A/N: Well, I am a bit disheartened that I haven't heard from more of you regarding the last two chapters. I hope that the first real conversation between Erik and Christine was not a disappointment to you.

To poetzproblem: Thank you SO much for reviewing again. I'm so very humbled that an amazing writer like you is following my little story and is actually enjoying it!

Chapter Seventeen

Christine had lost all track of time. She lifted her head from Erik's chest and tried to read the emotion on his face. "Erik?"

"Hmmm?" Erik replied, seemingly distracted.

"I need to go back to the house now…they will be wondering what has happened to me."

"Oh." Erik released her from his embrace. "I will walk you back."

He offered her his arm, and Christine smiled.

They had walked a short distance when Erik suddenly stopped dead in his tracks.

"What's the matter?" Christine searched his face.

Erik tensed. "This…understanding that we have come to…it…this really changes nothing, does it?" He turned his gaze to her and she could read the sadness and longing in his eyes, though he tried his best to disguise it.

Christine bowed her head. " I don't know. Perhaps our hearts can have peace if we can forgive each other—and I know that we will be better for it." She glanced up at him with tears in her eyes. "But still…I feel as though I'm…trapped."

He frowned slightly, not quite understanding what she meant. He raised a questioning eyebrow. "Trapped?"

"I still feel…as though I never got to truly make my own free choice."

Her statement took Erik by surprise, and he was not sure that he liked where the conversation was leading. "Christine, what are you trying to say?"

She sighed and shook her head. "I guess what I mean is…I know that I am engaged to Raoul…but I am still not certain of my true feelings. It has been a week since we parted, and I have not been able to take a single breath each day without thinking of you." She met his gaze and began to tremble.

"Christine…I do not know what to say," he whispered, stunned—until suspicion grew in his mind. "What is it that you want from me?" he questioned her.

"I want…to learn more about you--to know the man that you really are and not the illusion of you. I want you to be able to forgive me, and I…I want to spend time with you until I know for certain what it is that I feel."

"And what if you do not return my feelings, Christine?" Erik replied grimly. "Then I will be losing you to that boy all over again. What you ask of me is unfair and cruel! How can you honestly stand here and tell me that you do not know what you feel for me?"

Christine stared at him, mulling the thought over in her mind. "I feel as though I never truly knew you, Erik. I only knew you as my Angel of Music. But…I understand if you are not willing to give me this chance," she said sadly, though she truly meant it. I deserve this, she thought, for being such a selfish child. She felt as though her heart had sunk into her stomach.

Erik's gaze burned into her. "I am not the same man that I was. You have five days left here, Mademoiselle Daae. We shall see what happens in those five days."

"Christine!" A voice called to her from the direction of the house.

"I am here!" Christine called back. She turned to Erik. "I have to go. Will I see you tomorrow?" she asked hopefully.

"We shall see. Good night, Christine," he said rather formally, as he grazed her knuckles with his lips. He disappeared into the night as though he belonged to it.

Suzette met Christine outside the house and they went in together. "I was growing worried about you, Christine!" She grinned, "You got lost, didn't you?"

"You could say that," Christine smiled weakly.

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Erik rose early the next morning, feeling well rested. He opened the envelope that he had received from Monsieur Giroux and pulled out several documents detailing a new architectural project that he was to create sketches for. He leafed through the pages carefully, but his mind was distracted. He remembered that he needed to contact Monsieur Renault to arrange his finances with his new employer. He wrote out a note:

Monsieur Renault,

I trust that all of my holdings are in order as they should be. I wish to inform you that I have secured employment with Giroux & Associates, an architectural firm in Melun.

You are to contact them and arrange for my salary to be sent directly to you and deposited into my account.

My employer has been asking for information regarding my surname, and as you are already aware, I have none. I wish for you to contact an attorney immediately so that I may acquire a surname for myself, since it now becomes necessary.

I expect that you shall keep these matters confidential, Monsieur. You will be rewarded for your trouble.

I shall look for a response from you regarding these matters within two days.

Erik

He sealed up the note and reached for his cloak and hat. A trip to the main house was now in order.

There was a chill in the air, and Erik pulled his cloak about him more tightly. You would think I'd be used to the cold, he thought wryly. He increased his pace, making it to the front door of the main house rather quickly. He rapped at the door and Guillaume answered within seconds. "Ah, Monsieur Erik, good morning to you."

"And you. I have a letter which needs to be sent out right away," Erik said, glancing behind Guillaume to see if anyone was about the house at this time of the day.

"I shall see to it then." He took the letter from Erik. "Would you care to come in, Monsieur? The family is just sitting down to breakfast."

Erik bit the inside of his cheek. "I suppose so," he replied, wondering if he would regret it. "But I do not wish to intrude if I am not welcome," he added quickly, remembering that he had not actually been invited by the Laurents.

"Step inside the foyer and I will ask Monsieur Laurent, just to be certain," Guillaume replied, smiling politely at Erik.

Erik did not have to wait long before Monsieur Laurent appeared through the double pocket doors. "Erik! What a nice surprise! Please, come in and sit down. Have breakfast with us." Erik nodded and removed his fedora, stepping gingerly into the dining room. It seems that this is the only room of this house I ever see, he thought, amused. These people in high society certainly do know how to feed themselves—and I do believe my own trousers are growing more snug about the waist!

