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Chapter 16

Christine stared into the mirror in front of her. Today was finally the day of the last dress rehearsal. She felt vaguely nervous, and wondered what would happen after the performance of Don Juan Triumphant. Would she leave this time? Christine carefully studied her own reflection. Oddly, the idea of leaving 1863 frightened her. She felt more at home here than she had ever felt in her own time.

Two green eyes stared back at her from the mirror. Christine imagined these eyes turning amber, and then slowly slid open the mirror, to make sure she really was imagining things.

She wasn't.

Erik stepped forwards and enveloped Christine in his arms, breathing into her hair. She registered that he was wearing a shirt again. There seemed to be a silence that hung in the air all around them, a smothering pressure of things unsaid. Christine kept hearing a hissing in her ears, and was trying to ignore it. Erik was hearing the same thing, only he could recognize the hissing as Time, time warning that there would always be either too much or too little.

Time is ethereal. It controls itself, and we are just figures, obeying the law of continuous, never-stopping time. What was once there, in that exact second, will never be there again. Time will continue to roll on, no matter how we try to capture and refine it. Time obeys no laws.

Christine heard a tapping on the door behind her, and wordlessly pulled away from Erik to answer it. Erik stared at her hand. Something was missing. What was it? The ring! Where was Christine's engagement ring? But that's ridiculous, he thought. A 15-year-old having an engagement ring! But he knew she had it! He had remembered her wearing it, hadn't he?

Try as he could, Erik could not remember seeing Christine with that ring. Instead, the image was just painted in his mind, like something from a picture. Meanwhile, Christine was trying to explain something to Raoul, who was outside of her door.

"Yes, I know, Raoul, I'm coming to rehearsal! Just give me a minute!" Christine said impatiently, and made a move to shut the door.

Raoul stopped it with his hand. "Christine, are you alright? I haven't seen you in such a long time, and you seem--" Raoul's eyes suddenly widened. "He's in there, with you, isn't he?" He said in a stage whisper.

Christine felt a combination of annoyance and fear at how Raoul would react to Erik. She sensed Erik step up behind her and flapped her hand behind her back, trying to tell him to go away. Instead, he caught her hand and began tracing her ring finger with his hands. What the hell was he doing?

Raoul pushed open the door and stepped into the room. "What are you doing in here, Monsieur le Phantom!" he snarled. Christine felt ultimately worried and amused at the same time, and distractedly looked down at the finger Erik had been tracing. Her hand looked strangely empty. She stared at it as Raoul's raised voice and Erik's quiet, menacing one died out. Memories, or not memories, just still pictures of what was to come, swirled around Christine. Time was the breath that made the pictures revolve.

Christine watched as an image of Erik's hurt eyes at the masquerade spun into oblivion and disappeared. Next came a large picture of Christine and Raoul on a rooftop, which abruptly became blurry and was replaced with the close-up shot of an engagement ring. The engagement ring supposedly belonging on Christine's empty hand. The ring turned to dust as the familiar voice of Time rasped in Christine's ear, "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…What once was wrong… Now is lost."

Blinking as the images disappeared, Christine was left with the distinct feeling that some of the memories she had acquired upon reaching this other time had been a bit more than memories. They had been Time's way of trying to right a wrong, visions of impending moments and the pain they would cause. Christine shook her head to clear it and suddenly understood what it was she had needed to fix. She had needed to fix her relationship with Erik. She had needed to let go of the constant reminder of her father that was in Raoul, and had needed to learn that in the course of experiencing love, love like her father's, love like Erik's, love even like Raoul's, she could still have absolutely no idea of what love was.

Relief surged through her as she realized she had already fixed these things. In admitting to Erik that she loved him, she had fixed every single one. Expectantly, Christine gazed at the ceiling above her, as if time would just open a portal in the sky and whisk herself and Erik back to 2006. Sadly, nothing happened, and Christine was left with the sound of Erik's and Raoul's voices ringing in her ears.

"—and I'm telling you, Phantom, that you're pathetic attempts to kidnap--" Raoul was saying.

Erik began to laugh maliciously, and opened his mouth to speak just as he saw Christine's cold look of frustration. Instead, he contented himself with simply laughing. Christine moved towards the two, and realized abruptly that Raoul was only a year older than herself. Somehow, this fact seemed oddly important. She suddenly felt as if she was acting out a mini version of the Phantom of the Opera. Well, I am, aren't I! She thought wearily.

Raoul fell silent as Christine stepped towards Erik. He watched as she threaded her fingers through Erik's hand. He watched as they exchanged a look of the purest understanding he had ever seen, the understanding he had been striving to share with Christine, and felt jealous and dejected. But it was the kind of sadness that is temporary, and though is felt as keenly as if it will last eternally, is always accompanied by that small thought, this won't last forever.

In a small voice, Raoul said, "You love him."

Christine nodded tentatively. Raoul turned away and towards the door, and then turned back around again. "I thought you loved me," he whispered.

Tears were growing in Christine's eyes, because she knew she was losing something, and she replied, "I thought I loved you, too." But at the same time, she was gaining everything. "Raoul…" Christine thought of all the time they had spent together, spent with her father, and had the sudden comprehension that she wasn't losing these memories by losing the people in them. "Raoul… You were the only connection I had to my father. Of course I loved you."

"So—Why…?" He motioned to Erik.

"Because…" Christine searched for her words. "Because while you and I share that bond of memories of my father… I won't ever lose those memories, and I—I don't really, well, need you to be able to… to be close with my father. I know now that I won't lose him like I thought I would. And I also know now that some bonds are stronger than memories."

