Accidental Affection

In the chair nearest to the bookshelf, Angelique was mumbling to herself about arrangements while Erik went through the lyrical changes of the latest song. It was an oddly comfortable feeling, being in the same room but feeling as if they were worlds apart. Every so often one would look up, stealing a quick glance at the other before turning back to their work.

For months, this same thing had been going on. Day in and day out, they would work on their respective pieces of the opera, stopping only long enough to ask one another's advice. Neither of them minded very much, the lack of discussion spared them the awkwardness of saying too much.

Although he assured her that he was working diligently on the lyrics, Erik had as of late taken to working on a sketch of Angelique. There was something about the intensity with which she worked on the music of the opera that he felt he had to capture.

Suddenly, she looked up at him. Forgetting her music altogether, she dropped the pen onto the small table that was between the chairs.

"I'm going up," she said, standing up and stretching her arms. Shuffling papers quickly, Erik tucked the sketch of her under the lyric sheets. "I am out of ink."

"There's plenty of ink. I'll…" Before he could stand up, Angelique shook her head. Her beautiful eyes bored into his.

"I am out of ink."

"Very well, my dear. And while you're up there, could I trouble you to pick up some tea? We have only three bags left." He stood up to see Angelique to the door, and they walked out to the boat.

"Of course. Darjeeling Light Blend." Settling into the bow of the small craft, Angelique reached up to take Erik's hand before he pushed the boat away from the dock. "I shall return soon. I haven't forgotten what day it is." The boat drifted away into the darkness, and Erik looked after her.

He had almost forgotten the day himself. Once she returned, he would have to go to the Opera Populaire to discuss his salary with the managers. Last month, he had finally decided that it was time for the gradual reduction of his salary to end, and today was payday. Erik wanted to give Angelique the best of everything, but it wouldn't be possible if his salary continued to decrease with such rapidity.

Once she was out of his sight, Erik leaned against the gate. He had no doubt that she needed a break. For months, all she had been doing was writing music, playing music, thinking music. Already, they were on the last scenes of Act One. True, they weren't concerning themselves with orchestrations until the choral and piano parts were through, but he had never known any composer to create such beautiful melodies in such a short length of time.

Since both parties involved in the creation of this opera were nothing short of obsessed with making everything about it perfect, there was none of the usual fawning and prancing around one another's mistakes that often came with the territory of two friends co-authoring a piece.

Not just friends, Erik thought miserably as he walked up the stairs to the study. A man hopelessly infatuated with a woman young enough to be his daughter twice over.

Picking up the sketch of Angelique from the table in the study, he examined it carefully before taking it to his room. There was no need to romanticize her image, she was already beautiful enough. But as he placed it in the leather jacket with the other sketches, he wondered why he had suddenly taken to sketching portraits.

Even with Christine, he hadn't thought to draw a picture of her. Erik had never really been interested in depicting the human form, static castles and monuments were much more his style. The sweeping arch of a building or even a cathedral held significantly more meaning to him than any person, for there wasn't a bridge built that would judge him the way people did. What picture could he have possibly drawn of Christine? Her fear of him? The sadness that always seemed to be in her eyes when she was with him?

With Angelique, there was intensity, fury, even tenderness in the movements he captured while they sat together in the study or worked on the music. She was a woman like no other, and these were the images he wanted to depict…in case she ever left.

It was a thought he didn't like to entertain, but an altogether possible one. Once the opera was finished, what was to stop her from leaving? Of course she said she wanted to remain with him, but how long could a woman like her want to stay hidden away in a crypt like this? Closing the jacket, Erik sat down at his organ.

Beginning a loud, frantic piece of music, he tried to shove these thoughts as far out of his mind as possible. Perhaps if he didn't think about them, they would go away.

* * *

Above, it was summer in Paris. Angelique had forgotten this most important fact, and it had only taken her a few minutes to become hot and sticky beyond all belief. The price of acting like a lady was high, and she wondered how the other women walking along the Champs Elysses managed to look so fresh and cool.

She had already picked up the ink and tea, but for some reason she had wanted to walk around in the fresh air for a while. As stiflingly hot as it was, the city was still beautiful in summer, and for the first time in what seemed like an eternity she was glad to simply be alive.

From the park, Angelique could hear strange music playing. Wondrously foreign melodies touched her ears, and she hurried in their direction. Coming around the corner, she was amused to see that a small band of Gypsies had set down. Remembering what her mother had said about Gypsies, Angelique made sure that her purse was secure before taking a few steps closer to them.

