II. Trying too hard to put you from my Mind

Although Raoul had protested, he had at last agreed to accompany Christine, after a vain and rather pathetic effort to keep her locked in his bedroom. Maybe it had been a bit too cruel to threaten to break off their engagement, and the wounded look in his eyes still made her feel guilty about it – after all, the comparison with the Phantom, that he had locked her in, too, once (although she had not noticed it at that time), would have certainly been enough on its own, yet to come here was important to her. She could not have told Raoul why, of course, or else he might have had a fit with worries, but the reason she had given him – to inspect the damage and see what Meg's and her mother's perspectives for the future were, in this situation – had been good enough for him. That Meg might soon be tried hard to earn a living was something bothering him as well, and he had been muttering about the Phantom all morning.

On their way here, sitting in the coach together, he had occasionally inquired about the Phantom, if she could feel his proximity. To soothe his worries, Christine had finally told him that he was out, which had made him very glad – yes, out of the cellars; she had been close enough to their destination to feel him, and the idea she was getting was that he was somewhere upstairs, but no need to mention that. Raoul was worrying too much, anyway. And it wasn't even a lie, so she was not being dishonest. Moreover, the Phantom's leaving his cellars probably equalled pretty much what to other people was going out. Well, maybe not exactly. But it was close enough.

While climbing up to the lodgings, Raoul seemed cheerful enough, but Christine started to feel uneasy. The sensation inside her head, the awareness, seemed to grow with every step. He was there, somewhere around here, very close. And if she could feel him, she was sure that he could feel her just as well. Maybe he was even watching her right now, her and Raoul, waiting for an opportunity to hurt her beloved… She should not have brought Raoul! What if something happened to him? But she had promised to take him along wherever she went, and she doubted that she could have stopped him.

They encountered Meg on the stairs already, among a cluster of other girls, and immediately they were subjected to myriads of questions about what had really happened down in the cellars on that terrible night. Although both she and Raoul made some effort to fend them off, they were entirely unsuccessful, and at last Raoul offered to tell them at least what he was ready to tell, while Christine could go ahead and see Madame Giry. At first she had a bad feeling about Raoul's suggestion, but then again, she would not be far, and he was surrounded by half the female ballet and chorus members. And moreover, it seemed to her that the Phantom was somewhere ahead currently, so she would surely feel when he came at Raoul because he would have to cover some distance. At least she hoped she would.

And there was something else still: Before she and Raoul had left the Phantom, he had asked her not to tell anyone about it. His pleading eyes were quite clear in her memory. To fulfil this last wish for him was the least she could do.

Immediately after she had knocked on the door, she realized why she had had the feeling that the Phantom was straight ahead. He still was. He was right behind this door.

Too late to turn back now. Already the door swung open, and Madame Giry greeted her warmly, beckoning her inside. Drawing a deep breath, Christine stepped over the threshold. No, she told herself, he has not reconsidered. He can't have. He was there only this morning, and he was very gentle. He couldn't possibly… He wouldn't… He is not really evil at heart, just misunderstood and desperate and lonely… He wouldn't harm me! He never would! But however certain she had been of this only yesterday, now she very suddenly was not, not anymore.

She was not at all surprised when she saw him standing in a corner, leaning against the wall with one shoulder, seemingly trying to appear nonchalant, but his gaze was as intense as ever. At once his full presence washed over her, filling her with fire and ice, and she trembled both with anticipation and dread. How foolish she had been, to think he would not affect her anymore! He would, he always would; that angelic voice belonging to a demon would never be gone from her head.

What was Raoul going to say to this?

"Do not fear him", Madame Giry said gently from behind her. "He will not harm you."

"You knew", Christine said flatly, turning towards her. "You knew it all along. You knew who my Angel was, and you never told me."

Madame Giry sighed. "Yes, child, I did. I do not deny it."

Willing herself to face the Phantom, Christine realized with horror that he was coming towards her. She wanted to back away, but those eyes, those searing, blazing, burning eyes, froze her to the spot she was standing on. He kept coming, slowly, without any hurry, until he stood a bare arm's length from her. Then he stopped, his eyes still on her. Christine felt dizzy, dazzled by his proximity. Her heart was racing; her thoughts were swirling and spiralling in her head. Even breathing steadily had become difficult. Nonetheless she tried, fighting hard against the dizziness making her want to collapse against his chest and think no more thought. "What are you doing to me?" Her voice sounded pressed somehow, but at least more or less even.

Instead of an answer, he looked at Madame Giry over her shoulder.

"So it's not a conscious thing", the ballet instructor spoke up again from behind her.

