A/N I cannot believe I have had over 200 reviews for this story, thank you everyone who has added this to favorites and reviewed. Thank you for bearing with me, and my oft-times 'poor English', as in my head what I post always looks correct but I know that in practice that is not always the case! I'm loving writing this fic and I hope you all have fun reading it to :) Sorry this looks to be my longest chapter yet - hope you enjoy :) Cheers Dt

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to these characters or any settings/places. This is merely a fanmade writing experiment and is in no way profit making.

The Phantom and Moppet

Chapter Twenty Nine


'I still can't believe you didn't come last week.' Little Jammes said to Christine as they changed for rehearsal.

'Christine is to saintly to ever do anything that resembles fun,' sneered Veronica, the brunette annoyed at Christine's non attendance of her party as she hated missing the chance to show off.

'Christine's guardian would not allow her. He is very strict.' Meg defended Christine.

'Well he sounds like a tyrant,' Veronica snipped.

'He is not,' Christine hotly denied, incensed at any slur to Erik.

'Christine is his only family and he relies on her,' Meg supported, even though she privately agreed with Veronica but knew Christine would become angry if she said as much.

'You did miss a good party though,' Astrid said, hoping to avoid an argument.

'Yes indeed it was fun.' Edith agreed, 'And the dreamy Marcel was there. What was it like when he danced with you?' Edith asked.

'He swept me into his arms, and held me so very close,' Veronica preened 'It was so romantic.' She sighed, pleased to be the centre of attention once more.

'Did he kiss you?' Little Jammes pried.

'Yes,' blushed Veronica prettily.

'What was it like?' Astrid asked, intrigued.

'It was wonderful.' Veronica feigned a romantic sigh, not confessing how uncomfortable she'd felt when Marcel had thrust his tongue into her mouth, whilst his hands roamed all over her.

'It must be dreamy having such a handsome boyfriend,' Meg said, her longing evident.

'Its marvellous.' grinned Veronica delighted, the girls were envious of her.

'Yes it must be fun to have someone to spoil …' Astrid's voice trailed off as she, Veronica, Edith and Little Jammes made their way down to the stage.

Christine was not quite ready and Meg hung back to wait for her sister, hoping to catch a private word.

'Veronica seems smitten,' Meg said steering the conversation toward boys.

'Yes very. She certainly seems to enjoy the attention,' Christine replied irked, still miffed at the insult to Erik.

'And the kissing. I wonder what it's like,' giggled Meg.

'What, what's like?' Christine asked confused.

'Kissing silly.' Meg laughed, curious as to what it would be like to kiss a certain gangly stage hand.

Kissing? Christine had never given a thought to kissing anyone much less Veronica's slimy boyfriend, but then unbidden she wondered - What would it like to kiss Erik that way?

Instantly she pushed the thought away as she knew Erik would not want her to be daydreaming about kissing. He would be angry and upset at the idea and she'd vowed never again to hurt her angel.

It had taken a few days before they had comfortably settled back into their routine after their argument, and Christine had spent all week reassuring Erik of their friendship and that she was going nowhere.

She smiled as she remembered how he'd had given her that sheepish look, as they had tidied up their home, and Christine had grinned at him to let him know that all was ok.

'I love you, Erik,' she'd told him, and, bewildered he'd confessed: 'I love you to.' Christine, hadn't been able to help her jubilant grin every time she thought about it.

Just as she had to prevail upon him his good and honest character, Christine knew she had to convince him of her devotion.

So every night since their quarrel as they said goodnight, she had giddily told him she loved him, and was enchanted to see the bemused expression in his eyes when she did.

Eventually her angel would trust that she cherished him, but until then she would take great delight in reminding him every day, she thought with a gleaming smile.

Unaware her sister wasn't listening to a word she said, herself gazing off into the distance, Meg revealed the secret she'd been longing to share with Christine all week.

