She threw his mask in the fire. Of course, he had spares, but it was the gesture. He could tell she was trying very hard, sometimes not succeeding, to cope with his hideousness. He admitted that he kept trying to catch her attention, like a little child petulantly and stubbornly trying to keep the attention of a parent. He cared for her like no other in his life. He gave her little potions to help with the concussion he had given her, apologizing profusely the entire time. At least it hadn't been as severe as it could have been. The bruises on her arms and hands were beginning to fade too. For two weeks, they spent like this and he became her unwavering slave. Anything she could possibly ask for, and even some things she didn't, was laid at her feet. They sang together, sat and told stories to each other, and she even smiled sometimes. He was very careful not to touch her, though, as if touching her would destroy the fragile little dreamery he had built up around them both. Perhaps it would have.
When she was asleep, though, he would sit for hours and curse himself for his weakness around her! He was supposed to be the one in control, not a pitiful dog begging favor from a master! But so he was. She seemed to be relaxing around him, grown used to him. She didn't even shudder and shut her eyes when she saw him anymore. He took her for boatrides on the lake, this time with her wide awake and looking around at the pitch black emptiness in wonder.
"Are we the only people left in the world, Erik?" she wondered aloud in the boat.
"Not really. It sometimes seems that way down here, doesn't it?" he answered. She shrugged a bit.
"It must be lonely," she said, quietly.
"I came down here because it was lonely, Christine. A man such as I…has difficulties with crowds. I like my limbs unbroken." She glanced up at him at this and for a moment, he thought she might cry.
"Erik, it's been very hard for you, hasn't it?" she whispered. He sighed deeply.
"Yes, it has, but it's so much better now that I have you! You've saved me, even for this little time, Christine. That is why I love you so much," he told her.
"Oh, Erik…" she whispered, and he heard her voice crack with a sob. She said nothing else until they got back to the house.
"I've decided, Christine, that we should have a little outing tomorrow evening," he announced as they took their cloaks off.
"An outing?" she asked, dumbly.
"Yes, we shall go for a carriage ride in the Bois! I'll even pack a little picnic for us. I think you've been missing the fresh air, yes?" he said. She was taken so aback by this she staggered in shock.
"The Bois? Outside?" she gasped.
"I do go out from time to time, my dear girl," he said, a hint of cynicism working its way into his voice. She immediately pursed her lips and nodded.
"I'm sorry, Erik, I didn't mean it like that. It's just…we've spent all our time here," she stammered.
"I know. I'm sorry. I've kept you here for too long and I should not have. I will take you to the surface, we will have our carriage ride, and, if this outing goes well, tomorrow I shall drop you off at your dorm," he said. This time, she actually had to grip the wall to keep from toppling over. Erik fought the urge to roll his eyes. Did the girl have no constitution?
"Erik…I would…I would love to spend time with you at the Bois!" she exclaimed suddenly, rewarding him with a smile that made his heart want to burst. He smiled back. She passed by him towards the piano and gave the tips of his fingers a little squeeze.
"Erik, you've made me very happy," she said. Erik was surprised he didn't faint away from joy.
The next day passed with a sort of odd anticipation. He didn't want to let her go, but he certainly didn't want to keep her against her will, which –as comfortable as she had become with him- he knew it was. She was obviously looking forwards to being let go, which hurt his feelings a little, but he tried to ignore it. It was just that she had been cooped up for so long, he told himself. He did have a marvelous idea to use to check on her, though! Thanks to the managers for being idiots and liking the frilly parties as they did.
"Christine, there is going to be a Masquerade Ball in two days," he told her. She eyes flew up from the book she'd been reading. Her eyes immediately dropped to the box he held in his arms.
"Already? I've been here for two weeks?" she exclaimed. She didn't seem exactly displeased, but it seemed she was merely shocked by how much time had elapsed.
"Yes, I apologize. Time can get lost down here. But I have bought you a costume for the Ball and I hope you will wear it," he explained, opening the box for her so she could see. It was a sweet, simple black gown with white trim and a little domino mask. She smiled at it.
"It's lovely!" she said. She turned to face him and he suddenly, with odd shock, noticed how her countenance had changed. She was much paler than she had been before and dark circles shadowed under her eyes.
"Are you well, Christine?" he asked. She suddenly noticed that he meant her complexion and stepped back, covering her face.
"Oh, yes, Erik, dear, pay no mind!" she replied a bit too quickly, fleeing to her room. He followed her in concern.
"Christine, what is wrong?" he asked, grabbing the door before she could shut it. She gave him a sad smile over her shoulder.
"Oh, it's just the air down here, I have trouble sleeping in the chill is all, Erik," she said, waving it off. He frowned. She was lying. He almost grabbed her and shook her, but decided against it. While shaking the truth out of her as if she was a naughty child was the easiest way to get it, he surmised she'd be a little cross with him if he tried it. He'd leave her be for now.
