Author's Note: Chapter was ready a day early so here you guys go! Enjoy! I apologize that it is so dialogue heavy, but at least I'm somewhat okay at writing good dialogue (at least that is what I'm telling myself).

Chapter 14-Retreat

Two long weeks had passed since Christine had discovered that Philippe was searching for her in Lyon and the thought of him finding the cottage was finally fading from her mind. She was hopeful that he had moved on as two weeks was plenty of time to search a city and not many people in the city knew her name or where she was residing. After the initial shock of seeing him wore off, she realized that if he did come for her, then Erik would do anything he could to protect her. He had promised not to act on instinct and murder Philippe, but a dark part of her wanted to allow it, though she could never admit that to Erik. What would he think of her if she asked him to do the very thing she had made him promise to never do again?

The thrumming of the piano soothed her mind as she placed breakfast on the small table in the kitchen. With Erik's help, she had become quite acquainted with working herself around the kitchen and had taken over making the meals almost entirely. The tea kettle started whistling, pulling her attention back to the stove and just as she was reaching for the handle, the sound of approaching hoofbeats alerted her to the window.

Images of Philippe filled her mind and a pain flashed in her chest. With a deep breath, she slowly moved over to the small window above the sink which faced out towards the front garden and she felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach.

Two very well dressed men were dismounting their horses and tying them to the freshly repaired fence. Horror burned through Christine's veins and she hardly had enough strength to pull her eyes from the men, but she knew if she didn't, there was a chance they would see her. She immediately dropped to the floor and pressed her back against the cabinets, tears pricking in her eyes as she spoke a silent prayer for both her safety and Erik's.

Erik, she needed Erik!

She scrambled to her feet and slunk into the parlor, being sure to avoid any windows and thankful that she had yet to draw open the curtains of the large window that faced the front garden.

Erik was composing at the piano, pen in one hand scribbling on parchment, the other dancing on the keys. The sight would usually excite her but with the urgency of the situation, she had no time to think of such matters. He must have heard her because as she approached, he turned towards her with a delighted expression, though as his eyes connected with hers, bemusement took over.

"Are you alright? Did you burn yourself again?" he asked softly, taking her by one of her arms and pulling her onto the bench next to him. He took both of her hands and turned them over in his, examining her palms where she had burned herself the last time.

Christine shook her head quickly and spoke in a hushed whisper, "No, Philippe is here! I saw him outside, he has a man with him!"

Just then, a loud knock resounded through the parlor and Erik let out a low angry growl, turning to face towards the door. If looks could kill, Christine was certain the men on the other side would be laid out on the ground.

She buried her face into his chest and tried her best not to cry, she couldn't be weak, "Please, don't let them take me."

"Damn that fool, it's been weeks, how is he still here?" Erik hissed under his breath, wrapping his arms around her. "He will not take you. We will ignore them and they will leave."

Another harsher knock sounded and he cursed under his breath, pulling her closer. The only thing keeping her defenses in place was Erik. The sound of his heart pounding wildly, the softness of the hair on his chest against her cheek, and the scent of sweet roses that filled her nostrils. She was certain that if he let go of her, she would break down into a sobbing mess.

When another knock broke the silence, Erik grumbled and lifted her from the piano bench, standing her up on the floor. He pulled her face up to his, commanding her attention, "Christine, I need you to go upstairs, lock yourself in your room and do not come out until I come to you."

"No! I will not leave you, what if something happens to you?" she cried, twisting her hands into the front of his shirt. She couldn't let him face them alone, she couldn't lose Erik to the man she was most terrified of. She had seen Erik best Raoul, but she had never seen Philippe in combat. Besides, Philippe also had another man with him, surely Erik couldn't defend himself against both men while being unarmed.

Erik took her hands in his and kissed them as another knock sounded, "Do as I say, please, my love. You cannot be here if things were to escalate."

"No, I will not allow you to do this on your own," she pressed, "You will not talk me out of this. I am not leaving you."