It was like stepping into a different country the moment she walked into the carnival. Jugglers and magicians were everywhere, and she didn't know where to look next. Beneath a tree, several girls dressed in gaudy Gypsy skirts were dancing to the tune of fiddles, and Angelique went closer to them. They looked enviably comfortable in their thin cotton clothes, making her wish for her own simple dress. Looking nice for Erik was more trouble than it was worth, especially when she didn't think it made a shred of difference to him whether or not she went around in her underclothes.

Sitting down onto a patch of grass, Angelique tried to lose herself in the graceful, fluid movements of the dancers. Their fluttering scarves, along with the speed and precision of the traditional dances entranced her easily, and for a while she managed to forget her cares. Once they had finished, she clapped noisily for them before placing a good sum of money into their collection basket. While the youngest two girls argued over who would get the largest share of the money, Angelique wandered over to the magician's tent.

When she finally came out and got a look at the sun, she realized just how long she had been at the carnival and gasped softly. She had completely forgotten about Erik's appointment, and she hurried towards the Rue Scribe.

Just before she left the park, however, her eyes fell onto a crumpled old woman sitting beneath a tree. The woman was working silently at mending the hem of a dress, and Angelique noticed the pile of clothes that surrounded her.

"Excuse me, Madame, but are any of these clothes for sale?" Angelique knelt beside the woman, who didn't even look up at her.

"No."

"That's a pity. I was quite prepared to give you quite a good sum of money for a dress." Angelique reached out to touch one of the dresses, and the old woman finally looked up at her.

"How much?"

"Name your price." For some reason, Angelique was entranced by these colorful scraps of clothing. The women wearing them looked as if they were so free, as if nothing could ever bother them. The crone named her price, and Angelique paid it with a dubious look. At once, the old woman became the epitome of kindness.

"Here, my girl, this color would look best on you. And you must have a scarf as well in case it gets cold at night." The woman handed her a bundle of folded clothes, and Angelique smiled. Now the woman was looking at her strangely, as if she were trying to decide something.

"Merci beaucoup," Angelique stood up slowly, and started out of the park towards the Rue Scribe. Before long, the sun would be going down and Erik would need to be on his way. As the young woman ran down the street, the Gypsy woman murmured something just below the edge of hearing.

"Poshratt," she murmured softly, shaking her head as she went back to mending the clothes that lay beside her.

* * *

"Good luck!" Standing at the edge of the dock, Angelique waved to Erik as he set off to speak with the managers. She had returned just in time for him to get into the boat and hurry off to the opera house.

Putting the tea in the kitchen, Angelique went upstairs to put away the ink and her new dress as well. Gently pushing open the door to Erik's room, she went inside to set the ink on his shelf. As she placed the fresh pot of red ink onto the shelf, she noticed a leather folder sitting on the edge of the organ.

For a moment, she wondered just what was in the folder. Surely Erik wouldn't know if she took just a little peek… Angelique turned away from the folder abruptly and hurried out of the room. She couldn't believe what she had almost done. If it had been any other person, she would have looked without hesitation. But Erik trusted her, and if she was to betray that…he might truly start to regret allowing her to live there.

Slowly, Angelique went into her room and hung up the dress she had bought. It was a beautiful thing, blue and green with ornately patterned trim. The scarf was green, and it matched the dress nicely. Resisting the urge to wear it right away, she closed the closet door with a smile. This would make a nice surprise for a special occasion.

Returning to the study, she started work on the opera again. The haunting Gypsy melodies were fueling new thoughts, and she immediately began trying to replicate one of the tunes she had just heard. After all, Esmeralda was a Gypsy…this would be a perfect opportunity to work in the ballet dancers. If, of course, the managers could see to it that they worked a bit on their steps.

Now that she thought about the managers, Angelique wondered how Erik was faring with them. No doubt he would get his original salary back, but he always seemed to return from dealing with them in such a bad mood. An idea popped into her head, and she smiled happily. At first it seemed like a silly thing, but the more she thought about it the more she was determined to make it work.

Setting the pen down, Angelique ran downstairs. If this didn't make him happy, nothing would.