"No. I can feel her without reaching out to her. Without even just feeling around. I could point to her blindfolded without doing anything first." What was it in his voice? Uncertainty? Wonder? What was he talking about?

"And you're sure that under different circumstances you would have to do something?"

"Absolutely."

"Don't forget to take into account how well you know her", Madame Giry reminded him.

"I know you well, too. And it's different with you. I don't truly feel you until I reach out towards you." Here he hesitated. "Well, actually I do feel something now, without reaching out. But that's because you're very close. If you were a few rooms away, I wouldn't feel a thing without wanting to, and it would be a bit difficult, at that distance and without seeing you. And all the same, even if you are close, I don't feel you properly unless I do something."

"Do you think this might have something to do with… your feelings towards her?"

"Yes, and no. I do think about her all the time, but still… I've loved her longer than this."

With growing irritation, Christine had listened to their conversation over her head. But now, it was definitely enough. Why couldn't they explain what they were talking about? And why did he have to say he loved her? Wasn't it enough that she knew? Why did he have to make her feel guilty, even if there was nothing to feel guilty about? They were going to tell her now – no, he was going to, if he truly loved her! Poking her forefinger straight into his chest, she demanded, "What is this you're talking about? Aren't you going to explain, instead of just discussing matters over my head, like I wasn't there?"

Startled, he looked down at her once more. "I'm sorry", he said softly, and the slight change in his aura filing her head told her he truly was. Strange, his feelings had never been so clear to her before… until that night before last. It had started then.

"You're there in my mind", he said simply. "All the time. Without me looking for you."

She drew a deep breath before answering. "So are you. Much clearer than ever." Telling him so almost felt like committing herself to him, and part of her immediately wished she had kept silent, while the other asked how exactly she could possibly commit herself. No, it was just a weird feeling, nothing more.

"For how long?" His voice suddenly was breathy, as if excited, and eager to know.

"That night", she said, not looking at him. Would he now think that she loved him, too? Would he take this as something she had certainly never said, and never intended to say? Of course she felt something for him, and she was not even sure what, but not what she felt for Raoul. Yet would he read some different meaning into her words?

He nodded, as if he had known her answer beforehand. "And since when, exactly?"

"I… I don't know." As a matter of fact, she had a strong suspicion, well, actually a little bit more than a suspicion, although she had not quite noticed it straight away then, but it was better not to tell him that.

"Ever since we kissed, isn't it?" he asked quietly.

She could only nod to this.

"So what do you reckon?" Madame Giry asked, and Christine felt a bit of embarrassment at her being there when the Phantom spoke of such things. She hadn't kissed him because she loved him, rather because she loved Raoul, but all the same, it was a private matter between them, and the idea of anyone apart from Raoul knowing was not exactly a pleasant one.

"I don't know", the Phantom said. In this swirl of emotions, it was hard to keep their feelings apart in her head, but there was something very tender when he looked at her, and while somehow uncertain, very grateful. Yes, it had been this kiss changing his mind, hadn't it? She could have read it from what she sensed of his feelings, if she had not known.

For a moment there was silence, then Madame Giry began, "When you reach out to her, and when you find her… what do you normally do? And Christine, what do you do?"

Christine gave him a startled look while looking for an answer, and he answered it with an equally startled one before he replied, with what could be called an apologetic smile in Christine's direction, "I enter her mind."

"I don't think I do anything", Christine said. "I might try to fight him off, though", she added, so that it didn't seem as if she allowed him to be in and out of her mind however much he liked to.

"So if you don't fight him, you just admit him", Madame Giry stated.

"Well…" Christine did not quite like the sound of this, although she felt that it was pretty much correct.

"If you don't do anything, you allow him to", Madame Giry insisted. "He tries to enter your mind, you let him in, he takes over. That means he takes control." She paused thoughtfully. "I wonder. Until now, am I correct?"

The Phantom nodded, his expression not changing, but to Christine, he felt expectant. Definitely expectant.

"May I ask the two of you an intimate question?" But Madame Giry did not wait for their answer to that. "When you kissed, who started it?"

Again they looked at each other for a moment. At first it seemed that the Phantom was going to say something, but then he stopped himself and looked at Christine uncertainly. He knew the answer, and he found that it was not his place to utter it. Somehow, Christine was grateful for it. He left the decision to her, and she did not doubt that he would confirm it if she lied. But she did not want to, not to Madame Giry, who had been like a mother to her. "Me", she said, turning to look at her as she spoke. "It was me who…started it."

"And you –?" Madame Giry gave the Phantom a questioning look.

