A/N: Here's the next chapter, dear readers, and it's even a bit early. Don't forget to leave me a review and let me know what you think.

Chapter 17

Mama Giry and Meg's Advice

Christine

The following morning, Raoul kindly allowed me to sleep as long as I liked. When I awoke, Sasha brought me breakfast in bed. Along with this special treat was the sweetest note from Raoul and a velvet box. I opened the box immediately after reading Raoul's little love letter, gasping with delight at the contents. Inside was a lovely string of pearls. After eating, I dressed in a pink gown that had always been a favorite of his, fastening the pearls around my neck as Nannette arranged my curls. My eyes were still puffy from crying the night before, so I applied a cool cloth to them for a few minutes before going in search of Raoul. The reason for my tears was never far from my mind, but I pushed those thoughts aside.

The rain had once again been replaced by snow. Raoul and I took advantage of the weather, changing into warmer clothes and venturing outside. We spent the entire day together, bundled up in cloaks with scarves and mittens, frolicking about like two children in the wonderland of white. It was almost as if we had gone back in time together. Almost. The girl Raoul loved had grown up, and even as we played like the children we had once been, a painful longing tugged at my heart… thoughts of Erik loomed in the back of my mind. I was determined to forget him though, and I threw myself into our games all the more for my effort.

There was a perfect sledding hill near the tennis court, and we sailed down it repeatedly. Several times, we came nearer to a tree than I would have liked. I clung to Raoul, squealing with fright. Suddenly, it occurred to me that he must be swerving toward the trees on purpose. I confronted him with slight annoyance, and he did not deny it. He returned my smack to his arm with a playful grin and a kiss. I forgave him his boyish tricks, flattered by his attempts to keep me as close as possible. After all, Erik had done far worse to draw me to him.

We enjoyed a lovely picnic lunch in the greenhouse, before returning to our fun outside. A brief snowball fight gave way to our goal of building the tallest snowman we could. Then Raoul surprised me with a romantic sleigh ride. My restless thoughts were constantly occupied with our games and conversation. I was grateful that I had few chances to break my promise to myself and dwell on my heartache.

Inside, we changed from our damp garments and joined the family for dinner. Our lovely day was finished before the fire, where Raoul played his violin for us. Then we sat reading together as we used to do, taking turns with a few pages each, laughing at the voices we came up with for each new character. His parents sat nearby listening and carrying on their own whispered conversation.

Only alone in my room did I allow my mind to wander back to the forbidden topic of Erik. In the darkness, beneath my blankets I wept silently, wondering what Erik was doing at the moment. My fists clenched the covers in anger. I loved him and I hated him… hated him for sending me away and yet remaining inside my mind.

All of this was my fault! Why had I not simply told him that I loved him sooner? But I had been so sure of my plan, so sure that I should wait until I no longer loved Raoul, until I was ready to love Erik with my whole heart. Even if I had told him at once, he may still have pushed me away. There was no way of knowing when his love had turned into a spiteful performance meant to bring about vengeance for my past rejections. He had seemed so genuine, but one could never tell with Erik. Anger turned to burning despair, and I cried into my pillows, muffling the sound. At last I fell into a fitful sleep, filled with new nightmares.

I was wandering the streets of Paris, hand-in-hand with Raoul. The warm sun shone beautifully, glittering off everything that it touched. Then through the bustle of conversation, I heard a sound like no other… a voice… singing. It was Erik! It could only be him. No one else could sing like that. The heavenly voice drew me, and I followed gladly, leaving Raoul behind without a thought. I followed his gentle pleading to the Opera… up the many steps to the rooftop. And there I saw Erik's shadowy figure, back-lit by the blinding rays of the sun. His cloak billowed majestically in the breeze, and he held out one hand, beckoning to me. Behind me, I could vaguely hear Raoul's protests, but I paid them no heed. Erik was calling me back to him. With hurried steps, I returned to his side, reaching for his hand in rapturous delight.

His fingers were like ice as they wrapped around my wrist in a vice-like hold. I looked up into his eyes in confusion, only to see that he was laughing at me. His laughter became louder… so loud that I wanted to cover my ears and shut out the crazed sound. This was not the Erik I loved. I turned to Raoul helplessly, but Erik jerked me back to him.