He groaned and nodded his head, "Fine, but stay behind the door and be quiet. I will not allow them inside," he crossed to the console table and picked up his mask and wig, Christine was close on his trail, "It was just one other man, correct?"

A fifth knock made Christine yelp and she quickly clasped her hand over her mouth, nodding to answer Erik's question. He looked at her with agonizing defeat and pulled on his mask and wig, shifting them so they were perfectly in place. Then, very quickly, he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck, the cold porcelain making her shiver.

"They will not harm you, and I do hope you are not opposed to the possibility that I may have to defend us and I may have no control over the outcome," he whispered in her ear, pressing a light kiss under her jaw.

"If it means we are safe, then so be it," she assured him, and she meant it. There was hardly any opposition to seeing Philippe dead, though she only worried about what Erik would think of himself afterwards.

He released her and placed a light kiss on her lips, then moved to the door, gesturing for her to stand where he was pointing. He reached behind the coat he kept hung on a hook and produced a length of rope that looked to be tied into a lasso, one that she had no idea he kept in such a place. Though, she was unable to find a shred of anger as the lasso was Erik's only defense and she knew that he was well capable of using it with expertise.

Christine had to admit that seeing Erik with the lasso vanquished some, if not all, of her fear. She had seen him use it. He had told her tales of facing down numerous armed men with just a simple length of rope much the same as what he held in his hand. The relief of knowing Erik had meant it when he said she was completely safe with him calmed the fire in her veins.

With the lasso in his right hand, he glanced over at her almost apologetically and gave her a small smile before looking down at the lasso. Then, he took a hold of the door handle and slowly cracked it open. Christine was certain that anyone standing on the other side would only see the unmasked portion of his face.

Philippe spoke first, his voice leaking through the door and penetrating Christine's soul like a shard of glass, "Good morning, monsieur. We apologize for our persistence, but we have traveled quite a long way in search of a young lady by the name of Christine Daae–"

"I have no knowledge of anyone by that name, I live here alone," Erik interrupted, his voice was like icy daggers and it made Christine shudder. She hadn't heard him speak in such a way since before leaving the Opera Populaire.

There was a deep huffing noise, then the clearing of a throat, "Alone you say? I have heard differently according to a few townsfolk. Perhaps, if I had a look around–" there was scuffling of feet and Erik tightened his hold on the lasso. Christine could only presume that Philippe had attempted to move forward to make an entrance.

"They are mistaken," Erik mumbled.

A sharp dramatic exhale sounded, "I was told you live here with a young woman who matches the description of Christine Daae. She is in an immense amount of danger. I am willing to pay–"

"I don't need your money, do I look like a beggar to you?" Erik hissed, his knuckles turning white around the rope.

"Well–I–no, you don't. I meant no offense, monsieur. We are only here for the girl, now, if we could–" Philippe spoke nervously. A smile spread on Christine's face at the thought of him being intimidated by Erik.

"There is no girl here," Erik urged.

Another exhale of breath was heard, "One of the bakers told me of a woman–"

"I used to have a wife, but I have been widowed for quite some time," Erik insisted. There was a sad tinge to his voice and Christine couldn't help but assume he was attempting to make himself sound more believable.

"How long has it been since your wife passed?" Philippe pressed, his voice was low, calculating.

Erik let out a sad sigh as if trying to keep up with his façade, "Several years, it pains me to think of her, so I don't wish to speak on it any longer."

"I understand, though I do have to ask, did the white mare at stables belong to your wife? Did she ride her often?" Philippe spoke slowly, almost as if he was choosing his words carefully.

"Yes," was all Erik said, his hand tightening on his lasso once again.

Philippe chuckled, "That mare is only two years old, monsieur. If you have been widowed for several years, then how would it belong to your wife?"

Erik took a deep breath, "I purchased her years ago, she is far older than two years."

"I am a breeder, I know the age of any horse just by looking at them. She is barely into her third year," Philippe countered.

