Erik - Chapter 2

To Be an Angel
A Phantom of the Opera PhanPhic by Ashley Penrod

Author’s note

I have never read a more beautiful story than The Phantom of the Opera. When it was put to Andrew Lloyd Webber’s beautiful score, it made the most perfect musical. I was so enthralled with the entire concept of the story, I decided one evening to write this fanfic. I tried my best to make it interesting, without adding the awful clichés that are often synonymous with fan fiction. But, hey, if you hated it with a true passion, you don’t have to tell me. I wrote it mostly for the sake of a friend of mine who loves POTO as much as I do. And she suggested I share it with other people who may stumble upon it. So, here it is. But, I really do hope you enjoyed it ?. If you have any comments, please feel free to e-mail me. Thanx!
Ashley
** “You always seem to be looking, it is a pity that you never quite manage to see.” **
- Erik (Susan Kay’s Phantom)

         “Today sucks. It sucks!” Angeline Crawford moaned, plopping onto her bedroom floor. “I have always dreamt of playing that role. I prepared for so long.” With these words, and the dim realization of the day’s events, tears began to flow freely down her cheeks in crystal rivulets.
    “Don’t cry, Angie. You should have known that stuck up Lisa would get the part. Her uncle is the director!” Leigh said, moving hurriedly to her fallen sister’s side. She reached one diminutive hand over and let it fall on Angeline’s shoulder, offering it a reassuring squeeze.
    “I should be Christine, though Leigh! You know it. That part, I love it so much. I deserve it!” She cried, lifting her hands in a dramatic motion and letting them fall in a helpless gesture against the jeans adorning her knees. She was well aware of the temper tantrum she was throwing, but at that point in time she could have cared less. Besides, her sister had seen so much worse than what her sister had to offer by way of disappointment now.
    “Who wants to do ‘Phantom of the Opera’ with Brad Wilkinson playing Erik anyway? The guy has more in his locker than in his head. And that doesn’t say much.” Leigh replied, letting her hand slide off of her sister’s shoulder. She patted her firmly on the back as. Angeline stifled a smile, still sniffling and wiping her dampened cheeks with the back of her hand. “Lets go out to eat. You’ll feel better. We’ll walk down to the McDonalds.”
    “I guess.” She reluctantly agreed, lifting her form off of the floor. Wrinkling her nose in disgust she began to sweep off particles of dust from the back of her jeans and glanced up at her sister. “Feeling the way I do now I will probably eat the whole restaurant.” The poignant pout would not leave her glossy crimson tiers as she crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly.
   “Yeah well, if you got the money honey, I got the time.” Leigh replied, tugging her sister out the door into the cool night air. It didn’t take the duo long to make their way down the busy strip that held all of the town’s array of fast food restaurants, and what Leigh thought might turn out to be a pleasant stroll turned out to be considerably otherwise as her sister relinquished one lengthened and melodramatic sigh after the other with almost every step they took. Finally, Leigh turned to Angeline and took her small shoulders into her hands, offering a small shake as she looked at her. The wind wreaked utter havoc on the mass of champagne that framed Angeline’s delicately sculpted face, and caused her to look all the more of a pouty mess as she stood there, peering at her sister.
   “Angie, come on. It isn’t so bad, there are lots of musicals to audition for. This is the only audition that you haven’t nailed and you are really acting like a baby about it. Honestly, there will be so many more chances.” Leigh said, releasing her sister’s shoulders. After a long moment, Angeline nodded in agreement.
   “I know, I’m sorry Leigh Leigh. It’s just…. you know Phantom is my favorite play, and I had worked so..” Her words were cut off quickly by a coarse and haggard voice filtering out of an alleyway just adjacent to them.
   “Pardon me, ladies?” Both girls turned to see the source of the tired inquiry, and their eyes fell upon the sight of an older woman, hunched over in the alleyway, her entire form adorned in such dark ebony that they had a hard time seeing her.
    “Yes?” Leigh said, moving closer to the woman and more into hearing range.
    “Please spare some money. I’m very hungry. And I’m very cold.” The old woman said, turning her face upward so that it was illuminated by the streetlight just above their heads. Both girls held back the threatening gasps that were building in their throats as their eyes fell upon the woman’s face. The skin was tautly drawn against her cheekbones, and the coloring was a sickly yellow. One of her eyes was completely shut, as if she had been hit so hard that it caused the entire crevice of her face to swell up and close, hiding the actual eye. There appeared to be no hairline indicated on the deeply wrinkled forehead, and whether or not she had hair at all was indistinguishable, because a black scarf covered up the majority of her skull. But the worse part of the woman’s face, was the great black hole that lay where there should be a nose. She looked like something that had been long since buried in the ground, and given the opportunity to fully decompose before it was buried up again and given reign to walk the earth once more. After a long moment of observation, Angeline moved closer to the woman and took hold of one of her arms, gently guiding her body up into a standing position and holding tight to her, steadying her so that she would not fall from her arms and hit the ground which had obviously been her resting place for some time.