"Are you happy Christine?" he asked mockingly. "I have given you your story-book ending with your young man, and still you are not satisfied. I know what you want. I will give it to you." His expression had turned cold as stone. "Death would be better than to live with an egotistical bastard such as myself, I believe you said. Raoul is a much better man, you told me. And yet you are not content with your better man. Let me hand you over to your true lover, Christine. Let me give away the bride… as she espouses Death!" Before I had the chance to say a word, I was dangling over the edge of the building, suspended by Erik's iron grasp. I looked up at him pleadingly, choking on my tears, but there was only hatred in his eyes. "Goodbye Christine," he growled. And then he let go.

Two weeks passed in a flurry of activities. I jumped at the chance of anything to keep myself occupied, dreading the times when I was left alone with my thoughts. The nightmares continued, but worse than those terrifying dreams was the time spent alone in my room each night, yearning for a man who had flung my love back in my face.

There were balls and dinner parties where I danced with Raoul and sang for an audience of Parisian upper class that appreciated me far less as the viscount's fiancée than as an actress on the stage. Gossip never bothered Raoul, and he encouraged me to ignore it. I was a princess in his eyes, no matter what others said.

Raoul scarcely left my side for a moment. His family was all kindness and affability. Although his parents clearly would have preferred me as a mistress rather than a fiancée, they valued their son's happiness above such feelings and never had an unkind word for me. Eleonore and Jocelyn didn't seem to mind having the daughter of a violinist as their new sister. They doted on me, taking me to extravagant restaurants and shops. Like two little girls with a new doll, they delighted in dressing me up for parities and choosing just the right ornaments to set off my new gowns.

My small collection of jewelry was growing; each day at the breakfast table there was a new gift from Raoul. Sometimes he gave me flowers, a single rose or a fresh bouquet. Other days his gift was a necklace, earrings, or a jeweled comb for my hair. One morning he knelt beside my chair and presented me with a beautiful diamond ring to replace the one that Erik had taken.

Always the caring fiancé, Raoul noticed the misery behind my smiles. One morning, he asked if I would like to see some of my own friends, instead of always being surrounded by the stuffy elite of Fauboug Saint-Germain. I told him that I would love to spend time with Meg and Madame Giry again. After all, they had been the only family I had for years. He replied that he had been hesitant to invite over anyone from the Opera until I was ready; now clearly, I was ready. A servant was sent with an invitation, and the Girys joined Raoul and me for lunch.

How good it was to see Meg and her mother again! While we ate, we chatted about the parties I had attended, the important people I had met, and the beautiful silk gowns I had worn. Meg wanted all of the details. Madame Giry told us about her current work with the dancers. They were using the ballet foyer for rehearsals until the auditorium was repaired. Meg practically squealed in her excitement as she told me about her solo dance for the upcoming opera. Casually, I enquired about the production. They were rehearsing Il Trovatore. More than anything, I wanted to join them… to sing or at least to dance as a gypsy girl, like Meg. Raoul wouldn't mind, even if his parents did. But I was hesitant to return to a place filled with so many memories of Erik. As always, Madame Giry seemed to understand my conflicting emotions without the need to tell her. She also understood the need to leave me be to work through those feelings on my own. The Girys ended their visit with a promise to return in a week, and I said au revoir with a lighter heart, knowing that we would see one another again soon.

The following week passed much as the past two had. There were more parties, and also quiet evenings spent with the family around music, a game, a book, or simply talking. Wedding plans were forming slowly. Raoul continued to spend as much time with me as possible, paying me the sweetest little attentions and showering me with gifts. He was everything a girl could wish for in a man, and life with him was a lovely dream.

But Raoul had one great fault: he was nothing like Erik. His embraces and kisses continued to inspire me with none of the feelings I had felt in Erik's arms. A moment of our eyes locking did not send chills down my spine. Although I could never deny that Raoul loved me, his love for me and my love for him was not the same as the love I shared with Erik. No one had ever loved me like Erik had. Love without restraint or mercy, unrelenting even when I had not returned it. Unrelenting in fading from my heart now that I did. No matter how I wished to erase him from my mind, I could never forget my Erik. His love… his voice… his eyes… his face… his very soul had become such a part of my life that I did not want go on without him. Despite my determination to forget him, Erik lingered in my mind, and I knew that he was there to stay.

