I want to extend my sincerest apologies to one of our wonderful phic writers from whom I inadvertently chose my Erik's last name. For future purposes his last name is actually Debussy…

Chapter 2

Erik woke in the morning stiff and sore from sleeping at the table the rest of the night. He had set up a makeshift curtain for Christine so she could remove her wet dress and it remained in place as she slept through the night. Her dress had been handed around the curtain so Erik could lay it over the back of the other chair to dry. He had already been too tempted last night and did not want to encourage his passions to interfere a second time. They had already become his body's ruler once; he couldn't afford to have that happen again. He didn't like the notion that his passions had overruled his judgment and couldn't afford to have that happen again. Not when one night of mindless desires could cost him an entire lifetime of love.

As he rose from the chair, he stretched his arms and legs in an attempt to loosen his aching muscles but they pulled back in protest. He looked around and wondered how he had come to this place, not to this room, but to this point in his life. In his wildest imagination, he could never have foreseen something like this happening. From his earliest recollections, he had only known pain, fear, and hatred from his fellow human beings. Human beings, a name too easily given. Animals came closer to the truth. Striking out at anything that they feared or did not understand, or anything that was different from them. And certainly he was different. Given to a band of gypsies by a mother he barely remembered, beaten daily, sometimes to the point where he could see Death, waiting in a dark corner for him to give in, hated, despised, scorned. Until an angel of mercy came into his life and gave him the only freedom and acceptance he'd ever known. Brielle Giry. The only person who had ever before looked upon him as more than a freakish animal to be ridiculed because of a deformity over which he'd had no control. Fate had dealt him a hand worse than death, a God he didn't know had decided he should live rather than die at birth, and mankind had hated him because it was easier than looking at the flaws within themselves. And here, in this room, another angel, this one a gift from a God he barely believed in, except to rage at when his pain and loneliness were more than he thought he could endure.

Now, he must decide what to do about her. Could he keep her with him, subjecting her to the same cruelties he had endured? Or convince her to go with that boy and live a life of ease and leisure? And what of her profession of love last night? Could he really believe, now in the light of day, that everything that happened between them last night was real? Or just another one of the many dreams he'd had over the past year or so about what it would be like to be truly loved by his beautiful Christine. His Christine. He'd told her at the masquerade that she belonged to him! And he thought she did. Until he understood that though he might own her mind, he didn't necessarily own her heart. She'd shown that when she went with that boy. Raoul. Foppish in dress and manners. Spoiled in the expectations that what he wanted, he would always get. He went after Christine as if she were a prize to be won, not a woman with a soul. Only Erik knew her soul. He'd touched it a thousand times through their music. Together, they had melded their souls into one. Every song, every movement, was a bonding that he thought could never be broken. Then came that night on the roof and everything he had believed was shattered. He stood in the shadows and listened as Raoul drew Christine into his web with talk of safety and security. She responded because she'd known him as a child. And because she could see him, touch him. Erik had been part Phantom, part ghost to her, not yet flesh and blood. Not yet someone solid, that she could hold. Deep in his heart, he knew that he would never be that for her. Not completely. He could never take her for afternoon strolls in the park, never sit in a restaurant and enjoy each other's company by candlelight, never have a normal semblance of life. She could never have that with a gargoyle like him. With a face like his, what kind of life could she have? Never a public one of any kind. And that was no life for anyone…except perhaps him and him alone. No, he couldn't believe that Christine would willingly choose a life like that. She had no idea what it was like to live underground, always in the dark. It was a life he had learned to embrace, because he was forced to, not because he'd wanted it. How could she?

There were too many questions and Erik had no answers at the moment, and though this was also new to him, he knew the answers would come in time. Right now, he had a more pressing problem and that was, what to do about Christine. He always thought if he ever had to leave, it would be easy enough. He knew what he wanted to take should that problem arise and had planned for the smallest detail. But even he couldn't plan for Christine wanting to accompany him! A beautiful opportunity had been given to him and now he was afraid it would be a terrible burden. Not because he didn't want her with him, but what was he going to do with her now that she was! She couldn't very well stay in the room all day, every day. There were personal needs to attend to and although the proprietor of the boarding house was completely discreet, they would have to leave the room at some time during the day and evening. For Erik, it was an easy trek back down tunnel. It was hidden behind the dresser and opened by a recessed latch that only he could find. But for Christine, it was different. She couldn't go around crawling in the dirt every time she needed to leave, especially dressed in the only clothing she had, her wedding gown!