Christine's heart dropped and she did her best to suppress a shuddering breath. Philippe had caught Erik in a lie.

Erik tensed, "If you have no other questions, I would like you to leave. There is no girl here, it would be wise of you to remember that, monsieur."

"Of course, my apologies, thank you for your time," Philippe stated with a shaky voice.

Erik bowed his head slightly, "Have a safe ride."

The door remained cracked open until she heard receding hoofbeats, then Erik slowly closed it and slid the lock in place. He turned towards her with darkened eyes and dropped the lasso, taking her in his arms.

Christine pulled back slightly and removed his mask and wig, reaching back and setting them down on the table behind her, then she pulled his face into her neck.

"We need to leave. Go pack your things, we will be gone within the hour," he whispered, placing a kiss on her collarbone.

"I figured as much," she solemnly replied.

Erik pulled from her and looked at her with serious eyes, "They will be back after nightfall. I heard the words myself. I am quite out of practice with producing quick witted lies. I have to give it to the little bastard, he got me with the mare."

Christine nodded and let tears fall from her eyes, "I'll gather my things as quickly as I can."

Defeat washed over her as she released herself from Erik and slowly walked to the stairs. She kept her head down as her tears fell over her cheeks and once again prayed for safety. She had been a fool for letting herself truly believe Philippe had left to search for her elsewhere. It was just her luck that he decided to stay in the city until he found the few people who knew of her existence and that she lived with Erik in the cottage.

Just as she reached the first step, a strong hand wrapped around her wrist and she was pushed against the wall. Hot and heavy breaths flooded her face and she looked up to see Erik staring at her with his own tears in his eyes. She didn't want him to cry so she reached up to caress his face in hopes of soothing him.

"Christine, I know you are frightened, but I will not let you be harmed," he whispered as his eyes darted around her face, "All I need is for you to keep trusting me. Please, don't cry."

With a soft nod, she tilted her face to his and placed a light kiss on his lips, "I don't even know if I'm frightened anymore. Seeing you with–with your lasso–I know you will keep me safe. I am only sad that we have to leave, I have grown rather fond of this place."

"I have as well," he whispered, pulling her against him, "We will have a new home soon, though I regret to inform you that we will be spending some time below the opera house after all. I haven't had any luck finding a new home for us yet."

Christine smiled against his chest, "It's alright, I've always imagined what it would be like to spend more than one night down there with you."

Erik laughed, "Off to Paris, then. Pack as much as you can, Cesar can carry more than he looks capable of."

She gave a light nod, then pulled away from him and made her way up the stairs to her room. While she packed, she thought of how strange it was going to be to be back at the very place she had made the worst decision of her life and wondered if it would even be inhabitable after being neglected for so many months.

xXx

The ride to Paris lasted an entire week and as Christine rode into the city with Erik by her side, night fell over them. She was glad that they hadn't arrived during the daytime so they could avoid traversing the streets with the gawking faces of strangers. The alleyways Erik led her down were even darker than the main streets and the realization that they were not heading towards the Opera Populaire hit her as they crossed streets that she knew would lead them in the wrong direction.

For hours she had been imagining what her and Erik would do when they arrived at the opera house and she would not wait any longer than she needed to and his clear lack of direction was keeping her from satisfying those needs. It had been three days since he touched her, as they hadn't stopped at any inns to rest during that time and she refused to allow him to prolong her pain any longer.

She turned to Erik who rode Cesar directly next to her, "Where are we going? The opera house is back that way."

He looked straight ahead and chuckled, "I told you, my love. We are going to visit a friend of mine. I will leave you with her for a short time so I can be sure there are no unwanted guests waiting for us."

Christine felt a tinge of jealousy course through her and had to look away to hide her blush under her hood, "A friend? How do you know her?"

"She–she helped me a–after–" he stuttered, then he stopped and she knew what he meant.

The woman had helped him after Christine had abandoned him. Pain spread through her chest and she felt the threat of tears but she blinked them away, "What is her name?"

