Redeem Me

"If I am the phantom, it is because man's hatred has made me so.

If I am to be saved, it is because your love redeems me"

Gaston Leroux

Christine sat in the heap of blankets, her curls overtaking her pale body as she exhaled small puffs of air. The dancer was trembling, she was so nervous, but in the back of her mind she knew that this was the right thing to do. If she and her teacher were to take their relationship any further, this was something he needed to know, to see. Her life was no bundle of roses or sunflowers, no. It was not luxurious or filled with privileges and rights. The masked man knew that she had suffered to an extreme degree, but she had done such a good job of covering up what damage had been done to her that the shocked that the masked man received, was too horrid to recall. She seemed happy, like nothing had ever phased her or come in her way of living. She was intelligent, book smart, and socially advanced, getting involved with individuals two to three years older than her. Christine was unique, outspoken and brighter than any other student Erik had ever encountered. There was no sign of torture or suffering over her head or in her green eyes. She held no chains of sorrow or remorse as she fluttered into class with a smile as wide as the vast world she held in the palms of her hands. Yet, the grief that remained unspoken that poisoned her blood and the taste of her lips, seldom appeared to the visitor's eye. In polar opposition, it never left the dancer's heart, it beat so deeply within the caverns of her chest that it began to shatter her from the inside out, slowly disintegrating the minuscule amount of sanity she had left, she was left from years past. With every ounce of her being, Christine believed she was irreparable, too shattered to be pieced back together and too lost to be redeemed.

'Whatever it is, you can tell me. You can trust me, Christine.' The teacher sat cautiously across his student with his back against the head board, his eyes full of concern and worry. Christine took a deep breath. She wanted with everything she had to trust him, but there was something very black, very dark keeping her from giving her heart to him, her full trust in him.

'It's not something I have to tell you, Erik. I have to show you what all that makeup is used for, what I use it to cover up on my body.' Christine's face remained blank as she hopped off the bed and into the bathroom. Wetting a cloth with water, she slowly began washing off the makeup that covered her ankles. Erik watched carefully from the bedroom.

'I don't understand, Christine.' Erik beckoned from the bedroom. The curly haired girl looked up at the teacher. Soon, Christine turned on the bedroom light and walked back over to the teacher. She was crying. Erik reached out to her, but she flinched away from him. With one slow motion, she raised her leg on the bed and his mismatched eyes widened in horror. 'C-Chris...' Erik couldn't even finished saying her name before she began rubbing more of her makeup off of her thigh until her leg was red. She was crying even harder now.

'T-This is what I am! I'm hideous!' Christine screamed in her teacher's face as she revealed countless scars and markings.

Her skin was raised in various areas. Erik frighteningly searched her legs with his eyes, looking at the burn marks. She was branded, branded like a cow on a farm! The chain link brand marking was on her right ankle, Erik could practically hear the sound of the searing hot metal against her porcelain skin. He covered his mouth in disbelief as he watched Christine sob in terror of herself. She was disgusted with her legs. He noticed a particularly long scar ran from inside her left knee and up her thigh, stopping before her sex began. Erik couldn't look any further. He almost vomited at the sight. Christine began to rub on her stomach, but Erik grabbed her wrist and tore the wash cloth - that was now a pale tan color from all the makeup - and threw it to the ground. He couldn't bare to look at her torture herself any longer. He couldn't stand to look at what evil there was in the world.

Erik brought Christine into his arms, wrapping her favorite purple blanket around her. She was shivering from the cold water against her bare skin. She was breathing deeply as she tried to calm her shallow breaths down, but there was no such luck as she cried into Erik's chest. She was mumbling something, but it was muffled by the blanket and her abundance of curls. Erik glanced down at the scars that covered her legs and torso. In a way, he was amazed that she hadn't gotten them removed or used fade cream somehow. As Erik continued to coddle Christine, he moved the blanket aside, her curls going gently with them. Her eyes were red and puffy, her lips pink as ever. Erik had finally been hit with how much older he was then her. He was going to be thirty five and she was barely nineteen. This was very wrong, yet in a way, it was very right.

