After Raoul left me alone I sat there for a long time, staring dully at the jagged scraps of paper he had reduced the wedding invitation to.  When I did gather them up my attention was arrested by the largest piece, where I could read the words "the marriage of Mlle. Christine Daae to-" before the mutilated edge obliterated the name of the groom.  The unfinished statement seemed to encompass my months of careless indecision and I allowed my tears to spill onto the paper.  Would Raoul punish me for wishing to keep my word, after Erik had punished me for breaking it?

I can barely make sense of my memories from that hellish night when the chandelier fell and my world was plunged into darkness.  I seemed to have gone delirious with shock and hysteria; at some point I had been desperate enough to bludgeon myself, which did nothing to help my recollections.  But the end...the end is clear and vivid as a vision from heaven: tearful begging for Raoul's release, Erik's cruel, heartwrenching rage as he screamed "I don't want you!"....followed by the fear of a child when I asked what he did want.  And then, understanding....the revelation that it was not a daughter or a child-bride he desired, but a woman.  And suddenly, I knew how to heal the break between us.

The look in his eyes when I asked him to take me beggars all description.  For the first time, I saw hope in that haunted, ravaged visage, and a nervous, weak terror as he bent to kiss my forehead.  In any other circumstance, I might of laughed: he, who possessed power to rival the angels and held men's lives in the palm of his hand, was afraid of me!  But I did not laugh, I drew his lips to mine and told him though my actions that there was nothing to fear; I would not abandon nor betray him, I was his without doubt or question.  When we kissed my skin burned with holy fire, the sort that blazes without consuming, and my heart cried out Yes!  The revelation astonished me and made me hold him even closer, as though our lives depended on physical contact.

How long did it last?  A few moments, an hour, forever...time had neither place nor meaning in that brief, eternal embrace.  It was he who broke away first, stepping back to look upon me with confused gratitude and wonder....which was suddenly replaced by quiet, sad determination.  I didn't try to make sense of that sudden change; my mind was still trying to comprehend what had happened.  Had this been what I feared-this sweet flame that flashed through my veins, making me understand how it felt and what it meant to be truly alive?  I felt like the princess of the fairytale, emerging from the darkness of sleep at first kiss, remembering how to see, to hear, to love...

I was barely conscious of the torture chamber door opening or of Raoul as he stumbled into the room.  Even Erik seemed to be only a vague shadow, though I could not take my eyes from him; I didn't even hear his first words to Raoul.  But then his exquisite voice formed a sentence which cut through my reverie like a knife through a gauze curtain: "I would like you to marry her as soon as possible..."

Marry Raoul?  The words should have filled me with delight, yet I could only feel confused and frightened.  It must be a trick, surely he wouldn't make it that easy, after everything he had done to keep us apart...after I had accepted him willingly.  Yet there he was, addressing Raoul in the manner of a father giving his cherished daughter away to some deserving young man.  I felt like a spectator of the Opera, watching a scene in a language I couldn't comprehend.  When Erik approached me again I opened my mouth to demand explanation-or protest, I never had the chance to find out which.

"Hush," he whispered before I could speak, his hand ever so lightly brushing my trembling lip.  I could only watch in silence as he led me to Raoul and placed my hand in his...and only then did I understand it was real, that he truly meant to let us go.  Through my shock I heard Raoul's promise to bring me back the day before our wedding, saw Erik address that foreign fellow who watched us, all but forgotten in the turmoil...then the door to the drawing room shut with a gentle click which seemed to weigh on my heart like the final closing of a sepulchre.

Raoul led me away in a daze, and I made no protest.  In many ways I behaved as I had when Father died-that same quiet indifference to everything that happened around me.  I couldn't even begin to make sense of Erik's drastic change in behavior, and at length I began to look to myself for the cause.  Had I done something wrong?  Was I too forward when I kissed him, touching him more in that short span than I had in the all the months before?  Could it be that I had been mistaken...that he truly didn't want me?

Those questions, especially the final one, weighed on me with increasing heaviness in the following days until they possessed my waking thoughts entirely.  I ate little and slept less; I behaved as a woman in mourning rather than an eager bride.  Everything around me seemed to remind me of my life with Erik; even my rosary was no comfort, for I could not begin the Hail Mary without thinking of that little man in the Rue Scribe.  And when Raoul insisted that I walk with him in the fresh air and daylight, I could only go a few blocks before the sight of red and white roses in a vendor's cart nearly caused me to collapse... 

Even now, when common sense claimed I should be brooding on Raoul's violent rejection, my confused fears returned to torment me.  Why didn't Erik want me?  Did he finally realize I was too meek a creature to be worthy of his intense devotion?   Would he really care whether or not I returned to him now?  Didn't he need me...as I needed him?

The thought pulled me from my stupor, for I had just confessed a truth that I held even from myself.  I had known for some time that I loved Erik, but until now I had never been able to accept that I needed him, desired him...and more than that, I needed to be loved and desired by him as well.  It was a fact that I had ignored and denied and fled from, and now I embraced it with an open heart.  I had told Raoul I could never wear his ring while Erik lived and I had spoken truthfully...though not for the reasons they and I had believed.  I did love Raoul, and I knew he wanted me desperately...but Erik needed me, and I needed him in kind.  And now, at long last, I accepted it.

