Disclaimer: If I owned Phantom, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction, would I?

Chapter 24: Breaking Trust

Christine came home an hour before Erik expected her to return. She was supposed to be going out to dinner with several cast members. He had expected her to get home late at night, given that it took the better part of an hour to travel from London to their secluded estate. When she arrived home she went straight to Erik's study. Her cloak, still fastened around her shoulders, was soaked by the rain. Her skirt was visibly drenched, as were her boots. Raindrops rested delicately on her hair like precious diamonds.

"Erik – " He wasn't prepared for the indignant flames in her eyes. Christine's eyes were so incredibly expressive. In their depths, stormy as the night, he could pick out the emotions that blended into her irises, like picking out separate instruments when listening to music. Right now, they burned on disgust; on outrage; on betrayal; on disbelief.

If her emotion surprised him, the words she uttered next could have caused a heart attack. "It's Flavio – that's how Raoul knows so much."

In a single sweep of his arms that was so quick she could not see it, his hands were gripping her shoulders tightly. "Say it again. How do you know this?" The only times Erik had ever hurt her so was when she had removed his mask without his consent. The way he held her shoulders so roughly now was bordering on pain. A small, strangely detached part of Christine's mind idly wondered whether there would be hand-shaped bruises on her pale shoulders tomorrow. When she didn't answer, Erik shook her. "Tell me!"

She closed her eyes to escape from the desperate inferno of rage in his eyes. Taking a deep breath, she reopened her eyes, looked into his, and tremulously explained the events of the night. At the end, she concluded. "... and Raoul let slip that he knows so much about us – about you – because Flavio told him."

"That traitorous, lying, two-faced snake." Erik hissed. He pushed her away from him and backed away towards his desk. He took hold of the closest thing – which happened to be an exquisitely crafted ornament colored glass on his desk – and hurled it. It shattered against the wall, where it exploded and rained down in a shower of orange and yellow shards. He snarled in rage – a primitive, bestial sound. He shoved everything on his desk to the ground. His papers scattered into disarray. Several ink wells tipped over. Droplets of black ink sprayed the mahogany desk. In this frenzied rage, Erik was more like a wild animal than a man.

Christine retreated quickly out of his study and flattened herself to the wall next to the door. She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She was no longer the level-headed young woman she had grown into. It was as though she had been thrown back in time, turning back into the wide-eyed girl she was a year ago, scared senseless by Erik's rage. Her heart pounded madly in her chest. This side of Erik was frightening, to say the least. She was once again reminded that however tamed Erik seemed, there were parts of him that was feral, governed by animal instinct rather than human rules. Yes, she loved him for everything, especially for the freedom from societal boundaries that he gave her. But that didn't mean that she wasn't terribly afraid of what it entails.

She sunk to the ground. Trembling, she wrapped her arms around her legs and curled up, wishing that she could disappear. She shut her eyes as though it would stop the terrible scene from happening. Through the closed door, she could hear Erik's animalistic anger, manifested through sounds of breaking and shattering and tearing. He was destroying everything within his reach. Erik was not a man who had confidence in others. Only a very selected few had his trust, and even then, it was hard earned. Flavio was a man whom Erik genuinely believed in. The betrayal of that trust, in such an absolute way, further ruined what remained of Erik's faith in humankind.

The red haze of anger faded from Erik's eyes. The bloodlust waned, the red blur gradually disappearing, like the final rays of a dying sunset, like blood-stained hands turning clean under a fresh stream of water. He sank to his knees with a choked sob. The betrayal was physically painful. He had trusted Flavio; truly trusted him enough to let him into his life. As a confidante. As a friend. Erik had given that man access to his thoughts, knowledge of his secrets, insights to his mind. For a man as private as Erik, only a selected few were allowed within his carefully guarded fortress, to witness his genius and share in his innovations. That trust had been broken. Snapped. Severed. It was unforgivable.

It could not have been more than ten or fifteen minutes, but for all Christine was aware of, a lifetime had passed. Erik found her huddled outside his study, curled up like a frightened and wounded animal. Christine looked up, her grey eyes uncertain and scared. His heart clenched in guilt. He hadn't seen her look so desperate since the time she pulled off his mask and he had raged at her. He thought that he had become a better man, a man more deserving of this brilliant woman. It was evident that he had not. He had succumbed to his anger once again. After such a long period of control, he thought he had mastered his animalistic impulses. But he had just proven that he still had no control over the beast within him. He had been the cause of Christine's fear once again.

He crouched down to her level. Tentatively, he reached out as though to cup her cheek. He hesitated just before he made contact, worried that she would shrink back in horror at his touch. Christine, however, leaned her cheek into his palm. She closed her eyes and put her own petite palm over his calloused hand, clutching onto it dearly. He marveled at the way she was so completely unguarded with him. He had scared her, and only moments later she was seeking comfort in the feeling of his sinful hand against her pristine cheek.