* * *

Irritated from arguing with the managers, Erik stalked from one shadow to another towards the jeweler's shop. When he was mad at one person, the rest of the world felt his anger as well. While he had reassured Angelique earlier that she wasn't that late, now he was sufficiently annoyed to partially blame her for the argument. After all, she had made him late.

The darkness that had enshrouded Paris was deep, and he was able to easily avoid the stares of the citizens by keeping to the alleyways and shadows where he knew they wouldn't think to look.

It wasn't long before he was at the back door of the jeweler's. It took him just a few seconds to pop open the ridiculously uncomplicated lock, and he went into the shop to look around. This was much easier than the way most people shopped, with an annoying salesperson looking over their shoulders.

Once he had selected the watch, Erik placed some money on the counter and left. Jamming it into his pocket, he fumed down the street towards the Rue Scribe. Maybe this would help her figure out how to be home on time. As soon as he reached the entrance to the Rue Scribe, he realized with some exasperation that he had left the boat at the little dock in the Opera House's Fifth Cellar.

Cursing to himself, Erik made his way back to the Opera Populaire. It was halfway across town from the point he was at, and the anger with the general state of things that day was like a thick cloud hanging over his mind.

As he turned the corner, another shadow moved. Unexpectedly, a man stepped out of the shadows to block Erik's path. With a sigh, Erik made a detour to the right. Undaunted, the man moved to the right.

"Looks like I'm in luck tonight," the man said with a smirk. "Just come from the opera, have we?" The thief moved a little closer to the man he had taken to be a wealthy patron coming from a night at the opera. "It would probably be best if you handed over your cash now."

"Out of my way." Not in the mood to play games, Erik pushed his way past the man. From behind him, there was a soft crack. Reacting before he thought, Erik's hand shot back to snatch the piece of pipe in midair, just before it hit the back of his neck. Wrenching the weapon from the man's hand, it was then Erik's turn to smirk. Not bad reflexes for an old man, he thought to himself as he proceeded to grab the would-be assailant by the front of his shirt and throw him into the wall.

"Wh-who the hell are you?" It was more an expression of disbelief than a question, which Erik chose not to respond to as he continued on his way to the entrance to the Opera Populaire. Outraged, the thief jumped up from his place on the ground and ran at Erik's back.

"You insult me, Monsieur." Whirling around, Erik easily ducked the man's punch and retaliated with one of his own that knocked the man backwards. At once the thief knew that he hadn't attacked a normal man. He had thought Erik would be an easy mark, a wealthy older man who just happened to come down the wrong alley after leaving the theatre, but now he saw his error. This man was amazingly strong, and actually seemed to want to fight with him. A dark figure loomed into the man's line of view. "You fight poorly, Monsieur. It's a wonder you make any money at all." With a laugh, he turned his back on the man.

A moment later, there was a searing pain in Erik's shoulder. With a roar of surprise he turned on the man, who was standing just behind him with a knife in his hand. Everything after that was a blur. A red haze had covered his vision, and all he could feel was a burning rage that propelled him onward until he could feel his hands tightening around the man's neck. Snarling like a wounded animal, Erik threw the body into the wall as if it were nothing more than a pillow. The man tried to scramble away, but the Punjab lasso shot out and made him little more than an unpleasant memory before he could get too far.

Moments after the lifeless body fell to the dirty pavement, Erik's head finally cleared. The madness which had seized him only an instant beforehand was fading, to be replaced with a pain that cut him to the bone. It felt as if all the heat in his body was ebbing out through his shoulder, and Erik knew at once he was cut. It hadn't registered earlier that he was wounded, he had been too angry.

While he was fighting with the man, a great deal of his blood had spilled out onto the ground, soaking his shirt in the process. It wasn't so much the sight of his blood, bright on the pavement, that made him ill…he had seen blood before. No, something else was at work here, and he felt an overwhelming need to get back to Angelique.

Trying his best to walk straight, Erik hid his wounded arm beneath his cloak as he made his way to the Opera Populaire, not noticing that he was leaving a small trail of blood behind him as he walked.

By the time he made it to the Fifth Cellar, his breathing had become so ragged that he had to lean on the walls for support. The coolness of the stone beneath his skin was inviting, and for a moment he thought of how nice it would be to sink down upon the stone and close his eyes. But a picture of Angelique lingered just behind his eyes, and he forced himself ever downward to the boat.