Raoul nodded, a small, faint nod, and he looked back and forth from Christine to Erik and cleared his throat. "Well," he said, and started towards the door. "I think you're probably late for your rehearsal by now." And with one last slightly bewildered look at the two, he strode off down the corridor.

Christine rested her head on Erik's shoulder. He whispered throatily into her ear to go to rehearsal and she wordlessly left. Erik collapsed onto Christine's bed and stared out the window in front of him. As soon as he had noticed Christine's missing ring, he had realized that he had not only possessed memories of another life upon reaching this time, but visions of another future, as well.

Erik felt oddly content, and just before he went to sleep, he thought, Now if I could just get back to my present…

Francine Giry flipped through the pages of her Phantom of the Opera book. Most were full now, and only five remained blank. She knew her two time-travelers would soon return, and looked around at her surroundings for one of the last times. Dishes were piled in the sink, dirty clothes overflowing from the hamper. Sheet music was in unorganized piles on the piano.

Mrs. Giry had received countless calls from Christine's parents, and she had assured them that their daughter was simply on a two-and-a-half week long music seminar. She gave a wry smile and relaxed on her messy couch. The tattered pages of the book on the table in front of Francine fluttered slightly, and she sighed. Soon… They'd be back soon…

Erik felt his shoulder being roughly shaken and he sat up with a start. Christine was standing over him, and the sun was setting behind her, making her hair seem to glow. Sleepily, he reached up for her and pulled her into him. He felt guilty. He was living for the moments when he could be with her, touch her, have this proof that she loved him in return. Erik felt embarrassed of his insecurity, and loosened his hold on Christine.

Sighing, Christine said, "We don't have much more time here. I know it. Tomorrow is the performance." She turned to Erik and watched him carefully. "Why do you insist on wearing your mask around me?"

Immediately Erik looked embarrassed and ashamed. Christine wished she hadn't said anything, but didn't back off. Her eyes seemed to prompt Erik, and he got up and moved away from her and stared out the window at the sunset. Finally, when Erik spoke, his voice was clear and cold. "I thought you didn't care about my mask."

"I don't! I just--"

"You just what , Christine? Curiosity finally got the better of you?" Erik's voice took on a high, fake girlish tone. "You wanted to know what was underneath? You wanted to see how ugly I am?" Now Erik's voice was disgusted. "I thought you loved me. I thought you didn't care."

It was now Christine's turn to feel embarrassed and ashamed, and she knew she should just let this go, that she should never have brought this topic up in the first place, but stupidly, she plowed on. "That's really nice, Erik," she said sarcastically. "You obviously don't even trust me enough to believe that I'll keep loving you no matter how you look. And yet you tell me that I don't love you ."

Erik's eyes blazed and he stepped threateningly towards Christine. "I hate you," he said flatly. "After all this time, you still accuse me of not fully loving you. You know what?" Erik was striking out with words now, wanting to hurt and embarrass Christine in the same way she had him. "You don't know what love is. You'll probably never know. You're just too stupid to see it when it stares you in the face."

"Oh!" cried Christine. "You mean like you are! Staring me in the face!" Christine reached out and ripped Erik's mask off.

He was silent. She was silent. Shadows in the room grew steadily longer as the sun progressed downwards. What had started out as a look of shock on Erik's expression turned to one of complete disappointment and pain, and now was steadily becoming one of anger. Christine was unconsciously mirroring his expressions on her own face.

Tentatively, she reached out and traced a small scar on Erik's cheek. His cheekbone felt odd and oversized, and slowly she moved her fingertips up to the one-half of his forehead where the bone jutted out over his eye. Erik closed his eyes to stop the tears that prickled in them, and then felt frustrated that was actually crying, and with relief let his anger bubble up and control him.

He snatched his mask out of Christine's hand and shoved it back on his face. He sneered at her and grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "Have you had your fun now? Are we done being entertained with poor Erik?" He stopped shaking her and she stumbled away from him. "Run," he hissed, and his anger was so catastrophic that he couldn't think past it. It was a block in his brain that all other emotions hid behind. "Run, Christine. Get away from me. I was sure nice while I was in the present, though, wasn't I? Or did my scars scare you then, too?"

In two steps, he caught up with the horrified Christine, who was trembling beside the bed next to her. She watched him with dawning realization as he pushed her onto the bed and pressed his hand over her mouth. "You liar," he hissed into her ear as she struggled underneath him. "You loved me!" Erik breathed into her ear and ran his mouth down her cheek. A deep, awful laugh welled up in him and poured out. "Do you love me now? I frighten you now, don't I. I sicken you."

Christine pounded her fists on Erik's shoulders, and with a gigantic push, heaved him off of her. She leapt up from underneath him and he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down onto his lap. "The crazy thing is," he said, his words like poison arrows hissing into her ear, "I hate you so much, but no matter how much I want to stop loving you…" Erik's breathing was labored and it tickled her cheek. "… I can't. And that only makes me hate you more."

All in one movement, Erik turned and lay on top of Christine on the bed once more. Concentrating on getting away from him, she grunted, "Why are you doing this?" Erik shrugged on top of her, and cupped her face in his hands. Christine's fear and hurt were seeping into her and she momentarily admired Erik's ability to hide his other emotions behind his anger.

"Maybe I like this," Erik growled, and Christine shivered underneath him.

"What are you going to do to me?" she whispered.

Erik seemed to jump and sat straight up. He looked down at Christine from his position and shock showed largely and obviously on his face. He leapt up and towards the mirror, and then stopped, turned around and looked at Christine, who was standing awkwardly. Erik muttered something and strode quickly towards her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her fiercely on the mouth. Stunned, she didn't even struggle against him. Finally Erik turned and left the room, leaving the mirror open behind him.