Moments of Transition: Decision

Rating PG

Summary There are many moments in the story of Erik and Christine where things could have turned out quite differently. This is one of them.

A/N This is a revision of a story I published two years ago on FF. I cleaned it up a bit, but did not change it as I did the others in the MOT series. Please R/R.

Moments of Transition: Decision

Slowly, hesitantly, he offered his gloved hand…my fingers had only to close that distance between us and I would be child to him no longer. And in the moonlight his gloved hand looked elusively normal…

Susan Kay's Phantom

The trees were covered in frost, delicate traceries of white that clung to the branches and trunks, turning the world into a fairyland. Snow crunched under my boots and my breath misted in the cool air. The day before Erik had finally pronounced my voice free from the effects of a winter cold and I was allowed to go on a short walk around the Bois de Boulogne. I breathed deeply of the crisp winter air and wanted to throw my arms wide and embrace the blissful freedom. Two weeks in Erik's house, confined to my bed and his faithful ministrations, had seemed a lifetime!

I turned to my dark cloaked companion, chatting brightly about trifles as we strolled around the artificial lake of the former emperor's gardens. We were like any couple there... almost. Others passed us by, arm in arm while we walked apart and always Erik turned his masked face from view as gentlemen and ladies wandered past.

Dusk deepened into twilight and most of the strollers hailed cabs and went away to warmer environs. But I wanted to stay as long as I could, enjoying the tingling the cold caused in my fingers and cheeks, delighting in watching the stars appear one at a time in the velvet sky. I stopped to look up at them and Erik stood silent next to me and I felt a vast contentment fill me, as thought here, in this moment, I wanted nothing more than to stand next to him and watch the wonder of the skies.

Too soon my legs grew stiff and I made to walk on. Suddenly my boot caught on a patch of ice and only Erik's quickness, a hand under my arm, saved me from falling.

"Thank you." I gasped out. His touch seared through the wool of my cloak, my dress sleeve, into the very marrow of my bones. I looked wide-eyed at him and he hastily withdrew his hand.

"Come, let us go back." He said stiffly.

I obediently followed him towards the edge of the park, feeling I must say something and not knowing what.

"This park is very beautiful." I said stupidly.

"Yes." He replied gravely. "But it's all false. The Emperor built an engineering marvel, a false paradise. Nothing here is real."

We had come to the carriage and I turned to him.

"Perhaps reality is not what I wished to see." I said defensively and could have bitten out my tongue an instant later as I saw hope lighten his eyes.

Stupid Christine! Would you mask him and clip his wings and ever call him 'Angel'?

"So," Erik said softly, "…you are not averse to some deception? You would find some illusions…acceptable?"

Slowly, ever so slowly, he raised his hand to help me into the carriage. Such a small thing to anyone else! But Erik had never offered his hand to me before, never invited physical contact of any kind, not since the day I had so cruelly unmasked him. Now, he offered his hand in the hope that I would…what? Overlook the mask? Pretend that he was whole?

I looked down at his gloved hand, so slender and graceful in the moonlight, deceptively normal. Yes, I wanted that. I wanted him to be normal. And perhaps I could accept the illusion…

Cruel cruel Christine!

My fingertips closed the distance between our hands and I felt his warm flesh under mine, thumb moving across the soft skin of my hand before the lifted me into the carriage. I sat down and he sat across from me, relinquishing his hold on my hand. My skin burned with the contact and I bowed my head so he could not see the flush mounting my cheeks.

I could feel his eyes on me and I felt a vague sense of unease and something more. I turned my head to the window so that he could not see my face as I pondered.

I was attracted to Erik, as a magnet to a loadstone. This I could not deny. I had felt it from the first moment; the first breath of his voice had thrilled through my body, tearing apart all preconceived notions of romance and sanctity.

Later, when I had seen his face, I felt pity for him. And feared him too, his rages and tempers, his passions, so different from my own. But for all that, he was also kind and gentle and sensitive. He deserved…

What, Christine? I breathed in deeply, not wanting to finish the thought, knowing that I must.

He deserved a lover who could look at his face without fear.

I had taken his hand, agreed to pretend that the horror under the mask did not exist when we both knew that it did.

It was unworthy of me. And in the end, would hurt his more when I found I could no longer pretend.

The carriage stopped outside of the Opera House and Erik once again took my hand, lead me to the side door and into his domain. Across the lake we glided, all the while my mind screaming at me. But what could I do? I had agreed to it. It would break his heart if I took away his happiness now. Could I not make the sacrifice, for his sake?

And hurt him later? I chided myself.

I sighed. No.

Erik led me into the house and I followed unresisting into the parlor, letting him take my cloak. I sat on the divan, stared into the fire. I felt, rather than heard, him sit in the chair to my left, could feel his amber eyes watching me as I sat silent.

"Christine…" His pleading voice broke into my thought. He reached across, took my hand and held it in his like it was some precious thing.

I looked up into his eyes, saw the hurt and anguish there.

Oh God, help me!

"I'm sorry Erik." I said quietly.

I let silence stretch between us for a moment, summoning my courage. I withdrew my hand from his grasp.

"I was wrong. Illusion is not what I want." I raised my gaze to his, searched his expressive eyes. "I will have truth between us."

He drew in a sharp breath.

"Christine, are you…quite certain?"

I felt my heart constrict at the tremulous words.

"Yes." I whispered, unable to say more. I held my arms out and he flew to them, kneeling in front of me, burying his face into my skirts as I plucked at the black ribbon of his mask.

"Erik." I lifted his chin and let the mask flutter to the ground beside us. I looked into his face, willing myself to gaze unflinching into his deformed visage. I stared at him for an eternity as he knelt, trembling, at my feet, forcing my mind to take in the horror of his face and to see past it, into his very soul.

Finally I drew in a breath, releasing him from my scrutiny.

He sank slowly into my arms and I held him, whispering nonsensical words as my hands roamed over his back. I felt his body relaxing, giving in to the desire that he kept so rigidly controlled. Then his hands were moving over me. He raised his head, his hands, did wonders with his lips and fingertips, making my body heavy with sensation. And only later, as he filled me to bursting did I think to whisper fiercely,

"I love you."