--

It is too easy to lose track of days down here. With no way to tell if it is night or day besides Erik's quiet reminders, my steady tracking of the weeks begins to disperse into a whole jumble of time. I suspect I have been down here for over three months, but I cannot know for sure and for some reason, it annoys me. I approach Erik in the kitchen finally and ask, "Do you have a calendar?"

He looks at me as if that is the most bizarre thing he could ever have dreamed of me asking. "A calendar?"

"Yes." I say, frowning a little at his attitude. "I want to know the date."

He narrows his eyes suspiciously. "Why do you need to know?"

I do not know exactly why he seems so wary of everything I ask of him, as if they are all ploys that will eventually lead to my departure. I do not miss the tightness in his golden eyes, nor the tension throughout his lean body.

"Never mind, then." I sigh, resigned.

I must look more disappointed than I really feel, for he touches my wrist as I turn away. "I believe it is the tenth of May, darling." he says gently.

"Oh!" I say, receiving a shock I had not been expecting at all. Deciding too late that this would be information I best kept to myself, I say out loud, "Yesterday was my birthday!"

It really wasn't a big deal in any way. When I was with Papa, we were generally too poor for him to do anything other than play a special song for my birthday. Last year at the Opera, it literally went by unnoticed. I even have to think for a moment to determine how old I am.

An expression similar to the one that would appear if I told him I was dying came onto his wretched features. "Oh Christine, my angel! I am so sorry."

"It doesn't matter." I say truthfully. "It just surprised me."

"And poor Erik gave nothing to his wife."

"Oh, no Erik, that is fine, I didn't mean—"

"Nonsense! Husbands take care of their wives, dote upon them, do they not? We are no different! We are just like everyone else! And Erik will treat his wife. With what, with what… I know! Tonight we shall go up for a walk."

He looks so determined that I smile at his vigor. Just a little, so he isn't incensed. "Very well."

He touches my cheek affectionately and then exits.

True to his word, late after the time I would normally retire, he tells me it is time for our walk. I look straight into his eyes as he tells me this, the rest of his face covered by a mask.

I frown. "I burned your mask."

"I have many more." he replies gravely.

"I'll burn them too." I mutter, and follow him out.

He takes my hand and it is gentle and loose, loose enough that I could pull away and be up the staircase before he had time to gather his senses.

Raoul's voice echoes in my head.

"Why, when you were able to run away, did you go back to him?"

"Because I had to. And you will understand when I tell you how I left him."

"Oh, I hate him! Christine, tell me, do you hate him too?"

"No."

How he terrified me, how he horrified me to no end! When we were not in our music, he ceased to become an angel and became a man, a man that scared me… I was safe, all that time, up on the rooftop with innocent Raoul, never being able to imagine myself where I am now with Erik. His living wife, and considering… well, not quite yet.

I tighten my hold on my husband's hand.

"Watch your step." Erik warns as we hit the cool air.

"It's so peaceful out here at night."

"Of course. It is Erik's favorite time of day."

"You can take your mask off." I offer, after looking around the alley. "It is dark. No one is around."

He noticeably tenses, staring straight ahead. "You cannot be sure of that. I will keep my mask on when I am in this world, Christine, and not my own. You cannot change that."

I pretend to pout until we reach a thick patch of trees. I wander over and sit in the middle while Erik watches with an amused eye. "Grass is so soft to sit on." I say. "Come here."

He sits next to me, his eyes glowing in the dark as he looks back and forth for passerby.

"Let's talk." I say dreamily. "You could tell me a story."

"Stories, stories." he murmurs. "Will you never tire of them?"

I glance at him, where he is still seemingly uptight, his nervous eyes still darting everywhere. I grimace and turn to sit right in front of him.

"You are not comfortable here. That is ridiculous. No one is here but me. Now, close your eyes."

After an extremely miffed expression, he does so.

I put my hands on the edges of his mask as if I am going to take it off, but I don't. I want him to trust me. "Imagine that's it's just you and me, alone at home. In your world, in our world, where no one else is possibly around us. You take off your mask because you know there is nothing to fear, not from me, not from your wife…"

My babbling becomes easier as I go on, my hands staying in that exact same place. As my voice dwindles away, he opens his eyes carefully. "Aren't you going to take it off?" I hear the impatience in his tone.

I move my fingers just enough for him to feel them. "Do you want me to?"

He stares at me with anger and amusement before settling on acceptance, murmuring, "You are very sly, my love…"

I take my hands away as he pulls his mask off. I sit there for a moment, looking at all the trees swaying slightly. "What are you seeing?" he asks curiously.

"Trees. Air. Light. Lots of things." I reply. "What do you see?"

His gaze never leaves me. "I see a young angel before me, caring for me with her love and voice. I see the pleasures of company and nature that have thus far been denied to me. I see millions of stars that have been wished on, all created and protected by God."

He surprises me. "You believe in God?"

I do not mean to sound so accusing, but I cannot picture Erik, my Erik in his living hell that he created, ever coming to terms with the Almighty Father.

He is quiet for a long moment. "Mankind was created by the devil, Christine. There was too much cruelty in all of them to assume anything else. And then…I met you. The devil could not even dream up someone as pure and good as you. Nothing less than angels created you, angels at the foot of God. How could I believe in anything else after you?"

I am speechless. "So…you could say that I… that I brought you to God?"

"That you saved my soul? Yes, you could say that."

I reach and take his hand, strong hope flickering in my heart. "You are not going to Hell?"

Erik laughs out loud. "God can hardly forgive me for what I've done when I've yet to forgive myself."

"God always loves us." I protest. "I need the thought of a love that is so powerful and always there, no matter what we do, no matter who we are." A love that would take me back, no matter what I had done to it.

His eyes shimmer. "Yes, it is very appealing, is it not?"

I hesitate. "There are rules one is expected to follow." He turns away, and I know he is thinking about all the murders, the curses, the lies. But I am thinking of something else. "Erik, are we really married?"

He furrows his brow. "Yes."

"I know." I reply absentmindedly. "But there was no… well, there was no priest."

Erik smiles. "But there was a God."

I lean against him as his hands comb through my hair. I wish we could stay this way forever. Erik is kind and gentle, not angry, and I am sure of myself and of my feelings when I am with him like this. "Thank you for telling me that you believe in God." I say softly.

He exhales. "I am by no means a religious person."

Without warning, I giggle.

He views me solemnly as I put my hand to my mouth. "Oh Erik, forgive me! It's just—I had to picture you at a Mass and—I cannot imagine—with all those people, you would be going crazy—"

I think I am overly exhausted, but I relax when I notice he is smiling too. "That would be quite out of the question, wouldn't it be?" he asks, and I nod like a little girl, my curls bobbing.

I sober quickly, wrapping my arms around my knees. "I think we should move. Live above ground."

Leave it to me to spoil his good mood. "No." he says curtly.

"Why not? I thought that was what you wanted. What you always wanted. To live above in the world with your wife, just like everybody else."

He stares at me darkly. "We are not like everybody else."

"But earlier, you said we were—"

"I wish. And I try. But we are not. Do not ever forget that, Christine."

I swallow. "I won't."

He pats my hand. I wish I could bring back his smile, his rare laughter. It's all I need in this dark world. A summer breeze blows around us, and I shiver. His hand pauses, and he very gently takes off his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders.

"Now you will be cold." I argue feebly, hoping not to anger him.

He laughs and moves his hand to my face so I can feel his icy skin. I kiss his fingertips very slowly.

He sighs.