Ha, double whopper today! The last chapter of my previous story and a new chapter for this one. Thank you to all of you that have already checked out this new story, especially to those who have not only read, but also added to favorites, put on alert, and most of all, to my first reviewers: You Are Love, Filhound, MarilynKC, Leona (guest), pansire, PhantomFan01 and shanyhwll. I am glad you all like the story so far! I hope you will continue to do so and stick with it till it's completed! Your support truly means the world to me!

Now on to the next chapter, and keep in mind, I do not own those charaters... sad, but true!

Chapter 2 – ...Can Turn to Love...

Her Angel – no, Christine corrected herself, the man, the man, who had pretended to be her Angel – gingerly reached for the mask, then turned around so he faced away from her and reattached it to his face. Once he felt properly covered, he turned to her again.

"Come," he rasped, "we must return. They will be looking for you already and wonder where you are."

Christine noticed how he fought to control his feelings, and she also thought she detected a hint of desperation in his voice. Her heart sank. Had she truly ruined everything, the trust they had shared before, their friendship? Could nothing of that be salvaged? Had she hurt him so badly?

"You want me gone," she murmured, feeling miserable. "You cannot forgive me for what I have done. It is all over now." And she felt tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"Do not cry," she heard him whisper. "Please, Christine, do not cry! I am not going to harm you, you must believe me! I see now how wrong it was to bring you here, do not fear, I will make things right again and bring you home. You can forget me then, forget all that happened here, pretend it was only a nightmare..."

Christine looked up at him then and saw such raw pain at the bottom of his eyes that it hurt her almost physically to see him like that. "I am not afraid," she managed to say. "I understand now. It was wrong of me to pull off your mask like that."

When he did not answer, just continued to look at her with those expressive eyes that now seemed to hold all the sadness in the world, she continued. "I am sorry," she pleaded with him. "I do not know what came over me. I behaved like a spoiled brat, with no sense of tact and decency. I should have realized that there was a reason why you were covering your face like that. I should not have invaded your privacy the way I did... Is there really no chance you can forgive me?" She finally screamed. The thought that she might now lose him because of her own stupid actions, was driving her insane.

"You... you do not want to run?" he asked, the incredulity very obvious on his face and in the sound of his voice. "You... you think I must forgive you?"

"Of course, Angel," Christine blurted out, then looked down in embarrassment. "I am sure you have a name," she realized. "I should not call you Angel. Would you therefore please tell me how you want me to address you?"

"Erik." The moment the name escaped him, he bit his lips. How could he have said that, revealed such intimate information to her, asked her to address him by his given name, as if... as if...

"Erik!" Christine beamed. "What a beautiful name! I would love to call you Erik from now on!"

"You...," Erik swallowed. He was not sure he had understood her correctly. "You do not want our acquaintance to end?"

"Of course not!" The look of wonder on the visible part of his face was so endearing, it warmed her heart. "Erik, you have been my best friend for years – well, I mean, my Angel has been my best friend, but that has been you all along, has it not?"

Erik nodded. "But that was before...," he mumbled.

"Before I even knew that you are a real person and not an angel!"Christine finished the sentence for him, giving it a sightly different meaning than he had intended. "You did so much for me, you helped me deal with the loss of my father, you taught me to sing, and yesterday,..." She suddenly blushed and looked to the floor as she remembered the song he had sung for her when he had brought her to this place of his, a song about night and feelings, and music and... love. Was it possible that he had feelings for her? Or, more to the point, would she want him to have such feelings?

"That was before you knew about … this!" He pointed to his mask. "Before you knew that it was no angel, but a demon that had infiltrated your thoughts and your mind, corrupting you in every way..."

"You are no demon," Christine whispered. "I understand now, why you might think of you in such a way, why you are hiding part of your face behind that mask. Even though I have not really had a chance to get a glimpse of it..."

She interrupted herself as she saw the pain return to the bottom of his eyes. "You are far too fast for me," she therefore continued lightly, trying to change the mood. "I swear to you, I did not see it, though I guess from your reaction that it is bad and that you have suffered a lot because of it."

He looked away from her in shame and whispered, "my own mother could not bear the view of the monstrosity that passes for my face. Right after I was born, she put a cover on it, before she even dressed me properly."

"How cruel of her!" Christine exclaimed. "She should have loved you even more because of it! How could she do that to you!"

"You were telling the truth, you cannot have seen it," he commented. "Or you would not talk like that! You would run from me screaming, if you had an idea what horrors lie underneath that mask."

Christine shyly reached for his hand. "Look at me," she begged. "Look me in the eyes and see that I am speaking the truth."

Erik was shocked as he felt her little hand reach for his. How could she still want to touch him after all she had learned about him today? But obediently he turned around and looked into her beautiful eyes.

"I cannot guarantee that I would not find your face ugly, hideous or maybe even scary," she said. "For I have no idea what is wrong with it. To judge from your reaction it must be really bad, though, but..."

She smiled at him encouragingly, "but does it change who you are, the kind of person you are? Are you suddenly not the man anymore that comforted me as my dear Papa passed away, that brought music back into my life and taught me to sing? Are you not my friend and teacher any longer, just because I learned that there is something wrong with your face?" She looked away, embarrassed, as she continued, "do you not want me in your life anymore, because I know now that your face is flawed?"

