Okay, I know I warned you that it might take a while for the next update, but still, I am sorry for the delay! I hope this chapter was worth the wait.

As always, thank you to all for reading, for adding to favorites, putting on alert, and most of all, for reviewing! You all rock!

I do not own those characters, but you know that already. On to the new chapter!

Chapter 10 – Lesson

At 9:00 p.m. that same evening Christine entered rehearsal room 3, as Erik had requested in his note. He was already there, nervously pacing up and down. When he heard Christine opening the door, he turned towards her. Christine almost failed to recognize him, for he wore his lifelike mask. He looked so different, rather handsome.

"You came," Erik whispered, in wonder.

Christine shook her head at the absurdity of the situation. Apparently he had not really expected her to follow his invitation while she had feared that he might not want to meet with her for a lesson.

"Of course, Angel," she said sternly. "For, after all, whatever I might think of you as a person, you are my teacher, ..."

"Don't call me Angel," Erik seethed. The fact that she had reminded him of her less than stellar opinion of him hurt. "I am no angel..."

"Signor Planchet, then?" Christine asked, and remembering that he had signed the note with "E.", she added pointedly, "or Erik?"

Erik closed his eyes. How sweet it was to hear her pronounce his name!

"During our lessons you may call me Erik, should we ever meet in front of others, the more formal address will be required," he instructed her, hoping to hear her use his name "Erik" more often.

"You know this is necessary, don't you?" he continued, while he quickly went over to the door and locked it.

And as Christine nodded, he started rummaging through a bag that was lying on the piano, extracting his normal leather mask.

"Please give me five minutes to change masks," Erik begged.

"You do not really have to wear a mask during lessons," Christine objected, watching him fumble nervously with the leather mask after having removed the lifelike one. "I know what you look like, remember?"

"If in order to reach perfection you have to be in the same room with the likes of me," Erik retorted, "at least you should not be disgusted by my nauseating face."

Christine sighed. As much as he seemed to have changed over the past two years, the one thing he apparently had not yet learned was to accept that his face was not his biggest problem.

"Your face is not nauseating, Erik," she therefore told him. "I know you won't believe me, even though I have proved to you that I do not feel that way..."

She blushed a deep shade of pink, feeling suddenly rather brazen to remind him of the fact that this supposedly so nauseating face of his had not prevented her from kissing him two years ago, not just once, but twice.

"Just put that mask away," she added quickly, trying to steer clear of that embarrassing detail. "Let your skin breathe for a change. I bet that will do you a lot of good. And let's finally get started with the aria. Or do you want to stay here till morning?"

Erik relented. If Christine insisted he should not wear a mask, who was he to contradict her? Of course he would have to put it back on once they were finished. He could not walk home without it.

Erik finally sat down at the piano and opened the score. He glanced uneasily at Christine, to see if she really was showing no signs of disgust at his naked face, but when she gave him an encouraging smile, he began to play.

The moment Erik touched the ivory keys of the piano, his nervousness was gone. As always, music soothed him. And once Christine began to sing, he had no trouble at all to resume his old role as her tutor.

About an hour of concentration and hard work had passed, when he was finally satisfied with Christine's performance.

Christine smiled. She, too, had noticed that her interpretation had greatly improved thanks to his guidance.

"I knew you could help me with finding the right color of voice for this particular piece," she told Erik. "And I have to thank you for agreeing to this lesson despite the way I treated you the other day, when I realized that it is you running this theater."

Erik shook his head. "No, no, Christine," he objected. "I have to thank you for allowing me to help you, especially since this had to happen in such an inappropriate scenario. I did not really expect you to show up and I still do not quite grasp it how you could stand being alone with me in a locked room – after all the atrocities I committed two years ago."

Christine nodded. "I would be lying if I told you that I have been able to put the events of two years ago behind me," she confessed. "Your behavior back then still worries me greatly, and I do not know if I will ever be able to see you the same way I did before. But I am absolutely certain of two things: one, that you are the best voice coach I could wish for, and two, that no matter what, you would never hurt me."

Erik looked away. "How can you be so sure?" he asked. "After all, I tried to force you to marry me, and when I made you change into that wedding dress, even you suspected that I might... you know..."

Now it was Erik's turn to blush, as he implied that he might have wanted to exert a husband's rights over her.

"But you did not," Christine reminded him. "You realized in time that you had gone too far and you let me go. Even in your madness back then, you did not harm me."

Despite her reassuring words Erik still seemed troubled, though, at the thought that he had tried to force her into marriage... into his bed.

"I am not afraid of you," Christine therefore told him. "Because even when you were not in your right mind, you did not hurt me. What I have trouble putting behind me, are all those other actions of yours. The violence you used against so many people, the way you treated Carlotta in order to promote me, the death of Buquet, Piangi's injury, the destruction and injuries you caused by sending down the chandelier, the way you treated..."

She suddenly stopped, unsure how the mention of her former fiancé would affect Erik.

"Your boy," Erik finished the sentence for her, hanging his head in shame.