   “Of course. Come with us, ma’am.” She said in the most gentle of timbres, guiding the woman along beside them. “We were just headed to get some dinner.” The three made their way to the McDonald’s and had their meal, and then made their way back to the girls’ house.
    “Where are we?” The woman asked as she was led inside of the great room, panic rising in her voice.
   “I would really like it if you would stay at my house this evening. You can get cleaned up and get a good night’s sleep.” Angeline replied softly.
    “Bless you child. You are so kind.” The woman said. Something akin to a smile formulated on the overly thickened lips.
   “You can go get cleaned up, maam. We have plenty of towels and everything that you will need in the cupboard.” Leigh said, taking the woman’s arm and leading her down the corridor and into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. As the woman showered, the two girls seated themselves on the den chaise and conversed.
    “The poor old soul. Her face, it is really awful.” Leigh said, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging her slender arms around them.
   “It was more than likely some sort of birth defect. Those things happen. With surgery it could be corrected…” Angeline replied.
   “I think it is a little late in her life for that, Angie. I mean she can’t have that much longer left.” Just as those words came from Leigh’s mouth, the woman emerged from the bathroom. A smile graced itself upon Angeline’s lips as she noticed how much younger the woman appeared now that she had cleaned herself up some. Although she wore the same dirtied garments, her entire form seemed to radiate glowing warmth from the considerable amount of cleaning that had been done. Of course, her face was the same as it had been before the shower, but all in all it was a very great improvement.
   “You are so good. The lord will bless you.” The woman said, moving over to the girls.
   “Our parents are out of town, so we can always use extra company.” Angeline smiled warmly and replied, moving over on the chaise to allow the woman somewhere to sit. She politely shook her head in a negative reply, and merely chose to stand there before the girls.
   “I would like to give you two something in return.” The woman said.
   “Oh no, we couldn’t.” Leigh said, shaking her head.
   “Please.” The woman said, her voice falling into a low plea. She looked to Angeline, a sudden intent building itself in that one visible chestnut eye. It seemed to gleam with new found discovery, or optimism.” There is someone else who needs you, my dear. He is a fallen soul, who has just lost everything. He is left with no reason to live now.”
   “But what can I do for him?” Angeline asked gently, trying to hold back the quizzical look that she desperately wanted to show.
   “He needs an angel of song, dear. His songbird has flown away, you see. He needs someone with him, to help him make his music. The music of the night.” She murmured wistfully, her face turning upwards in a far off gaze.
   “Uh…” Leigh said, starting to get a very strange feeling about the lady. She leaned over and whispered into her sister’s ear. “Music of the Night? Uh, no?”
   “Here.” The woman reached into a pocket of the dirt encrusted overcoat and began to dig. Angeline peered over at her, wondering what all was housed in that over sized pocket. Finally her face lit up with a realization and she pulled a small bauble from the pocket. She held it up and both girls noticed that it was a gold ring, with a shimmering onyx in the center of it. The light cast violet tinged light off of the ring and it seemed all the more valuable in the gleam. “Take this.” The woman said, and before any argument could proceed, she slid the ring onto Angeline’s lithe finger. It was, surprisingly enough, a perfect fit. It seemed to have been made with her measurements in mind. “Please keep this on…” The woman trailed off momentarily, as if thinking of a justifiable excuse for Angeline to keep the trinket on her finger. “It will bring you immense luck, I assure you of that. You will be surprised at the power of that little gem.” She said, eyeing the ring lovingly.
   “But why? I don’t understand.” Angeline said, holding her hand up to better examine the ring, before averting her questioning gaze to the woman before her. “What will this do?”
   “You, my child, will benefit from the journey as much as he.” She began to walk towards the door that dirtied overcoat brushing against the ivory carpeting as she opened it.
   “Stop, wait.” Leigh said quickly. The woman turned and offered them both a cryptic smile, as if she knew something that neither had yet to discover as of yet.
   “Remember. And bless you both.” She walked out the door, seeming to vanish before their very eyes into the navy night.
   “Just a senile old woman, I guess.” Leigh said quietly, watching the door intently as if expecting anything to pop through it at any moment.
   “Yeah, I suppose so. But this ring is, like, super cute. I think I saw something like it at Claire’s.” She held her hand up in a further examination. “It fits, too. How about that.”
Leigh shrugged slightly, still feeling deeply creeped out from the entire incident.
   “Well I don’t know about you, but I think I am more tired than I have been in ages. It has been such a trying day. Such a trying day.” Angeline said in an overly dramatic moan, sweeping theatrically up the stairs, one hand placed over her forehead in a gesture of internal turmoil.
   “Are you ever not on stage?” Leigh asked with a chuckle, following her sister up to their rooms. Slumber seemed more inviting than it had been in some time.