'When Garlan gave me your message last week, he and I got talking. He complimented me, and made me laugh,' Meg blushed, as she remembered how he had bashfully admitted he had wanted an excuse to speak to her for weeks, the sparkle in his eye, and his cheeky grin.

'And when mother heard me laughing she came out and glared and frightened him off.' Meg smiled nervous, yet also thrilled when she thought of the young stage hand.

'But then later he snook into Veronica's party, and whilst Mama was occupied trying to keep an eye on Marcel, he took my hand and led us till we were hid in the masses and we… and we danced,' Meg confessed, with a grin.

She recalled how his long dark hair had fallen into his sky blue eyes as they danced, his captivating smile, the way he had held her close, how wonderful it had felt pressed so close up against him and the butterflies that fluttered even now in her stomach.

'I'm not sure how long we danced, but eventually mother found us and under her piercing glare Garlan fled again, but not before he bowed to me and kissed my hand, bravely risking mothers wrath,' Meg whispered breathless with remembered delight.

Tingles had ran all through her body as his lips briefly touched her hand and a longing had awakened in her. Meg silently wondered if that's how wonderful a kiss on your hand made you feel - what would it be like to kiss Garlan on the lips?

Out loud she confided, 'I really like him. He is so funny and charming, and so handsome don't you think? Oh Christine, do you think he likes me to?' Meg asked in a rush, but receiving no reply focused on her sister.

'Christine?' Meg repeated, suddenly furious to realise that the far away grin Christine wore meant she had not heard a word Meg had said.

'Christine Daae, I am talking to you,' Meg yelled, hurt Christine had ignored her confession of her secret longing.

'Oh I'm sorry Meg did you say something?' Christine asked tearing her thoughts from Erik, and concentrating on Meg.

'Did I… Did you not hear a word I just said?' Meg seethed ready to explode.

Christine started to apologise but was interrupted, 'I am sorry, Meg. I was…'

'Was just thinking about ERIK,' Meg spat.

'Why yes I was,' admitted Christine with an impish grin.

Meg had bared her deepest secrets and Christine had once again drifted off thinking of her precious Phantom, and not bothered to listen to her, and as Meg saw her sister grin she lost it.

'How could you Christine? We are like sisters yet when I try to confide in you, your attention always, ALWAYS wonders back to Erik,' Meg snapped.

'I am sorry, Meg. I didn't mean to ignore you, it's just Erik and I…' But again Meg cut off Christine's explanation.

'Erik and I. Erik said this. Erik said that. It always Erik with you,' Meg fumed.

'Yes it is always, Erik. He is my best friend, and he needs me,' Christine defended him, her hackles beginning to rise. 'It is very thought provoking being best friends with a Phantom,' Christine smiled, hoping to appease Meg. She did not want to fight with her sister.

Meg didn't grasp the olive branch and shouted, 'The Phantom is always there between us. I wouldn't mind, but he is nothing to grin about. He is frightening in that mask. I don't know how you stand to be around him?' Meg goaded.

All thoughts of diplomacy fled at criticism of Erik, and Christine lashed out in his defence. 'He never wears that mask at home, only when he is out, and then only to stop ignorant fools from staring.' Christine glared at her, the implication obvious.

Even though riled at the accusation Meg's curiosity was aroused at this revelation. Christine never talked about Erik, she just frustratingly sat and daydreamed of him.

'Have you really seen him without his mask? What does he look like? Is he really as terrifyingly ugly as mother says? Does he not scare you?' Meg asked, her long pent up questions tumbling out one after another.

Pain and anger washed over Christine at Meg's interrogation. Yes Erik looked different, but he was the most miraculous, intelligent, interesting, and caring person she had ever met, and Christine adored him.

No one was allowed to insult Erik, not even her adored sister. How could Meg abuse, Erik? Erik who was as much Meg's family as Christine herself was.

Blazingly angry Christine attacked. 'How dare you? Erik is a wonderful person. You know this you have spent time with him. You know how kind and good he is.'

'I know he is scary and intimidating,' Meg hissed.

