He had chosen the very end of the train as a place to think. There was nobody around, neither was there anyone who would dare take a step there, no matter how safe it was meant to be, what with the sun's rays shining through the clouds. Erik ran his hands over his face, looking at the receding landscape of Paris in front of him. He was glad he had left that wretched hole of a place people called a city; just how he left is his concern. He should have left her behind. He should have made her realize her mistake, the error of the choice she so mentioned.

What was he doing here, with her? Why did he go along with her thoughts of possible redemption? Why had he let himself believe her? He leaned heavily on the safety rail, wind hitting his face and blowing his orderly clothes and wig slightly. Erik could feel his scars throbbing beneath the mask and his vision was much darker than usual on his right eye, all because she had come back and they had to flee and mix in with crowds. No, he couldn't blame her for his discomfort, yet… he had been ready to stay beneath the Opera House, to finally let her go and simply cease to exist.

Fate had different plans, he reasoned bitterly. She could have been a happy, normal woman for the rest of her life, but instead she stayed with the monster and not the knight. Her soft heart had been too compassionate and kind, and she pitied the demon that fell in love with the angel. He thought he had finally understood what it meant to love her, the moment she showed him what real affection felt like through her kiss, but now he was baffled by the emotion all over again.

He was ranting within himself as he felt completely at loss. Christine had accepted him back somehow, but what if she only stayed with him as… a student? What if she only wanted some form of friendship and his music? He knew she had to at least care for him in some way - otherwise, she wouldn't be here, she wouldn't have planted a kiss on his lips twice. The loving hug, his very first, would've had the same moving effect on him, maybe even the look in her eyes would've sufficed and she must've known that.

He was sure he would die without her. He would break once more at the feelings she couldn't ever return but, this time around, simply wither away. He fiddled with the ring on his small finger. How he wished it was she wearing it, but he couldn't risk this, the small, frail companionship they had built in a day, with yet another marriage proposal. Erik would have to wait until she was ready - until they both were, and he would make do with whatever she wished to offer as a relationship. It certainly hadn't helped to hear her calling him husband as she stood up to the meddling officer that had nearly ruined their escape, knowing it was all a foolish act to cover up their suspicious circumstances.

Having her as a student, he thought sadly. Is still good compared to not having her at all.

The door behind him slid open, making him straighten and simply look ahead. He knew Christine's presence well enough; he needn't look to know who it was. "Erik, are you alright?"

He turned his head to look at her, still leaning on the rail, and he could see the worry in her eyes. She was incredibly uneasy, glued to the door. "Of course. Did something happen?"

"You left," she said simply. She eyed the metal he had his hands on. "That moves rather dangerously, doesn't it?"

"I needed to think for a moment, Christine. Why don't you step outside? It mustn't be good to stay inside for so long."

"I'd rather not."
"Are you scared?" He questioned, turning towards her fully and extending a hand out for her to take. She did with a little hesitation, her left hand in his right, and stepped forward, sliding the door shut. It was after pulling her lightly towards him that she finally stood next to him, viewing the receding horizon in front of them. "It is perfectly safe, though you might want to keep off the railing to make sure of that."

She was silent, still not letting go of his hand. "You truly don't have to act like this around me, Erik."
"Come again?"
"You know what I mean," she said, turning towards him. They stood facing each other, Christine's head turned upwards to look him in the eye. "I saw you before I opened the door. You looked miserable as you were enveloped in thought, but as soon as I stepped in here, your whole demeanor changed. I truly want to be with you, to trust you, but it will never happen if you flee from me."

"You say flee like I am scared of you," he said, dropping her hand as if it was hot metal. His hands came to grip the railing tightly. "Wasn't it you who was always afraid of being near me?"

"Not anymore and you know that. I meant that you're afraid of sharing emotions, of breaking down the walls you erected around yourself."
"Those shields were built for a reason, Christine."

"I know," the woman insisted. She touched his hand, knuckles white from clutching the metal, speaking nearly urgently. "All I want is for you to see that… that I am not trying to hurt you."

"You will not like anything of what is inside."

She thought, sadly, of the words she'd spat at him in pure anger when he had forced the bouquet of flowers into her hands. "I don't believe it to be all bad, but even then I will learn. No matter how hard, be it by sheer force of will or not, I will learn to accept it just like I have accepted your appearance. You've lived for too long being reduced to just some monster and I'm the only one willing to try to get you to see your own humanity."

"You will never be happy that way. Even if you – we - break the walls down, what about you? What am I to give you in return, what could I possibly offer as a man?"

Now she thought of what to say. "Just stay by my side and be the good man I know you can be, show me what tenderness you gave me as a girl, when you listened to me and helped me when no one else would."

"You want my music," he said, his mind turning back to what he had thought of before. She wanted a musical companion and he felt ice fill his soul, but her hand only gripped his tighter.

"No, don't say it like that."

"Then how, Christine? What am I supposed to give you in return? Friendship? Training? It's driving me mad not knowing," he near begged. Tears slipped from her eyes, silently dripping onto the floor as they dragged the heavy makeup she wore down with it. Her right hand was on his uncovered cheek now and she pulled him down to her.

It was a short, sweet kiss, and she could only hope he'd be able to get what her words couldn't describe: he'd given her his heart and she wanted him to have all of hers someday. The tears that sprang to his own eyes as she embraced him resulted from mixed emotions as comfort and dread both coursed through him. It was too late for him to turn back; he now knew what loving meant, and he was intent on showing it for as long as he could. He had a lot to make up for.

"Let's go back, Erik. You should remove that mask for whatever time remains until Rouen." She pulled back, looking at him. Gently, he brushed his fingers against her face to wipe away the remaining tears in the corner of her eyes. And so they made their way back, with her holding his hand weakly and leading the way.

Though he gave her permission, Erik still flinched when Christine removed his mask and wig, the coolness of the room hitting his deformity. She had been kind enough to lock the compartment door behind them and pull all curtains just nearly shut, arguing that it would be too dark to see if completely closed. He moved away as her fingers touched the scars, still sensitive from the mask, but he stayed still when she tried again, seeing her eyes wide with kindness like he'd never seen before. She studied the deformed half, memorizing everything, from the engorged lips to the amber-like right eye, back to the dip where his right nostril should have mirrored his left and up to the uneven tufts of hair on his scalp. The way his nose is shaped… I wonder if it causes him any trouble with his breathing.

When she had satisfied her curiosity, she began to look at his normal side, realizing how cruel fate had been towards him; the deformity was all that kept him from being a very handsome man to most ideals, and it showed on the half of his face it had left untouched. His left, dark brown eye, his sharper-with-age face, and the elegant yet weary features of his face would have made him stand out among men at the Opera.

He burst into tears at the onslaught of acceptance and she could do nothing but hold him through it, both of them sinking to the seats as they clung to each other. Erik had never cried like this, with heart-wrenchingly quiet sobs and whimpers that left him emotionally bare to her eyes, finally letting out for once what he had hidden within himself for what seemed like an eternity. Christine prayed, prayed for strength for both of them as she shushed him. There was still about an hour left until their destination and so much had happened already; she continued to pray silently.

A/N: This is one of the chapters that my perfectionist side cannot leave alone. I've edited this a great many times since it was first written and I think I am mostly satisfied with how it came out. I hope everyone is happy with it, as well, and I'd love to hear what everyone thinks. My schedule has unintentionally hit both December holidays that I personally celebrate, so I'll return with the next chapter this New Years Eve.