A/N: Ok, wow, only 5 more chapters to go after this one. I'm still having withdrawal symptoms, sometimes I open up my word document and stare at it, wishing I could write more.
This chapter has less of our favourite leading couple, I'm afraid, but it was important to me nonetheless. I couldn't leave some of the characters dangling! I hope you guys like this resolution in this chapter as well.
Masked Man 2: YES HE PROPOSED! It's going to be the wedding next, and then a nice happy ending (:
marial0789: Those silly ballet rats hehehe. And yes he is!
TierneyMacDonald: She doesn't know about it yet, but soon!
Aria of Life: Aww, thank you so much! It means a lot to me that you feel this way about the story (: I'm so glad you have enjoyed it so far, because I had so much fun writing it.
Acrobatic Butterfly: Thank you for leaving a review! It makes me really happy to see new reviewers, and I'm glad you left one! Hopefully you'll be persuaded to leave one for the final chapter, just to let me know your closing thoughts? Hehe. In any case, I'm glad you like the story! (: And gosh I wish I could write a sequel, but school just doesn't give me any time to do that, I'm afraid ):
Guest: Yes, I thought it was a super cute proposal!
BroadwayHopeful23: I know! I was excited to post it up as well haha!
ErikLover2283: This name seems more familiar to me than Samantha, haha! And I'm glad you liked the chapter!
Kitkat: Hehe thank you!
Guest: I love writing sweet scenes (:
Lydia the tygeropean: Thank youuuu (:
E-man-dy-S: Hehehe I thought it was cute, too. You're welcome!
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Chapter 60: Making Amends
Paris, 1899
"It all feels very nostalgic, does it not, Angel?" Christine asked as she smiled faintly. The pair were sitting in one of the rarely used practice rooms, the door locked firmly. "We used to have practice secretly in one of these very rooms in the past."
"Yes," Erik agreed. "But back then, I was behind a wall, and you, Christine, were terrified of what you could not see."
She laughed a little. "I was a fool back then. But in any case, why am I meeting you here? We have not had lessons for a long time."
"Ah, Christine, I need your help." Erik reached into his bag and brought out a manuscript, handing it over to her. "This is my new book."
She looked at the cover and her eyes gleamed. "Amélie-Rose?" She asked, laughing. "Angel, you have turned into a romantic."
He scowled at her, and she laughed again, before flipping open the book eagerly. There were rough lyrics scribbled below some of the notes in the pages, and she hummed the melodies under her breath.
"The book is due for release soon," said Erik, "and the manager of the publishing house wants me to hold a small, exclusive concert to debut the book. It's all a lot of bother, but it would mean a lot more publicity. I told him not to bother; you know I detest public appearances—"
"Oh, but it would be perfect!" Christine said, waving the book at him. "Angel, more people would be able to hear your music! Wouldn't that be lovely? I think it's a splendid chance."
"You're beginning to sound more like Amélie with each passing day," he grumbled. "I cannot make it through a single day without hearing her or Antoinette nag me about how I should be grateful for all the chances I am being given now. I even shudder at the thought of meeting Antoinette along the corridors."
Christine looked surprised, but she laughed. "You tell jokes now, Angel. You have changed."
He smiled slightly, the corners of his mouth tilting upward slightly. "We merely never had the opportunity to tell each other jokes before, Christine. There was neither the time nor occasion."
She shrugged, for it was true, but there was not much use dwelling on the past any longer. She gestured to the book. "The help you speak of… do you intend me to sing during your concert?"
He nodded. "It would be very good exposure for you, Christine. I know you have the voice, and I am confident that you will impress the audience."
"I will do it," she said. "You knew I couldn't refuse my teacher."
"Thank you, Christine," he said, the relief apparent in his voice. "The manager of the publishing house threatened to make me sing the songs myself if I could not find someone to sing it for me."
Her eyes brightened. "Oh, but that would be perfect!"
"Do not even think of the notion," he warned. "Agreeing to a public concert is just about as far as I can go at this moment."
She laughed, but sobered quickly. "In return, Angel… will you do me a favour? Will you meet him?"
"Him?" He looked at her intuitively. "The vicomte?"
She nodded sadly. "Angel, I do miss him so, but I cannot forget what he did to us during Don Juan. I still remember the screams, the sound of the gunshot, and… the… the blood."
