A/N: I have no idea where this came from. It was a little idea that would not leave me alone, so I decided to write it. Let me know what you think!

The angel is jealous! Mama Valerius had warned me. When Raoul first returned to me, the angel was displeased. He said he would take his voice away from my ears and back up to heaven if I entertained thoughts of another. And though I try to hide them now, I know that he knows. His eyes, glowing like dying embers, are able to pierce through my hazy thoughts to the secrets which I try to conceal. And though he will no longer open those frightening eyes to me, I know he still sees. But I rarely think on Raoul anymore. He lives above us in freedom; my freedom, which I sacrificed for him. But I know how he resisted. Even as he was being dragged upwards, out the world which I longed for, I could hear his pleas. His cries tore at my heart as he begged to see me one final time. I covered my ears, trying to block out the echoes of his voice. Christine! Christine, my love! I beg of you, don't do this! He would have given his life, but I gave mine instead. And now he is gone. He flies with the delicate wings that once were mine, wings that were ripped from my body when I gave my hand to the angel. Now I am bound to this existence, a broken song bird with her fallen angel. But the angel is jealous.

I love you! I chose you! I plead, but he will not sing, will not speak. Forgive me! But he will not look on me, will not touch me.

There was a time when my angel was pleased with me. When my lips met with his forehead, the tears which ran down my cheeks joining with his, like a stream that joins a river and grows in strength. His body was wracked with sobs as I pledged my life to him with those tears. And for a time, those tears were all he needed to believe that I was truly his. And though I tried to be a loyal wife, I could not prevent my thoughts from wandering. In my dreams I lived in another world. My husband, not a tortured genius, but a calm and gentle man. No longer the wife of a selfish angel, but of a man who would give everything for my happiness. The first time I awoke from the dream, I looked on my true husband with utter disappointment. I could not conceal it, even if I had desired to do so. Three days passed without a word from him after that morning. I cannot recall now the last time he spoke to me, so much time has passed. I do not understand why the angel is so jealous.

I walk lightly past the room where my angel sleeps, years of strict training in ballet guiding my graceful steps. I sit at the table alone, as always. The angel will not deign to eat with me. I hum quietly as I cut my food, a perfunctory habit to break the awful silence. And somehow, it makes me feel less alone. I was never truly aware how much I depended upon others to be happy. Now, forced into isolation, I am beginning to feel as though I understand the pain my husband has endured all these years. Perhaps that has been his intention all along. Perhaps he thinks that if I can share in his pain, if I need him as he has needed me, then I can truly be his living bride. I shake my head playfully, the tiniest hint of a smirk on my face. No, the angel is simply jealous.

I call to him through the door now, my hand lightly pressing against the smooth wood. I beg him to play his music for me. What I would give for just one note of that ethereal sound which once floated through my head. But the angel is jealous.

I hear the door gently click as I close it behind me. I slide my body into the bed beside my angel, my husband. He does not move as I draw closer. I lay my head on his chest, place his arm around me. His cold flesh is like ice against mine. Oh, how jealous the angel must be! He will not even allow me the warmth of his breath or the gentle rise and fall of his chest! As I close my eyes in sleep, I murmur softly, promise my angel that there is no cause for jealousy. And I wonder if perhaps tomorrow he will speak to me again.