My grief had so consumed me I had not even noticed that the day had passed and that evening shadows now stretched through the room which had been filled with light hours before.  I smoothed the wrinkles from my dress, tucked the two keys into my purse and collected my cloak, stopping only briefly to take a mouthful of the food that my maid had left beside me.  For the first time in months I was filled with a sense of purpose: I would go back to Erik and I would stay, if he would have me.  The memory of Raoul's ultimatum made me pause, but only for a moment.  I no longer cared what it cost me, what I risked or how my life would be altered.  I would do what was right....

"Mademoiselle, where are you going?"

I turned to find my maid standing meekly in the doorway.  "Forgive me, I know it's not my place to ask," she continued unsteadily, "but you've been gone so often for so very long, and I don't know where..."

I repressed a sigh of pity.  Poor Anne!  Even if her imagination were not so limited, she could not guess what had happened to me in the past weeks.  "I'm sorry, Anne," I said gently.  "I know I have left you quite in the dark about my activities.  And I must apologize again, but I cannot say where I have been recently, nor can I tell you where I am going now."

"But mademoiselle," she began, then paused before summoning her little reserve of courage, "what shall I tell Monsieur de Chagny when he returns?"

I turned to the door so that she could not see the hard set of my lips.   "If he returns," I stressed, "you must tell him that I have gone out."  I felt a bitter smile come to my face.  "I daresay he will know where."

I left without giving her the chance to respond, hailed the first passing cab and directed him to the Opera, promising double the fare if he could be there in half the time.  I was anxious to confront Erik as soon as possible, though I had no doubt the interview to come would not be an easy one, nor that I might be asked to do everything in my power to earn his forgiveness.  And unlike Erik, I was not proud...If I had to beg for his love, then I would beg.

                                                    *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

 The Opera was nearly deserted when I arrived, having been closed while the damage done by the chandelier was mended.  I unlocked the gate in the Rue Scribe and traced my way through the underground passages unerringly.  The apathy and agitation, which had consumed me the past three weeks, was gone, replaced by iron determination. 

The boat was docked where Raoul and I had left it, and the sight of it induced a twinge of uneasiness.  The lack of food and rest must have taken a toll on my strength, and I was no oarsman....But my reasons for coming hardened my resolve.  I had not expected this to be easy, after all, and the expanse of water before me was the least of my obstacles.  I made my way to the vessel and was rummaging for the oars when a rough hand seized my shoulder, causing me to cry out.  I whirled around and found myself face to face with the Persian.

"Mademoiselle Daae!" he exclaimed, clearly as shocked as I was by this meeting.  "Forgive me, I...was not expecting you..."

"I did promise to return, didn't I?"  I said plainly.  I knew little of this mysterious Oriental, what Erik had revealed of him to me was lost in delirium.  But he had called the man "my friend," and I knew that was not an epithet for one such as Erik to use lightly...or frequently.  I often wondered what strange history had bound them together...

"Actually, I believe it was Monsieur de Chagny who promised," he corrected gently with a quiver of anxiety that caused me to blanch for a moment.

"That is of little matter now," I replied.  "Where is he?"

He dropped his gaze uneasily.  "He....he is...Forgive me, mademoiselle, this is not an easy thing to say.  Perhaps it's best you see..."

He motioned me into the boat and I complied, too unnerved by his cryptic manner to question him.  We made our way across the lake in an awkward silence, and I was agitated to the point of distraction by the time we reached the opposite shore.  I climbed from the boat the instant we docked and fumbled with the lock to Erik's front door, my hands clumsy with anxiety...When the door finally gave way, a soft wail of dismay escaped my lips.

The house was in ruins, furniture smashed, objects scattered...through a doorway I could see the mangled remains of what had once been the pipe organ.  This place, more home to me than my little flat, had been ravaged beyond all repair and recognition, and not by accident-there was thoroughness to the destruction that felt entirely deliberate.  My knees gave way and I sank to the carpet amidst the wreckage, feeling as though it had been my body, not these inanimate objects, which had been broken and violated.

"What happened?" I managed to whisper.  A thousand scenarios formed in my mind, none of them comforting.  "Was there a mob?  Did the Surete come for him?  What was it?"

His heavily lined, olive-skinned face looked on me with sympathy.  "No one has been here," he said quietly.  "He did this himself."

"Why?"

He paused, as if trying to frame his words in the least wounding manner.  "He did not expect you to return...he believed Monsieur de Chagny would take you away and not come back.  And he did not want the evidence of his existence here to remain after...after his death..."

Death?  I shook my head in disbelief.  This had to be some twisted nightmare....it couldn't be real....

"He had another seizure not too long ago.  No, he's not dead," he added quickly, seeing the numb horror in my eyes, "at least, not yet.  But I believe it won't be too much longer before..." he spread his hands in a gesture suggesting the inevitable.

"How much longer...would you say?" I murmured.  My mind was racing, reforming the intentions which had been rendered null by death's implacable approach...

He shrugged.  "I am no physician, you understand, but..." His eyes went distant as he hazarded an estimate.  "I would say twenty-four hours, perhaps."

Twenty-four hours.  One day....One day to mend the damage done by my long weeks of weakness and cruelty, one day to heal a heart scarred by decades of hatred and solitude.

It would have to be enough.  "Where is he?" I demanded.

The Persian frowned.   "It will be very difficult for you, and I know he doesn't like being seen in this-"

"I will see him," I said in a tone that would brook no refusal.

He sighed and motioned toward the door to my room.  "In there," he said.  "He couldn't bear to destroy your possessions, and he thought it appropriate, I suppose..."

His voice trailed off, and I strode toward door, laid my hand on the knob and silently prepared for the worst.

