Author's notes: All I have to say is: Mwahahahaha. Oh, enjoy the phluff while you can… I hope Erik is IC in this one! I wanted him to be a bit darker for a moment!

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Chapter XXXIV

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A tiny match was lit and the hand that held it moved towards the nearby candelabra, made sure that each of the three stylish candles was lit. They illuminated her pale face and her smile. It was past midnight, and Christine had just returned home. For the first time in her life, she had walked the streets at night…. And she had been unafraid. How strange. Any girl in her position would have probably died of fright rather than emerge from her house alone and enter the darkness behind her doorstep.

But she had not been alone… and that was the beauty of it.

"It isn't much, but it's home." She said apologically when Erik began to pay closer attention to the interior of her apartment. It had several rooms, modern furniture and everything a lady might need, but it was no palace. Still, Christine was not very much used to grand and splendor, having spent a time of her life not high above poverty level. The apartment had been rented for her by the Opera and she would stay there for as long as her contract would last.

"Christine, believe me when I say, this is a palace compared to some of the places I have lived in." Erik said solemnly, but obviously with no desire to discuss the subject further. He paused. "How will you explain your absence from the celebrations?"

"I am an opera diva, I can have my eccentricities." Christine said after a moment of thought.

With a quiet laugh, Erik nodded. "True enough. I take it that I may stay in your home for the time being and exploit your hospitality for a while?"

"Yes, naturally. Unless you mind sleeping on the couch, that is."

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The managers didn't seem to have even noticed her absence when she came to apologize for it. From what Meg told her afterwards, Christine concluded that they had been way too drunk to realize she had left at all. She couldn't help but think that the older Giry kept glancing at her for moments at a time, as if studying her expression. She felt as if the woman saw right through her.

When she returned to her apartment, she found it deserted. Apparently, Erik went to see the city on his own. Strangely, it didn't bother her or cause her much distress. After what he had been through, she assumed correctly that he was more than capable of managing whatever business he had set out to deal with. Moving on to more pressing matters, she took a look at her post. The usual love letters she tossed aside once she read the first line. The letter from the managers of the Roman opera, begging her to come to an audition for Lucrezia Borgia, she put on the table to consider it, along with the letter from Giovanni and a congratulation note from Raoul. The last one, a heavier envelope with no address or signature, she curiously opened.

A ring fell out – but it was a simple band of gold, nothing like the gem-covered rings she was constantly offered, so sequined that they threatened to blind her. There was no stone, no decoration on it. Yet it was a wedding ring.

A small piece of paper fluttered to the floor and Christine crouched to pick it up.

My angel,

You sealed a promise with your word and your word is sacred to me, but please allow this ring to make that vow tangible. So long as you wear it, know that your poor Erik will lay the world to your feet, should you command it.

No signature was necessary.

The wedding vow, she remembered. She had agreed to become his wife. To this moment, she couldn't believe it. So many things fluttered through her mind – she had been busy with thinking of excuses why she had left, but now these thoughts invaded her mind with astounding effectiveness. Everything needed to be prepared, even though she knew it would be a small wedding. And she would want her uncle to be there.

The ghosts of the past. Christine smiled sadly. It would be up to her to convince Erik to settle "old scores" and finally put these things to rest. And there were other things as well…

Who was Erik? That was the question that allowed her no rest. Who had he been before he had entered her life? Did he have a family? Why had he appeared on Giovanni's doorstep all alone? How come a prodigy could be viewed with such preconceptions purely because of the unfortunate state of his face? The last, she perhaps could answer. But the rest of the questions needed answering.

Erik won't like this. Erik will be angry.

She didn't want him to be angry. She didn't want him to be upset, let alone bring up painful subjects right after she had agreed to marry him. The joy he felt was radiating even from the brief note. But she simply had to know.

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Erik arrived along with the setting sun, at dusk. He wouldn't say what he had been up to, except for the fact that he had been observing the city. At once his eyes moved to Christine's hands and Christine saw the change for the better in them as they found the ring on her finger, the band of the same color as the eyes. It seemed that nothing could destroy the moment of happiness…Christine knew better. She had been waiting to find him in a good mood and now she was about to spoil it so harshly.

She had to. At least she thought she did. And so she asked. Carefully at first, after they had sat down, after their discussion about Christine's day and the goings-on at the opera. With careful timidity, Christine began asking. It was the perfect little speech she had been running through in her mind for hours. At first, she brought up the subject of the engagement, expressed her joy and showed him, quite unnecessarily, the finger. She thanked him for the gift and fell silent, knowing well he would notice her anxiousness and ask about it. And she was right.

"It's just… I don't want to be rude or to pry, but… Erik, we have known each other for quite a long time, unfortunately, with breaks, but long enough for both of us to know that this isn't some passing infatuation. Yet… I feel I must ask…about you. You never told me about… about your family." She said slowly, hoping he wouldn't be angry. Not too angry.

The silence and the penetrating stare she had anticipated, but that didn't necessarily mean they didn't manage to unsettle her perfectly. Erik was motionless, simply looking at her, yet intimidating. He seemed to be contemplating on what possessed her to ask this question and at the same time, judging how to answer.

