Erik was checking his email that evening before going to bed, when the last email he read made him freeze. "Nicole?" he called uncertainly, wondering if he was reading it right.

She left the kitchen and went over to him, putting her hands on his shoulders. "What's wrong?"

He showed her the email he'd gotten. "Did you suggest this?"

She read the email, her brow furrowing. It was an invitation from the producer of the opera to co-direct. She leaned closer over his shoulder. "This is... this is great. Your talent is being recognized." She turned to kiss his masked cheek. "You no longer have to hide in the shadows."

He smiled. "Thanks to you, my love."

"Are you going to accept?" she asked.

"Of course," he said. "They need all the help they can get." He wrote the reply and sent it off. He added only two conditions: everything he ordered would be complied with, and he wanted complete control of Nicole's scenes to make them perfect.

He got a response back only ten minutes later. Yes, on both conditions, since the producer well understood what it was like to have a spouse as a star.

Erik smiled. At this rate the Opera House would be his again within the year.

It was surreal, going to work on Monday with Erik. He was incredibly nervous as we walked in.

"I have never given orders from the middle of the stage before," he said, "I don't know if I can do this. I have always worked from the shadows."

I smiled at him and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "You'll be fine, Erik. I promise. Just remember to breathe, and be patient. It takes time to come up to the standards of the Opera Ghost."

"Hm."

"It took me 20 whole years," I added.

He stared at me. "What?"

"Why do you think I took so many singing lessons, and performed even though it makes me physically ill?"

He stared at me some more. "You did that, for me?"

"I knew you'd be disappointed in me if I didn't live up to my full potential." I blushed at the intense look on his face. "Even when you weren't real, you were very important to me."

He led me towards a secluded corner and kissed me, hard. "Have I told you how much I love you, admire you, and absolutely adore you?" he asked, pressing another kiss to my lips and pulling me into a hug.

"A few times," I replied, breathless.

He kissed the top of my head. "You surprise me every single day," he said, cupping my face in his hands to smile at me. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," I replied, smiling at him. "But you're procrastinating and you know it."

He groaned. "Why are you so perceptive, woman," he sighed, pressing another kiss to my lips. "Come on then."

With Nicole's reassuring presence by his side, Erik braved the masses. They'd seen him before, with Nicole, and they were glad to accept his direction. Except... they had no soul, no vision with their performance.

"Wait, wait, wait," he said, pausing the performance. He caught Nicole's worried glance and took a deep breath to calm himself.

I smiled as he gave an impassioned speech about the sentiments behind the opera, and the feelings of drawing in the audience and making them part of the story. I looked over at the audience, and realized that the others were actually responding to his speech.

"Now," Erik said, "shall we try it again?"

To his infinite surprise, they did, and did it well. The rest of the day they only improved, and he gave them heartfelt congratulations on their performance. After that, he and I went home.

"How did I do?" he asked, once we got in the door.

I laughed and kissed him. "You did wonderfully. I don't know why you were even nervous. I'm so proud of you, Erik."

He gave me a shy smile. "Truly?"

"Yes." I hugged him tightly. "So proud of you. I love you so much dearest."

"Maybe this will work," he mused. "I hope I can continue doing this, with your help."

"You can count on me," I promised.

"Thank you, mon ange." He kissed me lovingly, and yawned. "Dealing with people face to face makes me so tired."

"Come on then," I said. "Let's go to sleep."

We got ready for bed and as I sat on the bed beside him, I was struck again by how different his face seemed, now that he had daily exposure to light and air. I reached out to touch his cheek gently, and he leaned into my touch.

"What is it, mon cherie?" he asked, pressing a kiss to my palm.

"You look so well. So healthy." I smiled wistfully. "I wish you could walk about without your mask. You could, you know. Nobody would notice."

He stiffened and pulled away. "I can't, Nicole."

I reached for him again. "Yes, you can. I've lived here, I know what people will tolerate. You're not a monster, dearest. Everyone knows you're not a monster. You've proved that at the opera house, at the store, wherever people know you in person. You don't need to wear a mask."

He turned away from me. "I'm tired. Good night."

