Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own the major POTO characters. But I own the new plot lines I've written, as well as the supporting characters. But then, you already knew that!

Chapter Twenty-One

Erik had gone back to work on his project, piecing together the parts that Father Michel had brought with him from town. He noticed the sky beginning to grow darker, even though it was only four o'clock. Looks like rain, he thought, as he gathered up most of his tools and brought them into the house, along with the nearly completed wheelchair for Amêlie. Now…it just needs to be sanded down a bit and smoothed out. I hope that she will like it.

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Christine was a long way from the main house when she heard the first loud rumble of thunder. Oh, no, she thought. We'll be caught in the middle of it! She dug her heels into the dappled mare, who was taking her time trotting along. The mare increased her speed marginally, and Christine wished that she had chosen a different horse for her ride. Suddenly, raindrops began to pelt the ground, and she and the mare were getting wetter by the second. She turned the horse around in a circle, searching for the nearest shelter. Behind her, about a half mile, she spotted the white guest house. I cannot go there, she thought. I cannot bear to face him again today. She knew that there was no way she would make it back to the main house before she got herself and the horse thoroughly muddy and soaked, so she decided that she had little choice in the matter. Prodding the horse, she headed for the small house as quickly as the mare was willing to go, which was not enough to keep her from getting completely drenched.

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Erik sat in the armchair by the window, watching the rain falling in sheets outside. He held the delivered letter in his hands and was preparing to open it, when there was a crack of thunder and a loud rapping sound. What in the world? He set the letter down and got up quickly to open the door. Christine stood there, her hair a disheveled and dripping mess, face wet from rain, clothing drenched and sagging, holding the tether to a dappled mare.

"Chris-tine?" Erik choked out, shocked to see her standing there in such a manner.

"Erik! I…was out riding, and I got caught in the rain. Could…could you help me? I can't make it back to the main house in this weather. I…" she looked away as she saw the stunned look on his face harden into a stonelike appearance. I should not have come here. He is still angry with me.

Erik was irritated at first, but then he softened. It must have taken all of her courage to come here and face me after what happened earlier, he thought. "Come in," he said tersely. "Tie your horse to the post outside the door." He motioned with his arm and Christine did as she was instructed. Erik closed the door behind her as she stood inside his house, dripping on the entryway carpet.

"Take off your shoes," he said, not looking directly into her eyes.

She pushed her wet hair away from her face and bent down to remove her shoes, placing them next to the door. "I…I'll get you a towel. Wait there." Erik strode down the hall and returned with a large, fluffy white bath towel and handed it to her at arm's length.

"Thank you," she said, quite embarrassed at having to appear before him looking rather like a wet rag. "I need to…may I use your lavatory?"

"Of course. Down the hall to your right."

Christine returned several moments later, wearing Erik's long, black, velvety bathrobe, her hair loose and resting about her shoulders. He tried not to stare as she came down the hall toward him. "I…I'm sorry, but…my clothes are so wet, that I…I…"

"I understand. It isn't a problem." He groaned inwardly, wishing that he had sent her away. She tempts me even now, and she has no idea. "After the rain stops, perhaps I can ride to the house and have a maid fetch some dry clothes for you."

"Yes, thank you…I would appreciate it very much." She looked down at her bare feet. "M-may I sit down?"

Erik motioned with his arm to the settee and she sat on one end nearest the window, looking outside, her arms folded tightly in front of her. She was extremely nervous, and he could see it. He tried to be hospitable. "Would you care for some tea?" he asked grimly, hoping that she would refuse.

"Tea? Oh, that would be lovely…but, please don't go to any trouble on my account."

"It's no trouble," he lied, walking to the stove and preparing the kettle for the second time that day. "It should be just a few moments." He paced in the kitchen, trying to avoid being in the same general area with Christine. She did not turn around to look at him, but remained silent, studying the scenery out the window.

What do I do now? he wondered to himself. Should I stay here? Shall I go in and sit with her and attempt to make some sort of ridiculous conversation?

"Tell her," came the all too familiar Voice.

No! No, I can't tell her now. I don't want her to get the wrong idea and think that I am giving in to her wishes. He tensed his jaw. I just can't!

Erik waited for the Voice to return in his mind, but it did not come again. He sighed. I cannot stay in this kitchen forever. He slowly made his way to the front room and seated himself again in the armchair by the window. Christine was directly across from him, but she did not turn her eyes from the window to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry, Erik," she said.

"For what?" he asked her curiously.

"For putting you in such an uncomfortable position right now. I did not mean for this to happen. Believe me, I would not have come here if I felt I had any other choice. You have made your feelings quite clear," she said coldly, still refusing to look at him.

"Christine," he spoke softly, "look at me, please."

She shook her head. "I can't. Oh, Erik, I can't! It…it hurts me too much. Your…your eyes—they look right into my soul, and I…" she was crying now.

"Christine," he said again, moving from the chair to kneel in front of her, his resolve crumbling. He touched her chin with his hand and turned her face toward his. "Please, look at me."