He suddenly was on the floor, at her feet, clutching the hem of her skirts to his masked face. "Oh Christine, ask a drowning man if he wants to be thrown a life-saver, ask the one dying of thirst in the midst of a desert if he wants a bottle of water! I would want nothing more than to have you in my life now and always, but I cannot ask that of you!"

Christine sank down to the floor next to him and laid her hand on his shaking shoulders. "Last night," she began shyly, "when you sang to me, was that because you... you wanted to tell me...?"

She was shaking nervously herself now, waiting for his answer. Would he tell her now what she wanted to hear, that he was in love with her, hoping she would allow him to court her?

"It was a dream," he whispered. "Forgive me for that, I hoped, I thought, but that was preposterous, you would never... never ever..."

"Love you?" Christine asked, encouraged by his obvious discomfort to say the word.

He hung his head. "Forgive me for hoping you might," he whispered.

"Erik," Christine said, relishing the sound of his name. He had not said it directly, but she knew now that he loved her, and that knowledge filled her with joy. "Erik, you must have realized that I have had feelings for my so-called Angel for quite some time, that I was dreaming of him coming to me as a man..."

He nodded. "That's why I thought..." he mumbled. "But everything has changed now..."

"Really?" Christine asked him pointedly. "I will admit that things are slightly different now. For one thing, I have behaved towards you like a spoiled brat and treated you badly. I could not blame you if you had lost all trust in me. Of course, things have changed for me as well, for now I know that my Angel is really a man, and one with quite a temper," she added with a smile. "I have learned you have to hide your face to the public, which is a somewhat unexpected detail, but other than that, have things really changed? Are we not the same as before, are we not friends any longer?"

Erik sighed. "You are not offended that I hoped … that I ...love...?"

Christine shook her head. "Why would I? Were you offended when you realized that I wanted my Angel to be a man?"

"That is different," Erik objected. "You truly are an angel, every man would be flattered if you had feelings for him, but I..."

"You, Monsieur, are a very kind and warm-hearted person," Christine reminded him, "and the best music teacher I could have wanted!"

"A teacher," Erik's voice sounded bitter. "That's all I am."

"Erik," Christine cooed at him. "Give me time. Give us both time. After all, we have only just met. Yes, I know, we have known each other for years, but then, I know all about my Angel, but I know next to nothing about Erik, the man. And you... you have only met me in the capacity of a student, a protégée, so far. Who knows if you will like Christine, the woman?"

Erik looked at her questioningly. "What are you trying to tell me?" he asked, confused.

"That we need to spend more time together," Christine boldly suggested, "not as Angel or teacher and student, but as a man and a woman. That we need to know each other better in order to determine if what we are hoping for... I mean, if it is possible!"

"You would … would give me a second chance to woo you?" Erik asked, "even though you know about my predicament, about my inability to lead a normal life, to have a normal profession, after you have seen my temper?"

Christine gave him a confused look. "Why on earth are you saying that? And what about your profession, are you not a music teacher?"

Erik shook his head. "No, no," he wailed. "There is one more terrible secret I have to reveal to you! I do not have a profession, that is, I could excel in various areas, but because of my face nobody would hire me!"

"But you must earn your living somehow," Christine commented, looking at the clothes he was wearing that were of the highest quality.

"I am... the... Opera Ghost," Erik confessed.

Christine's eyes widened. "The... you are what?" she asked.

"I am the one known as the Opera Ghost," Erik repeated contritely. "I am the one writing all those notes telling Lefevre, and now those two new clowns how they should run the theater..."

"You!" Christine exclaimed. "You are the genius that has saved the theater from going bankrupt a few times already? Mme. Giry always says that without those notes the company would be lost!"

Erik nodded. "And I am also the one, who plays pranks on everybody to make sure my demands are being met," he confessed. "I even dropped that piece of scenery on Carlotta yesterday..."

"You did what...?" she asked. "Erik, you could have killed her!"

He shook his head. "She was in no danger," he assured Christine. "I had planned the trajectory carefully so as not to harm her. I only wanted to scare her.."

"So that I could sing," Christine whispered, as understanding dawned on her.

"Yes," Erik admitted.

"Oh Erik," Christine was shocked and moved by that confession at the same time. "Even though you assure me she was in no danger, you must promise me that you won't do anything of the sort again. Not even for me. Least of all for me. How do I know now if I would ever have been considered good enough to sing if you had not done that?"

A faint smile, which Christine found very endearing, briefly played across Erik's mouth. "Was the audience's reaction not proof enough for you of your worth as a singer?" he asked.

"Still," Christine insisted. "Promise me now that you won't do anything like that again. Advise the managers as you have done so far, and ask for a decent salary in return, but do not do anything that could potentially harm another person. Promise me, Erik, will you?"

He looked at her. This seemed so important to her, and the way she gazed into his eyes and pronounced his name... He was putty in her hands. "I promise you that, Christine," he assured her.

