A/N- Oh, goodness. Well, contrary to popular belief, I'm not dead. Don't hurt me. AHHH! -dodges heavy things aimed at my head- I've been meaning to get a chapter up, but I didn't have any time. Really, no time. And I've been plagued with many little scenes of my story, but I don't know how exactly to connect them. You can blame that on the muse.

-jerks finger at Kay Erik, who is whistling innocently- So here go my feeble attempts. Oh, and another thing. Since we can't put review replies on the stories, I'll just email answers to some of the people who had questions. And don't worry, this story does have a plot, it'll just take a little time to get there.

And another thing. I've decided that Erik is going to have golden eyes. Like in Leroux.

Disclaimer: ….Do we really need these things?

Ch 5: Learn to Forgive

Nadir eyed them both, and fell back in his chair with a worried expression. "So, Erik. I do hope you haven't made any rash decisions?"

The Phantom ignored the question, and picked up the teacup with nimble fingers. "The tea is cold, Daroga." The slight ironic quirk in his voice made Christine smile again, although the seriousness of the situation was very real.

"That is through no fault of mine. If you hadn't taken so long to stop being such a stubborn…" The Persian trailed off, looking furious. Christine could sense the slight smile behind the mask.

"I hate it when you do that. Now, will you please tell me what you have done this time?"

Erik sat down gracefully, while she sat down in the chair next to him. Christine was still wondering over the implications of what she had just agreed to. While it was not, and would never be in her power to break his heart again, she still wasn't that strong. She didn't know whether she could watch him die, the man whom she had once thought invincible.

But she had promised, and she couldn't go back. She stared at the little diamond inset within the gold, underneath the table. She remembered that day, which seemed so long ago…

"So it was for you, the wedding dress and the ring. Mademoiselle, I can't tell you how happy I am to make the acquaintance of such a very great lady…I think he would cut out his heart to please you."

That simple, well-meaning man had turned her world upside down that day.

"Christine is to be my wife, Nadir. I don't want to hear about your moral obligations. She accepted it; I didn't force anything upon her. She insisted."

The restrained anger in Erik's voice brought Christine back to the present, and she soon saw the situation. The two men were glaring at each other; Erik was winning. She laid her hand gently on his forearm resting on the table, and he glanced at her concernedly.

"Christine is tired, Daroga. I do not wish to continue this pointless conversation with you." He stifled a cough, and Christine worried. The man seemed to still believe he was a ghost.

"I'm fine, Erik. Monsieur Khan, I assure you, Erik didn't make me do anything. He asked me, and I said yes."

Not exactly the true story, but she didn't want to worry about the future right now. She would put it away, until the time came to talk about it again.

Nadir gave her a surprised glance, and Erik coughed. A pale pink color colored her cheeks as she realized what she had just said. "Pardon my rudeness, Monsieur, but that is the truth. And I want to get Erik back into bed."

She intercepted the sharp looked Erik sent her, although she was weakening. Too much, too soon…She couldn't do this by herself. Now two lives were on her conscience. How long could she carry this burden, without breaking down?

Christine was whispering now. "Please."

Nadir sighed deeply. "I suppose there is no way I can change your mind. A good waste of tea, this was…"

Their voices swirled all around her, meaningless phrases floating through her head… No, she thought dimly, I can't faint now. She wasn't strong to begin with, but she managed to stand up wearily, banishing the bright stars flashing in front of her eyes.

Erik was right behind her, and she leaned back, almost unconsciously, to balance herself. Sensing her weakness, he picked her up in one swift motion, forgetting his own limitations at the moment. With a strength that looked positively inhuman in his thin, tortured frame, he carried the girl to her old room, with Nadir following behind.

Christine's eyes fluttered open. Where am I now?

She groggily switched her position, aware of the gown twisted around her legs. Nadir was fighting Erik…because of the ring. Where is Erik? How did I get into my room?

She opened her eyes again, and stared at closed eyes behind a white mask, propped up by a hand. His elbow rested on the soft bed, while his other hand rested near her head, as if he was about to touch her.

She carefully raised herself into a sitting position, observing more closely the child-like position of his sleep. He was so vulnerable like this…so human. So different from what she knew of him.

Would he awake if I touched him…?

She inched her small hand, the one with the ring, closer to his sleeping figure. Before she got near his face, the deep-set eyes flew open. Neither of them moved for a moment, afraid to break the silence.

"Were you going to take off my mask, Christine?" Erik's sorrowful voice made her flinch back, breathing hard. He didn't trust her. He would never be able to trust her again.

"I wanted to…" She trailed off, not wanting to sound childish.

"You don't have to do this, you know." The Opera Ghost reached out towards her, and then dropped his hand.

She shivered as a sudden chill swept through her body, and brought her legs up to her chest in a very un-ladylike fashion. "Do what?"

"Marry me. It was enough, to just stay here. Nadir was right."

Christine was suddenly alarmed at the tone of his voice, and reached forward to gently place a hand on his arm. "Erik, no." She tugged gently on his sleeve, and patted the space next to her on the bed. "Come here, please."

He shook his head stubbornly, turned away. "It wouldn't be right." How trusting she was! Perhaps too much so…A monster didn't deserve to be trusted.

She sighed. "I want you to lie down. You'll kill yourself if you go on like this. I'll get up, if you prefer."

He quickly got to his feet. "No." Christine moved over, and Erik awkwardly sat down on the edge of the bed. His hand danced automatically over the coverlet, tapping out melodies only he could hear.

