Hi everybody,

I am sorry it took so long with this update, but I hope this chapter is worth the wait. Once again, thank you all for reading, adding to favorites, putting on alert, and most of all, for reviewing!

I am using a lot of Kay for Erik's back story in this chapter, as well as a bit from the movie. I hope you are familiar with both and will be able to fill in the blanks whenever I have not given too many details. This chapter is considerably longer than what I usually write, even without being too specific about Erik's childhood or his adventures in Italy, for instance.

And once again, keep in mind that I do not own these characters...

Chapter 14 – Confessions 2

When Christine and her aunt arrived at rehearsal room 3 they found the door locked. Christine knocked. She knew that Erik would have worn his lifelike mask to get there, in case he should accidentally run into somebody in the corridors, but that he would change into his normal mask for the meeting with her aunt. He obviously had locked the door in order to make sure nobody other than her and mamma Ingrid would enter and see him with a mask on.

"Erik," she whispered, "it's me and min mamma, let us in!"

The two ladies heard a key turn in the lock, then a muffled voice asking them to enter.

Christine entered quickly, ushered her aunt in as well, then locked the door again behind her.

"Erik, this is min mamma Ingrid, mamma, this is Erik Planchet, my teacher," Christine made the introductions.

Aunt Ingrid looked at Erik, curious to learn what kind of man that teacher was that had obviously stolen her niece's heart. She was not sure what to expect. Erik had been facing away from them when they entered, and was now slowly turning around to greet them.

Erik cleared his throat. "Uh... pleased to meet you," he whispered.

"He is nervous," aunt Ingrid immediately thought, "maybe even scared." She quickly glanced at Christine, who was trying to reassure her teacher with a forced smile.

"She is nervous, too," aunt Ingrid realized. That was bad. She could probably deal with one of them losing their nerves, but not both, and the way it looked, these two obviously had a very strong connection, and if one of them would get out of hands, the other one was sure to follow.

"Christine, darling," she therefore addressed her adoptive daughter, "thank you for making the introductions. Would you now mind leaving us alone? I am sure you will want to turn in early tonight, since you have to catch up on rehearsals tomorrow after missing out on them today."

She almost smiled when she saw the panicked look on both, Erik's and Christine's faces at those words.

"Don't worry," she therefore reassured both of them. "I don't bite, and I am sure neither does signor Planchet. I can also count on you, sir, to see me to the bed-and-breakfast after our meeting, am I correct?"

"Uh... yes, of course," Erik mumbled.

"Well, Christine, good night then," aunt Ingrid dismissed her. "I will see you tomorrow!"

Christine exchanged one more look with Erik, trying to reassure him that he would be safe with her aunt, then left the room, and this time aunt Ingrid locked the door.

She finally had a chance to concentrate on Erik. The man was tall, taller than she had expected, and rather thin. He was also considerably older than Christine, probably around forty, thus more or less twice Christine's age. The visible part of his face was not too bad, she decided, but there was a nervous flicker in his eyes, and he was slightly fidgeting.

"Why are you so nervous?" she finally began the conversation, walking over to the small side table, that was used to taking notes during rehearsals, sitting down and inviting Erik to join her.

"You will take her away!" Erik blurted out. Then, realizing, that he had just given this lady, Christine's aunt, reason to believe that he was an unhinged person, he added, trying to sound more composed, "I mean, she must have told you things... that might give you the impression that she should not be around me..."

Aunt Ingrid smiled. She liked his honesty. "And losing her would hurt you," she stated. "Because she means a lot to you."

Erik nodded. "Everything," he confessed. "She means everything to me. I know she can never reciprocate my feelings, but just having her here with me, being able to work with her, to hear her sing, it means so much to me. If you take her away from me..."

A heartbreaking sob escaped him.

"Be honest with me, should I be concerned about Christine remaining in your presence?" aunt Ingrid continued the interrogation.

"I... I don't know," Erik admitted. Then he looked down. "I guess you should be," he whispered. "I mean, considering my past, all the terrible things I have done..."

"You are honest," aunt Ingrid replied, "which is a good thing in my opinion. So why don't you tell me everything, right from the beginning, and I mean, from the beginning, like your childhood and youth and everything, and not just from the moment you met Christine."

"Everything?" Erik paled. There were so many things in his past that he wished he could forget, so many crimes he had committed himself, so many atrocities others had inflicted on him. How would learning about all that affect Christine's aunt?