He had fully intended to make her his bride, one way or the other at the end of his Don Juan opera. He loved her, she belonged to him, and he would have her, any way he could. And then things changed, she changed and his heart changed and for the first time in his life, he understood the word sacrifice. When she kissed him, it brought everything into sharp relief. He understood suddenly what it meant to let someone be happy, although it could kill one to do so. And it broke his heart to let her go, but he knew, or thought he knew, that it would make her happiest if he did. But that, it seems, is not what she wanted. Last night she had said things his heart had ached for, his mind had only dreamed of. And if it was a dream, he hoped this was still part of the dream and that he would never wake.

He heard a stirring on the other side of the curtain and realized that Christine would soon wake. And then what? Would she regret her choice? He'd told her to make a choice last night and she had chosen him! The choice made his heart soar and his head ache with the thought that she had no idea what choosing him entailed. But she would soon find out, and so would he. His heart had already decided for him. He could never, in all his life, deny himself Christine.

"Erik?" It came as a whisper from behind the curtain. "Erik, are you there?" No longer a whisper, but now a plea, his heart reached out to her, longing to hold her once again, as he had last night. "Erik!" This time it came with a slight panic to it and he rushed to the curtain, stilling his hand at the last moment from ripping it down to relieve her fears.

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She heard him approach the curtain and remembered. She remembered his embrace, when he finally opened himself to her. And though it was only a small crack in the door to his heart, it had been enough. Enough for her to see the some of the real man inside. Enough for her to know she'd made the right decision. The decision to return to him, where her heart and soul belonged. How she could ever have thought to leave in the first place, she had no idea. Last night had proved to her how closely the fabric of their souls had been woven over the last several years. She could barely remember a time that he wasn't a part of her life. He'd been a father, guardian angel, teacher, life's guide and, in some ways, already her lover for more than half her life. Living without him wouldn't be living, it would only be existing. She realized that it had taken the events of last night to open her mind and heart to the truth in her life, and that truth was that she was nothing without Erik. He loved her, and she him.

She wasn't sure when it started, but as she thought about it now, she could see the signs, that she'd never noticed. How his voice had changed over the last few months when he sang with her and to her. It no longer held the tone of teacher to student. It had become seductive and sensual and she was amazed that she hadn't heard it before now. When he had finally shown himself in the mirror and she had gone to him, she felt alive like she'd never felt before. She had taken his hand and it was real! He wasn't a ghost as everyone thought he was. His hand was warm through his glove. And his pull on her as they descended to his lair was all too real as well. When he had lifted her from his horse, he had grabbed her round her waist and she had felt something completely different from anything before. Of course she'd been held in a man's arms as part of the operas she had performed in, but that was simply acting. This touch brought out desire in her. Again when they reached the shore of his lair and he reached to help her out of the boat those feelings resurfaced. Warm, wanting, desires she had never felt before. Not sure what she was experiencing, she focused solely on him as he walked her to his music's throne. It was littered with musical scores, books, pens, inkwells…but the centerpiece was a magnificent pipe organ. The most beautiful she'd ever seen. As she gazed upon it, he began to sing to her and she lost sight of everything around her but him. His voice drew her into him, so much so that, though she was sitting a room's length away from him, she could feel his heart beating within her. Her mind dissolved into a trancelike state as he pulled her farther away from the life she knew and into a life of sensual desires, a life she knew could posses her completely if she only allowed herself the luxury of giving into it.

She knew now that the life he had shown her there was the life she truly wanted. A life of dark beauty and sensual desires, of a heart filled with music, a life of love known and shared with one who knew your soul, who possessed all of you.

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He came to her and took her hand in his and she rose to meet him without thought or care. As he led her around, showing her all of the wondrous things he surrounded himself with, she became more and more lost in the magical world he was weaving around her. At some point in his song, he moved her ahead of him, guiding her by the shoulders to a grotto in the wall, covered by a shear curtain. Everything had been so mesmerizing to her that she had fallen completely into his intoxicating world. When he pulled the curtain back, he revealed a mannequin, which was an exact replica of her wearing a wedding gown. She had dropped all of her defenses to him; every bit of common sense she possessed was gone from her mind as she fell farther into his dream world. But this! What she saw was beyond her imagination! It stunned her, this clash of reality and fantasy and the last thing she could recall was the strength of Erik's arms as she fainted into them.

She wasn't fainting now. She'd matured years in the past several months and now understood exactly what Erik had been trying to show her. He loved her, loves her still, she was sure of it! Last night proved it to her! And though he had shown remarkable restraint with her, she knew too how hard that had been for him. She felt his passion in his every move with her. His hands, his eyes, and the way his lips pressed to hers. She knew he wanted her, completely and wholly and she was willing to give all of herself to him. But he had to be ready to accept her, and she knew that would be hard in coming. He'd been hurt by life so many times…she knew he would continue to survive that. But should she hurt him again, she knew it would destroy him. And she would never survive that either.

