Waking brought a new miracle. She was still with him; it had not been a dream. She was awake, her fingers moving slowly over his face. When he stirred, she raised herself up and kissed him. "My beloved," he said, wrapping his arms around her and feeling that his very soul was a song of thankfulness. "Angel," she whispered. Then she laughed softly. "I've been awake for ages! But I don't know where to find the light."

In the pitch black of his caves, Erik did usually try to keep a candle burning all night, but of course he knew his lair in the dark. He stepped on the velvet robe as he rolled out of bed and swept it up onto himself in the chill. Five steps to a table with candlesticks on it, candles and matches in the drawer. It was the work of a moment to give her light. He turned, and there she was, curled up with only one eye peeking out. He realized that he would have to design a new set of dreams for himself and that he did not know how there could be more joy than in that moment.

He had assumed that she would soon ask to be led back up to the theater, but it was not so. They were shy and quiet with one another for a little while, until Christine announced that she was hungry. Then it was giggling work for her to burrow down in the bedding to find her chemise and stockings, and he showed her the little screened-off cave where the water was cleanest; she was visibly dismayed at the lack of hot water, and he made a note to design a way to get warm baths for her. When then met back in the corridor, him dressed and her shivering, he was glad to have thought to keep the velvet robe out for her, to wrap her in it snugly and turn back the sleeves.

Aside from the cold, she seemed delighted by his life underground. In the alcove where he cooked his meals, she clapped her hands over the eggs nestled in little shelves kept cool just above the cold stream that ran everywhere through the caverns and also over the odd-looking stove he had built.

"But where does it come from?" He shrugged, really very interested in the bacon sizzling in front of him. "Some of it I take from the theater; some Giry brings me. When I have to, I will go out to the markets before dawn." When she didn't answer, he glanced up to see her frowning. "You cannot steal from the theater anymore," she said. "It's my theater." She frowned even more. "Don't be silly, Erik." "I'm not. It's my theater. Do you think all these caverns connect to the building above by accident? I designed most of it. I built the doors, the docks, and most of the upper corridors with my own hands. It's my theater."

He could honestly say that no one had ever stamped her foot at him before, as Christine did. "I don't care if you built every stone. Stealing is a sin." She laid a hand on his arm. "Promise me that you will stop?" Everything else had changed---why not this? He kissed her hand. "For you, my angel, I promise." Her smile and her kiss were reward enough to make any promise worthwhile. She too seemed entranced by the smell of breakfast, and he could not think of a time when he had felt so at ease. "Can you cook?" he asked her, and she shook her head. "I'm practically useless. I can sing, and dance a little, sew ribbons on toe shoes, and make tea." Erik hugged her. "Hardly useless, gorgeous creature, " he said, running his tongue up the outside of her ear so that she purred. He was tempted to sweep her into his arms and carry her back to bed, but instead he pulled away from her and felt the unfamiliar movement of his face into what he thought was a smile. "In fact, you can make the tea." He took great pleasure in watching her as she scurried about, crouching in front of the grate as she waited for the water to boil. I really will have to warm it up down here.

"Erik," she said after a few moments, still holding her hands over the warm grate. "If you helped build the theater, how old are you?" It was a question with no satisfactory answer. "Somewhere between 35 and 40, I think," he told her. "You don't know?" He shook his head. "When is your birthday?" "That I don't know." She turned to face him fully. "My poor angel," she said. "I cannot imagine what your life has been." There might have been more, but the water boiled and she busied herself with tea. Living alone for so long, he only had one set of dishes, so they sat on the floor by the grate and he fed her as if she was a little bird. At one point he thought to ask her age. "I'm just 18," she said. "And had I known you were a man and not a creature of spirit, I should've asked you for a birthday present." This wondrous girl, his love. "Anything. Name it." She smiled at him. "I want a kiss," she said, which she promptly got. "And more breakfast."

There had never been another day like it. He prowled the caverns as he often did, but this time holding Christine's hand. He had forgotten much of what he had collected over the years, and so he felt he was discovering everything along with her, even as she laughed at his untidiness and the strange assortment of props, set pieces, costumes, inventions, and architectural models. Erik did not think that he had ever heard her really laugh before---certainly not in front of (much less at) him, when she thought he was not mortal and her adoration was mostly awe tinged with fear.

