Chapter Two:  There's No Easy Way Out

Throughout the entire rehearsal, Christine kept glancing out into the auditorium for a sign that Raoul had agreed to meet with her, and halfway through, her glimpses were rewarded when the Vicomte took a seat in the front row.  From that moment, Christine relaxed and sang with a renewed air of confidence, sang over the new fluttering of butterflies inside her.  At least now she knew that the battle was half won.

The second rehearsal was over, Raoul bounded onto the stage and caught up with Christine.  "You wanted to see me?"  He asked with an icy formality.

"Yes, if you would just let me fetch my cloak?"

"Of course,"  he allowed, and within moments, they were outside the opera house and on their way to a café on the Place de la Concorde.

The uncomfortable silence remained until the waiter had served them their tea and left them.  "I assume there is a reason you wished to see me, Christine?"

"Yes, there was,"  Christine responded nervously, her hands creating pleats in her skirt.  "Raoul, I . . ."  she trailed off, the words not coming to her.  Finally, from the pocket of her skirt, she pulled out the ring she had hidden there that morning.  She took his hand in hers, and pressed the ring into his palm.  "Raoul, I want you to understand that I never meant to lead you on, and I surely never meant to hurt you.  And I felt you deserved to hear it from me and not from anyone else."

Raoul nodded his reluctant acceptance.  "May I ask a question, though?"

"Of course,"  she replied.

"If I had not written you that letter, would we still be having this conversation?"

Christine's eyes dropped to the cup of tea in front of her as she answered,  "Yes, we would Raoul."

"Do you love him?"

"Yes,"  she whispered.

"Does he love you?"

"Yes,"  she replied again.

"And are you happy?"

Christine looked up, and the truth shone from her eyes.  "Happy to be hurting you?  No, that I'm not happy about.  Happy to be with Erik?  Yes, that thought does make me happy."

"Even though by your own words he may be dying?"

"Yes,"  Christine replied.  "Whatever time is afforded us is by far better than never having this feeling at all."

Raoul nodded once again, and then stood from the table.  "Then I suppose you should be getting back to him soon."  He dropped some bills onto the table and had just passed her before he turned to her once more, even though she did not turn to face him.  "Christine, I love you,"  Raoul said simply, before turning once more toward the door.

'When you want it the most, there's no easy way out,'  Christine sighed as she watched Raoul walk past the window of the café.

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Erik was pacing the bank of the lake with a slip of paper held in his hand when she made her way down the Rue Scribe entrance.

Christine stopped in the shadows as she saw the black figure pacing up and down the shoreline of the lake, and knew he was agitated with her.  The very way he carried himself, his body language spoke of mortal danger.

Yet she was not afraid.  At least, not for her life, but afraid he would see this as a betrayal.  Afraid that in easing her own conscience, she had hurt him.

He stopped for a moment and leaned against the wall, and she silently slipped from the shadows and gently laid a hand on his shoulder.

That soft touch sent him spinning around to look her in the face, the anger barely controlled behind the mask.

"Please tell me you understand that I had to tell him to his face,"  she pleaded.  "You know that if it had been you in his position, that you would have wanted me to come to you and tell you in person."

The anger softened at her words as he saw the truth behind them, and recalled that he had been about to ask Christine to come back and give her answer, even if it was no.  He ducked his head briefly and looked down at her hands, and watched as they entwined with his own.

"You are right, I would have wanted to hear it from you, and not in a note.  I'm sorry."

Christine relaxed, and whispered,  "You have nothing to be sorry for.  You understand now, and that's all that matters."

"Did you see him?"

"Yes,"  she answered.

He waited, unable to ask the details.

She knew he wasn't going to make this easy for her, and sighed.  "We went to have a cup of tea on the Place de la Concorde, and I told him that I am in love with you.  He seemed resigned to the fact, asked me if I was sure, I told him I was, and then he left."

Erik nodded, and a bright light reached his eyes as he led her to the boat and in silence, rowed them across the lake.  Neither spoke again until they had entered the lair, when finally, Christine asked the question she had been worrying over since reading Raoul's note.

"Erik, you never told me you went to the de Chagny estate."

Erik whirled around, the cape flying in a circle as he turned,  "How did you know about that?"

Christine dropped her head for a moment, then raised it again to look him in the eye.  "Did he hurt you when he shot at you?"

Erik's eyes revealed amazement at her knowledge, and wonderment at the caring when she reached out to him as if she were inspecting him for pains.  "No,"  Erik rasped.

"Then he didn't hit you?"

"One of the balls grazed my shoulder, nothing more than a flesh wound I assure you."

Christine closed her eyes for a moment and drew in a ragged breath, realizing just how close she had been to losing him.

"How did you know?"  Erik asked again.

"Raoul,"  Christine answered simply, before deciding to elaborate.  "He had written me about it, and just before rehearsals started, Madame Giry delivered the note to me."

Erik's own eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he tried to quell the anger that particular meeting held for him before opening again to gaze upon Christine.

"You wouldn't have hurt him then,"  Christine whispered raggedly.

Erik turned from her then, afraid of the confrontation he was expecting.  "Am I that much of a monster that I don't understand a fair fight?  A gentleman is accorded acquittal in a duel, but a monster, a thing, is shot at from behind."

Christine shrunk instinctively for a moment at the tone his beautiful voice took.  Then, her own indignant anger rose to the surface.  "Monster is your word, not mine."

He turned to face her then, the anger and violence barely in check.  "Is that why you agreed to marry me, Christine?  Because you believed I would hurt your Vicomte?  If it is, it's not too late for you to change your mind and make a true marriage!"

The tears fell unbidden down Christine's face as his words stabbed at her heart.  She moved closer, knowing that if she did not soothe his anger soon that they might well say more things they regretted.  She stood before him, the resolve shining in her eyes as she reached up to the back of his head and undid the ties of the mask, allowing it to fall at their feet.

"I want to be able to see you when I say this,"  she said by way of explanation.  "I want you to know that I see you so that you understand that I mean what I say.  Erik, I agreed to marry you because I love you, not because I feared you might hurt Raoul.  You've had so little experience with love that you can't yet tell the difference between loving someone and being in love with someone.  There is a difference, Erik, a difference as plain as night is different from day,"  Christine paused, hoping that her next words would be understood.  "I love Raoul, but as a friend, as a girl might love a brother.  A very simple kind of love.  My love for you is different,"  she paused once more, trying to formulate the words in her mind, trying to explain something she was not sure she truly understood.  "The love I have for you is more like a fire that burns from the inside.  I love Raoul, but I am in love with you."

The anger that had burned in his eyes at the beginning of her speech dimmed, and he drew his hands to caress her face.  "You are right when you say I do not understand.  All I know is that I love you.  It's not something I've ever had before I met you, and certainly if I had, it was a feeling that could never be returned.  I've never had a brother or a sister, so I can not understand that kind of love.  Forgive me my anger, I know it comes much too quickly.  And it is not necessarily you I am angry with, Christine,"  Erik sighed and turned away from her once more before crying out,  "How I wish that I could forget all the anger and ugliness this world has ever shown me!"

Christine came up upon him from behind, and once more laid a soothing hand on his shoulder.  "Let me help you forget, Erik.  Let me show you it need not always be that way!"

Erik turned once more to face her plea, and was amazed as she stepped forward into his arms and kissed his naked face for the first time.  He lost himself then, and before long, their lips were as inexorably entwined as their hearts had always been.

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