Chapter 15

(A/N: Just a warning, Erik and Christine are out of character, more so than usual.)

I collected myself and stopped sobbing into Christine. I slipped out of her grasp, and sniffled with my arm stretched out to her. "Erik, are you alright?" I nodded, "Yes, I'm fine." She smiled lightly, grabbing my hand to pull herself up. When she stood, I stared at her for a moment and she back at me. I took a stray curl from her forehead and tucked it behind her ear and began slowly, "Now, Christine, tell me what has been bothering you." I kept my hand on her cheek, stroking it gently. She giggled softly, "Bothering me? Nothing."

Though she was able to crack a smile, the look in her eyes showed me the opposite to what she had said. They looked pained; "Christine..." I groaned.

Christine frowned and surrendered, "Okay, I cannot lie to you, Erik," She said, "I suppose there is something wrong, but..."

"'But'?"

She hesitated. "Erik, I don't--"

I put a finger over her lips and she stopped speaking. "Okay, okay, I know what the problem is. I apologise for prying; but I didn't think that that time would have affected you so. Don't worry, I am not angry at you for getting so upset, but I am disappointed that you will not be singing."

"Erik--" She said, behind my finger.

"Christine, it's your choice. Do as you please."

Christine glanced down at the floor. She looked as though she were deep in thought; after a while, she turned back up to me and said, "Okay then. I know what I want to do."

"What is it?"

She clenched my hand and then pointed at the mirror, "Come," She pulled me towards it and slid it open. She led me down the trail to the underground lake.

We hit the shore and I hopped out, taking her by the hand and helping her out of the boat. I smiled at her warmly, "I'm glad that you decided that you were going to sing." She grabbed my sleeve and glanced up at me with big, round eyes of brown. "Actually, Erik, I'm quite tired. Would it be alright if I had a singing lesson in the morning?" I nodded and answered, cheerfully, "Of course! You need to rest well if you want to sing well," She agreed and I put my hand on her shoulder and led her to the bedroom.

I walked her over to the large bed. She sat down at its side and I granted her a "good night, Christine." I whirled around to start out of the door, but she took me by the wrist, "Erik, can you stay here for a moment?"

I nodded, "As you wish. What would you like?"

She yanked her night gown from her shoulders and then pulled it off. It slipped to the floor, revealing her underclothes. I stared at her, blankly, "Christine..." I murmured. "I thought that it was rather childish of me to overreact that way. I shouldn't have made you worry so," She responded as she removed all that covered her. "Christine, what are you up to?" I asked calmly, "You should get some rest." She gave me a strange look. "Come, Erik," She was smiling gently yet seductively; I've never seen such such a look from her. I was speechless. When I found my voice, I coughed and turned on my heel towards the door, "I advise you take your clothes from my floor, put them on and rest up until morning."

She heaved a sigh that sounded somewhat disappointed. I turned back at her, fighting to keep my eyes on hers, but I failed. "Christine, you have priorities..."

"Nothing is more important than you, Erik!" She pleaded, sitting at the edge of the bed, holding the blanket up, covering herself. My eyes slowly moved from her bare skin to her eyes hers and I finally realised what she had said. It took a moment to sink in.

I stared into her eyes for a moment and then I laughed lightly. "Now is not that time. Good night, Christine. Sleep well," She smiled back at me and granted me a good night as well.

I kept Christine with me for a while to coach her and I did notice that people around the Opera House were getting worried. The managers were in the worst health of all. They decided to delay the showing of Hannibal (but of course, they didn't tell the customers that yet) and when I heard this, I rushed over to Christine that day. I told her of what I had heard and brought her back to the Opera. Christine made a triumphant return the day before Hannibal was to be shown. The customers cried tears of joy and as I watched from the shadows, I felt that I would as well, but I feared that I would start sobbing and I would be found out.

The night of Hannibal, I watched Christine from Box Five. As I watched her and listened to her voice, my heart danced happily. She must have sensed my happiness as she eyed Box Five for a second, her smile widening. A wiped a tear away as it began to run down my cheek.