"Her name is Claire, she works at–" he paused again and she saw him look over at her from the corner of her eye, "She lives in a brothel."

Anger bubbled inside Christine, a rare emotion that she hardly ever felt, and she pulled Beauty to a stop. He was taking her to a brothel? To be with his friend who works–no, lives there?

"A brothel?" she quietly hissed, trying to keep her voice low as he had told her to do as they entered the city.

Erik stopped Cesar and nodded, avoiding her eyes, "Yes, I–"

"No, Erik. I will not step foot inside a brothel and I will not stay with a woman who works there that you know personally," she interrupted, letting the last word come out with more venom than she intended.

He looked down at his hands and she could see he was struggling to find words, perhaps questioning his sanity for putting her in such a situation. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but she had enough and her patience was all but worn out. She urged Beauty to turn around and decided she would find her own way to the Opera Populaire.

How could she be so foolish? Erik had lied to her. He had been with another woman and she foolishly chose to believe him when he said otherwise. God, why did she always have to be so naïve? She should have seen it by how well he made love to her during their first time together.

After a few seconds, she heard hoofbeats alongside her, but she refused to look over at him, she couldn't look at the face of a liar. Her eyes were trained on the end of the alley which broke out onto a main street where she would then find her way to the opera house without him.

"Christine, please, you have to understand–" he started, there was a tinge of regret in his voice.

She took a deep breath, "No, I will not understand anything, now leave me alone. You lied to me. Saying you had never slept with a woman and now you are dragging me to meet some–some prostitute you had a fling with!" she cried, failing to keep her voice low.

Erik rode ahead of her and blocked the narrow alleyway, "It's not like that, my love–"

Christine glowered at him, "Don't you dare call me 'my love'. If you had been honest, I wouldn't have cared that you slept with her before me. You could have had the decency to not lie to my face seconds before fucking me!"

She surprised herself with the use of such foul language, but she didn't care. She was furious.

His jaw clenched and he jumped down from Cesar before walking over to Beauty, "Get down, now."

"No," she argued, looking away from him and towards the other wall in the alleyway.

She heard a huff and then hands were around her waist, pulling her from her saddle. Her resistance was futile and her feet were on the ground in mere seconds then she was pushed against the stonewall of the alleyway. Erik's hot breath was on her face and she did her best to avoid his eyes.

"I did not lie to you, I decided to stop doing so that night on the balcony," he whispered, the tone of his voice insistent yet caring, "You were my first everything, Christine. Nothing happened between Claire and me."

"How do I know you aren't lying to me right now? How do I know you aren't just saying what I want to hear?" she asked, pressing her hands to the cold wall.

With a heavy exhale, he released her and backed away, one of his hands running over his wig as he cursed under his breath. She watched him as he squeezed his eyes shut and moved his lips silently. Was he coming up with more lies? He was rather quick witted as he had said just a week before.

"I am going to the opera house, do what you must. But, if you go to her, I never want to see you again," the words left her mouth quickly and she instantly regretted them. Never in her life had she spoken to someone in such a way, nor was she so quick to anger, but he had lied to her and he had broken his promise to never do so again.

She moved back to Beauty and placed her foot in the stirrup, intent on putting as much distance between her and Erik as possible. She needed to be away from him, to clear her mind and find it in herself to forgive him for betraying her in such a way. But before she could lift herself from the ground, arms were around her waist and Erik's face was pressed into her back.

"You can't mean it, please, Christine. Please believe me," he begged, his words muffled in her cloak, "Don't leave me, I–I promise, I promise nothing happened between us! You have to believe me."

Guilt washed over her and she started doubting herself. Had she been wrong to assume the worst? She couldn't bear listening to Erik's sobs and pleas for forgiveness, it was too painful.

Christine sighed and removed her foot from the stirrup, "Look me in the eyes and promise me."

