AN Thank you SOOO much to all of you who've reviewed and who've added me to your alert/ favorite list! It is a HUGE motivation for me :) Thank you, also, to those who continue to read my story. I hope you're all enjoying! Now, without further ado, here is chapter five!

Christine's eyes fluttered opened and her brow furrowed as she sat up in her bed. She brought a hand to her forehead and lifted a string of curls that had fallen out of place during her sleep. She hurriedly looked around her room, doing her best to comprehend if the morning events had actually happened. She then spotted a note propped up on her bedside table. She shuffled to the edge of her bed and hesitantly picked up the note and opened it:

If you wake before 7 come backstage to my office. I leave at 7:30.

The letter was not signed, but Christine knew it was from him. She glanced at her bedside clock; it read 6:45. Christine stood up and walked over to her porcelain dish and splashed cool water on her face; she then toweled off and sat at her vanity, rearranged her curls, then stood up and straitened her dress. She retrieved Erik's music collection from her desk; and with a stomach full of butterflies, she exited her room.

She arrived backstage five minutes later and stopped dead in her tracks. Her nerves suddenly got the best of her. The hands that held his music to her chest began to shake and her breathing and heart pace quickened. Christine did not know what to expect from him. She had already made up her mind that Erik's attitude towards her would be just as sour as it had been this morning. The funny thing about the whole situation was that she knew she deserved nothing short of his anger. What had she done to deserve any sort of understanding. She had after all taken everything from him, things he offered to her freely, and she in return, had given him nothing.

She wanted to change that now. She wanted to give him understanding, to thank him for what he'd done for her over the years, and to truly understand who was hiding behind the facade of the Angel Of Music. Christine closed her eyes and took in one deep breath as she carefully approached Erik's office door. She wasn't sure how long she stood at the door, but when she finally worked up the courage to lift her hand to knock, Erik's voice broke the silence, "You may come in."

Taking in one more deep breath, Christine turned the handle and entered Erik's office. She closed the door behind her and turned slowly towards him. Erik sat at his desk scribbling a note on a sheet of paper. When the door closed he set down his pen and looked up at Christine, "Have a seat," and he gestured to a chair in front of the desk.

With their eyes locked, Christine timidly approached the chair still clutching Erik's music to her chest.

"What do you have there?" he gestured as she sat down.

She glanced down at the music and looked back up at him as she lifted the music up and passed it over his desk, "I went back to the Populaire and found these," Erik looked at her curiously as he took hold of the music, "I thought you'd like to have them back."

His eyes softened as he leafed through the papers. He stopped when he came across his drawing of Christine and the lullaby he had written for her. He stared at them briefly, then hurriedly released them from his grasp and returned his eyes back to Christine, "You went back to the Populaire? Down to the catacombs?"

"Yes, I-" Christine's words were cutoff as tears filled her eyes.

She wiped them away quickly and opened her mouth to continue but Erik cut her off, "Foolish girl," he said annoyingly, "did you expect the mob to be merciful?"

"I had to see for myself," she said carefully.

"You saw, Christine," he said flatly,"and now you're here. What are you doing here? Don't tell me you came all the way to Italy just to return the music," he said with a sarcastic laugh.

"No.. I've been with Madame Giry the last two weeks. I waited until your letter came. I left Paris three days ago."

"That does not answer my question, Christine," he said impatiently, "what are you doing here?"

"I came here to sing," she said plainly.

"Christine, you can sing anywhere." he said matter-of-factly, "why here?"

"The night my father died," Christine said, hurriedly changing the subject, hoping to calm Erik's temper, "you carried me to the Populaire?"

"I-" Erik stopped himself, taken aback by her question. He had just about hurled an insult at her procrastination, but held his tongue as he looked into her longing eyes. He cleared his throat before responding, "yes," he answered quietly.

"And it was you who appeared in the chapel each day after that."

Her lovely chocolate orbs bared into his heart. As much as he wanted to push her away, to prevent himself from any further heartbreak, he could not deny her what she was seeking.

"Yes," he replied again, this time averting his eyes, as he suddenly became uncomfortable with her gaze.

"How old were you?" she asked softly.

Erik looked back at her and inhaled deeply before responding, "I was fifteen."

"Why?" Christine asked hurriedly. Erik looked up and met her gaze, "Why did you do it?"

"Christine, I don't see the importance of dragging up ancient history," Erik said tiredly.

"It's important to me," Christine said with pleading eyes, "please?" she asked.

Erik closed his eyes and let out a defeated sigh. He opened his eyes and looked deeply into hers before he continued, "When I first heard you in the chapel, your tears cut into me. I had never known anyone in the world to feel the loneliness and pain that I had felt as a child. You were just as alone as I was, and you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever laid eyes on. I wanted to help you; to take away your pain. I thought I was doing the right thing by giving you what you so desperately prayed for."

He opened his mouth to continue but Christine stopped him, "Thank you." she said hurriedly.

Erik looked up at her, confusion plain across the unmasked side of his face, "Thank you for what you did."

"You're welcome," he said quietly

Silence again fell upon them and newly sprung tears began falling from Christine's face. She wiped at them hurriedly not wanting to show weakness in front of Erik. He seemed to understand this, but instead of turning a blind eye to her tears, he stood from his chair and walked over to where Christine sat and handed her the handkerchief from his vest pocket. Christine muttered a soft thank you as she accepted the gesture and wiped her eyes and cheeks.