Christine smiled. "Thank you," she said. "Unless there are some other dark secrets you want to reveal to me, I think you were right, when you said earlier that people will wonder where I am. Maybe you should bring me back to my dressing room now."

As she noticed his face falling at those words, she quickly added, "only for now, Erik. I do want to see you again soon, and I look forward to getting to know you better, not just as my teacher."

When he heard her talk like that, Erik's mood improved. "You are right," he admitted, "I should bring you back. In fact, I am surprised that Antoinette has not come looking for you yet!"

"Antoinette?" Christine inquired, "As in... Mme. Giry? Does she... does she know you?"

"Of course," Erik chuckled. "She knows it is me that has been teaching you, and she knows about me living here and my role as the Opera Ghost. In fact it was her who brought me here into this sanctuary."

"How?" Christine asked.

Erik shook his head. "That is a long story," he said, "I will tell you another time. Or maybe, you ask her about it," he added. "I am afraid, we really should get going now," he reminded her then. "It takes a while to get up to the Opéra..."

Christine nodded. "Just one more question," she begged. "Would you tell me your last name as well?"

"Givenould," Erik replied. "My full name is Erik Charles Givenould."

Xxxx

Erik brought Christine back to her dressing room. They quickly said good-bye and he promised to meet her there in the evening for a voice lesson and some more private conversation.

"You will wait for me here?" Erik asked for the umpteenth time.

"Of course, Erik," Christine promised. "At five, before the performance, I will be here. I am looking forward to it!"

When he had finally left her and closed the mirror behind himself, Christine quickly slipped out of the dressing room and made her way to the dormitories. Of course the other girls were all up by now and had probably noticed that she had not been back all night. "I will have to say I fell asleep in my dressing room after the performance, since I was so exhausted," she thought. It did not seem too plausible, but it was the best Explanation she could think of.

Christine had not quite reached her destination, when she ran into Mme. Giry. "Christine, thank God, you are back," the ballet mistress exclaimed. "The managers have been asking for you repeatedly already. I told them you were still sleeping after last night's triumph, but..."

"The managers?" Christine frowned. What could they possibly want from her? "Did they say why they want to see me?"

Mme. Giry shook her head. "No, though I have a feeling it might have something to do with the new patron, the Vicomte de Chagny..."

"Raoul?" Christine asked. "He came to my dressing room yesterday and wanted to drag me to supper, but even though I was kind of thrilled to see him again after all those years, I did not want to go out with him. So much time has passed, and we do not really know each other anymore." She did not want to say how the way he had stared at her cleavage had made her uncomfortable.

"Well," Mme. Giry told her, "I met him again later last night, he was banging at your dressing room door, which was locked, asking you to let him in. When I asked him to calm down he said something about fearing that somebody was in there with you, taking advantage of you, since he had heard a man's voice coming from your dressing room. I said you were with your teacher." She looked Christine into the eyes. "That was the truth, was it not? You were having a voice lesson?"

Christine blushed. "Not quite," she admitted, "though it was my … it was Erik."

"Erik?" Mme. Giry frowned. "So he has finally told you who he is?"

Christine nodded. "Yes," she said, "and I am glad he did. We did get off to a rough start, but there is a chance now."

Mme. Giry gave her a sharp look. "You are not frightened?" she asked.

"No," Christine replied. "Just … excited, that my Angel is not an angel after all, and he.. he is … so..."

Mme. Giry smiled. "I am glad you still consider him your friend, now that you know," she said wryly. "He is at heart a good person and has suffered enough rejection because of his face."

"Is it really so bad?" Christine asked. "I mean, have you seen it?"

Mme. Giry nodded. "Yes, my child, it is very bad, but it is not his fault."

"I know," Christine agreed, "and I have told him so."

Mme. Giry eyed her quizzically. Why did she have the feeling that the girl was not telling her everything? There was no time for such speculations, though, for the managers had made it clear they needed to see Christine as soon as possible.

"You need to get changed quickly," Mme. Giry therefore reminded her foster daughter. "Messieurs Firmin and André should not be kept waiting for you any longer than absolutely necessary."

Xxxx

Twenty minutes later Christine stood in the managers' office. "You wanted to see me?" she asked politely.

"Ah yes, Mademoiselle Daaé," Firmin said, looking up from his paperwork and staring her up and down as if he was trying to imagine what exactly it was the Vicomte saw in that brawny slip of a woman. "It has been brought to our attention that you refused an invitation by our honored patron last night, is that correct, Mademoiselle?"

Christine looked down. Apparently Raoul had complained about her. "Raoul... I mean the Vicomte de Chagny, graciously offered to take me to supper last night," she admitted, "but I was too exhausted after my first performance, and I had an appointment with my voice coach, so I had to decline," she finally managed to say.

"This is not, I repeat, not going to happen again," Firmin informed her. "The Vicomte supports our theater with his money, we have to thank him for his generosity. If he again asks for your time, you will therefore graciously accept his invitation and be at his disposition. You will do everything in your power to make him happy and to keep him that way, is that clear? Everything."

"Everything?" Christine asked, not quite sure she understood what was asked of her. "What do you mean,everything?"

"Just what I said," Firmin replied with a lecherous grin. "Do whatever he asks of you."