Promise Me You'll Try (Christine)|FINISHED

[phantom]

There will never be a day when I won't think of you!

[/center]

Two years. It had been two long years since he had seen Christine Daae - since he had let anyone see him. Every moment he had spent thinking of her. He had to wonder if she had evere thought of him. Of course she would have been busy with her precious fiance, and he had hardly left a good last impression on either of them with the kidnapping. But he could only hope that if she had thought of him, that she had thought of him with no ill will. Surely she must know how deeply and irrevocably he loved her. If he had loved her any less he would not have let her go. This should have been enough to reassure him that she did not hate him, but it was not enough to tell him that she loved him. Nor was that kiss she had given, the kiss which had changed everything. That first moment would have done the trick, but she continued it, prolonging it by her own choice. It might not have expressed love - in all likelihood it only spoke of her pity and desperation - but it had kept him going for the past two years: that fleeting glimpse of hope that perhaps, just perhaps, he held some piece of her heart.

It was undeniable that he had, at one point, held incredible power over her. His singing could lure her into his lair or lull her to sleep. The tutoring he had given her also made her indebted to him. Even the way he looked, from his impeccable dress and flamboyant cape to the mysterious mask and the smoldering eyes which gazed out from it at her, entranced her, he knew. But he had to wonder whether he could still hold such power over her. The opera house had been his, and while she had resided there, she had been in his domain, under his charge. But she had left - he had let her leave - and he did not even know if she thought of him anymore. He should think that those years they had spent together, culminating in the last few months, could not be forgotten in two; he would have thought he had left an indeliable imprint upon her mind. She certainly had to him. He could no longer remember what he thought of in the days before Christine - had there been any? - and now he could think of nothing else.

He obsessed over her. He needed her. She was like his oxygen, because his oxygen was music and that was what she was to him. Her voice still rang in his memory. As he walked across the rafters of the backstage of the abandoned theatre, in the place where he had come in hopes of finding Christine, he swore he could still hear her singing. He had come to New York after hearing that she was there. He had never been anywhere other than Paris, other than his beloved opera house. But he loved her more. She had her freedom, now, and if she was to see him, he thought it would be by choice. He would begin dropping her signs of his presence. Already he had a single red rose in his breastpocket, tied with a black ribbon as was his customary token. Now he only had to find her. He doubted she would be at this very place but if she was, he would know. He was quite an observant person, after all. There in the silence of the theatre, the only place in New York which felt safe to him other than in the dark apartment he was renting, he could hear her singing still.

Driven mad with the sound, he looked down through the rafters onto the stage, which he realized was not, as he had originally thought, empty. ...could it be? He crept silently forward to get a better look. The occupant of the stage had the same luxurious hair, the same creamy and flawless skin. It had to be her. He leaned forward, breathless, hardly daring to hope. But as he leaned forward, the rose slipped from his pocket and floated to the stage to fall at her feet. His breath caught in his throat as he watched in anticipation, wondering what her reaction would be. He didn't even think to scramble backwards out of sight, in case she should look up - he was frozen there in shock.

((ooc: hope that's all right for an intro. I made it fast since we're both on a lot - I figured, why not?))

[christine]

Christine had been wondering around in Greenwich, with her music player. Coming along across of an abandoned theatre Christine stopped. Slowly taking off the headphones in her ears, she wrapped it up and stuffed it in her purse again. Opening up the doors. No one was in there. "Hello?" she called curiously. No answer. Her shoes clicked the surface of the floor as she entered. She was wearing jeans, a tank top and a sweater. It was rather cold that day but she didn't mind. Her hair was up in a pony tail ad a few strains of hair were in her face.

Scanning the area with her eyes. It was all very dark. All she could do was feel her way around the area. Finding a light switch, she flicked it on. A light appeared on a lonely stage. Christine, moved slowly towards the stage. Grabbing the aria from a long time ago, she looked at it for a moment. Unsure if anyone was in here, Christine decided to try it out again. Placing her purse in one of the broken chairs she managed to get upon the stage. Almost falling she looked around and thought she saw a shadow. "Show yourself" she demanded. Her soft voice echoed through the theatre. It was rather large. Old, and abandoned. Finding another light switch, Christine managed to turn that one too. The house lights came on.

