"And I am hoping that this courtship will lead to a respectable and happy marriage," Raoul concluded, the hope evident in his eyes.

"Marriage?" Christine squeaked. She cringed at her voice echoing throughout the theatre. Lowering her voice she repeated, "Marriage?"

"Not immediately, of course," Raoul rushed to reassure her. He knew, without a doubt, that he wanted to marry Christine and would arrange a ceremony for tomorrow if that was what she wanted. But he also knew that Christine's feelings for him weren't as strong as his feelings for her. But a proper courtship would allow those feelings to develop so he was willing to wait. All he asked was that his bride loved him as much as he loved her on their wedding day.

"Raoul...you can't be serious," Christine said faintly. Of course she had known that he wanted more than friendship, most likely an official courtship, but to be talking of marriage already? Was he so certain that they were compatible for a lifetime together?

"I am perfectly serious," he replied, rubbing his thumb across the hand he was holding. 'I lo..., care for you very much and I hope that one day that this will lead to marriage."

"But you're a Vicomte, your family, society, there are certain things that you are expected to do." Christine hoped that if Raoul realised that this wasn't a wise decision for him to be making then she wouldn't need to tell him no. She knew that this approach was cowardly, but she didn't want to have to break his heart. She hadn't missed his almost confession of love and didn't want to tell him that she was never going to be able to feel the same way.

"As a Vicomte I am expected to marry and produce an heir," Raoul said stiffly. "I've been told that for as long as I can remember. But I want that to be with you," he continued tenderly. "Now that you are in my life again, I want those things, marriage and a family, with you."

"Your parents didn't approve of us playing together as children. It was only through your brother's intervention that we were allowed to spend time together. And now, not only am I not from a suitable family, I perform in an opera house. Your parents will never approve of a marriage between us," she explained.

"Christine I know what you're trying to do," he smiled.

"You do?" She had hoped that her intentions weren't that obvious.

"Yes. And I don't want you to think for one moment that you aren't good enough for me. You are a wonderful woman, and your father was a good man. It doesn't matter that he wasn't rich or that he didn't have a title. Those sorts of things don't matter to me. My mother has introduced me to dozens of young women that society would consider a suitable match for me and none of them compare to you," Raoul said passionately.

"Your parents aren't going to see it that way." Christine reached up to stroke his cheek. "Dear Raoul. You are a wonderful man, and one day you will meet a woman and you will fall in love and your parents will approve. But that woman isn't me."

"I'm not going to let my parents stop me from marrying the woman I love. Philippe has had numerous companions over the years, never even spoken of marrying one of them and our parents have allowed him to do so. If they want there to be any chance of the family name being legitimately continued they will allow me to marry the woman I choose," he exclaimed, now holding her hand between both of his.

Seeing the trapped expression on Christine's face he sighed, "But I'm getting ahead of myself again. There will be no more talk of marriage tonight."

He didn't see the relief in the small smile that Christine gave him.

"Will you allow me to court you Christine?" he asked, stepping even closer to her, so their hands were trapped between their chests.

At Christine's hesitation, Raoul's face dropped. "You are free to accept my offer, aren't you Christine? I know you aren't married and you've never mentioned any gentlemen to whom you are close. I've never even heard a rumour in the theatre about anyone visiting you after performances."

There was someone else and that was the problem, Christine thought. If Erik wasn't in her life it was likely that she would have happily accepted Raoul's offer. But Erik was in her life and she knew that she could never feel for Raoul what she felt for Erik, even if those feelings weren't returned. However she couldn't explain this to Raoul without raising too many questions about her life before Paris, and more importantly, questions about Erik. She knew that, like Vadoma, Raoul wouldn't understand Erik and would seek to protect her from him, never understanding that Erik was the last person on Earth she needed to be protected from. Realising that Raoul had finished talking and was waiting for her response, she shook her head, not willing to voice her lie out loud.

"It's me then. You're free to be courted but you don't want it to be me," he concluded, bitterness tinging his voice. "I don't understand, we were such good friends and I thought you enjoyed spending time with me, you always seem happy when we are together." Christine wished there was some way she could erase the confusion and hurt from his face.

"Raoul you are a wonderful friend and I do enjoy spending time with you..."

"Then what's wrong?" he interrupted. "Why can't this happen?"

"I'm sorry Raoul, I can't," she said, pulling her hands from his grasp and dashing towards the downstage stairs, desperate to escape from him before the tears started to spill down her face.

She ignored Raoul's calls for her to stop as she hurried out the front doors of the theatre. As she stepped out into the night air she realised that she had no way to pay for a ride home and that she would have to walk. She couldn't go back to Raoul and ask him to take her home, so there was no other option.

