Another month came and went and Amelia had used Erik's library to fill in the holes of her timeline. Initially he was surprised at her willingness to learn as a woman, but over time he grew used to it. She found it difficult at first to read in French, conversation was always her strongest suit. Amelia spent all of her energy perfecting her accent so as not to annoy anyone and enough vocabulary to get by. At this point she felt almost completely fluent, every once in awhile there was a word she wasn't familiar with but Erik would usually be able to provide her with it.

Once she requested to hear his English and he laughed at her, repeating that he was awful. She persisted and he finally complied. His vocabulary was limited but his accent was impeccable, although more British. She dared him to tackle her American accent. He did so jokingly emphasized the a's and e's to her delight. Erik was a quick learner and she had him speaking English in no time, his accent much more American after her tutelage.

Amelia itched to ask him for singing lessons but despite all of their time together she felt shy about bringing up certain issues. She never heard him sing and concluded that he must tackle his own music after she fell asleep. At times she longed to ask him to sing to her but it felt as private as asking about his love life and as forbidden. They spoke about music often but she never heard him sing or play. She felt that she had not yet gained enough of his trust to be shown that part of his world.

This proved true of herself as well, she did not have any desire to embarrass herself. However, one morning as she brushed her hair and twisted it up as usual, she mindlessly began to hum. At first it started off random, but cautiously evolved in to a rendition of "Think of Me" from Webber's musical. She thought it would be quiet enough to remain secret but as she finished her hair and the final cadenza she felt a hand on her shoulder that made her jump.

"Geez!" she squeaked forgetting the inappropriate colloquial language use, "Sorry, Erik, I mean, please, you frightened me. Please don't sneak up on me you are too skilled."

She turned to see a masked smile—after their time she could almost decipher his looks just by his eyes. "I'm sorry, Cherie, I did not mean to startle you, but I was listening to your song, it's intriguing."

Shit, shit, shit, she thought helplessly, unsure of how to proceed. She opted for innocence rather than an explanation.

"I hardly think you could call that a song, it was just mindless. Perhaps I heard it somewhere." She saw his eyes narrow as they often did when she had to tell a lie to cover her past. Luckily she did not see this face often but it got more piercing each time.

"What of it?" she added innocently hoping she could break the silence.

He appeared to be trying to formulate his response carefully, "I've never heard anything like that before. Sort of simple but planned. I wondered where it came from." His eyes pierced in to her and she wished she could tell him everything. A common wish of hers but for now ignorance would have to suffice.

"It might be from when I was a child, I'm not sure, it just came to me, I don't even think I remember the words."

"I think they were in English," he said casually. Had she spoken some of the lyrics? "Let us see!" he said grabbing her arm almost forcefully leading her out to the music room. Her heart beat furiously, was she changing things that ought not to be meddled with? Was it only a matter of time before she messed this up?

She tried to remain calm as he sat at the organ and began to compose the accompaniment to the song. It was nearly identical but yet more complex and beautiful that what Webber had done. The melody rang out clear and for a moment she got lost in the poetic irony of the situation. The music grabbed her and as if in a trance she began to hum along.

"Louder!" he boomed a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

The timbre of his voice brought her back to reality before she could betray her era and she realized this had gone too far.

"Erik, stop, you're making fun of me and I don't like it."

At that he stopped and stared at her with a strange blank stare. She knew he was trying to manipulate this music out of her and yet he looked almost hurt at the suggestion.

"Making fun?" he mused, "How so? By playing your song that you have no memory of?"

She took a breath and dared to say, "Haven't you ever gotten a song in your head and you have no idea where it came from?" She saw the words register to some dark place in his soul and for a minute she thought he might lose his temper but then he got up from the piano and walked soundlessly out.

She felt a tear betray itself down her cheek and she furiously wiped it away and followed him. He nearly made it to his chambers alone but she caught up with him.

"Erik, what have I done?" she nearly screamed trying to understand what was going on in his head.

He turned to her fisted clenched, "You continue to hide things from me."