As the Persian had said, my room was exactly as I had left it, but I was too concerned with its occupant to dwell on this.  If it weren't for the mask, I might not have recognized the frail, black-robed figure who lay propped up with pillows on my bed.  He seemed to have aged twenty years in those few weeks, and although I would have thought it impossible he appeared to have grown even more emaciated.  A tear rolled down my cheek, remembering the intense, awesome majesty that had all but deserted my dark angel.  He was reading when I entered, and at first did not bother to glance up from the page.

"Nadir, I told you I prefer to be-"  He raised his head and his eyes flew open with shock and hesitant joy.  "Christine," he whispered.

The sound of my name, spoken by that exquisite, inhumanly beautiful voice, felt like cool water after weeks in the desert, and an onslaught of conflicting emotions caused me to tremble.  Dear God, I had missed him far more than I realized!  "Why didn't you tell me?" I whimpered.  It was a stupid thing to say, but under the circumstances it was all I could think of.

Erik eyed me warily, then cast an accusing glance over my shoulder to the Persian.  "She insisted," the other man said simply, as if that were explanation enough.  Erik's gaze wandered back to me, the momentary happiness in his eyes replaced by a cold, dignified veneer.  I could almost feel him drawing into himself, wrapping his pride around him like another mask, guarding against whatever further harm I could do to him.  Ah, if he only knew...

"Forgive me," he said when he had collected himself.  "I fear I am not prepared to receive you.  I wasn't expecting visitors..."

"I would not abandon you a second time," I said, hurt by his coldness.  He behaved as though I were some irksome relation who had called unexpectedly.  Had I really done the right thing in coming here?

"I had thought...Raoul..."

"Raoul," I said with minor contempt, "does not make it his place to tell me where to stay or where I should go."

"You shouldn't have come, Christine."  His words were short and harsh.

"Why?  Shouldn't I care...what happens to you?"

"This is no place for a young woman in your situation," he replied, turning away from me-a second too late, for I saw the immense pain he had meant to conceal from me.  "You are to be married tomorrow....You should be with-your fiance, celebrating instead of-"

"I have no fiance," I said calmly.  Behind me I heard the Persian's gasp of surprise and Erik turned to face me again.  "Raoul didn't want to bring me back here," I went on, trying to ignore the pain of the memory, "We argued...and he said that if I came here tonight, there would not be a wedding tomorrow."

"And still you...." Behind Erik's cool, civilized manner I began to detect a slight quiver of-something I'd never heard in his voice before.  Hope, perhaps?  "Why, Christine?"

"Can't you guess?"  He remained silent, and I took a deep breath, knowing the moment had come.  "I made a mistake when I tried to run from you.  It seems like that's all I've ever done since Father died-ran from reality, ran from any risk or hope in fear that I would be...hurt again..." I found it increasingly difficult to put my feelings into words.  "I'm sorry, that probably doesn't make any sense..."

"No," he said quietly, staring down at his hands.  "It makes sense."

"That fear nearly destroyed me, and it nearly destroyed....everything I care about," I continued.  "I cannot live like that anymore.  I cannot lie to you or Raoul anymore, and I cannot lie to myself."  I paused, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.  "I want to marry you."

He stared at me for a moment, then began to laugh, a sad, dry sound entirely devoid of mirth.

"Forgive me, my dear," he said presently.  "It's just the irony is rather amusing...I've wanted to hear those words for so long, and to have them come now when it's too late..."

I shook my head.  "It almost is-but not yet."

"Surely you can't expect-"

"It's not too late!  I won't allow it to be!"

It was the first time I'd ever raised my voice to him, and I was surprised as he was.  I knew it wasn't like me to be this assertive, but the thought of all those weeks of wasted time weighed heavily on me, making me stand my ground where I might have once caved in.

I drew near to the bed and knelt beside him.  "Do you want to marry me, Erik?"

"If I could," he said sadly.  "But I still don't see how-"

"I'll show you."  I sat beside him on the bed and lifted my hands to his mask.  He shied away out of instinct, but the mild look of reproach I gave was enough to still him.  He made no further protest as I undid the ties that held the mask in place and freed him from that lifelong prison.  Then I turned toward the Persian-Nadir, rather-who still stood in the doorway.  "Monsieur, I must ask a favor of you," I said, beckoning him forward.

"What do you wish?" he asked, stepping beside me.

I handed him the mask.  "Stand as my witness before God."

"What are you doing?" Erik demanded cautiously.

"Something I should have done long ago," I replied, slipping my hand into his.  "Before this witness and before the High Priest in the Heavens I, Christine Daae, take you, Erik, to be my lawfully wedded husband: to have and to hold, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, till death do us part."

He was trembling, tears running down his sunken cheeks, and for once his voice grew unsteady.  "I Erik, take you, Christine, to be my lawfully wedded wife: to have and to hold, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, till death do us part."  His eyes never left mine but as he spoke, his free hand reached for a small box on which I had not noticed before on the nightstand.  Having finished he broke our grasp long enough to open the box and withdraw the contents, which he slipped onto my left hand.  "With this ring, I thee wed," he whispered, his eyes burning.

I glanced down to my wedding finger.  The ring was an unadorned band of yellow gold, simple and perfect, the way love never is but we always hope it will be anyway.  "Then what God has joined together let no man put asunder," I heard myself say, as I turned my face once more to the intensity of his gaze.  So much love in his eyes, so much desire....feelings mirrored by my own heart....

