Chapter Eighteen

"You look disappointed," Richard said, ignoring my rhetorical question.

"I guess – I thought you were someone else. But that's not even possible." I could feel the red burning under my cheeks and I turned my head to avoid him seeing. I almost felt ashamed that I had allowed myself to hope for the impossible.

"You thought I was him, didn't you?" He hung his head slightly, to hide his own shame for his former actions. There was no need to clarify who the him was. I had confessed everything about Erik to Richard and he, in return, confessed everything to me about how he had been the one to rip me from my angel's side.

"Forgive me, Richard. I don't know who I am anymore. I've lost myself."

He took a tentative step towards me. When I dared to look, I could see the torment in his eyes. "Let me help you, Christine. I know that I can never make up for what happened – for what I did – but there is nothing in this world that will prevent me from trying." There was an awkward pause in which we both stood there waiting for the other to make the next move. Finally, Richard took a step back and I breathed just a little easier. I didn't harbor him any ill will, but I wasn't anywhere close to being ready for physical contact. "I will leave you to your memories, but I would be honored to escort you to dinner this evening," he said, backing out of the room with a small bow. He left the door cracked open just slightly.

I took my mother's necklace and my father's picture and sat down on the bed, cradling them both to me. I remained in that state until a maid appeared a short time later at the door and softly cleared her throat, informing me that she was there to help me get ready for dinner.

The maid started pulling things out of the closet and setting things on the dresser. As she went about her work, I stood, looking at the priceless, beautiful, blue gown that Erik had so loving picked out for me. It soon became apparent that it was the dress intended for me to wear, as the maid pulled out everything except another dress.

I let the straps of the green dress slide down my arms, the weight of the material pulled by gravity until it pooled at my feet, leaving my skin susceptible to the chill of the air. I let the flesh of my exposed arms tremble in protest. It gave me something to focus on so that I did not go insane from thinking of how close Richard had been the whole time.

The maid cinched me into the corset, pulling the strings so tightly that I thought it a wonder they didn't snap from the strain. I had forgotten what it felt like to wear a corset made with real whale boning. I gasped several times, trying to recall how to breathe.

"Do you want me to loosen the laces?" The maid asked with concern. I shook my head and prayed that I would either pass out or somehow force the air into my lungs again. I closed my eyes and concentrated on filling only the upper half of my lungs. It seemed to work for the moment.

"I don't think I can put that on," I confessed to the girl, as she pulled the dress from the bed and started to unlace it in the back so it would be easier for me to slip into.

"But the Baron insists, ma'am," the girl said with a hint of panic in her voice. Clearly, she was worried of the consequences if I came out in anything but that dress. I tried to tell myself that it wouldn't be so bad to wear it again. After all, I had only worn it once; and perhaps the fact that they dress had been traced down at all was a sign that I was supposed to move on. I could feel my heart flip in objection, but I stubbornly refused to listen. Ultimately, it was the look in the girl's eyes that had me relent.

By the time that she was finished cinching me in, smoothing me down and bedazzling me with my mother's jewelry, I was already feeling more feminine than I had thought possible to feel again. She sat me down in front of a large mirror and applied soft colors to my cheeks and lips, and a light blue and silver powder to my eyelids, giving them a smoky shadowed appearance that somehow still managed to match the dress. She pulled my hair back into a twisting mess of elegant curls.

"There," the girl said with a satisfied smile. "I think you're all ready. And just in time for dinner too."

"Thank you," I said, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I had the overwhelming feeling that everything was about to change, but I was comforted by knowing that I still possessed some control over those changes. I would not leave Helen behind, and I did not want her to live in poverty, but neither was I sure that I was willing to accept whatever Richard had to offer. Whatever I might have felt towards him, or could have learned to feel towards him given enough time, I could never look at him without thinking of Erik. I would always be in love with a man who existed as a phantom in life and a ghost in my heart. Richard reminded me too much of him, not just physically because of his injury, but he had the same sense of duty and need to protect.

"You look like a queen," she said, trying to cheer me up.

I sighed, letting my hands trace my silhouette like a collector would a doll. "I may be dressed as a queen, but I am still a plain spinster underneath. This is a costume and I am a prop, it is only fitting that I play my role."

I smiled at her confused expression and walked out the door, taking as deep of a breath as I possibly could and summoning up my courage.

"You look incredible," Richard said as he greeted me in the hallway. I knew that I should place my hand on his arm, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

"I often wondered what had happened to you, Richard," I said, hoping that the conversation would remove some of the awkwardness. "I admit that I am more than surprised at your dramatic change. I don't understand how you did it though."

