When did those lights get so damn bright?

Erik winced at the assault on his eyes. His head felt like it was made of concrete. Concrete that was being cracked from the inside out. Someone walked by him and the sound of their shoes on the tile was like a knife to his skull.

"Erik!" Nadir's voice called from down the hall.

He turned slowly, still wincing. Nadir stopped short as he approached, looking Erik up and down skeptically.

"You look like hell."

"Thanks."

Erik was well aware his shirt was wrinkled, his eyes dark, and his normally slicked hair just barely combed. He was also aware he lacked the energy to correct any of it.

"What happened to you?" Nadir pressed, drawing closer to inspect his friend.

"Nothing."

"Are you sick?"

"No."

Nadir narrowed his eyes. He tilted his head and stared Erik straight in the face. Then his eyebrows went up in realization.

"Are you hungover?"

Silence.

Nadir gave a sharp, incredulous laugh. "Why on earth would you get drunk at home on a Tuesday night?"

Erik just groaned in response. When he offered no explanation, Nadir's expression slowly changed from amusement to concern.

"This isn't like you Erik…are you alright?"

"Yes," He growled.

"No you're not. What's going on?"

Erik's lip began to curl in a snarl. He was not in the mood for questions, and he planned to inform Nadir of this in the most cutting way possible. Nadir was only saved from his impending lash by Christine's cheery interruption.

"Good morning gentleman!"

Nadir smiled at her. Erik closed his eyes and sighed. There was no way that was her same voice from yesterday. This one was far too similar to screeching car tires.

It took Christine the same amount of time as Nadir to notice the difference in Erik's demeanor.

"Erik, are you sick? You don't look so good…"

He knew, even as his rage boiled over, that she meant well. He knew that he was, in all reality, very poor looking at the moment. And he absolutely knew that Christine intended her comment in all sincerity. But his head hurt too terribly and his heart bled too profusely and his anger tipped just a bit too much, for him to appropriately react to Christine, of all people, saying he 'didn't look so good'.

"For the love of god I'm fine!" He snapped harshly. "If you're all quite done dissecting me, I'm sure there are far more important things to worry about!"

Nadir froze, eyes wide and mouth agape. He had expected Erik to snap at him like that, but never Christine. For a moment, Christine looked just as surprised as he did. Hurt and confusion flashed across her face.

Then her eyes hardened. "What is your problem!?"

Erik's face went from angry to meek in a split second.

"I'm just trying to be nice to you, and you're going to speak to me that way!?"

He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Nadir cleared his throat and began stepping backwards. "I think I'm gonna…go…" he whipped around and made a beeline for his office.

Christine crossed her arms and stared at Erik expectantly. "Well?"

"I…"

She raised her eyebrows. "Yes?"

Erik could hardly explain something that he didn't understand himself. Everything felt wrong. Inside and out, everything he said and did and thought, felt wrong. He didn't know how to make it right.

"I'm sorry…" his voice was broken. Barely above a whisper.

Christine's shoulders drooped and her eyes softened slightly. Perhaps that was a start. When she spoke again her voice was gentler, yet still commanding.

"Are you not feeling well?"

"I.." God, how did he answer that question? Did he start with the hammer pounding against his brain, or the bleeding mess that was his heart? "No…I'm not feeling well."

Christine sighed and she uncrossed her arms, stepping toward him with a sympathetic look. "Alright…it's ok, I forgive you…I get irritable when I don't feel well too..."

Erik squirmed under her caring gaze. He couldn't handle being looked at that way. He was exhausted and in pain and just wanted to stop talking and muddle through this god awful day so he could go home and be miserable.

"Maybe you should go home."

She could definitely read minds.

"No," he argued with a shake of his head. "I'm fine, really. Let's just go." He turned and pressed the elevator button, hoping to end the conversation. The doors opened immediately.

Christine didn't pick up on the cue. "Well if you're sick I certainly don't want to catch it," she countered as she followed him.