Christine didn't know what to do for a moment. As she looked around she looked up at the rafters and saw no one. Her eyes dropped to the ground, and found a single red rose with a black ribbon tied around the green steam. Blinking softly she hoped it was fake, unsure if it was real or not. Most people would never have a red rose with a black ribbon. Knowing whose signature that was she began to stay silent for a moment. Christine continued to look around as she picked it up. She moved to the edge of the stage and sat there. Staring at it. "Erik" was the only name that came to mind as she touched the black ribbon with her fingers. Her wedding band was around her ring finger as she did so. Christine looked around, and didn't know what to do. All she could do was just begin humming lightly as she continued to look at it with horror. Christine took out the aria and started to sing the song aloud. Knowing no one was there so she felt comfortable.

((its all good no worries))

[phantom]

Not even the demand to know his identity could make Erik flinch. Even that sounded beautiful, coming from Christine. How he longed to answer! How he longed to tell her, "I am your angel of music." And why shouldn't he? Why couldn't he? He wanted to. But he was afraid. He was afraid that if he said anything, she would also be afraid - of him, and that she would run away. She had no idea how difficult it had been from him to track her down. It had taken him two years. He had not started his search immediately after she had left him. He had been too heartbroken to do anything for a while; he had wept for days, paralyzed by his grief, incapable of doing anything other than bemoaning what he had loved and lost. What he had let slip out of his hands. He had, in essence, been mourning - not Christine, for he knew she was alive and well and being provided for by that fop, but rather any chance of happiness he might have had. This was a process which had to be given time, of course, since he had known her for a long enough time to make the loss of her presence deeply felt.

But now, here they were, together again - more or less. It was almost as if fate had brought them together. No, fate was too cruel for that. He had tried to find her, going as far as to leave Paris and attempt to find her in New York City, where he had learned she was now living. She had glanced up, giving him a view of her beautiful face, which was just as he had remembered. He thought in his mind he might have exaggerated her beauty when he remembered her, but no - she was every bit of the glorious angel he had been picturing in his mind the past two years. Two years had not left her looking any older or more worn down. For the brief moment she searched the rafters - for him - he studied her face. He saw her, but she did not see him. He inhaled sharply, shakily. Even in the darkness he could see her perfectly - and she was perfect. He could have so easily swung down from the rafters and joined her on the stage. He could ravish her in the darkness and no one would know but them. He began to creep backwards, inching ever-so-slowly toward the staircase behind him.

Then, suddenly, a light was turned on. Quite a few lights. He might have been able to handle the first but it was all too much for him. Grimacing, he shielded his eyes with his arm. When he had somewhat adjusted to the light, he managed to look back down at the stage to stare at Christine again. Now she was kneeling on the stage to pick up the rose which he had dropped. He watched with bated breath as she stooped. When she curled her fingers around it, a strange glint reflected by the light hit his eye. It didn't immediately come to him what it meant - perhaps jewelry. She stood, looked around, began to hum, and then began to sing. He felt compelled to sing along with her, so he did so.

((ooc: What song is she singing? ...and sorry if it's too short. I can add more if you need more to reply to))

[christine]

As she knelt down on the stage, Christine continued singing to herself, as she played with the ribbon that was tied around the red rose. Having soft memories, from when she came back in to her dressing room from her evening performances Christine would have been finding these almost every night from the Phantom. The memories had ended and she came back to reality. Stuffing the red rose neatly in her purse, having it stick out, she continued to look about her surroundings in the abandoned area. Christine loved the little song she was singing. It was what her father played for her when she was young.

Christine had thought she had seen something as she looked up at the rafters. There was nothing really to be seen. Narrowing her eyes, a moment later Christine turned back around holding the rose in her hand. Walking towards the edge of the stage she sat down and looked out around the seating area. The chairs were broken, and it seemed this place to be abandoned. Christine continued singing her little song from the past.

"No What i love
Best Lottie Said
Is when Im asleep in my bed
And the angel of music sings songs in my head...

The Angel of Music sings songs in my head..."

