It was just before their lunch break that a theater attendant came on stage and nervously approached Erik.
"There's a phone call for you at the concierge desk," the young woman said, trying to not cringe away from him too visibly.
"Christine will have to come, too," he glanced down at her next to his side before looking over at the director.
The director nodded hastily, not wanting to quarrel with the man and deciding they could all take off early for lunch.
Erik was relieved to hear Antoinette on the other end of the phone.
"Erik, I just got a call from Edwards. He said that the man he's been following was recently spotted near the opera house."
He looked to Christine, trying to keep his expression neutral. Was the man looking for her?
"He gave me a description and he told me to tell you to keep an eye on where he goes if you see him."
Erik wrote the description in his notebook and thanked Antoinette.
"What was it?" Christine asked, her brow furrowed.
"Nothing to worry about, my dear," he kept his voice even.
Christine tried to put it out of her mind.
"Well, let's go get lunch, then," she said. "That little place around the corner, does that sound okay? Soup and sandwiches?"
"Of course," he nodded.
But they never made it to the cafe, because once outside Erik spotted a man who perfectly matched the description given to him by Antoinette.
"Christine," he whispered harshly. "This is of the utmost importance- we might be in danger. That's the man from the party."
Christine froze as she glanced where Erik nodded.
"Erik," her voice was low and worried. "What do we do?"
The man was loitering around the corner of the opera house, as though he were waiting for someone. He glanced at his watch and pushed off of the wall he was leaning on. He looked around furtively before disappearing into a hidden entrance on the side of the building.
"We follow him," Erik replied.
Christine's heart did a flip but she nodded. She trusted Erik would keep her safe.
She kept close behind him as they crept to the secret door and then inside the tunnel. She shivered a little at how dark it was inside, the only light cast by the lantern that the man had lit as he moved deeper and deeper into the tunnel, taking twists and turns that made her lose her sense of direction.
The sound of their footsteps was almost imperceptible, but the man could tell they were following behind. A bead of sweat rolled down his brow as he tried to keep his pace steady. He took the steep stairs as fast as he could, wanting to get this over with. Three stories under the ground, just like his boss had told him. No one would hear the gunshot down there, and no one would find the bodies. Two more floors to go.
Erik was growing unsettled. Surely the man had to realize by now that he was being followed - which meant they were likely being led into a trap. Every step could be bringing them closer to their doom.
In the last moment of peace they would have in the tunnels, Erik reached out for Christine's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She glanced up, realizing he was about to do something, and she held her breath.
Before she could form any other thoughts, the man lurched forward with a yell, falling down the last few steps, dropping the lantern and swearing. It took her a moment to realize Erik had thrown a rope around the man's arm that was stretched out and holding the lantern, pulling him back and causing him to fall.
He rushed down the stairs as the man on the floor fumbled for his gun, but by the time he reached his pocket, Erik already had his own gun pointed at them man.
"Put your weapon on the ground," Erik growled at him, and the man hesitated before complying.
It was the last thing Christine remembered clearly - the rest was forever muddled together in her memory as if a frightful haze.
There was another man waiting in the shadows, one who had run up from a lower level to see what the commotion was about, one who was clearly caught off guard by the fight happening so soon.
Christine leapt off of the stairs, grabbing an old shovel that the opera workers had left. She kicked the discarded gun to slide it across the floor and behind her, far out of reach of the man who now scrambled up and tried to lunge for his weapon while Erik was distracted by his own scuffle with the newcomer. The man tried to grab her to throw her aside and get to his gun. Christine swung the shovel at him, and though he dodged it, he was prevented from getting his gun.
Six gunshots rang out and deafened her, and she dropped to the ground with a scream. It took her an agonizing minute to realize that she hadn't been shot at all - though she didn't realize it at the time, the newcomer had tried to shoot Erik in the chest, but Erik's hands had been to quick for him. He grabbed the man's hand and overpowered him, pointing the gun at the ceiling, the shot meant for Erik instead hitting the wood rafters above them. The man struggled and fought, but Erik was stronger and squeezed his hand around the trigger five more times, emptying the gun into the ceiling.
The man threw the empty gun to the ground and tried to punch Erik, a hit Erik mostly was able to dodge though his fist did make slight contact with the side of his face.
There was a clatter as though something fell to the ground, and the man let out a loud swear that was cut short when Erik kicked him squarely in the knee and he buckled over, passing out from the pain.
Erik turned to grab the man who was fighting Christine for control of the shovel, turning him around and punching him hard in the face. He dropped to the ground, and Christine let the shovel fall from her bruised and scraped hands. She was about to thank Erik when the words died on her tongue as she looked at him. She felt suddenly numb and cold all over.
There was something wrong with Erik.
It was only after both assaillants were subdued that Erik realized his mask had been knocked off in the scuffle. The adrenaline in his system only spiked at this realization, and he suddenly had the sickly feeling of watching the scene unfold from someplace far away. Unable to stop himself, he glanced at Christine, hoping in vain that she hadn't seen.
