Chapter 2. The Stranger Behind the Mask

The rain fell earnestly above as Erik and Christine exited from one of his many tunnels leading throughout the bowels of the Opera House.

A black carriage already awaited them as Erik helped Christine into it. He joined her and tapped the top of the carriage and it left shortly after that, taking them to a place far away. A immediately silence descended upon the two, not sure what to say after such recent events had taken place.

A sigh suddenly escaped Christine's lips and Erik's attention was drawn to her. He felt guilt wash over him, after reveling in everything that had been said and done below.

Did she leave with me for the Vicomte? Is this more out of pity then? Anger and sadness washed over Erik as he began to think of the many possible reasons why she had come with him. But I gave her a chance to leave with him... maybe she possibly does - no, not possible.

"Erik?" Christine asked softly, interrupting Erik from his thoughts, fortunately.

Erik's head snapped up, breaking him of his disastrous thoughts and he shot daggers at her -his eyes dark- causing fear to grip Christine's insides and her voice to fail her. "Well?" he snapped when she didn't respond. Her eyes rounded fearfully. "Speak already!" he burst out. Christine looked towards the ground and a single tear made its way down her face and he instantly regretted his little outburst. He hadn't meant to... but his outrage had gotten the best of him.

Like every other time. He thought dismally. Perhaps she would have been better off with the Vicomte. He wouldn't have yelled at her.

"Christine." he whispered. She looked up at him, a fearful look in her eyes. He felt guilt clenching his insides. He swallowed the sudden rush of adrenaline and said, "I-I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to snap." he spoke quietly.

She looked at him and for the first time, took his much larger hand into her tiny one, and squeezed. He looked into her concerned and understanding eyes and felt rather nervous. Warmth radiated from the blue orbs, making him feel even worse for his little outburst. Any sort of contact between the two felt not right. He felt he was to unworthy to touch someone like her. She was the epitome of perfection... and he was still was what he was, a beast.

"Where are we going?" she asked, finally finding her voice and courage to look into his eyes.

"To my old home." he spoke softly.

She opened her mouth to say something, but he spoke before the words could leave her mouth. "It's just outside of France my dear." he smiled at his use of words. Perhaps there was hope for them... he only hoped that she didn't come to loath him in time.

xoxo

Christine lay asleep as the hours went by; taking them to the house Erik hadn't been to in years gone by… well so she thought. He hoped that Christine would like it. It would be nothing in comparison to what the Vicomte could offer her.

Anger seethed from him as he once again thought of the young man. What happened underneath the Opera House would never have happened if the Vicomte had never become patron of the Opera Populaire and wooed Christine with petty stories of their childhood. He loved her more than the Vicomte ever would, and would willingly die for her, or go straight into the depths of hell for her. What man could say that and honestly be claiming the truth?

The carriage came to an abrupt stop, interrupting Erik of his thoughts, fortunately again.

It seems that my mind is my living hell…

He waited patiently as the driver came to his side of the carriage and opened the door.

"Monsieur, we have arrived." he spoke nervously. The driver looked away, so as to not be caught staring at the haunting mask which seemed to be glowing in the crisp night air. Erik gave him a few francs and the driver gave a nervous thanks.

"Christine." Erik gently shook her, trying to wake her up. Her eyes slowly fluttered open, and her gaze landed upon Erik. She sat up immediately, and drew herself from the carriage with Erik.

By now, the skies had already grown dark, and the rain still continued to beat steadily, followed by a few cracks of thunder here and there. Christine shuddered as the rain soaked her to the skin. She followed quietly after Erik who was heading towards a nicely sized home. She flinched as another clap of thunder filled the night sky. She had been terribly frightened of thunderstorms as a child, and still was. There was no easy way around that.

Once inside, Erik showed her where her bedroom was, and bid her goodnight, telling her that it was quite late and that she needed to rest some more. She didn't argue.

She turned away from the closed door and sighed. He seemed rather distant. She knew he loved her, yet he was now always trying to avoid eye contact, and keep to himself. And she knew she couldn't blame him... not after betraying him for Raoul many times before.

"If only Raoul hadn't come that fateful day..." she whispered to herself. "Things would have been much simpler." she tried to make herself believe that was the root of all the problems.

Her attention was caught on the small room, and she walked over to a small little fire place in the corner of the room, and lit the logs that happened to be in there, with a bunch of matches she had found on a little table, hoping to warm up the cold, little room. She waited a few, and as soon as the fire grew to be bigger, she began to rub her hands together and look at the flames that were growing in size.

After a few moments of reveling in the warmth of the fire, she stood up and gazed around the room. It was a very beautiful room; as if the architect liked this particular room. In the middle of the room was a four poster, canopy bed. It was decorated with mahogany and cream silk bedding. The walls even matched the colours of the bed and there was a little desk next to the window filled with inks, quills, parchments and lots of old letters. Next to the bed, was a bookshelf over crammed with novels? She picked a random book from the shelf.

