Disclaimer: NOT MINE! I am playing in a universe created by others and make no claim whatsoever in regards to ownership! Note: Quotations from Susan Kay's work are contained herein. Those aren't mine either!

Part One: The scorpion and the candlelight

"You try my patience!" He snarled, the fury in his voice frozen to diamond hardness and so much more frightening than any of his rages had ever been... "Make your choice!"

Christine felt her heart falter, pause, and begin pounding; her head suddenly felt so light and she swayed involuntarily. Cold, then hot, then cold, neither, both! Her head ached so badly, her forehead still stung badly, yes, but oh, the horrible swirling emptiness at the base of her skull...! Cold again, so cold! This could not be happening... How had things spiraled so far out of control? If she had just listened to Raoul, if they had left the Opera immediately, they could have been so far away, could have been safe. There would be no decision to be made, no icy hatred in Erik's voice, no panic from Raoul inside the torture chamber, no grasshopper, no scorpion. No choice.

No choice. She couldn't hurt either of them, not her Raoul, or her dark angel. For her angel he still was. Oh, Papa. You sent me my angel, but I'm so afraid! I don't know what to do. I'm too afraid-- I can't-- It hurts, Papa, it hurts so much!

No choice. Dimly through the throbbing pain she heard Erik saying something, Raoul's continued pleas and cries from behind the wall of the torture chamber. Time slowed and the world became fuzzy... She saw Erik reaching towards the grasshopper.

I'm afraid of my angel, Papa, and I'm so afraid to die.

The Dies Irae on the walls, the red drapes and the organ, the coffin-- the cat's basket, a flea's silk palace-- Papa, please, tell me what to do--!

No choice. Christine saw her hand move of its own accord, reaching out, and though the rest of the world seemed slow and fuzzy, her hand moved at normal speed, so much more quickly than anything else... No choice...

The scorpion rotated easily in her grip. Her heart was beating so hard... The world sped up again, the fog dissipated somewhat, but she was still so cold. Her voice, was that her voice? Such a hoarse whisper-- did she really sound like that?

"Erik, I have turned the scorpion."

And the world turned black.

Shadows, someone was afraid, was begging her not to leave. Darkness, the scent of roses and candles, gentle hands holding hers, a caress against her cheek. Someone helping her to drink something that made the blinding pain release her and retreat. A lullaby, soft and achingly beautiful.

Angel…

She woke slowly, the pain in her head so distant that she could almost ignore it.

In the faint glow of a candle there was a shadow seated by the bed, her angel, and he was radiating sadness. "Erik?" It was such an effort to even whisper!

"Christine…" His voice made a caress of her very name, but there was so much pain in it! The anger and coldness was gone, as though it had never been. Or had it ever been there at all? The world was fuzzy again and she struggled to focus. The scorpion, yes, she remembered the feel of its ebony smoothness under her fingers, remembered anger, pain, fear, but there was something else, something important…

A choice, no choice, pain and angry cries…

"Is Raoul, I mean, is he—?"

"Hush." Erik whispered, his hand tremulously caressed the outline of her hair, coming close—so close!—but not touching. "Your boy is uninjured. Rest now."

"Erik… I… what…?" Christine stirred restlessly. Her hands felt so cold, but the blanket was smothering her! If she could just push it off…

He withdrew his hand. "The vicomte is safe." Erik said quietly in answer to her unspoken question, "He has been returned to his home and is quite well. But you must rest now."

"Mmm." Christine fought to keep her eyes open, but it was so hard! The blanket was too much to worry about just now. It could wait…

"Hush." Erik repeated gently. He reached out his hand again, ever so slowly, and this time she felt the faintest touch against her hair. "You've been ill."

"Tired and… it hurts…" Her eyes slid shut for a moment and she turned her head toward his hand. His hands were normally as chilled as she imagined Death's would be, but her head felt on fire and the cool touch of his long fingers was so good.

He started, eyes wide in the candlelight, but didn't pull away.

Christine shifted slightly against the pillows, eyes slowly closing, and reached up to lay her own hand over his, to make certain that soothing touch wouldn't disappear. "Erik…"

"Yes?" His voice was softly incredulous, colored with wonder.

The world began to fade again, but that was all right. The blanket didn't feel so uncomfortable anymore. Raoul was safe and her angel was there… "Erik." She sighed.

"Christine…"