Aunt Ingrid nodded. "Yes, my boy, tell me everything. I need to understand you, to grasp what drove you to act the way you did, in order to be able to decide whether I can trust you with my dear Christine. So, if you want me to allow her to stay here with you, tell me everything, withhold nothing. I promise I will be a fair judge."

"There is no way you will allow her anywhere near me, once you know everything," Erik moaned. "I have no idea how much Christine has told you about two years ago, but that was not the worst part of my past. Not by far."

"Well, one thing after the other," aunt Ingrid interrupted him, once again pleasantly surprised by Erik's honesty. "Let's begin with your childhood. Christine mentioned something about your mother?"

"She hated me," Erik blurted out. "She despised my face, she could not look at me without me wearing a mask, and even with the mask on, she would not hug or kiss me!" Once he had started to speak, it was as if a dam had broken, and he recounted all his miserable childhood memories, from his life in the attic, the mask, the fact that his father had died months before his birth, finally he spoke about his dog Sasha and about his mother's new suitor, who wanted to put him in an asylum.

"So I ran away," Erik explained. "But I did not get very far, a group of gypsies caught me and I became a major attraction in their traveling fair, the "Devil's Child" - I had to live in a cage like an animal, they had me sing in front of the audience without my mask on, and sometimes..."

Erik felt like sinking into the ground at the memory of his shame. "Naked," he whispered.

"They had you live in a cage and perform completely naked?" aunt Ingrid asked, horrified.

"Yes," Erik whispered, feeling exposed again at the mere memory of those long ago events. "And after the performance, before my master gave me back my pants he... he... into my … behind..."

He could not get himself to actually say the word.

Ingrid Johannsen was appalled. "He... raped... you?" She asked, to make sure she had understood correctly.

Erik nodded. "Often," he whispered.

He felt himself pulled into a strong, comforting hug. "My poor, poor boy," aunt Ingrid whispered, "I had no idea. I am sorry for making you remember those horrors." She gently caressed his unmasked cheek and kissed him on the forehead.

Once Erik seemed to have calmed down a bit, she asked softly, "how did you get away?"

"I killed him."

"You what?" aunt Ingrid had not expected that, but even though she was shocked at the revelation, in a way she could understand that the abused creature had revolted against his tormentor, once he saw a chance.

"I killed him," Erik repeated. "And ran away. There was this girl, slightly older than me, a ballet rat at the opera. She had been to my performance and had felt compassion. When she saw me escape, she helped me, brought me to the Opéra Populaire and showed me to the cellars, where I could hide. At first she helped me with food and stuff, but later I learned how to get provisions by myself. I found that place near the underground lake that Christine has surely told you about and made it my home. Antoinette, that was the girl's name, and I became close, like siblings. At first I hid because I feared that somebody would want to find me and punish me for killing my master, but later on, I thought it was better to hide my abysmal face from the world above and to remain underground."

"And you have been living there ever after, until you met Christine?" aunt Ingrid asked.

Erik shook his head. This lady, Christine's aunt had shown him more compassion already than most people ever had, she deserved to learn the full truth, even if it meant that she would certainly take Christine away.

"A few years later, one day Antoinette met a young man that she fell in love with. She did not have time for me anymore, and I felt lonely," Erik confessed. "So I left the Opéra. I went to Italy..."

He told aunt Ingrid about his time as Giovanni's apprentice, he spoke about Luciana, how she seemed to be interested in him – and how it ended.

"You see, my mother could not look at my face, and neither could she. I brought upon her death..."

Aunt Ingrid patted his shoulder and shook her head. "No, boy, you could not foresee how she would react. Her father, on the other hand, he should have known his daughter better, he should have known that it was not a good idea to tell you to show her your face. And it was just poor coincidence, that she was leaning onto that weak part of the balustrade and fell to her death. That was not your fault. Did her father blame you?"

Erik shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted. "I ran away, I was so convinced I would be considered responsible for her death, so I ran."

Aunt Ingrid sighed. Running away from any problems was never a particularly good idea, but she could understand that Erik's abysmal early life experiences had made him see this as his only option – if he did not want to be caught and imprisoned, caged again. She began to understand that Erik's life had been a series of horrors during his formative years and that maybe his very unique life experiences justified cutting him some slack and granting him extenuating circumstances.

"Where did you go then?" she asked again. "Back home to Paris?"