I kissed him on the forehead, as he had kissed me once, and that simple touch awakened my long-repressed hunger.  I repeated the action countless times, tracing the contours of his temples, kissing the tears from his eyes....I longed to taste every inch of his skin with my lips.  My entire body was throbbing and my clothes felt too heavy; I ached to take him inside me and hold him until neither he nor I existed anymore, but were reborn into a single being....

A polite cough behind me brought me to a halt.  I flushed with embarrassment, realizing I had entirely forgotten about the third occupant of the room.  "Thank you, monsieur," I said to Nadir.  "I would be grateful if you left us now...."

"I understand," the foreign gentleman replied.  There were tears in his eyes, and he was staring at me with a disbelieving wonder.  "But a moment, if you please."  He turned to Erik.  "I don't think we shall see each other again in this lifetime, Erik, so I must bid you farewell.  I am....honored to have been called your friend, and I shall miss you greatly."

Erik reached up and clasped the other's arm in a respectful, yet strangely intimate, gesture.  "Farewell, Nadir," he replied.  "And thank you....my conscience."

After we were alone I turned I studied my husband.  Erik reclined on the bed, held up in a half-sitting position by the mass of pillows and blankets under his shoulders and back.  Once again I was frightened, but this time it was fear for him rather than myself..."How do you feel?" I asked tentatively.  If he weren't strong enough to continue...

He managed a wry smile.  "Remarkably well, for a dying man," he said.  "Better than I have been lately actually, perhaps I've caught a second wind...or my final wind, to be more accurate..."

"I'm glad to hear it," I whispered, closing his lips with mine.  When I finally pulled away he was staring at me with surprise.

"Christine-?"

"Did you think I was playing a child's game with you?" I whispered with amusement.  "I said I would be your wife and I meant it....in every sense of the word."  I slipped my hands over his chest, delighting in the touch of his silken robe through my fingers.

"Christine..."

"Take me," I breathed, barely recognizing my own voice as it burned with desire.

"No." Despite his weakened condition he still possessed strength enough to push us apart, and the cold finality in his voice and eyes sent my soul crashing from its heights of ecstasy.

I folded up in a miserable heap beside the bed, headless of my tears.  It seemed as though my grief was suffocating me; my breath came in short, hysterical bursts and my chest felt as if it would cave in on itself....

"Christine...child, don't cry..."

Child!  No scathing remark could have hurt worse than that well-intentioned term of endearment.  "It's true," I sobbed into the mattress, too ashamed to look at him.  "I had thought you were speaking in anger....but you really don't want me...."

"That's not true!" he said with a fervor that compelled me to raise my head.  He stroked my cheek tentatively.  "I....I just don't want you to do this for....the wrong reasons...."

"You can't still believe I'm acting out of pity, can you?"  I wept.  "Erik, I thought we'd settled that when..."

"No, it's not that," he replied carefully.  "You've been engaged to Raoul for some time now, and you've just had a terrible scene with him....and I can't help but think that anger toward him might be....influencing your actions."

I pulled away from him in exasperation and disbelief.  Was that what he thought this was about?  My God, how could a man as incredibly clever as he was be so thickheaded about this?  "Do you honestly believe I would be that vindictive?" I snapped.

He looked down shamefully, as if fully realizing the implications of his statement.  "I'm not sure what I believe in..." he mumbled.

"You might try believing in me," I cried.  "Erik...how can I make you understand I have no ulterior motive?  Yes, Raoul and I did get into an argument, but that's not the issue.  I didn't come here out of pity or mercy or revenge-I came because this is what I want!  I want to stay here; I want to hold you for as long as I can.  I want to be with you, Erik, why do you have to make it so difficult?  Can't you just accept that?"

He was staring at me with the wary fear of an animal that fears a trap, and I understood.  "Oh God, you really can't accept it, can you?"  I whispered brokenly.  "You're so used to hatred and deception you can't believe in anything else."  I was still crying, in part for myself but mostly for him.  I dared not think of how many times he might have been denied happiness simply because he lacked faith in others, and in his own worth....

"Christine...come here."

The aura of power had fled his body, but his voice still retained that gentle yet irrevocable tone of command.  I found myself crossing the room to sit beside him, allowing him to guide my head to his shoulder and encircle me in a fatherly embrace.  "I'm sorry," Erik whispered, his breath sighing through my hair in a teasing caress.  "I know it is not in your nature to be vengeful, and it was unkind of me to suggest that you would be so.  And I do want to believe in you, in....what you offer me."  He tilted my face toward his, and we were so close all I could see was his eyes and the edge of what for lack of a better term was his nose.  "But you are dearer to me than my own desires," he continued firmly, "and my soul would never be at peace if I allowed you to do something you might regret later."

"The only thing you could make me regret doing tonight would be allowing you to push me away like this," I said passionately, drawing my fingers up to his cheek.  "Erik, please....don't block me out; don't try to make excuses for denying what we both desire.  I know you're trying to do what's best for me....but we only have a very short time to spend together, and I don't want to waste your last hours in this senseless arguing.  Please...please don't die without fulfilling our love."

He drew in a sharp breath.  "Did you just say-our-" he choked.

I managed to smile.  "Yes, Erik.  I love you.  I loved you the moment I heard your voice, and I don't think I ever stopped."

He gave a shuddering sigh.  "I love you too, Christine."  He laughed weakly.  "I've never told you that before, have I?  It's strange...they're such simple words, perhaps the simplest in the world..."