When he finally made it across the lake to his house, Erik opened the door with his left hand in order to avoid the burning pain on his right side. The door swung open with a soft creak of hinge, and Angelique appeared at the top of the stairs with a smile. Although he was in great pain, Erik couldn't help but return the smile when he saw her. It was a great relief to see her face, and he moved toward her. There was some sort of white powder in her hair as well as on her cheeks, and her fingers were spotted with red ink.

"Erik! You're finally back!" She hurried down the stairs to meet him, and Erik looked at her. "Do you wish to hear the good news or the bad first?"

"Do either of them explain what's in your hair?" Now he was having a bit of trouble breathing, and he hoped that Angelique wouldn't notice. She blushed a little in the dimness of the house, and ran a hand through her hair to eliminate the flour as she began to follow Erik up the stairs.

"Well, I finished the big finish at the end of the third scene a bit ago. You're probably going to want to look over it tonight to see what kind of lyrics will go best with the tenor's solo." As she spoke, Erik noticed a strange smell.

"Does the bad news have something to do with the fact that my house is burning?" It was taking a great effort to make this small quip, and Angelique self-consciously cleared her throat.

"I was…um, writing the music while I was cooking and I got so involved with the music that I forgot about the dinner. The crepes were officially dead twenty minutes ago." Her remark earned her an odd look, and Angelique smiled sheepishly. "For some reason, the edges of them turned out fine. But somehow the bottoms came out black and the middles are soggy."

"You were making dinner?" Somehow, his voice sounded as if it were coming from someone else's mouth. They reached Erik's room, and Angelique nodded as he looked at her. "Why in blazes were you doing a thing like that?"

"Oh, I don't know…I just felt like doing something useful around here." Shrugging a little, she nodded towards the stairs. "Perhaps I'd better go down and see if I can make some better crepes. Maybe I can save something."

"If I've told you once, I must have told you a hundred times that food really doesn't interest me, my dear." At that moment, he was wishing that she would just go downstairs so he could check his shoulder without her watching. Erik could feel a thin rivulet of blood run down his arm under his shirt, and it lingered for a moment on the tip of his finger before dripping onto the floor. In the low light, Angelique didn't notice.

"Still, I think I'll try." Looking determined, she turned around and went towards the stairs. Relieved, Erik went into his room and pulled off his cloak. There was a bright red patch of wetness traveling down his arm from the shoulder, and even then it was rapidly growing as he watched.

"Damn," he growled, keeping his voice low. The last thing he needed was for Angelique to see this mess. Under no circumstances did he want her to know how careless he had been.

"Would you rather I tried to make something…" Too late he heard her voice behind him as she stood in the doorway of his room, then heard the soft gasp as her voice trailed off. "Oh, Erik…what's happened?"

"I am fine."

"No you aren't…you're bleeding!" Her boots made a soft tapping on the floor as she went to him and looked carefully at his shoulder, placing a hand near it gingerly. "Does it hurt much?"

"Like the devil," he murmured through clenched teeth as another bolt of pain shot through his arm. Angelique nodded, then took his left arm.

"Come here and sit on my bed, there's more light in here." Firmly, she pulled him into her bedroom and motioned for him to sit down. Erik was surprised by how calm she was being, and she danced around him a little. "You…you don't mind if I take this side of your shirt off, do you?" Now she looked a little uncomfortable, and Erik nodded.

"Go right ahead." Erik watched her with a sort of detached interest as she slowly unfastened the buttons of his crisp white shirt, revealing a shoulder painted red with blood. Dipping the corner of one of her handkerchiefs in the washbasin, she carefully set about cleaning the blood away from the cut. Although the water stung his wound a bit, Erik didn't protest. Angelique's touch was as gentle as if she were caring for a child, and she looked up at him.

"It doesn't look too serious, thank goodness. I know you must have something around here to put on this, where should I look?" She listened closely to Erik's directions, then nodded. "Very well, I shall be right back." Standing up, Angelique reached over to press one cool hand to his uncovered cheek. "Don't even think about moving." After she disappeared from the room, the memory of her gentle touch lingered on his skin. She returned a moment later with some bottles in her hands and a fresh shirt draped over her arm. The pleasant smile was still on her face, and Erik wondered what it was taking for her to be able to do this without feeling ill. "First, I want you to have a drink of this. It's the one you gave me when I was in pain." Opening one of the bottles, Angelique poured out a capful of the sweet elixir. "This is the right one, isn't it?"