She hastily wiped the tears from her face and started walking away from the theatre. She had done the right thing, she told her herself firmly. It wouldn't have been right to allow Raoul to court her, knowing that she was never going to be able to love him the way that he loved her. Despite his protestations that his parents would accept the marriage, Christine knew that the rift would begin as soon as Raoul announced their courtship, and she didn't want to be the cause of that. And she couldn't do it to herself, not when she was in love with another. She only wished that she had been able to better explain herself to Raoul, but she couldn't risk exposing Erik.

Erik. She didn't know what she was going to do about him. Tonight had shown her that she wasn't going to be able to leave him for another man. She didn't even think that she would be able to bring herself to move into the dormitories at the theatre. Knowing how he felt about her, she almost wished that she had been able to accept Raoul's offer just to ease his burden, but her heart just wouldn't allow it. She needed him in her life, in whatever capacity he would have her. It was selfish but she couldn't let him go. Christine decided that she would let Erik set the boundaries. She would let him have as much or as little of her as he wanted. She would stop questioning him constantly and would stop boring him with the details of her life. She was sure that he would still want to tutor her in music, but again she would let him decide how much he wanted to do, there were always teachers at the opera house that she could use. As long as she was able to sleep at night knowing that he was nearby.

Arriving at the door to the apartment, Christine slowly tested the handle, silently praying that Erik hadn't locked the door and she would be able to creep in without needing to wake him.

"How did you get home?" he asked the moment she had closed the door behind her.

"I'm sorry," she apologised. "I didn't think you would still be awake."

"How did you get home?" he repeated. He presented an incredibly intimating figure, standing in the middle of the room, hands clasped behind his back and the mask covering one half of an expressionless face.

"I, um..." Christine knew how much he hated her walking alone at night.

"Your options must have been somewhat limited, seeing as you didn't have this." He pulled her reticule out from behind his back. He allowed it to swing for a few moments before placing it on the table.

"I'm sorry," she apologised again. "I know that you don't like me walking home alone at night, but as you can see I didn't have any other option. I promise I'll be more organised in the future."

"You really ought to be more careful. A young woman such as yourself, walking the streets at night. There are all sorts of monsters roaming once the sun goes down," he continued. Christine felt that he could have listed the items in their pantry and there would have been more emotion in his voice.

"I didn't mean for you to worry," she said meekly.

"I wasn't worried," he said coolly. Christine felt the words like someone had taken a hammer to her heart and beaten it into smithereens. "But you do have your reputation to consider. After all, not all monsters look like this." He waved his hand in the general vicinity of his face and Christine realised that it was one of the few occasions he had ever referred to his looks. "Some of them are even well regarded by society. Think of some of the men who used to visit the camp."

"Erik, I don't understand..." He had made it perfectly clear that he didn't care for her, why was he continuing to push the issue?

Seeming to drop the topic, he resumed his questioning of how she had travelled home. "Was there no-one at the theatre who could escort you home? Perhaps that patron, the Vicomte?"

"That patron, the Vicomte?" Christine repeated. Erik knew Raoul's name, why would he refer to him in such a detached manner?

"You're right, that wouldn't have been wise at all. Imagine what people would start saying about you if you were seen leaving the theatre at night with the Vicomte, unescorted." The sneer was evident in his voice.

"I walked home, on my own," Christine snapped. "I wasn't accosted in the street, nor has my reputation suffered at all for it. Are you happy with that?"

"I'm not so sure," he drawled. "I heard a carriage in the street minutes before you entered the apartment. Are you sure you didn't take a ride with your childhood friend?"

"Yes," she said firmly, holding her chin up.

"Are you saying that I'm lying? That I didn't hear a carriage?" he questioned.

Christine paused for a moment to remember the last few minutes before she had entered the apartment. It had been silent in the streets, not a soul to be seen and certainly no carriages. Even with his spectacular hearing, there was no way that Erik could have heard a carriage from up in the apartment without Christine having heard it as well. "Yes," she challenged. "There was no carriage, nor was I in one at any time."

Erik just looked at Christine, a faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes. She held his gaze for a moment, before letting her shoulders sag in defeat. "What's..." she was about to ask him what was wrong when she remembered her earlier decision about Erik. "I'm going to bed," she sighed, walking past him to get to the back room where she slept.

"How is the Vicomte?" Erik asked abruptly, causing Christine to stop in her tracks and turn to face him.

"He is fine," she answered warily.

"Is he enjoying his role as patron of the theatre?" Christine could tell that Erik's questions were leading to something bigger, that they weren't as innocuous as they appeared.

"He is." She deliberately kept her answer short.

"Being patron of such a large theatre must involve a lot of work that requires his presence at the theatre. You have often mentioned that he has had business at the theatre when you've been at rehearsals," he pointed out.

"I suppose so."

"For a young man like the Vicomte there would be attractions at the theatre far more interesting than business," he insinuated.

