A/N: I don't think my last chapter was my best... I'll try to do better with this one. Thanks again for the reviews!

Chapter 6

Erik stood behind Christine, his hands tracing over her neck, but otherwise frozen in position.

Last night he had believed he would be the happiest man in the city – no, the world – if Christine chose him over the Vicomte.

She had! But somehow the fact frightened him, made his hands hesitant and his mind panicky.

He had always been bold when in familiar territory – the Opera House had been his domain. But now in this unfamiliar little cave, he felt his keen mind and sharp nerves begin to frazzle with doubt and uncertainty. Those feelings had always been accompanied by anger before, but easily quashed behind the louder and stronger emotion.

What was he supposed to do now? Before, he enchanted and bespelled her with his voice. Would she still feel the same way without the spell of his song?

He snatched his hands away suddenly, and Christine turned, startled. His face was frozen in a mask of concentration(A/N: no pun intended)and suddenly he spun around, kneeling quickly and extinguishing the candles with his fingertips.

He stood up and seized her arm, dragging her to him and flinging her against the far corner. She let out a cry but he covered her mouth with his hand, pressing her into the wall with his body.

She struggled for a moment, completely confused and frightened by his sudden violent actions, when she suddenly heard distant voices.

"How the hell are we supposed to search all this?" a rough man's voice bemoaned. "We won't even find our own way out, let alone find some bloody ghost!"

Shuffling footsteps echoed off the stony walls. "I doubt the bugger's even here anymore," another man's voice agreed, "I know I'd leave this miserable place damn soon as I got the chance."

A faint glow of lantern light bloomed at the entrance to the cave – Erik and Christine both tensed, holding their breaths as if a single gasp of air would reveal them.

The footsteps grew louder, closer, echoing ominously in the outside passage. Christine felt as if she would choke – her heart thudded frantically like it was trying to burst out through her throat. Frissions of fear scratched along her spine and she shivered, shutting her eyes tightly.

The lantern light bleeding in from the outside passage grew brighter, and Erik pressed her to him tighter. Despite his unmoving exterior, his heart was racing so fast and so frantically it was almost as if there were no space between each thud.

"Yes, bugger must've ran," the voice repeated. Suddenly there was a scrabble of rocks and the same voice cried out in pain.

"What is it?" the other man replied anxiously.

"I fell, cut my hand on the damn rocks," the first voice growled in frustration.

There was a shuffle of feet, and the second voice said, "You're bleedin' pretty bad. I'd get fixed up soon if I were you – lets go, I'm gettin' spooked down here anyway."

The first voice moaned a complaint, and the footsteps retreated, taking the revealing glow of the lantern with them.

The pair in the black cave remained unmoving for several minutes. Christine hardly dared to move – her muscles felt weak, and she swayed to the side slightly. Erik's hands caught her about the waist and steadied her.

He pulled away from her, and a moment later the candles were relit, and Erik began shoving things hurriedly into two traveling bags that had been stored in one of the crates.

"We must leave, now," he said without looking up. "I wished to wait until night, but obviously it's just not safe here anymore…" He laughed under his breath, mockingly and a little sadly. "But then again, was it ever?"

He stood up and retrieved his cloak from the opposite side of the room where Christine had slept with it. He swirled it around his shoulders like the wings of a bat and fastened it. He strode back and retrieved a smaller, hooded cloak from the pile of supplies.

"Pull up the hood," he said, handing it to her. "It will help disguise you."

The fabric was soft and thick and it settled round her body like a comforting blanket.

"Erik," she said as he knelt on the ground, gathering up the last of the results of his excursion. "Where… how did you get all this?"

He paused in the packing. "What?"

"Did you… steal it?"

His eyes turned flinty, and even though she stood tall above him as he kneeled, she felt as if she were cringing beneath his hard stare.

"If it suits you, you could just gallivant around in that wedding gown," he replied in mock calm, with derision laced through his words. "And barefooted too!" he tossed her a pair of shoes as he said it, and she fumbled as she caught one awkwardly, the other clattering to the floor.

He was right. She bit her lip, feeling a little foolish, and sank to the ground, pulling the black boots onto her feet and lacing them up. They were slightly too big, but she was grateful nonetheless.

"Thank you, Erik…"

He didn't reply, but his face softened as he fastened the buckles on the two bags and rose to his feet. His expression was weary, and he glanced around despondently, but his mouth was set in a firm line of resolve.

Standing there, with a traveling bag in each hand and in his gentleman's clothes, he looked for all the world like any ordinary man ready to set off on any ordinary journey. Except for the mask, of course. The mask… she couldn't even remember him putting it on this morning. Was she growing that used to it – and him?

She got to her feet, brushing the dust off her dress and meeting his eye apprehensively. "I… I'm ready."