He shrugged. "Well, I kissed her back."

"But did you do anything apart from that?"

"I don't know. I was quite busy kissing her."

Despite all the dark memories from that night, Christine had to stifle a giggle, and the Phantom gave her a tiny grin. Was she just imagining things, or had there been a mischievous sparkle in his eyes for a moment?

"Were you inside her mind while you kissed?"

"No. I wanted her to… choose consciously." He spoke very quietly, and a feeling of guilt came over Christine that was not hers.

Madame Giry looked thoughtful. "Could it be that it all just happened as it usually does, only the other way round?"

The Phantom frowned. "What do you mean?"

But Christine understood. "That I entered his mind? How? I have no idea how he does it."

If that was possible, the Phantom's frown intensified very slightly. "I wouldn't know how you could so suddenly do it, either, but… I certainly yielded."

Christine could only stare at him. What he was suggesting there, what Madame Giry was suggesting, was absolutely outrageous. How could she ever enter someone's mind? "But I don't know how it's done", she protested. "I can't read minds, let alone control them."

"But you can feel him, can't you? And you could feel him before, when he was close."

Christine nodded uncertainly. "Yes, I could. But I think I mainly felt it when he was… touching me. With his mind, I mean. And when he was… very close…" She broke off, realizing what she had just said. When they had kissed, how could he have been any closer? It fitted, it all fitted. But how could she have managed to enter his mind?

And then she remembered. "I allowed myself to feel him", she said quietly. "But… he wasn't there as clearly as sometimes, and…"

"You tried to draw me in", he supplied.

"Yes", she admitted, "I might have."

"And I wasn't doing anything, which made you the dominant part." His eyes wandered over to Madame Giry. "That was brilliant."

The ballet instructor smiled warmly. "No. You're the brilliant one among the two of us."

"But I didn't see that."

"Because you thought you were the only one. Because you were convinced you were."

"But I'm not a mind-reader!" Christine protested.

"Maybe you are", Madame Giry said.

"I'll know that in a moment." His attention returned to her again, and once more his eyes were on her. "When you close your eyes, can you feel that there is someone around you? Like a speck of light in the darkness? Like a secluded patch of warmth in a lifeless place? Do you know if there's someone inside before you enter a room? Do you sometimes have feelings that are not your own?"

"No", Christine answered truthfully. "I never felt anything like that." Here she hesitated, but then she plunged on. "But I can feel you. When you're close enough, I could point a finger at you blindfolded, like you said before. And I could find you by just following the feeling."

Madame Giry sighed. "I'm afraid that explains nothing at all."

"No", the Phantom said, "it explains everything. You're not a mind-reader, Christine, you were right about that. You can't just feel out and enter anybody's mind. It only works with me."

"I don't understand."

"Neither do I. Not completely, at least. But I think I might yet work it out."

"But how could I enter your mind if I can't? It was always you who did that with me, and you were in control all the time."

He smiled. "Almost correct. Your only mistake is that I could not be consciously in control all the time."

"I don't know what you mean."

"I was in your dreams, wasn't I?"

"Yes, and you sometimes changed them. You had to be in control to change them."

"Except when I fell asleep myself without breaking the connection first."

Now Christine was getting a vague idea of where this was going. "So that sometimes happened."

He was still smiling. "All the time. This way I could make sure you were not having nightmares, because if you had, I was bound to feel it, and I would wake up and change them. And besides, after some time I could hardly sleep without it. I suppose it was silly, really, but I kept worrying that something might happen to you while I was asleep, and that I might wake up and find you gone. Stupid, I know, but it helped."

Astounded, Christine noted that this was the first time she ever saw him look slightly embarrassed. But what incurred her astonishment even more was what she had just heard. "That's –"

"Yes, I know", he broke in roughly, his features suddenly stony once more. "One more taking you over and manipulating you, puppeteering around with you. One more reason to hate me."

Christine took a careful step back. She did not like that fierce light burning in his eyes. How could he change so suddenly, from gentle and warm to cold and violent? She had seen this change take place before, true enough, but every time she witnessed it, it scared her anew. "No", she murmured, "no… I mean…" But she could not bring herself to tell him, not when he was looking at her like that, not when her awareness was filled with anger cold as ice, vast like a glacier she could lose herself in. She should never have come here. She should never have listened to his voice this morning, whatever outrageous tale he had told her to lure her here! God, why couldn't she just turn her back on him and forget him, make him walk out of her life and set her free? No, he would always be there, inside her head, beckoning to her, calling her, so very tenderly that she almost forgot he was no angel, only to cruelly remind her, as soon as she confronted him, that the Angel she had once loved was dead.

