Hi everybody, welcome to a new year of hopefully many beautiful E&C-fics!

Thank you vey much for making time over the holidays to read my stories, and a special thank you to those that have put the story on alert, added it to favorites, or - most importantly - reviewed it. You know who you are, my most loyal readers! But... did I detect a lack of trust in me in some of you? I saw one or two reviews complaining about splitting E&C up again. Did I not promise you they would be together in this one? So... why did you doubt me, my dear readers? You should have faith in your authoress! ;-)

Anyway, I still don't own anything or anybody, Santa disappointed me greatly in that regard, bt one can always hope for next year, right? ;-)

Chapter 14 – Good-bye (?)

Christine slowly walked up to the attic, in order to say her good-byes to her Angel. She was nervous and depressed at the same time. He was going to leave tonight, to go to Brussels. True, Mme. Giry had promised her that they would follow him there in a few months' time, once Raoul would finally have accepted her decision not to marry him. Then they could use the excuse that they wanted to start anew elsewhere, then they could go away to rejoin Erik without arousing Raoul's suspicions. But the thought of being separated from her Angel for months, especially now, that their relationship had suffered so much and was in dire need of repair, now that she had finally realized how much he meant to her, was very disturbing. As much as Christine knew that Mme. Giry was right and it was best to let Erik leave on his own now and follow him later, the thought of being away from him, of not being able to see him at least on occasion, to talk to him, caused her almost physical pain.

"It is as if my heart were being squeezed by a giant's hand," Christine thought. "He has not left yet, and I am already missing him. Oh, I missed him so much during those weeks I spent with Raoul's aunt, and I was not even aware of the true nature of my feelings for him then. Not being loved by him anymore after all I did to him, I could somehow bear, hard as it might be. It would be my punishment for my betrayals. But not seeing him, not hearing his voice again, that would be hell." And she trembled at the realization how dangerous it might be for Erik to leave Paris, how difficult it would be for him to cross the border unnoticed and to start a new life in a foreign town. Where would he stay? Would anybody even dare allowing him to rent an apartment? How would he go about starting a business?

"He should not have to go alone," Christine thought by herself. "He needs somebody to deal with society for him, somebody who goes shopping, somebody who talks to the publisher, to whom he will sell his music, or who will deliver his drawings to an architect's office. Somebody who rents an apartment for him and deals with the landlord. Of course it is possible to hide his mask under a hood or wide-brimmed hat. That way, it won't be noticed in dim light. But in most offices or grocery shops there is light. Even though he is not a wanted criminal in Belgium, things would be awkward for him, for most people will be wary of him because of his mask."

She sighed once again, remembering that Mme. Giry would not allow her to go with Erik. "It would be perfect," Christine thought. "I could do all those things for him, he would not have to show his face to anybody, and at the same time I could prove to him that I do care and am supporting him, even though I might risk my reputation in doing so." And she thought by herself that she did not particularly care about her reputation. She would never marry anybody other than her Angel, and he of all people would know that her conduct was beyond reproach. Therefore it did not really matter to her what the rest of the world thought of her.

Christine hesitantly knocked at the guestroom door and was let in immediately. She smiled at the expression on Erik's face, who looked at her in wonder. She noticed, though, that he was wearing his mask now. "He still thinks I am repulsed by his face," she thought sadly. "It will take a while till I can convince him that he does not have to wear that uncomfortable contraption for me."

"Christine," Erik murmured humbly. "Thank you so much for coming to see me. I know I do not deserve your kindness after all that I did..."

"Oh Angel," Christine sighed happily at the soft tone of his voice, that now did not hold any of the anger he had directed at her before. "You are not mad at me anymore! Does that mean, we can be friends again?"

Erik nodded. "If you find it in you to forgive me for all my misdeeds," he begged.

Christine looked away. "I have already forgiven you," she mumbled. "But how can you ever forgive my betrayal of you? How can you forgive that I tried to deliver you into the hands of the gendarmes by acting as bait for you and how can you ever forgive the fact that I humiliated you in front of hundreds of audience members by revealing your face to them, by exposing you in the worst possible way?" And she shuddered at the thought that Erik would probably not have felt as awkward and embarrassed if he had been stark naked in front of the whole audience, as he must have felt without his mask.

"Since neither of us is without blame, we will just have to forgive each other," Erik replied softly. "I still think I am the worst offender here, though. I should have understood that one cannot force a heart to love somebody. It was not your fault..."

"No, Angel," Christine interrupted him. "It was my fault as well. I should have understood. I had known you for so many years, you had always been kind to me, there never was any violence at the Opéra in all those years. I should have known that if indeed you did kill Buquet, then there must have been a very good reason for doing so. I should have known that you are no cold-blooded murderer. Instead I just panicked, freaked out and turned away from you, to the man who ended up trying to capture and kill you."

