Chapter 21: Fragmented Forgiveness

Christine had no idea how long it had been since she stopped crying. Her body had grown numb, all feeling of time abandoning her. Instead, she was enveloped in warmth and tears.

The dam had broken. A part of her wanted to scream at him, demand that he answer all her questions, and beg him to apologize. Why had he lied to her? Why had he abandoned her? Why was he now an assassin for the Shah? Her heart ached to think that the kind and loving angel she knew as a child was now a killer but he had lied to her for so long that she realized she never really knew who he was.

But instead, she had collapsed. For so long she was consumed in her guilt that she just wanted to be free of it. She didn't care if he had lied, he was still her angel, her guardian, her friend. She needed his forgiveness and by some miracle, he gave it to her. Now she felt as though she could finally breathe again. The questions that burned her mind were gone. She didn't care how they ended up here, just that they were finally here.

His hands rested on her hip, her body turned sideways against him. His cheek rested on her forehead as hers snuggled in the crook of his neck. His cheek was soft and smooth, slowly growing heavier on her head the longer they rested like this. She sniveled against his jarring collarbone, taking in his strange yet comforting scent. Did she smell spices? Was that the unfamiliar scent? La Sorelli had mentioned that the men of Persia smelled like spices and availability, a lewd comment Christine had ignored at the time. But now she wondered if this was that enticing scent that calmed her. That, along with the now steady rhythm of his heart, lulled her to a state of peace. It was a feeling she hadn't felt in a long time, something indescribable yet welcoming.

Whatever this was, it was heavenly.

After her snivels had ceased, she began to grow more aware of her situation. She was alone, in a hidden room, lying in the arms of a man. She could feel his defined form underneath her in too much detail. His chest solid, seemingly sculpted under his suit. His arms held her close, gripping her tighter when she occasionally moved from her ragged breathing. One of her hands held onto his bicep and it took all she had not to squeeze them to feel how firm they were. The more she analysed their position, the more she realized how indecent it was.

But that didn't matter. She wanted this. She wanted to stay here. That foreign feeling in her stomach returned and for once she welcomed it.

She blinked. No. This was wrong. What was she thinking? She barely knew this man and their position was most inappropriate. Even though she wanted his forgiveness, it didn't change that he had lied. That meant he couldn't be trusted, right? But if that is the case, why did this feel so natural?

Despite the ache in her heart, she gently pulled away from him. She couldn't meet his eyes, instead wrapping her arms around her knees as she sat upright. She wondered how he felt. Had she forced herself upon him with her pathetic tears? Was he embarrassed, but too polite to push her away? Her cheeks burned a dark shade of crimson.

"Thank you." She mumbled, staring down at the river below.

"Of course." Was his curt reply. He quickly stood, offering a hand to help her. She took it, though she dared not to look up at him. She hugged herself tightly.

"Are you hungry?"

His voice was quieter, smoother, no longer the dark growl she was used to. It gave her the courage to look up at him for just a moment. But she could not read any emotions on his half-covered face. Maybe he was annoyed with her?

"A little."

"Your friends will be long gone from the dining room, though I prepared for this." He walked to a small table near the back of the room where there was a tray of bread, berries, meat, and some form of pastry. Her stomach still felt queasy, but Christine understood that she needed to eat. She followed him. He offered her a seat which she bashfully took.

She waited for him to sit across from her, but instead he returned to the piano, arms crossed as he leaned against it. She stared at him.

"Eat." He instructed.

"Will you join me?" Christine asked. It was difficult enough to reciprocate common civilised eye contact let alone bear the intensity of his eyes on her while she ate.

"No. I have already eaten. Eat as much as you'd like."

Christine gulped. Hesitantly, she took a bite of bread. It was sweet and flavourful, but she forced herself to eat slowly lest she look like a starved animal. The last thing she needed would be to disgust him as well as annoy him. "Will we perform for the Shah after this?" She was more concerned with starting a conversation to fill the awkward silence than the answer to that question.

"No. The Shah was supposed to arrive at the palace yesterday, but was delayed with other matters. He will not return for a few more days." The phantom walked back to his piano bench, flaring out his coattails as he sat. "This is to our advantage."

"As it gives us more time to rehearse?" Christine asked in-between bites of some mouth-watering meat. She could not identify it, but devoured it nonetheless.

The Phantom nodded, playing the piano softly. "It may also give us time to reinvigorate the other aspects of the performance. There are many fabrics to our disposal that could be used for costumes. I believe Monsieur Caron plays the violin correct? I have one he may borrow. It shouldn't take long for him and his wife to remember the music."