His hand shot up to cup her chin, gripping it strongly, but careful not to hurt her. He always found this point of balance perfectly. "What is it you mean?" The fires in his eyes seemed to have burned down, but still they were glowing, and who could tell what would kindle them anew?

Christine swallowed. Lying was of no use. Trying hard to work some moisture back into her mouth – she had hardly noticed how rapidly it had dried away – she replied, "What I meant to say… it's… actually, it was sweet of you."

Once more, his reaction was utterly unexpected. His hand dropped away, and Christine had the strong impression that his jaw was at the point of dropping as well. Several expressions flickered across his features, gone too quickly to be truly read, and an echo of feelings tumbled through her consciousness, so contrary that she wondered how one single mind could contain them all. Pride, annoyance, happiness, a touch of shame, a hint of smugness as well as one of disdain, and many more dancing specks of sensation she could hardly put a name to. What was going on in his head, she wondered, what was truly going on in there? But when he spoke again, his voice was completely calm, as was his face, not betraying the torrent of emotions inside. "Right, what I was going to tell you was that when I fell asleep I partly let go of the control, though still keeping my hold on you, and… well… maybe part of me seeped over into you."

Christine shivered inwardly at the mere idea. However much she appreciated his presence at night, in those moments before she fell asleep, to picture this made her feel soiled, tainted by his touch.

"Whatever happened", he continued, "it gave you the ability to at least accidentally come close to entering my mind, and I wasn't aware and let you" – his face showed his reluctance to admit so – "and now there is a connection neither of us can explain, nor break on his own. I still have to reach out when I want to take control, but not anymore if I only want to feel you. You're always there inside my head, taunting me, and I can't shut you out." His voice grew sharper as he spoke, his tone rougher. "You sealed my fate with that kiss. What more do you want? Isn't it enough for you to know you've found a very subtle way to have your revenge? Are you expecting me to beg you to release me next? On my knees, by any chance? What more do you have in store for me?" His eyes were flashing, the corners of his mouth twitching as he drew a sharp breath. "Why, Christine?" he hissed. "Why? Why do you play games with me? Why do you have to –?"

At first Christine did not know why he broke off so suddenly, but then she realized that Madame Giry had stepped up to him and placed a hand on his upper arm. "Don't", she said gently, but the underlying tone was firm enough. "The girl doesn't mean to play with you. Don't be so hard on her."

She was asking him not to be hard on her? Christine could not quite believe her ears. Madame Giry was acting as if she had truly done the Phantom wrong purposefully, instead of telling him that this all was – Here her train of thought came to a halt abruptly. Of course. You didn't tell the Phantom that he was being absolutely illogical in his accusations, and that, moreover, he was the one who had enjoyed playing games with her. No, rather not. Not with all that anger constantly flaring up inside her mind, a reflection of his own emotions, cold yet seething at the same time… and this feeling of pain.

"Come now", Madame Giry continued firmly, "why don't we sit down and have some tea? We shouldn't let it get cold. And there are still a few cucumber sandwiches left."

Christine smiled at her warmly. She had always liked cucumber sandwiches; how kind of Madame Giry to remember – though having tea with the Phantom was not exactly Christine's concept of being comfortable.

The Phantom, however, seemed not to be so easily swayed by cucumber sandwiches. "Would you kindly leave us alone for a moment?" he said evenly.

Madame Giry clearly wanted to protest at first, but then their gazes locked, and Christine could positively see all defiance draining out of the older woman. When the Phantom turned from her again, she only sighed heavily and made for the door, though not without a last apologetic glance at Christine, who gave her an affirmative nod. She would manage to deal with him on her own – somehow. After all, she had managed to do so before. Still, it provided some comfort when Madame Giry said, before closing the door behind her, "I won't be far."

The clicking of the lock seemed to Christine like the ominous toll of a bell, announcing the moment when her fate would be sealed. Drawing a deep breath, she tried to keep her hands from trembling while at the same time fixing her gaze as evenly as possible on the man opposite her.

For the first time she noticed that while his clothing was not exactly untidy, it was still somewhat in disarray, especially in comparison to his usual neat appearance. His jacket was very close to hanging off one shoulder; his shirt seemed slightly crumpled up. And there was a strand of hair which would be tucked behind his ear under normal circumstances, not just hanging over his temple. His looks corresponded perfectly with his flickering aura, flickering with all those emotions reeling madly inside her head. This was not how she had known him. Until that moment in the cellars, when he had very suddenly been reduced to flesh and blood, he had been a demon stepping out of a wild fantasy of Hell, terrible in his calm elegance and crowned with the night's dark glory. He was still a demon now, but had lost much of his bearing, thrashing out blindly in a rage he was unable to contain, still sinisterly imposing, but strongly diminished, far from what he had once been.