"Did you do that as a child?" She gestured at his fingers, which abruptly lay still. Christine knew she was in dangerous territory – but she suddenly needed to know more. She wanted to understand the dark past he had confided in her.

"I believe I did. My mother would slap me for it…she had no patience for that sort of thing. Only Sasha didn't care." His eyes grew remote as the memory came back, and he drew back from the girl, almost unconsciously.

"Sasha?"

"She was my dog. The day she died was the day I ran away from home." His voice sounded flat, all feeling erased from his forbidding profile.

Christine couldn't stop. "How did she die?"

He snapped out of his reverie, and his lethargy was replaced with anger. "She was killed by a mob. They killed her because she was mine. They would have killed me, if they had gotten the chance. Are you satisfied now?"

The room was silent; Erik's haggard breathing alerting her to the possibility of another fit. She hurried to try to calm him down, inching closer to his tense figure.

"I'm sorry. I just want to understand…"

The Phantom gave a harsh laugh. "You don't, Christine. You don't want to understand."

Timid now, she lifted the hand that was lying motionless beside him, and started examining his deceptively fragile wrist, long fingers. "You don't mind, do you?"

Erik shook his head slowly, staring at her small fingers probing his hand. There were small scars crisscrossed all over the painfully thin wrist, and Christine frowned.

"Where did you get all these scars?"

"I broke a mirror when I was younger." His answer was short and abrupt, so she didn't want to ask more about it. She traced the lines of his palm, and then he jerked his hand away. Growing bolder with her small successes, she reached over again and entwined his long fingers with her own.

She could sense him tense up, and she glanced up at his face. He stared straight ahead, purposefully ignoring her. Giving her a chance to take her hand back, to exclaim at the bone-chilling cold of his hands. To remember what he was, and what he had done. Christine didn't care right now. She squeezed his hand gently, and broke the silence.

"Erik…When will we be married?"

His angelic voice was soft, tired. "This marriage is on your terms, my dear. Or have you forgotten?" Why was she doing this? Did her actions stem from the pity she felt for a dying man, or was it…something else? No, Erik decided, it was not something else; it couldn't be. But for now, the soft pressure of her fingers, the trusting tone of her words, the closeness of her body…That was more than he could have ever hoped for.

"I haven't forgotten. But I was just wondering…What is your last name? Since it is customary for women to take their husband's name…" She looked down, suprised at her own courage.

Erik shook his head thoughtfully. "I am aware of that. Unfortunately, I don't seem to recall it…I'm sure my mother never wished for me to share her name. I suppose I'll have to ask Jules to go searching…In Rouen, perhaps." His eyes grew dark at some memory that Christine couldn't fathom.

"What's wrong?" She looked at Erik, vaguely worried. Her anxiety turned to frustration as the mask effectively hid all of his emotions from view. "Erik, will you please let me take the mask off?"

"No." His voice was distant, and had a note of finality in it. But Christine wasn't going to back down; he had to let himself relax.

"Yes. I told you, it doesn't matter. How can I be a good wife if I cannot even see your face? I know what is there; you don't have to hide from me." She untangled her fingers and reached up to take it, but his hand caught her own in a strong yet gentle grip, effectively arresting her progress.

"I will take the mask off." He lowered her hand down, and took it off with his other hand. She stared at him as his brow rose in a question.

"Well? Is your insatiable curiosity satisfied?"

Her insistence to see his face alarmed him. He wanted her to forget about the face, at least for now. Even he despised his own face …why would she want to see it? Unless she was mocking him…But she was staying. She was staying, and now she was stuck, for Christine would not go back on her word.

She smiled, and reached up to touch his marred features. "Yes. Now I can see you." She meant that in more ways than one; he seemed much more human without the forbidding white mask, which made him into something unearthly…like an angel. A dark angel.

He sighed as her fingers touched his face. She remembered with sudden clarity that she was the only one to ever touch his face with kindness. She had to remember that, in the days to come, or else she would start thinking about Raoul. Raoul…

Her distress must have shown on her face for a second, for Erik asked coldly, "You're thinking about that boy, aren't you? You wish you weren't here. It's too late, Christine."

She turned away from his harsh words, and got up from the bed. She walked to the doorway carefully, not wanting to faint again. He glided over to her with a faint cough, and silently stood behind her. She turned around with an exasperated look, but dropped it as he began to run his finger down her jaw line, a remorseful look in his golden eyes.

"Forgive me. I deserve nothing; therefore I should be pleased with whatever you choose to give."

Christine threw her arms around him, burying her head in his shoulder. The Phantom looked surprised, then tenderly drew his arms across her back. Her voice came out muffled but clear, "You deserve everything, angel. I am the problem. You could have chosen so much better..."

He drew back and lifted her chin up. "No. You are perfect." With that, he exited the room, Christine hurrying after him.

"Where did Monsieur Khan go, Erik?" She reached his side once more as they entered the little living room where they had spent so many hours together.

"He had to go out. I expect he will be coming back shortly." He sat in a chair, and she stood next to him. "In fact, he should be arriving now."

A few minutes later, Nadir rushed in, looking decidedly frazzled. He had a letter half crumpled in his hands, his face almost comical in his alarm. Christine moved forward, wanting to help, but Erik kept her back. "My dear fool, what are you doing to that letter?"

Nadir noticed what he was doing and stopped twisting the paper, then stared at the Opera Ghost, wincing a little at his unmasked face.

"Erik…someone is looking for you."

Dundundun...Yay, a cliffie!