A/N: Wow, now you guys are giving me cookies! And yes, reviewing does get you more chapters, that's the way I like to do things. OK then, one fresh chapter of "Masque" served, and I just put a fresh batch of Phantom cookies in the oven!

Disclaimer: I don't own "Ici Bas", that would belong to the late Gabriel Fauré

Out of the Darkness

It was a long night for both of them. Erik had to be awake to wake up Aminta every hour, and she couldn't sleep well in between times anyway. Her dreams were haunted and strange, filled with demons who laughed at her because they tricked her into thinking she could see again, truly see, and then abruptly pulling away the illusion, leaving her crying at their wicked deception. More often than not, she woke up before Erik went to wake her. And every time, it seemed that those swirls of colour she swore she had seen before reappeared. By and by, they began to stay in her "vision", if that's what you could call it, until she admitted to herself that they really were there, and she wasn't just imagining them. Once she had, they began to take rough shapes, smoky outlines of the objects around her. These began to sharpen slowly. Every time she woke up again, they were just a little sharper, just a little easier to discern. And she finally dared to hope that he dearest wish was finally coming true.

Her sight was returning.

She didn't want to think of it at first, for fear that reality would be that she was only imagining it because of the fall and she would lose her mind if that happened. But it was true. When she opened her eyes and could see things almost clearly, as though looking through a film over her eyes, she allowed herself to believe that she was seeing, really seeing for the first time in ten years. And the longer she closed her eyes, the better she could see when she opened them again. She wanted to dance and shout for joy, but then a thought came to her. She knew she should tell Erik, but she also knew that if she did he would act differently around her. He might not even want her around anymore. She resolved to pretend that she still couldn't see, just for a while. She would tell him eventually, but she had to do something first.

She had to see him, as he really was.

The thought made her feel guilty, like she was stealing something that she had been entrusted to protect, but she had to, just once, and then she'd tell him she could see again and he'd never have to know. It seemed that her head hurt even more in retribution for what she was planning, but she ignored it. At least six hours had passed; Erik had woken her six times. She had woken innumerable times in between, but he had never been there when she had. Sometimes she heard him playing his organ very softly, or moving around in a room further back in the lair, but never once did he pass through her room when she was awake unless he was waking her. Feeling how exhausted she was, she wondered how tired he must feel, and another stab of guilt struck her.

'But this wasn't my fault…was it? What happened anyway?' she wondered. Well, she supposed it didn't really matter. Her head hurt too much to think about it. Eventually it seemed to stop hurting, but she found she was sorely mistaken in thinking this when she tried to sit upright. Pain exploded in her head, making her fall back with a small groan.

"OK, sitting up's out of the question right now,' she thought. She contented herself with looking around at what she could see from where she lay. This time there was no veil around the bed, so she could see better. The bed was huge, much bigger than she had thought, and shaped like a swan. Since the sides were a little high from her perspective she couldn't see much around her that wasn't taller than the bed. She lay there for a while, contemplating, then dared to try and sit up again, this time very, painstakingly slowly. Her head throbbed a little, but it was endurable. Once again she looked all around. She saw the small desk nearby, a wardrobe against one wall, a nightstand next to the bed, the music box that her mother told her about. And then she realized that she might not have to feel so guilty about her desire to see Erik unmasked.

He was asleep in a chair nearby.

She managed to choke back a gasp when she saw him. She didn't know what she had expected to see, really, so she didn't know why she was so surprised. She stared at him in a terribly impolite way, but she couldn't tear her eyes away. At length, she shook herself slightly and silently scolded herself for her disgusting display of what she didn't want to call fear. It wasn't fear, and it wasn't disgust, it was surprise, that was all. But now that she had collected herself, she realized there was no reason to stare in such a vulgar manner. Her eyes softened as she gazed at him, taking in carefully what she saw: the twisted, puckered flesh, the slightly sagging eye, the thinnish light-coloured hair. But there was also his high cheekbones, strong clefted chin, and the subtle hint of a smile that played about his lips. He didn't really look like the Opera Ghost was described as either, dressed all in black like a living shadow, but rather as a man would in his private study, comfortably dressed in black leggings and shoes and a loose, ruffled white shirt, partially opened in the front revealing his muscular chest which Aminta tried not to look at. Overall, she didn't she why the silly chorus girls told her he was a living corpse, a skeleton with a death's head. Some even said he had interchangeable heads! Laughable. He really was very attractive, once you got used to his…she hesitated to say "deformity" because it made it sound so much worse than it truly was. She smiled at him and lay back down again, because the throbbing in her head had increased to a noticeable pain. She closed her eyes again and, still smiling, fell asleep again.

When she woke again, it was of her own volition and Erik was nowhere to be seen. She found herself somewhat saddened by this, missing him. Well, he'd be back sooner or later. In the meantime, her head wasn't hurting as much, and she soon found herself able to sit upright without the least inconvenience. She longed to get up and explore, but she couldn't risk Erik coming back and finding her, and it would be somehow dishonest, wandering around his domain without his permission. She didn't want to accidentally wander somewhere she didn't belong. So she waited patiently, winding up the music box a few times, telling herself stories to amuse herself. After a while, she became aware of something pressing into her leg. Curious, she reached into her pants pocket and pulled out one of her most prized possessions: a Christmas tree ornament shaped like a mask, a gift from her mother last Christmas. She had never seen it before, though Christine had described it to her and she had formed a picture of it in her mind after holding it for a while. But it was different than actually seeing. She smiled and found herself automatically turning it over and over in her hands, running her fingers all over it as she did-as she had­-when she was blind. It was a beautiful ornament: a ceramic, or maybe porcelain mask painted gold with a shimmery crimson ruffle around the outside edge except along the bottom, gold wire entwined with a crimson cord around the entire edge, a butterfly made of gold beads on the right side, a rose made of gold ribbon on the left, with two crimson feathers dangling from it, and decorative squiggles of glittery gold paint around the eyeholes. Still smiling, she closed her eyes and sang softly to herself:

Ici bas

Tous les lilas meurent,

Tous les chants des oiseaux sont courts,

Je rêve aux étés qui demeurent toujours!

