After considerable time in each other's arms, they separated and resumed their meal at the table. Christine felt as though the weight of uncertainty had been lifted off her shoulders and she was once again free to enjoy Erik's company and the possibilities therein.

Erik watched Christine sip her wine. He smiled gently as she chatted about memories of the town and how she remembered it from her childhood. He clasped his hands together under his chin, leaning on his elbows at the table's edge, trying to listen as intently as was possible, despite the nagging itch in his head. Despite all Christine had professed, he was still uncertain whether or not to enjoy his good fortune too much. By the end of their simple meal, when the last of the wine had been drained from their glasses, Erik resolved to let fate take them wherever it may and to do his best to tell his own worries to go to hell and stay there.

Erik rang for their waiter to pay their bill and call for their carriage to be brought around. The young man took an extra moment to stare curiously at Erik's mask when he was preoccupied with getting their cloaks off the hook. Christine stepped forward half a stride gave the young man an accusatory look, hardening her eyes. His eyes immediately dropped and his face turned red with embarrassment at being caught. As they exited the restaurant, Christine's arm looped through his, she thought about the waiter's reaction to her.

The carriage was waiting for them at the roadside, but before Erik could help her into it she said, "Erik, wait. Do you mind if we walk into town again for awhile?"

"No, of course I don't mind," he replied then told the driver he was no longer needed, handing him a few coins for his trouble. "Is there something you wish for or need?"

Christine momentarily bit her lip, and then said, "I want to try something." She really did not want to offend him but her curiosity got the better of her.

"What's that?"

She paused then said as they walked, "I hope you would not be perturbed with me if I conducted a little experiment?"

Erik stopped walking. "Alright Christine, what's going on in that head of yours?" Erik asked, amused and puzzled at once.

"Well, if we are going to return to Paris in a week and go out publicly, I want to see how others will react to us."

Erik wasn't sure what to think of this at first. He feared the townspeople's reactions might discourage her and change her mind about the relationship they now shared. His usual reception with strangers varied from outright shock and abhorrence to nervous avoidance. Occasionally the unsolicited vehemence towards him turned violent. He was none too sure how they might react when directly approached in a friendly open manner. He had learned from an early age to come off as somebody not to be trifled with at first impression and he was rarely forced to deal with the negativity; most simply dealt with him quickly then retreated as soon as possible.

"Are you certain you wish to do this? You have seen how some people treat me when they see my mask."

"Erik," Christine said as she started walking up the cobbled pathway, "most people, however rude, would not dare affront a lady. You didn't see it but back in the restaurant, our waiter was gawking at you when your back was turned and I gave him a look that could freeze hell over. You should have seen how deeply he blushed when he realized he was offending me by staring at you."

Erik was a little surprised to know that Christine would be so angry at someone on his behalf. Seeing the determined expression on her face he knew he would not dissuade her from this. "I fear for how this will go over, but I will acquiesce to your request, however it may turn out."

She nodded and after a moment's pause, lifted back his hood from his head slowly, letting her gloved hand brush his hair, then pulled him along the street. "Good. Now, we need to find somewhere to excite some attention."

They walked through town, all the while Christine held tightly onto Erik's warm secure arm. His muscled were taunt under the sleeve of his new shirt. As they passed people on the street, Christine caught their eyes, daring them to stare. She wanted them to lay eyes on them so she could give them the same hard look with her eyes as she smiled sweetly at them and bobbed her head in acknowledgement. Every person they passed who looked their way, did a double take, but the moment Christine looked back at them, they realized they had been caught in a faux pas and attempted to pass it off as though they were looking at something next to them or behind them.

Christine felt a slight power playing at this game of social etiquette. She wanted them to notice and stare. She wanted them to feel uncomfortable for doing so. She marked the difference in their reactions now. Before when she and Erik walked anywhere, he would duck his head under his cowl and hurry past everyone with his face lowered under it and her trailing slightly behind him. Now she felt defiant and bold.

Christine could feel Erik's hesitation as people passed them on the street. She looked into his eyes for reassurance and lifted her chin a little higher indicating he ought to do the same. Let them see your mask, she thought.

"Good afternoon," she piped to an older gentleman as they rounded a corner. He tipped his hat towards her before noticing Erik.

Erik flinched at the attention. The man passed them with a slightly quicker step than before, but to his credit, did not continue to stare as they passed.

Erik felt himself sweating under his collar. Despite having lived a lifetime of such encounters, he rarely went about with his mask uncovered by a hood in such a public place. Even when he was a cockier young man and experimented on his own with people's social interaction with him, he was always cautious to never push it too far or reveal too much of himself. Erik could still feel that itching need to look for a way out; a dark alley to escape into should trouble arise.

