Madame Giry remarks one day that Christine looks pale.
Christine thinks on this and realizes it's the lack of sunlight. She goes outside, yes, to market and shop. But without the walk here and back between work and her former apartment, she's not in the sun half as much as she used to be. Before she would enjoy walks by the river, but now it's far too tempting to stay by Erik's side, and as he never seems to leave the Opera House...
She's telling Erik about Giry's observation over dinner. He looks down, abashed, and suddenly she realizes he's taken the comment as a criticism.
"It is not a bad thing, love. I do not mind being pale if it means being near you. Hopefully you do not mind my new complexion, either."
She adds the last sentence in jest, but he replies immediately and in a serious tone.
"You are beautiful no matter what you look like, Christine."
He pushes at the food on his plate with his fork, no longer interested in eating.
"I only wish we could both go outside without any... Negative attention." he sighs. "It would be so lovely to walk down the street at midday with you beside me."
He changes the subject to something else, but Christine is still thinking of his wish to go for a walk even after dinner is finished and they're in their bed.
Their bed - Christine was so pleased that Erik had finally accepted her view that the room - and the bed - should belong to both of them. He had been quite insistent to the opposite at first.
"You need a place that is entirely your own, Christine. This room was supposed to serve that purpose." he had told her.
"But I wish to share my bedroom with my husband. Surely that's not so strange?"
"Christine, you do not understand." he tried to be firm with her, but it was difficult when every last cell in his body simply wanted to give her whatever she desired. "If you do not have a space that belongs only to you, somewhere that I can only enter with your permission, then you will be forced to be around me constantly. Where will you go if you wish to be alone for a while? You will grow sick of seeing me."
"Oh, Erik. If I wished to be away from you, I'd simply go upstairs to my room there." she had nodded in a no-nonsense way, hoping the matter was settled.
He had grown very still and had watched her for a few moments, and measured the meaning behind her words.
"So," he had finally said in an even tone. "You have already thought about this scenario."
She had almost been tempted to laugh at that, because surely only Erik would be able to take the concept of her wanting to sleep in the same bedroom with him and twist it around in his mind to mean that she wanted away from him. But it was certainly not a laughing to him - he was probably making himself miserable over it- so she had merely smiled instead.
"I only thought of it just now, darling, because you have brought the subject up. But my point remains - we are married, and I wish to share my room with my husband."
She had refused to relent so finally he had acquiesced, and has been coming to bed with her every night. Tentatively at first, as though he were bracing himself to be turned out at any minute, but he grew less hesitant each night.
She snuggles down underneath the blanket, smiling at how he had automatically wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him when he had lain down next to her. She can hear his even breathing now, already asleep and yet still his arms are holding her tightly, his body pressed to her back, his face buried in her hair. It is often cold this far under the ground, but right now she's warm and comfortable. The only thing keeping her from drifting off to sleep in her beloved's arms is the memory of how wistful he looked when talking about the walk at dinner.
She wants so badly for them to be able to go outside together in the daylight - she knows how happy it would make him, and all she wants is for him to be happy.
So she turns the problem over in her mind as though it were a puzzle she could solve if she just looked at it from a different angle.
She's aware from his comments that he often receives stares and questions when people see his mask, and that he hates the attention that the mask draws. Going without the mask is, of course, not an option - she does not mind his face, but even still he so rarely removes it in her presence except for when he sleeps. If only... If only he had a mask that could make him look like everyone else...
Sleep slowly creeps across her, her thoughts carrying over into dreams.
When she awakes the next morning - but she can never be certain when it is morning down here - she has an idea.
She carefully turns around to face him, not wanting to break his embrace, and places a hand on his shoulder to gently shake him awake.
"Erik," she calls softly, and waits for him to blink a few times before continuing. "I thought of something last night. What if you had a mask that covered your entire face - just for going on walks outside, I mean!"
She desperately prays that he does not misconstrue her words to mean she no longer wishes to see any of his face at all.
"Perhaps such a mask would draw less attention?"
In the light of the last candle flickering she can just barely make out his sad smile.