Erik removed his arms from around her and turned her to face him. His tear filled eyes bore into hers just as she had asked, "Christine, my love, I promise you that I had never been with another woman before you. You are the only woman I have ever loved, the only one who has ever had me."

His eyes didn't waver and he didn't once drop his gaze; he was telling the truth. Silent curses filled her mind and she swallowed hard, "I'm sorry for how I reacted, I don't know what came over me. I'm not usually so quick to anger," she paused and took his hands in hers, "I believe you."

The heat of a relieved sigh blew across her face and Erik smiled, "Oh, god, thank you. I should have told you about her."

"It's alright, I just–I felt jealous of her," she whispered, a flash of heat crossing her face.

Erik arched his exposed brow and smiled, "My Christine, jealous?"

She slapped his chest with the palm of her hand, "Don't you dare patronize me! It is a completely normal feeling when one learns their fiancé is personal friends with a brothel worker."

He chuckled and wiped away the tears that were drying on his cheek, "I suppose I could have explained the situation better."

Christine nodded in agreement and turned back towards Beauty, "Should we go meet this Claire? The sooner we do, the sooner we can be together again. I need you badly, it's all I've been thinking of for the past several hours."

"Even after everything that just–" he paused and chuckled, mumbling something she couldn't decipher under his breath, "Yes, my love, let's be quick about it."

Erik lifted her onto Beauty, then mounted Cesar and led her down several alleyways, each one smelled terribly of rot and mold but she was used to the ghastly smells of Paris. Soon, they came upon a small stable where they stopped and tied up the horses.

Christine was led through a narrow door by the stable and was hit with a smell of cigarettes which made her eyes water. She stood in a large room filled with chairs, tables, and couches, each piece of furniture having various women strewn upon them in lewd poses. Most of the women perked up as she entered with Erik directly behind her. Hushed whispers and giggles filled the room and Christine felt fire engulf her entire body. She could only imagine how her and Erik looked walking hand in hand into a brothel to meet a specific woman. She lowered her gaze to the floor out of shame and reminded herself that she was only there for her safety.

It's only a couple hours, you can do this, she assured herself as she tightened her hold on Erik's hand. She peeked up at him and saw him glance down at her quickly before leading her further into the room and to a bar where a plump elderly woman stood expectantly.

Christine let her gaze wander to the women again, her eyes falling on each of their faces, wondering which one was Claire. Which one she would be left with for the next two hours, which one Erik knew personally.

"Madame Bassett, good to see you again," Erik spoke, his voice pulling Christine's attention from the women.

The elderly woman was staring at Christine and she couldn't help but feel slightly uneasy being in a room with such beautiful women while she herself was average during her best days. Her appearance was surely atrocious as Madame Bassett roved her eyes over her body with a sly smile on her face.

"Monsieur Destler, it had been quite some time," Madame Bassett replied, her eyes flickering to Erik, "Have you come to offer up this one," she gestured to Christine, "in exchange for room and board?"

Erik pulled Christine tightly against him, "My fiancé and I are in need of a place for her to stay just for an hour or so. Is Claire available, Madame?"

The old woman groaned and narrowed her eyes, "Claire is occupied at the moment, a gentleman just took her upstairs. Perhaps, given how generous you have–"

"One thousand francs should be enough, correct?" he offered, slapping a wad of notes on the bar top.

Christine's eyes widened at the offer but Madame Bassett quickly snatched the money and thumbed through it before turning towards a woman who sat at the end of the bar, "Go tell Claire she has a visitor and take care of the gentleman upstairs. Tell him it's on-the-house."

The petite blond girl nodded and ran up the stairs, disappearing from sight. Christine couldn't take her eyes off the stairs, she was entranced by the thought of what Claire looked like. The mystery behind the woman that Erik held so much trust in was eating at her mind and she couldn't help the bit of jealousy that returned.

"Would you like to sit?" Erik asked.

She pulled her eyes from the stairs and looked down at the stools in front of her, wondering how many women had sat in them, "No, I am fine. Thank you."

