Enjoy!

partie quatre

Erik received a beating for leaving the priest's house without permission, and then was sent to his room without supper. His bedroom was not an actual room, but was instead the attic of the house. This wasn't for a lack of rooms in the house for Erik to occupy - it was only because if he was in the attic, it was easier for Madeleine to forget he existed.

He wished he could do what she wanted him to do: disappear. Wither away from life. He didn't see the point in anything anymore. And nothing made him feel better. Not books. Not puzzles. Not even music. It was as though the world had gone completely gray. All color had been left behind at the house of Father Mansart and Christine Daaé.

Erik changed somberly into his nightclothes, numb to his very core. He extinguished the lamp and climbed into bed. The emptiness with him widened into a black abyss. That terrible lump formed in his throat again, and he tried to clear it away - but all it did was bring tears to his eyes. He grimaced and buried his bare face into his pillow.

He breathed in.

Out.

In.

And slowly, his body relaxed. Somehow, despite it all, he found a way to relax - and hopefully start to find sleep.

He heard the sounds of the house settling. The clock ticking where it stood on his dresser. A branch hitting his window.

Erik opened his eyes.

There were no trees outside the attic window.

He looked up, and at first, saw only a black star-dotted sky and moonlight through the glass.

Then, a flash of something small, dark, and hard hit the window, causing that same smacking sound.

Erik blinked and rose slowly from the bed. He approached the window and looked out - and there, down below, he was astonished to make out the form of Christine in the silver light.

He scrambled to open the window. She saw and waved emphatically. "Erik!"

His mind caught up to him, and he remembered in horror that he didn't currently wear his mask - he left from the window and grabbed it from his nightstand.

"No!" she called. "Come back!"

Erik rushed back to the window. "Hush!" he hissed, just loud enough for her to hear. He touched his face, making sure that the mask was securely in place. "My mother will hear you!"

Madeleine slept on the other side of the house - and was a heavy sleeper - but he would take no chances. His behind was still sore several hours later.

Christine lowered her hand. "Then come down." She said it much softer, almost inaudibly.

Erik gripped the windowsill, knuckles whitening. Didn't...didn't she hate him? Hadn't she screamed when she saw his face?

When he remained silent and motionless, Christine took another step forward, gazing up at him. "Please?"

The beseeching tone pulled at his heartstrings, and he nodded. "Stay there."

He closed the window and went to his bedroom door - only to turn around and prop up his blankets, books, and pillows to appear like he was asleep in his bed. He doubted his mother would check, but...again, no chances.

He made his way through the dark house, creeping down stairways and avoiding the creakiest floorboards. The front door was no issue; he was tall enough to reach the chain lock, and had been since he was around five years old.

He walked around the side of the house and found her in her nightgown - which he hadn't noticed from up high - leaning against the wood paneling. She saw him approach and stood straight.

"Erik," she whispered, "I was worried you would change your mind before you came down?"

He frowned, utterly confused. "Why are you here?"

Christine looked at him a moment, then dropped her gaze to the ground. "I was worried you don't want to be my friend anymore." She sniffed, then sighed. "I couldn't sleep."

Erik stared at her. "You screamed at me. In the woods. You promised, then you opened your eyes and screamed at me."

She flinched and nodded. "I know. I'm sorry."

"You told me you wouldn't open your eyes."

"And I didn't mean to open them." She slid her gaze to his, blue eyes glistening in the moonlight. "It was just that sound in the woods. And screaming - I'm sorry, Erik. I really am. Screaming was a mistake. It was only...I was so very surprised. I wasn't expecting..." She paused. "I wasn't expecting you to look like that."

Erik felt his stomach drop. He looked away.

"But it wasn't so bad! Just...different, is all. Honest. I'm not afraid...and I don't hate you or think you are ugly-"

"You don't think I'm ugly?" He practically choked on the words, feeling his eyes widen.

Christine shook her head vigorously. "Papa always told me that beauty is measured by a person's heart, and that a pretty face is only an accessory. Nice if it's there but not necessary." She smiled widely, proud of those recited words.

Erik could not help but smile in return - nor could he help the words that tumbled out of his mouth. "You have both."

"Oh." She let out a soft, breathy giggle, and the sound kept him from any embarrassment over that small confession. "Thank you." Another pause. "I'm sorry I screamed, Erik. But I really like you, and I hate to think I hurt you - and I just had to come see you."

"Does Father Mansart know you're here?"

"No." Then, lowly, conspiratorially, "I sneaked out."

Another giggle, and Erik giggled too. Color had returned to his soul, and he felt light again. "It's all right. I know you didn't mean to. I'm...really glad you came here."

"Truly?"

"Truly."

"Can we be friends again."

Erik's smile wouldn't leave. "Yes. Of course."

She reached for his hand. "Forever?"

Warmth flooded him. He squeezed her fingers, and she returned the gesture. "Forever, Christine."