"I'm not contagious."

"Are you sure?"

"Very."

She sighed again and crossed her arms. "Alright then..."

The air was once again tainted. Erik knew it was entirely his fault this time, and hated himself all the more for it.

The day did not take long to get worse.

As usual they stopped for coffee before leaving. Erik ordered the largest and strongest cup they had. Christine tried her best to smooth the tension, making little jokes and comments here and there. He attempted to reciprocate, but the sound of her voice was devastatingly painful, and for so many reasons. Making amends may have to wait until tomorrow.

They were walking out of Starbucks when it happened.

"YOU!"

A loud, hoarse voice echoed through the lobby. Erik and Christine stopped and looked up to see a disheveled, hunched over man before them. His stained clothes and wild hair looked completely out of place in the pristinely kept lobby. His face was twisted, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was pointing straight at Christine. Erik stepped in front of her.

"You're the one who ruined everything!"

He ambled forward as Christine stepped back, eyes wide. Erik was right there to meet him.

"Stop right there."

The man hesitated at the tall figure before him. His teeth clenched as he continued to glare at Christine, still pointing.

"I lost my job because of you! I'm going to lose everything!"

"What are you talking about?" Christine demanded. She was trying to sound firm but her voice shook.

The man clenched both his fists and his face twisted even more. "He promised everyone such big things! Raises all around he said! All thanks to the Daaes! And then what happened!? The next day it's all over, just because some wishy washy floozy changed her mind!" He was screaming now.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Christine stated calmly.

He turned beet red. "Mr. Krane Simon! Ring any bells!? You cancelled your contract with his theatre! He was depending on that contract to keep us afloat for the next few months! But now us lowly stage hands are out of a job!" He began stepping forward again, his face sinister. "And it's all because of you!"

Erik placed a firm hand on the man's chest. "Don't take another step."

The man let out a sick sounding laugh. "Or what, you gonna hit me? That wench you're defending is the one who deserves to be hit!"

Erik began advancing on him, slowly pushing him toward the door. The man only slightly resisted, still angry but aware he was no match for the man in front of him. His eyes were still fixed on Christine. She began walking towards them.

"I am sorry you lost your job..." she started. Erik wished she would quit engaging him. It wasn't going to help.

"Apologies won't feed my family!" He shrieked.

Christine took another step forward, her face stern. "But you should know it was your employer's fault his contract was cancelled. I certainly did not make such a decision on a whim."

"Liar!"

He pushed forward again. Erik pushed back. The man struck out with his palms, lashing against Erik's chest. The large coffee he had been holding in his other hand was crushed between them. Erik hissed in pain as the burning liquid soaked his torso and arm. He stood his ground nonetheless, dropping the now crumpled cup to the floor.

In that split second distraction, the man managed to wriggle away and lunged for Christine. She quickly retreated backwards with a gasp. Erik whipped around and grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt, yanking him back. He drug him all the way around and shoved him backwards, once again planting himself firmly in front of Christine.

There was clearly something off about this man. Not just his irate demeanor. He seemed more than a little unhinged.

"You're a liar!" He screamed again. "You've ruined our lives and you're a coward!"

Reason seemed to leave his body with each word he shrieked. Erik moved forward, intent on getting him outside and away from Christine. Realizing this intention, the man cast a frenzied look between his target the insurmountable obstacle in his way.

He made the unwise decision to charge.

Erik met him step for step. The man's own momentum crushed his nose straight into the fist Erik raised. He stumbled backwards, stunned. Erik grabbed a handful of his jacket and held him firmly in place so he could not attempt the action again. But by the tears flowing from his eyes and small trickle of blood on his lip, that didn't appear likely.

It was at this moment that building security finally decided to make an appearance. Two of them surrounded the man on either side, grabbing his arms. Erik released his hold and stepped back.

The third officer stood in front of him. "What happened here?"

Erik ignored him and turned back to Christine. His eyes were soft and full of concern as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. Her eyes betrayed her however, as he could see the tears hovering there. His heart broke for her.