She was very quiet in the carriage. The moonlight made the odd pallor of her features even starker and he began to worry about her. With a shock, he realized why she hadn't been sleeping. Like an idiot, he hadn't thought about her and played his Opera at all hours. That would keep anyone up, but he knew she wouldn't sleep afterwards. The music was too poignant, too emotional, too…awful… He stared at her, the fact that she hadn't said anything touching him deeply. She raised her head from where it rested on the side of the window and smiled at him. It was the reassuring smile sick people give their friends when they are asked how they feel.
"Christine, I am sorry," he told her. She frowned before realizing what he spoke of.
"Oh, Erik, I'm alright!" she insisted.
"Do not lie to me, Christine. I don't like it when you lie," he said. Christine stiffened a little at his tone.
"Erik, it's not your fault. I understand that you aren't used to having anyone in the house and you forget," she answered, her tone very careful, "And I can quite easily snuggle further under the covers and it doesn't bother me! I am beginning to very much like your opera. It just took some getting used to." The wasn't the answer Erik expected. Not by a long shot.
"You've gotten used to me?" he asked. She gave him a smile and sat back, relaxing in the night air.
"Yes, Erik. Don't underestimate yourself- it is possible to get used to you, you know," she said coquettishly.
"Oh is it?" he asked. She shurgged and settled back in her seat. She didn't answer him, but suddenly he had hope, cursed, ugly, awful hope, that she would someday learn to 'get used' enough to him to love him.
She was quite quiet through the next day. Particularly after this latest "development", he was more reluctant than ever to let her go. He considered not letting her go at all, but decided he had to. He had, after all, made her a promise and he knew that he should keep it. He needed to build her trust. And, disgustingly enough, he could not say no to that smile.
Through the next day, as they read together and ate lunch, he noticed how, quiet as she could sometimes be in the house, she looked pensive, almost meditative. He also caughter her staring at him for long periods, although she would turn her head once she saw he noticed. He surmised that she was simply proccupied with the promise of freedom. He wasn't sure if this broike his heart or filled it with rage.
As the carriage carried them to the Bois, she was very quiet, sitting across from him and staring out the window. When he finally tried to strike up a conversation she stared at him so hard it made him uncomfortable. He had asked about other times she'd been there, but she did not answer him. She said nothing for a long time.
"Erik, what happened to you?" she asked suddenlly. He blinked. Other than the stunted conversation at that first dinner, she had never asked him anything about himself.
"How do you mean?" he asked. She motioned to his face.
"I was born like this," he answered quietly. As talkative as he usually liked to be around her, this was something he didn't want to discuss. But he didn't see anything other than softness in her eyes. He swallowed.
"My mother stuck me in a mask and hated me. I don't know what happened to my father. I ran away," he continued. She carefully moved to sit next to him.
"I'm sorry, Erik. Am I…any better than that?" she asked. She looked hopeful, almost pleading for absolution.
"Oh, Christine, of course you are!" he replied. He ventured to touch her hand with his. He was wearing gloves, but he was still very wary about touching her. But he needn't have feared. She smiled at him and curled her fingers around his. His heart began to pound.
"Erik, I…I don't know what to do about you. You've very much confused me!" she told him. "You say I can go home but…but can I come back?" His heart leapt and he almost kissed her right there. He resisted; there was no reason for have her die of shock and fear.
"Of course, dear!" he exclaimed.
"Thank you, Erik. I know I was horrible at first, but I feel awful for you," she whispered and wonder of wonders, laid her head on his shoulder. How this empty-headed child had somehow captured his heart so that a mere touch like this excited him to no end was beyond him. But he couldn't help but enjoy it. He actually dared to rest his head atop hers and she didn't pull away! She didn't push him back. And he almost could swear she snuggled into his chest.
"Christine!" a voice cried from outside. Christine sat up in shock. Erik slammed the window shut and signaled to the driver to race away. As he shut the other window, he saw the pale face of that wretched boy Raoul De Chagney! Damn him! If Christine had been quiet before, now she seemed like she wasn't even breathing.
"Christine? Are you alright?" Erik asked nastily.
"Erik, don't get yourself all worked up over Raoul! He's a foolish boy who thinks himself in love with me," Christine told him. Truthfully, she sounded so annoyed at the boy he forgave her, foolishly. Looking back, he should have jumped from the carriage and killed the boy where he stood. But he didn't. As the ride went on in silence, he broached the subject he'd been dreading all night.
"Here, Christine. This is the key to the gate by the Rue De Scribe. It is the only one so you will not be followed. This leads directly to the lake. Now, once you are at the lake, this key here will fit into a hole in the wall by the lake. It will ring my 'doorbell' so I will know to come and get you," he explained, perhaps a little too quickly. He didn't want to let her go. He handed the two items with her. She sat and stared at the odd-shaped 'doorbell' key. In truth, an alarm would go off if anyone was in the lake anyway, but this gave a different signal so he knew enough not to kill her. She gave him a small smile, although she still seemed puzzled. He sat there, waiting for a rejection, or perhaps for her not even to acknowledge him. But she looked up at him and gave him the sweetest smile, and said words which rang in his head for hours afterwards:
"Erik, I promise I will come back to you…"