.
    Angeline felt the beams of the sun caress her face, urging her awake. She stretched and opened her eyes. And yawned. Then screamed.
   “Where am I?” She cried, her voice high pitched and drenched in panic. She looked beside her and saw Leigh. She shook her sister violently. “Wake up, man!” Leigh sat up hurriedly, still dazed from half sleep.
   “What?” She murmured, wiping at her eyes.
   “Where are we?!?” Angeline cried. Leigh fully awoke with her sister’s panicked words and looked around her.
   “Ohmigosh. I-I don’t know.” She whispered. “We’re in an alley.” The two hopped up from the concrete ground and looked around. The streets where completely unfamiliar. A few scattered people stared at them in disgust. But it was the very people that stared that were probably the most shocking part of all. They were all dressed extravagantly in period garb, completely decked out in flowing skirts, feathered hats, and tuxedo coats and suits. Every woman carried a parasol in her hand, as she held tight to the arm of the male to her adjacent side. The two stumbled out onto the street and ran headlong into an attractive young couple.
   “Excuse me.” The man murmured in Parisian tinted English. Angeline looked up at the handsome blonde man and the young woman to his side. She was exquisite with a flowing mane of chestnut cascading from underneath a cream colored hat. She seemed made to stroll on the arm of the distinguished and incredibly beautiful young man.
   “Are you two foreign? In Paris, we have a custom of wearing clothing.” The man said, glancing down at the girl’s attire with an apparent, undisguised disgust. Leigh’s bare midriff was fully exposed under a cropped top, and Angeline’s long legs protruded from under her shorts, her top displaying the Backstreet Boys. She’d bought the shirt only a month ago, at a concert, now using the garment merely for pajamas.
   “Lets go, Raoul. They probably don’t speak English.” The woman said. As the couple strolled hurriedly away, Angeline listened intently to their words.
   “Christine, did you gather all of your belongings from the opera house? I want to wed as soon as possible.” The man said.
   “Christine…” Angeline whispered.
   “Angie. Angie!” Leigh brought her sister abruptly back to reality.
   “Come on,” She dragged Leigh alongside her down the street, all the while never taking her eyes from the passing scenery. So unfamiliar was everything around them, yet Angeline knew exactly where they were.
   “Where are we going? We don’t even know where we are!” Leigh cried, resisting her sister’s insistent tugs to no avail.
   “I…think that I may know.” Angeline said, as the mysterious woman’s words rang in her head amid the sound of bustling passer-bys.
   “He needs you. He needs an angel of song. His songbird has flown away.”