"Erik, don't do this," I begged, putting my hand on his shoulder. "Please. Think of what Mme. Giry and Nadir would want for you, they wouldn't want you to continue living behind a mask. I don't want you to hide behind a mask." I felt tears well up in my eyes and I choked them down. "Please, Erik, just consider it. If you don't feel comfortable as it is, let's do something about it. Let's find a plastic surgeon, have them reconstruct your face."

He was silent for a long time.

I turned away from him and sighed. "Fine." I made myself close my eyes and try to go to sleep.

I was nearly asleep when I heard his voice. "I'll think about it." It was so soft I thought I was dreaming. And then I felt him turn around, and put an arm around my waist, and I knew he had really said it.

"I love you," I said softly. "I love you no matter what your face looks like."

"I know," he said roughly, and kissed my hair. "Go to sleep, my love. We'll talk about it in the morning."

True to his word, the next morning at breakfast, he brought it up. "So," he said. "Plastic surgery."

"Yeah," I said quietly.

"I thought about it," he said, "and you are right. I can't continue to live like the phantom, if I want to be just Erik. I woke up early to research it, and I think, I want to do it." He held up a hand. "But not until after the show. I don't want to distract from it."

I smiled at him. "Of course."

"Good."

The next two months were a blur of activity, and Erik had never been so exhausted in his life. Being a regular person was much more difficult than being a ghost. But he'd never been happier in his life. And he was pleased to note that Nicole was thriving now she was returned to her own time. His wife was always happy, especially now she had her Netflix back. He still did not understand the point of this stored television.

"That's because you're too smart," she told him, "you don't have a concept of non-critical thinking. It's two in the morning and your brain is still buzzing."

"That's not my fault," he said, "I have three hundred years of history to catch up on. The advances in science alone will take me a lifetime to catch up on. And the architecture! And the medical science!"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes dear." She grabbed his arm and dragged him up the stairs. "Let's go to bed, Brain."

"Brain?"

"I'm Pinky."

"What?"

"Pinky and the Brain, it's Pinky and the Brain!" she hummed.

Erik stared at her. "I'm going to assume that you're making another cultural reference."

"Yep." She smirked at him teasingly.

It was opening night of The Magic Flute, our first show in the 21st century, my first appearance as a soprano. And I couldn't breathe again. I was hiding behind my changing screen, in full costume, wondering where I'd misplaced my lungs and my confidence.

"Nicole?" Erik found me, and pulled me into his arms. "Nicole, my love, breathe."

"You said that last time," I grumbled, hiding my face in his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his aftershave.

"And see how well it worked?" he asked, smoothing my hair down lightly. "You're here with me, about to become famous."

"I don't want to be famous," I groaned, fighting off another wave of anxiety at the thought of the TV crews scattered throughout the audience. "I want to be a nobody again."

He kissed my forehead. "You were never a nobody, mon Ange." He kissed me lovingly and dabbed at my tears, careful not to smudge my stage makeup. "Now. We'll do this just like every other performance. Every time you're off stage I'll be there for you. I will be there, for you, mon coeur. I promise."

I took a deep breath and stole another kiss. "All right. Let's do this."

The opera was a success. The Magic Flute had a full house, was televised live throughout France, and received a standing ovation at the end. Nicole did wonderfully, more wonderfully than she had ever performed in the past. Erik was barely able to function in his capacity as director, he was so in awe at his wife's performance. He finally left the directing to his assistant, who'd proved a good enough man, and went to his own domain - the catwalks. He watched from his favorite spot, and as the performance ended, he decided to encourage her.

"Brava, brava," he called lightly, letting his voice echo throughout the auditorium, and focus on Nicole's place on stage.

She smiled up at him brilliantly, and gave another curtsy before slipping off-stage while everyone looked around and murmured.

He hurried downstairs and fought his way through the crowd backstage, sweeping Nicole into his arms. "You sang like an angel," he said, kissing her in full view of everyone.

They all 'awwww'ed' and clapped, and Nicole pulled away, blushing but happy. "Very well done, director," she told Erik, placing a kiss to his cheek.

The after party was loud and modern, and Nicole and Erik escaped to the roof of the Opera house. "We'll have to do this all over again tomorrow," Nicole said, snuggling closer to the circle of his arms as they watched Paris from above.

"And the day after that, and the day after that," Erik replied, kissing the top of her head, "for three months."

"But now we know we can do it," she started, "will you think about this?" And she laid a hand on his masked cheek.

He sighed. "Yes."