Disclaimer: I am but a humble Phan.

Chapter 4 - Apologies, Realizations and a Massage

Slowly, firmly she began massaging his right hand, going over every muscle, bone, inch of his skin, careful not to miss anything. Working her hands up to his wrist and forearm, she could feel the tension melt away. Resting his head back on the chair and as if to affirm her suspicions, he exhaled a soft moan and she'd seen his eyes roll back into his head and his eyelids shut, blocking the incandescent emeralds from view by a curtain of thick, dark lashes.

It was now or never. The mood was set, a perfect time to apologize for her actions. At this moment, still unsure of what to say, she dove in hoping it would not go wrong so long as it came from her heart.

Quietly she called out his name, "Erik."

"Mmm?" Was his only response. She could tell he was engulfed by the flowing dance her hands were performing. His hands serving as the stage.

Christine began making amends, "I'm Sorry, about the other night. It was none of my business. You gave me your trust and I betrayed you, for that I implore your forgiveness from the bottom of my heart." There she had said it. Perhaps not as eloquent as she would have liked, but nonetheless it was done.

She had suspected by his cheerful demeanor, that he was just happy she had returned back to him willingly, choosing to forgive her shortcoming. Still she had this weighing on her mind and wanted to get it out in the open. No longer would there be secretes between them.

The tension quickly came back into his body, she could feel his muscles tighten under in her hands. Silently a single tear fell from the corner of his left eye, only to be matched a second later by one descending on his right jaw. The mask hiding the path it had taken to get there.

Without opening his eyes, he spoke, "Are you Christine? Or are you sorry for what you have seen? Sorry that the right side of my face does not reflect my left? I don't want your pity!" He spat out the word pity as if it were a foul invective.

"Erik that's not what I meant and you know it." The massage ceased, still sitting there holding his hand, watching as more tears cascaded from his long lashes. She certainly had not meant to dishearten him further. This was not going well. What could she say to make him understand?

"What of your Vicomte, Christine? Would you not rather be touching his hands, than these of a monster?" Now his eyes were wide open. His piercing eyes glowered at her. Sea green, and by the looks of it, just as cold.

Christine wanting to shiver at the view in those below freezing orbs as he regarded her. She almost did, instead choosing to deeply reflect over the words he had just spoken. What of Raoul? Would she rather be holding the hand of her childhood sweetheart? Or was that all it was? Something from childhood, from the past? It was obvious he was still interested in her after all these years by coming to her dressing room and asking her to diner. The question was did she still feel the same? Would his touch send thrilling currants of energy that made her come to life the way Erik's touch did? Wait, hadn't he hugged her? It seemed to be a cloudy and vague memory now. She could barely remember the feel of her in his arms. Were loving and warm? Would those limbs be attentive to her needs? Could she take up dominion there and reside forever in those well defined muscular arms that seemed built to encase her form perfectly. Did she feel secure, and protected when he enveloped her in his robust embrace? If it was that way she surely would have remembered it! Did she commit his scent to memory as well? What color eyes did he have? Blue maybe? If it was blue they were of a lighter shade. Why could she not remember? Christine had known Raoul for some time now. They had been best friends before she knew Meg. Yes, she hadn't seen him in a while, but couldn't she at least remember the color of his eyes?

Just now it was becoming known to Christine whom her heart belonged to. Would she have to courage to face these feelings herself? Could she reveal this newfound discovery to Erik? She knew along with the admission to how she truly felt, would also come the responsibility of being so much more to Erik than a mere friend. He would want more. He deserved more. Weighing her thoughts and words more carefully than she had ever done in her life, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Exhaling slowly she opened them and began to speak.