   “Here it is.” Angeline murmured, her cerulean depths peering upwards at the immense architectural wonder just before them. The building seemed to overshadow every other to its sides with its extraordinary grandeur.
   “The Paris Opera House. We are in Paris!” Leigh cried out, recognizing immediately the building that her sister now dragged her into.
   “Come on.”Angeline said, pulling Leigh along into the two oversized oak doors that led them inside of the grand entrance hall of the opera house. There were a few scattered people roaming about in the building, most coming from the auditorium, so they received only a few odd stares.
    “I know the way. This is so crazy!” Angeline cried as she tugged Leigh along down the carpeted isle of the auditorium. They weaved their way through seats until they reached the backstage area, and found themselves almost immediately enveloped in the ominous darkness that had become so synonymous with backstage areas.
   “This place is so beautiful…” Leigh said, observing everything as they passed it on their pursuit. The two finally came to a row of doors on either side of a long corridor. Angeline moved purposefully to the third door and pressed it very cautiously open, grateful to find that it was unlocked.
   “This is it.” Angeline shut the door behind them as she spoke. They now stood in a darkened dressing room, with a large vanity in the center of it. Angeline walked right up to the vanity, and without casting her eyes downward to observe any of the personal belongings scattered on it, she ran her hand slowly over the large mirror, peering at her reflection but seeming not to even see it. “Here is the mirror.”
   “I know what you are thinking, Angeline. But, it’s just not possible. This is not a musical! Do you see any dancers or singers?” Leigh said, moving to her sister’s side and studying her incredously.
   “It is worth a try. How else do you explain all of this?” She delivered three sharp raps on the mirror, until her knuckles grew sore with the attempt. “Hello? Phantom? You home?”
   “Maybe he went to get his tux cleaned.” Leigh muttered scornfully. She didn’t know what was going on, but she knew well that her sister was making a fool out of herself.
   “Ah yes.” Angeline worked her hand along the outside rim of the mirror, trailing her fingers along the backside of it. She felt the latch and let out a small cry of excitement as she released it, and the mirror flew open. Behind it was sheer darkness that neither girl could see through.
   “I knew it! I was right!”Angeline cried excitedly, pulling her sister once more along the banks of the great man made lake until they saw the boat there.
   “A crazy dream. That’s all. That’s all this is.” Leigh chanted as she was shoved into the boat and Angeline began to furiously row it, pumping the long stick into the water with such purpose that it seemed she had done this one hundred times before. Perhaps she had, in the many crazy dreams that Leigh knew her sister to have. In fact, that was all that this was right? Yet another crazy dream. Leigh swore to herself that she would never have Chinese food in the middle of the night again. This MSG induced hallucination seemed entirely too real.
   “Oh,” Angeline gasped as the boat hit the ground on the other side of the lake. A huge house loomed there in front of them, shadowing over them. The darkness surrounding it was as ominous as the mist floating around them.
   The two got out of the boat and walked up to the huge door, Leigh dragging her feet along as Angeline seemed to bounce with excited energy at every step that she took. Angeline knocked. No answer. Again. Nothing.
   “Please answer! Please!” She cried, rapping hard now against the oak door. “Um, we are lost, please help us.” She shrugged to her sister as she called the words out. The door opened slightly, and a brilliant cobalt eye peered out at them.
   “How did you find me? How did you find this place?” A hoarse, yet deeply melodic voice demanded. It seemed that it had not even come from behind the door; rather it surrounded them on all sides in an enwrapping flow of perfectly provisioned syllables.
   “Please allow us to come in and I will tell you.” Angeline pleaded. He eyed them suspiciously.
   “Why should I let you in? Who are you?” He demanded, his voice growing impatient.
   “Please…I promise we are lost, and there is a long story to be explained.” Angeline said, her voice also growing in desperation. He had to let them in. After a long moment of contemplation (all of it Leigh spent deciding that they were about to have the door slammed in their face) he finally opened the door and stepped back from it to allow them both entry. They made their way into the immense room and studied every single inch that met their eyesight. The room was illuminated by a mere few candles that were scattered along table ends, and an enormous organ sat in the center of the room.
   “You are him. It is not possible.” Angeline murmured, more to herself than for the sake of the two to either side of her. “I should have known what the woman was saying.”
   “Please explain what business you have with me.” He demanded, crossing his muscled arms over his ruffled ivory dress shirt.
   “I-I, well that is, um..”
   “Out with it, young lady.” He said gruffly, his crystal voice ringing out in the large room.
   “I need you to teach me!” She blurted out without another moment of hesitation, or thought for that matter. “To sing, I’m a singer.”
   He stared at her for a long moment, quirking a brow in obvious skepticism. “Many people think that they are singers.” He finally said. “What makes you any different?”
   “Nothing, I guess. But I know that I was sent here.” She said simply, in a matter-of-fact tone.
   “Sent here? By whom?” Again, he was more so suspicious and never let his eyes leave Angeline. Leigh stood just behind her, grateful that she was not being inquisitioned. Might as well let her sister explain everything. It was her dream. And she was the actress.
   “It is a long story.” She murmured.
   “I can listen. I have let you in my home have I not?” He replied. After seating herself and Leigh on the chaise alongside the organ, she re capped the entire tale of the old woman to him.
   “This, I believe, may have had an important part of my sister & I ending up here.” She handed him the black ring.
   “My ring….” He whispered in a coarse voice. “When she returned it, I flung it into the water. How did you get it?”
   “The old woman gave it to me.” She said simply. He was silent for another long, contemplative moment.
   “You spin a wild tail, child.” He began. “I do not know how you got my ring, but you have intrigued me. I suppose that I can listen to you sing.” So happy with his decision, she did not argue about her his disbelief of her story. She applauded once and let out a little cry of excitement. He quirked a brow at her obvious enthusiasm. No one had ever been so anxious to allow him to hear them.
   “Well, go ahead.” He said. Leigh, who had sat silent, raised her eyebrows in interest. Angeline thought for a long moment as she slowly slid her form onto the piano bench in front of the great organ. Only she would be stupid enough not to have a song prepared at a time like this.
    Idly she pecked out a few keys to help her think. Then she nodded, seeming to have decided, and began to play the intro to Brian McKnight’s “Back at One”. She took a breath to begin singing when Leigh, having held it back since her sister began to play, burst into laughter. Erik and Angeline stared blankly to her.
    “What?” Angeline growled hatefully.
    “Oh, nothing.” She said, wiping her eyes. “It’s just that, it’s the 19th century and you are about to sing for…well, for him. And you’re singing,” *Snicker, snicker* “Back at One!” She laughed heartily. Seeing her point, Angeline stopped playing. Erik looked very confused.
   “Now see here, ladies, I don’t feel up to playing silly games with…” He began. Angeline cut him off.
   “I got one now.” She said, flexing her fingertips and resting them on the keys. She allowed her fingers to run over the starting chords in a slowed ritard, before picking her pace up slightly. The introduction, she had always felt, was the most beautiful part of the piece. After a drawn out two measures, she began to sing Schubert’s Ave Maria.
Ave Maria
Gratia ple na
Maria, gratia ple na
Ave, Ave! Dominus, dominus te cum
Benedicta tu in muli e ribus
She closed her eyes to better visualize the sound of her voice as it rose and fell with the crystal clarity that had become her trademark among all that she sang for. The star first soprano in choir, the consistent soloist, the future operatic diva, everything shone in these lines as she allowed her voice to crescendo and soar as it never had before. She had barely noticed that she had continued to accompany herself on the piano. She ended the piece with a decrescendo, along the ending A to fall into a scarcely audible piano before slowly trailing her fingers over the ending chords, allowing the enchanting last notes to cling thickly in the air. Then, silence.
   She awaited his opinion, finally opening her eyes and glancing over to him. He merely stared blankly at her.
   “Well?” She implied.
   “Um, yes.” He straightened his composure readily, clearing his throat. “Your voice is quite lovely. It has a golden quality. How old are you?”
   “I’m eighteen.” She replied.
   “Well, that is quite impressive. If I helped you, we could defiantly make you a glorious singer. Now, we can start with…” He paused and thought for a long moment, then shook his head and stood abruptly from the chaise.
   “No. No, I can’t help you, I’m sorry. Please leave now.” He walked quickly from the room.
   “Wait!” Angeline said. Leigh shrugged, looking as confused as her sister. Angeline hurried after him and into his bedroom.
   “Why? Why can’t you help me?” She demanded.
   “I thought that I told you to leave.” He growled, turned to the mantle and slightly leaning his upper torso against it.
   “I was sent here for a reason.” She said imploringly.
   “Stop saying that. It is a clever story, but making it up will not cause me to tutor you. Go back home, little girl.” He remained turned from her, his voice cold
   She approached him and touched his shoulder gently. He tightened. Realizing that she might have overstepped her boundaries, she dropped her hand.
   “I know how you were betrayed, and how she left you brokenhearted. But you don’t have to turn away from me because of Christine Daae. I will not leave. I just want to learn.” She said softly.
   “How did you know that?” He asked, not angrily, but curiously, turning to face her.
   “I know all about you.” She said.
   “You must be a friend of Christine’s.” He muttered coolly.
   “No, I’m not. I’ve never even met her. Well, I have, but I’m not her friend. Please trust me. You must.” She pleaded. “Please teach me.”
   He thought for a moment and relinquished a long sigh. “All right, I will teach you.” He consented. “What is your name?”
   “I’m angelin--. I’m Angel.” She answered.