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Christine watched Erik's hand as he grasped the edge of the curtain. It was tentative, gentle. She had known that was in him the moment she first touched him and it filled her heart to see it now.

"Christine, are you alright?" he asked, the worry evident in his voice.

"Yes, Erik. I'm fine, just a little disoriented for a moment, but I know exactly where I am now. Where I belong. With you." His heart soared to hear her words and for a moment he forgot his dilemma of what to do with her. She can't stay here with me. This is no life for her…he thought as the nearness of her stirred him.

"Christine, we must talk about what happened last night…your following me and being here now. This isn't the place for you, you don't belong here." He heard nothing from the other side of the barrier that separated them, which was really no barrier at all.

"Christine, do you hear what I'm saying? I have nothing but misery to offer you now, as if I'd had much more than that before the events of last night…" He scoffed at his own bitter sound. He wanted to give her the world but had nothing to offer now except this room. He didn't even have a decent bit of clothing she could wear. Her real trousseau had been left behind when he thought he was leaving her behind as well.

"Yes Erik, we do need to talk and it's better to do so now, in the light of day, where we can see each other for who we truly are. Please come 'round the curtain." He looked round the edge at her to see that she was well wrapped in the bed covers and so he stepped around to stand by her. She placed her hand on the bed and asked him to sit with her.

"Christine, I don't know that sitting there would be a wise thing to do right now." He knew his limitations and to have her this close was trying them to they're fullest.

"Erik, I have no doubt that you will remain the gentleman I know you to be. Please sit with me so we can speak eye to eye, or else you will force me to stand…" She began to lower the covers and watched a brief moment of something close to panic pass his eyes before he slowly sat on the edge of the bed and faced her.

"Christine, this is very hard…for me to be this close to you and not touch you, hold you. You are what I've dreamed of for months now. But it was never my intention that it be like this. I've only ever wanted tenderness and love for you and look at what I've done instead." His sadness made her heart break. So like the little boy he must have been at one time, hoping for love and only being hurt instead.

"Erik, you didn't ask me to follow you. You told me to go, to leave you. Had I not kissed you, not felt the love that was inside you, I would have done so. But I did feel it. I couldn't stay away from you. And so I am here. We are here! Together. Please, don't make me go again. I wouldn't survive life without you now, and I don't think you would either. You know I'm right. The better thing to discuss is where we go from here." Erik looked at this stranger sitting next to him. And in many ways she was just that. He had not seen her in the three months he had refined his plan. Obviously, she had developed into a rather strong willed woman! Something he never expected but was finding rather refreshing.

"Well, I suppose Christine, that the first thing we need to do is get you appropriately attired. You can't live forever in your chemise or a half torn wedding dress." She watched a shadow cross his eyes for only a moment, and then it was gone. She knew it pained him to have nothing to offer her as far as he was concerned, but there were other offerings much more important than clothing…

"What would you propose we do about that? Of course… I could always wear some of your clothing. It wouldn't be the first time I had dressed like a man." She smiled at the thought of Il Muto, when Carlotta croaked like a toad! It was a moment she knew she would never forget. Erik smiled too, obviously remembering the same scene, but then, once again, that dark shadow passed his eyes and she remembered the rest of what had transpired too. She was ashamed and knew her actions immediately following that scene were something she would never forgive herself for.

"Well," he began, trying to remain lighthearted for her sake. "If you'll give me a few moments, I think I can do something to take care of that problem at least." He rose from the bed and walked to the table to pick up his mask, and then to the fireplace where, she noticed, a bell-pull hung to one side. He pulled it and walked back to her. It wasn't but a moment and there was a knock on the door. Christine startled, but Erik walked quietly to the door and put his face to it, looking through the barest of cracks to see who stood on the other side. She rose to peek around the curtain, not sure if she should be prepared to run. When his suspicions were assuaged, he opened the door to a small man bearing a tray with warm rolls, butter, cream, a teapot with cups and a smile so wide, Christine thought his face would break from the strain.

"M. Debussy! Did you pass a restful night monsieur? I have breakfast of a sorts and there is a warm bath drawn down the hall for you and your, um, guest. I am so glad to see you back and safe!" He bustled around the room, almost like a mother hen, placing the tray on the table along with napkins and silverware from where, Christine didn't know. She was sure it wasn't there with him when he entered.

"Claude, thank you. Is the floor empty today?"

"Oui monsieur. I moved everyone after we had talked last night. The floor will remain empty for as long as you like. Is there anything else I can do for you monsieur?" He had a twinkle in his eyes that was contagious. Christine noted that he was very short, a little older than Erik, with a thin build and a wry smile that seemed to never go away. He also seemed a boundlessly energetic man as he bounced around the room; obviously delighted that Erik was there.