"My Christine is far too sweet to me, worrying over such matters when she should be sleeping. But unfortunately, my love, I had thought of this idea a number of years ago. It was... Less than successful."
She asks to see it, and sure enough after breakfast he goes to search for it in his room. She lingers in the living room by the fireplace, too afraid to follow him lest she find he's still kept that blasted coffin. He emerges several minutes later wearing the mask.
She must admit - the affect is... Unnerving. It's formed well enough, yes, but the utter stillness of the thing is haunting. At first glance it's fine enough, but any lingering look at it will alert its viewer that something is wrong.
"You can see why it did not work." he states from behind it.
She suppresses a cringe at hearing a voice come from the unmoving mouth.
He sighs and turns to take it off, replacing it with usual one.
"Perhaps it would not be so terribly noticeable with your hat and cape pulled around it - it is still cold out, you know."
She cajoles him into putting both his cape with the high collar and his long brimmed fedora on. She pops the collar and tips the hat at an almost precarious angle before stepping back to look at him.
"I think it looks fine." she offers.
He stands there mutely, unsure of what he looks like and thus unsure of how to reply, for he has no mirror in which he can prove her wrong.
She stands on her toes and pushes the hat backwards, leaning up to kiss the side of his face.
"Stay right here, love, I'm going to go get my coat and then we are going outside."
He wants to protest but she's gone in a flash. So he nervously tips the hat back into place and goes to look for his gloves.
She returns soon, beaming at him as she extends her hand to lead him away from their home and into the tunnels that will eventually lead outside.
"Christine, are you sure?" he whispers. "Please do not lead us into any untoward notice and undue attention in some misguided attempt to make either of us feel better about this situation."
She looks back at him, frowning. Surely that's not what she's doing, is it?
She stops and evaluates his appearance.
"Your mask is still visible, yes." she tells him softly. "But if you keep your head down it's unlikely anyone will notice, especially if we walk briskly. However... We do not have to go outside. You do not have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, Erik."
She bites her lip, waiting for him to reply. She knows that he would do nearly anything she asked of him, and she's hopes that this is not a situation where she has taken advantage of that.
He sighs, squeezing her hand.
"We do not have to be outside for very long." he says slowly. "Once outside we would not have to go more than quarter of the way around the building before finding the next secret entrance. Ten minutes, at most."
So they venture out, her hands resting on his arm, walking side by side in the sun just like he's dreamed about.
He feels vaguely dizzy, but he's unsure if the cause is the blinding sunlight - has it always been this searingly bright? - or if it's from this long desired moment finally manifesting. He wonders between the same set of options again as he blinks against the tears gathering in his eyes.
The chatter and hum of the street is nearly overwhelming, assaulting the senses. The creak and clatter of the horses and carriages in the street, the running and shouting and laughing of people as they made their way about. So much movement everywhere. To Christine the scene is not so different than an average day outside, but Erik has not been out in the daylight hours since who knows when, and he finds it very busy.
He slows down as they approach the next hidden entrance to the catacombs on the side of the Opera House, glancing at Christine. She looks up at him and gives a small nod and a smile, trusting his judgment.
No one has bothered to give a second glance to them so far, and it has been so terribly long since he last felt daylight in the open air. Almost reluctantly, he walks on past the entrance, and Christine leans her head on his shoulder as they continue their fine walk. Instead of lurking around the side of the building, they begin to head out to the main road to walk past the shops.
He glances down at her again, admiring how the crisp breeze has given her cheeks and nose a rosy tint, how a smile plays at her lips. Her fingers are trembling on his arm for their lack of gloves, her diamond ring glinting in the sunlight and sending tiny fractures of rainbow onto his overcoat. He feels the most likely scenario is that in her haste she forgot to put her gloves on, but a small secret part of him hopes that she purposely left them behind so that she could show off her ring. He places his other hand over both of hers, hoping to rub some warmth into them.