   “You may stay here. I have extra room. I kept it furnished for Chris-.” He stopped for a minute. “You two will stay in here.” He said after a moment, and then opened the door to a large room with a canopy bed. “In that closet, there is an ample amount of clothing for the both of you that I have gathered over the years.” Leigh desperately wanted to ask him why he would collect women’s clothes, but she didn’t.
   “Thank you.” They said in unison.
   “Angel, we will start your lessons tomorrow. I will see you both in the morning. Good evening.” He shut the door and left the two alone in their splendored boudoir.
   “Oh my gosh! I can’t believe this is happening! I am going to take voice lessons from the Phantom of the Opera!” Angel said, clapping her hands excitedly.
   “No, Angie. This is all a dream and we will wake up soon.” Leigh argued, nodding to further her point.
   “Leigh, that old woman made this happen. Don’t you see? This is no dream.” She sat on the bed alongside her sister, a wide smile brushing against those brightened features.
   “It is not theoretically possible!” Leigh said simply, using her hands in vivid gestures with her words. Leigh often spoke with her hands. Angeline teasingly swore that her sister knew a brand new version of sign language, and it would take the world no time to figure it out merely by watching her speak. “This is not possible. We must be dreaming. I mean, it’s all like a B rated sequel.” Leigh murmured. “A B rated dream sequel.” She stubbornly added, letting those fluttering hands cross over her chest. Angeline stood up and walked to the closet.
   “Dream or not, I intend to enjoy it. Lisa may be Christine in her Uncle’s play, but now I am Christine!” She leaped happily and did a little pirouette, falling onto the bed.

Erik listened to them talking, standing just outside of the door. Somehow he had finally managed to capture his breath, resting his hand over his chest. Her singing had brought to him the most lengthened sense of euphoria that he had not felt since the last time he had heard Christine’s voice soar over his accompaniment. The girl, wherever she had come from, was simply amazing. And he knew, in all reality, that he could not pass up the opportunity to take that untapped talent and mold it out to be the greatness that was surely destined. Although, He did not know at all what to make of the little songbird that had somehow fluttered into his life. He had always been a logically thinking man, but he knew well that magic in some forms existed, and that all things were somehow possible. Perhaps the two girls had come from another time. Did God finally see it fit to give him happiness and send him a new angel? A kind angel, who seemed to want nothing more than to have him teach her, and share in her voice’s growth and development?
He would not discount anything, but he was sure that he could not let the girl get too close to him. God had never loved him, and why should he send him anything now, when he had reached his last resort? Even suicide seemed too fair a fate for him to suffer now. Besides, what everyone said had been proven to be true, on far too many accounts. What beautiful and wonderful young woman would want him to be close to him?