"Christine," he said, stopping between two shops. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable doing this. It's been so long I don't know if I can break my old habits."

Christine felt bad for placing Erik in an uncomfortable situation, but this, she thought, was the price of courting her. She would not be ashamed to be with him, but he would have to be a little more willing to take risks.

"Erik, I'm sorry but this is necessary. You may be used to hiding, but I am not and I certainly don't plan to skulk around in the shadows." She placed a hand on his, clasping it tightly, "You once told me that with me by your side, you would dare to walk freely down the street as any other man. All I'm asking you to do is try."

Erik gazed at her in wonder. Who was this brave creature and what did she do with his little Christine who used to run off and cry in her dressing room when someone was particularly cruel to her.

"How are you doing this Christine?" he wondered.

"What do you mean?"

"You are suddenly so brave, and at expense of your own reputation," he said.

Christine grinned, "I'm not that brave. It's called acting," she said.

Erik realized she was faking her confidence. "You could have fooled me."

"Erik, how else do you think I've stood up for myself? If people at the opera think I'm not an easy target, with the exception of a few, they tend to leave me alone."

"I know what you are saying, however, my approach has always been a little more defensive than that," Erik said to her. "If they think I'm a danger to them, they tend to leave me alone, so you will forgive me if your friendly directness is a little difficult for me to handle."

"Just try it, for me. If you act pompous and arrogant like a rich well-to-do, then most people will fear to slight you," Christine said, putting her nose up in the air like La Carlotta.

"Oh, I see. So I simply must pretend I'm the Vicomte de Chagny?" Erik teased.

Christine's eyes lit with mirth, "Erik, he's not that bad. Actually he's rather modest."

"If you say so. Modesty has many subtle levels, my dear and he is not subtle," Erik joked. He gestured for them to continue walking down the street through town. "After you, my prima donna,"

Christine, still holding his hand, feeling the butterflies in her stomach at the warmth, led him once again down the road. She tucked herself slightly behind him to let him lead the way. They passed two young girls who were skipping hand in hand in frilly petticoats under their school frocks. They nearly stumbled when they saw Erik, but when Erik looked at them, they pulled each other aside to whisper and point and giggle.

Erik sighed. "At least they didn't scream and run into the closest building for help," he said dryly.

Christine leaned towards his shoulder and replied, "They are just silly little girls. What do they know of you?" She smiled up at him and squeezed his arm.

They continued this way for half an hour, up one side of the street, the back down the other; parading themselves to the townsfolk with the sole intent of being noticed by them. Erik's tension gradually decreased with every encounter. He began to focus less on their reactions to him, and more on Christine's courageous act. She walked by his side, head held high with a haughtiness rarely seen outside the opera or high society. Her new clothing certainly helped her play the part since they were far more expensive than anything she previously wore. Once or twice he caught her ostentatious glare at anyone who dared stare in their direction for more than a polite moment. He suddenly felt very proud to have such a creature on his arm, even if she was just acting. He knew what it took to put on a face braver than one felt in an uncomfortable situation. She was changing. He still saw the timid reserved ballet rat he once knew when he first laid eyes on her, but more and more, she was becoming a fierce lioness. She would one day truly command the stage with all the inherent power and airs of a genuine Prima Donna. His chest swelled with admiration and love for this girl who had captivated him so. If she had the courage to be his then he owed her the same.

He renewed his hold on her hand, bringing it up to rest in the crook of his arm and led her down the street. He even went so far as to doff his hat at a man sweeping off his front steps and wish him good afternoon; Never mind he nearly dropped the broomstick as he absentmindedly answered back.

Erik finally asked as they neared they place they started from, "Christine, I must admit, this is far easier with you here by my side, but what happens when we are doing more than passing strangers in the street? What happens when we are sitting down to dinner with your friends who know you all too well to believe your little act? How will you cope with that?"

Christine bit her lower lip and thought of it for a moment before answering, "I'm not entirely sure. I was hoping you would have more insight. I suppose we will simply have to see what happens; although I would recommend allowing me to speak privately with certain individuals first before introducing you."

"You mean Raoul, don't you?" Erik muttered derisively.

"Actually I was thinking about Madame Giry. I'm not certain how she will take it to know you are a man of flesh and blood, and not the Opera Ghost who has played so many tricks and illusions on her. It might be best if she never knows who you really were."

"What do you mean 'were'?" Erik asked.

Christine said, "You don't think you can go back to being the Opera Ghost do you?" She took his hand, and with a confidence more than she was used to having, said, "You're no longer him. You're simply my Erik."

Erik flushed under his mask, thankful she could not see how the blood rushed to his face as she called him 'my Erik'. He slowly lifted her hand to his lips and brushed them gently across the back of her glove. "And you are my little Christine."