'Scary and …' Christine trailed off unable to believe her ears. How could Meg think that after the many Christmas's they spent laughing and playing together? 'Well you didn't seem scared or intimidated as we played chess with Erik last Christmas day.'

Privately Meg had to agree. Erik had never been anything other courteous and polite to her, and went out of his way to make Christine and her laugh when they were together. Not to mention he always got her thoughtful gifts.

But neither was he the saint Christine took him for, and she was somewhat intimidated by his mask. 'That doesn't mean I don't find him overwhelming. He is so big and looming. And that mask just adds to his creepiness!'

'Creepiness?' Christine repeated livid. 'Erik is the most gentle and devoted friend you could ever ask for. You don't know him like I do.'

'Ha! Don't know him? Its YOU that doesn't know HIM. He…' Meg paused then, as she realised what she had almost revealed in her temper.

'He, what?' Christine demanded. 'Erik and I tell each other everything. He hides nothing from me. It's you who knows nothing.'

'Your Phantom is a thief! He demands money from managers,' Meg revealed, all thoughts of protecting Christine forgotten in her fury at Christine's stubborn belief in, and defence of, Erik.

'I don't believe you,' Christine instantly denied. 'You're just saying that to discredit him,' she bristled.

'I'm lying, am I? I heard mother telling Nadir about it. So, if you don't believe me go ask him! Go ask you precious angel where 20,000 francs of the Opera House funds disappear to every month,' Meg snarled, regretting her hasty words as she saw pain flash in her dear sister's eyes.

Christine couldn't breathe. No! It wasn't true. He would never do something like that. Never? A worm of doubt taunted her. You know he is capable of so much more than theft.

Hurt sliced through her at the disloyal thought. Her stomach churned to think of her angel as a willing thief and with a silent cry of 'Erik' and a moan of agony, Christine fled. Determined to find Erik so he could refute it.


Sat at his organ, eyes closed, Erik let the music pour from his soul. His argument with Christine, and her declaration of love, had shaken his world and, as ever music was his release.

He was still shocked that he had slipped and admitted how much he cared about his little friend, and was truly stunned by her delighted reaction to his words.

'My Christine, My little moppet,

Still so much for you to learn and do,

You are my world, my only friend,

And I'd be lost without you.

You trust and adore me,

Though I'm worthy of nought,

You're wise beyond your years,

Of that there is no doubt.

I promise to protect you,

Guide you through the night,

Keep you safe in the…

Erik trailed off as an uneasiness crept into his mind. 'Christine…' he whispered out loud.

He had long since ceased to question their bond which had them so attuned to the other's feelings and sensing her call, Erik quickly stood and made his way up to the Opera House above - Christine needed him.

He did not get very far when he came across a sobbing Christine who rushed into his arms. 'Christine are you okay?' Erik asked, terrified, she was hurt.

Christine clung to him sobbing and whispered, 'Please, Erik take me home.' Erik instantly swung her up into his arms and hurriedly carried her back to their sanctuary.

Back in their candle lit home, Erik was relieved to see that no physical harm had seemed to have befallen his little friend, but worry and concern had him almost babbling.

'What is it Christine? What has upset you? Are you hurt?' Erik asked the still sobbing child, who now sat on his lap her head buried into his shoulder.

Christine dragged in a deep breath, before she lifted her head to meet Erik's gaze. Now she was here with him, she was convinced that Meg was only trying to hurt her.

But Meg was so specific, so sure… that tiny niggle refused to quiet. 'I am not harmed, Erik,' she reassured him, seeing the worry in his eyes, and heard him give a huge sigh of relief.

'Thank goodness for that at least. Then what or who had upset you, Christine?' Erik asked relieved, yet puzzled.

'I have argued with, Meg.' Christine told him, looking into the fire lest he see the question in her eyes.

Erik had seen the brief look of doubt in her eyes before she had looked away and he felt his emotional barriers slam into place. Christine had never looked at him like that before, not even after she had witnessed him murder, and for her to be this upset after arguing with Meg - only he could be the cause.