He sighed and shifted against her, his arm tightening around at her waist as he mumbled under his breath. It had hardly been a minute and he was already growing impatient. She turned her face up to him and ran her hand along the arm he held at his side to bring his attention to her. He looked down at her and gave a nervous smile, taking up her hand and placing a light kiss on her knuckles.

"It had better not be that ratbag from last night! I swear, if he is back, I will do much worse than–Oh, Erik! I didn't expect to ever see you again!" a high pitched voice exclaimed from the stairs.

Christine turned towards the source and saw one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen staring at Erik. Then the piercing bright green eyes were on Christine and she couldn't help but look away out of embarrassment and bury her face in Erik's chest. It was Claire, she knew it. It was the woman who had helped Erik during one of his darkest moments. Christine felt inferior, felt ashamed to be in her presence.

"Claire, I trust you have been well," Erik replied as he shifted towards the stairs and Christine followed, having no choice as she clung to his side as if she were a leech.

Footsteps approached them and Christine mustered all of the courage she could and lifted her face from Erik's chest to see the woman standing directly in front of them, her hands clasped in front of her as she looked between them, "Who is this?"

Erik peeled Christine's arms from around him and moved her to fully face the woman, "This is my fiancé, Christine. Christine, this is Claire, the friend I told you of."

Christine's face blanched and she spoke meekly, "It's nice to meet you."

God, she was so pitiful the way she spoke. Her clear inferiority to the pure goddess of a woman that stood before her was so harrowing that it was hard to think of anything else. It made her nauseous and she wanted to run away and hide in the darkest alleyway she could find.

Claire stared at Christine with wonderment, then her eyes widened, "Christine Daae! Oh, it's so good to finally meet you. I have–" she paused and cocked her head, as if pondering something in her mind, then she slowly looked up at Erik. Her face turned in disgust, "You! Outside now!"

"That is hardly necessary, I only–" Erik argued.

"You lied to me!" she screeched, drawing the attention of all the women who lounged in the room, including Madame Bassett.

"Do we have a problem here, Claire?" the old woman narrowed her eyes and gave her a stern look, "Take your guests upstairs, they paid good money for you."

Claire quickly shook her head and looked at the floor in a yielding manner, "Not at all, Madame. I will accommodate them immediately," she glared up at Erik, "This way, monsieur."

Erik nudged Christine along and they followed Claire up the stairs and down a long hallway. The loud theatrical moans and whining creaks from what she could only assume were the beds sent a chill up Christine's spine.

At the end of the hallway, Claire opened a door to a room with a large bed and two chairs facing a burning fireplace. Erik stepped inside first, pulling Christine along with him. She looked around, silently wondering how many men had been attended to in the room.

Without warning, she was yanked out of Erik's grasp by Claire, who shielded her behind herself, "Are you going to tell me what you are doing with her?"

Christine looked around wildly until her eyes landed on Erik who stood calmly by the door, almost as if he was expecting such a reaction.

"Claire, I know what you are thinking and I regret to inform you that the assumption is correct, but, please, can I have my fiancé ba–" Erik started.

"The Opera Ghost! I knew it! I had my suspicions the day I told you I was going to the engagement party," Claire tightened her grip on Christine's wrist, "There was no fire and there was no wife! How could you tell such disgusting lies?"

The engagement party? It was no wonder that she had recognized Christine. But what of a fire and a wife?

"Yes, I lied to you. Anyone in my position would have done the same!" he hissed in a low voice, "Now, please, release her."

Claire shook her head rapidly and backed up to the wall, pushing Christine against the hard wooden surface, "I have heard of what he–what you have done. You cannot have her."

Erik let out a frustrated groan, "What happened to your talk of forgiveness? Of atonement? A lot has happened during my absence. You can at least listen to what both Christine and I have to say before assuming the worst."

"But–but, you raped her since she was a child, you murdered the little ballet girls who were rejected from the corp. You ate them!" Claire choked out before she began crying.

