Erik

Christine has just taken my hand! I turn to her in surprise. She scoots across the floor to sit beside me, still gripping my hand. The mask lays forgotten behind her. She's shivering, whether from cold or fear I cannot tell, though cold seems more likely with her sitting on this freezing stone floor in nothing but her corset, stockings, and thin robe. She gazes up at me, and there's no fear in her expression. She simply looks puzzled and contemplative.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

I stare at her, seemingly having lost the capacity for human speech.

"Are you my angel?" She asks with knit brows.

I nod. She scoots closer to me, actually pressing into my side. "Are you an angel or a man?"

"A man," I manage to croak.

"What's your name?"

"Erik."

"Erik, my angel," she murmurs.

This must be a dream, some sweet delusion. Still, she feels so warm and solid at my side.

"I don't think you're a monster."

"What?" Her confusing statement shakes me from pondering whether I've finally, completely lost my mind. This cannot be real.

"You called yourself a monster. You said I'd 'learn to see, to find the man behind the monster.' I don't think you're a monster. You're my angel."

I'm still just staring at her like a mute idiot. I've managed to utter only a few syllables. Get it together, man!

"I was so lonely after Papa died. I never felt like I fit in here at the opera. Madame Giry and Meg were kind to me, but they were about the only ones. I...I've been praying for so long, since you first came to me, that you would become a real person; that I might have some companionship. It seems silly I suppose." She's staring down into her lap as she says all this, twisting the material of her robe.

Finally...finally I manage to actually find my voice. "It doesn't seem silly at all." If there's one thing I can understand, it's loneliness.

She looks up into my face. "Were my prayers answered, or have you been a man all this time?"

I swallow. This is it, time to confess my full wickedness. "I've always been a man." I consider apologizing for my treachery, but it seems hollow and pointless.

Christine just nods, still gazing at my face. She reaches up and gently pulls my hand away. There's no repulsion in her expression. "You don't have to hide from me. No more secrets, no more masks." She lays her hand lightly over my deformity. "Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds."

I know the words, of course, Shakespeare's Sonnet 116. "Or bends with the remover to remove," I reply automatically.

"Oh no! It is an ever-fixed mark," she whispers, gently stroking my cheek.

"That looks on tempests and is never shaken." I can feel tears building. Years of bitterness and loneliness threaten to all come gushing out in one incredible torrent. How is any of this possible? Why isn't she terrified?

"How did this happen?"

I cram my tormented emotions down and answer her, "I was born this way."

"Does it hurt?"

"No." At least not physically.

She lays her head against my shoulder. "Erik," she murmurs, "Erik."

I find my courage and slip an arm around her, she nestles closer. She's still shivering. "Come on," I say, "let's get you off this freezing floor and into some warm clothes." I stand and offer her my hand. She takes it and I pull her up and into my arms. Chrstine wraps her arms around my waist and lays her head on my chest. I enfold her in my own long, black robe, and for several moments we simply hold each other as her shivering subsides. I could stay like this for eternity, but I promised her clothes. I lead her to the wardrobe where I have been accumulating things for her for months. If she finds this strange, she doesn't comment. She simply chooses a gown and shoes and slips into them.

"Erik, do you mind?" She turns her back to me, and I do up her buttons.

"Are you hungry?" She must be starving, she hasn't had anything since before the gala. I lead her to a settee.

"Yes, please." She sits and continues to study me.

I go to the larder and fix her a plate of cheese, ham, and grapes. She eats with gusto and coaxes me to share the meal with her. I pick at the food, still not fully convinced this is not a figment of my fevered imagination.

"What are you thinking?" Christine asks.

"Aren't...aren't you afraid of me? Aren't you repulsed?"

She quirks an eyebrow. "Should I be? True you lost your temper when I pulled off your mask, but I understand. I...I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry. Up until then you showed me nothing but kindness, even if you do get rather stern during lessons."

"I can be quite the taskmaster," I admit. "But...my face…" I trail off.

"What of it? Am I such a trembling child? Or perhaps you think me shallow and vain, like Carlotta?" She scowls.

She's actually getting angry with me! "No! No, not at all! It's just that normally...well, normally people…"

"Normally people are cruel," she finishes for me.

"Yes."

"My poor angel. What kind of life have you known?" She sets the plate aside and snuggles against me again. "Well, that's all over now. I'm going to stay here with you. That...that is what you want, isn't it?"

I swallow. Yes, I could happily keep her down here in this dark, musty labyrinth forever, but I must think about what is best for her. Christine is a child of light, she could never thrive cloistered here in this unending darkness. Plus, Madame Giry might actually find her way down here and throttle me if she thinks I'm holding Christine against her will. She has grown somewhat afraid of me over the years, but I know her well enough to know that she would overcome that fear for love of her surrogate daughter. "I do want you with me, but I also want you to continue your career. You must split your time between the opera above and down here with me."

"So I have to go back up there and deal with Carlotta?" Her lip trembles.

"Yes, my dear. You are strong enough to handle her, I daresay." I rub my thumb across her cheek.

She nods. "If that's what you want."

She lays her head on my chest again and I marvel at her, this brave, young woman who has accepted me without a qualm. I have her, and will hold her!

A/N: Bit of a Jane Eyre quote at the end there and a little Shakespeare. From this point on I'll probably update about once a week.