"Les Misérables." she spoke, running her finger across the worn cover, causing dust to accumulate on her finger. "Hasn't been read in a long time." she noted, as she set the book down and decided that she would read it one day.

She undid the laces on her wedding gown and corset, leaving on only her chemise, to sleep in.

Perhaps I'll wear that wedding dress one day for real.

She smiled as she climbed into the rather large bed. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was asleep instantly, filled with dreams of the endless night and her masked hero.

xoxo

Sunlight filtered the room when Christine woke up. It was only seven in the morn, but Christine decided to get cleaned up and see if her masked lover was around.

Lover. She caught herself on the word and blushed. She had never thought of him in that way before, but she decided she liked that new term for him. All of a sudden her thoughts were rampaged of kissing him the previous night. She recalled his soft inviting lips and... she blushed realizing her thoughts were wanton.

Shaking herself back into reality, she left the room. She should not be thinking of him that way... at least not yet. As she wandered the halls, she could hear the beautiful sound of Erik playing on a piano in another room.

The first room she landed in happened to be a kitchen. And seeing all the utensils, she decided she would start breakfast for him. It'd be a nice surprise and she could find out more about the man who really seemed like a stranger to her at the moment. As she shuffled around the kitchen looking for food, she decided she'd make him an omelet.

I hope my cooking suffices. She thought.

She had seen people cook before, but had never really done it herself, having traveled around her whole life and never really getting the chance to learn.

She soon found the eggs and began to crack them. She never quite realized how hard it was to crack an egg till she was picking the fragments of the egg's shell out of the bowl. She laughed at her stupidity. She definitely wasn't telling Erik how bad she was.

One thought that struck her mind though , was the house that he said had been old, seemed clean and had food in it... which meant he would have had to have come here not to long ago... was he planning it for me? Don Juan was planned out... maybe he planned out afterwards...

She dropped the thought, trusting Erik, and continued to care to the food that had been completed. She laid it out nicely on the table -nice cutlery and all- , and went to go tell Erik. But as she neared the room he was in, she started to become nervous.

"Get a hold of your self!" she muttered to herself angrily. She couldn't understand the sudden nervousness. She had never been nervous around him before! He usually was the one that made her worries go away. But he was the Angel of music then. Her thoughts nagged and reminded.

She stood at the back of the room, deciding she'd wait till Erik was finished.

You nervous wreck, you! Christine silently berated herself.

"Toccata and Fugue in D Minor." Erik stated when he finished. He didn't turn to face her though, staring at the ivory and ebony keys of his piano in front of him, noting that he needed to buy an organ for his home.

Stolen from her thoughts, Christine looked up in shock. How had he known she was there? She shook her thoughts, thinking he was a magician. Recalling what he said, she gave an "Oh", already knowing what he had been playing, but too scared to say anything.

He finally turned to face her and produced a red rose with a black ribbon tied around its stem, from behind his back. He handed it to her and she smiled. At least she smiled. I wonder if I can make her smile more often...

"I made breakfast!" she piped up, suddenly recalling the food she had set out for him. He smiled and nodded, before standing up and following Christine out of the room.

For a man of few words, he sure knows how to make my heart flutter. Christine thought as she walked a few paces ahead of him. Her face reddened as she felt his gaze on her back. Calm down. They both sat down, Erik across from Christine. Christine smiled at him, trying to put him at ease around her. He gave her a slight smile, but returned his gaze to his plate. The two both ate in silence.

"Do you like it?" Christine suddenly asked, trying to break the silence. She hadn't eaten much; she had been to busy watching him eat and trying to analyze his reaction. But she was finding it quite difficult with his face being motionless and half obscured with a mask.

"It's delicious." Erik stated, deciding to throw her a bone. It wasn't the best he'd ever had, but he figured that she'd probably never cooked before... considering she had spent her life traveling and as a chorus girl in the Opera. If she did happen to stay, he decided he'd teach her more about the arts of cooking.

If she did stay. His bitter thoughts reappeared for the umpteenth time.

Christine smiled. The simple gesture made his lie seem worth it and his heart swell. "Perhaps you'll play for me later?" Christine suggested.

"Absolutely." Erik said happily. Christine smiled at that.

"But first I shall do the dishes." Christine stood up and began to clear the empty dishes away.

"I will help." Erik said, standing up immediately.

"No, that's alright. You go start getting ready, I'll be done quickly." Erik nodded, not wanting to argue. He was relieved she had said no, because he was dieing to get out of there, where he could breathe again.

I'm too old to be sweating over a girl like a love sick boy. But Erik couldn't help but thinking that way of her...

Instead of going to the music room like had had said he would, he found himself in his bedroom, staring at the wall, afraid of himself and most of all, the love and pent up emotions he was feeling for her at this very moment.