   The next morning they began her training. He started her off on some of his favorite operatic pieces that he had written. He was more than pleased to learn that Angel could read music with ease, so he did not have to waste any time. At the end of each day, she seemed to become more & more of a wonderful singer. She truly was a prodigy, he believed. She had a beautiful seven-octave range, even before her training. After a month, he was shocked at the transformation that had taken place in her voice. Angel was as strong of a singer as…..she had been.
   “I am very impressed.” He said to her one evening as the three sat over a meal in the dining area. “You have transformed into a true singer in only a matter of a few short weeks.” He seemed genuinely pleased, which made Angel very happy and proud. He was not one for praise, and what little that she occasionally did receive from her tutor was a treat beyond any she had ever received. She remembered the way that she had cried so very hard for the poor Phantom the first time that she had ever seen the play. She wished that she could have re-written a different ending. Now that she had the chance, she intended to do just that.
   “You know, they often have openings for new singers here at the theatre, and you have yet to audition. Because of your age and talent, they would surely consider making you a prima donna singer. You would be a world renowned with a few performances under your belt, I’m quite certain of it.” He said, his tone completely assured in the words he spoke.
   “Do you honestly think that I can do that?” Angeline asked, her heavy lidded sapphire orbs widening slightly with the suggestion.
   “I know that you can.” He replied matter-of-factly, as if she should have already known that.
   “I may do that.”
   “You will do that. As your teacher, I am making you.” A slight grin formed against those sensual lips as he spoke.
   “Oh, yes sir.” She said, giving him a playful push against his arm.
   “I have the perfect song for an audition. I do believe it was written just for you.” He got up and walked to a small bookshelf. He pulled sheets of music from a dusty leather portfolio.
   “I call it ‘Wherever You Are’. It is a song of lost love.” He put the music on the piano and began to play and sing. The melody was the most beautiful that she had ever heard, although she found the lyrics a little trite, albeit entirely honest. Like pure driven emotion. At an instrumental break, he spoke to her softly, his lithe digits racing over the keys. “Sing, Angel.” He said. After a rest she began to sing the lyrics, reading the beautiful melody from the page. Soon, he joined her in an exquisitely dissonant harmony.
   “Wherever you are
    I will be with you
   You cannot leave true love behind
    Where I stand
    Does not matter
    If you aren’t by my side.”
    He ended the accompaniment with a grand crescendo, as Angel held her breath. “It is the most beautiful song that I have ever heard.” She murmured, her voice dropping low.
   “You make it soar, Angel. Your voice makes this song complete.” He said. “You will sing it?”
   “Of course I will. I would be a fool not to. I am honored that you have allowed me to sing it.” She said.
   “If I didn’t have you sing it, I would be the fool.” They stared at one another silently for a few long moments, as if unable to avert their gazes anywhere else.
    She cleared her throat and began to fidget slightly in her place. She found herself suddenly overcome by a deepening sense of modesty. She had no clue where it came from, shyness had never been a virtue in her life. “Um, well, I need to go and speak with my sister.”
   “Certainly, but dinner is soon.” He said, turning from her and facing the organ once more, letting his fingers rest against a chord, but not yet pressing down to allow the sound to become audible. As she made her way back to the bedroom, he sat there, still not playing. A long contemplative silence overtook the room, and he would rather that it remain that way.
   She seemed so perfectly comfortable with him. She was never repulsed or frightened by his touch as he guided her through a song. In fact, she seemed to welcome his touch. He had been terrified of this when he first met her and heard her sing.
   “Melancholy nonsense, you fool.” He muttered to himself, shoving aside all thoughts that contradicted it quickly, and falling deeply into an improvisation that told all the words he would dare not think.

   “I want to try out to sing here. At the opera.” Angeline said as she opened the door to the back bedroom. She tossed herself haphazardly onto the bed and let her headrest against a satin pillow, her cascade of champagne ringlets spilling out around her contentedly expressionate face.
   “Are you a psychopath?” Leigh lifted her head from the desk where she sat. She had been deeply engrossed in some aging novella in her hands. Normally, Leigh was entirely oblivious to the world around her when her head was in a book, so Angeline knew that her words had made some sort of impact. Leigh continued, placing the book gingerly on the desk and turning fully to face her reclining sister. “Or have you forgotten? We have a family at home. I have a life, you have a life. You have a boyfriend, too. Oh, I’m sorry, did you forget him? I am not surprised. Prom is in two weeks, Angie. It used to be all you talked about.”
    “Things have changed, Leigh. I’ve changed. There are other things now. I mean, some things are more important than deciding to wear a strapless gown or not.” Angel murmured, never casting her sapphire eyes away from the ceiling above her head.
    “You’re falling for Erik, aren’t you? That’s what all this is about.” Leigh said matter-of-factly, crossing her slender arms over her chest in that Leigh is always right manner that Angeline had come to despise.
   “Well, didn’t you fall just a little bit in love with him when you saw ‘Phantom of the Opera’ for the first time on Broadway?” She replied, finally averting her gaze from the ceiling and placing it on Leigh as she sat up, cocking her head in anticipation of the positive response she knew that she would receive.
   “Of course I did. Every woman in that audience did. But that is the key word, Angie, audience. It was just fantasy put to music. It was not real. This is real. Somehow, someway, we are in this story. And, or so it apparently seems to me, you have fallen in love with the Phantom of the Opera, Angeline. He is not a just a story anymore.”
   “Don’t you think I know that?” Angeline replied, leaping to her feet in a melodramatic flourish. “Don’t you think that I have realized that already? Yes, it scares me, Leigh. All of this scares the mess out of me. I do not know why it is happening, but it is. And that’s just the fact of the matter.” Her voice fell sickly sweet and she nodded along with her words.
   “He is a great guy, I agree. And normally I would give you my blessings and hope you two have a great life together. But, this is not normal. Besides, he is far too old for you. He is nearly thirty, Angie. You know that we are in a time that is not ours. We will not stay here forever, we can’t. Mom & dad are probably crying their eyes out. We are probably declared dead by now.”
   Angeline paused then and merely sat there in a silent reflection. She felt horrible then. A singular thought of her parents had not even crossed her mind while she had been there. She had been so deliriously happy with the opportunity set before her that she had grown selfish. They must be ready to die about now. Both of their daughters, their only children, were gone without a trace. She had been so selfish! How could she not think of her parents, probably weeping helplessly at that very moment?
   “But I can’t leave him.” Angeline whispered, turning from her sister and gazing at her reflection for a long moment in the mirror. “He has no one. And I love him. I always have.”

