The restaurant was at a seaside resort for rich travelers to stay and dine. Erik berated himself for having not discovered this more luxurious spot to lodge before Christine had suggested staying at the Inn. Then again, he thought to himself, he could not bear the shame of having his money refused upon seeing his 'eccentric' mask.

The driver had most graciously suggested this spot, when Erik inquired where they might have some privacy while dining. The finely dressed host showed them to their secluded little balcony table. It was rather like being seated at the opera in a private box, only the 'stage' was a view of the seashore through glass panes. When the host left them and drew the curtains down for their privacy, Erik removed Christine's cloak and his own and pulled her chair out for her to sit.

Christine's face glowed warmly in the candlelight from the short flamed candles on the table. The sconces behind her head gave her hair a hazelnut shimmer that made Erik wish to run his hands through its softness.

"I hope you don't mind the seclusion of our dining table tonight," Erik said.

"Not at all," Christine replied, "I rather enjoy it. It's so warm and cozy in here."

As they were looking over the menus, Christine studied Erik over the top of hers. He was so magnificently powerful, and yet so incredibly vulnerable, she thought. When his eyes lifted to glance at her, she quickly looked back down, pretending to be absorbed in the choices before her.

For the second time that evening, Erik received a small ounce of hope. She had been looking at him. And then quickly looked away, as if embarrassed to be caught staring. But it wasn't her stare that gave him hope, it was the look on her face and the deep blush that came after. She had not been staring out of pity or disgust, it seemed more to be out of curiosity.

"Is something on your mind dear?" Erik inquired.

"Hmm?" Christine looked up. "I was just deciding on supper."

"I meant besides that," he gently pried. "You were blushing just now," he pointed out.

"I was?" Christine said nervously. "I must be a little flush from coming in from the chilly air."

"Ahh," Erik said. He could tell she wasn't telling the truth, but just wanted to know if she would say what was truly on her mind. "Yes, there is a bit of chill in the air, but it's hardly unpleasant yet. It won't be for another month before the true cold hits."

"That's quite true," she said.

'What are we doing?' Erik wondering to himself. 'We are chatting about the weather of all things?'

The waiter appeared and took their order while rudely staring at Erik's mask. He did not even pay enough attention to write down Christine's order, which irritated Erik to no end.

"The lady said she would like the filet mignon, Monsieur," Erik repeated, breaking him out of his fascinated trance. He quickly jotted down the orders on his pad and left.

"I apologize for that," Erik said.

"For what? A rude waiter?" Christine replied. "That wasn't your fault."

"I know, but I still feel badly for having to subject you to the uncomfortable situations that my mask creates."

"Its alright, Erik. It's quite excusable. Besides, its nothing you can help, now is it?" Christine reassured him.

"No, I suppose not. They stare when I wear the mask, and they scream and run if I don't. I suppose that staring isn't so bad. But I still hate it, especially since it affects you." Erik sighed deeply and lowered his eyes to the table.

Christine, trying to lighten the mood a bit said, "It could be worse."

"Oh really, how?" Erik said moodily.

"You could be morbidly obese. Or you could have six arms instead of two."

"My dear, with six arms, I should be delighted. I could play three times the music I already do. I could be my own orchestra with that many hands!" Erik chuckled.

"You are great enough without them, but one could only imagine what your music would be like then. You would have to modify your organ greatly to accommodate all those extra fingers!" Christine exclaimed, truly glad for cheering Erik up.

When their salad and soup came, Erik tried hard not to notice the swiftness with which the plates and bowls were deposited in front of them, just enough for the soup not to spill. Erik focused rather, on how lovely Christine's eyes sparkled with amusement.

Christine started in on her food when she noticed Erik, picking at his own. "What's wrong Erik? Are you not hungry? You've not eaten all day, you have to be famished."

"It's not that," Erik started, "Its just… Never mind. Please eat, dear. You're soup is going cold."

"So is yours," Christine retorted.

After the main course was brought in, it dawned on her. "Erik, why don't you take off your mask? It can't be comfortable for you to try and eat with it on," she said softly.

For a moment, Christine thought that Erik was going to storm out of the room; he tensed so horribly, clenching his hands into fists on the edges of the table. But then, he relaxed them, and sighed. Then he reached up slowly, to lift the mask from his face, but stopped before removing it.

"Are you certain you can stomach to eat your meal while seeing my face?"

Christine gave him a saddened, yet exasperated look, then leaned across the table and slid the mask off his face for him, lying just to the side.

"Wait here," she said, rising to leave the table.

When she returned a few moments later she told him, "You have no need to worry. We won't be disturbed." She gave him a little wink, and resumed her place at the table.

"What did you tell our waiter?" Erik asked out of curiosity.

