Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom. And I also don't own a beach house. Or a Mercedes. Or anything else really big and expensive! Now on with the story!

Chapter Thirty-Six

"Please, at least let me take you back to the shop, Christine…it's the least that I can do after…" Raoul closed his eyes and swallowed, bowing his head in shame. "I understand why you won't be staying for supper, but I simply must escort you home."

"No," Christine replied, her face and voice completely devoid of emotion. "I will go alone."

Without another word between them, Christine climbed into the awaiting de Chagny carriage and breathed a ragged sigh of relief before bursting into tears again. She stared out the window at the darkening sky. The days were growing shorter as winter approached, and it made Christine think of events surrounding her father's death. How is it that everything has gone awry? Why couldn't I have had a normal life, with my mother and father, happily living in Sweden? Why did I have to lose everyone who was important to me, Lord, why? Hot tears traced their paths down her cheeks and she was relieved when the carriage arrived at the seamstress shop at last. She quickly wiped the wetness and salt residue from her cheeks, trying to muster a smile while she thanked the driver. She approached the storefront, knowing that it was only a few minutes before five o'clock, and Madame Dubois was about to lock up for the day. The older woman spotted Christine outside the door, letting out a cry of surprise that was audible through the thin glass pane of the window. The lock clicked and Madame Dubois opened the door, smiling.

"How are you feeling, dearie?" she said in an uncharacteristically kind manner. She gazed sympathetically at Christine and touched her on the shoulder.

"I'm…feeling a bit better now, thank you for asking." Christine hoped that the older woman wouldn't notice that her eyes were a bit puffy and red from crying. She needn't have worried, because Madame Dubois was, as usual, in a hurry to get home.

"Well, then, I'm glad to hear it, though I was expecting that you might not return this evening. Tomorrow is Saturday, of course, and I usually work half a day. I'll be here just before eight o'clock, but you can sleep in if you like. After your fainting episode today, I think it might be a good idea," she chuckled. "I've put some more food in the kitchen for you, so help yourself. It should be enough to last you more than a few days." She smiled and threw her cloak over her shoulders, stepping through the kitchen to the back door. "See you in the morning." The old wooden door closed with a creak and Christine was left alone with her thoughts. Her mind immediately began to replay the frightening scenario with Raoul at the estate, making her at once claustrophobic and anxious. "I can't stay here," she spoke aloud. She removed her shawl and raced up the steep staircase to her room, retrieving her heavier cloak.

Closing the back exit firmly behind her, she stepped outside and hailed a cab in the front of the shop.

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Erik had been sorting through his sketches earlier in the day when another package had arrived from Monsieur Giroux. He had opened it, glancing at the contents, stunned by what he read. His firm had been hired by the Viscomte de Chagny and "those incompetent fools" as Erik had referred to them, the managers of the Populaire. I am to make sketches for portions of the theatre, he sighed. The great chandelier came to mind, and he felt deep regret for the destruction that he had caused. He hadn't intended to destroy his home, nor the livelihoods of others, by setting fire to it…he had merely wanted to cause a diversion so that he could escape with Christine. But none of that matters now, he realized. What's done is done, and I cannot change the past. Still, I wonder what that boy would do if he knew that I was to be one of the architects in charge of the project! He stretched languidly and rubbed the back of his neck, intending to bathe before heading into town to see Christine, when something out the window caught his eye.

A dark cab was slowly making its way down the dirt road to the guest house, and Erik quickly put on his wig and mask, wondering who could be coming for an unannounced visit so near the dinner hour. Perhaps it is Father Michel…I certainly hope that nothing is wrong. He stepped to the front door and opened it as the vehicle came to a halt. The cab door opened and his heart leaped in his chest when he saw that it was his Christine, dressed in her dark cloak with a gray dress beneath it. What on earth is she doing here? A smile crept to his countenance. Perhaps she has decided that it was her turn to surprise me, he thought amusedly.

Christine reached into her cloak and pulled out some money, paying the driver quickly. She turned around and caught sight of Erik's broad form standing in the doorway, a smile upon his face. She wanted to return the smile, but she knew that he would discern her true temperament regardless. Sometimes, I believe he knows me better than I know myself, she marveled. She hurried up the steps toward the door, stopping just short of him. "Christine?" He searched her face, and his smile slowly faded. "Something is wrong. Come inside." He held the door for her and she entered without a word.