"Look, I'm sorry to interrupt," the security guard quipped, trying and failing to sound patient. "But we really need to get your version of events before we question him." He jerked his head toward where the guards were leading their assailant to the security office.

Erik briefly surmised the entire story, from the time they stepped out of Starbucks to the punch that ended their confrontation. The guard nodded as he made the occasional note.

"Alright, thanks," he said finally. "I'm sure the police will just review the security footage and he'll be slapped with a fine. You guys are with Daae on the 12th floor, right? In case they want to talk to you."

Erik nodded.

The guard made another note, muttered another thanks, and left.

Christine let out a shuttering breath.

"Would you like to go home?" Erik asked. His voice was deep and soothing and exactly what she needed at that moment.

She bit her lip, inhaled deeply, and shook her head. "No. No, I can't...I have a meeting with the board of the Public Arts Association today...I can't."

He sighed and looked at the ground, then back at her. "Alright," he conceded, "well you should at least take a minute to calm down. Why don't we go back upstairs?"

To this, she agreed. They had just started walking when she noticed the enormous coffee stain on the front of his shirt.

"Oh my gosh are you ok?" She gasped, "That must have burned you!"

"It's fine."

"Doesn't it hurt?"

He shrugged. "It did. But it's fine now."

Her eyes brightened with an idea. "Oh! Dad always has some spare shirts in his bathroom. You can borrow one of his."

Erik resisted the urge to grimace. Wearing his boss's clothes sounded too uncomfortable to fathom. "It's fine, really. It'll dry."

She scoffed. "Ya, all brown and gross looking. No way I'm walking around with you, looking like that."

Erik sighed. The idea truly made him uncomfortable. But, the distraction of worrying about him seemed to be making her feel better. And he had to agree she had a point. Walking around with a brown stain on his front was even more unappealing than wearing her father's clothes.

When they reached Gustave's office, the man himself was nowhere to be found.

"Hm. He must have went on an errand with Nadir," Christine decided. She gestured to a door behind his desk. "You can change in his bathroom if you like. There's a small white cabinet, he usually has a couple spare shirts in the top drawer."

Erik hummed and went inside, closing the door behind him.

Christine turned and wandered aimlessly around the desk as she waited. She picked up one of the balls on his Newton's cradle and sent them tapping. She shuffled a few papers around, wondering how he managed to find anything in this mess. Then she saw the stack of clean white dress shirts on his chair. She picked them up with a laugh. He must have just brought a fresh batch from home.

""Never mind Erik," she called, turning towards the bathroom. "He had them out here..."

She opened the bathroom door and stopped dead. Erik turned to face her. His stained shirt lay discarded on the countertop, his upper half bare. He was just closing the top drawer of the cabinet which had turned up empty.

"Oh...I...uh...sorry..." Christine held out the shirt in her hand, her face quickly turning red. "You change fast," she laughed nervously.

He smiled and reached out to accept the shirt. Christine was physically unable to stop her eyes from ravaging every inch of his skin. She had known he was broad and well built. But truly seeing it with her own eyes was an entirely different matter. His skin was pale, aside from the bright red blotch of coffee burn across his stomach.

"Christine?"

She appreciated the slight tone in his abs, and the strong arms that had been her saviors a few moments ago. But what piqued her interest most of all, were the scars that littered his torso. There was a short one across his left pec. A slightly longer one right across his stomach. The worst one ran up the length of his right side, white and jagged. A dozen smaller ones dotted the skin in between.

"Christiiiine?"

Her head suddenly jerked up when she felt Erik tugging on the shirt in her hand. He had been trying to take it, but her distracted hand had refused to let go.

"Sorry! Sorry," she said quickly, her already deep blushing deepening further.

Erik cocked his head, eyeing her with a slight smile. He was curious as to why he didn't feel more self conscience. He usually cringed whenever anything more than his hands were exposed. Yet right now, he felt perfectly calm. In fact, he rather liked the way she was looking at him.