"Erik..." My voice was tremulous with anticipation.  "I am a little frightened....This is all very new to me, and I'm not entirely sure what to do...."

He stroked my back in a gentle, soothing sweep that made me shudder gleefully.  "I'd teach you, my dear, only...I'm rather new at this myself..."  It might have been a trick of the light, but I'll swear his deathly pale skin was tinged with a blush.

"Then we'll have to learn together."

"I suppose we must."  And then all the walls, all the barriers we had built up between each other were finally down and he was kissing me with more passion than I had ever dreamed possible.  His hands were deftly loosening the ties to my dress and I found myself plucking at the sash to his robe....I breathed his name with fierce joy as his lips traveled the curve of my neck, caressing my newly bared shoulder....

"My wife," his voice crooned in my ear, and then there were no more words, just the sound of our hearts beating in rhythm to the oldest duet known to man.

                                                    *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

I prefer not to relate what occurred in the hours that followed-my heart would prevent it even if propriety did not.  The memories of that night are sacred to me; they have warmed me in quiet hours and made me smile in unguarded moments.  The years have come and gone as they must, but every time the house is still and I sit alone by the window gazing at the night sky, I remember Erik and what we shared on the first and last night of our marriage.

I awoke some time later to find myself still wrapped in a cocoon of blankets and Erik's tender embrace.  He lay so peaceful and still that I might have thought him dead, but my head was pressed against his chest and the drumbeat of his heart reassured me that he still lived.  My present state was so comfortable, so natural, that part of me began to wonder why I had spent so much energy avoiding it.  I held back tears at that thought-if only I'd realized sooner, instead of now when he hovered so close to death....Yet in my heart there was a feeling of quiet joy; our love was now complete and even death could not take that from us.  I snuggled close to him, contented as a cat....or most cats, I amended as my gaze traveled the room.

Erik's Siamese was sitting on the dresser, staring at us sullenly as if she no longer questioned my place there but reserved the right to be unhappy about it.  I felt a little smug at that-how often had I imagined she held superior position in his heart?-but at length her sulking began to intrude on my felicity.  I reluctantly removed myself from the cradle of Erik's arms, noting with a pang of fear that he did not stir as I drew apart from him.  As I slipped my clothes on I gazed about the room with an odd nostalgia.  I found myself recalling the first night I had awoken there; strangely enough, I had not been afraid as might be expected upon finding myself in a strange place.  Perhaps it was the memory of his voice soothing me into a waking dream, calling me towards the mirror that calmed me, perhaps it was the exquisite music which I heard in the next room: music which had drawn me to his side and filled me with a desire to see my Angel's face....

If I had not removed his mask that day, would we be here now?  I could not say, and at any rate it hardly mattered.

As I gazed about my room, I felt a sudden desire to take some keepsake with me-a small part of this place that I could cherish forever.  There were several dozen little knick-knacks and whatnot I could have chosen, but I discarded them out of hand; it had to be something special, something that held more than just physical value.  My hand trailed across my stack of opera scores, and it struck me.  Of course!  What better way to remember my time in Erik's home than with the music we had so often shared?

There was any number of cuttings that would have been appropriate, but inevitably I found myself turning to that fateful scene in Aida.

In your arms I wished to die....I felt as though I had died in his arms that night-died and reborn, like the phoenix of old.  I knew I could never be the timorous, frail child I had been when I first heard Erik's voice.  Strange....if I had been told six months ago-if I had been told two months ago-all that would come to pass in my life, I would have dismissed them as a madman....

I had finished clipping the recitative from my score and tucking it safely in my purse when a stirring turned my sight back to the bed.

"Christine...?"

His voice quivered with fear and I hastened to sit beside him and take his hand.  His eyes fluttered open and fixed on me with wonder.  "It wasn't a dream...."

"No, my husband," I said fondly, showing him the ring on my finger.  "It was very real."

He managed a tired smile.  "So beautiful," he murmured, tracing my cheek with his hand.  "Part of me could live forever, looking at you...at the love in your eyes....But as it is,  I can die contented...."

I bit my lip.  "No," I whispered, half to myself.  "It's too soon...."

He shook his head against the pillow.  "No, Christine.  It's time....I can tell."  He lay quiet for a moment, as if that brief dialogue had fatigued him entirely.  "Would you do something for me?"

"Anything," I said fervently, "anything you wish."

"Take Ayesha with you, when you go," he said, motioning to the cat.  "I don't mean to trouble you, only I couldn't leave her to fend for herself and I know Nadir can't bear cats..."

"It's no trouble at all," I replied, surprised by the simplicity of his request.

"Not for you, perhaps...but I'm afraid her presence may disturb Monsieur de Chagny."

I froze-I hadn't even thought about Raoul since last night.  "Surely you can't believe-"

"That he'll forgive you?  My dear, if he doesn't he's a greater fool than even I took him for."  He patted my hand paternally.  "Of course he'll forgive you.  If he loves you even half so well as I do, he would forgive you anything.  You must forgive him too," he added, as I looked away guiltily.  "Isolation is a cruel and empty existence, Christine....You're far too good to live alone.  Promise me you won't cut yourself off...as I did."

I managed to accede, and he closed his eyes with a weary sigh.  I sobbed, thinking he had left, but his lids lifted again.  "No, not yet," he said, guessing the source of my terror, "but soon."

I swallowed hard.  There was too much I had to say, and I knew I would not have another opportunity.  "Erik, I'm sorry....I'm sorry for the way I treated you....all the times I gave in to my cowardice...."