"Just that we needed a little more… privacy," she said slyly.

Erik just grinned at her daring boldness. But then again, she was a wonderful actress. "You brazen little minx," he teased.

"Well, it worked." She smiled back at him and started in on their delicious meal.

After dinner, they decided upon taking a walk back to the inn rather than taking a cab. It was not too far, and Erik felt the need to get some fresh air to relieve some of the tension he felt during supper. He was still not used to the fact that his face was not a bother to Christine (at least he hoped so) and he felt very naked when his mask was removed in her presence.

They walked down to the rocky shore, listening to the waves crash on the sand and enjoying the chilled breeze that swept Christine's hair back from her face. She snuggled deeper into her cloak, but dearly wished she had brought a warmer one.

"Are you cold my dear?' Erik asked her.

"Just a little," She said.

Erik began to remove his own heavier cloak to wrap around her shoulders.

"No, Erik. You'll be cold without it," she protested.

"I won't let you freeze because I decided we should walk back from dinner."

Christine looked up shyly, "Would it be too inappropriate to share it?"

Erik's heart skipped a beat. What did she just suggest? He was scared, but at this opportunity suggested by her, he was not about to argue. "I don't think that the moon will mind, as he is the only one to see us here."

True to his word, Christine looked about and realized that they were very much alone on the shore. Had it been during the daytime, the beach would have been slightly crowded with travelers and their children.

Erik carefully extended the wing of his cloak with an outstretched arm, to accommodate Christine's small figure under it.

She slowly and awkwardly crept under his cloak, as the warmth enveloped her and his arm gently rested about her shoulder. A sensation of bliss and unsettled nerves overtook her all at once. His warm solid body was so very near her. She could feel his muscles flex and relax under his clothing and his hip lightly bump against hers with the rhythm with which they walked.

Erik's head was reeling at the sensations her body gave off to his. He felt the weight of his arm would crush her if he was not careful to hold her gently; afraid she might break under the strain of his limb. And yet, he wished for nothing more than the chance to hold her tighter. He felt he could not dare to look at her, lest the feelings he felt show in his eyes. What would she think of him when she glimpsed the love and adoration there, as well as the fiery passion that burned beneath the surface of his cool demeanor?

Christine noticed that their pace had slowed considerably. She did not question why, because she felt it too. When they reached the inn, all these pleasurable sensations that overwrought her senses would be over all too soon. She did not wish to relinquish them so quickly.

"Christine?" Erik asked softly.

"Hmm?" she replied, daring to glance up at him.

"What are you thinking?" he dared.

Christine's lips trembled. She could not form her feelings into words. "I don't know," she stammered softly. "What are you thinking, Erik?" she asked.

He could not answer. Could he really tell her that he wished for nothing more than to sweep her off her feet in a kiss; to carry her off to the nearest church and marry her? Erik's heart nearly stopped when she slowly turned to face him.

As though she had read his mind, she softly wound her arms around his waist and he instinctively wrapped both ends of the cloak around behind her in a protective cocoon. She let out a shaky sigh into his chest as he buried his face into her hair. They stood there, silently unaware of anything but one another.

"Oh, Christine," he murmured into her soft curls, "My sweet Christine." His shoulders began to shake with emotion and she felt the wetness of a tear brush her cheek when she moved to rest her chin on his shoulders.

"Shhh," she hushed him, and stroked his hair with her pale hand. "Erik, it's alright."

"Oh, Christine… no one has ever…" he choked out. "Not even my mother… would hold me."

Christine's heart broke when she heard his voice crack with emotion. She embraced him tighter, holding him to her, rocking him back and forth and humming softly into his ear. They stayed like that for some time before Erik finally pulled back. "We should head back. Its very late and its getting rather cold, my dear," he said softly.

Christine nodded and they resumed their walking to the Inn, in silence.

Erik walked her to her door. The rest of the guests were fast asleep and there was no sound but the creaking of the wind in the trees outside. He leaned towards her, tentatively. Her heart fluttered and her lips softly parted in anticipation. Her eyes closed and she leaned forward slightly.

Then she felt his lips brush across her forehead ever so timidly. "Goodnight, Christine," he breathed.

She opened her eyes, "Goodnight, Erik."

He quickly left her and entered his own room, shutting the door swiftly behind him.

A shockwave of nervous relief and disappointment went through her. Christine stood there a moment longer. What had just happened? What had almost happened? He had wanted to kiss her, she was sure, and then at the last minute, he didn't. She went into her own room and quietly closed the door behind her. As she dressed for bed, she wondered to herself about the events of the evening. These emotions inside her confused and scared her, but what scared her the most, was the disappointment she felt when his lips did not meet with hers.