The song ended, and Christine looked around as she heard another voice. A man's voice. Very similar to the phantoms voice. Looking around frantically she didn't know what else to do. "Is someone here playing a trick on me!" she called softly. Christine stood up and looked around. It would have been a horrible trick, to play on her of someone mimicking her angel's voice. Christine didn't know what to do but she continued to stay calm and she knelt down again. "Father, if its you. I need your guidance once again. Please send my angel of music back to me. Please" she said in her soft voice. Christine sat there in silence once her song was finished. Still looking around

((Its Little Lotte ))

[phantom]

Erik listened to Christine in ecstacy. The song which she sang was comfortingly familiar. He was taken back to a moment which now seemed so long ago, back when he had been Christine's tutor for some time, but she had not actually seen him. Then he had been able to convince her that he was the ghost of her father, or something of that sort, not entirely out of his doing but something she had been thinking of before they had even been introduced. Surely she thought that no more. But if there was a reason she might, perhaps it would be advantageous. Trembling in anticipation, Erik waited for his cue, when Christine had finished singing for a moment, to begin singing himself. "Flattering child you shall know me, see why in shadow I hide." The very sound of her voice could send shivers down his spine. She would torture him like this, reminding him of all that he had once had and all that he had lost. The last time he had sung this with her, they had been on a precipice, and since then they had gotten to know each other increasingly well. Those happy days! How he missed them! Could this be a new beginning?

For the moment, he finished his song with those few simple lines, for they were all those which were necessary, really, for the time being. Perhaps she would be willing to be tutored again. He needed to ascertain if she still believed that he was her father's angel of music. This was easy enough, because soon he heard that she thought exactly that. She asked him if he was her father's angel. It was the first time, truly, she had confronted him about it. Before she had seen him and kissed him and known him in physical form, but still it was possible that she thought him an angel, now that they were in a new place together. Surely she would not expect him to have come all this way. Would she? So she still wondered after all if he was her father's ghost. She requested a guide. Yes, he would be that for her. He continued, "Long I've been walking in darkness, and will be your guide." It was not a line which he had sung before, but that seemed appropriate, did it not? Something old and something new, then, just as his past was to determine now his future. So he hoped.

His song had ceased but his voice continued from the rafters. Perhaps it was best if he stayed here. He would keep up the same facade that he had kept earlier for a while longer. She had listened to it for years at the opera house, why would she not believe it now? He had the sinking feeling that if he showed his true self to her, she would be scared off, but this way, he could keep company with her. He would familiarize himself with her once more, realizing what she was like after two years, though she must not know him, not all at once. Perhaps he would reveal himself, slowly but surely. For now he would again be her tutor, as it pleased her. "This is no trick. I am back with you once more - your angel." He knew nothing of New York, but he still brought with him his love and knowledge of song, and his love of Christine. That was all he needed. Feeling a surge of power, he added, "What do you require of your angel?"

[christine]

Once her song was finished, Christine had gotten a chill. It felt like someone had opened the doors and let the cool breeze down. The voice she knew very well enough. Same voice that those very lines came all those years ago in her dressing room. Her eyes were now more widened. Somehow he was there with her. Christine looked around the theatre to see if she could spot him somewhere sitting. Perhaps in the back or so. No one was there. A light sigh escaped from her when he was finished singing.

It had been two years since she last saw him. Believing that he was dead, Christine was in shock inside. Not wanting to show it on the outside. Still sitting at the age of the stage, Christine looked behind her to see if he was there. Nothing. "Please, if you are the angel my father had sent me all those years ago, show yourself. I am not afraid" she said in a calm and relaxed voice. Hoping to see him again, Christine was right. It had only been too years, perhaps he looked different? Or the same as she remembered. "Wherever you are please come out" she said in a soft tone.

Christine had listened to him speak once more. His voice was soothing to her, and she remembered when she was a little girl, hearing that exact same voice in the chapel in the Opera House when she was praying to her father. "How did you find me!" she said a moment later. That was the reason why they left Paris. Well, and considering they had no where else to live. But to escape the Phantom. Apparently he had found her. "I require you to show yourself to me!" she said to the voice a moment later. Christine stood up and stood in the center of the stage, as she looked around. Christine sometimes would still hear his voice in her mind while she slept. She would be crying late at night and Raoul would be worried. Christine looked around "Please. that's all i ask, just come out from wherever your hiding." she said softly and gently. "I will not run away" she said as she scanned the audience section of the house.

[phantom]

"Whatever you seek is what you shall find,
The Phantom of the Opera is there -inside your mind."

