Aminta was waiting up for Erik when he returned four hours after he left to escort the Persian out of the Parisian underground. He didn't even acknowledge her when he returned, though she was sitting crossly in his usual chair by the fire.

"Ah-hem?" She cleared her throat to gain his attention and succeeded.

"Get out of my chair." Commanded Erik wearily.

"You are such an asshole you know that? That man was legitimately worried about you and you just kicked him out. You would have left him in the torture chamber all night, wouldn't you have?" Aminta demanded, folding her arms in a gesture that suggested she had no plans to obey.

"Don't speak about what you do not know. Get out of my chair." Aminta obeyed this time, moving behind the chair to continue harassing the masked man. Erik sat and closed his eyes.

"Where have you been for four hours, it should have only taken you two hours max to take him out."

"I had errands to run."

"You didn't hurt him did you?" Aminta demanded frankly.

Erik stood and glared at Aminta, both angry and hurt at the accusation. He had thought she had more trust in him than this. "I did not hurt the Daroga, Aminta. He is a constant bother to me, but I could not possibly harm the man. If I wanted harm done to him I would have done it when he let my enemy into my home to steal the woman I loved." With that Erik stalked past her, moving into his room and slamming the door behind him.

Aminta stalked right after him and pounded the door before grabbing the handle to test it. To her immense surprise the handle gave way and the door swung open. She couldn't suppress an audible gasp at the sight she was met with.

The room was a mess. There was torn fabric and broken glass strewn all over the floor, and splintered coffin in the center of the room. Amidst the destruction were empty vials and needles, some broken and shattered, and others lined up full and neat on top of a small table. There was nowhere to sit but the floor, nearly every inch of which was covered in debris, and nowhere at all to sleep. There were crumpled up papers of what looked like musical compositions, as well as ink stains on the walls and floor where vials looked as if they had been thrown across the room. The only thing that seemed untouched was a full length mirror that hung on the wall, partially covered by a strip of torn fabric. It was such a stark contrast to the rest of the immaculately kept house that Aminta did not even notice Erik's enraged figure until he had struck her hard across the face.

"GET OUT!" He bellowed so loud she was certain all of Paris had heard. The sound was so angry and heartbroken Aminta could have wept. In typical fashion she bottled her pain, however, and lashed out against him, doing the only thing she knew she could do to hurt him.

In one swift, bitter motion, Aminta tore off Erik's mask.

Aminta had pictured this moment in her mind a hundred times a hundred different ways, but it was still nothing like she had imagined. His face was horrid, everything Leroux had said and worse. It truly was the face of a man born dead, with skin eerily pale and translucent it showed every blue vein pulsing beneath. There were open sores on his face from where the mask fit improperly. His eyes were so far sunk into his skull the only color that showed from this distance was the yellow reflection of the light, much like an animal's eyes shine in the dark. The wig upon his head and fallen when the mask was removed, showing wisps of thin brown hair where the top of his head was less deformed than his face. While his upper lip was grotesquely malformed, his lower lip remained familiarly full and well shaped. But perhaps the most startling thing about the man in front of Aminta was the vision of him breaking right before her eyes. Gone was the tall, powerful, commanding figure and present now was a pitiful, anguished gargoyle making every attempt to hide from the light he could find.

Before Aminta could even respond beyond shocked horror, she had fallen out of the room as the door slammed closed and locked behind her. She stood staring at the door, porcelain mask in hand, dumbstruck by what she had just seen. It was too much for her to take in all at once, and the normally stoic girl found herself walking on shaking legs to her room, locking the door behind her. There, she all but collapsed into bed and wept, clutching the mask to her chest.

She wept for herself, for the stress and strain of her new life in Paris. She wept for the friends and family she feared she would never see again. She wept the trust between herself and Erik which had just been shattered. She wept for the dear friend she knew she had lost in her moment of stupidity.

But more than anything, Aminta wept for Erik. She had never seen a man break so visibly before, and it shattered her. What horrors must he have gone through to be reduced from such a powerful man to one so small and afraid? She was angry at the world he lived in, where he was forced to wear a mask and keep people at a distance, fearing them as much as they feared him… though she knew in her heart her world would not be any different for him. Oh they would pretend not to care about his face; even she had diluted herself into thinking she would not be horrified. But she was. His face was wretched to look upon, and she hated herself for thinking that. She hated every woman who had ever entered his life, for she knew in her heart he had not been born this way. No, torture and torment had turned him into a man capable of extortion and murder. She had seen his brighter side, his smile and laugh and she knew that in his heart he was as normal as any other man, although brilliant and eccentric.

The sound of wood splintering and glass breaking from Erik's room could be heard from her own, and she sat up in bed clutching the mask in both hands. Looking down on it, she traced it outside and in, trying to learn its curves. Porcelain… it must have been worth a fortune in this day and age. It was beautifully made, too. The outside shone in the candlelight, and the inside was matte and still warm. She held it to her face, trying desperately to see the world from his eyes and failing. The mask didn't cut into her skin the way she was sure it his, the holes for her eyes didn't quite line up with the bridge of the nose. The smell of the thing was intoxicating, an exotic combination of blood, tea, and spices she had always imagined she smelt on Erik whenever he ventured close to her. It smelled how she imagined the Silk Road in China would smell…

She wasn't quite at what point during the night she fell asleep, but when she awoke again the noise from Erik's room had ceased. She sat up, still clutching the mask, and moved cautiously to the door. Moving out of her room, she found the main living quarters abandoned. Either Erik was out, or still in his room which by now must have been incomprehensibly shattered and torn. Deliberately she knocked on his door, trying to steady her nerves. She felt as if she were about to hand a piece of meat to a starving tiger, and was deathly afraid of being bit in the process.

There was movement inside, and Aminta knocked again. "Erik… Erik I know you're in there. Please come out." And please don't kill me, she thought to herself. "I have your mask…"

After a few moments the door opened the slightest crack and a gloved hand reached out expectantly. She was tempted to make him step out to get it, but decided not to push her luck and she placed the mask in his open hand.

Fluidly the hand retracted and the door closed and locked once more. Aminta sighed and rested her forehead on the door. "Look… I'm sorry. I wouldn't want to talk to me either. But you hit me, what was I supposed to do? I think you owe me an apology too, you know."

The door flew open, and Aminta stumbled back. Erik stepped out of the room, tall and powerful once again… but there was something different about him now. Aminta couldn't place it for the life of her, but she know immediately she didn't like it.

"Erik owes you nothing." He spoke coldly, so much less melodically than how he usually addressed her… and he also spoke in the third person, which alarmed Aminta more than anything. "He has given you food, wine, a career, and place to live, which is far more than anyone deserves from him."

"…Erik, what's –"

He cut her off, grabbing her arm roughly and dragged her to the wall which opened up into the catacombs. Try as she might, Aminta could not pull herself free as he dragged her deliberately through the darkness.

"Let me go, Erik!" She commanded for what must have been the tenth time when finally he stopped.

"As you wish, Mademoiselle." Erik did let her go, and was suddenly absent in the darkness. Aminta froze and reached out, wheeling around in every direction looking for him. She yelped when he hand fell upon a damp wall made entirely of human bone. She was suddenly completely and utterly alone in the underground labyrinths of Paris.

Aminta had betrayed Erik's trust, and for that her punishment was death.