Author's Note: This story was inspired by a passage in my parody, "The Price of Fame," in which Erik tells Angel about a certain gift Christine gives to him during her stay in the lair. Unlike "The Price of Fame," this story is not a parody, and I have attempted to explore the darkness in Erik and Christine's relationship as well as the sweeter moments. Originally I was going to post it as a one-chapter story, but I think it might be a bit long, so I will post it in two parts.

Disclaimer: The characterisations are mainly taken from Leroux, with some references to Susan Kay's novel (I have used a quote from her novel in the story). The opening of this story was inspired by Suzy McKee Charnas' wonderful (in my opinion) novella, "Beauty and the Opera or The Phantom Beast."

I have also attempted to make my Erik a serious version of Angel in "The Price of Fame," meaning that he has some of the same personality traits, but he is not obsessed with doughnuts. If you have not read this story and therefore have no idea who Angel is, don't worry. What follows will still make sense.

Dedication: This story is dedicated to Midasgirl, who gave me the idea, and to all the phans on the phantomfans messageboard who contributed ideas for Erik's nightmare. Thank you!

I hope you enjoy this story! All those who review will be given doughnuts.

'The Locket' – Part One

Christine shifted uncomfortably in her dining chair. She was not hungry, but she was too nervous to excuse herself from the table. Instead she picked hesitantly at the contents of her plate; a brown and yellow substance which she was unable to identify.

Her companion sat across the table from her, devouring his food in a surprisingly enthusiastic manner. He wore no mask, and his deformed mouth twisted strangely with each new bite, occasionally causing the food to dribble down his chin. Christine kept her gaze on the flower arrangement in the centre of the table, afraid to meet his eyes, afraid to betray her revulsion.

Finally, Erik put his fork down, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and stared at Christine suspiciously.

"What's the matter, my dear? Is the food not to your liking?"

Christine nodded hastily. "Oh, yes! It's delicious, Erik, really."

Erik smiled proudly. "Thank you. Cookery is one of Erik's many skills!"

Christine nodded again, but said nothing more. Erik, disappointed that she had not responded with further praise, searched desperately for another way to gain her attention.

"And do you like the flowers?"

Christine smiled weakly. "Yes, Erik. They're very pretty."

Erik bowed his head modestly.

"Oh, my dear, you're too kind! You're embarrassing me with your praise! But I must admit I have always had a gift for flower arranging and interior decoration of all kinds! And what about the candles? Do you like the candles, Christine?"

Christine looked up at Erik. He was staring at her quite innocently, apparently unaware of the annoyance he was causing. His deformed lips were contorted into a hopeful smile, and his sunken eyes were staring pleadingly into hers. Christine relented. It was always best to tell Erik exactly what he wanted to hear.

"Yes, Erik. I love the candles. In fact, I love everything about this dinner. It's absolutely perfect."

Erik's smile broadened, and his eyes seemed to fill with a warm, golden light. At first, Christine had thought Erik's eyes only glowed in the dark. She had soon realised her mistake. Erik's eyes would glow whenever he was experiencing some intense emotion, such as anger, joy, pain, or love. Christine found them frightening yet strangely entrancing, like everything else about this odd, malformed creature.

"My dear, I don't know what to say!" Erik exclaimed, blushing a darker shade of yellow. "You have rendered Erik speechless with your kind words!"

Good, thought Christine. Perhaps now I'll finally have some peace.

"Christine?"

Christine groaned inwardly. "Yes, Erik?"

"I love you."

Christine shivered slightly, and looked back down at her plate.

"I know."

Erik waited for her to continue, to say the words he longed so desperately to hear, but they did not come. He sighed deeply, and then sprang up from his chair, suddenly filled with the nervous energy which always made Christine feel deeply uncomfortable. Then he started to clear the table in an over-enthusiastic manner, spilling his homemade yellow slime on the table cloth as he did so.

"Well, that was a rather successful meal, if I do say so myself!" he said, in a ridiculously cheerful voice. "And now, my dear, I think we shall retire to the drawing room. We'll rest for a while, and then I'll give you your next lesson…"

Christine stood up. "Forgive me, Erik, but would you please excuse me from my lesson tonight? I'm very tired."

Erik was deeply disappointed, but he managed to smile at Christine politely.

"Of course, my dear. Would you like me to sing for you instead?"

"That's very kind of you, Erik, thank you. But I could really do with an early night."

"Then I'll sing you to sleep."

Christine shook her head quickly. "No, it's all right. I'll be fine, really…"

Erik's smile faded. The light in his eyes suddenly died, like two candles being snuffed out simultaneously.

"You don't want to spend time with me, do you?" he whimpered. "Did I do something wrong? Does poor Erik still frighten you?"

Christine sighed again. She could never excuse herself from Erik's company without him interpreting it as a rejection.

"No, darling, of course not," she replied, as gently as she could. "I enjoy spending time with you. I'm just very tired, that's all."

Erik smiled wistfully.

"Oh well. Perhaps tomorrow, then?"

Christine was silent for a moment. So he had forgotten. She had suspected as much. And now the moment she had been dreading all evening had finally arrived.

"You promised to take me back tomorrow, Erik."

It was difficult to read Erik's expression, but a slight yellowish glow in his eyes suggested surprise.

"I don't recall promising any such thing, Christine," he said, in a tone of genuine sincerity. "You must be mistaken."

Christine swallowed nervously.

"You promised during our first meal together," she insisted. "You said I would have my freedom after I had stayed with you for five days, and the fifth day is almost over. Now you must let me go."

The yellow glow in Erik's eyes became an angry golden gleam.