And when they were tired of walking, he fed her again, again made love to her, this time tasting her with a deep thrill, his heart soaring at the sounds of her pleasure. It had been unthinkable, before, that there could ever be such a thing as a second time, much less that it could be better. He did not even know who he was---an infant heart in a man's body, perhaps, beginning life anew.

Without his constant lurking through the theater, neither of them had any idea of how time was passing. So it may have been a day or 3 until Christine asked him to take her above ground. She had found a tall stool in one of the caves and had taken to carrying it around with her; she was perched on this beside him as they were humming their way through some of his compositions. He had been gladly surprised to discover that she could read music---better than text, even---her father having taught her. She stopped in mid-bar to pick at a grubby spot on her stocking, then sighed. "I've got to go back up, Erik, to get my things." He thought that he must have misheard. "To get your things?" In that pretty way she had, she tilted her head to one side. "Yes." "Not to stay?" She frowned darkly. "Why would I stay up there?" He stammered. "But---your career. And your friends. I never thought---surely you cannot mean to live down here with me!" Her eyes grew very wide, tears standing in them. "You don't want me to?" "Good God!" he said, taking her hand, wanting to shake himself. "Beloved, I assumed you would not want to stay down here." She shook her head impatiently, wiping her eyes with her free hand. "I thought you understood," she said after a moment. "I didn't choose to simply throw myself at you and then go back to the way things were. I choose you, my Angel. I want to be where you are, even if it is cold and really very damp." His heart was too full for words. He could only hold her and shower her smile with kisses, thanking Heaven with each breath.

Then came another blessing, although smaller: for a time, they could not find his mask. He had others, but that was the most comfortable---it had gotten kicked under the bed, and it felt strange and cold on his face. "My Phantom," she said, and it was another minute's work to discover the best angle for kissing around the leather.

So they crept back up the corridors, this time taking a more direct route that lacked the mirrors and candle tricks that he had set up to bewitch her. And succeeded, he thought, a little smug. It was daytime, and the theater was mostly deserted. Christine's dressing room was in disarray; clearly someone had been searching for her. There was very little from that room that she wanted, and it made a small, tidy bundle. While she went to the dormitory, he stood in the hallway outside her door, watching her figure disappear into the gloom.

It was a measure of how much he had already changed that the blow took him by surprise. One minute he had been looking at his fingertips, thinking of how she had sat atop him that morning, her surprised face, her obvious pleasure, the large bruise she had left on his neck with her little mouth. So when he was struck across the shoulder, he staggered sideways, and then the tip of Giry's cane pressed against his throat and she was spitting like a cat. "What have you done with her, you devil? As God is my witness, if you have harmed her, that is the end of it! I will bring the police and the entire theater down on you, and La Guillotine will have your ugly head!"

In the instant before he could recover, he heard Christine cry out, and then she was pulling on Giry's arm, sobbing. Next Giry was sobbing and hugging her, then Christine was hugging him, and he pulled the two crying women into the dressing room and shut the door before they did in fact bring the whole theater running. He fetched Christine's slightly larger bundle from the hallway, and when he returned the women were both calmer, sitting close together on the divan and busy with handkerchiefs.

It took some doing on Christine's part to convince Giry of her decision, even as she was clearly gratified by the woman's care. Erik wisely kept his mouth shut. He would have taken less time, simply scaring Giry into silence, but he realized later that Christine's conviction would ensure that silence lasted. Still, in the end, Giry blessed them both, charged him very sternly to take care of Christine, and told him that she would continue to run his errands as needed. Christine looked curious at that but did not ask.

At last they stepped back into the tunnels. Giry had said that the theater had been in an uproar over her disappearance, that the police had been called in, and that tickets were selling faster than ever. Christine was surprised by everyone's concern and seemed to be glad to be escaping the excitement. She had put on warmer clothes and brought her cloak. He thought she looked lovely in blue and told her so. She was even more charming when she blushed.