As soon as Madame Giry had left the room, he began circling Christine, like a predator watching his prey. But this time, she would not play his games for him. This time, she would not let him guide matters his way. "Why did you bring me here?" she asked before he had the chance to say anything.

"It was not me who brought you. You chose to come."

Christine bit her lip. In fact, he had as good as implored her not to come. He had seemed very concerned about something, although he had not made himself clear, and she had still been too drowsy to truly find out what it was he wanted. "But you lured me here", she said, feeling stupid about admitting to have walked into a set-up trap. "You wanted me to come, didn't you? What is it you want?"

"I wanted certainty", he answered, never faltering in his circling her. "I wanted to know what kind of bond now connects us, what made the old bond change into this. And at the same time, I didn't want you to come."

"But what you told me this morning doesn't make sense to me. Mysterious strangers lurking around your lair? What were you talking about, and what does this have to do with me?" Until now, she did very well in her own opinion. Keep him to the facts, don't give him the chance to play games, be careful not to let him intimidate you just because you are alone with him.

"Everything. If they – and I hardly yet know who they are – want anything of me, they could use you. And it is clear that they want something, whoever they are. I just want you to be safe. Maybe it would be better if you didn't come here at all until I have dealt with them."

"Why do you worry about me? Why should anyone try to get at me to get at you?" As soon as these words were uttered, she knew she had made a mistake. After all, she knew the answer to this only too well, and this answer would surely enough give him the opening he had been waiting for.

"Do you want to hear me say it again, then?" Another torrent of feelings rushed through her, making her dizzy. "Because I love you." At once he grabbed her from behind, crushing her against him as he had often done before. "I love you, and I'm not reluctant to admit it. Why should I be, when everybody knows?" His breath against the side of her neck sent a soft tingling through her. "And if everybody knows, they know. You in their hands would give them power over me. But I will never allow them to have you. Never, do you hear?" His grip around her middle tightened. "You will be safe from them, whatever it is they want. I will make sure you are. But still, I'm glad you have come." His embrace again tightened, and Christine knew that it was useless to fight him. She just hoped that he would release her soon, before he crushed her ribs. "And then again, I'm not. Your touch is pure joy as well as utter torment. I want you more than anything in the world, and you're so tantalizingly close to being mine, but still you slip from me, and I can't have you. You give me everything, only to destroy everything at the same instant. You torture me beyond enduring, but still I can't help loving you." He kissed the side of her neck, forcing her to clutch his forearms not to get the feeling that her knees would give way any moment and she would fall at his feet in a crumpled heap. "Whatever you chose that night, part of you is still mine, and I mean to claim it. I mean to have all I can get." Again his lips touched her neck. "Do you have any idea what that means, wanting someone so badly?" he asked between kisses, his voice suddenly husky, close to breathlessness. "The thrill of it? The joy? The pain?" Despite her grip on his arms, one of his hands slowly started wandering upwards. "I could teach you the meaning of true passion, if you only just let me. I could make you experience pure ecstasy. Just give in to your desire, as I will at last give in to mine. Be mine, as I will be yours." This time he did not kiss her, but bit her, at first nibbling the side of her neck gently, then biting harder, making her cry out with surprise as well as pain, sucking her skin greedily while still grazing it with his teeth –

The door sprang open, and Madame Giry strode in, making them break apart instantly. "Now this is enough", she said sternly. "What were you doing, making her shriek like that?"

"Nothing", the Phantom said sharply, shooting her a baleful glare the ballet instructor chose rather not to meet.

Massaging the side of her neck, careful to rub off the moisture which made her skin feel cold as it was suddenly exposed to air once more, Christine felt embarrassment flood her. Once again she had not managed to fight him off. Once again she had hardly even made an attempt to. And this with Raoul only a short distance away! She felt ashamed of herself.

"Very well", Madame Giry said, nodding at Christine reassuringly. "Let us sit and discuss this all over some tea now, shall we? I think you ought to know, child, what this is all about."

The Phantom continued glaring, but did not protest. When Madame Giry motioned him to sit down, he did so, seeming strangely subdued, not meeting Christine's eyes. And she felt that despite the powers he still possessed, he was a broken man, a mere shadow of himself, with nothing left of his pride and glory but ashes on the wind.