His face tensed, but his voice was gentle. "Ah, but Christine, that was all… in the past. Just as many have forgiven me for my acts in the past, you too should forgive the vicomte."
"He knows you are working here. He heard the rumours… saw you walking around… He wants to meet you," she whispered, her voice tortured. "He told me he wants to offer an apology. I am not sure if he is sincere about it, but perhaps…"
"I will do it, if only to ease your burdens, Christine," he shrugged. "It does not mean that much to me. I hold no grudges toward your vicomte."
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"No!"
"What do you mean by 'no'?"
"I mean it exactly as it is supposed to mean, Erik! No, you cannot meet the vicomte!"
"Why not?" He asked mildly. "There is no harm in doing it."
"The last time you met him, he shot you!" She hissed fiercely at him out of the corner of her mouth, looking warily at the carriage driver in case he had heard her.
"The vicomte is meeting me this time to apologise; I hardly think he would be bringing a loaded pistol." He said reasonably, patting her hand.
"Don't you dare give me that patronising tone, Erik," she scowled at him. "I do not trust him. I'm coming along this time."
"If the vicomte attacks me, then you can be sure to protect me, my little rose. But there is no need for you to be there, for I'm sure I can handle his attacks." He teased. "Come now, let us not argue. We have almost reached our destination."
"Where are we going? You have not told me yet."
He merely smiled at her mysteriously, and did not answer, shrugging instead. When the carriage came to a halt before a house some time later, she looked at him with wide eyes, and he laughed. She bounded down from the carriage before he could help her down, and he followed, amused. She turned toward him with her hands clasped together.
"Are we buying this house?" She smiled hopefully. "Oh Erik, how did you find a house that looked like this! It is exactly as I've always pictured it to be!"
He drew her closer and kissed her on the forehead. "It is already ours, Amélie."
If possible, her eyes grew even larger. "Already ours?"
"I could not resist," he admitted. "I wanted to buy it before anybody else got their hands on it. I wanted to ask you to marry me after I'd brought you to see the house, but that plan was foiled."
A bright smile spread slowly across her face. "Can we go inside?"
Her excited tugging on his hand made him grin despite himself, and he pulled out the brass keys from his coat pocket to unlock the front gate, then the large wooden door of the house. She had already exclaimed in excitement over the rose bushes in the garden and the neat lawn, and when she entered the house, he could feel her happiness beaming out from all around her in a bright aura.
"Would you like to see all the rooms?" He held his arm out to her and she took it cheerfully. He showed her through the rooms, and she paused in each room to exclaim over something, or chatter excitedly over the plans she had for that particular room.
"This room has to be the music room!" She declared, when he showed her into a large room just off the living room, with floor length windows that opened into the garden that ran along the side of the house. "We could put an organ in that corner, and a table for you, and…"
He could not stop the smile from spreading across his face as he observed her flitting about the room, talking and pointing out parts of the room to him. His heart thudded a little unevenly as she turned back to smile brilliantly at him.
"Erik, are you listening to me?" She waved a hand over his face.
"I am, my little rose, I am." He reached out a hand to cup her face. "I was just thinking about how surreal this is—standing here, in a house we own."
"I am glad, Erik," she told him solemnly, and kissed him. "I couldn't be happier."
He laughed, and brought her out of the room to show her the rest of the house.
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Christine waited on the front steps of the opera house, fidgeting with her gloves and straightening her skirt anxiously. When she caught sight of the familiar blond head weaving through the crowd toward her, she offered him a small smile in an attempt to cover up her nervousness.
"Christine," he said as he stood before her, relief upon his face.
"He is waiting at a small teahouse in town for us," she told him, taking his arm.
"Will he accept my apology, do you think?" Raoul asked, and for a moment he sounded like the little boy she had met on the beach, all innocence and bright sunlight. She looked up at him sadly.
"Does his forgiveness mean that much to you, Raoul?" Her eyes were filled with regret. "For you should not have done what you did, in the first place, then."
"I was a fool," Raoul said with remorse. "I let my jealousy cloud my eyes, and I refused to see reason or even listen to you when you tried to defend him. In my mind, there was only a need to see him destroyed, because I thought he posed some harm toward you."
"I know, Raoul, I know," she said sadly. "And I am touched, and grateful, that you cared for me enough to make sure that I was safe and protected. And yet, I faced no danger whatsoever from my Angel, and you refused to see that. I was torn between the two of you."