'You argued with, Meg? It must have been quite an argument that you would abandon your rehearsal. What happened, Christine?' Erik asked carefully, braced for rejection.

Oh no, rehearsal! Christine had forgotten all about it in her need to speak to, Erik. She felt him stiffen and knew he sensed her mistrust, that she had already had hurt her angel, and Christine was torn. She didn't want to doubt him, but she needed to hear him deny it.

She drew in a deep breath and forced herself to meet his gaze. 'Meg said… Meg said that you demand money from the managers. That you… that you steal. It's not true is it, Erik?' Christine asked in a rush.

The hope and devotion in her gaze both flattered and tore at him. He detested seeing that wary look she gave him. 'As you argued, I take it you disagreed with Meg?' Erik asked, hating himself for being yet again the cause of her tears.

'Of course I did, Erik. I don't believe it,' Christine hastened to reassure him but couldn't help herself asking, 'It's not true is it, Erik?'

He would have loved to squelch the seed of uncertainty he could read in her eyes but he couldn't lie to his little friend. Their friendship demanded honesty and, Erik dragged in much needed air as he confessed, 'I'm afraid my dear, that it is true.'

Erik felt pain knife through him at the hurt, betrayed look his words brought to her gaze.

'I don't believe it. You are not a thief. I don't believe you would defraud the Opera House of money. Especially as you do not need it,' Christine denied, defending Erik even to himself. This, even as her own conscience questioned - how did Erik earn a living as he had no job?

Erik gave a relieved sigh and wry smile at her defence. Christine was always determined to see the good him. It was a wonder the poor child wasn't blind from continually trying to find a shard of light in his consuming darkness.

'I admit I do not need the money,' he confirmed, 'but I also have to confess that I never really thought that Debienne and Poligny were so weak that they would give into my demands,' Erik explained, and watched as confusion mixed in with her disbelief.

The whole truth although confirmed his guilt was not as bleak as it seemed, and needing to banish that hesitation he saw in her gaze he said sheepishly, 'I may have gotten a little carried away with my threats when they ignored my orders a few years back, but I honestly never dreamed they would comply.' He shamefully disclosed.

'No one was more shocked than me when, Minette turned up with the envelope of money I had demanded they leave in box five.' Erik told her, even now amazed at how easy it had all been.

Christine watched the emotions chasing across Erik's face: shame and self hatred; fear of her rejection; amazement his threats had worked; pain at his honesty; and his silent plea for her to understand and not revile him.

She knew she should be shocked at this latest revelation but she could all to easily see Erik getting carried away as he ranted, and was relieved to know that he had not intended to steal at least.

'But, Erik, when they did obey you why did you not return the money?' Christine asked.

'Without ruining my threatening Phantom persona, how could I? I would have looked weak if I suddenly changed my mind and returned the money,' Erik explained, watching keenly for her reaction.

'Yes, but, Erik, not only is it wrong to keep it, but it hurts the Opera…' Christine trailed off and looked suspiciously into his eyes, '… it hurts the Opera house if they are draining money from it to pay you.'

Her eyes narrowed, and then she grinned. 'You would never do anything to hurt this place - you love it. This is your home. So how did you manage to stop the managers giving you money without ruining your menacing, Phantom, image?' she asked convinced Erik would do nothing detrimental to the running of his Opera House.

Erik was astounded at not only her continued faith in him, but how well she knew him. She was right he would never do anything to hinder the running of his theatre, and as he could tell she had bewilderingly, forgiven him yet another crime. Erik couldn't help but tease her a little.

'I have not stopped them,' he calmly told her, 'I still receive a monthly retainer of 20,000 francs every month from our insipid managers.'

Christine frowned. Then sighed perplexed. 'Erik, you are a good man, and one who adores this Opera House. I do not believe for one minute that you would do anything to upset the running of it,' she told him annoyed as he grinned at her words.

