I'm getting held up reading another amazing story. Check under my favorites to read it.

Enjoy this chapter!

-Nico

Christine had never been a foolish person. She had always adhered to all of the conformities dictated by gentile society.

The draw of herself to Erik, however, was making her do things she never would have ordinarily.

This was the case at the moment, as she sat atop a shining black horse, conveniently 'borrowed' from one of the Opera Populaire's many carriages.

She rode quickly along dark alleyways and cobble stoned streets, knowing the route to the Opera by heart. She would have walked, but the fear of another attack had brought her to the idea of the horse, which was panting under the fast pace at which he was being led.

Christine barely allowed the steed to come to a complete halt before she slid from the saddle, wincing as she landed particularly hard on her left ankle. Still, she fled towards the huge double-barreled entrance to the Opera, limping slightly.

She kept her blue hood tugged down over her face, heading steadfastly towards the chapel. Lingering Opera staff ambled around the hallways…most were too drunk to notice Christine as she made her pilgrimage to the chapel, and the rest were familiar with her reverent visits to the small, holy chambers beneath their feet.

As her slippered feet hurried down the final stone stairs that led to the chapel, she inhaled deeply, anticipating that Erik would have beat her to their meeting place once again.

Instead, emptiness, and the cold, dank air of the basement chapel greeted her.

She sighed, resigning herself to solitude, pushing away the thought that Erik might not meet with her after all.

Christine kneeled before the somber display of candles, some of which had been lit earlier in the day by others. Gingerly, as she had done nearly every day of her childhood, she lifted the thin lighting-stick and brought a small flame to a candle.

After the flame billowed from the wick, she brought her hands into a prayers pose and closed her eyes.

"Father," she said, jumping slightly as her voice bounced off the cavernous walls. "I need you. Now more than ever."

She opened her eyes, half expecting to see her devoted father before her.

Instead, she saw the somber eyes of the Virgin Mary, forever etched into delicate stained glass.

"What am I supposed to do," Christine asked the frozen image. "For the first time in my life, I am honestly in love with someone." She lowered her eyes to her hands that were now resting in her lap. "And it's not my fiancé."

Admitting it out loud frightened her, but she pressed on.

"And now Athena is with child," she said, her voice hitching on a sob. "Erik's child! He is to be a father…and I can't help but selfishly wonder what that means for me!"

She broke down into full blown, wracking sobs.

"Please, Daddy," she said softly, easing her cheek down to the cool stone floor. "I need you. I need you."

Charles could bear it no longer.

Christine sat upright as a rush of air suddenly invaded the chapel, accompanied by a bright flash of light. When her eyes adjusted, Christine's heart nearly stopped.

Standing there, just as he had looked in the healthfulness of his youth, was her father.

"Hello, my darling angel," he said, his voice like a balm over Christine's wounds.

"Papa?" She whispered, tears leaking into her mouth. She stood slowly, her eyes wide as saucers. "Papa, is it really you?"

Charles smiled. "Yes," he confirmed.

Christine moved towards him and opened her arms to embrace him.

But instead of his familiar warmth and fragrant smell of sweet tobacco, Christine only encountered vapid, swirling mist.

Charles looked at his only child with a mixture of sorrow and love. "I apologize for my lack of flesh," he teased.

"Oh Papa," Christine sobbed. "I've missed you!"

"I've missed you too," Charles said. "But I've never once left your side."

Christine smiled weakly. "Are you lonely, Papa? Are you terribly miserable…where you are?"

Charles scoffed. "There's more than enough people around to keep me entertained," he proclaimed. "You should hear Mozart play up close. It's unlike any experience I've ever had."

Christine's eyes widened even further. "You've heard…you've met…Mozart?"

"There will be time enough for you to discover all that," Charles said, eager to turn the conversation to more pressing matters. "What matters now is what has reduced my darling daughter to tears in an empty chapel."

Christine lowered her eyes. "You heard me praying, didn't you?"

Charles nodded.

"I apologize for my uncouth confessions, Papa," Christine said softly, her cheeks flushing a bright pink. She raised tearful eyes to her father. "But I don't know what to do anymore! I've lived my entire life on a certain path and now it seems I have come to a fork in the road. One path is gilded with security and familiarity, while the other is sodden and dark, with no promises for a protected life."

Charles listened, already fully aware of his daughter's predicament.

"Does it make me a terrible person, Father, to forsake my vow to marry Raoul? Would I burn in hell for taking a father from his unborn child?"

Charles sighed. "Do you love Erik, Christine?" He asked pointedly.

Christine's eyes lowered. "Yes," she confessed. "Yes, very much."

It was time, Charles suddenly decided. She was ready.

"Christine, you have always been a smart child," he began delicately. "So I know that you are aware that things happen in this life that cannot be easily explained."

"The mere fact that I am standing here talking to you only solidifies that belief, Father," Christine agreed.

"There is something I must reveal to you about Erik," Charles continued. "Something that you may not want to believe…something that you may not be able to believe."

"You know Erik?" Christine asked.

"Yes," Charles affirmed.

"Tell me, Papa," Christine implored. "Tell me everything."

Charles took a deep breath.

"Give me your hand, Christine."

"Father, I can't…I mean you aren't…"

Christine was cut off by the sudden shock of electricity that flooded up her arm as her fingertips came into contact with the fog that harbored the soul of her father.

Instantly, and in less than a second, memories and realisms flooded into Christine's consciousness. She saw Erik's childhood, most of which was spent behind the cold iron bars of the gypsy's traveling cage.

She saw herself as a child, singing in the mirror to an unforeseen 'angel'.

She saw her first descent to the 'Opera Ghosts' lair, her hand planted firmly in a masked man's as he led her to what she recognized as the much altered, more comfortable underground of the Opera.

She watched as she kissed Erik while standing in the lake, his face horribly disfigured.

And finally, she experienced the most painful sorrow she ever had as in her mind's eye she witnessed herself being rowed away by a victorious Raoul, leaving Erik howling in misery on the shores of the underground lake.

Christine clutched at her chest, pulling her hand from her father's, effectively ending the memories, resulting in her full awareness of what was actual reality.

"Oh my God," Christine whispered.

"Sometimes, someone sees fit to offer redemption, Christine," Charles pressed on, knowing the emotional distress he had placed upon his daughter. "Your memories now are of a life without the Phantom of the Opera."

Christine clutched at her heart unconsciously. "Papa," she rasped, not knowing what else to say.

"It is a lot to take in, Christine," Charles admitted. "And now that you know the truth, I believe you have a decision to make.

At that moment, footsteps could be heard descending the stairs to the chapel.

Christine raised her eyes to see Erik standing at the entrance, his face full of an unidentified emotion.

"So," Erik said softly. "Now you know."