Erik walked back to the office with hunched shoulders and quick steps. His face was burning with embarrassment underneath his mask. Why had he gone and said that to her?
He wracked his mind over and over, trying to figure out what had come over him, but the by the time he was safely upstairs in his room, the only answer he could up with was that it was simply the truth - her soul was beautiful. Was he supposed to pretend that it was not?
He knew it had likely come off as cheesy, a trite line being employed to seduce her, but he certainly hadn't meant it like that. He was simply being honest with her - she was, without a doubt, the kindest, sweetest person he had ever met. Not just to him, but to everyone she came into contact with. And if that wasn't enough - her voice. Erik had come into contact with a number of immensely talented singers in previous years, and though he admired what they could do in stage, he often found them... lacking when he had the chance to speak with them in person. Talent did not equate to being a good person - he would offer himself as the prime example of that. But Christine was different.
She was so very different and endlessly fascinating to him. He had never felt like that about anyone before, and it was a joy and curse at the same time. A joy, because it felt like finding a part of himself he never even knew was missing, but a curse because he honestly couldn't figure out what he wanted from her. He was quite certain about what he didn't want from her - he didn't feel any curiosity to take a peek behind him when she was changing mere feet away from him in her dressing room, he didn't feel the urge to let his hands wander when he touched her shoulder or her back, he wasn't impressed or swayed by abstract thought of kissing her - he didn't want any of those things. If he didn't want the things that came along with a relationship, then clearly he must only want her as a friend. Except-
Why did he feel way about her that he didn't feel about his other friends? He didn't want to braid Meg's hair, he didn't want to lay on the grass and look up at the stars with Antoinette, he didn't want to write music about Nadir. Why was that? What was different? And what was this strange, hollow ache in his chest when he thought about her having a fiancé out there somewhere? Why shouldn't she have a fiancé, especially considering that he didn't want any of the things a fiancé would want?
It confused him to no end.
He took off his wig and mask, placing them on his dresser. He ran his fingers through his own sparse strands of greying hair, desperately trying to come up with an answer to his own questions. He kicked his shoes to the corner of the room, frowning at them as though they were to blame for his troubles, and changed into his pajamas. By the time he was underneath of his blankets and closing his eyes, the best answer he could up with was simply that he wanted to be her friend.
He tried not linger on the question of why the thought of being her friend seemed disappointing to him, as though he wanted more but still not enough to consider her a girlfriend. Was there even something that existed in between 'friend' and 'lover'?
He passed the days without her in a haze, trying to occupy his mind with work but always finding that he missed having her there with him. He missed their lively conversation, and he especially missed her singing, but he also missed just having her simple presence there in the room with him.
He couldn't help the smile on his face when it was finally his day to watch her again. Antoinette dropped her off at the office before departing on her own errands, and Christine had most certainly noticed the look on his face, or at least what she could see if his face - and really, it was no wonder that she could recognize that look - she wore the very same smile on her own face.
"What are you smiling about?" she asked, grinning.
He looked everywhere but at her, trying to feign innocence.
"Nothing, Christine. Who said I was smiling?"
She chuckled softly.
He had a busy morning - questioning some shopkeepers who had last seen a man that was their newest case - but he was looking forward to it all the same.
Although they talked of this and that on the way there, Christine was quiet and still as he cornered and questioned the men. She stayed close to his side, watching as he wrote down notes, her hands clutching her little purse.
Erik liked having her there - it felt nice, even if they weren't able to talk, an unobtrusive presence that still managed to improve the day simply be existing.
The shopkeeper's eyes sidled over to her as he answered Erik's questions. Christine kept her face blank, staring back at him, unblinking. She was used to men staring, but normally she preferred to not make eye contact or acknowledge them. Erik immediately took notice of where the man was looking and cleared his throat. The man flinched and ripped his eyes away from her, nervous. Christine smiled a little, glancing appreciatively up at Erik.
He asked the man two more questions before thanking him icily, then placed an arm around Christine's shoulders, not quiet touching but close enough to keep her near as he walked away from the shopkeeper - close enough to imply that any sort of attention that might be directed towards her was unwelcome.