"I was mad with jealousy," he tried to explain his past actions. "Nadir wants to convince me that it was like a disease, but I do not think that this is an excuse for all the pain and suffering I have caused."

Christine sighed. "You killed people, or came very close to killing them," she reminded him. "And that I cannot forget, as much as I am trying to. I realize that you have changed a lot over the past two years, and that you are not that raving madman from way back then anymore. But whenever I try to put those events behind me and to think of you the way I did before all that happened, the memories resurface. Then I hear Carlotta croak like a toad, then I witness once again Buquet's dead body falling onto the stage, then I watch the chandelier coming down again, I hear the screams of the audience, I see Piangi being rushed to a hospital by the medical personnel, and my childhood friend with a nook around his neck... And then I remind myself of the way you were when I was a child, how you cared for me and taught me to sing, and that in all those years there had been no sign of madness in you, and I wonder what brought it on, and if … even though you seem so changed now, if there is a chance you could become so unhinged again and start acting like you did two years ago."

Erik looked down miserably. "I understand that these memories haunt you," he admitted. "And I know that what I did back then is unforgivable, though, as far as I know, the only person I did kill then, was Buquet, and that was self-defense. But I have to admit that I am just lucky that Piangi survived and that nobody was killed by the falling chandelier. As to your boy, I have to thank you for stopping me at the last moment from murdering him in cold blood."

"Wait a moment," Christine interrupted him. "You said, you killed Buquet in self-defense?"

Erik nodded. "You must believe me," he pleaded with her. "Buquet was trying to catch me, he followed me up to the rafters. Moving around there is dangerous to begin with, even more so, when you have to fight off an attacker. It was either him or me..."

Christine could not face him. If what he had just told her was true, then he was no murderer. Then she had once again misjudged him.

"You did not plan to kill him?" she asked hesitantly.

"Well, I cannot say that I did not think he deserved death," Erik admitted, "for he was a drunkard and a pig, trying to get you girls into a dark corner and have his way with you. But no, I would not have attacked and killed him, if I had not had to defend myself. It was just bad luck that this happened at a time when I was so completely mad, that it was interpreted by everybody as premeditated murder."

Christine nodded. He seemed sincere.

"I know it is hard to believe that Buquet was more or less an accident," Erik continued, "not, when I almost killed Piangi, and put so many lives at risk by bringing down the chandelier, and if you had not..."

He interrupted himself, not wanting to remind her of those kisses she had bestowed upon him. While those were his most cherished memories, Christine would probably feel disgusted at the thought of having had to kiss him in order to free her boy.

"I know I would have wanted to kill him," Erik confessed. "He had everything I have not: youth, attractive features, a title, a position in society, a purpose in life, and you..."

"Erik, you cannot kill everybody you envy for one reason or another," Christine shook her head at his words. "Everybody has different gifts and qualities. Why can you not be happy with what you have got? Why would you rather have what somebody else has?"

Erik laughed. It did not sound happy, it was a bitter laugh, with an undertone of despair in it.

"Yes, right!" he exclaimed, and he almost sounded as mad as he had sounded two years ago. "Why do I not appreciate what I have got! After all, I have the most despicably ugly face in the world, no family or loved ones, my mother hid me away and was ashamed of me, you hate me, I cannot live in the open like any other man, I have to hide..."

"You have your music," Christine interrupted him. "Your intellect and your interest in the arts. You are doing a great job with this theater. I know, it is not easy for you, since in order to protect your identity you have to keep it a secret that you are wearing a mask, but you have already found some ways to deal with this situation, and I am sure over time you will be able to improve the way you can interact with us musicians."

"Also, you showed a great deal of empathy with me, when I felt so lost after my dear pappa died," Christine continued, " and from what I have heard from signor Khan, I was not the first child you befriended..."

"Nadir?" Erik seethed. "What did that meddling Persian tell you?"

"He told me about his son Reza," Christine explained. "I wondered why signor Khan cared so much about you despite all you had done. After all, he left his life in Paris behind to help you get away from that city, where you are a wanted man. That's when he told me you had been his son's best friend, and he also said he felt guilty for having brought you to Persia, but he did not want to give me any details, he just said that you apparently had a very traumatic experience there. That he therefore felt he owed you..."

"That's all he told you?" Erik asked nervously. Christine was finally talking to him and not treating him like the piece of dirt he was. The last thing he needed for her to know were details about what he had done in Persia. She would never forgive him for those murders.

Christine nodded. "He said he cannot give me details," she explained. "Just that it was traumatic for you, and that I should either never learn about it, or learn it from you."

Erik breathed a sigh of relief. At least she did not know about his past as the so-called Angel of Death. And she did not seem to know either how exactly he had helped his little friend Reza.

"So, you see, there is a lot of positive things about you and in your life," Christine continued. "But all you ever see is your face, and because of it you feel somehow inadequate. You compensate this feeling of inferiority with your haughty behavior, by hurting people, and with violence. You try to make others feel weak by manipulating them..."