"Don't be," he said with quiet firmness.  "It was mostly my fault, anyhow....I know I'm not the easiest person in the world to get along with...."

"All the same, if I hadn't ran when-"

"Shhh."  He pressed his hand to my lips, and his eyes shone when I kissed his fingertips.  "Do you remember when Meg Giry dragged you into the auditorium....and convinced you to sing for the Opera Ghost?"

"Yes," I replied, trying to be brave.  "You did hear me, didn't you?"

"I did."  His long fingers stroked my hair consolingly.  "There were times when I cursed that day, the day I became aware of your existence, but I'm happy now....I'm glad I was there in the auditorium when you sang.  You gave me something to live for....you made me hope and dream when I thought I had forgotten how to do both.  And then you saved me....I was at the gates of Hell that night...the night you kissed me.  I had forfeited every right to your forgiveness...and still you forgave me, you rescued me from that pit with your compassion and showed me the way....And now...when I thought you had given me everything you could...you love me...you've given me...far more than I had ever imagined."  He cried a single tear, pure and perfect as a diamond.  "You were worth waiting for, Christine Daae."

It became harder to control my emotions in his presence, and so I quit trying.  I thought I had been prepared for this....I had known he was dying, after all.  And yet...sitting there beside him, watching the flame of his life grow dimmer, sent the cruel reality of the situation home with more force than I could bear....

"You're crying," he said with faint astonishment.  "My love...you mustn't cry for my sake.  For fifty years...I have hated this body...this face which I was given at my birth.  And now, at last...I shall be free of it."

"Then I must cry for myself," I said, clinging to his hand.  "Erik...my soul....what shall I do when you leave me?"

"I won't."  His voice had become a bare whisper.  "Remember...what I told you...before the gala....I shall be with you all the time.  Even when you can't see me...or hear me...I will be with you."

I think I smiled at that, and I bent to kiss him one long, last time, memorizing the curve and texture of his lips.  "I love you, Erik."

"I love you, Christine."  And he closed his eyes.

It was very peaceful, in the end.  I sat there for hours as he lay asleep, the rise and fall of his chest growing slower and more labored....It was perhaps fifteen minutes after his final breath when I realized that he was gone.

I rose with an aching sigh, and covered the body with a sheet without bothering to look once more upon his face-for what is the body but the mask of our soul, an object to be used for a time and discarded when we no longer need it?  The sorrow had not left my heart, yet I did not cry; rather, I felt a sort of weary peace, as though I had come home after a long journey.  Erik and I had finally acknowledged our love, shared one pure, perfect moment untainted by anger, violence or fear....My only regret now was that his pride and my cowardice had prevented it from coming sooner.

I collected my things, gathered Ayesha-who for once made no protest-into my arms, and took one final look around my home.

"Au revoir, my angel," I whispered to the air, and for a moment I felt-or thought I felt, or remembered-his lips against my cheek.

Then I left the room and shut the door behind me.

                                                    *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

I wasn't entirely surprised when I saw Raoul waiting for me-I knew he could easily guess where I had gone the night before and it was only natural that he would pursue me if he believed I was in danger.  He didn't bother to look up or even move as I entered, but sat there on the remains of Erik's couch with an impotent anguish.  Nadir, on the other hand, rose in my presence, his eyes echoing my grief.  He approached me and for a long time we stood gazing at each other: two strangers bound together in our mourning for the extraordinary man whom had shaped our lives.  Then he took my hand gently and led me to Raoul's side. 

Raoul rose as we drew near, and I couldn't help but be touched by the concern and confused pain in his eyes.  He stared at me like a child trying to solve a particularly difficult riddle, and his sad tenderness convinced me that Erik had been right: we would forgive each other.  Ayesha hissed at him as he lay a guiding hand on my shoulder-a portent of the animosity that would grow between the two of them over the years-but there was no other sound between us as he led me away from the house or as we rode in his carriage back to my apartment.

It was he who spoke first, as we stood before the door of my flat.  "I'm sorry, Christine," he said plainly.  "I spoke in anger-I had no right to attempt to force you-" He floundered for a moment before gazing at me with profound contrition.  "If you still wish it...I could speak with the priest...."

"Raoul..." I spoke to him with almost motherly calm.  "I do want to marry you still, but...I think we should postpone the wedding."  His dumbfounded silence pressed me to continue.  "You and I have been through a lot these past weeks.  I need time to think, and I believe you do as well...and I want you to be sure, Raoul, quite sure, that you can forgive me first."  There was another reason, of course....In my heart I considered myself a widow, and though Erik had blessed our union I could not marry Raoul so soon after his death without feeling disrespectful.

He agreed without a word against my suggestion, and we tentatively settled on a date one month away.  Then he took his leave with a chaste kiss, and I entered my apartment alone.

Anne must have retired for the night, for there was no sound or light in the room as I came in.  The place seemed lonely and quiet, as it always had when I returned from visiting Erik, but this time the silence seemed even more pressing.  I sat for a long time, gazing at the gold ring on my finger, taking careful note of its touch on my hand, the color against my skin, the gleam as it reflected the lamplight.  Then very carefully, I removed it at tucked it away in a small drawer in my jewelry box along with the clipping I had taken from my Aida score.

Meanwhile, Ayesha had taken in the fact that she was in unfamiliar surroundings, and she began to wail, a sad, empty-sounding cry that resonated in my heart.

"I know," I said aloud, looking down on her with pity.  "I miss him too."