"You have to know that I am sincerely sorry for that, Christine." He sounded agonised. "Christine, if I could turn back time—"
"But you cannot," she said firmly. "Ah, we have arrived now."
She stopped outside a little teahouse and gestured toward the door. The two entered, and she led him to a little table in the corner where a man sat, dressed completely in black, a hat pulled low over his face.
"Angel," she greeted him warmly.
The man stood, and removed his hat to allow them a glimpse of his white mask, before clapping it back on and gesturing for them to sit. Raoul stood still for a moment, hardly able to believe that the Opera Ghost was standing before him, in broad daylight in a teahouse. Raoul sat rigidly as the Opera Ghost poured some tea for them.
"Good day to you, monsieur le vicomte," the man said amiably.
"Good day…" Raoul trailed off, unsure of how he could address the man.
"It is Erik Chevalier now," the Opera Ghost said. "But Erik is fine. It is what I have been called all my life."
"Erik," Raoul said slowly. It felt strange to be putting a name to this mysterious spectre's face, for all this time Raoul had seen him merely as a madman to be put down.
"Yes, the Opera Ghost has a name," Erik said softly, looking amused. "And after all this time, monsieur le vicomte, the Opera Ghost was but a human man, with his own flaws."
"I… would like to extend my sincerest apologies toward you," Raoul said. "I was… I did not think clearly, and I was wrong to have deceived all of you."
"And tried to murder me, too," Erik added. Raoul stiffened uncomfortably, his face turning red, but Erik waved a hand dismissively.
"I am merely teasing, monsieur. One cannot turn back time, and we shall let the past remain where it is meant to be—in the past. Christine asked me to meet you today for you proclaimed your wish to apologize. I shall not hold grudges, and you have my forgiveness."
Raoul was red with shame, for the man he had so easily proclaimed a madman and monster was sitting before him, giving his forgiveness as easily as if Raoul had asked him for a franc, when it was Raoul who had attempted to take his life so many times.
"I did not understand," Raoul blurted out. "I did not understand Christine's fixation with this unknown, mysterious man whom she claimed to be her teacher, and when it was revealed that you were the spectre who had been tormenting the manager, I put it in my own stead to remove you."
"How could you have understood?" Erik shrugged. "I must admit that my methods in reaching out to Christine were not… appropriate, but I do not blame you for not understanding. After all, monsieur, you were raised in the nobility, in a rich household with nothing to want for. You grew up, coddled and treasured as a son, and you must have had little to no experience with the other side of society. I do not expect you to understand my life, nor my experiences. We are all different men, monsieur, shaped by our experiences and how life has treated us. You will never fully understand my intentions and my actions, just as how your life was but a distant dream for me as I huddled in the shadows of the opera house as a boy, cold and hungry."
Raoul opened his mouth to speak, but Erik held up a hand. "It matters not. The similarity between the two of us was that we both had someone we wanted to protect with all our hearts. How can I blame you, when I might have done the same in your position?"
And then he stood, brushing crumbs off himself, and reaching for his cloak. Christine protested, but he shrugged. "I shall leave the two of you here, for I am sure you must have much to talk about. My forgiveness is willingly and easily given, and we shall not mention the past any further."
He marched out of the teahouse, a forbidding figure, and Christine watched him go.
"Thank you for arranging this meeting for us," Raoul said quietly and pensively. "It did mean a lot to me that I could apologise to him personally."
"I am glad, Raoul," said Christine. "For it has lifted a burden off my shoulders, now that the two of you had a chance to speak to each other civilly."
"He was much more than I'd ever expected," Raoul said sombrely. "I'm not sure what I'd expected, but he was a better man than I could ever be. His forgiveness… I have not earned it, and will never truly deserve it, but still he gave it willingly."
"He has lived a hard life," Christine said, looking at her smooth and soft hands. "I did not understand it at the start, either, and only saw the surface of what he was. But I knew his good intentions, and I knew his dreams, and that made me see. It was what I tried to make you see, Raoul, but you were blind to everything back then."
"I was," he agreed. "And I am trying my best to see beyond what my foolish eyes tell me now. Christine, oh Christine. Will we ever be able to put this past us? Will we ever be friends again?"
"Yes, perhaps," she smiled at him tremulously. "Someday."
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A/N: Well, only 5 more weeks to go! Please do read/follow/favourite/let me know what you think in a review! xx hazel