She truly was an angel. An angel sent to drag his worthless hide kicking and screaming into the light. He couldn't quite credit that she still trusted him, and was glad that in this, at least, (unlike all his past sins) he was not wholly a villain.

'You are right, of course,' Erik confirmed with a smile, 'But it was as much your honest influence, as it was fear of the theatre in ruin, that had me right this wrong.' He was delighted to see her beaming grin follow his words.

'I knew you were not a thief.' she happily declared.

'I did think about keeping money,' Erik teased, and hid a grin at her grimace, 'but I knew you would be unhappy if I did… so I returned it.'

She looked at him perplexed. 'But I thought you said the Phantom could not return the money?' Christine asked, dizzy from her back and forth emotions.

'The Phantom does not return it,' Erik told her with a grin and watched as dawning realisation crossed her features, delighted she had figured it out, though a little baffled as she jumped up from his lap, only to grin as he saw what she held when she returned a few moments later.

He watched as she figured it all out and was humbled by the magnificent smile she bestowed upon him when she looked up to meet his gaze.

'You are Mr Tresled!' she said delighted, showing Erik her working out the anagram of his name.

'Mr Tresled?' Erik asked, feigning ignorance.

'Don't you plead innocent with me, Erik Destler. You know full well, the theatre has an invisible backer who financially supports the Opera House. It is supposed to be a secret so of course everyone knows about him.' Christine mock glared at him, daring him to deny it.

Erik laughed at her expression: Christine was a constant joy to him. 'There is no fooling you, I see.' Erik said with a grin.

'Oh Erik, do you really send the managers 20,000 francs back every month?' she smiled at him.

'No.' Erik said laughing, 'But Mr Tresled does. Although it is never exactly 20,000 francs as that would give the game away. It is sometimes more, sometimes less but over the years the Opera House has come out the winner,' Erik admitted, delighted to see her enraptured smile, but worried when it turned somber.

'Oh Erik, how many masks must you wear? You are the thieving, threatening Phantom in one mask, and the bountiful Mr Tresled in another. And both are a pale shadow when compared to the great and wonderful, true Erik Destler,' she softly said with a sad smile.

Erik was deeply moved at her understanding, and her compassion. He really did not deserve his little moppet. 'Please do not be sad, Christine. You know these masks are necessary to keep the cold, unfeeling, and spiteful world at bay. Not everyone is as benevolent and good as you,' Erik comforted.

'Besides, Mr Tresled is very specific in his instructions on how the money is to be spent, and which productions are to be performed,' he smirked.

'Occasionally, Mr Tresled may include a few dabbles he just might have composed himself, and with a disgruntled Phantom, (who just happens to be a fan of Mr Tresled's work), to coincidentally support any suggestions Mr Tresled may have made, its not very often either of these gentleman don't get their own way.' He grinned smugly at her.

'Oh Erik, what an honest scoundrel you are,' Christine laughed, enchanted at his smile, and overjoyed her angel was not a thief. 'Trust you to find a way to ensure your every order is obeyed, without ever having to actually set foot inside the auditorium.' Christine grinned.

'Though it is common knowledge that the mysterious and absent Mr Tresled has done nothing but wonders for the Opera House. Everyone sings his praises, even Mr Reyer, and Madam Giry say so,' Christine enthused.

'Oh Madam Giry - she does not know you are Mr Tresled, does she?' Christine asked then, 'That is why Meg only heard her mother talking about you stealing the money - they don't know you give it back.' she realised.

'No. Nobody but you knows, and I would appreciate your word that we can keep it that way.' Erik implored suddenly serious.

'I promise I won't say anything, Erik, but why can't I? Why must you let everyone believe the worst of you? And how do maintain the façade of Mr Tresled without Madam Giry or Nadir's help?' Christine asked, exasperated.

'Well the later is simple. I just ride Caesar to Versailles and I post all of Mr Tresled correspondence from there, and when Debienne and Poligny reply, I have false address set up, where by all the mail is forwarded from there back to Nadir's address here in Paris.' Erik explained.