Erik once again shook his head. "I went east, to Russia, I had learned some magic tricks and I performed as a magician, that way I could also wear masks, which made me look more mysterious... after a few months, a high-ranking Persian approached me, offering me employment with the Shah, and I accepted. Imagine, I would be an honored member of his court, I could live in peace, I would not be pestered because of my face, I would make more money than I could ever have dreamed of... so I went with him."

"Of course," aunt Ingrid agreed. "I can understand that you would have been pleased with such a great opportunity!"

"At first it went well," Erik continued, "I performed my magic tricks, and when they learned that I had experience in masonry and architecture, I was asked to build a palace for the Shah – and a torture chamber."

"A … you built what?" asked aunt Ingrid, shocked.

Erik looked down. "A torture chamber. And I had to use it. I became the Shah's official executioner. They called me the "Angel of Death"...

"You killed people, tortured them, so that they suffered a painful, slow death?" aunt Ingrid was not sure how she felt about this confession. Was it really wise to give in to her instincts and trust this man despite his past?

Erik nodded. "I did that. At first it made me feel powerful, and I thought it was only fair that after everything I had been through I could now make others suffer in a similar way... but..."

"But what?" aunt Ingrid asked, nervously. She was beginning to fear that this man should not be allowed around her girl after all, not even if a separation meant heartbreak for Christine.

"When I finally realized what I was doing, I had no way of getting out of it, they forced me to kill more and more people..."

"But you did get away in the end," aunt Ingrid stated the obvious, again more inclined to cut that man some slack now that she saw how much those memories haunted him. "How did that happen?"

"Once I had finished the palace, the Shah realized that I was the only one other than him that knew about all the secret passages of the building, and thus decided I had outlived my usefulness. He tried to kill me."

"You managed to escape?" aunt Ingrid guessed.

"The man who had originally hired me helped me escape, because he was just as disgusted by the turn of events as I had been, and he felt responsible for having brought me there and put into this position. Of course this cost him his own job and he had to leave his home country as well."

Aunt Ingrid began to understand. "Your friend Nadir Khan?"

Erik nodded. "Yes, Nadir."

"So he saw something good in you despite all the terrible things you did at the Shah's court," she speculated, "since he thought you were worth saving." And she wondered if maybe this Nadir was right in trusting Erik. After all, he surely knew the man rather well?

"He probably helped me because of his son," Erik guessed. "And I think he felt guilty for having brought me there in the first place."

"Signor Khan has a son? And a wife as well, I assume?" aunt Ingrid asked. That Nadir had a family was news to her.

Erik shook his head. "Not anymore," he explained. "Nadir's wife died giving birth to their son, and the boy, Reza, he was sickly, he had a terminal illness. He was such a sweet little boy, and so terribly afflicted..."

"You felt a certain kinship with the boy, since he was different from others as well," aunt Ingrid guessed.

Erik nodded. "Yes," he confessed. "Reza and I became friends despite the huge age difference. His friendship was the one thing keeping me from losing my mind when I had to commit..."

Aunt Ingrid sighed. Once again she weighed the terrible things Erik had done against his obvious compassion for the sick child. Was there more good or more bad in this man?

Erik looked down. There was something else he had to tell Christine's aunt and even though he was still convinced that he had done the right thing, this one action of his was one he dreaded to confess more than others.

"Reza got worse," Erik continued. "He was in constant pain and we knew that he had not much longer and that the rest of his life would be filled with excruciating pain, so we... Nadir could not do it, so I..."

"You gave him peace," aunt Ingrid realized. "You spared your little friend more suffering."

"I gave him something that made him pass peacefully. He fell asleep in my arms never to wake up again." Tears were streaming down Erik's face now at the memory of Reza's little body turning stiff in his arms.

"Nadir Khan knows?" aunt Ingrid inquired softly.

Erik nodded. "He thanked me for helping his little boy," he said. "That's why I think he helped me escape and is still supporting me all those years later, he thinks he owes me for having done what he could not bring himself to do and for saving Reza from terrible pain and suffering."

Aunt Ingrid was beginning to rethink her opinion about this man again. How could it be that this one act of mercy, probably one of the most compassionate things this man had done in his life, still troubled him so much? Had this one killing made him realize how enormous his crimes under the Shah's order had been?