When she seemed to have gotten a hold of her emotions Erik cleared his throat and continued speaking, "What now, Christine? You still have not answered my question. Why here?"

"It's your music I came for."

"My music," he said plainly.

"It was my salvation... Don't you see? It's always been your music that I've needed."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Christine," he said sarcastically,"but there is still one problem."

"What?" she asked.

"Raoul De Chagny," he said with gritted, "you've come all the way to Italy. Alone, I presume? What of your engagement?"

"I-" Christine closed her mouth not sure where to begin. This was the part of the confrontation that she had been dreading the most.

"Well?" he asked impatiently.

"Everything is on hold," she said carefully.

"On hold until what? Until you've ridden yourself of the guilt of what you did to me? Until you've made peace with me?" His voice had risen and Christine was suddenly filled with fear at his temper.

Erik towered over her, and though Christine was now looking down at the floor, she could feel Erik's eyes bearing down on her, "Christine, look at me!" he demanded.

She did not move, and in his anger, he knelt down in front of her and took hold of her shoulders and gave her a quick shake, causing Christine to give a short scream as her eyes were forced to meet his, "do you love him?" he yelled.

"Yes!" she cried loudly as she kept her eyes locked on his.

"Then you don't belong here, Christine," he said angrily, "you love him; not me, and I cannot have you near me if that is the case. You need to leave."

He sprung from his feet then and walked over to the door and opened it.

When he turned, Christine was beside him, her face full of rage. She reached out and took hold of the door and slammed it shut. The slamming caused Erik to jump inwardly.

"I don't know you, don't you understand that?" she yelled.

"What do you mean, you stupid girl? You've known me your whole life!" he said aggressively.

"Not you. You are not the angel of music!'

"They're one in the same!" he yelled back.

"They are not!" Christine screamed as angry tears cascaded down her cheeks, "I know nothing about you! You have always hid behind your mask; behind the name Angel Of Music. I came here so I could come to know and understand the man behind the facade. The man whose music and devotion saved my life!"

Something inside Erik snapped then, and he tore his mask from his face and took hold of Christine again and backed her against the door, tightly holding her shoulders so she could not move her arms. Christine let out a shriek of pain and her tear filled eyes stared into Erik's enraged green ones, "This is Erik, Christine! Is this what you want? There was good reason for me remaining anonymous to you. Would you have had me as I am? Have you any knowledge of how much blood is on my hands? I let you go that night so you would not be condemned to the hell that I am destined for!" His face was now inches from hers, "Is this what you want, Christine? A murderer? The devil's child?"

Christine opened her mouth to respond but could not find her voice, "Answer me, Christine!" Erik yelled as he shook her again, "is Erik what you want?" he yelled, his tone sarcastic and full of venom.

With his face a mere inch from hers, Christine hurriedly closed the gap between them, capturing his lips in a tearful kiss.

The pressure of the kiss was light from both parties; both set of lips remained motionless. Though there was nothing happening with their lips there was much happening inside both of them. Erik felt heat and sensation move from his head, then to his heart, and finally, to the pit of his stomach. This kiss from Christine was vastly different from the one she had bestowed upon him five weeks ago. This kiss was not forced. It was honest and pure.

Christine pulled back from the kiss slowly. Erik opened his eyes to look at her, to hopefully see in her face the answer he secretly wished to hear. Alas, Christine's eyes were still closed, and Erik noticed the pink blush in her cheeks. With her eyes still closed, Christine let out a haggard breath as she relished in the sensations that ran through her body.

In that single kiss, Christine had her answer. She slowly opened her eyes and met Erik's gaze.

She carefully brought her hand to cup the disfigured side of his face, "Yes," she said softly.

Erik reached up and covered the hand that was holding his face. He gently brought the hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist. He then released her hand from his grasp and bent his head down as he replaced his mask to his face.

He turned away from her and walked back to his desk and began packing music into his satchel. Christine's brow furrowed and she carefully walked to his desk and stood in front it.

"Erik?" she asked softly.

He kept his back to her as he continued shuffling through his papers, picking out the ones he still needed to work on, "If you truly wish to stay, Christine, you may," he finished packing his satchel and turned back to her then, "but if you wish to leave now I will understand."

He turned away from her again and began straightening the mess of papers on his desk.

"I'd like to stay," she answered softly.

Erik looked up and met her gaze, "Very well. Rehearsals start at nine o'clock tomorrow, and auditions for the fall production start at eleven."

He picked up his satchel and walked over to the door and opened it. He turned to Christine who was still standing at his desk, "Come, I escort you to your room."

Christine followed in obedience and together they exited backstage and silently walked through the auditorium, out its doors, and down the hall to the Prima suite.

When they reached her bedroom door Christine put her key in its lock and turned it slowly. The door clicked open and Christine turned the handle and entered her room. She turned back to Erik who still stood in the hall starring back at her.

Silence fell between them and Christine shuffled uncomfortably under Erik's gaze.

"What happens now?" she asked.

"You do what you came here to do; I'll do the same."

He turned from her then, but before he could take a step, Christine stopped him, "what did you come here for?"

Without meeting her eyes, Erik turned his head and spoke over his shoulder, "A second chance."

He turned his head back and continued walking down the hall. His footsteps soon died away and Christine heard the closing of the Dumos's entrance.

"Good night, Erik." she whispered as she closed the door to her room.