'Christine, you're wrong, you know.' The teacher began with a serious gaze. She blinked a few times. 'I do still love you and I will always love you, even if you didn't have these scars. They are what make you Christine, they are what make me love you.' Erik smiled softly at the ballerina before taking a deep breath. 'You know, I hated myself for a long time growing up with a deformity. I was shunned from society and my mother absolutely despised me. I found that I was gifted in music and I found my muse there, but that was all I had. I had no one to share it with, no one to give it to. I was a hate filled man for a long time and then, the accident happened and I hated myself and the world even more... But you, you taught me acceptance and love.' Erik chuckled at how cliché his speech sounded, earning a giggle from Christine.

'I did not.' She simply replied with a grin. 'You were kind before you met me.'

'I was a lot of things before I met you and kind was not one of them.' Erik shrugged his shoulders and he set Christine beside him, pressing a kiss to her forehead. 'I struggle with my face a lot, as you know. The mask, it brings attention and mostly unwanted attention. It hurts and it itches, but I've learn to accept that it is who I am. You have taught me that we all have scars, but it's in our imperfections that perfection is found.' Erik smiled again. With a long exhale, the teacher brought the ballerina's knuckles to his lips and pressed his lips gently to them, reassuring her that she would always be his. 'Christine, you have redeemed me and I can't thank you enough for that.'

Christine sat in the back of the classroom, her black hoodie covering most of her face. Usually, Erik didn't allow hats or hoods to be worn in class, but Christine wasn't speaking or participating and that worried him greatly. He let it slide this one time. As he continued teaching about Animal Farm, he noticed that there was whispering going on behind him, he hated that too. As he turned around to scold his students, bringing in the new year rather grimly, he noticed that Christine had disappeared from her seat, her belongings left on her desk, her blonde friend wide eyed as ever.

"Where did Miss Daaé go?" Erik firmly asked the blonde upperclassman. She sunk in her seat. "Did you not hear me? Where did she run off to? She can't just leave my class-"

"She was throwing up, Professor Lantier, all over herself!" Meg stood to reach the volume of his voice, irate at his attitude. She couldn't possibly understand what Christine saw in this guy, not even beginning with his age. "Do us all a favor and get your head out of your ass." Meg gathered her belongings, as well as Christine's. Storming out of the classroom, Erik stood smack-jawed at the blonde's harsh words. At that moment, he knew that she knew about his relationship with Christine and she did not approve, no matter how hard she tried.

"Please, excuse me for a moment." Erik breathed out finally. "By the time I get back, you should have a completed outline for me - the one that was due today." Erik nodded affirmatively before walking out of his classroom, locking the door behind him. He looking down the hallway and suddenly, he laid eyes on the curly haired ballerina.

He had not seen her since New Year's and since then, she had been ignoring his calls and text messages. It's been two weeks since then and the second semester had been in session for a week now. He thought nothing of it, until she started arriving to his class late. Christine was always a prompt student, never one to waltz into class upon her own agenda. Without a note or reason, the ballerina would chassé into the back row and sink into her desk seat. Erik would remain silent, trying to contain his boiling temper as the week went on and Christine's behavior did not change. He despised not having a reason for anything.

"Christine! Christine!" The curly haired ballerina was curled up against the wall, her eyes barely opened, her chest barely moving. Erik dashed over to the almost unconscious student, pulling out his phone. Quickly dialing 911 Emergency, he checked her pulse and lifted her into his arms. She was as light as a feather.

"Professor Lantier?" Meg's annoyed voice beckoned from the staircase. Her quick feet met with the professor as he fumbled with Christine and his phone.

"Yes, hello my name is Erik Lantier. I'm a professor here, yes. I have a student here, she's barely conscious. I don't know what happened. Well, if I knew, I would have tried helping her before she got to this state." Erik frantically threw the classroom key to Meg, trying not to disturb Christine. She was mumbling something in French. "She has a pulse, yes. I don't know about past illnesses. I'm not her father. Okay, thank you. Her name is Christine, Christine Daaé." The students began to gasp at the sight of their fellow class mate as Erik came in with his student in his arms. Meg said nothing.

"What happened to her?" Collin Price piped up as Erik tried to make a measly bed out of desks for Christine. "She looks terrible."