"Remember where you are, Christine!" he growled. "You are in no position to tell me what I have to do! This is my house, you are my guest, and I decide when you can leave!"

Christine glared at Erik defiantly.

"I am not your private property, Erik!" she cried. "You have to let me go! I'm a singer, Erik, or have you forgotten that? I am now very much in the public eye, thanks to you! And people will be wondering where I've gone!"

Erik's mouth twisted into a snarl. "Oh, yes! I expect they are, my dear! I bet they're out of their minds with worry! Especially a certain Vicomte de Chagny…"

"Oh, Erik! This has nothing to do with him!"

"Nonsense!" Erik spat. "He's the reason you want to leave me, Christine! He's the reason you want to return to the Opera! Do you think I didn't notice him following you around like a lovesick puppy? Oh, yes! Erik knows all about that! Erik knows about everything that happens in his Opera House! Erik's no fool, do you hear me? Erik's no fool!"

Erik bared his teeth and snorted angrily.

"Erik, stop!" Christine cried, exasperated. "Yes, Raoul will be worried about me. But he's just an old friend! Why won't you believe me?"

Erik looked at Christine for a moment, clearly wondering if he could trust her. Finally his expression softened.

"Very well, Christine," he sighed. "I will take you back to the Opera House tomorrow. But only if you promise to return to me in three days."

"Three days," Christine whispered. Three days of freedom. Three days in which to make her escape. "I promise, Erik."

Erik smiled. Quite unexpectedly and very timidly, he reached out and ran two long, bony fingers gently through Christine's hair. Christine recoiled, startled by the touch.

Erik let his hand drop to his side and hung his head in shame. I do still repulse her, he thought, sadly. But she's too kind to admit it.

Deeply shaken, and suddenly overcome with longing for Raoul (who often stroked her hair in that same tender way), Christine turned away hastily and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Erik was left alone, crushed by her latest rejection.

"Goodnight, Christine," he said, his voice barely audible. "I'm sorry."

-)-)-

Christine paced back and forth in her bedchamber, expecting Erik to burst in at any moment and beg for forgiveness. Perhaps he would go down on his knees and kiss the hem of her dress again. Christine shuddered.

She waited for ten minutes, but Erik did not disturb her. Feeling strangely disappointed, she lay down on the bed and reflected upon her situation.

Ever since the fateful day of his unmasking, and her subsequent display of compassion, Erik had behaved like a devoted slave. He gave her singing lessons every day, cooked for her (although his skills in the kitchen left a lot to be desired), and showered her with endless attentions. He was hideously ugly and unpredictable, but he was also the neediest creature Christine had ever encountered. He wanted to spend every moment of every day in her company, singing to her, reading to her, playing the piano, showing her magic tricks. Christine found his company exhausting, but she humoured him, giving him the attention he so desperately craved.

She had burned his mask, telling him (somewhat untruthfully) that she was no longer distressed by his face and that he should not feel obliged to hide it from her. She dined with him three times a day (despite the awful food and his eating problems), and constantly reassured him that she appreciated his cooking, his singing, his ability to create an appropriate mood with candles, and his insistence on constantly wearing an evening suit while in her company: morning, noon and night.

Christine had only meant to show Erik a little compassion, to soothe his troubled heart and mind. Instead, to her extreme distress, Christine's kindness had simply caused Erik to fall even more deeply in love with her!

She could not face the prospect of another day in his company, another day enduring his jealous threats and tragic words of love.

Tomorrow, she would say goodbye to Erik forever.

-)-)-

Christine lovingly caressed Erik's face, tracing his protruding cheekbones with her fingertips.

"I love you, Erik."

Erik moaned softly, and pressed his cheek into Christine's palm.

"I love you too, Christine."

Christine smiled, and put her arms around Erik's neck. Erik leaned forward, and gently touched his deformed lips to hers.

She screamed, and pushed him to the floor.

"If you ever, ever try to kiss me again, you hideous creature, I'll cut your lips off!"

Erik looked up at Christine in hurt bewilderment.

She wasn't there.

Erik gasped. She wasn't there, but someone else was…

"What have you done with Christine?" Erik wailed, struggling to his feet. "Where is she?"

The woman laughed. "Christine has gone, you stupid creature! Did you honestly think she'd stay here, in this rat-infested hole, with a corpse as her only companion? No, Christine has gone, and she's never coming back!"

"I'm not a corpse!" Erik spat. "And Christine will come back, because she loves me!"

"You're deceiving yourself, Corpse!" the woman giggled. "Of course Christine doesn't love you! No one loves you! She has left you, left the ugly Beast and run away with her Prince Charming. Well, her Viscount Charming, to be precise!"

Erik backed away from the dark figure. It seemed to grow larger with every step he took.

"No! No! You're lying! Christine wouldn't do that! She wouldn't leave Erik! She loves him!"

"But my dear little monster, everyone hates you when they see your face. You know that…" the hideous voice continued. "Look, let me show you…"

A large hand grabbed Erik's shirt, and dragged him out of the room as if he were no heavier than a rag doll. Doors opened and closed and, suddenly, he was in the torture chamber.

"Look at yourself!" roared the terrible voice. "Look at yourself in the mirror and see why you must wear a mask! Look at yourself and see why no one can ever love you! Look!"

Erik looked. A million reflections of his rotting face stared back at him. Erik watched in horror as one of the hideous mouths opened and started to laugh. The laughter spread to the other faces, and soon all the death's heads were laughing at him, leering at him, burning him with their terrible yellow eyes…

Erik awoke with a scream.