"I'm sorry." Erik murmured. His voice was husky, hoarse from shouting. Christine opened her eyes and looked at him with immeasurable softness in her blue-grey eyes. Her arms twined around his neck and pulled herself towards him. Her slender body nestled against his angular one, filling in all the spaces between them. Erik's arm wound around her back of its own accord. He held almost numbly. His long-fingered, skeletal hand cupped the back of her dainty shoulder. The faint smell of roses lingered on her soft skin. He buried his face in the thick, lustrous mass of chestnut and mahogany waves. In that instant, with her petite body cradled in his arms as though she were still a child, she looked so young and innocent and vulnerable.

"Are you alright?" Christine murmured against his shoulder. His scent was comforting and familiar. She just wanted to comfort him, and herself, by holding him close. She wanted to protect him against all that the world would throw at him, by shielding him within her warm embrace.

"I'm sorry." He repeated in the same numb tone. It was all that he could bring himself to say. Her concern made him feel all the more wretched. He had scared her, turned into the monster of her nightmares once again. He should be on his knees, apologizing for his primitive behaviour. But instead, she was inquiring after his wellbeing out of genuine concern. It made him remember how utterly terrible and undeserving he was.

She looked up at him. "That in there," She motioned towards the study. "Was the Phantom, with all his legendary power and temper. This, right now," She cupped his face in her hands. He felt so soft, so real, beneath her palms. "This is my husband. This is Erik."

"How is it that you can love me?" He whispered brokenly. Despite the words, he drew her small body closer to his own, as though he feared she would regain her senses and step away from him.

She attempted a rueful smile. "I thought we were over this part of our relationship. Now answer me – are you alright?" Her brows were drawn up towards the crease of concern in the center of her forehead. Worry swirled in the cloudy skies of her eyes.

"I don't know who I can trust anymore." He admitted. He sounded like a terrified little boy, daunted by his loneliness in the face of the enormity of the world.

She fixed him with a vulnerable and sincere gaze. "You can trust me." She said softly, with infinite conviction in her gorgeous voice.

"I know," Erik whispered, shame filling his features. "I'm sorry for scaring you. I'm sorry for being so... so volatile at times. I'm sorry for being so much less than you deserve."

Christine quieted him with a finger on his lips. "I chose you, didn't I? That means that I love and accept all of you." She knew that although Erik had come to terms with her love, his insecurities ran much deeper. They were deeply embedded wounds that could never completely heal. All she could do was soothe away the pain and accept the scars as part of him.

"What do you think Flavio wants with Raoul?" She pondered quietly. Although the matter of Flavio's betrayal was painful, it was necessary to deal with it.

She felt Erik's shrug. "I don't know. I need to think... to find out what Flavio wants. Why he would need Raoul for his plans." Erik stood, helping Christine to her feet at the same time. "It is probable that Raoul would run back to Flavio and tell him how he blurted out their secret like the dim-witted fop that he is."

"I don't think Raoul is aware of what Flavio's planning to do, at least not in the grand scheme of things." Christine said, thinking aloud. "The only thing he seems concerned about is convincing me to return to France with him – he even used blackmail; like I would be intimidated by his amateur attempt!"

Erik couldn't resist a little smirk at her indignant spark. Christine could be a passionate creature when she chose so. Erik loved her all the more for her fire. "De Chagny underestimated you. He thought that you would comply with whatever he demanded." Pausing, he pushed her hair back from her face. In the same fluid movement he stroked his fingers from her temple down to her cheek and cupped her jaw in his palm. "I'm so proud of you." He whispered fervently. "Where is the little Christine I met so long ago, who cried because she was teased by the ballet rats?"

Though her face was tear stained, her smile, albeit tiny, was satisfied and triumphant. "When I walked out of the restaurant, Raoul didn't seem to be worried that I would tell you about what had happened. He seemed to be intent on beating you – on making me leave you. He wants to win me back." She grimaced as she said the words. Once again she was treated like a possession, a mindless thing to be won from one man to another.

"True." Erik agreed. "Flavio hasn't told him what his ultimate goal is. But he is allowing, even encouraging Raoul to win you back. Perhaps that is his reward for helping Flavio, but it seems unlikely that Flavio will give him his reward before he succeeds in his goal. Perhaps your absence is of importance in his plan." He absently twirled one of Christine's curls between his spindly fingers. "I think that I'm the one he wants to harm. You and the boy are just tools to him; he is manipulating you to make me suffer."

Something stirred in Christine's mind. He will let you leave whenever you want, even if it breaks his heart. Did Raoul unwittingly tell her Flavio's goal, even if he didn't know it himself? "What is it?" Erik pressed. After their years of acquaintance, friendship and now marriage, he could read Christine's emotions like a book. There was a thoughtful look upon her face, a slow light of realization in her eyes like the sunrise that lit up the grey, pre-dawn sky.

