A/N: Okay, there are a couple things I thought I'd clear up before anybody asked. Christine refers to Erik as the Phantom because she does not know his name, but Madame Giry does, so she calls him Erik. And speaking of Mdme Giry, I wanted to give her a decidedly girly name just for fun. I hope anybody reading this is enjoying it :o) BTW: I forgot to mention this in the other chapters, but obviously, I don't own anything to do with The Phantom of the Opera. Wish I did, but I don't. So there, now you know.
Despite Raouls sudden outburst of anger, Christine answered calmly. "Yes. And no." "And what exactly does that mean?" he demanded.
"Raoul, please try to understand…all you ever saw and knew was the murderer, the madness. I spent years with an Angel. The reality of the Phantom and all that happened was, and still is, a shock." She said, still strangely calm.
"So where does that leave us? Christine, I love you." Raoul said.
Christine took his hand and put both of hers over it. "No, Raoul. You love Little Lotte…and I'm no longer that girl." She said.
"You're trying to tell me that you don't love me, aren't you?" he asked, not entirely sure if he really wanted to hear her answer.
"No, I'm trying to tell you that I love you too much to marry you. You deserve more than a shell of a woman." Christine said, squeezing his hand.
Raoul was quiet for a long time. Then he said, in a low, quiet voice:However long you need, whatever space you need…take it. I'll always be here for you, but I won't force you to do anything."
Christine was stuck again by the difference between the two men who loved her. One loved her enough to let her go…the other loved her so much that he couldn't let her go.
She kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you Raoul." She said simply. He nodded and offered her his arm. Together they set off for the house, Christine feeling somewhat less confused.
Erik moaned in agony. It seemed there wasn't a part of his body that didn't ache. "Shh, Erik, it's okay. Just lay still" came the calm, authoritative voice of Madame Giry.
He simply nodded. Had it not been for her, he would probably be dead, as the mob that had beaten him thought they had left him.
Erik reached up and felt the coolness of his mask and relaxed. It was the mask that Little Meg had found in his lair, the only one not destroyed.
It was the Giry's that he was staying with, though Meg didn't know of his presence in the house. They were very near to the Opera Populaire, whose fate was currently undecided- the owners were considering rebuilding or closing.
Madame Giry's skills had saved him and were nursing him still. He would allow no doctor to see him- he liked the idea of people believing him dead.
Without her, you are dead. He thought. "Oh Christine…" he whispered.
Suddenly, he felt two small hands lifting his mask off. He reached up to prevent this and his hands were pushed away.
"I need to clean the cuts on your face." Madame Giry said, gently wiping a cool, wet cloth on his face.
"How- how is…everyone?" Erik asked, in a would be casual voice.
"Christine is fine." Was the response she gave him and he winced. Madame Giry through everything.
"Is she still with that young fool?" Erik spat out and now he saw Madame Giry hesitate. He grabbed her wrist. "She's not? Tell me Cecelia, now!" he demanded.
"She is still with him, although the marriage has been postponed…indefinitely." She said haltingly.
Erik felt, for the first time in weeks, a burst of hope and happiness inside of him. So, she did not marry the idiot fop. He thought happily.
"Don't you go getting any of your foolish ideas!" Madame Giry broke into his thoughts, her voice once again commanding and strong. Erik raised an eyebrow, giving her what was clearly meant to be a 'who me?' look.
"I mean it Erik! Think of Christine, and yourself!" she implored him. But Erik only smiled at her, the smile that always scared her. Indeed, plots were already running through his mind.