Erik

"Christine?"

Christine did not reply, she seemed deeply asleep.

I stroked her shoulder in the hopes of waking her up. She stayed immobile and asleep.

"Christine?" I asked again, gently moving her shoulder back and forth.

When she did not reply, I took her arm and checked her pulse—It was there, a steady rhythm assuring me my love was alive.

So why did she not awaken?

How could she be so tired? Did she not sleep well? Was she ill?

"Christine, Angel? Are you quite all right?" I asked. I finally received a response from Christine; albeit a nonverbal one, "Mmm?"

"Christine, will you awaken for me?" She groaned twice then her eyes opened drowsily.

"Are you quite all right, Christine?" I asked, stroking her cheek. "Not really. I am completely exhausted. Erik did you know you talk in your sleep?"

My eyes widened. What had she heard? Did she think me insane? What did I say?

I spoke slowly, "What did I say?"

She looked up thoughtfully, stifling a yawn, "First you said my name urgently, which had me next to you in an instant. Then you said something about not wanting me to leave. You were all distraught and broken. It took me at least fifteen minutes to calm you down! I do not know why you have such horrid dreams, Erik!" She exclaimed. I did not let myself relax, not yet. "Anything else?"

"Yes. You were quiet for the next few minutes, letting me observe you sleeping semi-peacefully. Erik you are so pretty when you sleep, did you know that?" She paused and looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. I should have let her go back to sleep, but found I could not; I had to know what I said! "I did not know that..." I mumbled, embarrassed. "Well, you are! Then, you told me, 'Christine, if you love an earthly being, I must go away to Heaven and never return.' Why is that? Were you reliving a memory or something? And if you were, why would you relive that of all memories?" She asked. "When I talk in my sleep I never remember what I have said." I explained. "That's how I am when I sleep-talk." Christine replied. I waited for her to continue. "I sat there in the darkness, waiting for you to continue talking. I should have tried to fall asleep again, but honestly I couldn't. I did not want to miss a word you would say. Is that crazy of me?" "No. I would do the same, in your position." I answered automatically. Which was true. I never wanted to miss what my Angel had to say, whether she was awake or asleep.

"You stay up all night and listen to me jabber away at nothing do you?" She teased. "I would not call it 'jabbering', Christine. You are far too lovely for such a tactless term." Christine blushed. " I am sure you are right," She giggled, sounding like she did not believe me, " Anyway, then you said, 'That is right,Christine! It is true! I am not an Angel, nor a genius, nor a ghost! I am Erik!' I honestly do not know where you get that from! You are an Angel, and a genius! I think you're a man, though....Or have you been lying to me about that? Are you really a Phantom?" She teased, tapping me on the chest as if to make sure I was, in fact, a real human man. "I am almost certain I am not a ghost....I think.." I laughed with her. She rolled her eyes playfully at me. "Very funny, Monsieur. However, if you are not a man, what am I to do? I can only be friends with a ghost!"

That froze me in my place. What did that mean? Did she love me?

I would have asked her, but I was scared. What if she said she did not?

"Is that all I said, Christine?" "No. Then you started saying these odd things, like, 'You shall never see Erik's face!'" She looked adorably puzzled. I froze. Did I dare hope that she thought I was only mumbling stupid things in my dream? "That was not the craziest thing you said, Erik. Not by a long shot. I am so, so sorry about taking your mask off." She apologized, stroking my face. I sighed against her touch, how did she not know what she did to me? Was it not obvious?

"After you said that, you went on a tirade about composing and how once your Don Juan was finished, you'd go into your coffin and die. Oh Erik! Promise me that isn't true!" She pleaded, pulling me closer. "I promise," I vowed in a breathy whisper. She seemed satisfied at my response. "You seemed to think that no one would miss you, and I told you that I would, that I would miss you. I couldn't bear it if you died on me!" She cried, grasping my shoulders tightly and pressing her face against my shoulder. She shook herself and sat up again, "The next thing you said confused me, for it was obviously a sentence fragment. Would you mind telling me, if you remember, what the first part was?" "I will if I remember." I said softly. "Well, you said, '...I will only tell you when you give me leave..' What was the first part of that sentence?" She asked.