She waited patiently as he questioned the other shopkeepers, forming her own opinions about the case. When he had finished with his work and finally tucked his notebook into his coat pocket, they made their way out of the store and onto the street.
"Where do you think he is, Erik?" she asked presently.
He scoffed.
"He's probably in a hotel two towns over, nursing a hangover, too embarrassed to come back just yet."
She nodded, thinking it over, then hesitated.
"And where... where do you think Raoul is?" she asked softly.
His shoulders drooped. She so rarely brought up the boy, but she was always so pensive when she did, and it killed him to have to admit that he was no closer to finding him than he had been when they first took the case.
"I am not certain, Christine," he said quietly. "Your boy seems to have disappeared without a trace, I'm afraid."
"There's still the masquerade," she added, trying to sound hopeful.
He smiled a little sadly. He didn't know what they would do if the masquerade turned up to have no new clues for them. He hadn't mentioned it to Antoinette, but he had yet to take the option of frightening Philippe into spilling his secrets off of the table. There would be trouble with the Daroga, of course, but surely it could get sorted out.
"There's always the masquerade," he agreed with her.
She chewed at her lip a little as they walked along.
"It feels like he's been gone forever," she said, her voice barely audible, slightly wistful. "I- I miss him."
His heart sank. He glanced down at her.
"We'll find him," he promised her. "I won't give up until he's back."
She sniffed hard and nodded.
"I trust you," she said earnestly, looking up at him and smiling as best she could.
Her trust felt like a punch in the gut. He didn't deserve it, he knew that. He'd looked as best he could for her boy and still he had next to nothing that would help in finding him. She trusted him, and he feared he was only going to disappoint her.
They arrived back at the office, their conversation turning to lighter matters, mainly on the topic of music. They both could talk about music endlessly, it seemed, and it always brightened her mood.
The opera house had announced its latest production for the next season, a new show based on an old folk tale, and Christine was excited to be understudying for Carlotta, who was cast as the Fairy Queen. She had an appointment later that afternoon to meet with the director and pick up her copy of the score, something Erik would have liked to have been there for, but was prevented from doing so by the rest of his work.
"It's going to be a gorgeous production, even more so on the nights you perform," he told her after hearing about the plans for the set designs.
She smiled, pleased.
"I don't really know how many performances I'll get to do, but I do hope I can do at least one."
There was a knock at the door, which Erik answered. It was Antoinette and Nadir, just as expected.
"I'm ready to go to the opera house when you are, Christine," Antoinette greeted her.
Nadir sat down on the couch as Christine went to grab her purse from across the room.
"Remember to bring the score with you tomorrow, I want to see it," Erik added. "And let me know what the director says."
"Of course!" she beamed up at him.
"We can start work on the new songs as soon as we have a few spare moments in between work."
"Oh, I'd like that."
"I don't anticipate you needing much more than repetition for memorization - the queen of the fairies was a role that was made you."
Her cheeks turned pink.
"Oh, I don't know about that..."
"Have a lovely evening, my dear," Erik said softly.
"Thank you, Angel. I'll see you tomorrow," she glanced back one last time before following Antoinette out the door.
Erik stared after them a moment, their faint figures blurred by the frosted glass of the door's window. When at last he turned, he was slightly startled by the unexpected expression on Nadir's face.
"The devil are you looking at me like that for, Daroga?" he smoothed down the lapels of his trench coat, suddenly uncomfortable.
"My dear?" Nadir raised an eyebrow, his grin growing. "Oh, Erik - I think you have a little crush on the mademoiselle Daaé!"
Erik sputtered.
"Do you even hear the things that come out of your mouth sometimes?" he glared at him. "What would make you go and say a thing like that?"
Nadir waved a hand, gesturing to the entire room.
"The way you behave around her, Erik. Really, I've never seen you act like that."
"Like what?" he asked petulantly, his face burning.
"Charming. Caring... Dare I say tender," he teased lightly. "And she called you Angel. It's obviously mutual."
"Stop," Erik looked away, pained. "It's not like that, you know it."