Christine told herself it was time to go. Turn around. Walk out the door.

Instead, she asked him a question.

"What...um..." she bit her lip hesitantly and gestured to the marks on his body. "What happened?"

Erik grunted and looked down at himself. "Oh you know...one thing or another." He made no move to put on the shirt just yet.

She smiled. "You won't tell me?"

He hummed thoughtfully and examined himself again. Most of the marks came with sensitive back stories. He racked his brain for one that could be shared. Then he pointed to medium sized scar just below his rib cage. "This one was a fight outside a bar in Europe. Broken beer bottle."

She unconsciously took a step closer to him, eyes fixed on the scar in question. "Sounds like you're quite adventurous."

He chuckled. "Reckless, more like."

Christine hummed absently. Then she noticed something moving in her peripheral vision, and became convinced her body was possessed. Because that certainly was not her hand reaching out to touch him. The feeling of his cool skin under her fingertips assured her that it was. She traced the scar he had explained to her and his chest began moving up and down a little quicker. Her fingers didn't leave his skin as they trailed to a smaller one over his stomach, stroking it with featherlight touches.

"And what's this one?" Her voice was distant, almost dreamlike.

"I don't-" Erik's voice cracked. He cleared his throat and started again. "I don't remember on that one."

She slowly looked up at him. His eyes were dark and unmistakably hungry. Her own breathing quickened. They both mentally screamed at themselves. They both said to stop. They both felt a hundred red flags for every second they stood there.

And slowly, they were both leaning in.

Erik didn't know if he was hallucinating, dreaming, or that fight had ended much different than he thought and he was now dead. Whatever the case, Christine was touching him and leaning towards him and he was not about to question it. Everything that had been in turmoil was all at once falling into place.

Then just as quickly, it all fell apart.

"What the- what is going on!?"

Christine whipped around to find Gustave standing in the doorway, face drawn in a confused grimace.

"Dad! God, you scared me!"

"Oh really? I scared you?" His voice was devoid of sympathy. "Care to explain why you two are in my bathroom? And more importantly, why one of you is half dressed?"

Erik fixed his eyes on the floor, blood rushing to his cheeks.

"Well it's...there was…you see...there was coffee and..." Christine struggled for several seconds that felt more like hours. Gustave grew more impatient with every word, his scowl deepening. Then taking a deep breath, Christine pulled herself together and started from the beginning.

She explained everything that had happened with Krane Simon's irate former employee. She described his violent intentions and, more earnestly, Erik's invaluable intervention. Particular stress was put upon how frightened she was, and how grateful she had been for his presence. Finally, she explained the singular train of events that led to them standing in his bathroom, with Erik sans shirt.

"And, well, I hope you don't mind if he borrows your shirt," Christine finished. Erik certainly hoped he didn't, because while she was telling the story he had already carefully donned it. It was a bit snug, but it would do.

Gustave's expression had changed from anger, to fear, to concern throughout the course of their tale. In the midst of hearing how his daughter had been threatened and nearly attacked, he seemed to forget about the incriminating scene he happened upon. He quickly stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug.

"Goodness darling, I'm so glad you're alright."

Christine relaxed into his embrace and gave a quiet sigh of relief. Gustave turned to Erik with a smile.

"And thank goodness for you my boy, or this would have ended much differently." He clapped him on the shoulder.

Erik nodded once and couldn't quite meet his eye.

"And yes, of course you are welcome to my shirt," Gustave added with a laugh. Christine joined him. Erik wished he could disappear.

Once again making their way outside, Erik and Christine could hardly look at each other. It wasn't out of anger, and not exactly awkwardness either. Something had permanently changed inside that bathroom. Unlike their other little moments, which eventually faded and left their normal lighthearted friendship in its wake, this one...lingered. Something heavy now hung silently between them. Both of them felt it. And both of them were convinced that it could not, and would not, be addressed.