So he had announced his name to her. She was certain to have determined his identity sooner or later. After all, his voice was the same, and she could not have forgotten it after hearing it in the form of her invisible tutor for so many years. There was no use trying to conceal himself any longer, because if she was asking him to show himself, she obviously did not believe that he was only an angel anymore. Perhaps she was not as innocent as she had been two years ago. The thought pained Erik. She was supposed to belong to him. Once, he had known everything about her. He had been her source of knowledge, and the power that had given him over her had been just as lustfully desired as everything else about her. The possibility that she had changed in his absence pained him. Could he have expected any differently, though? It had been two years - two agonizingly long years. He knew deep down, when he had let her go, that he had been doing what was best for her. But that couldn't comfort him anymore, now that he saw what he had missed.

She was a woman now. A most beautiful woman. Before, she had been sixteen, and that was still old enough - was it possible that she had grown even more beautiful? She had of course been a woman before, but now she was not as meek and naïve as she once had been, he suspected. He was not entirely sure what he thought about this. She said she was not afraid. Did that mean that she would not be afraid to see him, without causing her precious fop from interfering? To be fair, he owed something to said fop. He was the reason Erik had been able to find Christine again. He had warned them not to let anyone find them, but so important a person could not just disappear from Parisian society. How had he found her? Well, he could hardly answer that easily. It had been difficult indeed to find her, but Paris had not forgotten its star, nor let her leave unsung. Someone had found out that the Vicomte had left Paris for New York City, and it had not been impossible to assume that Christine had gone with them. The Vicomte had left a trail for Erik to follow, one that led straight to Christine.

She was pleading with him to show himself, promising that she would not run away, and he had no choice but to trust her. He could not deny her. He could not torture her the way she had tortured him. Using the elaborate pulley system backstage, he had in one motion deftly lowered himself down to the stage beside her. His dark cape whipped about dramatically as he made the leap. His knowledge of architecture and his years of working mysteriously behind the scenes at the opera in house had enabled him to complete these sorts of stunts, uninjured. Granted, he had not done them for two years or so, because he hadn't had the desire to sneak about the opera house when it was burned and empty - most importantly empty of Christine. Could he still call himself the Phantom of the Opera, now that he no longer haunted it? No matter, because he still haunted Christine, did he not? This was to be his home now: his home was wherever Christine was. He was standing next to her now, his breathing made ragged by his desire for her, and it was a struggle to control himself in her presence.

"My angel," he whispered, hardly able to sing anymore, so overcome he was by emotion at being with her again. But he could sing, so he did: "Sing once again with me, a strange duet. My power over you grows stronger yet. And though you turn from me--" His voice broke then and he began to cry quietly. He had no power over her anymore, did he? All he had left was the promise of a song and the promise to be her tutor once more. There were a few shabby stage tricks he had retained, but those were not enough to keep her captured here with him forever. She had turned away from him, at the opera house, and left him - and she could do so again at any moment. Once more he would be left alone. Brokenly, he cried, "Oh, Christine."

[christine]

Hearing the man's voice made her eyes widen. "No" she whispered to herself. Christine didn't know what else to do for a while. It had been two years since she last saw him. Having thought she had left him for good, Christine had no idea what to do. The rose. The Rose! Christine went to her purse and pulled it out for a moment. Staring at the black ribbon that was tied around it. He was here. "This cannot be true" she said a moment later. Christine was in mere shock and her eyes were widen still. Her legs were underneath her and she continued to wear her shoes as she did it. Christine had gotten used to the fact of kneeling with shoes, when she was in church one time.

The Phantom of the Opera she knew was no longer alive. Perhaps she was in a dream? Christine was so nervous and frightened inside that she didn't know what to do. As she sat willingly her back turned to the back of the stage, Christine held the delicate red rose in her hand. Her finger slowly went upon the black ribbon and she followed it to the end just like she had done in the past. Taking her hair down from the ponytail it was in, Christine looked around for him. Very unsure of what else to do. The Phantom's voice was very much like hers: Gentle and soothing. Christine's eyes continued to scan the theatre in search of him. Wondering where he was hiding.

Silence was between the voice and her now. Nothing but the wind drifted through theatre. Christine sat in silence, hoping this was a dream. Everything had changed since the last time they were together. Christine was married and was staring a new life in New York. A light sigh had come from her as she continued to fiddle with the ribbon on the rose. "This is impossible" she said a moment later to herself. Christine looked around once more and listened to him speak. Feeling him behind her she didn't turn around just yet. Still a little shocked at meeting him again.