Ici bas

Les lèvres effleurent

Sans rien laisser de leur velours,

Je rêve aux baisers qui demeurent toujours!

Ici bas,

Tous les hommes pleurent

Leurs amitiés ou leurs amours;

Je rêve aux couples qui demeurent

Aux couples qui demeurent

Qui demeurent toujours!

(Translation-not literal)

Here below

Lilacs die,

And never is bird song more than short refrain

I dream of summer days

That forever remain!

Here below

Where lips lightly sever

And leave no trace of beauty's reign

I dream of kisses fond

That forever remain!

Here below

Men in vain endeavor

Weep for their love's or friendship's pain

I dream of lovers who forever

Of lovers who forever

Who forever remain!

She had never much cared for her voice, seeing as how it couldn't compare with her mother's but somehow it didn't matter here. As her soft, breathy voice faded away into the stone, she just sat, her eyes still closed, just holding her mask ornament and smiling.

"What's that?"

She looked up in surprise, only just remembering not to look directly at Erik but more through him, in a way. "It's a present from my mother. Every year she gets me a new Christmas ornament. This was last year's."

"It's very pretty," said Erik. "May I see it?"

"Certainly," replied Aminta, holding it out vaguely in his general direction. He took it from her carefully and she relinquished it once she was sure he had a good grip on it. While he was looking at it, she looked at him again. He now wore his mask again, and his hair was jet black (a wig, undoubtedly). He looked a bit more like the fearsome Phantom now, but she couldn't bring herself to think of him that way. She didn't want to. In fact, he actually looked quite handsome. She dared risk a look at his eyes, and saw, to her great surprise, that they looked just like hers…at least, what she remembered hers looking like. She wondered what she looked like now. The last time she had seen herself she had been a small, chubby-cheeked six-year-old with short, bobbed brown hair, a rosy complexion, sapphire eyes, and no figure to speak of. She knew her hair was much longer now; she hadn't allowed anyone to cut it and it now spilled over her shoulders and down to the small of her back. It was darker than she remembered too. Seeing that Erik was finished looking at her little treasure, she averted her gaze and stared off into space.

"It's beautiful," he said, touching the back of her hand with it lightly. She felt around for it and took it back.

"It's one of my favourites," she said. "This and a frosted-glass rose. That one I've had for a while; I know what it looks like. Mother described this one to me well, so I think I have a good idea of what it looks like." She saw Erik smiling out of the corner of her eye.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Less like I've been smashed in the head by a sledgehammer," she replied with a smile.

"That's always a good thing," laughed Erik. "You're probably hungry too."

For the first time, Aminta realized she was. "Yes, a little." She pushed herself up, trying to remember not to act like she could see. Erik helped her climb out of the bed and stand up. "What time is it?"

"Rather late in the day," replied Erik. "Almost five. I just went to Christine's dressing-room to find a nice dress for you to wear this evening. But first, dinner." So saying, he led her into another room and guided her to a chair at a small table. "I'll be right back." And he turned and started towards an adjoining room. Aminta watched him go, and noticed a loose stone slightly raised above the others just before him.

"Watch your step!" she said without thinking. Erik paused and looked down.

"Oh, thank-" he began, then stopped and turned slowly to face her. "Aminta?"

She couldn't look at him. "Yes?"

"Can you…can you see?"

Aminta couldn't answer. "I...I, uh..."

Erik didn't wait for her to find her tongue, but took her arm and pulled her somewhat roughly to a nearby candelabrum. Aminta had to shut her eyes against the bright light, giving Erik all the answer he needed.

"You can see," he said slowly. "How?"

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "It just happened after I fell. You're hurting my arm."

"I'm sorry," he said, somewhat distantly, as he released her. "Why didn't you tell me? Wait, you didn't see…"

"Yes," she said softly. Erik just stared at her with a betrayed look. "I had to know. I had to see for myself."

"Was it what you wanted to see?" demanded Erik, and she knew he was upset.

"Yes," she replied indifferently. Seeing his surprise, she added, "Erik, I don't care what you look like! I don't let that change the way I think of you."

"And what do you think I am?" he asked a little coldly. Aminta looked at him in mild surprise.

"A man," she answered. "A sad, lonely man who just want acceptance in the world." After a thoughtful pause, she added, "I think you are my friend." Erik hadn't expected this and stepped back in wonder, just staring at her. She looked back at him and sighed sadly, dropping her gaze to the floor. "I was afraid of that. I'll go if you want me to."

"No," said Erik. "I want you to stay." Aminta looked up, tears in her eyes.

"Erik, I'm sorry I-"

"It's all right. I forgive you." For a moment Aminta thought he was going to hug her, but he only squeezed her shoulder gently, smiling at her. She returned the smile. "Now, let's have dinner."