"Nadir did make me promise that I would not kill ever again," Erik interrupted her thoughts. "A promise I could easily make, since I was haunted by the faces of those I had killed and made suffer, I still have nightmares on occasion, and yet... I came so close to breaking my promise two years ago... first with Piangi, I hurt him worse than I had intended, when I knocked him out so I could take his part in the play and sing with Christine on stage, and then with her... that Vicomte, my lucky rival... "

"You did not kill Raoul de Chagny, though," aunt Ingrid reminded him, "and he was not your lucky rival either, remember, Christine broke up with him a few days later."

"I probably would have killed him," Erik confessed, "if Christine had not kissed me. I was so... how shall I put it, I was mad with jealousy, with fear of losing Christine for good, and I was enraged, because he had tried to capture me, … but there is no excuse for my actions then..."

"You are jumping ahead again, boy," aunt Ingrid reminded him, now eager to learn the rest of Erik's story. "After you escaped from Persia with signor Khan's help, did you finally go back to Paris – or is there something else you have not told me yet?"

Erik shook his head. "No, I went home. To Paris, to the Opéra Populaire, to my old home underground. Antoinette was still there. During the years of my absence, she had gotten engaged to her young man, had married him, had had a daughter. When I came home, she had just been widowed, her husband having died in an accident. Her little girl, Marguerite, was about five or six years old. I think it was an absolutely terrible moment for me to come home. She had just lost her husband, was unsure how she could support herself and the child, and then she had to deal with me as well, with my nightmares and my terrible memories. I know that she was greatly worried about myself then. That's when I became the Opera Ghost. In order to help her, I sent my first note to the manager who was in charge then, informing him that my good friend was the best choice for the vacant position of ballet mistress... I could convince him."

"Madame Giry! That girl that helped you escape from the gypsies was her!" aunt Ingrid finally put the last piece of the puzzle together. "Of course, her daughter's name is Marguerite, even though everybody calls her Meg..."

Erik nodded. "Yes, that's her. And a few months later, she got another charge, a new girl entered the ballet dormitories, an orphan, who had just lost her father."

"My Christine," aunt Ingrid guessed.

"Yes, I noticed her a few days later, when she was alone in the chapel, praying for her dead father, imploring him to finally send her the Angel of Music, so that she would not be so alone anymore after her dear pappa had left her. I sensed that this small child knew suffering and pain, maybe not quite as well as I knew them, but that she was broken as well. Not as broken as I was, at least not yet. But she certainly was in danger of going down a dark path of desperation and depression and since I knew from my own experience how this feels, I decided to help her, so I spoke to her and became her Angel of Music..."

Aunt Ingrid smiled. Despite all the horrors this man had inflicted upon others, he still had felt compassion for the lonely child, just as he had felt compassion and a certain kinship with the little Persian boy Reza. There was obviously still a lot of good in him, despite everything he had been through.

"You cared for Christine for several years and taught her how to sing," aunt Ingrid continued. She had learned that part of the story from Christine. "Yet you continued to pass yourself off as the Angel of Music for a rather long time..."

Erik nodded. "Because of my mother. Because of Luciana. I did not think Christine would be able to accept me any more than they had if she knew the truth about my face, but it was obvious that she needed somebody, so I became her Angel of Music. Antoinette of course knew, but she did not object. I think she hoped that the two of us would be good for each other. And in a way we both profited. My nightmares did not trouble me quite as much anymore, and Christine got out of her depression as well."

Erik then went on to retell everything that had happened in Paris, from Christine's debut to the show down in his lair. To aunt Ingrid's relief his story matched what she had already learned from Christine. It was therefore obvious that he was honest about it and did not try to paint himself in a more favorable light.

"And then one day she turned up at my opera house here, auditioning for a part," Erik ended his confession. "At first I thought she had somehow found me and wanted to inform the authorities about my whereabouts, but I quickly learned that she was just looking for a chance to perform again. So I helped her. And as Nadir advised, this time I played with open cards and let her know who she would be working for, if she accepted the job offer. For some reason she decided to stay..."

The last words were spoken as if in wonder. It was quite clear to aunt Ingrid that this man loved Christine deeply – and that it was difficult for him to believe that anybody could as much as tolerate him because of his face. Her heart broke for the man sitting next to her, for the unloved and abused child he had been, for the atrocities he had been forced to commit by a cruel monarch, for his lacking self-esteem caused by all these previous experiences. She understood that he needed Christine and her love and that he would most certainly give himself up completely if she took Christine away. But she also realized that with Christine at his side he could redeem himself and after all he had been through, she decided he deserved a chance.