He had been standing in that archway for at least ten minutes. His intent had not been to stand outside the door like an eavesdropping child, he had merely been strolling past and heard his name spoke. Human curiosity made him pause in his steps and perk that almost preternatural hearing to their words.
“Mom & dad are probably crying their eyes out. We are probably declared dead by now…” Young Leigh said, her tiny voice growing more and more distressed with every word. But Angel’s reply had been what had almost caused his heart to fall to his feet. She had claimed that she loved him. He heard Leigh’s annoyed huff and the sound of her feet against the tiled floor as she stood and began to pace. He could envision the teenager fuming as she walked up to her sister.
“You’re in love with a story!” She exclaimed. “You barely even know this man, all you know is the books you’ve read and the musical you saw on Broadway. You don’t know anything about the real man. Hell, is all this even real? I mean honestly, I don’t even know anymore. I just want to sleep and wake up again in my nice, warm, twenty first century bed!” He heard her fall into the chair she had originally been sitting in. Silence dominated the room thickly for a moment before Angel spoke again.
“Leigh.” She said, her voice alluringly soft. Anyone could fall asleep in the safety of that soothing timbre. “Look at this opportunity…even if it is a dream, I don’t want to wake up just yet. This is what I have always dreamed of.”
“Always? No. You have dreamed of this since January fourteenth, nineteen ninety-six. Your twelfth birthday, at the Majestic Theatre in New York City when you saw Phantom of the Opera for the first time. You talk like you have dreamed of this twilight zone since you were old enough to exhale.”

   All that Christine Daae thought of was him. Her beloved angel of music. Why was she so foolish? Why had she left the man that she truly did love?
   Her mind raced as she made her way to the opera house. She prayed that he was okay, and horrible images flooded her weakened mind with every step she took, closer and closer to her inevitable destination. What would she find there?
   “He has to be alive. He has to.” She whispered to herself, her voice deeply determined. Christine Daae had always somehow gotten her way, spoiled Swedish child that she had always been, but somehow she knew that this time she had well stepped over her boundaries and she may not receive what she so badly desired now. The crystal tears falling down her cheeks had grown into cold icicles covering her alabaster skin, and she absently raised one hand up to sweep the bothersome little droplets away as best as she could. She paused just in front of the opera house and merely stared at it for what seemed to be the longest, most contemplative hours. Without further hesitation, she rushed into the opera house and went straight to her old dressing room. The smell of the theatre was one of fond memories. She thanked the Lord above that no one was in the theatre to see her return. She touched the mirror and let her hand slide down the glass. So many memories.
   She moved with robotic grace into the boat, past the moors, and ascended those familiar steps which would lead her to the immense house that had been her “prison” when she first discovered that her angel was actually a mortal man. It had all began to disintegrate then, her foolish childish fantasies had been ruined. And so, she had ruined her one real chance at love by running away with someone else. God, how foolish she had been. Would a chance to make it right be hers now? She raised one hand and rapped sharply on the door three times.
   “Are we expecting company?” Angeline asked Erik. He peered up from the organ and cast those cerulean orbs to the door, a clouding overtaking his expression.
   “No.” He answered darkly.
   “I’ll go.” She said, standing up from the chaise where she had been reclined with the tattered novella she had been so enwrapped in. Leigh stood alongside Erik, holding her breath. He was, after all, a wanted murderer, and the person behind that door could be anyone.
   She opened the door with slow purpose.
   “I am Christine Daae.” Erik heard the woman at the door say. “I am here to Erik.”
   “I, um, hold on.” Angeline turned to Erik. He stood up slowly, his eyes widening.
   “Christine?” He whispered, disbelieving that the sight in front of him. Angeline noticed that Christine had walked in and swept right past her to Erik.
   “Angel, you are alive.” She murmured, touching the bare side of his face in utter revelation.
   “I…I can’t believe it. Why are you here?” He asked breathlessly.
   “I came back because I love you. I was a fool, angel. I never married Raoul because I realized that I love you. I love you more than anything. I want to be with you.”
   “You do?”
   “Yes. I was such a fool, Erik. But I am back.” She embraced him as he stood there a moment, wondering if the warm body in his arms was real. Realizing that it was, he embraced her with more intensity than her tiny form had offered him. “I have missed you so.” She said. After their display, Erik glanced up to see Angel sitting alongside her sister. Her face, framed by her angelic blonde curls, looked fallen, and years older.
   “Angel,” He whispered. Christine looked at the young, new rival oddly. “I, I…”
   “Don’t feel like you have to say anything to me, Erik. Your love is back. I am so happy for you.” She forced a smile that looked as real as any other that she had given him. She would defiantly have to get back on the stage when she got home, her acting skills seemed to grow more and more with each passing day full of experience.
   “But, I do not want to lose you, Angel.” He said very simply. Christine wondered why he was calling her angel, and jealousy welled up inside of her. He moved to Angeline and stroked her beautiful face. She reached up and touched the mask on his face. She lightly pulled it off, and he did not try to stop her. She reached up and stroked his face, as if there was nothing wrong at all with it. She then kissed his cheek, as a daughter might do with her father.
   “I do love you, Erik, but you belong to her. And she belongs to you. Whereas I, well I belong to another time. And, another age group. I am so happy that your songbird has come home to you. Now, I will return to my world. A world that I wish you could share. Where you are not crucified for your appearance. You can be hurt just the same, believe me. But it is, in some aspects, a kinder world. Just remember me. Maybe think of me now and then.” She turned to her sister. “Well, let’s get out of here then.” She said, tugging slightly at her sister’s arm and moving quickly to the door. Angeline turned back to him just before walking out of that house. “I want to thank you, Erik, for making me an angel of music. I will certainly never forget it. Oh yeah,” She pulled the black ring off of her hand. “I do believe that this belongs to you. Kinda ironic, isn’t it?” She smiled slightly and tossed it to him, watching him catch it with some amount of ease. He would have probably been a great baseball player…
   “Yes, I guess it is.” He said. “Goodbye, my Angel. I will never forget you. Rest assured.”
   “Name your daughter after me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to go build the Titanic, before I am beaten to it.” She said, and walked out the door as Christine kissed her angel of music once again.