"My family is you, Christine." he answered finally, "You are the only family I need – no one else matters. You are different from them and you love me. There is no other family."

"But surely you have parents somewhere, Erik…"

"The long-dead man who is father and the hateful woman who I have no urge to call mother?" Erik interrupted. His voice remained calm. But the danger signs were already present – his eyes lit up, but not with a positive emotion. Rather, it was a spiteful flame.

Christine stared for a moment and then bowed her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"I never intended for you to know." Erik noted sternly. "You expected a fairy tale, Christine, like the one your childhood was? Do you still expect it, Christine? You accepted the promise ring – you said you would become my wife. If you wished for a wonderful fantasy, you should have stayed with that boy, the Vicomte. No doubt he will still take you back, if you want to run and cry on his shoulder."

"I'm sorry." Christine repeated with a slight sob. "I'm sorry, Erik, I didn't want to…"

"Offend me? Bring yourself back to reality?"

"Please…" Tears fell down her cheeks. Erik fell silent for a long moment, watching her.

"Oh, don't cry, Christine!" he suddenly moaned, throwing himself at her feet, clinging to her skirts. "Don't cry… it hurts me to see you cry, hurts me far more than you can imagine! Sweet, naïve Christine, poor Christine! You didn't know what the world would say, you are much too good, trusting. You believe in goodness! I have learned to believe in nothing, now I believe only in your love! Please don't cry, Christine! I promised you the world, I will give it to you, but please cry no more! God knows you deserve far more than this wretched world can give you!"

With deep breaths, Christine managed to stop her sobs, looking down at him.

"Erik…" she said quietly, causing him to look up at her. She saw that his eyes also weren't dry. "You spoke the name of God. You said… you believe in him, don't you?"

A brief hesitation. "Yes. Yes, I believe he exists, that he sees us. We have our differences, He and I, and at times He disappoints me greatly. At others, He grants me wishes, sometimes. I promised… I promised Him that if I would manage to return home and you would still love me, Christine, after all that had happened you would love me, I would be good forever." Erik said, with no childishness, "And look at me! You agreed to be my bride and I am bad to you! Christine, I don't deserve you! Perhaps you will be snatched from me at a moment when it will be even more painful than now, though when that will be, I can't imagine!"

Crouching to his level, Christine embraced him gently. "I might have a few things to say about that."

"Do you forgive me, then?" Christine couldn't help but marvel how the fearsome and commanding tone could turn to uncertain and timid.

"We forgive each other."

"We forgive each other." He repeated. "But you won't forgive my silence, will you, Christine? You know what lies underneath the mask, yet you have returned to me. I don't doubt you any longer."

"I will forgive it, and you need not tell me all. Once you wish to, I will listen." Christine said quietly. "But there are things we must make peace with before we start life anew, together."

"We?" he chuckled, "You need not delude yourself, Christine, I realize it is I who must make peace with things. Very well. I am your servant. I will do what you want to make you happy."

"Does it include making peace with that "hateful woman who you have no urge to call mother"?"

The silence resumed. Erik almost wanted to compliment her for the sly little trap she had caught him in. he had promised her anything she wanted. Must she choose this one thing, he wondered, the one wish he didn't want to fulfill? Making peace with his mother? There was little chance of that. The best he could do was journey to the old house, sadly comment that his mother was far away and he had no means of contacting her, let alone finding her, as he had no other living relatives. And then, after they would leave, the little village of Boscherville would run amok, because an unexpected fire would have risen in an old house… a misfortune quite beyond their understanding or their air.

That would be his making peace with his past, the final act of revenge that would seal a chapter in his life. He would then be a new man, ready to start life anew. For Christine.

Erik withdrew from the embrace. "We will never live as normally as you perhaps desire, Christine." He said seriously. "There will be few certainties in our life together and one of those will be music. Perhaps we will be ever on the move, for you are, as you have said, a diva of the stage… and I have my own artistic ambitions, if you wish to call them that, to fulfill. But you will have all that you wish and I will be happy because you will be. I agree that we will be starting our lives anew – at least me. Happiness has been scarce in my life, understand that. As long as you are mine, I will feel ecstasy for every moment of every day. I promised you the world… I promised I would be good for you. And I suppose good sons return to their mothers, after time." He said, rather dryly as he remembered his mother. "I will do it for you, if it truly is your wish, but know that it is a lot to ask. Only my joy that you truly love me is capable of being equal to the request."

"My poor Erik." Christine whispered, "It will take every day of my life to erase the hurt you have felt, and perhaps even that will not be enough. But I will try and perhaps one day, you will feel more happiness than sadness."

She could see him smile underneath the mask, his mind driven away from the details of what is to come. "I believe in God." he said suddenly, "If angels exist, there must be a God, and an angel stands in front of me. Perhaps He has a twisted sense of humor, but He exists… and right now, He is laughing, because He knows I am forever in his debt."

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AN: Like I said. Mwahahahaha.