Nadir shrugged.
"It's not a bad thing, Erik, to care for someone..."
"I only called her that because that's what Antoinette is constantly calling her - how am I not supposed to let it accidentally slip when I hear her called that more than her own name?"
Erik was clearly agitated, but Nadir couldn't really see why. He didn't want to push him, but he truly had never seen him look at anyone the way he looked at Christine. And if it was this obvious from the few mere moments he had seen them together-
Erik might protest all he wished, but the young lady had given her own term of endearment to him as well.
He knew he shouldn't prod at him so, that he should drop it as Erik had asked of him, but before he could stop himself, he blurted out-
"You might not feel anything for her but she clearly likes you, at least."
Erik couldn't understand the despair he felt at being told that he didn't feel anything for her - it was infuriating, almost, but he couldn't even name what he did feel for her, so how was it even real? How could it even matter, if it couldn't be quantified or qualified? And wasn't he the one arguing that he didn't have a crush on her?
"She likes me because she's stuck being around me, that's all," he settled on saying. "She has no real choice in the matter - she could like me or be miserable instead."
"I saw how she looked at you," he said carefully. "I don't really think that was just because she has to be around you..."
Erik peeled off his gloves and threw them down to the desk one at a time, glaring at them as they fell.
"It doesn't matter," he said, defeat creeping in at the edges of his words. "She's engaged to be married."
"I didn't see a ring."
Erik shook his head.
"No, but I've seen her with her boy. They're clearly in love - you should have seen how they were all over each other... and kissing," he grimaced. "She won't care a fig for me after I find Raoul."
Nadir's brow furrowed.
"Raoul?"
Erik turned on his heel, rolling his eyes.
"Yes, yes - Raoul. She's engaged to missing Vicomte. Do try to keep up, Daroga."
Nadir was quiet a moment.
"When did you see Raoul and Christine together?"
Erik paused.
"After her last performance as Marguerite, at the Populaire," he said carefully.
"You never told me you were there that night," Nadir kept his gaze steady.
Erik shrugged.
"So?"
"That's the night Raoul disappeared."
"I didn't see anything suspicious, so I didn't see a need to say anything," Erik shrugged again, crossing his arms as he leaned against the desk.
Nadir simply studied him for a moment, deep in thought.
Erik broke eye contact, finally having to look away. It stung - didn't the man trust him? Did he need to report his whereabouts to him constantly like was - like he still was - some kind of criminal?
"Raoul's case is actually why I came by tonight," Nadir said at last.
"Did you find anything?" he perked up a little.
Nadir shook his head, frowning.
"Just the opposite, I'm afraid," he sighed. "But hopefully it'll lead to something new - the police chief of the next district over got wind of the case, and since we've had so little to go on, he offered to pitch in. His name is Edwards."
Erik scowled, refusing to look at Nadir.
"Is that so?" he said tightly. "Just how many people are laughing at our supposed incompetence, anyway?"
"Oh, Erik, it's not like that... The young man is a Vicomte, after all - of course his case is going to get a lot of press. It's not a personal slight on you."
Erik still felt that way, all the same - was it not bad enough that poor Christine had to ask him where her boy might be, did all of the neighboring districts have to get involved too? He wanted to fume at the sheer insolence of this Edwards but each time he nearly opened his clenched jaw to pronounce a pox upon the man, he was reminded that he truly was coming up short in finding Raoul.
"Anyway," Nadir continued. "He's coming over to meet you all tomorrow, and to get copies of any of your notes on the case. I've already met with him today, and we went over all we knew. He was quite eager to meet you, really."
Erik clenched his jaw a little harder. Yes, everyone was eager to come stare at the freak.
"Fine," was all he said.
Nadir stayed and talked a while longer, on topics other than Edwards or the Vicomte, and by the end of it Erik was feeling a little less prickly about the whole matter. By the time Nadir left, he had resigned himself to meeting the man the next morning. The sooner he met him the sooner they could find the boy, and the sooner he was found the sooner he would be back in his fiancée's arms again. And didn't Christine deserve to have him back by now?
Erik would, after all, do anything for Christine.