Christine ate as he babbled on about all the improvements that could be made. If Ignacio had a violin, Matilda had access to costumes, and Bastian some form of prop and stage pieces, then they would have a part in the performance. Wouldn't this improve their chances of survival? The only person who would not be busy during the performance would be Madame Giry, but she clearly would be working with the ballet. Her heart swelled with hope as she listened to his ideas. With his help, they may be able to save everyone regardless of their role in the Opera. She felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from her heart, sections of the heavy burden chipping away the more he spoke.

"It also gives me time to find this pestering rat."

Christine's head snapped up. She had forgotten about the rat, someone who clearly had betrayed their trust. But it was the return of his dark growl that worried her. Her angel barely seemed to realize he was talking aloud, his eyes focused on the music in front of him.

"What will you do when you find them?" She uttered, her voice just loud enough for him to hear her. He stopped playing, his eyes meeting hers.

"That is none of your concern." He replied curtly.

"They are my friends." She protested.

"Friends do not betray you." He snapped. A pang of guilt silenced her as he continued to play. Yes, she thought, they weren't really friends, were they? Although he forgave her, she had still betrayed him. A new flame burned in her chest, though she tried to suppress it. What did she have to do to earn his friendship? To earn his true forgiveness? Did he not realize that he needed her forgiveness as well?

Christine put her half eaten bread down on the tray, her mind too preoccupied with its internal argument. Her father had preached to her about the importance of forgiveness ever since she was a little girl. Despite all the struggles they had suffered, her father constantly reminded her the importance of being a good person. He read her scriptures daily, challenged her anger by forcing her to consider situations from another person's shoes. He told her stories of forgiveness and how it made them better people. Christine wouldn't lie, there were days when she swore she would never forgive Carlotta for what she had done, but her father had always encouraged her to take a step back.

"Your emotions are valid, my dear. But so are hers." He had once said.

"But Papa! She is always mean to me, even when I try to be nice!"

"And that is wrong, my dear. You do not deserve the brunt of her anger. You do not have to be friends with her, in fact, for now I would encourage you not to. But there is some internal reason why she is so cruel. Maybe cruelty is all she has ever known? Is that her fault? We must learn to forgive others. If we let that anger consume us, we will never have the opportunity to love and learn. It is difficult, I understand that Christine. Terrible things happen to people when we are consumed by hatred and the worst of it all is our inability to understand others."

Christine looked over at the Phantom, who continued to play the piano. As much as it hurt her, she knew that he never needed her forgiveness, but merely an explanation. She needed to understand him and understand all that had happened, but she couldn't be consumed by her anger. He had forgiven her so easily, she should reciprocate that same kindness.

But her stubbornness refused to yield to his cruelty.

"I don't know exactly what this rat did, but I know that they are a friend of mine. Friends do not betray each other, and they should be punished for what they have done, but not in the way I believe you intend. Promise me you will not hurt them?"

"I will make no such promises."

"Whatever they have done they must have already paid for their mistakes? Please forgive them."

"I am not the forgiving type, mademoiselle."

"Clearly." Christine snapped. Her eyes widened as the words escaped her lips. Where was this defiance coming from? Hadn't he just forgiven her?

He laughed mirthlessly, flames burning in his eyes. "I do not lie, mademoiselle. As I told you, I forgive you for your betrayal. However your 'friends' have led you to your possible demise and continue to cowardly hide under your naive kindness. Forgiveness should be earned, not given out of pity."

The flames in her soul exploded. I do not lie, mademoiselle. How dare he! He had done nothing but lie to her since she was a little girl! And her forgiveness was not naive, it originated from her father's teachings, from God himself!

"I am as naive as you are truthful, le phantom." She quipped.

In a blur, the phantom leapt off the piano bench, storming towards her. Her hands naturally rose to protect herself as his hands slammed on the table and chair, his eyes bearing down on her. She was trapped inbetween his arms again.

"Listen to me well, little song bird. I understand that I lied to you. I hate myself for it, trust me. But I have my reasons which we will never discuss. That is final. If you wish to dispute on who the real threat is, I will gladly enlighten you on your supposed friend. This rat sent you under the pretense that they would survive this horrid ordeal but with full knowledge that the rest of you would not. If you think my anonymity was cruel, then I promise you that this rat is the devil herself!"

She trembled underneath him. The rat knew they would be captured? The rat knew that this would be their fate? Her stomach dropped to think that one of her friends smiled alongside her with full knowledge of the hell they were about to endure.

It also didn't escape her that he said 'herself'.

"You deserve an explanation for what I did, one I plan on giving to you." He continued, his tone softening though still assertive. "But now we must focus on our performance. The Shah must be pleased if you want to survive. Don't worry, my dear. You will amaze him, you will save your friends, and then…" He hesitated. He stared down at a loose curl over her forehead. The hairs on her arms stood on edge as he gently curled it behind her ear. How was he able to terrify her and make her feel like a giddy child all at once?