She had seen. Oh, how she had seen. She was staring, her face white as a sheet, and though a small part him knew that part of that could have been from having to fight for her life, he was not so foolish as to think that his own face didn't play a large part in it as well.
His face. He belatedly put his hands over it and turned away, trying to hide what she'd already seen, what her wide eyes still flickered over in gaping horror.
It was over now. Whatever budding friendship they had had, whatever tremulous feelings had been starting to form between them, it was certainly shattered now like glass under a sledgehammer. She wouldn't be able to bear to be around him now that she knew what he truly looked like.
He fell to his knees, not even feeling the flare of pain or hearing the loud crack as they made contact with the ground.
He had tried so hard, been so meticulous. Nadir was the only person in all of Paris who actually knew. Not even Antoinette knew. Christine would probably tell her, of course. Christine might tell anyone. Everyone.
"Erik?"
He couldn't hear her concerned voice, too lost in his own mind. The lighting was low, he was thankful for that, but still - she had seen. He felts waves of nausea come over him.
Christine had mostly recovered from her surprise. She had been horrified at first, her fright addled mind thinking that the way his face looked was a direct result of the fight with these men - had they done this to him? Was he going to die because of it? Was he in terrible pain? - and she had nearly felt her vision blacken as she looked. Thankfully, rational thought crept in. He wore a mask for a reason, and this must be it. She wasn't dumb - she had known that the harsh red marks that trailed down his neck were likely spread across his face as well. It was merely... The rest of it that she wasn't aware of. The lack of a nose was... Unexpected. But she didn't have more than a few moments to remark over this before he crumpled to the ground.
"Erik! Are you hurt?"
She didn't think it was possible for her heart to go any faster, yet the thought of Erik being hurt managed to do so. She shoved herself off of the wall she had been leaning against and ran the short distance to his side. He wouldn't take his hands off of his face and wouldn't answer her. But he didn't seem to injured from she could tell.
She kneeled beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking him.
"Erik, are you alright? Do- do you need a doctor? Are you okay?"
He merely cringed away from her touch and pressed his hands into face harder. She realized that the whining noises he was making were because he was crying.
Oh.
She scrambled to her feet and searched the room for his mask. When she found it she brought it over and sat down next to him where he was huddled against the wall.
"Erik," she tried to find the balance between quiet enough to be soothing and loud enough to catch his attention that was obviously elsewhere. "Erik, look, I found it."
He turned away from her and only then did he reach back to take the mask from her hands. He slipped it on, not bothering to wipe away the tears on his terribly sunken cheeks. Once it was on he placed his hands over the mask as they had been on his bare face, as though to ensure that it wouldn't fall again, or perhaps as another layer of protection added far too late.
Vaguely his mind registered that Christine was still there, but he had no idea why she had stayed. It made no sense. Perhaps he was imagining it. He could think of no other realistic explanation for her still being there, for her to come closer to him when he had no mask on, for her to now be wrapping her arms around him and leaning her head on his shoulder.
"It's alright, Erik," she murmured. "Everything is alright."
She stayed there with him until his sobs lessened into just crying. She wondered at the kind of experiences he'd had before to make him react like this, what kind of life he'd led. It was surely embarrassing to suddenly be exposed against his wishes, but for him to be brought to his knees like that - it made her heart ache to see him suffer so, and she didn't know what to do about it, how to reassure him that whatever trauma he had gone through in the past would not happen again, not if she had anything to say about it. She didn't know if he liked being hugged, but when she had been upset the previous day, it was the first thing he had done, so she figured she would return the favor.
She paused her steady stream of soft reassurances to glance over at the unconscious men on the floor.
"I don't mean to rush... whatever this is, but those men are going to wake up eventually and we need to be ready for when they do."
Oh, of course. Now it made sense to Erik. Christine didn't know the way out of the tunnels and she needed him to show her or else she'd be trapped down here. He sniffed, trying to will himself to stop crying.
Her honeyed words were a mere ploy to ensure her own safety. He knew she was frightened of the dark, but she must be more terrified than he had realized to cling to him - him! the monster, the thing lurking in the dark! - in such a way. He grabbed her wrists and gently but firmly pried her away from him. She would say whatever she needed to in order to get of this place, and he didn't blame her in the least.
He stood without a word, trying to ignore the shakiness of his legs, and grabbed more ropes out of a pocket in his coat. He made quick work of dragging the unconscious men to a post and wrapping the rope around them, tying the knot in such a way that they wouldn't be able to untie it should they wake before the police came.
He stooped down to pick up the lantern, not bothering to glance backwards at Christine. He could hear her getting up off the ground and jog to his side.
"Erik? A-are you okay?"
She tentatively reached a hand out to his arm. He said nothing, but he left her hand there.
"Erik, please say something," she begged.
He resolutely refused to look at her, could not see how close to tears she was herself, how she looked up at him with such heartbreaking concern.
"I am sorry, Christine, that you had to see that."
His words sounded hollow and his voice strained. She squeezed her hand on his arm.
"Your face doesn't make any difference to me. It doesn't matter."