                                                    *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Over the next several days Raoul and I carefully tested the ground of our relationship and, finding it had somehow survived the near-catastrophe that had enveloped us, renewed the plans which my love for Erik had abruptly aborted.  I busied myself with settling my little affairs: pulling up my few roots, finding a tenant to take on the lease of my apartment, tasks which helped me cope with the changes in my life.

And I began to realize my inheritance from Erik might include more than a ring and his cherished pet....

It was two and a half weeks after his death when I began to notice those signs which tell a woman she carries a new life within her.  Filled with a mixture of trepidation and joy, I told Raoul I desired a few days alone in the countryside.  He agreed reluctantly; even with my solemn vow to return I believe he was still half-convinced I would abandon him.  I did my best to reassure his fears, then took a train to a small town several miles outside of Paris where I knew nobody would recognize me.

Adopting on the guise of a married woman, I consulted with a local physician, who quickly confirmed my suspicions.

"It's the most likely cause, Madame," he said upon giving his diagnosis, "though not the only possible one.  If it is a child, you're very early in your confinement; I would need a few more weeks to be entirely certain...."

But I didn't.  "It's a child," I said simply.  "I know it is."

On the train home I sat alone gazing dreamily out the window and stroking my abdomen with peaceful delight.

I was going to have a child.  Erik's child...the knowledge charmed me to no end.  It seemed right that our brief union should bear fruit.  I could almost picture him or her as I closed my eyes: his boundless genius and dignified air, my unmarred features and quiet temperament.  A child who would win the acclaim its father had been denied in life, who would be a lifeline to my past even as Raoul and I faced the future together....

Oh, God-Raoul.

I turned away from the window shamefully, cursing my selfishness.  Raoul would be heartbroken when he found out.  He might still marry me-if only to spare me the shame of bearing what he and the rest of the world would call a bastard-but he would never trust me again, his pride could never be reconciled to the fact that I had hidden the full measure of my relationship with Erik from him.  Even if he did forgive me, I had no doubt that my child would suffer from whatever enmity he still bore the sire.  When I told him, it would be the final deathblow to any hope we had of making a happy marriage.

So why tell him at all?

The idea was wicked, deceitful...yet the more I thought about it, the more it seemed the best and only solution.  Raoul and I would be married in less than a fortnight, and then who would say that the child had not been his all along?  He would have a son or daughter whom he would undoubtedly be proud of, my child would have a loving father and a home untainted by bitterness or festering anger.

It wasn't perfect, of course...I hated lying to Raoul, even to spare him the pain which the truth would cause.  I also couldn't help but feel that I was cheating Erik, denying his claim in my child's life and whatever redemption he might receive from his offspring's glory.

He did not want the evidence of his existence here to remain after his death...

No, Erik would not mind.  His life had been one of loneliness, misery, and hatred because of an accident at his birth.  I knew he would not wish the same fate on his only child.

So there really was no other choice.

My child would bear the Chagny name.

                                                    *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

I had always known it would be difficult keeping the truth about my pregnancy from Raoul-the very nature of the condition indicated that.  But fate appeared to conspire against me from the first, when (in a perverse irony Erik would no doubt have appreciated) Raoul arrived at my apartment on the morning of our wedding to find me with my head over a bowl.

"I'm all right," I said when he inquired about my health, "Just nerves, that's all."

He continued to study me with concern as I handed the bowl to Anne-who was under strict orders not to reveal that I had been repeating that little performance for the past several days-and drank some water to rinse the acidic taste from my mouth.

"If you're not sure about this, I understand," he said hesitantly.  "I know I've been very difficult lately..."

"No, Raoul," I said with mild amusement.  Did all men believe themselves unworthy of the women they loved, or just those who cared for me?  "I can't forget what...what happened in the past, but I can't let the past cripple me, the way it did when Father died."  I took his hand.  "I'm ready to move on now...with you."

And so Raoul and I were married in the privacy and simplicity that befitted our mismatched social backgrounds and desire to remain out of the public eye, and the next day we left to start the new chapter of our life in England.

                                                    *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

I waited another two months to tell Raoul I was going to have a baby, by which time I was so certain of the fact that my visit to the doctor was largely for show.  He reacted with such boyish exuberance that my lingering guilt was easily placated; I knew I had made the right decision.

But again destiny seemed determined to disrupt my carefully laid plans, for as the pregnancy developed so did a number of disconcerting complications.  I've always had a delicate figure, charming in appearance but unfortunately not built to bear a confinement.  The difficulties increased until one night, roughly half a year after Raoul and I had wed, I collapsed at our dinner table in the first of many fits.

I spent the next several weeks bedridden and sedated, I ceased to become aware of my surroundings and of the passage of time.  I know I never left that darkened room in which I was cared for; yet at turns I imagined I was on a tiny cot in Sweden being nursed by Father through some childish malady; I was lying on the leather couch in Erik's room as he tended to my cold or stoically wiped blood from my injured brow....

My body felt as though it were being crushed by its burden; I could feel darkness creeping upon me and Raoul was nearby begging me to hold on but I was too tired, too tired to fight or do anything but surrender to the approaching oblivion....

                                                    *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

My first impression was I was in a tunnel, though I had no sensation of walls around or even ground beneath me.  Perhaps it was the light that induced this thought: brilliant white light that shone as if from the end of a tunnel, which I could look upon without pain though it beamed brighter than the sun.  Warmth and peace and perfect, unconditional love washed over me, welcome comfort after the weeks of pain.  I was drawing nearer to the light without knowing how-perhaps I walked, perhaps I flew-and as I approached I began to discern a shadow amidst the radiance.