I couldn't tell her that! I was not ready to tell her I loved her. I wanted to wait until the right time to confess that I loved her. It needed to be a special time for both of us. Most likely I would tell her right before I proposed to her.

"I do not remember. I am so sorry Christine." I said, hoping she would not see through my lie. "Oh well..." She seemed disappointed, or perhaps she was just tired. "You mumbled a few more things and then settled down again. I let myself relax for a minute and tried to rest a little. My thoughts wandered a bit. I knew you'd keep talking, so I waited. Then, you said, 'Look! You want to see, see! Feast your eyes, glut your soul on my cursed ugliness! Look at Erik's Face! Now you know the face of the voice! You were not content to hear me, eh? You wanted to know what I look like?' and this next part kills me, 'Oh, you women are so inquisitive!'" She laughed, but also looked at me as if she were annoyed. "I am sorry for anything I said last night that may have offended you." I whispered. "It's not that, Erik. I just wonder why you said women, as in the plural of woman. Do you know more than one woman, Erik?" She asked sounding jealous. "I do not know many women, Christine. I know you and Mme. Giry, which is pretty much it. I also knew the Shah's daughter—the Sultana, though with her, it was more of a business partnership." "When?" She asked with pursed lips. "When I was in Persia." "How old was she?"

I thought about it, "Well, I would have been about sixteen, and she would have been maybe fourteen?" "Oh?" She did not sound very happy, " How long were you working with her?" This was not going very well. "I assure you, I never loved the Sultana. She and I only shared a love of torture. Nothing more. She was in love with another. Some little prince or something..." I trailed. "That explains nothing. Were you in love with her?" She sounded bitter. "No, no, Christine. She was many things, Christine, but the Sultana was never my love." I hoped this would comfort her. "Truly?" She asked with wide eyes. "Truly." I assured her.

"Okay. Would you like to hear what you said next?" She asked. "Yes, please." "Well, that was followed by 'Well, are you satisfied? I'm a very good-looking fellow, am I not?' Or maybe you said 'eh'...Anyway, ' I am handsome, am I not? When a woman has seen me, as you have, she belongs to me. She loves me forever. I am a kind of Don Juan, you know!' Do you mind telling me what you mean by that?" She asked, an eyebrows raised. "I have absolutely no idea. Perhaps I was imagining a situation where you tore off my mask a few days after I took you down to my lair?" I said casually. She seemed to buy my excuse. "I guess so...Then you started yelling, 'Look at me! I am Don Juan Triumphant!'" She sighed, and yawned broadly. "My poor Christine. I should allow you to sleep." I stroked her soft, curly hair. "No, no. I need to finish this. I won't be much longer. You continued in your tirade, 'Ah, I frighten you, do I? I dare say! Perhaps you think that this, my head, is another mask?!' Or something like that, 'Well, tear it off! Tear it off as you did the other! Come! Come along! I insist! Give me your hands! Know, know that I am built up of death! I am built up of death from head to foot! Know that it is a corpse that would commit murder for you, that it's a corpse who..'" She paused, and inhaled deeply. "You paused as if saying something. I didn't hear it, though. You skipped to something else, 'And adores you, and will never, never leave you!' What did you say, Erik?" She asked hopefully. "I know not..." I trailed. Though I knew exactly what I said: Know that it is a corpse who loves you...

"Then you started yelling again, 'Look, I am crying for you! Oh, mad Christine!' You shifted restlessly a few more times, allowing me to snuggle into your embrace, and listening to you coo unintelligible things. I fell asleep. Then you started singing to me. 'Take my hand,' you sang, squeezing my hand, 'Take my whole heart too...' then you pressed my hand against your heart, 'For I can't help...' Then you hummed a few notes before pulling me back down on the bed with you. You murmured, 'You are my Angel, Christine...Now and always...' And that is when I fell asleep."

She sighed and fell asleep in my arms.

I set her down on her soft bed.

As quietly as possible, I slipped out of her room, closing to door behind me.

As much as I hated leaving her, I had to—I had a meeting with Nadir. It would not be good to miss it, when I had bothered him so much to make him consent.