Disclaimer: Gaston Leroux is THE only owner of the Phantom of the opera. All of us others are just his humble servants, waiting to get a letter signed O.G.

~Chapter fourteen~

Christine tried to find her composure again.

"Erik what have you done?" She took a small step forward to examine him closer. His mask looked so lifelike! His eyes and hair was the only thing that was still out of the ordinary. His eyes because they were so small and yellow and his hair because… well because there was no hair, only on a few spots on his head. But the mask he wore had eyebrows, a perfect nose, full lips and a masculine jaw line.

With the voice he knew he could intoxicate her with he replied "I've become a man Christine. An ordinary man. A man you can love easily and who can take you out on Sundays. A man who can accompany you to the ballet and go shopping with you at the market in Les Halles..." she only heard him briefly, he seemed full of bubbling enthusiasm but when she raised her hand to touch his face he grew quiet. It wasn't what she had expected, even though she didn't know what she had expected. The mask wasn't like any of the other masks he had worn. This was different in so many ways she couldn't even begin to know how to describe it to someone. It was soft to the touch, and it almost felt humanlike. More humanlike than Erik's cold, real skin did. It was freaky.

"Where did you get this?" she asked, unable to keep the amazement out of her voice.

"I'm a genius, am I not? I made it myself after seeing a man just looking just like this walking at Rue Daunou. Do you like it Christine? I hope you like it, yes I hope you like it very much. I did it for you my little wife, I did it for you."

What could she say? She knew he wanted a reply. This was like nothing she had ever experienced before. This mask fit better with his beautiful voice because it was beautiful too, but she knew that underneath it all was Erik, the torturer, Erik the murderer. But he was also Erik the opera singer, Erik the composer, Erik the magician, Erik the illusionist, Erik… her angel of music. She knew he was manipulating her again but still she was completely honest when she replied.

"Yes Erik, I like it…"

He seemed to beam of pride over her reply.

"I knew you would Christine, I knew you would. Now maybe you can see me for what I truly am… yes that's what I thought. And you will be happy with me. Truly happy." He grabbed his felt hat and offered her his arm.

"Shall we go out?"

"Go out?" she knew he had let her go several times and that she had returned on her own, but that was for work. So she could sing to him on stage and he could watch her from box five.

"Yes, out!" He took a cane and pulled down the hat far enough so it wouldn't show his bald spots and started walking towards the boat. Like a gentleman he helped her get in it and then put some white gloves on. They took the boat to the other side and walking in silence along a way she hadn't been before they found their way out to the outside of the opera.

When they got out Christine realized how much she had missed the sun. And around them there was lots of people but no one took notice of Erik. She was afraid they would though. She was afraid that at any moment now someone would scream "Murderer!" or see that it was him, the opera ghost, but everybody passed them without even raising as much as an eyebrow.

"What about a walk along the Seine?" they walked all the way to Pont Royal, but they didn't cross the bridge, instead they walked along the Seine into the Jardin de Tuileries green park.

In the park there were people discussing politics, families having picnics, and she even saw a policeman. She thought for a split second to call for help, but then again she thought she was in no danger. Erik had scared her a lot but never really hurt her, and she had put herself in this situation alone so she would have to deal with it alone! All of a sudden a ball comes out of nowhere and hits Erik's foot. He stops in his step and she can feel her blood freeze to ice in her veins. What will he do? She saw a young boy, not more than six or seven run for the ball just as Erik picks it up from the ground.

"Is this yours?" Erik says. And to her surprise he just raises his arm to give the ball back. The boy takes the ball from Erik's white gloved hand and he looks at him for what felt like a lifetime but can't have been more than a split-second. The boy's light blue eyes look straight into Erik's yellow and he is just a few feet away from Erik's face. Then the boy turns and runs off, shouting a "Thank you monsieur!" over his shoulder. Christine looks intently on Erik's face and to her amazement he is smiling widely.

"Did you see that, dear? He didn't even look twice." Erik said as they continued walking. Erik grew braver after his first close encounter with another human being that he hadn't scared to death just by being himself. He stopped and bought her a rose from a young teenage girl who was selling them at the park entrance.

"A rose for a rose my dear." He said when he with courtesy handed it over to her. She couldn't help but blush when he did. After a while they headed back and along the way to the opera he asked her several times along the way if there was something she was missing 'at home' that they should buy on their way, but she just shook her head. She felt worn and needed to rest.

When they got back to the house by the lake Erik said he would leave shortly and get her something to eat so she sat down in the couch. When she finally allowed herself to relax she could feel her eyes falling down and before she knew it she had fallen asleep in the couch.