"We all wear masks, Christine. Mine just happens to be physical."
His words still haunted her, as did the face her curiosity had revealed. Why hadn't she listened to him? Why had she looked behind the mask?
In that one moment had grown up. Her childish dreams about angels were shattered as she'd looked into the face of a monster. The Phantom.
Her belief in angels had led her to be seduced into a world of music by a voice behind her mirror. It wasn't a bad thing at first. The Angel of Music had taught her to sing and command the stage.
Those were happy memories. But even when she'd realized her teacher was a physical being she wanted to learn, to continue the friendship they had forged. She ignored the rumors going around the opera house and overlooked accidents that put her in the limelight.
She should have known when the lead diva had been chased out.
She had broken the illusion her teacher had cast; ripped his guise away and left his flaws exposed. Her intentions had been pure; she'd wanted to know his identity. Why did such a talented man hide behind the façade of a angel?
She had gotten her answer: he looked like a corpse, his deformity was hideous.
Surely such a thing was the mark of the devil. Only a man with a black soul could have such a face. At least, that's what her fiancée had told her. And Christine knew the Phantom had blood on his hands.
Erik – his name was Erik. Had told her he'd been born looking like a monster. He only wanted to be accepted, and treated like any other descent person. But no one would give him a chance. Once they saw his face they judged him by what was on the outside. How could his inner goodness be shown when he'd been caged and put on display?
He had to adapt or be killed; so he'd become what everyone believed him to be, and it was easier. He tried not to hurt innocents and even lived as far away from people as possible. But there was nowhere he could be truly alone.
He tried to be happy, surrounding himself with music from the Opera House, and that was when he'd met her. Erik claimed Christine was his salvation, the light in his darkened life. And she had betrayed his trust because she hadn't been ready to see the truth.
But now she was different. She had changed so much during the past few months she hardly recalled the naïve girl who had walked, entranced, through a mirror into the catacombs of the Opera House.
Erik was backed into a corner. He was faltering and falling back into his old ways. His face was bared, but he was still wearing the Phantom's mask. He'd wanted a wedding, true marriage with a willing bride, but there was a catch.
If Christine didn't marry him he'd kill her fiancée. Raoul had come to her rescue, trying to save her from a kidnapper, and had ended up with his hands bound and his neck in hangman's noose. But Christine remained calm, poised, and not begging like a child for the life of her would-be-rescuer.
"Let him go," she said gently. "This isn't you, Erik. I'll not make my choice like this. We don't need this pretense between us. I know you don't want to be seen as a monster, so lay the theatrics aside. You want me to be a bride to you, than treat me with the respect I deserve. Don't force me to choose you because you'll kill Raoul otherwise. Let me choose you because I want you more than him."
"Christine no!" Raoul twisted in his bonds. "Don't give yourself to this monster. He'll ruin you! Please Christine… I'd rather be dead then live knowing he forced himself on you."
"If it's my choice he won't be forcing anything, Raoul," Christine said. "I know him; I know there's good in him."
"And you think you can save him?" Raoul gave a mad laugh. "He's not worth saving."
"Every man who repents is worth saving," Christine told him. "If you kill Erik there will be a dark mark on your soul. I know that's not you, but you'll be damned until you repent. But will you mean it? Will you blacken the soul of the sweet boy I met in Perros? What has become of the smiling youth who ran into the sea to rescue my scarf? Erik, let him go so he can live his life."
"It sounds like you've already made your choice," Raoul said bitterly.
Christine ducked her head. "Maybe I have. He needs me, Raoul. He needs someone who can see past something that isn't his fault, how he was born wasn't his fault. You don't need me. It would never have worked between us, it was a childish dream. Your family would never approve of me unless I gave up the opera, and the music is a part of who I am. You may accept that, but they won't."
"You can't mean this," Raoul told her. "Christine… do you have feelings for him, for the Phantom?"
"I have feelings for Erik," she replied, "and I forgive him. He has to forgive himself."
"I won't let you go," Raoul said. "I won't let you do this to yourself. You love me, Christine, I know you do."
"I do," she replied. "And I won't have your blood on my hands or Erik's. Let him go."
Erik had stayed silent throughout the exchange, hardly believing what he was hearing. His angry had melted away to confusion. He hadn't expected Christine to say those things. He'd expected her to beg, and plead for the boy's life.
But could she truly have feelings for him? Was she implying that she wanted to be with him despite everything he'd done? He didn't deserve someone like her.
Moving quickly, lest she change her mind, he untied Raoul and removed the Punjab lasso from his neck. Christine put herself between the two men, hoping to stop any rash ideas Raoul might be harboring.
"Erik, take him to safety, please," Christine said. "Raoul… I do love you, but please, don't my actions be in vain. Don't try to harm him; that will not win back my affection."
"Come with us, Christine," Raoul said.
"Why?" she asked. "So you can try to change my mind? So that you can think of a way for us to flee? I'll wait here for Erik."
Turning to the other man, she stepped closer. Winding her arms around his neck, she kissed his sunken cheek. "Be the bigger man, Erik."
Erik's fingers hesitantly rose to touch his own face. "Christine… you kissed me." Unbidden tears glistened in his mismatched eyes. "No one has ever kissed me, not even my own mother."
She brushed away a tear of her own. "The affection is freely given, Erik."
"I'll return soon, I promise," he said. "Come Vicomte. You saw Christine's actions were her own, and not provoked."
Raoul sulked, but nodded. "Goodbye, Christine. I would have given you everything."
"I am sorry that I hurt you," she told him. "I never meant to lead you on. I thought I knew what I wanted, but I was wrong."
Erik retrieved his mask from a table and fixed it into place. Grabbing a lantern, he gestured for Raoul to follow him out of the underground house. With one last look of regret, Raoul left.
Christine breathed a sigh of relief once they had gone. She hoped they would remain amiable for the journey to the surface, and that it was Erik who came back. She went into the bedroom Erik had decorated for her and stared at the wedding dress laid out on the bed. It wouldn't be easy with all the prejudices in the world, but she would strive to make this marriage work. She put on the veil and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. She'd put on the dress too, eventually.
But the one thing she needn't take off was a mask, because she hadn't donned it to begin with. She hadn't been acting and her words and actions hadn't been forced. She smiled at her reflection, finally seeing her true self for the first time.