"I don't know what you mean," she lied. In truth she knew exactly what he was talking about. Many of the lesser patrons had favourite girls amongst the dancers and the chorus and the women who had more prominent roles in the various operas would frequently have noblemen waiting at their dressing room doors.

"Really Christine?" Erik smirked. "You've been working at the theatre long enough to realise that it's not that much different to the gypsy camp. Tell me, who is the Vicomte's favourite? One of the dancers perhaps? Or maybe a singer?"

"Raoul isn't like that!" she exclaimed.

"You have been spending a lot of time with him recently," Erik mused. "I'm sure you would know." His emphasis made it clear to Christine that he thought she was the Vicomte's favourite.

"No."

"What has he told you Christine? What has he promised you?" He took a step closer to her and Christine forced herself to stay where she was. "Has he told you that he loves you? Does he arrange for you to meet in secret corners of the theatre? Does he kiss you Christine, and tell you that one small touch won't hurt anyone? Do you think a man like that will keep his promises?"

Christine was proud when she realised that she hadn't blushed at his comments, instead straightening her spine and staring back at Erik. "Raoul is a gentleman," she stressed.

"Ha! You know as well as I do that that means nothing," he sneered, watching her carefully to gauge her reaction. Erik knew that Christine was wiser that he was implying. Whilst there were plenty of wealthy men associated with the theatre who would easily woo a silly girl into their bed, Christine would never fall for empty words. And whilst he loathed the man, Christine had told him enough about Raoul for him to know that the Vicomte was not like those other men. That was why he had wanted Christine to spend time with him, because it appeared that he would be honourable in his dealings with Christine.

But he wanted her to crack. He needed her to hate him so it would be easier to let her go. That's why he kept throwing horrible accusations at her. He wanted Christine to admit to him that she was going to marry to Vicomte, that he had made a genuine offer for her hand and that she had accepted. He needed to hear her say that she was going to leave him, that she was prepared to turn her back on the life they were making together. Because it wasn't a life they were building together, not really, not the one he could only dream of. He needed to hear her say it out loud. One final nail in his coffin. He wondered whether the shock of hearing her say it might kill him. He darkly hoped that it would, although he doubted he would be that lucky.

What would it be like once she had told him? Would Christine be happy and laughing, pleased that she was able to share her news and that she would at last be able to leave him. Would she expect him to be happy for her, or would she not care how he felt? And would the pain hit him immediately, or would it take time to sink in?

"What is wrong with you?" Christine exploded. "You have never had a problem with my spending time with Raoul. I've always told you everything about him." That wasn't entirely true but at this stage Christine was too furious to care. Her promise not to push at Erik also flew from her mind. If he wouldn't love her like she loved him, then she would hurt him like he was hurting her. Anything would be better than this pain, even anger. "And I have never said anything that would suggest Raoul was that sort of man. I thought you would have known me better than that, to even suggest that I would allow myself to fall for a man like that is ridiculous."

Of course he knew that she would never allow the attentions of a man like that, but he wasn't going to admit that. Not until she had told him the truth about her engagement.

"Even if I did, it would be no concern of yours," she continued harshly. "You're not a relative who needs to be concerned with my reputation. You're not my brother or father. You're not my husband."

He knew that it was true but it hurt more than he had expected when she said that he wasn't her husband.

"To be honest I'm not even sure why you care at all. You've made it more than clear that you aren't interested in me or what is happening in my life, beyond my singing."

Why did she sound so hurt, Erik wondered. Wouldn't it have been worse if he had shown his intense interest in everything she did? Then she would have realised how he felt about her and known that a monster was in love with her and wanted to be the one she was engaged to.

"So tell me, why do you care Erik?" Christine didn't know what sort of answer she was expecting. What could he say that would explain this? "Why on earth does it matter to you whether I spend time with Raoul or whether I allow him to take liberties that might tarnish my reputation? Perhaps he will want to marry me and we'll raise a family together. Or he might leave me and I'll spend the rest of my life working at the theatre. But why would you care?"

Was that it? Was that how she was going to tell him that she had agreed to marry the Vicomte? She was taunting him, wanting him to react. It was too much for Erik and he couldn't bare it His heart was pounding and his Christine was standing in front of him, angry, with her fists clenched into little balls and her hair coming loose from the bun that she had carefully pinned it into early that day. She was going to leave him and he couldn't let that happen.

"This is why I care," he growled, rushing forward to pin her arms to her side and propel her backwards until she hit the wall. Bending down he desperately pushed his mouth against her's, silently begging her to respond. He pushed her harder against the wall, his hips pressed against her. He ran his tongue along her lips and when she opened beneath him he slipped inside. His kiss was messy and inexperienced and his mask meant that he couldn't fully feel her skin against his. But none of that matter because he could taste Christine.