Christine stared up at Erik with wide eyes, the shards and dust of the vase scattered around her feet.
She'd really gone and done it now, and she knew it.
But somewhere deep in her mind she felt a vague annoyance - if he hadn't come up right behind her, his cape wouldn't have touched her and she wouldn't have gotten frightened, and she would have been able to put the vase back safely.
A tense moment stretched out in which everything was silent, and she held on to the foolish hope that perhaps no one had heard.
That hope was smashed just like the vase when a frightened voice came from the servants' quarters -
"Who's there?!"
Christine closed her eyes and exhaled sharply.
It was true that Philippe wouldn't have minded too much to find her in his home - a little confused and disturbed perhaps, but not angry or upset. That would have been before the priceless vase had gotten smashed, however. Philippe awaking in the middle of the night to find Christine breaking his valuables was not a Philippe that she wanted to meet.
She opened her eyes to face her fate, expecting Erik to have already made his escape. She vividly recalled how annoyed he was when he told her that she would be on her own should they be about to get caught. To her surprise he was still there, his head tilting just slightly to the side as he looked down at her.
It has been only a moment, enough time for an inhale and an exhale and then suddenly his hand shot out and grabbed her arm just above the wrist before he quickly turned and ran out of the room, nearly dragging her with him.
Of all his many skills that had served him well over the years, the ability to memorize the layout of buildings was one that often came in handy. He used it now, not even needing a moment to remember which turns to take as he barreled through rooms and headed for the stairs, pulling Christine with him. It had been easy enough to say all of those things about leaving her behind when they were back in the office, but he found - with some small measure of surprise - that once it had actually happened he was unwilling to leave her.
She struggled to keep up with him, having to run to keep pace with his long strides. His grip on her arm was tight and insistent, but not cruel or bruising. She could hear the sounds of the servants finding the broken vase and raising a general fuss, and she was thankful that Erik had pulled her with him - if she had paused even a moment longer, she likely would have been caught.
But they weren't out of danger of being found just yet, she realized. The hallway they were running down was long, and they likely wouldn't make the end of it before one of the servants turned the corner to search this way. They might not get captured or stopped, but they would certainly be seen.
She stopped suddenly, grabbing Erik's arm with her other hand and pulling him back. So intent on fleeing, he suddenly stopped with such force that she was nearly knocked off her feet, but she managed to hold her footing and pulled him back several steps towards the way they had just come from.
Erik didn't understand, she could see it in his eyes, but she pointed to a panel in the carved wood decorating the walls of the hallway. He still didn't understand, but followed her as she turned towards the wall.
Erik heard voices in his head screaming at him - they were surely about to be caught, even more certainly now that Christine had stopped him, and he was beginning to grow concerned over that. But in the split second decision between following where she wanted to lead and simply throwing her over his shoulder and continue to run, he chose to trust her. Surely a girl who knew how to pick locks that well also knew better than to run towards her would-be captors... right?
With the press of a button that was hidden in the intricate carving, a portion of the wood panel swung outwards like a door. She quickly hurried inside of it, and Erik stooped as low he could to follow. Once he was in she swiftly closed the door - and not a moment too soon, as they could hear the servants shouting as they continued their search into the hallway.
Christine closed her eyes and cursed herself. She knew this little room so well, there was nothing in there to be afraid of - if one had a lantern or other light source. And although her rational mind knew it was utter nonsense, a small part of her still felt there would always be something in the dark to fear. Her eyes flew open, but it made no difference. She swallowed hard and tried to imagine the little room just as it was all those years ago when she and Raoul would hide in it from his tutors when he didn't want to do his lessons. They had placed a very small table in it, and two stools to sit upon, and there was only just enough room for two people to stand beside it. Perhaps if her thoughts were consumed with the happier times spent here, playing cards or drawing pictures, then perhaps she could ignore the sinister air it held now, the way the darkness pressed in on every corner, but her hopes were of no avail.
"Is there a light in here at all?" came the faint whisper from the shadows.
"No," it was barely spoken, just a breath from her lips.
She wondered for a moment if he was having the same problem as her with darkness, but then there was a faint rustle and then his ragged breaths turned to deeper - if still slightly odd sounding - intakes of air, and she realized that the mask he was wearing likely impeding his breathing while he was running. Her eyes flicked up to where his face would be, but there was nothing at all to see in the thick darkness.
They could hear the servants approach and then begin to fade away as they passed the hidden cabinet.
She bit her lip. She wanted so badly to reach out to him, just to touch his arm or his hand to remind herself that she wasn't alone in the terrifying inky blackness, but she didn't want to try to touch him while he was presumably holding his mask - what if she startled him and he dropped it? It would make a noise, or possibly even break. She refrained from touching him, instead wringing her hands in an attempt to get relief from the anxiety.