Christine didn't know what to do as she listened to him sing behind her. Turning her head slowly to face him, she was in complete shock. Only her eyes showed it considering they were widened. Her eyes then softened as she heard him cry. It was heartbreaking to hear him do so. "Monsieur Le Angel" she said softly in French. Christine turned around to face him more now. Her back faced the audience and she looked up on him with no fear. Christine had no idea what to do for a moment. Her wedding ring was on her finger and she continued to look at him. Then she heard him say her name. "Oui, Monsieur what is it?" she asked in her gentle tone and soft voice. Then she didn't hesitate to place her delicate hand upon his shoulder. Christine sat there in silence.

[phantom]

Erik quivered when Christine took down her hair. He did not like the way it looked in a ponytail, so restricted. This was the wild mane of curly tendrils that he knew and loved, that he wished to run his fingers through while he kissed her and held her and made love to her. Seeing it freed that way made him wish he could also free Christine from whatever bonds held her. He watched her stroke lovingly the rose that he had given her, and he wished he could stroke the pale smooth petal of her skin in such a way. For a long moment, he was silent but for the sound of his ragged breathing as he watched her lustily. But he could not keep from her forever. He was beside her now, and she turned to face him, looking upon him with her wide and beautiful eyes and greeting him softly in French. He met her gaze steadily for a moment before ducking his head to cry in earnest. He did not want her to see this, what she had done to him. But he was forced to look up at her again eventually, because he could not keep himself from doing so - he had gone too long already without looking upon her beauty.

She put her hand on his shoulder and he flinched. He had not been touched in so long. She was the only one who had ever been given permission to touch him, and she was the only one who ever truly could. Her fingers burned his flesh through the fabric of his coat - he was reminded of the moments when they had been on stage together in the play which he had written, "Don Juan Triumphant," when he had played the title role, and she the girl he had been seducing, when the flames of their desire had threatened to "at last consume" them. He had, in that moment, pretended that it was all real, that he was the dashing Don Juan, that he had been handsome, and that she was willing to give her whole self for him, body and soul. But it had been nothing more than a play. He was not handsome, and she loved her handsome fop instead of him. What would his life be like if he was handsome? Would Christine love him then? He wished he could know. But maybe she was right in saying that the true distortion was in his soul. If only he could make that beautiful too.

Oh, how he had tried! He had given his all for her - and all for nothing. His music, his thoughts, his entire being; it revolved singularly around the angel-voiced soprano who had bewitched him. Even now as she looked into his eyes, he fell in love with her all over again. Entranced by her close proximity, Erik raised his trembling hand and caressed Christine's cheek through his silken glove, the silk black against her white face. She was a creature of the light, and he was a creature of the darkness. There had been a reason he had let her go free from his lair, from his world of darkness - perhaps she did not belong there; perhaps she feared that the darkness would snuff out her light. But her light was the only one in his darkness. The love and warmth and passion of the darkness in which he surrounded himself meant nothing if she was not there to share it with him. She asked him in the voice of an angel, which he knew so well, what she wanted. He only wanted her. "Christine, I love you," he sang quietly, his voice little more than a whimper.

In the darkness he looked searchingly into her eyes, trying to discern from her all the things which he wanted to know but could not bring himself to ask. Tenderly, he stroked her cheek with the thumb of his soft silk glove. Then, he began to sing to her gently, "Too long you've wandered in winter, far from my fathering gaze. You resist but the soul obeys. Angel of music, you denied me, turning from true beauty. Angel of music, do not shun me. Come to me, sweet angel. I am your angel of music, come to me angel of music..." It was one last plea for her to join him, but he knew that it was too late. Two years too late. He let his eyes leave her eyes for a moment, and let them wander over her glorious body. It was covered with clothes, nothing like the beautiful costumes she had worn on stage, but still he found her beautiful. Then he saw the ring. For a moment he stared at it, not entirely surprised that his suspicions had now been confirmed. "Your chains are not mine - you belong to him," he murmured sadly, realizing what the ring meant: she had married the other man. He looked up at her, his blue eyes filled with tears and hurt.

[christine]

Lifting her head up for a moment after he told her he loved her, Christine didn't know what to do. Last time she heard that was when she left with Raoul. Then he continued singing to her and she really so badly wanted to sing with him. Though, she wasn't so sure now. The part to where he said he loved her, he kind of shocked her with that. Christine looked at him again after he sang to her and said "Monsieur, I love you too, Though you made me go for my safety those many years ago. I didn't really wanted to leave Paris nor the Opera, but Raoul wanted me to go with him to be safer...as well. " she explained to him a moment later.

