Christine awoke laying on the floor, with a soft pillow beneath her head and a blanket covering her. Disoriented, she sat up, stretching her slightly pained muscles. Why had she slept on the floor, fully clothed? Where…?

Oh, she realized, glancing around herself.

"My apologies, Christine. There wasn't much left behind in an appropriate state to offer you some comfort as you slept."

She was startled by his, Erik's, voice. Looking up at him, blinking away her remaining drowsiness, she realized he wore one of his wigs and the impeccable state of his clothing had returned, his stark white mask on his face as usual. He held a neat pile of clothing, which he placed beside her. Erik spoke once more as he straightened his posture.

"I… also thought you would like to wear another dress. I took the clothing meant to be worn after the performance as you left it in your dressing room, a room which was gracefully spared by the fire. I apologize for the invasion."

"I appreciate the gesture, Erik. Thank you," she smiled carefully. As soon as she took the clothes and stood, he turned his back to her and began to walk away to give her privacy.

"Wait!" He stopped, not risking a look at her. She stuttered as she spoke, her face warm. "I will need your help with my corset, could you stay? It will not be for long, I promise."

"But, Christine, it would not be appropriate of me - "

"Please, Erik, I hate to ask this of you but I really need your help."

"Fine," he agreed, lacing his hands behind his back, standing still as a statue. She could see how tense he was, especially as she began to undress, her own back turned to his. The silence was deafening, the only sound being the rustle of clothing as Christine changed. A few minutes passed before she moved towards him, tapping him on the shoulder. She was bright red as he turned to her, as she wore nothing but her chemise, stockings, and untied corset. His gaze, however, remained respectfully at her face. She bit her lip and turned; it was alien to her, having a man help her dress, and it felt strange. Erik, much to her surprise, laced her corset much quicker than she had expected.

"Thank you," she mumbled, and she could have sworn she saw him blush as well in the short second it took for him to turn away again. Christine went back to the pile of clothing and finished changing on her own with no problem, stuffing the old outfit in a bag Erik gave to her. "I'm done," she announced, and Erik looked at her again. He eyed her for the slightest moment before speaking.

"I went back to my home while you slept. It's safe enough, though it's beyond repair." He spoke curtly and tightly. "I'm aware that you may not want to go back there, but it is the only way to access a safe exit to the above. Shall we go?" She nodded, hesitantly offering him her hand as the other held the bag she carried. He took her right hand in his left after a moment, and they began their journey.

Erik's home was much brighter than she expected, being this deep underground, and the light hurt her eyes as the wall opened at Erik's push of a button. He allowed Christine to step out of the narrow hallway before him and he was directly behind her as she gasped and very nearly jumped back. The sight hurt her deeply; everything was absolutely trashed, as sheet music was ripped apart on the floor (his compositions, his beautiful music!), and tables were turned. What made tears fall down her cheeks and onto the paper beneath her feet was the message the mob had left in their rage at not being able to find him, written in red and black ink on the wall. Monster.

She backed away, only stopped by feeling Erik's body behind her. Then, she simply turned and placed her head against his chest, arms around his waist, and he tensed in her embrace. She whimpered, a sound that hurt as he realized she cried for him, her good heart unable to take the insults and threats he'd heard for decades splattered on the wall. Erik was lost on how to make her stop crying. He put his hand on her face and pushed it away from his chest, his trembling hand caressing in an attempt to comfort her. Christine wiped her tears away with the back of her own hand and smiled sadly up at him.

His breath caught in his throat and he staggered back and to the side before he fell into the darkness of the hall behind them. He turned his head, unable to look at her kindness as she saw him, but a small hand rested against his uncovered cheek. Mismatched eyes met Christine's compassionate look as she stood on her tiptoes and hesitantly kissed the corner of his lips before he pulled away. Her big, puffy eyes stared straight into his own.

"What am I to do, Christine?" he whispered, clutching her hands. "I meant it last night and I mean it now. You can leave, I will never seek you again, I swear, just go."

She stepped back, broken glass crunching beneath her feet, and snatched her hands away, staring at him in surprise. "Erik… do you not want me here anymore?"

"Of course I do," he said, his voice breaking. "But I cannot bear the thought of you pretending to want me, like all the things I did that harmed you were nothing but a bad dream, being unhappy by my side out of pity for your Erik. Are you not engaged to another man?"

"No, Erik, remember what I said last night; look." She lifted her left hand in front of her face. There was no ring to be seen on her fingers or around her neck. "I called it off before Raoul took the boat."

"Why? Why would you, after I set you free?" he choked out. Christine breathed deeply.

"How could I, knowing I had left you behind? I would have been consumed by guilt, and... I truly do mean it when I say I want to be with you. I would have run away already if I didn't, don't you think?"

"I thought…"

"What, Erik? Did you think me so cruel as to lie so coldly?" she paused, anger flaring inside her. "Or enough of a harlot to play with you while in love with another?"

"Christine!"

"No, Erik! This is a decision I made on my own, and I truly do not appreciate you thinking I have malicious intent behind it!" She turned her back to him, clenching her fists.

He had been completely silent and still as she spoke back, his cold façade only cracking as she spoke those last words. He stepped tentatively towards her as she finished, having never witnessed such a temper in her. He must have truly made a mistake - and God forbid he wouldn't be able to fix it.

"Forgive me, Christine. I should not have doubted you." Erik tread lightly. "Don't ever believe I think of you in that way. You are not cruel, much less a..." His insides turned at the word harlot and he was unable to say it out loud.

She sighed and turned slowly to him. "I should not have spoken to you like that. Your doubt is all but unjustified, but… we must learn to trust each other, and it will never happen if we don't both try to."

Silence fell and they could not look at each other. He knows very little of kind human contact, Christine reminded herself, and she could not lose herself every single time he doubted her, something that would most likely happen many times. As she glanced at him, she realized just how vulnerable he looked at that moment, more than likely still thinking of her angry words. His gaze turned forward and his usual collected behavior came back just as quickly.

"Come. We should not stay down here much longer."

A/N: These first few chapters are a bit slow, but I'd like to hear what everyone's thoughts are so far. Fair warning that this fic is also edited by me, so if anyone spots a typo I missed, I'd be happy to fix it if anyone could point it out.Big thanks to those that have favorited, followed, and reviewed!