He closed the door behind them quickly and turned to see Christine removing her cloak and seating herself in the armchair by the window. Her demeanor perplexed him, and he silently tried to discern her emotions. Doubt began to seep into his mind. Surely she hasn't changed her mind about us. He cursed himself. Why must I always rush to the worst possible conclusions? "Ma cherie," he spoke tenderly, "has something happened to you?"

Almost immediately, Christine covered her face in her hands and began to weep softly. Erik rushed to her side, kneeling and wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "Christine, please, speak to me. You're…you're beginning to alarm me!" He began to tremble slightly, knowing that something awful must have happened for her to behave in such a fashion. However, his trembling was not only from trepidation, but from the familiar sensation of anger bubbling within his breast. Whoever has upset her will pay dearly for what they have done! Almost as quickly as the thought had come, a swift rebuke followed. He had grown to recognize the voice of the Holy Spirit over the past few weeks and had spent late nights in prayer and in the study of God's Word, as Father Michel had prompted him. He found that he was beginning to notice subtle changes in his own temperament. However, his anger was still quick to flare, and he wished that the Lord would change him overnight in that regard. He shook her gently by her shoulders. "Christine!"

She uncovered her face and stared up at him, a mixture of fear and sadness in her eyes, mingled with love. "Er-Erik, I saw Raoul today."

Erik's expression hardened and he attempted unsuccessfully to keep his voice even. "What has that boy done to you?" he growled ferally.

She shook her head. "Oh, Erik…I don't know where to begin." She began to cry again, and though Erik was frustrated with her momentary puerility, he patiently waited, stroking her upper arms to comfort her as she cried. At last, she began to sniffle and calmed her breathing. "Madame Giry and Meg came into the shop today, not even knowing that I was working there, and I was overjoyed!" She paused, seeing Erik's shocked and pleased expression. "And…we went to lunch at a café nearby and I told them…about us, Erik." Erik's delight turned quickly to concern, but she continued on, trying to ignore his abrupt changes in emotion. "I told them that I had ended my engagement to Raoul, and that I was in love with you, and that we had plans to marry in the future."

Erik couldn't resist asking, "Did Madame Giry happen to…say anything about me?" He smiled slyly, and Christine nodded. "She wants you to get in touch with her…she is anxious to see you again. And she also seemed a bit…angry with me."

He nodded in understanding. "Because you left me, I assume."

"Yes." Christine stared at him, surprised. "How did you know that?"

"Monique and I have been friends for quite some time, mon ange. Long before you came to the Opera, she was helping me to survive in the dank cellars. She took pity on me and loved me very much as a mother would…always being protective of me, and wanting nothing more than my happiness. I will be forever in her debt. And how does little Giry fare?"

Christine chuckled lightly at Erik's term for Meg. "Meg is well, but I must say that she was shocked to hear about our relationship." Christine paused while Erik laughed in amusement, her expression again becoming grave. "Raoul arrived unexpectedly, and he brought with him some…information."

"He what? Was he following you?" Erik snorted in disgust. "What kind of information could that boy possibly have that would concern you?"

Christine turned her gaze away from him and stared at her hands, twisting them in a nervous fashion. How can I say this delicately? she wondered. I can't. There is no easy way to say it…I had best just come out with it straight away. "He…he has apparently obtained some information about your…your past."

Erik froze, barely breathing, as he contemplated the possible meaning of this statement. No…is it possible? What am I thinking? Of course it is possible! I should have known that she would find out about my sordid past eventually. "Christine…I am aware that there is nothing good or redeeming about my past, so you may as well tell me what you know."

She still refused to look at him. "He…he showed me a paper that referred to your time in…in Persia. Oh, Erik, I remember some of the stories that you used to tell me about that place, but I never knew how long you were really there, or…or why you were there. Is it true, Erik? Did…did you really kill and…torture all of those people?" She looked into his eyes then, practically pleading with him to tell her that it was a complete fabrication. He thought for a moment, and prayed silently for the appropriate words to say.