Erik nodded. "Antoinette said something similar," he told her. "She said that you probably were not thinking clearly that night, after all that happened during that performance of "Il Muto", with me interrupting the performance, making Carlotta croak, then you having to take over the lead, that it was no wonder you lost it once Buquet..." Erik sighed. "I swear to you that was not planned," he whispered. "Even though Buquet was a disgusting individual, constantly drunk and leering at the skimpily dressed dancers, I would not have killed him for that. But he had been spying on me for quite a while, trying to stalk me, to find my home. Antoinette had given him a few warnings at my request, but he did not want to listen. He continued to lurk in the dark, trying to catch a glimpse of me and then follow me in order to find my hiding place." He sighed again. "I should have realized that I was giving away my whereabouts to him, when I taunted Carlotta from high above the stage and admonished the managers for giving away my box. Of course that sleazy drunkard had nothing better to do than climb up into the rafters as well, thus provoking a confrontation up there."

Christine gasped in horror, as she realized the danger her beloved had been in. "You could..," she whispered. "You could have fallen down yourself. One cannot outrun an opponent up there, it is too dangerous. You would probably have slipped..."

"Yes," Erik admitted. "It was his life or mine. Waiting for him and fighting him was my only option. At least that way I could prepare myself for his onslaught." He shuddered at the memory of snapping Buquet's neck with his punjab lasso. "I had not expected to ever have need of my lasso again," he mumbled. "Not after I managed to get out of Persia in one piece. I even had promised a friend not to kill again... "

"It was self-defense," Christine tried to comfort him. Oh, how she wanted to hug him tight, to show him that she understood why he had done it and was not disgusted by this act of desperation he had just confessed to her. But she remembered Mme. Giry's words of taking things slowly. No, it was too soon. They were only now beginning to mend their relationship, her hopes for love with Erik had to wait.

"I know," Erik mumbled dejectedly. "Still, I feel like I should not have done it. And then all the other horrors..." He closed his eyes and turned his back to Christine. "Piangi, the chandelier, the hundreds I endangered, many of whom I might have injured..."

"My fault." Christine hung her head in shame. "After all those years we had been friends, after all you taught me, I should have known you better. I should have understood how lonely you were and how much losing my friendship affected you. I should have realized that by deliberately avoiding you, by turning towards Raoul, I was slowly driving you into insanity, into total isolation. I should never have judged you for Buquet without hearing your side of the story, but I did. Thus I am responsible for everything you did while in the throes of that madness. I of all people should have stood by your side and believed in you. I failed you in the worst possible way."

"Don't," Erik faced her again, as he heard her sobs. "Don't you ever blame yourself for my crimes," he whispered, fighting the urge to raise his hand to her cheek and wipe away her tears. He did not trust himself and his body's possible reaction to touching her.

"Our crimes," Christine corrected him. "Nothing of all that would have happened, if I had trusted you."

Erik sighed. He was not so sure. Even if she had trusted him, sooner or later she would have fallen for a handsome young man, either the Vicomte or another one of similar good looks and the right age for her. Sooner or later he would have lost her anyway, and that pain would have driven him crazy, no matter who the preferred rival would have been.

"Antoinette said you are not planning on marrying the Vicomte anymore," he suddenly remembered. "Is it because of his family? I hear they are not too accepting of you."

Christine looked away. She feared that she would give herself away if she faced him while telling him the real reason of her broken engagement. "I cannot marry him," she began to explain. "Yes, it is his family, and it is also the fact that I could not sing anymore as a Vicomtesse, but,..." Her voice trailed and Christine had to summon all her courage, before she added softly, "I do not love him the way a woman should love her husband. I do care for him a lot, but I realized that my feelings for him are more those one would have for a brother..."

Erik inhaled sharply. Christine had just confessed that she did not love the Vicomte enough to marry him. Did that mean... could that possibly mean that her heart was still free, that if he did it right, he might still stand a chance of winning her love?

"Is there somebody else you would rather marry?" he asked hoarsely. "Is that why you broke off your engagement?"

Christine hesitated. She did not think it was wise to confess to Erik her love right away. They were only just beginning to rekindle their friendship. He probably would not believe her anyway, if she told him now. Trust takes a while to be rebuilt.

Erik observed her from the corner of his eye. Christine suddenly blushed deeply and looked away, nervously fingering her skirts. "There is somebody else," he stated.

Christine quickly shook her head. "No," she protested. "There is nobody else..." And she did not even feel like lying, since there was nobody other than her Angel in her heart.

Erik sighed. "It is none of my business anyway," he mumbled. "You are free to love who you want."

Christine looked down. He sounded so sad. Did he not believe her? Did it cause him pain to imagine her in love with another suitor? If so... Her heart almost missed a beat. If she was right, then he had not stopped loving her. Then there was hope that she could convince him of her love. But... in that case she wanted even less to be separated from him for months. If there still was a chance for them, then they needed to be together. A plan was forming in her head.