How could it not matter though? She said that now, when she was still hopelessly lost without him, when he had the only source of light in this never ending darkness. But when they got to the top again, when she was free once more, then it would be a different tune, he was certain of it.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, still not looking at her.
"No," she said, then looked at her own hands as she stretched them in front of her. "Well, my hands got scratched a little. And I think I bruised my, er... hip, when I got pushed down, but other than that..."
He nodded brusquely.
No more words were exchanged between them. Her mind kept turning to what she had seen. It unsettled her, not just his actual face but his reaction to having seen it. She'd seen him in his mask for so long it had just seemed a part of him, and that alone was strange, suddenly seeing him without it.
But she hadn't lied - not really. It didn't change how she felt about him. It was just another part of him, one she hadn't seen before, but honestly - she should have expected it. Most people wouldn't wear a mask to simply hide some discolored markings. She wished he'd just look at her.
Once up in the sunlight, he immediately went inside to the concierge and called the police, Christine trailing close behind him though he pretended not to notice her.
After the call to the police, he dialed the number for Antoinette and briefly informed her of what had happened.
The few opera house employees who heard the call sent out a sea of whispers among themselves, and by the time the police arrived there was a small crowd of both employees and performers who had come out to watch.
More than half a dozen officers arrived, plus Nadir and Edwards. The two exchanged a funny look.
"I'll take them," Edwards immediately said, sounding irritated.
Nadir shook his head.
"The opera house is under my jurisdiction - they'll be coming with me."
"The de Chagny case is being handled by my department," Edwards insisted. "That means I'll be taking them."
Nadir wanted to argue, but he caught a glimpse of a very shellshocked looking Erik nearby. He waved a dismissive hand at Edwards and went to check on his friend.
"Erik, are you okay?" he asked gently.
"Watch Christine," was his only reply as he left the two of them standing there.
Nadir raised an eyebrow as he watched him go, then looked down to Christine.
"Are you okay, Mademoiselle?" he asked her.
"Yes," she nodded. "I'm fine... I think."
She wrapped her arms around herself, wishing Erik was still next to her. She watched as he explained to the officers what had happened in the tunnels.
When the police needed to be shown down through the tunnel, Christine moved as though to go with them. Erik put out a hand and stopped her.
"There is no need for you to go as well. You're to stay up here."
"Oh."
He certainly did not want to have to be in that same room with her again, be reminded of what had happened there.
The men, now awake, were marched - the one limping heavily - into Edwards' police car as he watched them, his hands on his hips and a disgusted look on his face. The men looked dolefully at him, as though he were to blame somehow.
When the police had finally carted the men off and the small crowd had dissipated, Erik and Christine were all that were left, standing out on the sidewalk in the mid afternoon sunlight, the events that had transpired underneath the ground seeming like a bad dream.
"I imagine you'll want to be going home. You need to rest after all that," Erik said, not meeting her gaze.
She nodded. The director, upon hearing what had happened, had canceled the rest of the rehearsal for the day.
"Rest sounds good," she hesitated. "What about you? Are you going to be okay?"
"You don't need to worry for me, Christine."
The rest of the walk to Giry's house was silent.
When they arrived on the doorstep Christine stopped and turned to him.
"Erik, down there... After, when you said you were sorry that- that I had to see you like that..."
His heart was pounding in his ears. Why was she bringing this up again? Was it not bad enough to have had to live through it once?
"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry, too," she said sadly. "I'm sorry that it happened to you like that, that your choice got taken away. It should have been up to you, how or when - or if - you wanted to show your face. And I'm sorry that it wasn't. We... we don't... No one else has to know that that happened, if you don't want them to know. I won't say anything to anyone. And I meant what I said down there, too. This doesn't change anything between us, okay?"
They were words he didn't even realize he needed to hear. They seemed so genuine, so real, that he could feel the tears threatening his eyes once more.
"Thank you, Christine," his voice was thick with emotion.
He still didn't know if she was being entirely truthful, but her words were so sweet that for just that moment, he would pretend that she meant it.
She stood on the stoop and watched as he walked away, watched until he turned the corner and was out of view. She took a deep, shuddering breath as the realization finally hit her.
She had wondered for a long time, of course, but when they were in the basement, when she thought perhaps he had been injured, had been stabbed and was about to bleed out, when she thought that there was a very real chance she was about to lose him - and then the rush of relief when she realized he wasn't dying - and then the painful twist as she saw him so broken, and she felt the longing to comfort him, to protect him-
She didn't have to wonder anymore. She knew.
She fumbled with the key in the lock and once inside closed the door with trembling hands. She tried to blink away the sudden blurriness in her vision, shoulders sagging under the bone deep weariness that had set in.
Antoinette found her then, and frowned at the sight of her rubbing at her tearful eyes with shaking fingers.
"Christine, my dear, what's wrong?" Antoinette hugged her close.
Christine returned the embrace, pulling tightly to her. She pressed her face into Antoinette's shoulder, her words muffled when she finally said them.
"I love him, Madame."