They pass storefronts with various things for sale in the window, and he has the absurd idea of what it would be like to actually go in one these stores and shop for himself - he cannot remember when he last shopped in a store during business hours instead of having someone shop for him in his stead... Or simply picked the lock of a store in the middle of the night when he wanted something. They pass street vendors as well, and from the corner of his eye he sees things he wishes to stop for - some apples, fresh fish, an interesting hat, some irises that he knows Christine would love - but he dares not stop because he knows that once he does there will be conversation with the vendor, and that is not something he feels they can risk. Even still, he looks at the wares as much as he can and makes mental notes of what to ask Christine to buy the next time she goes shopping, and this is nearly as good as shopping himself.
For these brief moments away from the Opera Populaire, he's giddy with joy. Here he is, walking down the street with his wife on his arm. They are like any other couple. He dares to look up at the sky, that dazzling blue spotted with cotton clouds, takes a deep breath and watches the birds flittering about the rustling leaves of the trees. It's all so gloriously normal.
And just like that, the illusion shatters.
A man has done a double take, now openly gawking at Erik. The man taps his friend on the shoulder, who turns and stares up and down at him. Erik feels himself chill under their gazes, his heart stopping. He ducks his head once again and his grip on Christine's hands tighten and he pulls her along at a faster pace now.
"Erik..?"
"We've been seen." he breathes tersely.
He silently and bitterly laughs at himself for ever thinking they could come close to some semblance of normalcy. He is, after all, still a wanted man - and the blasted mask made him all the more noticeable. Jospeh Buquet, that bumbling old idiot - it wasn't his fault the man was fool enough to try to attempt and find the Opera Ghost's hiding place and thus fell into a trap, Erik fumes to himself.
Christine clings to him, her breath coming in pants but she shows no sign of tiring yet.
"Are they behind us?" his voice is sharper than he intends.
If any harm should ever come to her because of his own carelessness, he will never forgive himself.
She glances behind, eyes large and full of fear.
"No - no they aren't there." she tells him breathlessly.
He does not slow their pace, however.
An alley comes up on their left, and suddenly he's pivoting and pushing her into the shadows. With one swift movement he's pulled her close to him and swept his cape entirely over her, hiding her bright blue coat and matching hat from view.
He knows that he can slip away easily, melt into the shadows and lose anyone tailing him. Christine being there... Complicates things.
But she must be his first priority, he cannot let her be seen - she cannot be viewed by anyone with suspicion lest she lose her own freedom through association with him.
She can hear her own pulse in her ears. The tremble that was only in her fingers is now in her legs as well. The spinning and sudden darkness of being under his cape was disorienting, but his arm tightly around her helped her keep her balance. She lets her arms creep around his waist, regret clawing her heart. She hasn't meant to put him - to put them both - in danger. She had only wanted to talk a walk. Was life so cruel that it must deny them this also? Could they not simply take a short stroll in the sunlight without her husband being arrested?
They stand there for what seems to be an eternity, her with her face pressed to his chest and praying that they weren't on the verge of being ambushed, and he watching the mill of pedestrians going down the sidewalk for the two men who might be attempting to follow.
Finally, finally, he loosens his almost bruising grip and lets the cape fall away.
"We are safe." he whispers to her, but then thinks that maybe that sounds too assured so he adds ominously- "For now."
She looks up at him and gives a smile that's wobbly with nerves.
"My walks have been so dull boring until now."
"Are you alright? Did I hurt you?" he notices her rubbing her hands and remembers how hard he had squeezed them.
"I'm alright, Erik. I was just startled is all."
"We should go back to the Opera House. I am sorry, Christine."
"Whatever are you sorry for?"
"I am sorry we could not even do this simple outing without running into trouble."
She thinks about this for a moment before replying.
"I do not think that we ran into trouble." she says slowly. "I think that we ran into two men with bad manners and that you only wanted to take extra precautions just in case. But other than that it has been wholly enjoyable, has it not?"
He raises a brow at this.
"Yes, other than the strangers stopping to stare at the freak and the part where we had to hide out of fear for our lives, it was a very lovely day, Christine."
But despite his sarcasm, he casually mentions over their lunch later that day that perhaps they might attempt another outing in the future, and she is overjoyed at this.