Christine's brow furrowed so Erik proceeded to answer her silent question. 'And no, Nadir had no idea what the contents of my occasional mail is.' Then said, 'As to the former, I cannot help it if Nadir and the Giry's choose to see the worst in me.'

Christine could see how hurt he was that they doubted him. 'But, Erik, you have not told them the truth, so how can they see that you are not a thief, when all they know is you are the Opera Ghost?' Christine asked wanting to ease his pain.

'No, I have not told them the truth, but then I told you I was stealing from my foolish puppet managers and even then you did not believe I could be a thief. Even when you heard it from my own lips.' Erik smiled sadly whilst inside he was still amazed at her continued devotion.

'Yes but…' Christine trailed off as she realised Erik was right. She may have had a niggling doubt but she had never truly believed that Erik was a thief. She could see it was rubbish, so why couldn't they?

She saw that resigned kicked look in his eye and her anger flared. Damn Nadir and the Giry's, how dare they hurt him. Wanting to forever banish that haunted look, Christine took and held Erik's hand.

'I believe in you. I love you.' She adored the bewildered expression that appeared once more in his gaze.

'I don't know why,' Erik muttered, knowing he was not deserving of her honest affection, and dumbfounded that she continued to care for him.

'Because you are a wonderful, honourable, splendid person, who is my best friend and my angel of music.' Christine dotingly replied.

'If you say so, Christine,' Erik agreed suddenly tired. It had been a long emotional week, and he was still incredulous that anyone, especially his sweet Christine, could love a wretch like himself.

'Erik, where did you get your money from?' Christine's innocent question sent his mind spinning back to those days of hell in Persia.

Christine witnessed the pain and suffering that entered his eyes at her question, and cursed herself for causing it. She squeezed his hand and called his name hoping to bring him back from whatever horror he was reliving.

'Erik…' Christine calling his name, and her tight clasp of his hand finally registered and Erik dragged his mind back to his little friend.

'It is ok, Erik, I am here,' Christine reassured as his gaze focused on her once more.

'I…' Erik didn't know what to say - how could he explain the 'angel of death' he once was.

'It is alright, Erik. You do not have to tell me anything. I am sorry I did not mean to pry.'

Erik's heart pounded and he dragged in a deep breath, gathering his scattered wits.

'I am independently wealthy, Christine, but please can we leave the how for another day?' Erik begged, his haunted demons torturing him once more. He never wanted her to know the atrocities he had committed in his past.

'Of course, Erik. Please forgive me. I didn't mean to upset you.' Christine said as tears stung her eyes.

Erik watched a single tear trickle down her cheek and damned his repulsive carcass for every misery he'd caused Christine. Please forgive her? It would be funny if it was not so tragic.

It should be him pleading with her daily for her continued favour, and he hoped against hope that she would never know what a macabre miscreant he was.

'There is nothing to forgive, Christine. It is I who am sorry for upsetting you,' Erik said calmly. The Phantom fully in command once more.

'You didn't upset me, Erik. I just hate to see you sad,' Christine explained and was pleased to see him smile as he so very gently wiped away one of her tears.

'And I hate to see you sad.' Erik then grinned at her, turning both their thoughts away from his grim trip down memory lane. 'And yet if we don't get you back to you ballet class soon we will both be sad as Minette, will tear a strip off us both,' he said smiling with mock fear. Christine giggled as he'd intended.

'Oh, Erik, she will be furious. You now she will make me stay over and do extra practice.' Christine said with a resigned smile, as they started to make their way above.

'Well let us see if the Phantom can't convince her, you were unavoidably delayed,' Erik smirked, determined Minette would not punish Christine, and was gratified to see her conspiratorial smile.

'Maybe Mr Tresled, could write and suggest Madam Giry not be so hard on tardy ballet rats.' Christine winked at him, and they both laughed. The sound of their laughter echoing around the underground lake, lightening its dark corners, as it did Erik's heart.