Ok, this only my second publication on this site ever. So go easy on the criticism because this is also my first one-shot. I know, a little weird that I chose to write a chapter story first.

COVER ART- The beautiful artwork I have used as a cover is not mine. It is being used my permission from Muirin007 on deviantART . com. She is super talented and if you want to check out her work, the link is posted on my profile. (Seriously, you need to see her art, it is all lovely)

For those readers that enjoy Lost Love, don't worry. I am not putting it on the back burner. I just know my next chapter is far from complete.

Please read and review!

The One She Runs To

Christine stood in center stage, her delicate face lit with modest excitement. Madame Giry (and secretly she suspected the Phantom) had convinced the managers to allow her another solo piece, despite Carlotta's jealous protests. The premiere had been almost two months ago, yet the infuriating woman had not overcome the blow to her oversized ego. But despite her flustered arguements and threats, Firmin and Andre supported Christine's endeavors. That an unseen ghost forced their hands gave them an excuse for La Carlotta. But both men were more than happy to allow the ballerina to sing again. The last time she had, they received momentous compliments and generous donations for their Opera. Listening to her rehearse now, neither regretted the decision.

The sweet aria fit her voice perfectly, as though it had been written specifically with her talent in mind. The song was not simple; complex runs and huge dynamic jumps characterized it with difficulty. However, her hidden teacher had been helping her conquer it for endless hours. After today's rehearsal she intended to meet with him for another lesson.

She flowed through every pitch of the final run, ending on a flawless high note, perfectly round and full. She blushed lightly when the other actors and dancers applauded her, allowing a shy smile in return.

"Very well done, my dear," Madame Giry complimented her. "I can tell how hard you have been working in your lessons." Between them passed an unspoken understanding. Knowledge of the masked tutor that neither one would ever admit to possessing. Christine thanked her and headed for the wings to change for ballet.

"Stupid little fool," she heard a nasally Italian voice scoff. She did not look at her, but she listened to every word La Carlotta said. "She probably doesn't even realize how horrible she sounds. Did you hear that final note? It was so flat it made my ears hurt. Poor thing is going to make a laughing stock of herself performing that piece of trash."

Christine felt mortified. What if she really did sound as awful as she said? She never thought she was as great as others made her out to be. She slipped away unnoticed. Madame Giry rarely protested when she went missing. Even with her skipped rehearsals, she still exceeded others in her dances.

She fled through the back hallways, running to her safe haven. She burst through the door of her dressing room. Rushing to her huge mirror, she hunted for the release that would allow it to open. He had never shown her, so she finally gave up. Sobbing at the base of the reflective surface, she called his name hopelessly. "Angel, Angel."

Erik sat at his organ, playing the aria he knew his Christine was singing at that precise moment. He reveled in the mental sound of her. So perfect, no earthly voice could ever rival hers. He smiled peacefully, something he had been doing more often now that Christine shared in his world. He felt slightly impatient, knowing in only a few short hours she would return for her lesson.

Suddenly his fingers paused on the keys. His head turned to the side, listening intently. He heard the trip warning for the mirror entrance. Someone was attempting to get in. He knew they would fail, but wondered who knew about it just the same. Such knowledge could be very dangerous for them to have. He didn't bother with a jacket or cape. He only planned to see them, not to leave the safety of his tunnels and passageways. He hurried through his labyrinth of halls and stairs with ease.

When he ascended to the last corridor, he heard it. Soft, muffled cries he knew could belong to no one else but her, Christine. Now he hurried in earnest, distressed by the sound of such sadness from her. "Angel," he heard her beg. Dear heaven she was calling for him. He unlocked the latch, sliding the hindering glass out of the way. "Christine, darling what's wrong. I am not supposed to see you for another hour at least." Her face snapped up, meeting his gaze with startled relief.

He bent down on his knees so he was level with her. Before he could react she had thrown her small arms around his neck, crying into his shoulder. It took Erik a moment to respond, unaccustomed to any form of contact with her. His arms slipped around her tiny waist, pulling her closer. Realizing the extent of her distress, he lifted her into his arms and slipped back into the mirror, carrying her with him into his world. He cradled her against his body as he descended to his lair, never once allowing her feet to touch the ground. He could feel her warm breath against the skin of his neck, the gentle caress distracting him immensely.