She smiled at Erik. "To be honest, you are not the kind of man any self-respecting parent, aunt or guardian would want to befriend her girl. Not by far. But...," she paused for effect. "There are a few things in your favor, your honesty for once. And the fact that your love for Christine is genuine. Can you promise me that from now on you will lead a respectable life and not revert to violence any more? And is there a chance that you may still be brought to justice one day for whatever you did in Persia or Paris?"

Erik sighed. "As to the authorities... I guess if anybody in Persia or in Paris knew for certain that I am still alive... but I have been declared dead in Persia and they found a decayed corpse near my home in Paris a few weeks after the events …. so the Phantom was officially declared dead there as well. Of course I must still be careful, which is why I do not want it known here that I have to wear a mask. And regarding promises, it is easy to make them, but much harder to keep them," he confessed. "I thought I would be able to keep my promise to Nadir and I came very close to killing both Piangi and the Vicomte. But I am trying. I know that Christine had feelings for her Angel, before she knew about my true identity. I do not want her to be ashamed of those feelings because of my conduct. I am therefore trying to become a person she could be proud of having once loved... "

Aunt Ingrid once again pulled him in a tight hug. "My poor boy," she said, "I understand that it is not easy for you, but I see that you are trying. If you continue the way you are doing right now, working a respectable profession, not breaking any laws, not resorting to violence anymore, I will allow you to court Christine properly. Maybe not today, give her a little more time to accept that you are trying to change, but in a few weeks' time, start a normal courtship. Yes, I know it won't be easy, since because of your handicap you cannot take her out for dinner or dancing, but I am sure you will find ways."

"Court Christine?" Erik stammered, staring at her as if she had suddenly grown a second head. "Surely I would scare her to death if I did such a thing. I mean, after everything I have put her through two years ago..."

"Yes, court her," aunt Ingrid replied. "Do it the right way this time. And as I said, not right now. Wait a little bit longer, till she can be reasonably certain that you are a changed man. There is one more condition, though..."

Erik glanced up, suddenly filled with dread. "Of course I will not try to force her to marry me," he promised, scared that maybe he had not convinced Christine's aunt of his changed ways after all.

"I know that you won't repeat that mistake," aunt Ingrid told him, then continued, "but I must insist that you tell her everything that you have told me right now, before you propose."

Erik shuddered. That condition was like a death sentence. "It is already highly unlikely that she would accept my proposal," he whispered, "but if she knew everything..."

"She will understand you better," aunt Ingrid explained. "And your case is nowhere near as hopeless as you seem to think. Maybe I should be concerned about the two of you after all you have told me, but I know that my girl cares for you deeply, and just like your friend Antoinette I have a feeling that the two of you might be good for each other. So, yes, court her, propose to her, and if she accepts, I promise the two of you will have my blessing."

"You would... allow me... assuming that Christine?" Erik could not believe his ears.

"Yes," aunt Ingrid simply replied. Then she looked at him. "And now, son, will you show me?"

Erik panicked. "Show you? My face? You know how my mother, how Luciana reacted to it?"

She nodded. "Yes, and Christine does not react to it like that, or does she? Neither does your friend Madame Giry, right? You said she had seen your face during a performance, and she still helped you... Trust me, son, I can handle it."

"Son?" despite Erik's panic it finally hit home that she had called him son.

Aunt Ingrid smiled. "It seems you are just as much in need of a mother as Christine was when she showed up at my doorstep two years ago," she said. "And I am sure that soon you will be my son-in-law or nephew-in-law or whatever anyway. For I know that nobody will love my Christine more than you do and she does care for you a lot as well. So, please, son, let me see your face."

Erik sighed. He hesitantly reached for his mask and removed it, after closing his eyes. At least he would not have to witness her shock and revulsion at seeing his shame. To his surprise, he felt soft fingers, tracing the outline of his deformity.

"My poor, poor boy," aunt Ingrid whispered, "I cannot even begin to understand what you must have suffered because of your face, a mother unable to look at you, cheering crowds laughing at you, a sadistic monarch manipulating you into doing unspeakable things by promising you a normal life despite this face... "

And she hugged a now crying Erik, comforting him, letting him cry, watching his thin chest heaving with heart-breaking sobs. They sat like that for a long while, until Erik finally calmed down.