"How I did what?" he asked skeptically.

"Everything that you did – for everyone."

He stopped walking and looked at me quizzically. "If you're referring to the dress and jewels, it was only for you. Well, and the various people that I paid inordinate amounts of money to in order to retrieve them," he added with a chuckle.

"No, that's not what I meant. Please don't misunderstand me, I am very thankful for that, more than I could ever tell you. But I am talking about everything else. I have heard so many stories about how many people you have helped and I -"

"Christine," he stopped me, putting a hand on my arm, only to remove it just as quickly. "Who is it you think I am?" he asked, pursing his lips.

I smiled self-consciously. "The Baron Drogrim, of course."

He let out a long breath. "I was afraid of that." He broke our unspoken rule of not touching and took both my hands in his, looking at them. "I should have told you right away. I mean, I meant to tell you first thing, it was just that seeing you knocked the words from me and I was just so excited to see you that I forgot to tell you. It's ridiculous of me, and I apologize."

"Richard, what are you saying? Please just speak plainly to me. I'm in no mood for any more riddles or unanswered questions."

"I'm not the Baron, Christine. I was just hired by him to recover your things."

I pulled my hands from his so that he could not feel the tremors that had begun to run through me. "I don't understand. If you're not the Baron, than who is?"

He was clearly reluctant to drop my hand as he gestured outward. I realized for the first time, too absorbed by the information to notice before, that we were standing at the top of the grand staircase. A man was walking towards the base of the steps. His feet made no sound against the marble floor and his black flowing cape seemed to envelope him with a sense of foreboding, giving him the appearance of a gliding shadow.

My heart stopped mid-beat, only to thunder back to life with a fury. I didn't have to see his masked face; I didn't have to hear his deep, resonating voice or feel his wavering but passionate touch. My very soul revived and pulled my body towards him of. My angel of music. The spirit to my voice. My Erik.

I walked in a trance down the stairs. When he reached the bottom of the steps, he stopped and I responded accordingly. We both stood there, locked in each other's eyes, both waiting to wake up. He made a single movement towards me and the next thing I knew my body was racing down the stairs, my feet running of their own accord. In the time it took him to take a single step up, I had flown down the length of the stairs and threw myself into his waiting embrace.

His arms held me so tightly that I thought I would break, but I didn't care. It wasn't close enough. I wanted to meld into his body and never leave. I buried my face into his neck and cried, far too many emotions poured from me to even acknowledge a single one. He wrapped one arm around my waist, lifting me to him. His other hand tangled in my hair and held me pressed to him.

I realized, as my own sobs were subsiding, that he was choking back tears of his own. I had only seen him cry once before. It was a sight that had broken my heart so completely that I had vowed I never wanted to see it again, but under the circumstances, it was the sweetest sight in the world to me.

He didn't let me go for a long time, and I was more than fine to just let him hold him, and I him. When he did finally pull away, it was a very small distance. His hands cupped my face, thumbs brushing away my tears and he kissed my forehead.

"Is it really you?" he asked softly.

"Me?" I asked with a choked laugh. "You died. How can you be here? How can this be real?"

He laughed, a most joyous sound. "It is a very long story."

"So long as you promise to not let me go, I'll listen to every word a thousand times."

He pressed me to him again, and held me as he spoke. "I remember nothing about my injuries, only you, caring for me. I woke up in the water, though perhaps that is an incorrect statement. It was more instinctual. I crawled to an alcove under the lake and stayed there until I had healed enough to return to consciousness. By that time, you were gone and the opera was almost entirely destroyed. I stayed down there until starvation forced me to the surface. You most certainly saved my life, and ironically, had the Commune not thrown me into the water, my mind may have never been shocked back into life."

He stopped to kiss my forehead again, yanking off his gloves to touch flesh to flesh. His hand still bore that lifeless cold I had previously feared so greatly. Yet now, as he caressed the curvature of my neck and jaw, my own skin was so cold that it nearly matched.

"I realized that I couldn't find you by simply walking around asking about you. I returned favors for information and eventually that benefitted into a sort of enterprise. It was mostly luck and making wise choices that led me into a small fortune that amassed to a larger and larger one. I used every means to find you." His throat caught as he continued. "I promised I would protect you and I didn't. I failed you, Christine."

I pulled away slightly and looked him in the eyes. His pristine white mask was perfectly in place, but I could still see the pain etched into every visible feature. "It was not your fault, mon chere. There was nothing you could have done."