"Mon ange," he sighed, "you are aware that I was raised with no love at all. I have already told you of my mother and how she abandoned me to the gypsies." He tried to maintain his composure. "I…I escaped my captors with the help of Madame Giry, and as I grew up in the cellars of the Opera, I read many books about places all over the world. I decided that I would travel and see the places firsthand." He squeezed her hand gently then, and furrowed his brow, as if the mere remembrance brought him pain. "When I went to Persia, I learned many things…not the least of which was how to be an effective assassin. The leader of the country found out about my 'talents' and offered me a position with him. Part of my job was to entertain the people in the royal court by performing magic tricks and also…by designing creative and painful ways to punish persons who had allegedly committed crimes against the government." He lowered his chin. "I was exactly what you think I was, Christine. A murderer for hire. And I was good at it. I actually used to enjoy it." She stared at him in horror, and though he did not meet her eyes, he could sense her expression. "Yes, it's true, as sickening as it is. And now you must understand…when I told you that God had forgiven me of all of my past sins…this is what I meant." He looked up into her frightened brown eyes and continued in earnest. "I have had nightmares for so long…and the night that the Lord came to me, I had envisioned in my dreams all of the faces that I had so brutally murdered. They came to torment me, and I thought that I would surely die. But then…His voice came to me, and I knew that I was forgiven."

Christine was stunned at Erik's honest admission. Her mouth had gone dry and she was shaking. She could feel the warmth of his hand grasping hers, and she tried to remind herself that this was the man she loved more than life itself. Blessed Jesus, help me! May I not hold against him what You have already forgiven! She had no idea what to say, so she simply reached up with her free hand and caressed his cheek.

He exhaled and relaxed into her touch, closing his eyes. "Forgive me, Christine. I…I am not an honorable man. I have never been…but with the Lord's help, I am trying. I often fear that my past will haunt me forever." She watched his face contort into a pained expression and his breathing became ragged. A stray tear trickled down his cheek, and she wiped it away with her thumb. "No, Erik," she rasped. "It is not up to me to forgive. Christ has already forgiven you, and I have no right to condemn you, my darling. It is I that must ask forgiveness of you."

He stared at her, in awe of her words. "For what, Christine? For having doubts about a man who has murdered countless innocents along with the guilty? No, my darling, there is nothing to forgive. I will truly never be worthy of your love."

"Shhh, Erik. I am not worthy of your love. I was the one who left, and who had no idea that I was in love with the man who had cared for me for several years of my life! There is so much good in you—and I will be proud to take your name when we become one."

"Oh, Christine," Erik groaned, leaning in and pressing a fervent kiss to her lips. "Thank you. I love you," he whispered shakily, his eyes still brimming with tears.

Christine smiled back at him and slowly removed his mask. He was surprised at first, but chose not to resist her. She leaned in and pressed slow, tender kisses to the ravaged side of his face, releasing tears of her own. "I love you more every moment, Erik. How is this even possible?" she whispered into his right ear.

They embraced for several minutes, until Christine recalled her horrid afternoon with a shudder. I have to tell him, she admitted to herself. She cleared her throat and met his gaze. "Erik, when I heard this news, I…I was in the café and I fainted." She blushed, clearly ashamed of her own weakness. He placed his finger under her chin and searched her face, concerned. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I am now, but…when I awoke, I was in Raoul's carriage," she added, squeezing her eyes shut and steeling herself for the expected outburst of rage. Instead, she was met with silence. She opened her eyes and stared at Erik, whose eyes were blazing.

"And what happened then?" he pressed her, with clenched teeth.

"He…he insisted that I go to the estate and he said he would have his physician examine me."

"And what did the physician say?"

"Well…he…never actually came to see me. I got there and decided to have a bath, and when I…" she stopped, a warning sounding within her. She knew that he would surely seek to kill Raoul for his actions, but she also knew that Erik was to become her husband, and he had a right to know of Raoul's advances.

"Go on," Erik remarked, losing his patience by the second.

"I got out of the bath, and Helene—the maid—was there and she had laid out a horrendously overdone frock on the bed," she chuckled nervously. "I asked her if she had a clean dress that I could borrow, as I had decided to go home immediately and refused to wear such a formal dress. She left to fetch me this one," she said, looking down at her dress, "and…" she blushed and her cheek twitched slightly. She sighed in frustration, blurting out the words. "And Raoul came in, while I was…in a state of undress…"

Erik jumped to his feet, causing Christine to cry out. "He WHAT? That sick, spoiled, pitiful excuse for a man! I cannot believe that he would dishonor you that way!" He balled his hands into fists and began to pace across the front room. "What did he do then? Try to have his way with you?" he asked sardonically. He halted in the middle of the room when he saw the look of horror on her face, realizing that it was in fact true. "No!" he roared, his face turning an obscene shade of red.