"Yes…" For a moment, Erik couldn't remember if it was the anodyne he had mixed for Angelique. But he forgot all about it when she gently pressed the cap to his lips, encouraging him to drink it. He did as she wanted him to, and Angelique smiled.

"There we go. Now, I brought you a clean shirt as well. If I can get the stain out, I believe I can fix the tear in the one you're wearing."

"This really isn't necessary, Angelique…"

"Of course it is." Her voice left no room for debate, and she picked up a washcloth to wipe away the fresh blood which had begun streaming down his arm again. "What a nuisance," she murmured as she pressed her handkerchief over the cut. "Perhaps it would be easier just to take off your shirt completely."

"Whatever you wish." Slowly, Erik began to remove the shirt. Angelique helped him as best she could, still holding the cloth firmly on his shoulder. A small amount of blood was beginning to seep through the kerchief, and she made an annoyed sound.

"It's good that the knife didn't go all the way through your shoulder. It was a knife, wasn't it?" Carefully, she dabbed the strange smelling liquid over his cut. Some of the bleeding had finally let up, but she kept the handkerchief over it anyway. The feeling of Erik's blood on her fingers made her a little queasy, but Angelique was certain he wouldn't want a squeamish little girl around him, and she continued doctoring his wound. Glancing up at him, she was sure she saw him flinch. "Am I hurting you?"

"Not at all. And it was indeed a knife. Some imbecile took it upon himself to try and rob me, and I am afraid he caught me off-guard." Erik watched her closely as she wrapped a long strip of cloth around his shoulder. Every movement she made seemed to be infused with such caring and gentleness that he found himself on the verge of tears.

"There." Tucking the end of the bandage under, she patted his shoulder gently. "Let's get your shirt back on, okay?" Her little fingers fastened the row of buttons on his shirt again. "Now you look human again." Unexpectedly, tears had begun to flow over his face. Angelique bit her lip. "I'm sorry…does it hurt that badly?"

"No one…has ever been so kind to me…"

"My poor Erik. My poor, dear Erik." Leaning over him, Angelique kissed his cheek gently. His heart nearly stopped as he felt her lips against his skin. "You gave me such a fright." Angelique's voice was soft as her slender fingers brushed softly against his cheek, wiping away his tears. Erik reached up to take her hand, and she smiled.

"Angelique…you're so gracious to me. Why?" In response, she frowned a little at him. One of her fingers moved over a chip in his white mask.

"Here, wouldn't you be more comfortable without this thing on?" Carefully, she moved as if she was going to remove the mask, and Erik pulled her hand away gently.

"Please, Angelique, don't do this."

"I'm just thinking of your best interests. When I was a child, you didn't mind my seeing your face." Gently breaking free of his grasp, she touched the mask again. Angrily, Erik snatched her hand away a little more roughly. All thoughts of gratitude had been driven out of his mind by the instinct of self-defense that had become so finely tuned over the years.

"That was twenty years ago! Damn you, why must you do this to me? Does it really interest you so much to see the abomination of a face that I was given?" Looking back up at her, Erik was able to see that indignant tears were welling up into the polished stones of her eyes.

"Because I care about you! You're making it very hard for me, but I do!" Springing up from the edge of the bed where she was sitting, Angelique turned her back on him. A stab of guilt shot through Erik's heart, and he reached out to take her hand.

"I care about you as well. But I don't want you to look at me the way everyone else has since the day I was born." Angelique refused to turn back around, and when she spoke, her voice was shaking.

"You know I wouldn't do that. My God, Erik, don't you know me better than that? I don't care what you look like."

"You would if you saw me," he said softly, and she turned around to face him. Erik saw that tears had begun to fall over her cheeks. "You just don't understand."

"But I want to understand." Once again her hand was on his cheek, a tiny invader breaking through his defenses. "Why won't you give me the chance?"

"My dear, if you were ever to be afraid of me, if you ever looked at me in fear…I would die. You are the only woman who had ever dared to treat me like a person instead of an animal, and I won't allow that to change. I won't allow you to fear me and I won't have you pity me." While he spoke, his eyes were locked onto her face. Even in the candlelight, he could see the tears glistening on her face. "Please, if you never listen to me again, listen to me this time."

"Why can't you trust me?" Angelique's voice was heavy with tears, but the note of hurt that it carried was clear. "I'm not like the others." Her hand had returned to her lap, and she flexed her fingers. "Erik…when you told me that I would always be safe down here with you, I trusted you. Apparently with good reason. You've never let anything harm me. Now…all I want you to do is trust me."

