Christine released a sigh, leaning against the closed door.

In less than twenty four hours, she would be a wife. And not only a wife, a Vicomtress.

Raoul had been making preparations for it for weeks. Christine had no idea so much work had to be put in for a wedding. Everything just seemed so prestigious and regal. The petite brunette always imagined her wedding would be the opposite of what it was to be tomorrow.

She dreamed it would be outside, by her father's house near the sea. A simple ceremony on the sandy beach, a handful of dear friends and loved ones there. And her betrothed smiling, awaiting her at the alter.

Tomorrow however was meant for a Vicomte and Vicomtress. It was being held at the St Gervais et St Protais church in the heart of Paris, the rows lavishly decorated in large flower arrangements and gold ribbons. There were to be so many guests, more than half of which Christine didn't even know. Her wedding dress was fit for a queen, large and lavish.

She had asked Raoul if there were any way to simplify the ceremony, even just a little. But he insisted it wasn't his decision to make. He agreed that he wanted to give Christine the wedding she wanted, but the De Chagny's would not stand for anything less than extravagant, especially for the youngest and future successor to the family name since Phillipe had died.

Christine sat down at her vanity table and sadly shook her head. She wasn't angry at Raoul, or love him any less. But as she looked at herself in the mirror, she barely recognised herself anymore. Her hair that she preferred to keep down and flowing was tied up, a jewelled pin nestled in it. The gown she wore was shades of magenta and cream colours, made of the finest silken fabric. And around her neck a fine gold necklace with tear drop shaped sapphires, her earrings matching it.

The sad woman staring back at Christine was a complete stranger. She missed the simplicity of her old life. Most of all she missed the opera, missed singing. Without music, a piece of her soul felt missing.

She had not set foot in the Opera Populaire since...

Christine closed her eyes, saddened even more at the thought of him. There wasn't a day that passed that she did not think of him. Angel of Music, Phantom of the Opera, Erik. Since that night she had not seen him again. The petite brunette had heard Meg's recount of the mob and lawmen locating the Phantom's hideout only to find his mask. But no trace of the man it belonged to.

Where was Erik now? Was he even still alive, or did he die somehow later that night?

Sighing she reached up, removing her earrings. She placed them back in the jewellery box on the vanity and saw something she didn't notice earlier.

On the table was a red rose, dethorned, a black ribbon tied to the stem.

Christine's breath caught in her throat. She whipped around, frantically scanning the room.

"A-Angel?" She gasped, standing as she walked through the room. Was he here? Where was he?

Then she realised something; the window was open. The silk curtains waved violently in the breeze. She walked up to the window, peering outside. But nothing-and no one-was out there. Christine shut the windows, the locking latch clicked closed.

"Chriiiiiiistiiiiine" A familiar voice cooed.

Christine gasped, her heart skipping a beat. She slowly turned, hardly believing her ears and eyes.

Erik was cloaked in black, blending in with the shadows. The white porcelain mask the only thing showing through the darkness. Almost a year had passed and he looked just the same as he had back then.

"My God..." Christine held her hands to her mouth, "You're alive"

"If you can call this wretched life of mine living." Erik remarked, "But to see you Christine, it feels a little less deplorable."

Her eyes welled with tears. Christine ran to him, wrapping her arms around him. Erik flinched, his breath catching in his throat as she cried.

"I thought you were dead Erik!" She sobbed, "I thought you were gone. Oh Erik."

Hesitently the masked man wrapped an arm around her, rubbing her back.

"Oh Christine. Shhh shh now, don't cry now. Please, do not cry for Erik," He soothingly whispered as she cried into his suit jacket.

They pulled away, Erik stared down at her.

"Christine, you are still so beautiful."

She smiled, "You haven't changed a bit Erik. How? Where have you been all this time?"

"After the mob raided my home, I knew it wasn't safe to go back-save for gathering a few possessions. My late mother's home was left untouched after her death. I took what I had and made refuge there," Erik explained.

"And I..." He paused, "I had learned that the union between the Vicomte De Chagny and Christine Daee was to commence tomorrow."