   “Dude, where do you plan on us going now? Are we really gonna go build the Titanic?” Leigh asked hopefully as they got into the boat, her entire expression brightening with opportunity.
   “Wow, Leigh, you really are a twit.” Angel murmured almost incredously. “Besides, I didn’t think of where we’ll go. Man, I really don’t know. All I know is that I did not want to mess up that beautiful scene in there by sticking around.” She smiled as Leigh rowed them to shore. She glanced back at Angeline and quirked an ashen brow.
   “That was so dramatic. Like a play. You must have loved it.” She said.
   “Yeah, I guess I kinda did. All the world’s a stage, like they say.” Angeline whispered, staring back at the house.

   “I suppose you ladies are ready to go home now.” The old lady said when they walked out of the opera house and onto the Parisian streets outside of it.
   “How, in the world, did you get here?” Leigh asked, shaking her head almost as if she had expected as much.
   “Never mind about that. Just come with me.” She led them to the alleyway where they awoke when they first learned that they were in 19th century Paris.
   “Just sit down and close your eyes.” The woman said simply. “And I will transport you home.”
   “Do we have to click our heels three times too?” Leigh asked.
   “Shhhhh.” The woman said. Moments later, they were no longer in that alleyway, but lounged out on their couch, in their bedroom.
   “Whoa. We are home again.” Leigh said. Angeline rushed downstairs and turned on her TV to the news. “And it is the exact day we left! Time stood still while we were there.”
   “Were we ever even there?” Leigh wondered aloud, following slowly behind her down the stairs.
   Angeline wondered the same thing. Tired and confused, she made her way into her bedroom to lay down a while, making shapes on the ivory ceiling before her. There was too much to think about now, and she felt her eyes drooping more and more with each passing moment that she spent awake.
   When she woke the next morning it seemed that all was back to normal. They had their usual hurried breakfast, went to school, socialized, and returned home. Leigh dropped Angeline off at their doorstep and offered her a helpless shrug.
   “Sis, I have to go somewhere with Josh. He is going through one of his little crises. I will be home in a bit, okay?” She said, and before Angeline could reply, Leigh’s boyfriend Josh had pulled up in the driveway to pick her up.
   Laughing slightly, Angeline walked inside and tossed her things onto the couch. Making her way up the stairs, she noticed that her entire form seemed to feel heavy with a slight depression. Already, she longed to return to that opera house. Had any of that even happened? The more that she tried to remember the happenings of the following day, the more obsolete they seemed, and she could scarcely remember anything of the past events. It was as if it all really had been a dream…
   As soon as she opened the door to her bedroom she saw it. On her bed were a long stemmed rose and an envelope. She lifted the envelope with trembling hands and it seemed to take her every bit of five minutes to get it unsealed. Inside was a copy of the sheet music to “Wherever You are” and a small piece of paper. Delicate script covered the yellowing stationary, and she reveled in the words as she read them aloud, in a coarse whisper.
   “Here is your song, my Angel. Do with it what you will, for it is yours, and it will never be played again without your beautiful voice singing it.”
   It was signed O.G.

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