"Mme. Giry says you will be leaving tonight," she changed the topic. "And that you will be going to Brussels. Is that correct?"

Erik nodded. "Yes, that is correct. We both think that I will be safer there than here, with the Vicomte coming and going, and maybe holding a grudge because you do not want to marry him after all the problems you have caused him."

Christine sighed guiltily. "I am truly sorry for what I did to Raoul," she admitted, "but now that I know that I do not love him enough to become his wife, it is the honorable thing to do to free him of this engagement that would ultimately make us both unhappy. But," she reminded Erik, "I did not come to discuss Raoul with you, but your departure and our friendship. I understand why you have to go, but I also think that you would need somebody at your side. To interact with others on your behalf," she elaborated. "People in Belgium will probably be as wary of your mask as the French. At least at first, when they do not know you well yet..." Christine bit her lip. She hoped she had not insulted Erik by implying that he needed help to get settled down in a foreign town.

"I admit it won't be easy," Erik replied, "but there is no other way. Antoinette has to stay here for a while longer, and you and Meg have to stay with her."

Christine shook her head. "Not at all," she objected. "Mme. Giry may stay for a while with Meg. But I could leave at any time. I could say I want to get away from all the gossip about my situation with Raoul, that I need a change of scenery because my nerves have suffered in recent weeks or something like that. It would be believable." She shyly looked at Erik. Would he understand that she offered to go with him? If so, would he want her to come along?

Erik stared at Christine. He was not sure he had understood her correctly. "Are you..." He nervously cleared his throat. "I mean, you could not possibly suggest that you would come with me if I asked you to?"

Christine blushed. "You helped me so much when my father died," she tried to explain her motives. "And I treated you so badly. I want to make it up to you and to be there for you, now that you need help."

Erik shook his head. "I cannot ask that of you," he said resolutely. "My journey will be a dangerous one, I cannot take you with me, even if Antoinette allowed it, and I do have a feeling, she wouldn't want you to come with me." He closed is eyes thinking that he was not sure he could trust himself to always act like a gentleman towards her if they were running off together.

Christine nodded. "I understand that," she admitted. "And you are right, Mme. Giry would object. But," she continued, "I do not know anybody else, who you could rely on in a foreign town. Of course, if you do not want me with you, you only have to say so," she added miserably.

"This is not a question of me wanting you with me or not," Erik retorted. "And it is even true that it would be helpful to have another person around that would interact with others on my behalf. But it is simply impossible for you to come with me tonight. It would be too dangerous. I will never put you at risk again, that much I swear to you. And..." he added. "Your reputation..."

Christine laughed. "There is not much left of my reputation anyway, now that I have broken up with Raoul," she reminded Erik. "And I do not have to go with you. I could follow you in a few days. By train. Since Mme. Giry will not allow it, I will leave when she is out, either shopping or at another meeting at the Opéra. I will leave a note that I am returning to Sweden, to rest and put all those past experiences behind me. She can show this note to Raoul, if she wants. If he is anxious to follow me, then let him go to Sweden and look for me there. In order to mislead him, I will buy a train ticket to Copenhagen, from where there is a ferry boat to Stockholm. I will have to pass through Belgium on my way. And I will quietly leave the train in Brussels and join you there."

Erik stared at her. "You would do that for me?" he asked speechlessly.

Christine smiled. "I owe it to you, to help you. Please say, that we can meet in Brussels in a few days?"

Erik shook his head. "It would not be appropriate," he uttered. "We could not live together there..."

"And why not?" Christine asked. "Who in Brussels would know that we are not related? We could pretend to be cousins. I could not use my true name anyway if I applied for a singing job at the Opéra there, or Raoul would soon find out where I really have gone. I could be your cousin Antoinette," she suggested, blushing at the thought of using her foster mother's first name. "And I would use your last name," she added shyly.

Erik thought about it for a while. "I should not allow it," he then told Christine, "but I have a feeling as if you would follow me anyway, out of a strange sense of obligation towards me, so I guess, ..."

"Meg will help me," Christine assured him. "And she will tell her mother where I really am. I won't lie to Mme. Giry. When do you think you will arrive in Brussels at the earliest? I would like to time my arrival there so that you are already there and can meet me at the train station, Monsieur...?" She looked at him. "You never told me your last name, cousin," she teased him. "Since I will have to use it too, once we are in Brussels, I need to know it."

"Chenet," Erik answered. "My last name is Chenet. And I think I will be able to reach Brussels a week from today. Can you time it to arrive by train either the next day or two days after that? I will wait for a train arriving from Paris."

Christine nodded. "Thank you, Erik Chenet," she whispered. "I will see you in Brussels next week!"