Christine noticed Erik's jaw clench tightly and his blazing eyes connected with hers before flicking back to the now sobbing Claire, and spoke coldly, "Do not speak to me of rape, mademoiselle, and I hardly had the appetite for the flesh of–"

"Claire?" Christine interrupted, having had enough of the bickering between the two people before her.

The woman glanced back at her with wide tear filled eyes, "Should I call for help?"

Christine glanced up at Erik and saw him glowering at Claire before stalking forward, but before he could reach them, Christine held up her hand, "Erik, no! Stay put and do not speak. You are not helping the situation. Remember, this was your idea."

Claire whimpered and turned to cling to Christine, "What was his idea? Oh, God, is he going to kill me?"

"Claire, I am not–" Erik started but abruptly stopped, looking down at the floor and furrowing his brows.

God, what was Christine to do? This woman who she had felt so inferior to was clinging to her as if she was her sole protector. She had to think of a solution before the situation flew out of control.

With a defeated sigh, Christine peeled Claire's arms from around her and grabbed her by the shoulders, steadying the trembling woman, "Claire, Erik doesn't mean either of us any harm. He is my fiancé and I love him. We are hoping that I can stay here with you for just a couple of hours while he attends to a few errands. I will explain everything while he is gone, do we have an agreement?"

The woman was breathing heavily and glancing rapidly around Christine's face before letting out one deep shuddering breath, "Alright–yes, I think I need to sit down."

Christine nodded and helped Claire sit on the edge of the bed before walking over to where Erik stood stiffly, "Be quick, I will be here, my love."

He tore his eyes from the trembling woman on the bed and looked down at Christine, "What if she alerts the authorities to you?"

"Don't worry about me, I promise, if anything happens, I will take Beauty and meet you at home," she whispered, running her hands down his sides, "Be safe, I love you."

"As I love you," he breathed, stooping to place a light kiss on her cheek before turning his attention to Claire. He gave a sorrowful glance then ducked out the door.

Christine listened as his footsteps retreated, then moved to sit next to Claire on the bed. She had thankfully stopped crying and was taking deep breaths as her lips moved silently.

"Are you praying?" Christine asked, moving her hand to settle on Claire's joined hands which rested in her lap.

She opened her eyes and nodded solemnly, "Yes, though my prayers are never heard. I sometimes doubt the existence of a God."

Christine smiled softly, "I felt the same for many years. I prayed in the chapel of the opera house every night and my prayers were never heard. Though, these past few months with Erik have given me hope."

"How so?" Claire asked, wiping her dried tears from her cheeks and staring up at Christine with curiosity.

"After I was told Erik was dead, I prayed for him, for God to forgive him for his sins and grant him safe passage to Heaven. I also asked God to give an angel the strength and courage to show him what it truly meant to be loved," Christine whispered, taking Claire's hand in hers, "Now, I know I'm not an angel, but part of me believes that God answered my prayer and granted me the courage to show him love. That's why I stayed with him after–" she paused and wondered how much of the truth was necessary.

"After what?" Claire pushed, her eyes wide with worry.

Would it hurt to tell her the truth? To tell her of how she came to fall in love with Erik? No, no more lies. Claire deserved the truth after everything she had done to help Erik.

"During my engagement party, I decided I no longer wanted to marry the Vicomte and retired early. I was on the balcony when Erik came to me and I thought he was a ghost," Christine paused and laughed at the memory, "He stole me away and took me to a cottage he owned. He was so respectful, so kind, so different from the man I knew at the opera house. After a few months and way too many gifts, I realized I love him."

Claire stared at her with shock, "He kidnapped you that night?"

"No, he saved me. Without him, I would still be in Hell and in an unhappy marriage," Christine looked away from Claire and tried to push Raoul and Philippe from her mind.

"Did you not want to be a Vicomtesse?" Claire asked.

