Disclaimer: The Phantom of the Opera, alas, is still not my property. In a perfect world, it would be, but this is not a perfect world, therefore I cannot claim to own the magnificent work(s).

Chapter 7

Explanations

Christine sipped her hot cocoa carefully, then grinned as she thought of the beverages the two men in her life were probably partaking of at that moment. She had cleverly planned to arrange a meeting of the two and then leave them to their own devices while she enjoyed a pleasant evening of shopping and dining with Meg. But what will be the outcome?

"Christine!" Meg raised her voice over the din of the café, jerking Christine out of her reverie.

"What? Oh," Christine placed her cup down on the table with a sigh. "I'm sorry Meg, I was just...thinking."

"About?" Meg raised her eyebrows with a knowing smile. "Perhaps the attentions of a certain Vicomte?"

"Something like that." Christine smiled guiltily.

"He's quite a catch, you know. Perfect for you."

"Is he?" Christine responded absently.

"Well yes!" Meg looked at her friend, concerned, noting her faraway gaze and lack of decision on such an important point. "Don't you think so?"

Christine looked at her, then laughed softly, "We were so young, Meg. Childhood romances are hardly trustworthy to build such strong attachments on into adulthood, considering we only met each other again a few weeks ago. We're different people now."

"Not so different."

Christine smiled, remembering Raoul's strong opposition to making mud-pies, playing in the rain, and other sorts of childhood play that would cause him to get dirty. "No, I suppose not."

"Are you uncertain of your love for him?"

What could she say? She could tell Meg anything, except this. She also hadn't told Meg who her tutor really was, so she couldn't really tell her about her little love triangle. No, it was best if she worked this out herself. Raoul should remain her suitor to the public eye until she figured things out.

She gave her friend a vague answer: "You've seen us together yourself, doesn't it look like I'm certain?" She smiled.

Meg smiled back, "Yes, it certainly does. Then have you quarreled? You seem so uncertain and withdrawn."

"No, of course not. I'm tired, that's all. Shall we return?"

"Yes, it's getting late."

The two stood, fastened their cloaks, and picked up their many bags as those who have been well practiced in balancing several packages at once. They parted ways as they reached the corridors of the opera house: Meg to the dormitories and Christine to her dressing room.

She set her many packages on the table and looked around. The room was empty, and exactly as she had left it; no bloodstains, no overturned chairs or tables, no scattered flowers, no broken mirrors, nothing. Her mirror was slightly ajar, however, so she opened it and walked down to the cellars of the opera house where Erik had made his abode.

"I had hoped that you would come." He said to her as she stepped out of the boat, without turning around from his piano.

"You left the mirror open."

"So I did." He continued to play his music. "Why did you leave me alone with the fop tonight, Christine?"

"I–"

"Don't even think about lying to me, you're in enough hot water as it is."

Christine shut her mouth. "I thought you two needed some time to work some things out." She said finally.

Erik grinned as he recalled his success. He had heard from Raoul's own lips his true intentions. "But you lied to me." There was no trace of humor in his voice; he still took her lying habit very seriously.

"I'm sorry, Erik."

"Oh, you're sorry." Erik stopped playing and turned to face her. "Always you're sorry, and always you lie again and again and again!" He stood and walked towards her. "How much longer, Christine? I've given you my music, I've trained you well, and yet you take without giving back. All I receive in return is more lies and more pain."

"What would you have me give?"

"You know what I would have from you, Christine." He placed his hand on her cheek gently. "I want you to return my feelings towards you." He whispered.

" Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime,

lead me, save me from my solitude.

Say you want me with you here, beside you.

Anywhere you go let me go too.

Christine, that's all I ask of you."

"All?" She whispered. "Just my love? As if that's an easy thing to give."

He withdrew his hand and looked at her a long time before he turned away, "It would be if it existed."

She sighed, "Erik, I left you alone with Raoul tonight so that you two could figure out what I couldn't."

"And that would be?"

"Where my love belongs."

Erik laughed, a short, harsh laugh, "I think that if you don't know that, Christine, no one does."

"I had hoped that one of you would prove his love by fighting the other off, or just talk it over, which I had hardly considered an option considering your hatred for one another."

Erik laughed again, scornfully. "Is it assuming too much to say that you want neither of us dead?"

"Well, not really. In truth, Erik, I wouldn't mind as much if Raoul was dead, I just had somewhat hoped that it wouldn't come to that."

"So...you don't love him?"

Christine hesitated. "Let's walk together, like we used to." She said finally.

He looked at her for a moment, then nodded in assent and offered her his arm.

"He doesn't love you, Christine." He said softly after a few minutes of silence.

She looked at him, "How do you know?"

"He told me."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, it's true. Raoul doesn't love you, he admitted this to me once he was drunk enough."

"You got him drunk?"

Erik smiled, "Well, that may be stating it mildly. You could tell that he had had nothing but light liquors all his life, Vodka was quite a shock."

Christine laughed, a beautiful sound that made his heart jump.

He smiled, "Anyway, he said that the only reason he was courting you was to steal you from me; he's apparently quite jealous of me, of my talents, I suppose. He's very attracted to Meg, however."

"Meg?"

Erik nodded. "I...I hope I haven't upset you," He told her after a few moments. That was the last thing he had intended to do.

"No." Christine shook her head solemnly, "No, Erik, I'm glad you told me." Her eyes strayed to a large cabinet to her left, covered by a curtain. "What's this?"

Erik took a deep breath as her hand reached for the cord and pulled back the curtains.

An amazingly accurate replica of her was inside, complete with a bride's veil and dress.

Christine screamed wildly, causing Erik to scream, not only from the shock of her scream but from the pounding it instigated in his forehead. He hastily removed his hand from it to catch her gallantly as she jumped into his arms.

"What is that?" She pointed her finger wildly at her head staring back at her.

"Ah..." He searched for words to explain.

"Erik?"

"I...made some preparations."

"You have more spare time than I thought."

"Well, I work on it when I can." He took a deep breath and steadied himself, "You see, I really do love you, Christine..I want you to be my wife. I stare at this often...I've done my best to preserve your likeness this way, even if you never come to love me in return."

She slowly stepped down from his arms and stared at her likeness before closing the curtains again. "I had no idea." She said softly.

"No, of course not."

They walked again in silence.

"Erik?" Christine said after a few more minutes of silence.

"Yes?"

"Can you forgive me, for lying to you this evening?"

"I do every time, Christine."