Thanks again to all who reviewed! I'm so glad that this has gotten a positive response so far. I've always wanted to do something with an Erik who was not disfigured, and this is what came out of it. There will likely be two more chapters after this one, and I'll try to get them up as soon as possible.

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He had actually touched her! Christine Daae had offered him her hand, and he had placed his lips against her soft, lavender-scented skin. She had looked on him with no disgust. Perhaps she had been a bit uncertain of him, but horror or pity did not once claim her eyes. A dizzying bliss overtook him, and the only thing that kept him grounded was the knowledge that this heaven lasted only until sunset. Each second continued to tick by, taunting him. Erik was determined to make the best of these precious moments, though. If these were the only seconds of happiness in his wretched life, he would take advantage of them.

Erik impatiently stood in the corridor with his arms folded across his chest, waiting for her to emerge and still not used to being unmasked and exposed above ground. On his right, two of the older ballerinas suddenly walked by, glanced at him, and let out quiet giggles. "Good day, Monsieur!" one called out cheerfully, batting her eyelashes a bit. He was very much taken aback by such reactions. In a way, it was depressingly amusing. If only they knew that they were acting flirtatiously toward the infamous Opera Ghost, would not they be surprised?

His grim thoughts completely vanished as she came out from her dressing room, and he could feel his breath catch in his throat. Christine looked purely exquisite, the epitome of perfection. She was adorned in a velvet lavender dress with white lace trimmings that gracefully outlined her curves. Her hair was elegantly pulled away from her face with a purple ribbon, and she had left just a tiny amount of her stage make-up on to highlight her features. She gave him a shy smile as she emerged, casting her large brown eyes down to the floor. "You look very lovely," he whispered as she approached him.

Christine blushed beautifully, obviously unused to such compliments. "Oh, you are too kind, Monsieur." She quietly cleared her throat. "There is a café directly down the street. It is small and not extremely fancy, but I enjoy going there often. Will that do?"

"That shall do fine," he murmured, still watching her. They walked in silence and at a fair distance, down the corridor and to the large front doors of the Opera Populaire. As Erik stepped outside into the cool autumn air, the bright sunlight immediately fell upon him. He squinted and momentarily paused, for it had been a very long time since he had come outside in broad daylight. Not since his days in Persia had he felt the rays fall upon his naked face, illuminating it for all to see. Darkness had been his only companion for quite some time.

Christine stared at him curiously as he stood there.

"Are you feeling well, Monsieur?" she asked with mild concern.

"Yes, I am fine," he replied curtly. "Let us continue." Christine nodded, and she and Erik continued to walk down the circular drive of the Opera Populaire and into the city. Many people were out that afternoon, and the cobblestone streets were rather crowded with shoppers and vendors. It gave him an extremely odd sensation to pass by people without curious upward glances or suspicious sneers. He had to take care with his expressions as well for, without his mask, they were quite visible. No doubt he had offended someone with a habitual glare or a smirk, and he did not want to draw unwanted attention to Christine.

After several minutes, she spoke again, and he immediately diverted his attention back to her sweet voice.

"You say that you are a composer, Monsieur? What music have you written?"

He cursed himself for not having planned this out better. "I compose many different pieces," he replied. "They are of various natures but likely nothing that you have heard." He paused. "I am also working on an opera at the moment."

"Oh! That surely must be exciting! What is it about?" Christine was acting more relaxed in his presence now, a friendly smile forming across her face.

"It is called Don Juan Triumphant, and it is of a complicated nature. I daresay that it will never be performed."

"Well, perhaps it will be someday," she replied reassuringly. "I am sure that it is a lovely opera." She glanced up. "Oh! Here is the café! I hope that it is not too busy today. Sometimes Meg and I cannot even find a table." He was somewhat grateful to get away from the subject of his opera, for it was certainly not a topic meant for her innocent ears. All of his terrible frustration was vented into the chords of it, and the music was far from what one would consider pleasing.

They walked up to the small stone building and entered the dimly lit café. The smell of freshly baked breads hung in the air, and the rich aroma of various coffees and teas immediately greeted them. A small crowd of people had already formed for lunch, and a quiet din filled the room as people conversed among themselves and ordered their food. No one gave the couple a second glance.

Two well-dressed young men, very near the age of Christine, stood directly in front of them, searching for an empty table. Jokingly, one gave the other a slight shove backward. The other pushed back with more aggression, causing the original perpetrator to run into Christine. "Oh!" she exclaimed as she was jolted back a bit.

The young man whirled around to apologize and was met with two angry yellow eyes. "Watch where you are going, boy!" snapped Erik, taking a dangerous step forward.

"I am sorry, Monsieur," said the boy sheepishly, shrinking back. "It was an accident."

"It is all right, Monsieur...Erik," Christine cut in, obviously surprised by his fury. "He did not hurt me." Erik cooled down, realizing that his quick temper could indeed pose a threat to his day of bliss. As her Angel of Music, he had frightened her on several occasions with a loud scolding, only to despise himself later as he watched the tears fall from her eyes. She had accepted it then as discipline from her Angel, but she would not likely accept similar behavior from a man she had just met.

They took a seat at a small round table near the front window. Truthfully, Erik was not hungry in the least, and his stomach felt as though it were clenched into a tight knot. It was his primary concern to just get as close to her and to spend as much time with her as possible. As she seemed to feel safe in the little restaurant, he had eagerly agreed to go there.

