Authors note: This is my first fanfiction, inspired by watching the movie numerous times and repeatedly finding myself failing to believe Christine would have so easily gotten up and trotted off following the intense look of pity and compassion on her face after Erik poured out his heart to her. I am an avid EC supporter, and I will attempt to keep the mentioning of Raoul to a bare minimum (considering I detest the fop, and even seeing his name makes me squirm. Childish? Yes, but this fic will be tailored to my personal interpretation of the characters we have all grown to love so dearly.) Enjoy! Constructive criticism is most welcome.

Erik placed the porcelain mask over his scarred cheek and stood rigidly, "Come, we must return. Those two fools who run my theatre will be missing you."

Christine, however, remained on the stone cold floor of the catacombs, gazing at Erik with tear-filled eyes. He was so majestic. Even after the most traumatising of moments he managed to regain his composure and proceed to suggest action that was surely a contradiction to his own will.

Erik quizzically turned when he heard no movement and sighed with a look of concern etched on his face as he bent and outstretched his hand, "Come Christine."

Again, Christine found herself staring into his gleaming green eyes. He held so much passion, so much power. Through his eyes, fragments of his soul laid bare- the heartache of loss and rejection, the fear of loneliness. Seeing her mysterious angel as a man in the flesh uncovered a multitude of her own feelings and led her to further contemplate who this ghostly figure in her life really was.

He had just revealed to her his deepest desires, his yearning for love and compassion. For so long he was an enigma, a melodic voice who evoked wonder and provided comfort for the orphan Christine. This phantom in front of her was a man who felt and dreamt like all.

"Fear can turn to love, you'll learn to see, to find the man behind the monster- this repulsive carcass who seems a beast but secretly yearns for beauty secretly, secretly..."

Erik was a tormented man too afraid to be that which he longed to be. He placed himself into the dark chambers he was certain he belonged, condemned to a life of misery and hatred. He convinced himself no one could love a monster, and yet he could not suppress the noblest of human emotions. There remained one shard of hope left- he loved her, and although she may not love him back, he needed her to know the truth for that one chance she might return his love. Even a fallen angel could be loved, couldn't they?

Christine sobbed again, raising her chin higher and higher with three short intakes of breath and exhaled shallowly, lowering her head to escape his powerful gaze. She was emotionally drained, but she would not leave him in this dark moment. This angel, this man who had cared for her through her own somber times needed her. He needed her support, her hope. God knew she needed hope too.

As he stood there, towering above her, she could see beyond the stony, emotionless wall he put up- the façade. His eyes told a different story- and she felt somehow connected to his pain. Sure, life as a chorus girl could not parallel the kind of life she only dared to imagine her guardian living, but he connected her to her father, to her music. With him, she was comforted in her sorrow and cured of her loneliness. Her angel had been the one constant in her volatile life. He gave her hope, he inspired her to dream- and had he failed her?

The man was not the spirit of her father- he deceived her, betrayed her trust. She was not in love with this spirit whom she felt a child-like affection for- yet he professed his love for her. Her angel had taught her to sing, tutored her and prepared her for greatness on the stage. Last night was the fruition of that preparation, that dedication, that commitment. And yet where does genius meet madness, where does affection meet obsession? Could she trust this man?

But had he truly failed her? That was the question spinning in Christine's mind. So much of her innocent life revolved around him, in his existence- or rather her belief of his existence. Music was life, and life was music. It occupied her thoughts as she rose and as she rested. He had lit the spark that laid dormant since her father's passing. For years now, he and his music led her, directed her, and for some time it seemed the two had become one. But evidently, this was not so, and as he stood there, his warm hand still in hers, she could not bear to let either of them go.

With this resolution, Christine rose to her knees and fixed her eyes on Erik's once more. Bravely, Erik reached for Christine's other hand as a further encouragement. Come Christine, don't make this harder than it needs to be.

Christine softly placed her hand in his and gave a gentle smile. She was so beautiful, he thought. With her chestnut curls splayed messily over her shoulders and her puffy chocolate eyes staring into his, he never wanted to let his angel go. He wanted to soothe all her concerns and fears and bring her peace and happiness.

Erik pulled delicately at Christine's wrist to bring her to her feet but she refused to budge. Insolent girl, he thought, I'm doing this for you.

The most faint and pure of objections escaped her lips, "No."

'No'? How could she say no?

With the lightest of tugs Christine encouraged Erik to kneel before her. She had made her decision, she needed to learn more about this beautiful yet tragic man. She needed him and she wanted him. The bruised rings around his unmasked eye pulled at her heart. What is to be done with you, my living angel?

In a bold and swift move, Christine wrapped her arms around his shoulders and dug her head into the nape of his neck, inhaling his musky scent. I will care for you, angel. I will repay you for the kindness you have shown me.

Erik froze in her lock, stunned. He had never been embraced before, his disfigured face ensured that.

What does she mean by this?

If a hug was freely given, there was still scarce hope to dream.