"Thank you for your commentary, Mr. Price." Erik sighed heavily, glancing down at Christine. She was shivering. "The paramedics will be here soon. For now," Erik began with a deep pit in his stomach. "You're dismissed for the day. I'll stay with her... I'll watch her." The sea of students slowly arose to their feet, watching their professor closely as he whispered something in a foreign language they did not understand. Finally, she began to stir.

"M-Meg..." Erik in one fluid motion moved out of the way and allowed the blonde friend to Christine's side. Ushering the rest of the students out of his class, he glanced out to the hallway for the EMTs. "W-Why am I a-at school?" Christine groaned with a weak groan.

"You don't remember coming to class this morning, Christine?" Meg's voice was soft, feathery as she spoke gently to the sickly ballerina. "What do you remember?"

"T-The chains... He's here... M-My dad..." Meg tilted her head as her blue eyes widened with fear and terror. "My dad, he's coming for me, Meg!" Christine sat up, grabbing Meg by the shoulders.

"Christine, Christine, you have to lay back down, baby. No one is coming for you, your father is dead. Don't you remember? He died a long time ago, you were very young." Erik listened intently as Meg seared the words down Christine's throat like some sort of ritualistic chant. "No one is coming for you, Christine. Not your father, not your step-mother, no one, not even Matt, okay?" Erik took a step forward toward the two ladies.

"Matt?" He questioned rather loudly, earning a more than angry glare from Meg. "Who is Matt?" Suddenly, the sirens became audible and surely enough, the paramedics arrived before Erik could get a real answer out of Meg.

"Christine Daaé, age nineteen. She has a fever of 101." The female EMT called as they brought Christine onto the gurney. "Blood pressure is 74 over 40, very low."

"Get some oxygen on her and an IV of water in her. We want to keep her hydrated, let's go!" The male paramedic shouted. Erik and Meg quickly followed behind them as they led Christine, who was now barely awake out to the ambulance. Meg began to step into the back of the vehicle. "Excuse me, only family members are allowed back here."

"She doesn't have any family members!" Meg pleaded as she looked at Christine. She was unconscious as the female EMT desperately tried to hurry up this conversation. "I'm the closest thing she has to family. I can tell you her medical history, her birthday, her... Her..."

"Cousin, I'm her older cousin." Erik finally blurted out as the blonde girl began to furiously sob. "I'm also the one who called, the professor here. My name is Erik, Erik Lantier. She was in my class, visiting me. Her mother, was my sister, she died in child birth. She never knew her father, she was raised by her aunt. My other sister." Erik took a deep breath as the male EMT narrowed his eyes at the masked man.

The male EMT figured that they both had dark enough hair and they kind of had the same nose. Hell, both their last names were French too. The male EMT, Brian, was young for an EMT. He couldn't have been more than twenty eight, Erik figured. Brian truly felt bad that she did not have family to come with her, even if what this masked man was saying, was true. With a quickened sigh, seeing that Christine was now in critical condition, he gestured for the tall professor to join him in the ambulance.

"Here is my card, Meg. Meet me at the hospital-"

"Yeah, thanks." Meg turned on her heel and soon she was out of sight and out of mind. Erik looked down at Christine with a sore feeling in his chest. Grabbing her tiny hand, he pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles and set it gently on her chest, careful not to mess with the IV.

As the hospital came into view twenty minutes later, Erik took a deep breath and grabbed his coat. The curly haired ballerina slowly opened her eyes, her breathing shallow and uneven.

"W-Where am I?" She whispered, taking off her oxygen mask, barely audible with everything going on inside the ambulance.

"Miss Daaé, you're at the hospital, you were unconscious. Do you remember what happened prior to your first class this morning?" The female EMT spoke clearly, enunciating her syllables to Christine. Erik groaned.

"I... He's... My professor?" Christine's eyes landed on Erik's mask as she blinked profusely, taking in her surroundings. There were IVs and she was strapped into something.

"Yes, I am your professor, Christine..." Erik scooted closer to her, his tone wary. "You left my classroom and I found you unconscious in the hallway." Christine's green eyes widened as she tried to deny Erik's story. "Do you remember what happened this morning or last night?"