"Angelique…"

"Why don't I go check on dinner." Softly, she got up from her seat on the bed and started towards the door. Standing in the doorway she turned to him, looking as if she wanted to say something. Whatever it was didn't seem quite as important, and Angelique disappeared into the hallway.

Fighting the pain in his shoulder, as well as the influence of the opiate that was beginning to act on him, Erik pulled himself off the bed and went downstairs to where Angelique was sitting at the dinner table. He could hear her crying softly into a clean handkerchief, and hurried over to her.

"Please, don't cry." Gently, he placed a hand on her back. Angelique seemed to shrink away from him, and Erik closed his eyes. "This is really for the best, Angelique."

"How do you know what's best for me?" Her voice was muffled, but her words struck directly into Erik's heart. "You don't even trust me."

"Trust you? You want me to trust you?" There was an edge to his voice that he hadn't intended, and he reached over to grab her wrist. Pulling her to her feet, Erik brought her close enough to his face that she could see his eyes through his mask. She had seen them before, although not quite this closely. They were mismatched; one seemed as black as night while the other was a grayish blue, but Angelique wasn't discouraged. "If it means so much to you, take the damned thing off." Dropping her wrist, Erik stood before her with feeble resignation. Slowly, one of her hands moved towards his mask. Erik closed his eyes, anticipating her scream of fear. But it didn't come, and her hand didn't remove the mask. Opening his eyes, Erik saw that she was shaking her head.

"No…I won't hurt you like this. Please, forgive me for being so selfish." Turning to walk back to her room, Angelique was stopped by the gentle touch of Erik's hand on her shoulder.

"I know I shall regret this." The aching had moved from his shoulder to his chest, and as Angelique faced him again, he reached up and slowly removed the mask. Silence filled the house, and her face went white as her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Erik shook his head. "Still think I look human?" There was no hiding the bitterness in his voice, but Angelique simply took a moment to compose herself before walking towards him and pressing a hand to the massive deformities that covered most of his face.

"Of course I do. Did I not say it doesn't matter what you look like?" Color had returned to her cheeks, and she gently ran her fingers over his cheek. Out of nowhere, tears began to fall from his eyes. "Oh…Erik, what's wrong?"

"How can you stand to look at me? To touch me? Even my own mother…" His voice faded as he looked away from Angelique, and she carefully turned his face back to her. Much to his surprise, her eyes were filled with concern.

"You have to believe me, Erik. I'm not like them. All I want is for you to be happy." Pressing her hands to his chest, Angelique smiled up at him. "You mean so very much to me."

"Why?" Even as she stood before him, Erik couldn't believe that a woman was speaking these words to him. The scent of lavender on her clothes was almost overpowering, and she stood on her tiptoes to tenderly kiss his misshapen cheek.

"You protect me, you teach me… but it's more than simply returning a favor. I care for you in so many ways that I can't describe just one of them. And I…oh!" Gasping softly, Angelique touched his shoulder. "Oh, dear, you're leaking. Come on, let's get you back upstairs."

"Anything. Anything for you, my dear." The dizziness that had suddenly come upon him was due to more than just the drug she had given him, and a impish look came onto her face.

"In that case, I want you to sleep on my bed tonight. That coffin cannot be comfortable on that shoulder, and I don't want anything to happen to you." Helping Erik up the stairs was no easy task as he was taller than she by a great margin, but she managed somehow.

"But where will you sleep?"

"The couch in the corner. And I won't stand for any argument on the subject." They walked into her room, and Angelique helped him onto the bed. "There." Removing the mask from his hand, she placed it on her nightstand before carefully re-bandaging his wound. Once she was through, she looked up at him. "How are you doing?"

"A bit light-headed, actually." As he spoke, Angelique noticed that his eyes were fixed on her face. She attributed this to nothing more than the sedative effect of the medicine, and placed a hand gently on his cheek.

"Don't worry about anything. I promise I'll be right here beside you." It wasn't much longer before Erik had fallen asleep, and Angelique pulled the comforter over his still body. It was a bit chilly down here sometimes, and the last thing she wanted was for him to catch cold.