His other hand gripped onto the table a little tighter, both of them ignoring the achy groan released from the wood under his grip. "And then, I will tell you everything. Forget about the rat, forget about me, forget about everything but your performance. Then, we will discuss all other matters. Do we have a deal?"

Christine didn't respond. Her hands remained clasped over her heart. He was right, though she refused to admit it. What would it matter if she learned about him or the identity of the rat? Everyone would die if she didn't impress the Shah. That was the main task at hand, regardless of the burning questions that tore her apart inside. She swallowed down her fury.

"Yes." She whispered.

She ate the rest of the meal in silence. He returned to the piano, continuing to play a gentle sonata that echoed around her. As her mind raced with questions and fears, she did her best to ignore them by listening to it. It was a piece she had never heard before, though it was captivatingly beautiful. Her body naturally swayed along with it as she ate as much food as she could. It wasn't until her nerves had calmed and her tray was empty that she stood. He was lost in the music too, his body also swaying with the heavenly song. Christine could only stare at the man before her, playing over a river in the underbelly of a palace. What a sight to behold.

She walked over to him, feeling lulled by his soft music and the warmth of her full belly. This was the angel she remembered. A being so invested in music that he seemed to have created it himself. This feeling of calmness and joy were all she used to feel around him, but lately it had been mixed with fear.

To forgive you have to understand, her father had told her. More than anything in the world, she wanted to understand what had happened to him to drive him to this darkness. Because regardless of his outbreaks, deep down she saw a dim flickering of her angel.

"Have you finished?" He asked, continuing to play the soft melody without error.

She nodded. "Yes, monsieur."

The phantom finished his melody and stood, holding out an elbow for her to take. "I will escort you back to your friends. I am afraid I cannot give you a better sleeping quarter, though I had the daroga and his pups to find some mats to make your stay more comfortable."

She took his elbow, following him back through the tunnels to the mirror. The daroga must have been another name for Nadir Khan as she remembered the phantom calling the grey haired man this when they rehearsed in the shack. Her cheeks burned slightly as she remembered his arms around her for that spin. She turned from him, trying to hide her now flaming cheeks as she remembered that an hour ago she was wrapped in his arms on the floor. Not even Raoul had held her like that.

He led her back through the tunnel towards the mirror. She could see the entire empty palace hall, now lit by torches. She furrowed her brow. She swore this was a mirror, so how was she able to see through it?

The Phantom seemed to sense her confusion. "It is a one way mirror, most resourceful for a door for a secret room. This way I can ensure that no one is around when I open it." Christine watched in awe as he pulled a small lever, the glass sliding into the wall to make an opening.

"Was the mirror in la Sorelli's changing room the same?" She asked.

Christine could feel the muscles in his arm tense. "Yes."

They continued in silence, walking through the luxurious hall. Christine admired the ivory and gold designs and the long colourful silks that decorated the walls. There were tapestries and statues designed in peculiar though elegant ways. She stared at them intently, trying her best to ignore the scent of spices that radiated off her angel.

Soon they arrived at a large black door. The phantom pulled a set of keys from his coat pocket, unlocking the door with a loud clunk. As he pulled it open, her senses were overridden with the desolate scent of the dungeon. She shivered.

"Don't be afraid." He whispered. "No one will hurt you here."

She nodded, gripping onto his elbow a little tighter. He led her through the dungeon towards the far back. Christine kept her eyes downcast, watching her every step instead of the inhabitants of the cells alongside her. Though she was perplexed as to why it was so silent. Her curiosity became overpowering and she glanced at one of the cells as they walked by. A man quivered in his cell, his bony skeleton jarring out of his thin skin. He had scurried to the back corner of the cage where he gawked at her.

No, not her. At the Phantom.

I will make no such promises.

How was a man who could envelop her soul with a gentle tune able to instill the fear of God in these prisoners? How powerful was he truly? Her eyes began to water as she thought of him torturing her friends. What if the rat was Madame Giry? What if it was Sorelli, or Meg? What if this was all a misunderstanding and her friends would suffer greatly at his gentle hands?

She stopped. He turned to look at her, but she could not meet his eyes.

"I can't do this." She trembled. She pulled her hand away from his, hugging herself.

"Christine, none of these degenerates will hurt you-"

"No." Christine snapped. "I understand that I need to focus on my performance. Nothing will deter me from doing my best. With your guidance, I am sure I will do well. But I cannot continue to pretend that I am content with our conversation today."

He didn't respond. She stared up at him, forcing herself to not cry when she met his eyes. "I am tired of living in fear. Look around you. These men are terrified of you, and I dare not ask what you have done to deserve their fear, my angel."