"NO!" Christine was in a panicked state as the EMT's wheeled her out of the ambulance and into hospital. "HE'S COMING AFTER ME!" Erik tried to hurry behind Christine and the EMTs, but he was violently shoved aside by a nurse, earning a less than amused growl. Moving to the waiting room, Erik was handed a clipboard and a pen. He looked down at the form and drew in a long breath, not really remembering just how he ended up there.

"Oh Christine, what have we gotten ourselves into now..."

Erik cursed in multiple languages as he stepped into his old shared home. He did not want to be there, but there was something he needed from his former office. He just prayed with everything he had and hoped that Bailey wouldn't be there to greet him. To his dismay, the smell of a fresh lasagna being baked and a familiar off-pitch singing voice filled the air as he stepped through the door. He quietly approached the dining room that was adjoined with the living room. Erik didn't know if she had noticed him or not. Placing his coat on the all too familiar table, he glided swiftly into the archway of the kitchen and leaned against it, with a clearing of his throat.

"Jesus, Erik! You scared me half to death!" Bailey shrieked as a fork went straight up in the air, landing on the cool tile floor. Erik smiled slightly as he bent down to retrieve the utensil, recognizing that Bailey still fashioned his engagement ring. "You always were very stealthy." Erik handed her the fork with silence. Her baby bump had began to show earlier than a typical pregnancy, yet again nothing was typical about it.

"I just came here to get something in my office that I forgot. I was hoping that you would be at work." Bailey nodded along as Erik looked around the kitchen. The pictures of him and Bailey were mounted gloriously on the walls, as if she was expecting him to come and visit her. "Is everything in there as I left it?"

"Yes, I haven't touched a thing in there." Erik hummed in reply as he curiously glanced down at his engagement ring. It was a simple diamond, elegant in every way. She wore it well and Erik cursed the universe for that. "You know, you're welcome here anytime you want. I'm not banishing you from this house, it still can be ours..." Bailey grew glum as she trailed off, fiddling with the ring on her finger. "I miss you, Erik. This house gets lonely." She simply stated, earning a sigh of confusion from the masked man across from her.

"You don't have dancer boy over here?" Bailey fervently shook her head. "Why not?"

"We're not together or dating, an item. I'm raising this baby on my own, Erik. I didn't want him to be apart of it." Suddenly, Erik stepped closer to Bailey, grabbing her forearm with the most gentle grasp someone could have.

"You are denying a child a father, Bailey. How is that in any way fair to that child?" Erik pointed to her baby bump. "You expect to raise a child on your own, with a hair stylist's salary, and no form of child support?" Bailey bit her lip and shied away from the towering man. There was something stirring within her that she couldn't let go of, that would be fatal to both of them if she parted her lips. "Did you even talk to him about child support?" Bailey shook her head again, her gaze averting to her feet.

"Erik, I..." She began with a timid undertone. Slowly, her eyes raised to meet his mismatched irises; they were searching for an answer that she could not provide. " told him that it was a mistake to think that you would ever cheat on me... This child is mine to keep, because of my doubts." Erik's heart sank into the abyss of his stomach. It churned with an unbearable pain as he imagined the tiny ballerina in the hospital bed, crying for someone to help her. Erik could have thrown up, he felt so sickly about the situation.

"S-So you're keeping the child, because you have to?" He finally croaked out with a shake of his head.

"I don't know!" Bailey began to cry into her hands.

Suddenly, she was no longer the woman pregnant with another man's child and he was no longer the teacher dating his student. She was simply the young lady who helped a young man with a deformity, long, long ago. Her blonde locks fell over her face as she sobbed, her body gathering in a pool on the tile floor. She was now the broken one. The masked man inhaled languidly, taking a step forward to the blonde girl. As he took his seat on the ground beside her, he felt her body melt into hers like it was one puzzle piece fitting into another. His protective arms wound around her as he sat there, forgetting about the life he had beyond the archway, beyond the tiled floor. Erik exhaled once more before lifting Bailey's gaze to his. Her blue eyes were filled with tears and they were red with a tumultuous journey that was not yet over and done. As her jaw quivered in his palms, he couldn't help but lower his lips to hers, to feel the emotion that he felt the day he realized that she loved him, the day that he dared to look beauty in the face.