I was ensconced in the library's window seat, a book open on my lap, only half paying attention to the words on the page when Aubert came to tell me that the Girys had arrived. Getting up, I deposited the book on a nearby table and rushed to the parlor.

As much as he wanted to be with me every moment, Raoul could not. He and his father were attending to some estate business in the study. Truth be told, I was relieved for the chance to talk alone with Meg and her mother. Raoul's presence and my own determination had kept the subject of Erik off limits on their first visit, but now I was ready to pour out my heart to someone. I was ready for Mama Giry and Meg's advice, whatever it would be. Raoul and I had talked a little about Erik. I had given him an abridged version of my time in the house on the lake, leaving out any details that would needlessly hurt my fiancé. There was no reason to let him know that pity had turned to fondness and then to love before Erik sent me away. But there was no such fear of causing pain when speaking to these two women who were like a mother and sister to me. I could speak freely with them.

As soon as I had closed the parlor doors behind me, I found myself nearly smothered in a hug from Meg.

"Christine! Oh, it's so good to see you again. Is that a new dress? I love that color on you… and the lace is simply divine. And those earrings! They must have cost a fortune." She hardly paused for breath, taking both my hands in hers and spinning around the room. "How have you been?"

"Fine, Meg," I replied, my lips curling into a smile despite myself. The bouncy blonde always brightened my days. "The earrings are a gift from Raoul, and the dress was bought shopping with his sisters."

"Let her have some air, Meg," came the stern voice of Mama Giry. We both looked her way. "Good morning, Christine."

"Good morning, Mama," I greeted, still smiling. At the Opera, she had always been Madame, but at home she was Mama to me as well as Meg.

She too had a slight smile as she motioned towards the couch, where we all settled together. Once we were seated, her eyes locked with mine, her smile fading into a grave expression.

"I have had a visit from Erik," she told me, always direct and to the point.

At the sound of his name, I caught my breath, looking from mother to daughter.

"When?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly.

"On the evening that he returned you here," she said.

"Oh." My eyes fell to my clasped hands in my lap for a moment. I felt myself growing hot and cold by turns. The memory of our tearful goodbye flashed in my thoughts. Taking a calming breath, I looked up again. "How was he?" Somewhere deep inside I knew, but I asked anyway, telling myself that he was glad to be rid of me. Perhaps such news would finally help me to put him out of my mind.

"Broken." Her answer brought an acute pain to my heart, along with the faintest bit of hope. "I have not seen him weep like that since we were both very much younger. But he will recover in time."

"He told me how you brought him to the Opera," I said, biting my lip.

"Yes." She smiled sadly. "And he told me about his time with you, but I have not heard your side of the story." Her eyes prompted me to tell all that I longed to say, and I could not help but think of Erik's eyes prodding me with the same concern.

Sighing with grief, I looked between the two women who had always been there for me. Tears stung at my eyes.

"Tell us Christine," Meg encouraged, her hand giving mine a squeeze.

In a faltering voice, I began. I told them about our stormy first day together, with all of the tears it brought for both Erik and I. How we hurt and comforted each other in turns. The feelings that surged through me each time we touched. My shock at our resemblance to the portrait of Erik's parents. The way Erik held me after that first nightmare, and each one that followed.

I told them of the relatively peaceful week that passed, full of music and amicable conversation with few arguments. I told about my resistance to my growing fondness for the man who was my guide and guardian once again. Of the morning when I allowed him to remove his mask and felt no fear or revulsion.

A lone tear spilled from my eye as I spoke of that trip to the cemetery when I poured out all of my confusion before my father's grave. When I became so sure that it was Erik whom I loved… that we were made for each other. I told them about how he had crushed my body to his and nearly kissed me, right there among the graves, only to pull away muttering an apology. And how he had told his parents' spirits that we were in love when he thought I could not hear. Swallowing back more bitter tears, I told them about my decision to wait to tell Erik that I loved him until my heart belonged to him alone.