Suzette was seated to the right of Monsieur Laurent's chair with Amêlie next to her. She turned and smiled at Erik as he entered. "Madame," he said. Christine was seated directly across from Suzette. She wore a simple blue dress with lace on the collar and cuffs. Her hair was pulled back from her face, but the length of it still tumbled down her back. She glanced up at him and her porcelain skin suddenly flushed. There was an empty seat next to her.

Erik's palms began to sweat as he removed his cloak and draped it over his arm, rounding the head of the table toward Christine. "Mademoiselle," he spoke in a rather formal tone. "Good morning to you."

Christine blinked. "Good morning to you as well, Monsieur." She looked down shyly at the table. She felt electricity run through her body as Erik pulled out the chair next to her and seated himself in it, brushing against her sleeve. He placed his hat and cloak on the chair adjacent to him and cleared his throat. He nervously glanced around him before his eyes settled on young Amêlie. She was smiling at him, eyes sparkling. "Good morning, Monsieur Erik," she said sweetly.

"Good morning," he replied, relaxing a bit. "How is the young songbird today?" Erik asked her quietly, a slight smile upon his face.

Amêlie blushed. "I am just fine, thank you for asking. How are you?" She smiled and he immediately knew that she was asking about more than his physical health.

He looked into her eyes very seriously, recalling the conversation between them regarding spiritual matters. "I am well, Mademoiselle. Thank you," he said softly.

Christine curiously observed this conversation between the Opera Ghost and the young disabled girl. She had never seen her Angel interacting with people in the outside world before…at least, not in any normal sort of way. She saw the tenderness in his eyes when he spoke to Amêlie, and she suddenly felt the urge to touch him…to be nearer to him.

She slowly began to move her hand from her lap under the table. She trembled at her own actions—she couldn't believe what she was doing. Her hand drew nearer to Erik's, and he seemed to be completely unaware of it. Christine glanced at the others around the table who were focusing intently on their breakfasts, eyes downward. Will they notice? She knew she was taking a huge risk, but something compelled her…she could not stop herself. Her breathing quickened and her heart felt as if it might burst.

Suddenly she felt Erik's eyes upon her and she froze. She lifted her eyes to his and he gave her a look that made her stomach drop. His gaze was filled with such longing and love that she nearly gasped. He averted his eyes and glanced down at her hand that was now motionless in midair between them. Christine was shaking. Erik met her eyes again and Christine felt his hand brush against hers, sending a surge of energy up her arm. He took his thumb and slowly rubbed it back and forth on the top of her hand, but he did not grasp it. She could feel her face growing hot, and she gazed at him wide-eyed, lips parted. Abruptly, he removed his hand and turned his attention to his food just as Madame Suzette spoke.

"Christine, you look like you are feeling better this morning, ma cherie."

Christine nearly jumped as Suzette addressed her.

"Oh! I…uh…I suppose that the cool air did me some good last night," she replied nervously. She just knew she was blushing.

"Cool air? Ah, yes, a nice walk outdoors can work wonders, I always say," Monsieur Laurent chimed in, still chewing his breakfast.

"Yes. I suppose so," Christine replied, hoping in her heart that it was true.

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After breakfast, Erik had politely excused himself and had returned back to the guest house to work on his designs. He spent several hours there at the kitchen table, and his back and shoulders were growing stiff. He stretched his arms skyward, trying to ease the ache, and his thoughts traveled to his conversation with Christine the night before. So she wants time to know me, he thought. Yet she is still betrothed to that boy. Erik felt a gnawing sensation in his chest. Guilt. "Why should I feel guilty?" he wondered aloud. But he could not shake the feeling. I cannot do this. This…this is wrong. He was surprised at his own thoughts. Has my conscience suddenly materialized?

He stood and stepped into the living room, gazing out the window. What can I do? He prayed silently. Erik fought a war within himself. Part of him wanted to throw caution to the wind and seduce her entirely…but he had attempted that with his Don Juan, and it had completely backfired. He had tried things his own way with Christine. Now there must be another way. If there is no other way, then…then I shall have to learn to live without her. His heart ached at the idea all over again. He hoped that God would see fit to make a way. But why should I even give her another chance? He hated himself for being so weak, but he had to admit the truth to himself. Because…I still love her. Oh God, I love her…and I want her in my life! But this whole situation...the secrecy of it…it is wrong. No…she must decide between us before this goes any further! Satisfied that the matter was resolved in his own mind, he decided that it was time to stretch his legs.

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Christine stepped into the carriage and waved goodbye to Suzette, who believed that she was going into town to purchase a few necessities. Christine had insisted upon going alone, claiming that she may want to stop and visit a friend. She promised to return in a few hours. Confusion settled into her mind as she watched the scenery rushing past the window. I don't know what I'm supposed to feel, she thought. How can I possibly love two men at the same time? She knew she needed a listening ear, but she did not want to speak to Suzette about her dilemma, naturally. She needed someone she could trust…someone who would never gossip about personal matters. A priest.