"They do have good sandwiches here," she commented, glancing up. "The soup can sometimes be cold, though. I hope you do not find the food terribly plain."

"No, I am sure that I will not," he replied, watching her as she scanned over the different options.

"How long have you been working for the Opera Populaire?" she asked, finally closing her menu and laying it upon the table. She shifted in his unyielding gaze and folded her hands into her lap.

"I have been...employed for over a decade now," he replied, not meeting her eyes. He did not tell her that by employed, he meant extorting the management every month.

"How strange that I have never seen or heard of you!"

"I am a very private man. There are very few who know of me, and I prefer to keep it that way."

"Oh, I see." Her eyes wandered to the floor, and she pursed her rosy lips. "May I ask how you took notice of me?"

He paused. "I have always noticed you, Christine. You are truly talented. Forgive me for saying so, but how could anyone not notice you?"

She blushed for the third time that day. "Monsieur. I really do not know what to say to such flattery. Surely you are able to find many women more talented than myself. I do thank you again for your kind words, though."

He said nothing in return, just continuing to watch her every delicate move. What he would not give to touch her again without frightening her away. If she acted this nervously around him as a seemingly handsome man, he shuddered to think of what she would do if she ever encountered his monstrosity. He could practically hear her shrill screams and see her mouth contort in terror as she looked upon his hideous face.

In the end, they each ordered a ham sandwich on white bread and a glass of tea. When it was placed in front of them, Christine immediately picked hers up and began to eat, nearly famished after the strenuous dress rehearsals. She looked up after several bites to see that he had not touched his. He was merely watching her as she ate. "Do you not like it?" she inquired after swallowing. "Sometimes the bread can be a bit stale. We could ask for another one."

"I am simply not hungry at the moment, Mademoiselle."

She put her sandwich down and narrowed her eyes at him. "Then why did you ask me to lunch?"

Damn! He certainly didn't need his face to scare her away!

"Forgive me, Christine. I simply wished to get to know you better and thought that you would feel secure in a public atmosphere. Please believe me when I tell you that I mean you no harm."

"Monsieur," she began, nervously. " Have...have you been watching me? You act as if you know me so well."

He almost choked. What if she were to run away? He had to fix this now or else risk completely wasting the most precious hours of his life. "I am a frequent attendee of the operas that are shown. So, yes, I have been watching you upon the stage, Christine."

"Forgive my accusation," she said with shame, running a hand through her curls. "It is rather odd, but I almost feel as if I know you from somewhere. Your voice seems familiar somehow."


Christine's thoughts were completely conflicted throughout their entire visit to the café. A part of her was deeply troubled that this stranger had taken such an interest in her. How could he care so much for her when he had never met her? Not that she wasn't pleased by the attention, but it was still rather odd to be praised so profusely by someone she did not know.

At the same time, she felt strangely close to this man. A light shown in his haunting eyes whenever he looked at her, and his enchanting voice carried a deep longing in it whenever he spoke to her. Though it did seem that he had a hidden temper, something told her that he had no intentions of bringing harm to her. She definitely felt protected around him.

Nevertheless, she soon found herself to be no longer hungry. The café was becoming more and more crowded by the minute, making it difficult for them to talk to one another. Christine got the feeling that he greatly disliked a large number of people around, and frankly she was not fond of crowds either.

"Monsieur," she began. "Perhaps I do not have much of an appetite, either. We could take a walk around the city, if you would like. Though...I must stay close to the Opera Populaire as I have afternoon rehearsals."

Christine was shocked by just how much his eyes lit up at her simple suggestion. Surely he could have gone on strolls with hundreds of woman had he wanted to. Certainly he was not lacking for looks or wealth.

"I would enjoy that very much, Christine." He addressed her by her first name often now, and she decided to allow him the freedom. She rather enjoyed the way he said it, anyway, almost as though it were a word in a beautiful song.

Side by side, they began their walk down the busy Parisian streets. She noticed that he seemed to eye each passerby with almost suspicion, as if each were a potential enemy. In the bright light, his skin appeared pale and untouched by the rays of the sun. Erik had not been lying when he had said he was a private man. Rather, it almost seemed as if he had not been in public in quite some time.

She looked in the display windows of each store at the products, mindlessly commenting on the various fashions as she often did with Meg when they went out together. He took in each word that she said as if it were the most interesting thing he had ever heard, never taking his eyes off of her for a moment and adding his own comments when it was appropriate.

"Oh look!" she exclaimed, touching his arm. "Is not that a lovely wedding gown?"

"It is indeed," he replied glancing at it. She swore that she could feel him tremble beneath her hand when she very lightly took his arm to lead him to the window. She stared at the white gown for a long moment, admiring the sparkling sequins and long lace veil.

"If I am to ever get married," she began with a smile. "I shall have a dress like that." He said nothing, and she looked up at him. There was a look of sickness on his face and a haunted look within his yellow eyes.

"Monsieur, are you ill?" she asked with concern.

"No!" he replied sharply. She drew her arm back at his rigid voice. Taking a breath, Erik softened his tone. "I am fine. Do not concern yourself with my health."

Christine sighed in confusion and began to walk forward. Within a moment, he was beside her again, and he very slightly offered her his arm. She smiled and took it without much thought, feeling him relax beneath her grasp.

A peace fell over her as she walked down the sunlit streets, arm in arm with the familiar stranger. In the back of her mind, she deeply sensed that there was more to everything than met the eye, but, for now, Christine just concentrated on the present moment.