She shuddered and wrung her hands in her lap. He knew he had frightened her, and he softened a bit, rushing quickly to her side once more. "My darling," he spoke sincerely, taking her hands in his, "did he hurt you?"

Her face twisted into a visage of pain, and she began to weep. He gathered her into his arms and began to rock her with her head against his chest, as if she were a child. At last, she spoke. "He has lost his mind from grief. He tried to…touch me, and make me feel something for him again." She closed her eyes tightly.

"What do you mean…he tried to touch you?" Erik asked uneasily.

"I mean that he…he tried to…to seduce me, Erik," she whispered hoarsely. "I have never before seen the look in his eyes that I did today. It frightened me…he was not the sweet and gentle man that I have always known."

Erik exhaled and tried to focus on helping Christine through her pain rather than on the murderous rage growing within him. At once, he realized that Raoul was experiencing what he himself had known as a constant companion for much of his adult life: lust… powerful, unyielding lust for someone that he believes he can never have again. Oh, how well I know the pain and destruction of such an emotion, he thought. It seemed to him that he hadn't felt the sensation since he and Christine had confessed their true feelings to each other. He knew at last that possessing Christine's body was not truly what he had wanted from her before, although he had convinced himself at the time that it would fulfill him. It was her love that he wanted…a shared love and acceptance between them that made lust pale in comparison.

"Christine," he whispered, "thank you for trusting me enough to tell me what happened. I know that you were afraid of what I might do, but I promise to you now that I will not raise a hand against the boy."

She stared up at him in shock. He laughed darkly when he saw her expression. "I know what he is going through, mon ange. He is a man in love…and a man in love will go to desperate measures to win his beloved's heart, will he not?" He smiled a knowing half-smile at her, and she snuggled deeper into his chest. "I know," she replied. "But…I don't ever want to be in the same room alone with him again."

"No one is going to force it upon you, Christine." He was lost in thought for a moment. "I am sorry that I wasn't there to protect you when you needed me," he said, frowning.

She took his face in her hands. "Erik, you are just one man. You cannot be everywhere at once." She smiled. "But the Lord was with me, and I knew that He was there. I was crying out to him in my mind the entire time…and I was also thinking how much I wanted to be with you. I want to become your wife, Erik…very soon. I need to belong to you, and you alone."

Erik chuckled. "Mademoiselle, do not tempt me. I would take you as my wife this very night if I knew that your words were fully grounded in sanity and not in fear." He looked at her seriously, his eyes burning into her. "You are running from him."

Christine's mind was reeling. Did he just say that he would marry me tonight? She felt breathless, but attempted to make her feelings clear. "No, Erik. I am running to you."

"Nevertheless, you are running. Give yourself time to process and resolve all of your feelings, mon ange. Emotions are powerful, and they often override our logic. Think about what it is that you are doing, Christine." He could scarcely believe his own words—nearly a month ago, he would have taken any mere crumb that she would have offered him. Now, here she was, offering all of herself, and he was refusing. Good Lord, I truly have changed! he marveled. He saw her downcast expression, and caressed her cheek lovingly. "When you are truly ready to be my wife, mon amour, I will not delay our union."

"I love you," she whispered. "What did I ever do to deserve a devoted man like you, Erik? You have always given me such comfort with your words. Even when I was a child and had lost my beloved father, you knew exactly what to say to ensure that I never once had a nightmare." She leaned in close to him and kissed him softly on the lips. "You truly are my Angel."

He pulled her head closer and whispered his love for her against her lips before claiming her mouth in a warm and tender kiss.

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A/N: Well, I know from some of your reviews that you may be afraid that I am making Raoul into a bit of a…well, a jerk! But honestly, I have always thought that Raoul was entirely too pompous, bossy and arrogant. Yes, he can be heroic, too, but when it comes to Christine, I am trying to show his desperation for her. And frankly, even mild-mannered Raoul has a backbone and a scheming nature (remember his plot to trap the Phantom? And the way he forced Christine to go through with it even though she didn't want to?). There's more to Raoul than tenderness and gentlemanly manners. But don't worry, everyone. I'm not going to turn him into Erik's evil arch-nemesis or anything! LOL

Thank you all for the reviews, as well. I hope that this longer chapter will help to tide you over for a couple of days! Erik smooches to everyone!