Christine then brushed passed a string of hair that was somewhat annoying to her now. Then he spoke to her, and raised an eyebrow. A soft sigh came to her and she said "Please don't say that.... Even though Raoul had been very kind to me, ever since we moved here Im still wishing some things were different" she said a moment later. Trying to make him feel better about this all. "I...I have been deciding to start my education here in this city...and...i've chosen something in the arts" she said a moment later. Wanting to say more Christine remained silent.

((sorry its short))

[phantom]

For a moment after this declaration was made, Erik stared at Christine in silence. "You... you love me?" he repeated, in disbelief. If she had loved him, all this time, why had she left? Then he realized: Because he had told her to. And he had, hadn't he? He had told her to leave with her fiance. Was it to save her from him? It certainly hadn't been to save himself from her, because he was not capable of extricating himself from his obession with her. Two years of torture, over! All a waste! Because of him! No - because of her fiance. Cursed boy! If he had not come along, everything would have been wonderful. Could she really have been with him this whole time? It seemed now that they had wasted all of these moments - if she really did love him. Surely she would not lie about such things! She would not - she could not - torture him anymore than she already had. Could she love him? With his hideous face and his distorted soul? Was it possible? There was only way to find out, and he had to find out now lest he be left wondering in agony forever. If, as she had said, she really did love him, then he had to make up for lost time.

He noticed her brush a piece of hair out of her face and he followed the movement of her hand to brush it out of the way with his own hand, so that their hands touched. As he did this he looked into her eyes intently. She did not wish to be told that she belonged to her husband? That was wonderful! Perhaps... perhaps... she might still belong to him. She wished things had been different? His heart began to beat rapidly. She went on to say something of her reason for being here, but it mattered not to him. Gently, he moved his silken glove to close her eyes. Then he slid his other arm around her waist and turned her to face the other way, drawing her back up to his chest and pulling her so that her body was flush with his. "Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams, purge your thoughts of the light you knew before - close your eyes till your spirit starts to soar!" Finishing on that old familiar high note, he was left with his lips dangerously close to her neck, when he continued more quietly, "...And you'll live as you've never lived before."

This song was his way of asking her if she would once again allow him into her life. Would she let him be her tutor? Or perhaps she would let him be more - her friend? Her lover? Would her pride allow her to return to him - two years later, after she had married the man of high society, when he had only love to offer? He had to know. His voice was soothing, silken, in her ear as he continued to serenade her with the old, familiar song. "Softly, deftly, music shall caress you. Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you. Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind, in this darkness you know you cannot find..." Had he haunted her dreams, like she had done to him? Had she dreamed, like he had, of being together? Every time he closed his eyes he saw her face, and he had dreams and nightmares of seeing her again, of simply being in her prsence once more. It was all he wanted, and what he needed more than anything in this world. "Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world. Leave all thoughts of the light you knew before. Let your soul take you where you want to be! Only then can you belong to me."

How desperately he wanted her to belong to him! He wanted to own her, to possess her body and soul, for her to belong expressly to him. But this could only happen if she permitted it. He could not have her forever standing there between him and the rest of the world, caught between light and darkness, between what she was expected to do and what she wanted to do, between the man who would take care of her and the man who desired her with a dangerous and uncontrollable passion. The Phantom of the Opera would not share. If she would not devote herself solely to him, then he could not have her. "Floating, flowing, sweet intoxication. Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation. Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in, to the power of the music that I write - the power of the music of the night." He needed her to trust him - he begged her to touch him, to return his tender caresses. He swayed with her now, a haunting dance. When he finished, he was begging her in a broken whisper: "You alone can make my song take flight. Help me make the music of the night."

((ooc: Sorry it's kind of odd - basically he just wants to know what she thinks of him and if she wants to have a relationship with him, and I thought the lyrics would express that. I need to give him some more original dialogue here eventually xP))

[christine]

A light smile appeared upon Christine's face. "Yes...Ever since I was a little girl. I've loved you, though, I always thought you were my father's spirit" she said to him softly. Christine had loved him all her life, but she was married now and didn't know what to do. Two years of her marriage had been going quite well. Leaning on a wall, she continued to sit on the stage, only a few feet away from him. Bringing her legs closer to her body and resting her arms around them. Still staring at him.

