Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera or Wicked.

Remember: Keep your hand at the level of your eyes, and nothing matters but knowing nothing matters.

Chapter I: Unlikely Meeting

Erik swept his cloak on and headed for the Rue Scribe entrance to his lair. He made his way through the darkening rain-slicked streets, remembering his hangover from two nights ago. He had sworn one thing to himself that night: He would get Christine back. Now he intended to make good on that promise. Whatever it took, he thought. Erik was concentrating so hard on his own musings that he didn't see the girl wrapped in a deep violet cloak until they were almost on top of each other. He stopped dead and she crashed right into him.

"Excuse me, mademoiselle," he said, recovering his breath. "Perhaps we must both watch where we're going next-"

But the words caught in his throat as he looked at her. Long dark hair flew wildly around her, and there were numerous tear streaks on her face. But this was overshadowed by the fact that her skin was unmistakably green.

"Yes, next time," she finished, and he realized she was looking at him with the same astonishment he must be regarding her with. She seemed to realize why he was staring and pulled the hood of her cloak up to obscure her face.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. She hurried around him down the street, but he called out.

"Wait!"

She turned slowly, and he sensed humiliation. "Yes, sir?"

"Why-"

Before he could get the question out, she marched up to him and threw back her hood. "You want to know why I'm green, is that it?"

He could only gape at her.

Elphie took this as a yes and continued indignantly, "Well, your guess is as good as mine, alright, I was born this way. I might ask why you wear that intriguing mask, though."

Erik mentally shook himself. "I… That wasn't… I just-"

"Would you remove it?" she interrupted. "What happened to you?"

Erik had only ever removed his mask for Christine, and she had recoiled into a corner. But he somehow sensed that this girl was quite the opposite. After all, she was green.

He felt his right hand reaching inexplicably for the fine white leather, and could only watch her expression as it fell away.

Elphaba glanced from the left, perfect side of the man's face, to the right: it was almost like two people in one, he was so horribly deformed. His cheek was sucked in and puckered, half his nose mangled and tugged back into the flesh, and his lower eyelid hung down to reveal the redness inside.

The shameful anticipation in his eyes made her take the hand that held his mask and raise it back to his face. He replaced the mask, and she pulled her hood up against the wind.

Erik spoke for the first time since the mask had left his features. "I was born this way, too."

She wiped the still-stinging tears from her cheeks and held out a hand. "I'm sorry, I've completely forgotten… My name's Elphaba."

He shook it. "Erik."

"What were you going to ask? You didn't ask me about being green, it was something else. That was very rude, I apologize."

"I was going to ask why you were crying."

"Oh…" she hesitated. "Well… I don't feel very comfortable discussing my life out here in the middle of the street-"

A drop of rain fell on her uncovered hand, and she jerked suddenly, wiping it off with her sleeve.

"Please, can we get inside somewhere? I'll tell you, but we have to go in before it rains again."

Erik thought her reaction to the rain slightly odd, but he didn't want to be caught in a storm either. "Follow me."

He led her down the Rue de Rivoli, to another side entrance of the opera house.

Elphie really didn't know where she was in the world anyway, so the opera seemed perfect to her. Until Erik started to lead her down.

"What is this place, that there are no towers?"

"It is an old theatre facility," he replied. "I live in the cellars."

She gave him a skeptical look in the half-light.

"It is well-furnished, I assure you." He beckoned her follow him and proceeded into the darkness.