As she tucked the comforter carefully around his injured shoulder, she moved to examine his face more closely. She had been shocked at first, most certainly, but all she had to do to regain her composure was think of the gentle way he picked her up after she had nearly been knocked unconscious on that New Year's Eve, the beautiful lyrics and melodies that came from his imagination, and the way his laughter made her feel positively warm all over.

Though Erik never spoke of the details of his childhood or life before Angelique had met him, it was obvious from the way he quickly refused any affectionate contact that his life had been terribly hard. Looking upon his true face in the flickering light of the candle, she wished that she could erase all the hate and pain he had been subjected to over the years with her affection for him. At that moment, she hated those who had hurt him even more than she hated the robbers who had killed her parents.

Tenderly as a lover, Angelique smoothed his dark hair down with her fingertips as she gazed at his sleeping face. There was nothing else to be done about it. Now that she had seen his unmasked face, she knew she was completely and hopelessly in love with this man who tried so hard to push her away from him. Cautiously, so as not to wake him, Angelique leaned down to lightly plant a kiss on his forehead. Erik slept on.

True to her word, Angelique sat next to him all night.

* * *

When he awoke, it took Erik a moment to realize where he was. He knew for a fact that he wasn't in his own room. Frowning, he looked around. Was he in…Angelique's room?

"Look, he's awake." A soft voice piped up cheerfully from the dressing table. Turning his attention towards it, Erik saw that Angelique was rummaging through her sewing basket. She removed a little pair of scissors and proceeded to snip off the end of the thread she was holding before returning to the bedside. It was another moment before he realized that it was his shirt that she was so diligently mending, and she set it aside. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm not sure." A low, deep-set throbbing had come into his shoulder, and a memory of the night before drifted through his hazy mind. Angelique shook her head as she moved a bit closer to him

"Well, you certainly gave me an awful scare last night!" Although she was trying to be cheerful, the worry that saturated her voice was painfully evident. Erik could see that her eyes were red and tired-looking, and her dress was wrinkled. "I thought about knocking you out for three days, but that would just be plagiarism wouldn't it?"

"Have you been here all night?" Incredulous, Erik watched as Angelique nodded. "What in blazes possessed you to…" At once, an awful realization crept over him. Sitting upright, Erik reached up to try and cover his face with his hands. Doing so sent a shock of pain through his right arm, but it seemed much more important that Angelique not see his face. "What have you done with my mask?"

"Stop being silly," Angelique said, gently removing his hands from his face. "You'll start bleeding again." Her hands were surprisingly strong for a woman's, and Erik looked up at her.

"Angelique…please…I don't want you to see me like this. I don't want you…you of all people…to pity me." The pleading helplessness in his voice disgusted him, and he looked away from the caring eyes that were fixed on him. Firmly, Angelique turned his face back to hers.

"Pity you? Is that really how little you think of me?" Unable to bring himself to look in her eyes, Erik noticed that little curls of hair had escaped from the loose braid she had arranged. The light from the candle was catching these little curls and turning them into a sort of glowing halo as she smiled at him. "I may have a certain amount of pity for your situation, the way your life has been, but I could never pity you." A small laugh escaped her lips. "You wouldn't let me."

"Angelique…"

"There's much more to a man than just his face," she whispered gently as she leaned her face a little closer to his. "Especially if that man is as exceptional as you are, Erik." Her lips were close enough to his face to kiss him, but her words were sweeter than any kiss could have been. With a little smile, she stood up. "I've finished repairing your shirt."

"There's no need for you to…"

"I can't stand to see torn clothes," she interrupted, shaking her head. "Besides, it's just a little rip." Angelique turned to pick up the shirt again, then looked back at Erik. "Are you hungry or anything? I still have a plate of burnt crepes downstairs."

"That's quite all right. I believe I'll just go to my room and rest." Pulling himself up from the bed, Erik incurred a doubtful look from Angelique as he took the mask from the bedside table and put it over his face.

"I'd much rather you stayed here. But whatever makes you feel better." Moving the little bench so he could pass, Angelique placed a hand on his uninjured shoulder gently. "If you need anything, please don't hesitate to call for me."

"Why don't you get a little rest yourself?" Smiling, Erik caught her chin and turned her face up towards his. "You look exhausted, my dear."

"I'm fine, really. Actually, I'd probably do better to work some more on the opera. I didn't get a single thing done last night." Erik gave her a highly dubious look, and Angelique tried to smile reassuringly. "Don't worry about me, I know my own limits." The shadows beneath her eyes said something completely different, however, and as she went off down the hallway to the study, Erik shook his head. There was no reasoning with that woman.

