to dinner to discuss my character.

I hear the doorbell ring and answer the door. Erik is standing there looking handsome as ever; my breath catches. He holds out a single red rose to me. I take it, and for a moment I have that feeling again. That strong feeling of déjà vu.

"You look lovely Christine." He says.

"Thank you." I smile, placing the rose on a table in my front hall. "So, where are we going?"

"A small little restaurant I like, it's a surprise." He offers me his arm and leads me out to the street. I was expecting us to get into a cab, but he just starts walking down the street.

"Where is it?" I ask.

"Not too far." He replies. "It's just a short walk from here."

He was right. We had only been walking for about ten minutes when he stops in front of a lovely looking Italian restaurant. He leads me inside and we are immediately seated in a quiet corner in the back.

"What can I get you to drink?" Our server asks, passing us the menus.

"I'll just have water, thanks." I say.

"I'll have the same." Erik adds.

The server nods and walks away.

I pick up the menu and start looking through it, so many good-looking choices. After debating for a moment I decide on the lasagna.

"Are you ready to order?" The server places our drinks on the table.

"I think so." Erik says. "Christine?"

"I'll have the lasagna with garlic bread please." I hand him my menu.

"And I'll have the chicken alfredo." Erik hands him his menu as well.

"Very good." The server walks away.

"So, how are you liking the play Christine?" Erik asks me, steepling his fingers together. "Everyone being nice?"

"Oh yes." I reply. "I love the story and everyone has been just lovely. Especially James." I smile.

He nods. "Yes, James has sort of installed himself as the older brother to the entire cast." He chuckles.

"He's very good at making me feel comfortable on stage."

"You've been nervous?" He asks.

I blush, a little embarrassed. "A little. I've never played a romantic lead before." I explain.

"Here you go." The server has returned with our dinners and sets them in front of us. We nod our thanks and he leaves.

"Understandable, I'm glad he's being a help to you. If you two weren't comfortable with each other it would be very hard to portray the romance."

"That's another thing I'm a little worried about." I say.

"Why's that?"

"I'm not sure how well I can portray that." I looked away from him, suddenly too aware of the palpable tension between us. "I've never been in love before." I say quietly.

He gives me a soft, friendly smile and takes my hand. "Christine, you were born to play Marguerite."

I felt a chill go up my spine. Images start flashing in my mind. Memories, of a life that's not mine and yet is at the same time. An opera house, we were putting on Faust then too. A man named Richard, chasing me romantically. Oh, how I wish I could have had the courage to say no then. Reflecting, I realize that I couldn't, not really. Women didn't do that back then. Then I saw Erik, but he was different. He was my teacher, his face was scarred and people were frightened of him. I wasn't, but I never got to tell him. Then I was falling, and back in the theatre from the present. I gasped. That's what happened in the theatre that day. I came back. My eyes widen as I look at Erik. He's got a worried expression on his face.

"Christine, are you all right?" He asks.

I can't respond. I don't know how to, knowing what I know now. I just stare down at my hands, my thoughts reeling. I hear Erik asking for the bill off in the distance.

"Christine." He takes my hand and puts his other arm around me.

I feel warm in his arms, like I'm meant to be there. That does nothing for my mind though. I can't process anything; it's all a mess in my head. Before I know it, we're back at my apartment and he's walked me to my door.

"Christine, is something wrong?" He asks again. I think he may be hoping that I'll come out of it now that I'm home.

"No, nothing's wrong." I reply quietly. "Thank you for the lovely evening." I walk into my apartment and close the door.

I sink to the floor, my back against the wall and start to cry. Nothing makes sense anymore.

A/N: Please R&R!