Worst of all, I relayed the tale of our journey back to the Opera when I saw Raoul and called out to him. How I had only wanted to end our engagement, and how Erik had misunderstood. I could not stop the tears that rolled down my cheeks. I told of Erik's anger and brooding, my cruel words… our arguments, in the carriage and at the edge of the lake, and my confession that he did not believe, in the boat. Those torturous days spent alone, hoping that Erik would come out of his room so that I could apologize… my aching despair when he never did.

Finally, I told them about that morning that I peered into Erik's room while he was bathing. How he had found me weeping there, among his torn blankets, and he had told me not to cry… whispered that he loved me. How I had told him that I did not mean any of my harsh words… and that I loved him. My eyes were dry, but my heart ached as I told them about our kiss… how wonderful it had been… how I gave myself over to him without a care. Clenching the arm of the couch until my knuckles were white, I told how Erik had pulled away, sobbing and commanding me to leave… And how he had taken me back to Raoul.

By the time I had finished, I was sobbing onto Meg's shoulder. She stroked my back soothingly.

"My dear, Erik did not send you away because he no longer wants you," Mama Giry said in that calm, steadying tone of hers. "He sent you away because he loves you."

"What?" I lifted my head, blinking back more tears. "But he told me that he wanted me to leave. Erik banished me from his life! The wedding mass… He gave me the wedding mass that he wrote for us, and told me to have it performed at my wedding with Raoul."

"Nevertheless, he is not punishing you for turning away from him in the past. He is simply doing what he thinks is best for you."

Her words only served to confuse me further. My head was pounding and my eyes ached from crying.

"I don't understand?" I whispered.

"Do you love Raoul?" she asked evenly.

"Yes," I replied at once. "I've loved him since we played together as children. Yes, I love Raoul… in a way… but I also love Erik. My love for him is different, unlike anything I've known before." My brow furrowed in frustration. "This choice should be so easy. Papa always told me to follow my heart, but it's tearing me in two. Raoul loves me. His family is willing to accept me for his sake. He is close to my own age, rich, and handsome. He is understanding and safe, the ideal fiancé. Dear, sweet Raoul has been predictable since we meant as children. He knew and loved my father nearly as much as I did. If his family had chosen not to accept us, he would have gladly left them and lived as a commoner to be with me… I know it. Raoul is the obvious choice.

"And then there's Erik… My head tells me that no one in her right mind could choose him. For one thing, he's killed people, at the Opera and probably before. He's moody, erratic… Then there's the fact that he lied to me for years, telling me that he was the Angel of Music."

"I told him again and again to give up that façade," Mama Giry said. "Perhaps all of this pain could have been avoided if you knew years ago that your tutor was a man. I did my best to persuade him, but he would not listen. Perhaps I should have found another way to step in."

"No," I shook my head, staring into the distance. "Perhaps it was not such a terrible lie. I wanted so much for it to be true. When I needed an angel, he was there… my comforter and friend when I needed one most. Sometimes I think that I loved him even then. And after I discovered the truth, I wondered sometimes if Erik really was the answer to my father's prayers. He's hardly what I expected… more of a fallen angel. And yet, Papa always said that God works in mysterious ways. An angel could never have held me the way Erik did… An angel wouldn't kidnap me either. Twice he's taken me to his home by force. Why does that idea thrill me? I shouldn't want such things. I should be repulsed… I should hate him for all that he has done, especially for that night when he made me choose between seeing him kill Raoul or staying with him. I did hate him at first… or at least I feared him, but as time went by everything changed." I bit my lip, turning to look at the dear ladies beside me. "I cannot hate Erik. I've tried to forget him, but he will always be there, inside my mind… and my heart. He is a part of me now. I have my happily ever after with Raoul, and all I can do is wish that he were Erik."

"It certainly sounds as if you have made your choice," Mama Giry replied with a knowing smile. She pulled out a plain, white handkerchief and handed it to me. "Erik often does and says confusing things. His words and actions may hurt and trouble you, but that does not mean that he no longer cares. He does not express himself in the way a normal person would, because he has never been taught to do so. But after all of these years I know him as well as anyone, and he loves you, Christine. From the moment he first saw you he has cared for you, but it has taken years for those feelings to develop into real love… for him to learn to love. He sent you away with the noble aspirations of giving you the love and the life that your truly desire. How was he to know that you return his feelings?"