Picking up his mended shirt and cravat, he went down the hall to his room. Once he was there, he proceeded to put on a slightly more comfortable shirt. Angelique had meant well, but the shirt she had given him was a bit too small. Inspecting the bandaging job on his shoulder, Erik was impressed with the thorough job she had done. The memories of her hands on his skin returned as if through a haze, and a surge of warmth passed over him.

Quickly pulling the other shirt over his body, he quickly buttoned it and pulled his smoking jacket over it. Remembering the watch that was in his pocket, Erik searched through his dress jacket until he found it and turned it around. Going silently to her room, he placed it on her nightstand, a silent token of his gratitude as well as his affection for her. For a moment he stared at it, trying to picture the look on her face when she found it. A sudden idea came into his mind, and Erik hurried back down the hall.

Back in his own room, he pulled out a piece of paper and his leads. As he outlined the picture from within his memory, he wondered just why she had sat with him all night…without his mask, no less! But the state of his face didn't seem to concern her any more than the state of his room, although she had seemed a little shocked at first by it.

All the memories of the night before were returning as the drug completely wore off, the careful way she had taken care of him, the quarrel they had over the mask, and finally his revealing his face to her. And as if confirming the accuracy of her name, she had continued to treat him as she had all these months. If he had known she was going to be as pleasant as she was that morning, he would have removed the mask sooner!

But it didn't confirm or deny whether or not she actually had feelings for him. As happy as he had felt just minutes earlier, it turned into agony when he thought she might just be acting kind, as Christine had done in order to get him to allow her to go back to Raoul the first time.

Somehow, though, he knew this wasn't true. Angelique was forever proving that although she was quite adept at hiding her feelings, she certainly wasn't a woman who hid her distaste at things. A spider had meandered through the dining room, and the woman had shrieked to heaven until he had removed the creature. But from her perch on the top of her chair, she had made certain that he wasn't actually going to harm it, asking him if he would please just put it outside. Certainly she knew the futility of that gesture, the spider would only find his way back inside.

Spiders were most definitely her weak spot, and she would crawl up onto something and scream loudly until Erik came to remove the insect from her view. And if he wasn't at home, she would crawl onto something and remain there until he returned. Once, he found her on the bookshelf. When Erik had mentioned the fact that the spider was perfectly capable of crawling up there with her, her face had turned white and she had threatened him with a book. And when he had laughed at her, she had pitched several of the books at him.

After a while, he was sure he had just been removing the same spider over and over. But no matter how many times he did so, it never became too tedious. The look of relief on her face was thanks enough for him, and he suspected that he was beginning to enjoy having her depend on him for something.

Beneath his hands, the picture was done. Although he wasn't sure how long he had been working at it, the image on the page was nothing short of perfection. Tucking it into the leather folder, Erik started down the hall towards the study. Maybe one day he would actually show her the drawings.

Entering the study, he had to hold back his laughter when he saw Angelique. She had fallen asleep on the little writing desk, the quill still grasped in her little fingers. Her face looked completely peaceful, and he was reluctant to wake her up. Still, he couldn't let her sleep in that position, it looked greatly uncomfortable.

As soon as he placed a hand on her back, her eyes fluttered open unsurely to look up at him. Blinking, she picked her head up from the table and, realizing that she had been asleep, sat bolt upright in her chair.

"I wasn't asleep. I was just…checking to see if the desk was level." Suddenly, Erik roared with laughter, causing Angelique's face to flush with embarrassment. "It's not that funny," she grumbled defensively. Without a word, Erik took her arm and led her to her room, the only room in the house with a mirror. Still laughing, he turned her cheek toward the glass to show her what he was laughing at.

Printed backwards across the side of her face in bright red ink were the last eight bars of Act One. Angelique turned even redder as Erik tried to contain his laughter, and she reached for a handkerchief.

"No, no," he managed through his chuckling. "We can't have you ruin a masterpiece like this!" Inspecting her cheek closer, Erik started laughing again. "Of course, this means you'll have to walk around with Phoebus' final chord on your cheek for the rest of your life."

"I'm glad you find it so hilarious!" With a smile, Angelique folded her arms. "I simply live to amuse you." Giving her a handkerchief, Erik smiled.

"Wipe your face."

"Didn't I just say I live to amuse you?"