Erik's hands shook as he lifted his mask up. It felt wrong, so very wrong, to expose his face so near to Christine, even if she couldn't see it. But the small holes in the nose of the mask and the thin opening of a mouth on the molded plaster were simply not large enough to get enough air through. He tried to take as deep of breaths as he could, trying to prepare himself for the next mad dash they would need to make after this. When his breathing became more even, he placed the mask back on and made certain that the scarf was tucked in properly so that none of him could be seen.
The servant voices grew louder once more. Having searched down the hallway and finding nothing, they were returning to tell Philippe - who was presumably hiding in his room - of the apparent lack of intruders despite the broken vase.
Christine waited until she couldn't hear anymore footsteps even with her ear pressed against the door, and then she counted to twenty in her mind before reaching to open the door once more.
"Christine, wait," Erik's voice was barely audible. "Are there more rooms we need to search?"
Christine shot a perturbed glare into the shadows. He still wanted to search, after this?
"There's just a few rooms, but we saw most of them already."
"Do you think we can get to them,or will they be too on guard now for us to sneak by?"
She shook her head, then realized he couldn't see her.
"No. I think we should leave."
She reached for the door again.
"Christine-"
She jerked her hand back from the door.
"What?" she hissed.
"Remember what I told you about no talking until we return to the Girys'," he whispered.
She could hear the frown of disapproval in his voice and she rolled her eyes it.
Unlatching the door, they both stepped through as quietly as they could. The door closed with barely a click, and they began to swiftly walk down the hallway once more, trying to keep their steps as silent as possible.
They hadn't gone very far before Erik began to realize something - taking his mask off in the closet had been a terrible idea. It had been quite dusty in the closet, and he had breathed quite deeply. He had, it seemed, accidentally breathed in dust.
He only had enough warning time to place a hand up against his mask to keep it from falling off before, much to his chagrin and disgust, he sneezed.
Christine stopped and turned to gape at him with horror.
The frightened servants could be heard raising a fuss yet again, and Erik once more grabbed ahold of Christine's hand and began to run.
She managed to keep the pace with him as they went down the stairs - in consideration of her, he had to take each individual step at a time instead skipping steps, something he knew that he could manage easily but would cause her to fall. Once at the bottom of the steps however, he dashed to the door with such a speed that Christine was afraid they would crash into it. He managed to keep them from doing so, instead wrenching the door open and pushing Christine through before pulling the door closed behind them. Now free of his grip, Christine kept running on her own to Cesar. Erik quickly caught up and dropped to one knee by Cesar's side, using his hands to form a step for Christine. He boosted her up and quickly jumped up beside her, pulling the reins fee from the branch and gripping them tightly in one hand as his other arm went around Christine once more.
Her pulse was pounding in her ears, and she buried one hand in Cesar's mane and tightly held to Erik's forearm with the other. It hurt to breathe - she hadn't run that fast since she didn't know when. Everything had been going so slow back in the house - and then it had all happened much too fast. It was dizzying, and now that Cesar, sending the urgency in his riders, was going as fast he could with two people, it also felt terribly exciting. Christine wondered if this was what criminals felt like all time, and if so it was no surprise that crime was on the rise - it had been quite a rush. Now that she had a moment to catch her breath and actually think once again, she noted that for all of his manhandling of her in the heat of the moment, he had taken exceptional care not to hurt her.
Erik listened carefully for any sound of being followed and heard nothing. With every passing moment that they fled the scene of their crime and no one seemed to know it was them, his grin grew wider under the mask. How like his younger days, he mused to himself, yet with absolutely nothing to feel guilty over. In his haste to escape detection, he didn't even have room for any of the kinds of thoughts that had plagued him on ride there. Whereas before he was consumed with utter absurdity his life had become - him, of all people, holding opera star Christine Daaé in such an awfully intimate way, as they went on their way to commit a crime - his arm around her middle, holding her so closely against him in a manner that he was certain most other men would kill to experience with her, yet all he could feel was awkward embarrassment at the situation (and of course it was entirely his own fault they were even in such a situation) - now, now there was only room in his mind for calculations of how much distance they'd need to put between themselves and the house before anyone would be able to catch up, and for the strange thrill of danger rushing in his veins.
When he finally decided they had reached a safe distance he pulled on the reins and Cesar slowed to a more manageable pace, snorting and shaking his head.
By the time they had turned onto the back road that would lead to Antoinette's house, Christine had firmly decided that she was not apologizing for the vase, that Erik shared in at least half of the blame, and that was just fine by her. Still, nervousness began to bubble up in her as they approached the backyard. Would Erik blame her for spoiling the investigation? Would he be mad at her for alerting the household that someone was there?
She was afraid her worries were confirmed by his utter silence as they entered the yard and he slid off of Cesar before reaching up and helping her down. Madame Giry was already on the back porch, waiting for them. Still Erik was silent as they drew closer to the light. Christine pressed her lips into a thin line. She could just tell he was about to launch into a tirade about how he knew better than to bring her, about how she ruined the entire thing just like he said she would-
"How did it go?" Madame Giry asked.