"I told him that I love him," I said, my heart aching even through this new hope.

"But he couldn't believe you," Meg explained. "He thought that you were simply trying to appease his anger after the argument. If you had heard him… the way he sobbed… the way he talked about you…" She glanced at her mother and then back to me. "I was frightened of him at first. I went to hide in my room, but I couldn't stay there when I heard him crying. I listened at the door and heard everything. He is so in love with you that he thinks he will die of a broken heart without you. Mama convinced him that all of that is nonsense; nobody dies of heartache. But it isn't safe for him to stay here after the affair at the Opera. And he's so unhappy in a house full of your memories. He's going to leave Paris because he can't bear it. Isn't that romantic?"

Suddenly Meg turned pale, and I felt the color draining from my own face as the same thought occurred to us both.

"Erik is leaving Paris…" I gasped. "I've been here three weeks… Three weeks. He told you this three weeks ago. Oh, he may have left already." I shot to my feet, trembling from head to toe. "I have to go… I have to return to the Opera before it's too late!"

The doors banged open, startling us all. There stood Raoul, his face red with indignation.

"No Christine," he said, "you will not."

"Raoul…" My heart ached at the pain in his eyes. I never meant to hurt him, and yet I could not run off to the Opera without telling him. I could never do such a thing. "How much did you hear?" I asked, my voice quavering.

"Enough," he said, clenching his jaw as he blinked back tears. "How could you even think of such a thing?" Stepping to my side, he gently cupped my face with one hand, the other resting on my shoulder. "Christine, you must listen to reason. Whatever you believe that you feel for this man cannot protect you from him. And you will need protection. You said yourself that he is unpredictable. He is mad, dangerous, a murderer… I cannot allow you to go back there. He will certainly hurt you, perhaps even kill you, in his rage. Oh, he will mourn later when he realizes what he has done, but what good will that do any of us? Madame Giry, how could you condone such foolishness?"

Mama Giry would have given her defense, but I stayed her with my hand. This was my battle to fight.

"I love Erik," I answered firmly. Gently I disengaged his hands from me, taking them in my own. "I'm sorry Raoul, but I love him. Yes, I do love you as well, but not in the same way… not it the way that you deserve. As for his anger, Erik promised to do his best to conquer it when he apologized to me after he tied me to that chair. He has said repeatedly that he would never hurt me, and I believe him. His fits may make him seem irrational and dangerous, but with me, he always catches himself before he can inflict any serious damage. Twice he restrained himself from killing you for my sake. Ever since the incident with the chair, whenever Erik became angry with me, he would shut himself away in his room until he was calm again. Sometimes the house echoed with threatening music, other times he was silent, but I knew better than to disturb him. When he came out again, usually a few hours later, he would kneel at my feet and beg for forgiveness. I forgave him, and life went on as usual. So you see, you do not need to fear for my safety. My love for Erik cannot protect me from his rage, but his love for me can. Erik would die for me, and he would fight with all that he has to protect me from anything… even himself."

I squeezed Raoul's hands and then released them, looking up into his eyes beseechingly. Slowly, his stony expression faded into one of sorrowful resignation. He shook his head. Tears welled in his eyes, and then he pulled me into a desperate embrace. We stood like that for several minutes, before he pulled back and met my eyes with determination.

"Alright," he said, his voice strong and clear. "I will take you back to him, Christine. I cannot keep you a prisoner here when your heart is with Erik. But if he is dead or foolish enough not to want you back, know that you are always welcome here. Go and be happy, Little Lotte."

"Thank you, Raoul," I sighed, my lips quivering as they curved into a smile.

After bidding the Girys au revoir, I rushed to my room where I quickly changed into the gown I had been wearing when I last saw Erik. Placing my diamond engagement ring on the dresser, I opened the bottom drawer. Slowly, I slid the plain gold band onto my finger, smiling and sighing with relief. Then I gathered the key and wedding mass, and hurried to rejoin Raoul in the hall.

A carriage was waiting for us outside. We made our way to the Rue Scribe entrance of the Opera, unlocking the gate and securing it behind us. Then we descended together into the gothic splendor of the lowest cellars. As we climbed into the boat and Raoul pushed off from the shore, I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer: Please God, do not let me be too late.