Greetings

The next day passed uneventfully for Erik. He kept a silent vigil outside of Mercedes' room, pacing back and forth now and then, busying himself with random chores to occupy his time. He was sitting down at his pipe organ when he heard the Mercedes' voice screaming barely coherent words. One that he did understand, however, was fire.

Running into the room where she slept, he saw her tossing and turning, obviously having a horrible nightmare. Rushing to where she slept fitfully, he shook her shoulders gently, willing her to wake up. He noticed that she was no longer feverish and appeared to be healthy. Her eyes snapped open. Apparently she could not see him clearly at first, but as sleep slowly left her eyes, they became more focused. Those large, grey eyes rested immediately on his own eyes.

"Where am I, and who are you?" she asked him. He noticed that her curious eyes rested on his mask, then went back to hold his gaze.

"You tried to swim out here, for some apparent reason. You are under the opera house." He purposefully refrained from telling her his name. She seemed to notice that he was uncomfortable telling her his name. She tried to sit up, but found it difficult to move as she was covered with several heavy blankets. Amused, she began trying to remove the blankets, noticing that as she did so Erik turned his back on her and started towards the door.

"Why are you leaving?" she questioned him.

Although he didn't turn around, he replied to her question by saying, "Er, well…um, when you, uh, came here, you were very, um, wet and I was afraid that you would, um, catch pneumonia. I had to, uh, well… remove your, um, wet clothing." Although she could not see his face, she knew that his cheeks were a bright red, and she suddenly started laughing.

"I'm sorry if I have caused you any discomfort. Thank you for taking care of me." she said to him, still chuckling with the humor of the situation. "Where did you put my nightgown, Erik?" she asked. Erik spun around, clearly startled that she knew his name.

Still blushing furiously, he replied, "It is hanging up on the back of the chair over there." He rushed out of the room before he became even more embarrassed. Still giggling softly, she donned her white nightgown and walked out of the room. She heard him playing the violin before she actually saw him. Walking out of her room, she found herself in a messy music room, cluttered with too much expensive furniture to fit tastefully in the small room. Dominating the tiny room was a large, ornately carved pipe organ.

Mercedes saw that Erik was standing near the organ, and quietly walked over to stand near where he was playing. He seemed quite oblivious to the fact that he was not alone, and was entirely immersed in his music. When the music ended, he jumped at the sound of applause, and spun around to see Mercedes standing only a few feet away from him.

"I am sorry that I did not announce my presence, but I did not wish to interrupt you." she said, a twinkle of amusement in her eye. He had to give her one thing- she did tend to find humor in the most unexpected places. "I don't think that we have properly met yet. My name is Mercedes Gautier." She held out a strong hand and firmly grasped his in a hand shake.

Erik sat down, unsure of what to make to this charismatic and strange woman. There was obviously more to her than met the eye. She still stood in from of him, slightly puzzled that he seemed so reluctant to talk. God, she was beautiful, he mused. The candlelight flickered on her cream white skin and pale nightgown. He could now see the reason why she seemed so unlike any woman of higher station he had ever met before.

While most noblewomen were delicate and soft, Mercedes had lean, lithe muscles covering her entire body. She was so much stronger, so much more powerful than Christine… Christine! Why was he comparing this stranger to his beloved? The stranger still standing in front of him was just that- a stranger. His mind was dead-set on that reality. And yet his fickle heart, that very loathsome part of him that wanted to give up Christine, told him that he and this stranger had far more in common than they could even imagine.

He was brought back to his senses when he heard Mercedes singing a lullaby. The very same one that he had sung the previous night. He glanced up at her, and saw that she was standing a little further away from him, her back turned to him. He could feel tears coming to his eyes, and he was powerless to stop them. Her voice was so sad, so beautiful. What surprised him, however, was that she did not cry. Obviously she was overwrought with emotions, predominantly sadness, and yet she did not cry. Her entire body was racked with sobs of grief and anguish, but no tears spilled out of her exquisite grey eyes.

Timidly, he approached her. Her song had finally finished, and he was both relieved and sorrowful that it had ended. Awkwardly, he placed a large hand on her shoulder, only to have her spin around and throw herself into his arms. He just stood there, dumbly, as she sobbed dry tears into his shoulder.

As if remembering where she was and who she was leaning on, she quickly drew away, mumbling apologies. "I'm terribly sorry, Erik. I was just remembering…" she never got to finish her sentence before another wave of sadness swept over her body, her face distorted into something so beautiful, so sad, so fearful that it was hardly human.

When her weeping finally ceased, she was immediately embarrassed by her awful display of her pain. She had just acted feeble minded and weak in front of a complete stranger! She mad no attempt to explain herself, however, and Erik did not press her for information. Her expression quickly changed from one of grief to one of thoughtfulness. He was surprised that she was capable of thinking clearly after such a horrible emotional breakdown.

She sat upright and asked him bluntly, "Why do you wear a mask?" He instinctively tensed as he drew away from her, trying to hide his face from her. He did not hear her get up and walk towards him until she stood directly in front of him. "I will not pressure you for an answer, but I would just like you to know that my best friend throughout childhood was born with a disease called Hemangiomas. I was never repulsed by him, and I doubt that I would be shocked by your condition." He was shocked that she would talk to him so frankly, as if he was only a vain peacock strutting around in his mansion!

He was about to loose his temper when he stopped. Had he heard her correctly? She had had a friend that was deformed? A beauty like her had been friends with a beast like he? "What did this friend of yours look like?" he asked, his curiosity overcoming his anger and wariness.

"He looked like any other normal boy, except the left side of his face had a nasty growth of blood vessels underneath the skin. Those spots of pooling blood were raised and a redder color than the rest of his skin. He was perfectly normal other than that. His disease went away when he got older, and he was lucky. My father was a doctor, and he said that people born with Hemangiomas don't always have their deformation leave them, and they are stuck with them for life." She replied to his question. She sensed that Erik had wanted the full description of her friend's ailment, and she could guess why.

"And this boy, how old is he? Could I meet him any time soon?" He was genuinely excited. She had just described a facial distortion almost identical to the one he had.

He saw her eyes go bright with unshed tears as she replied, "He is dead."