"Yes Claude, I need some items of clothing procured, in the same style and size as the ones you supplied me before for my…guest. Is that possible this early in the day?"

"Oui monsieur! I shall be back soon." He winked at Erik as he exited the room and began whistling as he walked down the hall.

Christine had watched the entire exchange with amusement as well as some confusion.

"How is it that this man seems to know you so well? I thought you never left the Opera House. Well, at least very little." She had wandered to the table and sat in the chair Erik had occupied the night before. Pouring tea for the both of them, she placed a cup in front of the other chair and looked to Erik to sit and eat. He walked to the chair, never taking his eyes off her. Even after what he knew to be a fitful night's sleep on her part, she was still breathtakingly beautiful. Would he ever see a day that she was not? In his heart, he knew the answer to that question would always be no.

After sitting, he pondered on how best to answer her question and decided that the story from beginning to now was the best answer he could give. He no longer wanted any secrets between them.

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"I met him shortly after deciding to make the Lair my home. I was wandering the streets late at night, knowing it was easier for me to procure what I needed if I stayed in the shadows. I couldn't wander about in the daylight like others obviously but getting the things I needed after 'business hours' if you will, was not necessarily the way I wanted to do things either. As I passed through an alley, I heard muffled crying and scuffling along with male voices. I had no idea what to expect but what I came upon horrified even me. There were three men holding down a young girl of 10 or 11, one having pinned her in place while the other two attempted despicable things with her. As I came up behind them, one heard my approach and turned on me trying to kill me. I had the upper hand however and dispatched him immediately." As Erik recounted the story, Christine's eyes shot wide at the cold tone of his voice, but her heart cried out in terror for the little girl's plight. "The other two, now realizing that they had met their match in a grown man rather than a little girl, fled the scene. But I had gotten a very good look at them before they fled and their faces were burned into my memory. As I reached down to the girl, she looked up to me and asked if I were an angel disguised against the world." It had pulled so at his heart to realize that someone could think that way of him, even in her terror. "I lifted her asking where she lived. She had enough wits to tell me before the events caused her to faint and I was able to take her home."

Erik pounded on the door of the inn with his boot, while holding the girl in his arms, trying to shield her from the night and her pain. Thankfully, she still had not regained consciousness as he cursed under his breath at the length of time it seemed before the door was opened. Pounding once again, he heard the bolt thrown back and the door was flung open by a small man who looked terrified. Erik pushed past him into the inn, demanding to know where the girl's bed was. The little man said nothing but pointed and led the way to the back of the inn, which looked like family quarters. Erik placed her on the bed and began giving orders for some hot water and cloths. The little man jumped at every word as if he'd been poked repeatedly but moved quickly to obey Erik's orders. Erik took the bowl and cloths and began to administer some first aid to the girl when a woman also entered the room. He realized that this must be the young girl's parents. He said nothing more until he had cleaned and bandaged her wounds as best he could. He then turned to the couple, who stood mute by the door, never having taken their eyes from the scene unfolding before them.

"Is this your daughter?" he demanded from them. "Why was she allowed out at this time of night alone? Did you not think something like this could happen?" But the man and woman just stood there, staring at him as the fury poured out of him in waves. Finally the little man seemed to regain some sense of himself and he took a few tentative steps toward Erik.

"Monsieur? We did not know she was out alone. She was at my mother's caring for her for the night. We did not expect Antoinette to return home until morning." The little girl stirred and lifted her arm to her 'angel', smiling at him with beautiful blue eyes through a bruised and battered face.

"Papa, he is an angel in disguise. God sent him to save me. Please don't be mad at him. He helped me." Erik looked at the little girl and his heart lost its anger. She was so small and frail looking. When he turned to the parents, he realized how thin and frail they looked as well. Then he took his first good look around the room and realized they must live barely above the poverty level. Surely things were not this bad in the city? Where so many wealthy noblemen worked and lived.

"She was supposed to stay with my mother tonight as she can't be left alone. She is old and very ill and my wife and I had been there for days. The inn needed tended to so we came back here and left her with my maman."

"Papa, but that is why I left. Grand maman! I'm afraid she may have died papa! I thought she was sleeping but couldn't wake her. When I left to get the doctor, I was grabbed by those men. They dragged me into the alley and papa, they…they…" and she began to cry great tears of fright and sorrow. Both the man and his wife went to her, surrounding her while their grief melded together with hers. Erik had arisen from the bed at their approach and moved to the door to leave when the little man turned to him, his tear filled eyes grateful and beseeching.

"Please monsieur. You have saved my only child tonight. I owe you everything I have. How can I repay you your kindness?" Erik realized they didn't see his mask. They only saw him, a man, and not a monster, who had helped their family on that dark, sad night…