A/N-The little piece is completely based on a wonderful pencil sketch from the very talented Coatntails over on Tumblr. If you haven't seen her artworks you're definitely missing out! I asked permission to write a little scene to accompany her drawing and she kindly granted permission. I hope you enjoy it!

The Mask

2018 Riene

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The concert was over and the well-wishers gone, departing in their open carriages and traps, for the summer evening was warm and humid from the nearby Seine and the heavy clouds. It had been a spectacular success. The Management was pleased, Meg had hugged her, and even Madame had unbent so far as to brush a kiss on her cheek with a murmured "Congratulations, my dear."

She bolted the door, grateful to be alone at last, and pulled the pins from her hair, letting it cascade in soft curls down her nearly-bare back. The gown was deceptively simple and she looked well in it, white silk with diamenté trim about the low neckline, and it clung to her curves. Long sleeves ended in chiffon ruffles, accenting the graceful movements of her hands. For a moment she considered changing into something less apt to attract dirt, but the familiar click of the mirror captured her attention.

He stepped through, starkly black to her white, the Opera Ghost in his formal evening wear. She moved toward him with a smile and he took her hands in his own. "I thought you would never come. How did I do, Maestro?"

Erik, who had watched from his box as always, hidden in the shadows and as breathlessly spellbound by her pure sweet voice as he had been two years ago, smiled faintly. She had looked like an angel incarnate upon the stage, and her voice, singing the words he himself had written for her… "The Heavens sighed in admiration and envy, for there are none in the choir above who can compare."

As usual she smiled at his grandiose praise, and threw her arms around his neck, laughing, and brushed a kiss below his ear where the edge of the mask revealed an inch of pale flesh. . "You do exaggerate so! Not to mention blaspheme!" But her eyes were sparkling and Erik permitted himself a smile.

Encouraged, Christine drew him down beside her on the chaise. She searched his face, blue eyes locking with his golden gaze. "Erik, have you thought any more about what I asked?"

Abruptly he stood, the pleasant mood evaporating like the bubbles in the champagne he'd left to cool down below. He paced away, his movements agitated and jerky. "No."

Determined, she raised her chin. If she let him avoid the topic again the remainder of the night would be soiled. "Erik," she began again softly, "come sit with me."

He did, and she took his hand in hers, smoothing the bony knuckles, gently tracing the lines of the tendons.

"How can you ask it of me?" he said harshly.

"I would see the face of the man I love."

"This face..."

"...is the one I love." She touched the edge of the mask and he flinched violently. "Oh my love, you must have faith in me. I will not run away, nor will I be horrified."

Erik raised a hand to the mask. "To see this, to wake to it, to dine across from it….this monstrous…."

"You are no monster," she said firmly, with a trace of anger. "I will not have the man I love talk about himself in such a way. Once and for all, Erik….do you love me enough to remove the mask, to live with me as a man and not a phantom?"

He gave an anguished cry and turned away, shoulders shaking, but she did not release his hand. "You mean this."

"I will not marry you any other way," came her steady reply.

The small box weighed heavily in his breast pocket, the first step on a journey toward salvation. He had tasted bliss on her soft lips, shuddered with each caress, had known laughter and companionship, music, and the first terrifying glimpses of trust, honesty, and hope. She had bared her soul to him, offered her love, her sweet faith, her body, to spend her life with him….could he do no less?

And with shaking hands, he slipped the mask from his face.

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Thank you for reading, and please leave a comment. :)

R