She stood her ground, "Why must you know everything about me just yet? You do not divulge all of your secret s to me?"

A sound argument that made him think, but he still had more to say, "And yet I do not lie to you."

She thought about this, he did not lie to her, he kept things but he had never lied to her outright as far as she knew. Still she had to protect herself, "Why do you assume I am lying to you? I have done nothing but try to gain your trust."

He inched towards her, calculating, "I know when I am being lied to, I know when you are lying to me. I know you, I know your eyes…" he stopped as his voice raised a desperate octave betraying his hurt, "I thought I knew your heart."

She closed the gap between them, "If you knew my heart you would know that anything I choose not to tell you is because I am simply not ready. Why will you not trust that?" She held his hand which grew tense at the contact, "Just as perhaps there are things you are not ready for?"

He grew less sure as their bodies grew close enough to touch. She noticed he was trembling a bit and worried it might be from anger but suddenly he broke their hands and grabbed her wrists, pressing her against the wall of his chambers. He did not hurt her but it was forceful and she could not break free. His face was close enough to kiss.

She felt his warm breath on her face as he spoke, "Do not think you can manipulate me with affection. It would not be wise."

Amelia knew that the moment was coming and decided she had waited long enough, "I thought you knew my heart better than that. Don't see that I care for you?" His grip did not loosen but his body trembled again at her words.

His words stung but were rooted in pain, "How could you ever…" while his guard was down before he could speak the next words she leaned in and kissed his masked lips wishing they were flesh. He dropped her wrist and retreated backwards, looking scared and angry. Amelia was becoming angry herself and she did not back down.

"Why can you not believe me and let me love you. I want to kiss your own lips. You do not trust me enough to see? Then here perhaps this will convince you," she pulled the silk sash from around her waist and tied it around her eyes until she could not see anything. She backed up until she felt the cool stone wall.

She spoke calmly, all of her sense heightened now that she had lost one, "If you do not feel the same, that is one matter and I apologize for acting a schoolgirl. If you care for me, let me know you, let my hands know you before my eyes." She felt her breathing quicken and heard his normally silent breaths quicken as well. For a moment she thought he had left her and her heart seized. She felt a fool.

Then she heard something fall to the floor. She held her breath and waited. A hand grabbed her wrist and moved it up until it felt flesh. The flesh was cool and alien, but not foreign. She felt a jaw covered by thin skin, then rough lips, his warm breath escaped them in a contented sign as she explored his face with a light tough. She moved to his cheeks, sunken and misshapen even through touch she could tell. His nose did not exist, but the skin there was surprisingly smooth. He had no ears, and the bones above his eyes did not feel completely formed. She was neither surprised nor sickened. This was Erik and she loved him, not the image or the myth, but the flesh and blood man.

Her hands found their way to the back of his neck and she pulled him towards her. She felt tears that were not her own on her wrist and then her own cheek as she pulled him in to her. His kiss was tentative but not inexperienced. As her lips touched his she felt a sensation in her stomach and as her lips moved with his it got stronger and more urgent. Her hands were in his hair and face pulling him towards her afraid that this moment would end forever.

It was clear that he wanted her and she did not know if he would give in to this desire. His arms wrapped her tightly and held her close even after their lips unlocked. She felt his face bury in to her hair, holding it, inhaling her scent as his body shook with silent sobs. She rubbed his back and whispered close to him, "Please Erik, don't, you're safe, I'm here. I love you."

He finally whispered back to her, "I can't… not… my mask… please… you can't see, I won't let you see." Before she could argue, her blindfold was off and his mask was replaced on his face. His posture straightened and you almost couldn't tell that he had just been weeping. She walked towards him and ran a hand through his hair, but as it neared his face he grabbed her wrist and flung her back screaming, "No!"

Amelia landed on the ground hard but was more hurt that he still didn't trust her; she began to cry "I was not going to remove your mask, Erik. I would never without your permission! I just wanted to touch the one part of you not covered!" She stood up quickly, stared at the confusion and hurt in his eyes, and ran out of the room hoping he felt her door slam.