"No, don't deny it," Christine stopped him from interrupting her. "I have experienced your attempts at manipulating me firsthand, and I have seen how you tried to make the managers give me the starring parts. I know what I am talking about. You have also tried to make me feel inferior by calling me child, when I was not really a child anymore."

"I would like to see you having to deal with such an abomination," Erik interrupted her, pointing at his uncovered face. "Can you imagine what it was like for me as a child to be constantly locked away, because my mother was ashamed of me? She would never even look at me unless I was wearing a mask. She would never hug or kiss me, not even when that was the one thing I wanted for my birthday. A kiss from her. Or rather, two, one for now, and one for later..."

Christine almost felt her heart burst with compassion for Erik, hearing about how poorly he had been treated as a child. She therefore went over to him, putting her hand over his mangled right cheek, slightly caressing it.

"Your mother must have been the most despicable woman on the earth," she said softly. "I cannot even begin to imagine how she could treat you, her own child, like that. Instead of being proud to have such a gifted little boy, she treated you like dirt. I understand that she instilled in you the feeling that you are somewhat lacking, not good enough, inferior to other people. But she was wrong."

Erik barely listened to what she was saying. All he could think of was that her tiny hand was caressing his disfigurement, that she apparently was not disgusted by the abomination that was his face.

"Oh Christine," he whispered.

Christine looked him in the eyes. "Don't let your face define who you are," she told him. "I know it is difficult for you to change that opinion you have of yourself after all those years and the negative experiences you have had because of your face. But it is not too late. You are such a talented, creative person, and I know that you can be warm and caring, too. I bet little Reza Khan would agree with me, if he were still around. Why do you not concentrate on those qualities of yours? Others may be more handsome, but are they as talented in so many ways? Can they relate to a lonely child the way you could?"

Erik sighed. He wanted for that moment never to stop. He wanted to feel her hand on his disfigured cheek forever.

"I believe that you need to accept yourself first," Christine continued. "Your face is unusual, I will give you that. But so what? Other people have to deal with handicaps, too, different from yours, but are they any less problematic? Think of those that are blind and will never be able to appreciate true beauty, or those that are deaf and will never be able to enjoy music. You have all of that, music, art,..."

"Except for love," Erik moaned. "Or at least friendship..."

"Erik, stop saying that!" Christine was getting angry. How could he even think such a thing?

"Have you forgotten signor Khan?" she reminded him. "I am sure he is a good friend to you, and he mentioned Darius as well. The way I understand it, these two have been there for you after... and they are still with you, supporting you, helping you make the transition into this new life of yours."

"And as to love...," she blushed deeply at what she was going to tell him. "I know what you are referring to and I am sorry to tell you, that you are wrong here as well."

Erik looked up surprised. "What..? Do you mean, you...?"

"There would have been a chance," Christine admitted. "If things had been different, if you had not..."

"Despite my face?" Erik asked. "You mean, you could have loved me, if I had not lost it so completely?"

Christine nodded. "I was in love with my Angel, surely you must have noticed that. And when my Angel turned out to be a man..."

"And then I ruined it," Erik sighed. "I scared you, I assumed you would hate me, once you had seen my face, I stayed away, so that you had to turn to that boy, and then I let jealousy get the better of me."

"Yes," Christine admitted. "That's about the way it happened."

"And now?" Erik's voice sounded hopeful. "Is there a way for me to repair the damage I have done? Is there something I can do to make you forgive me?"

Christine closed her eyes. She had asked herself that same question so many times already those past couple of days since she had accepted the job as leading lady. Could she ever truly put the past behind and trust him again, look at him again with the love she had felt for her Angel?

"I don't know," she finally whispered. "I wish I could get over all that has happened. Maybe one day I will, or maybe never. But I would like to have you as my teacher again. Maybe we can do lessons on a somewhat regular basis? There is the beginning of act two, or the duet between Norma and Pollione, that we could go through together..."

"In mia man alfin tu sei... (= at last you are in my hands)" Erik quoted the beginning of the duet she had mentioned. "I bet you have no problems with finding the right expression for that one. That's about the way you must have felt when you first entered my office and realized that I was the artistic director of this theater."

"My feelings then were mostly surprise and shock," Christine replied dryly, "not so similar to what Norma is feeling. Carlo, the tenor, is a sweet guy, and I work well with him. I don't think seeing him in front of me will help me much with the interpretation. But as my teacher you could help me find the right way to convey Norma's emotions at that moment. So, tell me, do you want to teach me again or don't you?"

Erik nodded. Teaching her was better than nothing. At least he could see her regularly and they could talk. Maybe he would one day be able to win back her trust. She had as much as admitted that she once had had feelings for him. So maybe... He did not dare finish that thought.

"Same time tomorrow?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes, Erik," Christine promised. "I will be here tomorrow night as well. And please, promise me that you will think about what I have told you? That you will learn to embrace the positive aspects of your personality instead of constantly dwelling on that face of yours?"

"I promise," Erik told her and he meant it. "Hopefully this promise will be easier to keep than the one I made to Nadir years ago."