Suddenly he began singing to her again. Christine stared at him for a moment. The same stare she had for when he first brought her down to the lake underneath the opera house. His voice was soothing to her, and she would remember the first time he sang to her in her sleep. She was seven at the time it happened. Christine continued staring at him for a moment. Standing she felt him behind her not sure what to do. Looking around she felt somewhat nervous then couldn't help but touch his face like she did back in the Opera house first time. Christine felt everything that there needed to be felt upon his face. He still had his mask which was somewhat cold, and very soft.

Her head was rested against his shoulder as he sang to her. Christine was once again possessed with his voice. She had no idea what to think at this point. Christine tried not to close her eyes to the sound of his voice. How she missed it for those two years. Every night before she went to bed, she would hear his voice singing to her. But she would wake and he won't be there. Christine remained silent and just felt him singing and touching her. Christine looked around as he did so very unsure of what else to do. Even though she was in the midst of looking for a tutor perhaps she could ask him.

Christine then whispered to him after he was finished singing to her. "Erik...." she said in her soft voice. Then nothing else came from her. Christine sighed for a moment pulling away a moment later. Then turning around to face him. "I need to ask you something...Im looking for a college to go to and its going to be in the Arts. Perhaps...." she stopped a moment later. Christine looked down and then had her eyes l looking up at him and said "....you could be my tutor? I have been looking for one and lately all the positions of the tutoring had been filled. Your my only hope" she explained. Christine looked around then back at him. Knowing he had been an excellent tutor for her. Making her a star and everything. Christine waited patiently for a reply from him. Unsure of what else to do.

[phantom]

So she had loved him all along. This admission stirred Erik in his innermost being, made him quiver in happiness. Never before had she told him that she loved him. He had dreamed a few times of her saying it, and during those two years, his fantasies of her and what had actually transpired between them had mingled, making it hard to distinguish between the two. But now, hearing her say that she loved him was even better than he could have imagined, and he knew that it was real. She did not tell him she loved him in a way that was flamboyant or overly romantic - it was simple, sincere, and intimate; it was so purely Christine that he could not have wished for it to have happened any other way. They had known each other for so long before it had finally come to this, and now here they were, as if standing on some sort of precipice, about to fling themselves off of it into oblivion. Her voice was soft when she spoke, and he stared at her intently, his blue eyes piercing into her dark brown ones. She was so beautiful, he could hardly stand it.

And here she was with him, like nothing of the events of the past two years had really separated them. They were so breathtakingly close now, and though her arms were wrapped around herself as though in a protective way, Erik knew from Christine's words that she was opening herself up to him - she wasn't afraid of him; she loved him. He was disappointed that she had not answered his song with a song of her own, for his song had been a heartfelt plea. But he could not blame her for being unable to answer it. He supposed he was asking a lot from her. After all, he could give her nothing - he was ugly, he was poor (at least in comparison to her husband), and he had nothing to give her other than the fire of his love. But her touch, that was enough evidence of her trust; the way she caressed his face so tenderly made his heart soar, and when she leaned against him he knew she trusted him. That was what he wanted, but that was not all he wanted. What he wanted, however, he knew she could not give - unless she gave up everything. To be with him.

For this moment, it was enough. He did not have to worry about the future just now. Having her there in his arms was enough to make him happy, at that moment in time, when it was just the two of them. He stroked her hair gently, spooning around her, protecting her body with his own from whatever it was that might come in between them. Realistically, that would only be her husband, who was supposed to protect her from him. But how could Christine think that her true beloved was going to hurt her? She whispered his name and Erik closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her body against his, completely enraptured just to have her in his arms once more. They were silent for a moment before she spoke again, turning to face him. "Of course," he promised instantly. "Of course I will be your tutor." He took her hands in his and pressed a feverish, lingering kiss to each of them. It would be almost like it used to be between them - he hoped. "I would love nothing more." He placed one of her hands on his cheek and leaned into her touch amorously. "When will I see you, my angel?" Could he call her "his"? "Must you leave me now?" He paused, kissing her hand again, for it was all he dared to do. "Please - do not leave me. Not again." He dropped his head sorrowfully. He could not ask her to stay with him forever, he knew.