"Not when the title would come with two men who knew little of consent," Christine whispered, feeling a jabbing pain in her heart and the threat of tears which she quickly wiped away.

Claire gasped and hugged Christine, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to press."

Christine shook her head, "It's alright, I am safer with Erik than any other man. He is truly a gift from God."

"Will you tell me how you met him? Of your time at the Opera Populaire? I'm afraid I only know of the tale through word of mouth and I worry I may have been a bit harsh with Erik," Claire said, letting out a heavy sigh.

Christine nodded, "It does seem the rumors have gotten out of hand, but I am glad to tell you anything you desire to know."

"Yes, please," Claire urged, sitting straight up on the bed as if showing her attentiveness.

The sight nearly made Christine giggle and she felt a rush of relief as she realized she felt a strange sense of comfort around the woman who had brought on so much jealousy before.

"Alright, I will start from the beginning then," Christine said, adjusting on the bed to face Claire, "When I was young, my father died and I went to stay at the Opera Populaire. Erik came to me in the chapel as I was praying and claimed to be the Angel of Music. He trained my voice, taught me everything I know and then one night, I starred in a production. It was wonderful, everything I had ever dreamed of and it was only possible because of Erik's guidance.

"That same night, I learned he was a man. An incredibly terrifying, yet mesmerizing man. He led me to his home and sang the most enchanting song then–" Christine paused and blinked back tears at the memory, "I betrayed him. I removed his mask out of curiosity and the thought that it was a complete violation of his privacy didn't even cross my mind until he became angry with me."

"Why does he wear the mask?" Claire interrupted, "He told me he was burned in a fire, though I hardly think that's the case anymore."

"He was born with a deformed face, that's why he wears the mask. Most everyone shuns him due to his face, that's why he didn't reveal himself to me when we met. He was worried that I would reject him," Christine whispered, hoping she wasn't saying anything Erik wouldn't approve of, "Don't mention his mask, please. He hates when people ask."

Claire nodded, "Of course," then she looked down at her hands, "Have you–have you seen his face?"

"Yes, every day since he stole me away from the engagement party," Christine answered, a smile forming on her lips, "I am very lucky to have such a handsome fiancé."

"So, he didn't eat children?" Claire asked, a smile on her lips as well.

Christine laughed, "No, I am pleased to say that he has never eaten a child."

"I trust you," Claire joined in her laughter, "Now, what happened after he took you to his home?"

"Well, it all happened very fast but to make it simple, Erik was jealous of Raoul," it hurt saying his name and Christine swallowed the lump that formed in her throat, "They fought for me, violently, and in the end, I chose to stay with Erik and I–I kissed him. Oh, and it was wonderful. It was like–it was like–"

"A kiss from a fairytale," Claire finished, her face softening with wonder.

Christine nodded in agreement, "Yes, exactly like that."

"What happened after you kissed him?" Claire asked urgently.

"He–he sent me away and I left," Christine looked down and furrowed her brows, begging herself not to cry, "I should have stayed, I regret it every day."

Claire moved to wrap her arms around Christine, "It's alright, you were scared, you had every right to do what you did."

Christine took a deep breath to calm herself, "Yes, I did, but it still didn't feel like the correct choice. I am very lucky that Erik came to find me. I don't know where I would be without him."

Arms wrapped tighter around her, "It seems I owe Erik an apology for my behavior."

"I'm sure he would like to know you aren't mad at him anymore," Christine concurred.

Claire nodded, "Yes, I agree," she released Christine from her arms, "Would you like some tea while we wait?"

"I would love some tea, thank you," Christine replied, silently thanking God for granting her a new friend and hoping that Erik was safe in the city alone.

/

Author's Note: Erik is both dramatic and stupid. Gotta love a man who doesn't think things through. Anyways, question, if anyone feels so inclined to answer!

Just curious, but do you guys like Erik or Christine's third person POV better? I've been wondering if I write better for one or the other.

Any who, thanks for reading and I appreciate each and every one of you.

Much love,
MadameDestler