Christine returned to her dressing room after the performance, where I left her a red rose tied with a black ribbon among the other flowers she received. I watched from behind the mirror as Madame Giry presented Christine the rose. Christine thanked her enthusiastically and Madame Giry congratulated Christine herself then walked out. From behind the mirror, I saw as Christine stared down at the rose I had given her. Tears rolled down her cheeks and I heard myself gasp. She must have heard as well. She wiped her eyes dry and called, "Erik?" I emerged from behind the mirror, "Don't try to hide your tears from me, Christine. Why were you crying?"

"Oh, I am not upset or anything!" She began to laugh. Quiet at first, then as she got louder, her eyes began to drown in tears. "I am just so glad that you were able to come and see me sing! Don't you see? I am shedding tears of joy!"

I wiped her eyes with my thumb, smiling. "Of course. And I wouldn't have missed your performance for the world... you were wonderful."

"Yes, I was, wasn't I? Thank you, Erik," Her words faded into a whisper as she stood on her toes to touch her lips to mine. She pulled away slowly and chuckled. She seemed so full of energy and joy. "So, I knew that you usually watch the operas from Box Five," She told me with such excitement.

"I do."

"I smiled at you, did you see?"

"I did."

She gave me alarge grin and giggled, wrapping her arms around me. She rubbed her cheek against my chest. The top of her head brushed against my chin, tickling it with her hair. I put my arms around her and raked my fingers through her curls. I invited her to my lair through a whisper, "Come, let us get more comfortable in my lair."

"Home," She corrected. "Lair doesn't seem very appropriate... you're not an animal."

"Of course not," I responded, sarcasm in my voice. Christine frowned but did not question me, as I took her by the hand and led her to my "home".

She sat on the bed of her bedroom as I stood, towering above her. "Now, Erik," She started. "Why were you so sarcastic earlier? Why so bitter?" She asked. I ran a hand through my smooth black hair, "Well, Christine, it is difficult for me to say."

"Erik, just tell me the truth."

"Truth about what? Why I was so sarcastic when you said I was not an animal?"

She nodded and I growled, "You would not understand."

She stood and put her hands on my chest and stared into my golden eyes, and I avoided her accusing brown eyes. "Erik, please..." She begged. I sighed and began the tale of my childhood, "Well, I suppose you could say that I was treated like less than an animal. Even animals have loved ones."

I told her about my mother and about how she never gave me anything I asked for. Not a thing, except for my mask. The mask that hid my grotesque, ill-formed face that Mother so cowered from. She never even gave me a name...

I was never the type of person to ask for so much, but there were things that I did want. Love, for example. My mother never showed me any of that. I told her the time I ran away from my mother to live on my own at nine years old, when I went to Persia, was in a gypsy circus as the main freak show attraction, then ended up trapped in the Opera House that I now called my home. As I told my story, I had sadness and anger in my voice. Christine was sniffling and she began to cry as I told it and as she heard my voice with no hint of happiness in it.

At the end, I felt that I was going to cry, as well, but I knew if I cried, Christine would lament more so than she was now. I was sitting by her on the bed and she wrapped her arms around me and sobbed into my chest. "Oh, Erik, you have suffered so greatly! How could a God who is all good torture you so? Not even the devil himself must have gone through such torment!"

I nodded and quietly picked myself up off the bed, saying, "I apologise for making you so upset."

"It's fine, Erik."

"Well, we should celebrate your triumph this evening..."

She frowned. She must have heard that I was very unenthusiastic so she said, "I am actually quite tired. You must be too. Perhaps we should just go to sleep?"

I nodded. "If that is what you want, then." I whirled around to walk out the door, but before I took a step she stopped me. "Erik, come share this bed with me. It must be uncomfortable sleeping in that coffin." She smiled. Accusingly, I grumbled, "Christine..."

She laughed, "I'll keep my clothes on."

An awkward silence followed her comment and I broke it by muttering, "Okay."

I removed my cape and dropped it onto the floor, left my shoes by the bed and climbed into the bed next to Christine. "Are you positively sure that we should-"

"I'm sure."

"Are you sure?"

Christine sighed and I turned away from her, my cheeks a slight pink color. I shut my eyes and Christine said, "Just a moment, Erik," I opened my eyes and looked at her. She put a hand on my mask and gently pulled it off and set it aside. She whispered, "That's better," and wrapped her arms around me until we both drifted to sleep.