[christine]

Her shoes echoed across the stage, while she pulled away from him. Christine had no words to say at this point. As she slowly turned around she looked at him directly in the eyes. It had been two years since she last saw him and she didn't know what to say. Brushing passed another strain of hair out of her face, Christine cleared her throat a little bit. How could Christine not love him. For he had been her guardian angel for the longest time. He had followed her since she departed Paris. Christine looked at him for a moment. Studying him like she did when she first saw him.

Even though Raoul had been a good husband and protect her, he could not give her what she needed. What she needed was to be trained for the college she wanted to go into and also to become a staring actress as well. In the beginning Christine was very afraid of Erik. For one thing he had been tormenting her childhood friend and her lover right in front of her. How could she not be afraid. Christine now is more relaxed with him then ever. Leaning her back against the wall, she continued to stare and wanting willingly to say something. But nothing came out of her.

Silence remained for a few periods of time. Christine was trying so hard to think of what to say. After his response to asking him to be her tutor once again, she could only smile. Looking upon him Christine inhaled then exhaled with a long sigh. "Im not sure when we can meet again Monsieur. My husband as you know is Raoul, has been away lately. Perhaps you can come sometime next week. At night though. I'm not sure what times we can set up" she said a moment later. Folding her arms, trying to think the best way to meet him. "Do you have a place here in New York Erik?" she asked suddenly. Wondering if he was living anywhere, and maybe she could come and sing with him. Then she looked up at him when she heard him speak to her. It broke her heart to hear him say 'Not Again'. Walking towards him she wrapped her arms around his waist and said softly "I will always be with you. Not physically but in your heart" she said as she continued to hug him. How she missed him and then she looked up at him with a light smile. "What is it?" she asked a moment later. Worried a little bit unsure what was going through his mind.

[phantom]

Christine strode away from him, crushing his heart in her hand when she turned to look at him and played with her again. He found her so attractive when she did that. Why did she play with him like that - or did she even mean to? Why would she, if she loved him? And she did love him, she had said so - she had promised him. She was saying that Raoul was gone and she wanted to see Erik in his absence, in secret... So now Erik had to wonder: did Christine love her husband? Surely, he provided for her, but did he provide her with love? That seemed more important than money or clothes or status. Raoul loved Christine, he supposed, or at the very least he loved her singing. But did she love him? Well, how could she, if she said that she loved him, Erik? She offered him an explanation of why she had married Raoul, but Erik was not satisfied, and he did not understand either. He knew what it was like to be tortured for two years, separated from love, so he could not understand why Christine would willingly enter such torment - marriage without love - when in the process of doing so, she not only hurt herself but also the man she loved.

Christine's next words gave him pause. Raoul? ...Had been away recently? Erik suddenly felt a glimpse of hope. He could go to see her? At night? ...at night? Oh, he could not imagine anything more desirable! They could make the music of the night together - just as he had always dreamed since the moment he had met her. O, Night! His beloved and familiar night! Night was his dominion, the place where he felt safe, the place where he reigned. It was in it that he could have power over Christine. His heart began to beat a bit more rapidly, and when she requested if he had a place in New York, he answered breathlessly. "I have a place here, yes," he replied, the words which were supposed to sound as smooth and velvety as they usually did suddenly hitching in his throat. He paused, clearing his throat and taking a moment to regain his composure. "I would be honored if you would come to see it," he murmured finally. It was with difficulty that he got these words out, and Christine was not making things easier for him with what she did next.

Christine slipped her arms around his waist and he looked away, his jaw shaking with the effort to restrain himself. Her words touched him deeply, and he felt as though he was going to cry again. "I know," he whispered. "I know." He took his hand and slid it to her breast, placing it over her heart gently, so he could feel it beating through his glove and her clothes. Slowly, he raised his gaze to hers, then he closed his eyes. "Christine..." He looked almost pained by his intense desire for her. With their bodies pressed close together in such a way in this embrace, he could barely handle himself. Her tiny smile put him over the edge, and those soft smiling lips were in an instant captured in his. He kissed her long and deeply, not giving her the chance to push him away. His arms tightened around her, and he gave himself a chance to let his hands roam her body freely, grazing her body to rest again gently on her cheeks. He held her face now while he kissed her, exploring her mouth with his, taking his time, for it was the first time in two years that they had kissed. And after this, he did not know when he'd be able to again.

((ooc: if I god-moded too much I'll edit))