Christine stared up at him sadly, "Erik I-"

But he silenced her, "No Christine. I've not come to finish what I started a year ago down in the catacombs. I've come to terms that you will never love me...as...as I love you."

Christine heart broke hearing her angel's voice crack, trying to hold back raw emotion. It hurt to know how deeply he still had such feelings for her.

"Why are you here?" She asked, her outstretched hand grazing the edge of his mask.

"To say goodbye," He confessed, laying his hand overtop hers. "I know once you are wed I will never have any claim on you. And without you, without your music, there is nothing more for me here."

"Angel..." She whispered, tears welling up.

Erik shook his head, "Christine, why do you sound so miserable? You are to be a wife in a matter of hours. Yet before I entered, you looked so saddened."

"It's music Erik. I feel lost and empty without it. Raoul hasn't barred me from the stage, but he said once we're married it just wouldn't be possible for me to return to the stage."

Erik scowled, "He squanders your talent. You are meant for so much more than playing the part of a dutiful wife. Your voice is meant to soar like a songbird."

"I haven't sang since that night. Don Juan Triumphant was my last performance. I never told you Erik but I thought your opera, your music was so beautiful."

The Phantom's heart swelled hearing such praise from his protege and muse.

"You made it complete Christine. My song cannot take flight without you."

Reaching his hand up Erik gently removed the pin from Christine's hair. Her chocolate brown curls cascading around her face.

The simple gesture made Christine smile warmly at her maestro. She wasn't sure why she did it, but Christine let her fingers curl under the edge of Erik's mask. He shuddered, knowing what she wanted to do.

"I never thought to ask you to show me. I'm sorry for that Erik. But would you, just once let me see you?" She asked.

His teeth clenched nervously, but he nodded.

Christine removed to mask to reveal the twisted distortion he hid. This face that had caused Erik so much pain and torment. His voice was so beautiful and his mind brilliant, why couldn't his face match these qualities? Why was life so cruel to grace Erik with such a face?

His malformed lips trembled feeling Christine stroke the sunken flesh of his cheek.

"Does it hurt?" Christine asked quietly.

He meekly nodded, "My mask scrapes against my face sometimes, it irritates my skin.

"Where will you be going angel? If you are not staying in Paris?"

"I-I have quite decided yet. There is a ship in Calais leaving the day after your wedding. I will be on it, but I'm not sure where it leads. But anything is better than staying in France, this place holds too many memories for me."

"Bad?" She looked away guiltily, she was partly responsible for what transpired a year ago, and felt at fault for Erik's pain.

"On the contrary. Horrible memories I can easily bury, I'm use to them. What I can't forget as easily are the few that brought me joy. Those thoughts, thoughts of music, harmonies, you."

Placing his mask back on, Erik adjust his suit jacket.

"I must go Christine, but there is one thing I would like you to have." Taking her hand gently in his, she felt Erik place something small in her palm. "I should hope you will keep it this time. But I understand if you choose not to."

Christine opened her palm to see a ring, the very same ring he had taken off and slipped onto her finger during Don Juan.

Opening the jewellery box, Christine picked through it, until finding a gold plated chain. Lifting it from the box, she slipped Erik's ring through it. Removing the sapphire necklace, she replaced it with the ring and chain, clasping it in place.

"I promise Erik, I-" She turned, but her angel was no longer there. She glanced around the room, The Phantom nowhere in sight.

Christine felt new tears well up in the corners of her eyes.

"Goodbye Erik," She said to the empty air, clutching the ring.

She sat there for some time before sleep was beginning to overcome her. She dressed down into her nightgown, removing the makeup she wore.

Lying in the large bed, Christine fumbled with Erik's ring.

"In sleep he sang to me,

"In dreams he came."

She quietly sang to herself, lulling to sleep.

"That voice which calls to me,

And speaks my name."

As Christine fell into her slumber, Erik watched her from outside the window.

"Goodbye Christine." Taking one last look at his sleeping angel, Erik leapt down, his cape like cloak whooshing as he landed. Slipping into the dark, moonless night, Erik slipped away from the De Chagny manor and where he had a carriage waiting just a ways away from the main gate.

"To Rouen," He called to the driver as the carriage sped down the dark trail.