I knew him at once, of course.  That powerful, magnetic air was exactly as I had remembered it, and the familiar silhouette of his flowing cloak and wide-brimmed hat bespoke his identity even before I came close enough to see the mask.

"Christine," Erik greeted me with a cordial bow as though we had only been separated by a few hours rather than by time and space itself.

Despite the overwhelming serenity I felt a discord of fear, for I knew his presence indicated only two possibilities.  "Am I dead...or dreaming?" I demanded cautiously.

"Neither.  Or perhaps both," he added with a thoughtful tilt of his head, "I suppose it depends on how you look at it.  I believe 'in between' is the technical term."

In between life and death..."Then you've come to take me away?"  I said quietly, saddened but determined to face my fate courageously.

"No...I've come to send you back."  I could only stare with surprise.  "It's too soon, Christine; your work is not done yet.  They still need you back there."

"And you don't?"

"I do."  He seemed amused and flattered by my mild peevishness.  "But that's different.  I have eternity...I can afford to wait.  Raoul needs you now."  For the first time I heard him pronounce that name without any contempt or bitterness.  "And someone else needs you as well...."

Distantly, yet somehow very close as well, I could hear crying, the keening wail of a newborn.  The baby...  "Our baby?" I queried.

His eyes shone with love and unmistakable pride.  "Yes, Christine.  Our child needs you.  You wouldn't leave him, would you, allow him to grow without knowing his mother's love...?"

"No...of course not."  He was right, I knew.  I didn't resent his gentle dismissal, yet I couldn't help but feel a lingering frustration.  The mask felt like a wall between us, muffling his voice and barring me from truly seeing him...

"Something troubles you."

It wasn't a question, and it didn't even occur to me to deny it, as I knew I could not lie in this place.  "Why the mask, Erik?" I implored.  "You should know by now that...it doesn't matter..."

"I know...it's just that..."  He sighed and drew the mask away from his face.

My eyes widened, then I laughed with joyful surprise.  Of course...how could it be otherwise?  Surely in the next world, if there were no illness, infirmity, or pain...then surely there wouldn't be any deformity either....

"I was afraid you wouldn't recognize me," he said, an embarrassed smile spreading across the features of an angel.

"How could I not recognize your soul?" I chided him gently.  I reached out to him, but a guilty thought made me pause.  "I didn't tell Raoul...about the child, I mean..."

"I know...it's all right, I understand."  He regarded me fondly, then his eyes unfocused as if he were heeding some inner voice.  After a moment, he nodded severely.  "It's time to go back, Christine."

"Then...I guess this is goodbye..." I mumbled.  The interview had seemed far too short, and who knew when I would see him again....

"For a time," he admitted.  "But we will be together again, my love...you have my word on it."

"I can be content with that," I replied.  "Goodbye, Erik."

"Goodbye," his voice followed me as I fell back into the surrounding darkness, "Until then..."

                                                    *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

When I opened my eyes again I still lay in my room, which was filled with the calm, ordinary glow of midday.  My head was pounding and I felt as if I'd been eviscerated.

Had it been a dream?  It was likely...I had seen many things that could not be in that sedated state I'd been kept in.  Yet unlike most of those vague imaginings this vision had been vivid, a sunburst of clarity through the cloudy half-stupor of the past weeks.  I could remember every detail; the warmth of the divine light, the deep, abiding peace and comfort, the love in Erik's eyes as his healed form looked upon me...

"Welcome back."  Raoul's voice beside me intruded on my musings.

I gave a faint moan in response and dragged my hand across my belly.  The telltale swelling had gone, and I winced as my groping fingers encountered a curve of sutures.  "The baby..." I managed to rasp.

"Alive and healthy.  The cesarean was performed a few days ago.  You had us worried there for a while, but the doctors are convinced you'll recover fully."  As I studied him I noticed he seemed changed somehow; the absolute adoration that he always looked on me with was still there, but now it was matured with worry, sadness, and...something else, a sort of wistful regret.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, confused by the pain in his glance.

"It's nothing.  Just some...preventative measures that Dr. Lister was discussing with me.  We'll talk about it later."  He lay a tender kiss on my forehead.  "If you think you're strong enough, there's somebody I think you should see."

He helped me to a seated position, and upon reassurance that I would be fine, went to retrieve my son from his cradle.

"I'd like you to meet Charles de Chagny," he said as he placed the babe in my arms.  "A son, Christine."

Charles...it hadn't occurred to me when I was considering names for the child, yet it seemed oddly appropriate as I gazed upon the fragile creature in my arms.  His bright eyes looked out at me from a face that was smooth and natural as any newborn's-a fact which, I will confess, did cause me a measure of relief.  Already I could perceive a quickness of mind and deep sensitivity in that infantile stare.  If those traits were nourished and treasured, instead of repressed and twisted, there would be no limit to what he could accomplish...

It was then that I realized I'd known the child was male before Raoul had ever told me.

Our child needs you.  You wouldn't leave him, would you...

I could have easily dismissed it as coincidence, a fortunate premonition...yet a familiar electricity ignited the air around me, and I knew I had not been dreaming.

"Well, my dear?" Raoul said, sliding a loving arm around my shoulders, "What do you think of our son?"

Our son.  "He's perfect," I answered with sincerity, smiling as I basked in the devotion of two men who loved me far better than I deserved.