Finally they arrived at his home. He still held her as he sat in his throne. "Now tell me Christine, what has caused you to be so upset?" She pulled away from his chest and looked sadly up at his inquiring eyes.

"I can't do it," she admitted softly. "I'm not good enough." His brow creased in confusion.

"Good enough for what?"

"To sing the aria. It is too difficult for me. People will laugh when I cannot sing it right."

Erik frowned darkly. "Who on earth has told you such ignorant lies?" he questioned intensely.

"Carlotta, she said-," Christine never had the opportunity to finish.

"Carlotta? That is who convinced you your voice is unworthy? My dear, that woman is nothing but an overconfident, jealous diva. She feels threatened by your obvious talent. She knows you are in an entirely different class of opera singer. A much better one, I might add. You and I have worked hard to shape your voice, and I have never experienced such a heavenly sound. No one compares to you, darling, especially not the soprano upstairs. Everything about you is beautiful; never let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Do you really think I am beautiful?" she asked shyly. Her teacher had always shied away from such topics. Generally keeping their roles of teacher and student well defined.

His green eyes looked into her brown ones seriously when he responded, "yes." The one word was more sincere than all the fawning of Raoul could ever be. "You are the loveliest person I have ever seen." His voice sounded slightly saddened. Erik could only wish he was beautiful enough to deserve her. She pressed herself tightly against him again, hugging him close. She felt safe in his embrace. Ironic that she should find security in the Opera Ghost's arms.

Erik relished the feel of her soft body pushed so tightly against his own. Only it made him long for so much more than an embrace. Tentatively, he bent his face to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. She did not move away or recoil. This confused him. She tilted her small face up curiously, but said nothing. She carefully lifted one small white hand up to touch him. He watched her warily. The last time she made such a move, she had removed his mask. Instead of attempting that again, she simply trailed her fingers down his cheek. His eyes closed tightly and his lips pressed together in a tight line. He tried determinedly to control the cry that wanted to escape at feeling her skin against his. With his eyes shut, he could not see her incline her lips to the same place on his cheek.

His lids snapped open and his hands left her tiny frame to grip the armrests of his chair in restraint. "Christine, do not do that again," he commanded forcefully.

"Why?"

"I feel emotions for you that no angel should ever have." He admitted softly. "Your very presence is an ungodly temptation."

She seemed frightened, but not of him. "Is it a sin to feel for an angel as I do for you?" Her question was simple. It demonstrated the trust she held for Erik; the undying belief in him

His green eyes sought hers determinedly. "And what is it that you feel for me exactly?"

"I –I don't rightly know. I have never experienced it before. There are so many emotions, some I cannot name." He watched her eyes widen in a confused pursuit of fleeting understanding. "It is as though I am only alive, only safe in your presence. And your voice and your touch inspire longings I have never known."

"Never? Has the Vicomte not stirred such sensations in you?"

"No." She answered truthfully.

"Do they frighten you, Christine?"

"Yes, only because I am afraid of being kept out of heaven for having them."

"Oh my dear," he laughed softly, "God wouldn't bar the gates of paradise for you. Not for the offense you are so suspicious of. How would you describe your supposed sin?"

"I always want more than I should. I…," she stumbled over the unutilized word, "I desire more."

Erik practically choked on the oxygen entering his lungs. Just hearing the word desire fall from her lips ignited his unholy want for her. The poor child had no idea what effect she was having on him. "Desire is only a part of love Christine. Not that I presume so far as to say you love me. I mean to explain that it isn't the black, evil unmentionable that most believe it to be. No," he whispered softly, "desire can be beautiful." He touched her cheek lightly. "Yes, I believe it can." The trace of fear left her face, leaving only acceptance behind.

She smiled innocently, "And so, I run to true beauty."

He quirked a brow, "Sorry?"

"If desire is beautiful and you are my desire that is who I run to."

So... did you like it? If so please review! If I get enough, more one-shots may likely appear. Thanks for reading.

Much love!

~bo-leigh bella