She reluctantly lifted her eyes to meet his gaze. "I am sorry for the way I treated you earlier. I…have been trying to deal with this situation in the only way I know how, but I haven't handled it very well, I'm afraid," he smiled slightly at her. "I want you to know something," he spoke gently.

She stared at him, her eyes full of tears, her lower lip trembling. Oh, God, his eyes…I can barely look at them! "Christine," he spoke in a whisper, "I forgive you."

Her eyes widened in shock, and then the tears began to flow again. She suddenly threw her arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder. Surprised and fighting his carnal desires, he held her until her sobbing ceased and her breathing began to return to normal. The teakettle was boiling, and he removed himself from her grasp, standing up slowly. "I'll get you some tea now."

Erik returned from the kitchen with a teacup and saucer. Christine took the tea from him, meeting his gaze with a troubled expression. It seemed to him that something was weighing heavily upon her mind. Dare I ask her what it is? he thought. Perhaps I would be better off not knowing.

Christine sipped her tea gingerly and set it down on the small table near her. "Erik, I spoke with Father Michel yesterday," she began, watching his face for a reaction.

"Yesterday?" he questioned her as he sat down, knowing that the priest had not visited the estate the day before.

"Yes. I…I went to town and I stopped off at the church to see him. I needed a listening ear, and he was very helpful to me," she said calmly, wondering if Erik would be shocked.

He was. "You went to the church? Alone?" he asked, raising his voice. "Why would you go into town unaccompanied, Christine? What did you seek to accomplish by doing this?" He was slightly angry that she would go and see the only man he trusted, without his knowledge. So…the old man was keeping this from me. No wonder he knew so much more than what I had told him!

"Erik, he is a priest, and I knew that he would keep my confidence. I needed some impartial advice, and he gave it," she said matter-of-factly.

"Oh? And regarding what, may I ask, did you receive advice?"

"I sought advice concerning matters of my own heart. And now I know what I must do." She stopped speaking and waited.

Erik was growing frustrated. "If you are going to tell me, then simply tell me, Christine. I do not wish to play this foolish game with you!"

She averted her eyes from his. Reaching for her teacup again, she spoke softly, "I must break my engagement to Raoul."

Erik was stunned speechless for a moment. This cannot be happening. This isn't real. "What…what do you mean?"

Christine took a sip from her cup and set it back down, looking at him again. "I cannot make a decision while I am engaged to him…and I cannot marry someone when I am not certain of my feelings for another. I need…time…to think things through."

Erik nodded and smoothed his wig. "That sounds…wise." He tried to contain himself, but his heart felt as though it might burst. Oh, God! I do not want to raise my expectations for no reason…but might I have a chance after all? No…I am being foolish! How could she ever choose me over that boy? I cannot give in to these feelings.

Christine studied Erik's face and could see that he was fighting an internal war. "Erik." She reached out to touch his hand, and he let her. "I understand that you feel we must keep our distance for now. And you are right…until I have broken my engagement, we must remain as we are now."

"Breaking your engagement does not guarantee that you will choose me in the end, though, does it, Christine?" he stated simply. "If you decide that he is the one you truly love, then I will once again be left alone." Christine winced. "I simply cannot allow our relationship to be…anything different…unless I know for certain that you love me as I love you."

"As you…love me?" Christine asked, slightly surprised. He still truly loves me, after all of this?

Erik glanced quickly at her and looked away, his jaw tensing. He nodded. "Do you understand what I am trying to say?"

"Yes, Erik. I do." She exhaled a long sigh. "Now…may we…talk about other things? I…I would like to know how exactly it was that you befriended a priest," she smiled at him sheepishly.

He laughed. Oh, God, that laugh is heavenly, she thought.

Erik recounted a few of his experiences for Christine, but still could not bring himself to tell her of what he had discovered regarding his deformity. To him, it felt as though they were back in the opera house and they were sharing many of their thoughts just as they had before…before all of this. The rain ceased and he was able to retrieve dry clothing for her from the main house. She changed in the lavatory and gathered up her wet clothing in her arms. "Thank you again," she said softly, standing by the door.

He opened the door for her and untied the horse from the post. "You are welcome, Christine." He reached for her hand and kissed it tenderly. He looked into her eyes and wanted so desperately to taste her lips once more, but he restrained himself. She reached up and caressed his unmarred cheek. "Goodbye, Erik," she smiled.

A/N: I wrestled with this chapter a lot. Well, even if you hate it (and I hope ya don't!), this is the way I could see things happening. So there! –giggles-

To Leanne: Aha! A lurker who has finally revealed herself! I'm glad that you enjoy the story. I am trying to keep Erik in character, but I also believe that he has to change in many ways, for the good of himself as well as Christine. I think that Erik, upon encountering God, would definitely change, with much of the bitterness of the past beginning to fade, being replaced by hope. Still, there are times when he lapses back into his "old self." I think this is realistic. Not even God can change our entire personalities overnight! LOL

To Jania: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I'm glad that you are enjoying it!