"If I had not gone after them, then maybe-"

"Then maybe they would have found us sooner," I interrupted. "We can't change the past. We can only go forward with what we are given."

"I never stopped searching for you, but I never anticipated you being so good at hiding," he added with a small smile. "You were always two steps ahead of us all. I had never meant to teach you to hide from the world, but to rise above it. Yet it appears that you learned more than I thought I was teaching. There were so many times that I thought I would never see you, and then we'd catch a whisper of a hint and we would chase it until it was a dead end or led to another clue. Who knew my little song bird was also a chameleon?"

An awkward sound of Richard clearing his throat broke the moment and we instantly took a small step back from each other, though still close enough to be able to touch without moving our feet.

"Your dinner will be getting cold. Could this conversation not be continued at the table?" he asked, very distantly polite. The Commander of the Commune seemed to vanish, and in his place, a worn man stood, defeated. Richard seemed to visibly shrink in the presence of Erik.

In lieu of the proper hand on the forearm, Erik held my hand firmly in his own as he led me in the direction of the served supper. I knew I would be most impressed with the banquet before me, but I was too distracted by staring at Erik to notice. He pulled the chair at the head of the table around to the side, setting it as close as possible to the next seat, where he led me to.

He kept his hand on the small of my back as the few maids and butlers re-arranged the place settings with looks that screamed louder than any spoken word. We ignored them mostly, but it was hard to not notice their strange behavior.

I tried to remain as dignified as I could, but I could not even make it through a single course before I the questions bubbled up inside of me. I set my utensil down and turned towards him. "Where did you look?"

"The most difficult was tracking you through the Commune. There were so many leads that all fell through. It did not help me any that you decided to cut off all your hair and change your name," he added with an amused smile. "Though, I supposed that was the best for you at the time. Once the Commune started retreating it became even more troublesome. We found an occasional soldier who recognized a drawing of you, but even when they could remember where they had seen you, by the time we could get in, you were gone. I thought we had you at last when we discovered Commander Bruence in the last Commune hospital still inside France. Commander Bruence, after overcoming a serious amount of shock, told us everything he knew."

I was surprised. "Everything?" I asked.

Erik nodded his head gravely. I could see the anger and pain flash across his face, only to vanish the next instant. "Yes. He agreed to help us to atone for some of his … transgressions. I remained to speak with him while Jaques, began to search in any possible place you may have gone to when you left there. He even searched the very hotel you were staying at, but by that time, you looked very little like the sketching and they sent him away. You had been laying just a few meters away, nearly frozen to death." Here, he stopped to regain himself and to press me briefly to him again. "We had exhausted every clue. We started searching every town from your last known location and outward for hundreds of miles."

"How many people were looking for me?"

"I lost count," he said with a smile. "I offered a reward for your safe return and the word spread and I was quickly overwhelmed with help."

"What did you offer as a reward?" I asked skeptically.

"Any one of my houses and the means to live comfortably for the rest of their days. I had several men under my direct employ who served me by investigating any and all reports of your sightings. I was staying at the Exchequer Hotel the second time because someone had discovered the body of a young girl buried so close to where we last knew you to be."

"Marie…" I said in a whisper, suddenly thrown back to the memory. I struggled for breath, my features strangely familiar to the ones that had taken over Erik's face just moments ago as he mentioned my near death.

"So it was later discovered. But before then, I had nearly convinced myself that it was you. Everything seemed to fit that you had died. I was in a most awful state. I had returned to my room at the hotel, ready to give up the whole search and end my suffering when a mysterious red rose appeared in my room. It gave me the hope I needed to renew my search. I knew at that moment that you could not be gone."

I could have laughed. "I left that rose in your room. I can't even explain why, but it felt so necessary. Ester through such a tantrum that it made me wonder if she was any relation to La Carlotta."

"She mistook my reaction as anger and returned it in kind," he lifted my arm to see the very slightest hint of Ester's rage: small, paper thin scars that would be gone in less than a year's time. Nevertheless, he kissed each one with slow attention, raising my flesh and flooding heat throughout my body.

We abandoned the untouched food at the table as he led me to the study. The shelves were mostly empty, but there were several books scattered about. Unlike most of the rest of the shrouded house, this room felt frequented and cared for.

Erik sat down on the sofa, pulling me into the place next to him. I marveled at how neither of us cared of how dismissing we were of societal norms. Never would a man sit in such close proximity to a young woman, nor even be in the same room alone with her. Even the Erik that had given me a home below the opera house would never be so informal with me. But things had changed. We had both come to realize that time was far too short to be bothered with practiced politeness. We wanted to be close to each other and we would not let such rules interrupt that. Still, I could not help but feel just a little gloriously scandalous at the act.