"Raoul said that it will 'break your heart' to let me go." She murmured. "What if –"

Erik interrupted her. "Flavio wants me to be hurt the way he was hurt." He beheld Christine with awe. "You are marvelous, my darling!" He exclaimed heatedly. "Flavio is incredibly bitter. He is jealous! He had turned his back on his family and the majority of his friends for Gianna's sake. When she left him, he lost everything he had. He held on to the hope that I would be his companion. That I would understand, that I would forever share his fate – a life without love. But when we met again here in London, I have found a woman who loves me despite my hideous appearance, despite the crimes I have committed, despite the blood I have spilt. My world has been completed. In his eyes, this is impossible. He had been comforted by the thought that he was not alone in this loveless existence, but I – or rather, we – proved him wrong. He's become resentful. He wants me to suffer for that – for abandoning him!"

Chills ran down Christine's spine. She froze to the spot. "Oh." She whispered numbly. This was because of her? Flavio harbored that sadistic desire to execute revenge on Erik, all because he found love? All because she loved him? "Oh." The world spun around her. The lights seemed to swirl. The images whirled, unfocused. Her head reeled and subconsciously, with a curious calmness, she realized: I'm about to pass out.

She had barely started falling when Erik lifted her into his arms in one swift movement. "Christine." His voice was distant. His face loomed in front of her. Worry was drawn over his gaunt features. "Christine!" The blood had drained from her face. Her lips were grey. Her eyes were cloudy and unfocused. In a blur of corridors and stairs, Erik brought her to their bedroom and set her on the bed.

Her vision cleared after a moment. The room stopped swimming about. Her eyes focused on Erik's agitated face. "I'm fine." She mumbled. She was still pale, though thankfully not grey anymore. Erik still hovered next to her, concern radiating from him. "I'm fine." She repeated, squeezing his hand weakly. In reply, Erik touched his fingers to her cheek and eventually cupped it, as though to convince himself that she was physically here, that she had not become some ghostly form. The gentleness with which he touched her, coupled with the look of utter anxiety in his eyes, made her feel like the most fragile and precious being in the world.

"It must be all the stress from tonight." Erik murmured. His eyes were like pools of brilliant molten gold, each so sharp and defined with individual flecks of lighter amber in them. "You should take a bath and then rest – I don't want to risk you falling ill."

"I feel fine." Christine insisted, taking his hand in hers. At Erik's disbelieving look, she sighed and said. "Alright, I will bath in a moment."

Erik nodded and moved to the door. He returned a few minutes later, a cup of warm tea in his hands. "I am running the bath." He said, passing the tea to Christine, who murmured her thanks. She took a tentative sip at the scorching liquid. Its sharp taste focused her senses, cleared her head a little.

"Well." She quipped. "I suppose we know why Raoul has been trying to take me back to France. Flavio wants you to loose me, the same way that he lost Gianna – to someone young and rich and handsome, leaving you with your life in shambles." That statement was too close to what had almost happened back in Paris last year. She looked at Erik, and could read in his eyes that the same thought was crossing his mind. "You know that I would never leave you, right?" She pressed anxiously.

Erik nodded. "Yes. I know." He smiled ruefully. "What would make someone as wonderful as you love someone as undeserving as me?"

Christine pressed a delicate kiss upon his lips. "Everything."

"Please enlighten me as to what goes on in that brain of yours." Flavio Morino snarled. The anger radiated off him in deadly fumes. "How could you tell her that you are allied with me? We only had the advantage as long as they did not know of our alliance!"

Raoul's head was down, his gaze fixed on the hands in his lap. He was the one who usually lashed out, mostly to his servants and subordinates. It was a new and rather unpleasant experience to be on the receiving end of anger. "Look, Morino, I'm sorry." He said flatly. "I told her in a rush of impulse. I don't know what came over me."

Flavio slammed the table. "I do! It was immature competitiveness! You simply want to best Erik, and you blurted out our secret like a thoughtless fool. This is more than a competition between you two. It is more than a matter of your pride. It is vengeance! And thanks to you, you idiotic boy, we have lost our greatest advantage. And there's more that you have cost us. Your job was to make Christine agree to our demands. Then, you were supposed to take her to her to her house. She would tell Erik that she doesn't love him any longer. And then you can leave with her! How hard is it to blackmail her into leaving Erik? You are utterly useless!"

"I apologized." Raoul snapped. "What more do you want me to do?" His hands clenched and unclenched under the table. He was getting close to losing his temper.

Flavio ignored him. He began pacing the length of his study. "Perhaps I had underestimated Christine." He said, his temper disappearing. All of a sudden he appeared studious and unimpassioned. "She is, after all, adept in manipulation. Blackmailing and threatening might not unnerve her. Perhaps..." His eyes lit up in a cold, devious light. "She needs a little persuasion."

As the two men began plotting, a pair of narrowed hazel eyes observed from the shadows.

A/N: At this point, everything has been revealed... but a new plot is being hatched by Flavio and Raoul. I can't believe that we're only five chapters away from the end!

This chapter's longer than usual, to compensate for the short chapter last time. And I hope you liked the fluff!

As usual, I will update the story next Tuesday.

Please review, you may get a preview of the next chapter :D