"Stop." He waved his hand. "You are right, I have earned their fear through brutal means. I am no angel, Christine. If anything, I am the devil himself-"

"No." She cried, taking a deep breath to collect herself. "I may not know your name, or why you are here, or why you lied, but I know you. You're wonderful, a muse in human form. You have the voice of an angel and enough talent to make a battered instrument sing. You are kind, though conflicted. I see these things in you, and I have known you since I was a child. Though you hid your physical form, you could not hide your soul from me."

The corner of his mouth had opened as he gawked at her.

"I can't pretend that you are just some angel in my head anymore. Nor can I pretend that you are an angel at all. Yes, what you have done to these men must have been terrible. I don't understand why you are motivated by such violence and terror. But if you are anything like the man I knew, I know that you can be a good person. I want to understand."

She took his hand. "These hands can make the most beautiful music the world has ever heard. Don't waste it on violence. Please, don't tarnish them with the blood of my friends, regardless of their sins. Instead, use them to let me understand your pain. I understand how difficult it is, but don't take your anger out on them. They don't deserve it, but neither do you."

She forced herself to stare into his eyes. She needed him to be better, regardless of how selfish her desire was. This man was her pillar of reason, source of music and comfort, and dear friend for so long. How it hurt her to see him as this ferocious assassin when she still caught glimpses of that man he used to be. One day, she would learn the truth, but for now all she cared about was that the soul she used to cherish as a child was still there.

"You ask for the impossible." He whispered in one ragged breath. There was a glimmer in his eyes. It was something familiar, something she once knew as a child. Somehow they naturally ended up closer to each other and she welcomed that now familiar warmth. "How could I tell you no?"

She smiled encouragingly. "Nothing is impossible, especially not with friends." She still clasped his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Friends." He muttered, his eyes gazing down at their clasped hands. "I have been anything but a friend to you."

"You've protected me, trained me, done your best to look after my friends. You didn't have to do this."

"In case you forgot, you are sleeping in a dungeon and I locked you in cages."

"It wasn't ideal." She chuckled. "But your intentions were friendly. Were they not?"

She saw the lump in his throat bobble. "They were."

She nodded gratefully. "There is so much more to you than this, angel. As your friend, I don't want to see you continue down this path. Nor do I want to see anyone else suffer."

"I am much further down that road than you understand."

"That doesn't mean it is too late to turn around."

He didn't respond, his body completely still. With one hand still clasped around hers, he abruptly turned and continued to lead her towards the back of the dungeon. Christine gazed up at him, his jaw clenched tightly and his eyes narrowed. Was he angry, hurt, or confused? What she wouldn't do to understand his thoughts.

A guard appeared at the end of the hall and unlocked a large barred door to another hallway. At the far end, Christine could just see the rusted bars of their new cages.

"Erik." The phantom said.

"Pardon?"

"My name is Erik."

She stared up at him. Erik. it seemed almost too fitting. She smiled.

"Thank you, Erik."

His name gracefully lept of her tongue. She wanted to say it a thousand times over. Yes, this man was Erik. Not her angel, not the phantom, nor the Angel of Death. He was Erik and she could learn to forgive him.

He nodded, releasing her hand and clasping his own behind his back. "I will fetch for you and your friends tomorrow. We will have much work to do."

"Of course. Thank you."

"Christine." He muttered. "Though I am grateful for your belief in me, I hope you realize it is completely misguided. I hope to be a better man, but that will never change the sins of my past. One day, I will atone for them, though no amount of suffering will ever fix what I have done. It is a non-negotiable reality of my situation and you would be wise to heed to it. Do you understand?"

Though she didn't want to, the seriousness of his tone made her consider it. What terrible things had he done? "I understand."

"Good. Until tomorrow."

"Until tomorrow, Erik."

She followed her new guard as he escorted her to her new cage. For just a moment, she glanced behind her, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. But just like the shadow he was, he had disappeared into the darkness.

Hope you guys are still enjoying this story! I will be submitting just once a week now as we are getting closer to my completed chapters than my liking. I know it is a slower build story, but I hope it feels more realistic. Thank you for all your support! I'd love some feedback.

Phantomgirl24: Forgiveness is a huge part of this story. I am trying to add undertones such as true bravery and the importance of forgiveness, something I really tried to hit in this chapter. I am glad you are seeing that! Thank you!

YinuoTong: Haha there will be lots more fluff from now on, so don't worry! Thank you!

Lucyole: They definitely have a lot to talk about, and Christine kind of put her foot down in this chapter saying she wants to continue that discussion. My goal is that the two of them will grow and change throughout this story so when you look at them from the beginning to end, you can see the difference. Thank you so much for your cookies for inspiration!