"Oh, it went just fine, Madame."
Christine glanced up him, surprised. That dark honeyed voice held no trace of sarcasm, betrayed nothing beyond a trip that apparently 'went fine'. Was he not going to say anything, then?
Antoinette narrowed her eyes. He never called her 'Madame' unless something was going on or he was hiding something. And his eyes were bright - much too bright. If she could see his mouth, there would surely be a terrible smirk there. She quickly looked to Christine, but the young woman merely nodded, supporting his claim.
"Erik," Antoinette said firmly. "Are you certain everything went well?"
"Good heavens, woman, do you not trust my judgment?"
Antoinette answered with only a raise of an eyebrow.
"Besides," he brushed his hands off on his jacket, avoiding her eye. "I said it went fine, not well."
He cleared his throat and turned before she could ask what difference was.
"I will see you both tomorrow," he gave a quick nod to both of them before he grabbed Cesar's reins and led him back into the darkness.
Antoinette sighed wearily and rubbed at her temples. Nothing could induce a headache like that man.
She ushered Christine into the house once more.
"My dear, did everything go alright?"
Christine took a moment to consider the question. In her opinion it most definitely did not go right - but hadn't Erik done those kinds of things so many times before, while this was her first trip of the kind? Surely he would know if it went well or not? It didn't feel exactly like lying - and if it was, well, she was only following Erik's lead in it all. She was merely trusting Erik's judgement in this matter - if Erik wasn't trustworthy, that was hardly her own fault.
"I think it went fine," she offered.
Madame Giry nodded, accepting her answer.
"Well, you've had a long day even so. Off to bed with you, dear."
Christine bid her goodnight and started up the staircase to her shared room. She couldn't help but smile when she saw Meg's eager face at the top.
Meg grabbed her arm and practically dragged her into their room before quickly slamming the door.
"What happened? What happened?"
Christine hesitated a moment, then reached into her pocket and pulled out the now slightly crushed flower. She handed it to her friend, who jumped up and down and squealed.
"Christine! You robbed the Comte for me! Oh, I love you!"
Christine put her hands over her face and groaned.
"Meg! Keep it down! Your mother will hear you!" she glanced back at the door before lowering her own voice. "Oh, Meg - that wasn't all I did. I might have also accidentally smashed a very expensive vase, too."
Meg cackled at this.
"Was it loud? Did they hear?"
"It was. They did," she blushed.
Meg's eye lit up.
"How expensive was the vase, anyway?"
"Oh, it was priceless."
"You're my hero, Christine," Meg sighed.
Christine giggled. The Comte had become somewhat of an enemy to all of the ballet girls after a particularly disastrous date with La Sorelli, and Meg had never forgiven him for his boorish manners towards the lead dancer.
They continued to talk as she changed out of the pants and into her nightgown. She found her tale didn't even need any embellishment to garner gasps and squeaks and breathless "and then what happened?" as she told her about the quick escape they had found necessary to make. They stayed up so late, in fact, that both of them were having to stifle yawns the next morning as they sat wearily on the couch in Madame's office.
Erik, dressed impeccably as always, didn't look at all like he had been up all night committing a crime, and Christine, who wanted nothing more than to go back to bed, eyed him with jealousy. She'd barely had the energy to pin her hair up without bothering to brush it, yet here he had managed to look more than presentable and had made tea for them all as well.
How dare he, she thought to herself as she sipped her tea.
She studied him with curiosity as he stood to the side of the desk, absorbed in reading Antoinette's notes on the missing child case, not noticing in the least how her eyes lingered on him.
What was under that mask? Whatever it was, it must be something rather terrible, she decided, for him to go to such lengths to hide it. She thought back on previous night, how he had asked if there was the possibility of any light in the room before he had removed the mask. She stared for a long time at the hints of red, scarred skin that could be seen around his eye and the side of his jaw. He was wearing a high collared shirt with a fancifully tied cravat as he nearly always did, but even so an occasional movement would reveal that his neck was not unblemished. She wondered if the rest of him was mottled with such marks as well, and if perhaps it was the result of an injury or if he was born like that - and then she wondered which would be worse, to have had his life so horrifically and irrevocably altered in an instant, or to have grown up from infancy with something that set him so far apart from all other children.
She was pulled from her thoughts by the racket going on in the hallway. All four people in the room glanced up towards the door as whoever was throwing such a fit drew closer.
"-of all the unmitigated gall- it's just simply! It boggles the mind that anyone would do such a thing!" Philippe's voice was now recognizable just seconds before the door flew open.
"Yes, sir, I agree completely-" a man who looked nearly sick with nerves stood beside him and nodded, and Christine recognized him as one of his servants.
Philippe now ignored the man beside him and strode over to the desk Antoinette was sitting behind. His eyes darted between her and Erik, finally coming to rest on the latter as he drew himself up to his full height and loudly and angrily announced with all the offended dignity he could muster -
"My house has been burgled!"