Letting my head rest against his chest, Erik buried his face in my hair, inhaling deeply. His hand ran down my arm and back up again, slowly, gently playing on my skin, like he was caressing the finished surface of one of his beloved instruments. The hand not occupied with creating trails of fire on my arm, played with the curls of my hair.

"Just to touch you again is heaven to me," he confessed.

"If only I had stopped running and hiding, we could have been together so much sooner."

"You did what you had to do to survive. We have the rest of our lives to make up for the time." His words seemed to trigger a thought because he pulled away from me. I ached at the loss. He stood and walked to one of the walls of shelves. Fingering a worn volume, he spoke with his back turned to me.

"Christine, I do not want you to feel obligated. You have the utmost freedom to make any decision you wish. I would never hold you against your will – not again. I do not want you to base your choice on what I would feel."

"Erik, you have not asked me anything yet," I reminded him. "How could I feel obligated to answer a question one way or another without knowing what the question is?" I stood from the settee, but did not yet walk towards him.

"Christine, I want to ask you stay with me. I give you my word that I have changed. I would never keep you against your will. You would be free to leave whenever you wished. Even if you say no, I still offer to provide you with any support that you would need: money, doctor's care, a house. Anything you could wish for, I will provide it as best I can."

I walked steadily towards him, while he spoke facing his books. Once he finally turned around, I was standing directly behind him. I had never seen him look so vulnerable before, not even that night in the opera house where he confessed he loved me and made me choose between Raoul and him.

"I could not live with a man, who treated me with such fragility." He looked visibly crushed at my words. His head hung and his chest heaved. I laid my hand on his cheek, lifting his gaze to mine. "If I am to spend my life with you, you cannot keep me on a pedestal. I do not want a man to stand behind me. I want a man to be beside me, without constant fear of frightening me away."

A little hope sparked in his eyes. "Does that mean …?"

"Yes," I gratefully admitted with a smile. "I will stay with you. I will go wherever you go and remain wherever you stay. I am yours, Erik. Now and forever."

I leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek but his head turned at just the last moment our lips met. Instead of pulling away, like my head knew it should, our bodies pressed together. Erik's hands were on my face, caressing my skin. As our kiss deepened, I began to realize that he kept his hands there to keep them from wandering elsewhere. My arms crossed behind his head. His tongue traced mine before dipping into my willing mouth.

My chest tightened, forcing a moan to escape in my throat. Erik's hands left my face and skimmed down my body to my corseted waist. He easily pulled me around and pressed me against the bookshelves. His hands travelled upwards slightly to my ribcage and much too close to my aching breasts.

Like a lightening flash suddenly streaking across the sky, the pressure of Erik's body against mine was gone and my skin felt suddenly cold without the heat from his touch. When I opened my eyes, Erik was at the opposite end of the room, breathing extremely heavy.

When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. "I apologize. I should not have done that. I forgot how intoxicating you were. I no longer bear any resistance to you. I shall endeavor to better restrain myself in your presence."

My head was buzzing and my reaction to his words were delayed. We stood panting for a long moment before everything sunk in.

"What if I do not want you to restrain yourself?" I asked, moistening my lips. His eyes locked onto the action like a viper waiting for the smallest flinch as provocation to strike.

"I am no longer a child, Erik. I know what the feelings inside me mean and I'm not afraid of them. Well, not entirely afraid," I admitted with a nervous smile. "I will not let you spend every moment around me in agony. I just ask for some patience. It's going to take me a little while to get used to the idea."

"What idea is that?" he asked, his voice still raw. He distracted his eyes by looking up at the ceiling.

"Being in love."

Erik closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath. He took a step towards me, stopping as he mentally checked himself, taking another deep breath and continuing.

When he reached out to take my hands, he was trembling violently.

"Christine, I love you, more than anything in the world. I will be everything that you need me to be and more."

"You already are," I said, smiling. I wanted to kiss him again, but I waited. He lifted both my hands, placing a soft kiss to each one before pulling me towards him, cradling me to his chest.

I closed my eyes and listened to his heartbeat, thundering out a steady tattoo. My own heart paced to match it and we stayed together, holding each other until long after the rest of the house retired to their respective rooms.

A/N: Mwahahahahahaha!!! You didn't honestly think that I could possibly leave Erik dead, did you? He's the Phantom. Love never dies.