I do not own POTO!
Lately, Christine had been distancing herself from Erik. It may have been for the better; she still hadn't gotten over their fight over leaving. Christine was quieter and more subdued. All Erik's time invested in observing Christine had made him an expert on reading her. Something was troubling his angel. Naturally, Erik assumed that he was the cause of her consternation. It was just in his nature to hate and punish himself. Christine couldn't help but notice the way his exhilaration quickly deflated like a balloon. He had been so happy just to be around her, especially when she was offering friendship. It wasn't all that he wanted, but Erik would settle for it. The minute that he thought himself upsetting Christine, he regressed back into the poor, unhappy Erik that Christine had recoiled from in fear after learning he wasn't an angel.
By now, Christine had adjusted to his fearsome mood swings, but this was an extraordinary transformation, even for Erik. However, Christine didn't say anything about it. Her knowledge of Erik's character had grown so she knew he didn't want to talk. He only wants to compose. He isn't Meg. With the thought of Meg, Christine couldn't help but express an inward sigh of longing for her best friend. Missing Meg had only added to the fierce sensation of restless discontent Christine had been experiencing.
For the next few days, she waited patiently for the hurricane of a mood to blow over, but it seemed determined to stay put and swallow Christine in its all-consuming depths. He was rapidly becoming horrible to live with. Finally, when Erik had just gruffly corrected Christine while working on a new piece of music, Christine decided she couldn't take his irritable self-pity any longer. It was just becoming too depressing.
"Erik, what has made you so sad these past few days?" she yelled unintentionally. Conveying her frustration, Christine's sentence crescendoed until she was louder and more powerful than she had ever sounded before. The adeptness at making use of her diaphragm that went along with being an opera singer was one of the reasons it wasn't a good idea to get a professional singer angry. In other circumstances, Erik would have commended his pupil on the volume and strength that she had achieved. Now, he simply hung his head and replied, "I an upsetting you." He sounded like a small child that had just been rebuked by its mother.
Christine wasn't sure how to respond. Part of her suspected that Erik was acting so oddly because of something she did, but she also was shocked somehow. Oh. It was only then that Christine had an inkling of just how much Erik's world revolved around her.
"Erik...you're not upsetting me," she said slowly.
Something about the poor, unhappy man before her evoked an odd protective instinct in Christine. Without thinking about it, she wrapped her arms around him in what was intended to be a comforting embrace. Immediately, his cold body stiffened in surprise. His smell of death filled Christine's nostrils. Erik was completely stunned, but not unpleasantly so. He thought that he was distressing Christine, and he now found her arms around him, like in so many of his dreams before. Please don't wake up. Please. He finally relaxed and hugged her back, figuring he would make the most out of this new turn of events. Christine pulled away; it was an eternity too soon for Erik. Just as when Christine kissed him, Erik began to cry.
"Don't cry," Christine said, "you didn't do anything." Recently, at least, her cynical side added.
Erik didn't heed her request; the tears continued to fall. But it was just a hug... Then the light bulb lit. A hug from me...
"Christine is a good girl," Erik finally managed to choke out. The tears were coming harder now.
"Erik it was just an embrace," Christine tried to assure him, "nothing much, really..." I can't believe I made him so happy. Secretly, to herself, Christine wondered what life with Erik would be like if she stayed after the opera was rebuilt. He loves me so much, and I know that I would always have him to depend on. Raoul had always been unable to give her that level of dedication. He still risked his life for me. But Erik would do that, too. He doesn't have family that would hate me, either. The two sides of Christine were battling again. For the moment, it seemed Erik had won the battle, but the war had just begun. Christine had still seen Erik when he was angry, not to mention that he was also a dangerously efficient killer.
"Christine, that was more than nothing," Erik said. His voice was steady, and it seemed the tears had stopped.
The outpouring of emotion made Christine self-conscious and embarrassed. A delicate flame began to singe her cheeks. She took out a handkerchief and handed it to Erik so she wouldn't feel so out of place.
"Here," she said softly.
Erik took it, but made no move to use it. He bestowed an expectant, purposeful look on Christine's countenance, cocking his head. Although he had his mask on, the tilt of his head and the look in his eyes somehow expressed all that someone not cumbered by a mask could.
"Are you going to use it?" she asked quizzically.
"Yes," Erik said slowly, "I will Christine. You do realize that I must take off my mask."
Christine, who had been wondering how someone with no nose was filled with chagrin when she heard Erik's statement. It brought up an issue she had given little thought to earlier, his face.
"I will stay here." The words were an odd echo of what Erik said before. "Christine stays here." Both of them were aware of Erik's particular behavior when matters touched on his mask. He would have fewer qualms contradicting himself if his face was a factor than when he was killing.
"No. My face is that of a monster, as you well know. Leave now," Erik sounded like he was beginning to become angry. Christine had wanted to run away so she was safe from the full torrent of his anger, but a strong core kept her steady and rooted to the spot.
"Just take off the mask I will not go," she said steadily, her voice masking her quaking insides. She couldn't leave now, for Erik's sake.
"You silly girl! Go no!" Erik practically screamed the words at Christine.
On a strange, inexplicable impulse, intuition bade Christine to take off the mask. Listening to the strangely compelling inner voice, Christine did so without hesitation. The death's head beneath the mask leapt out at her, like an element in a haunted house. Nevertheless, Christine did not falter. The image of Erik's ugly features, twisted with rage when she removed his mask was burned into her memory forever. How could she not forget that sight? She fully expected the same thing when she took off the mask a second time.
Most importantly, she did not turn away.
Erik gave a cry like a wounded animal, turning from Christine. It was the most haunting, piteous sound she had ever heard. Just hearing it made her want to cry; any normal human being would have the same inclination, listening to the piercing agonized sound.
"Give Erik his mask," Erik whispered.
"Only if you don't turn around as soon as I hand it to you."
Christine didn't expect it, but Erik wheeled around. Somehow, he seemed taller when he was angry.
"Fine. Look at Erik's face and run. Hurt him again." Somehow, that biting sarcasm hurt Christine more than any insult Erik could have thrown at her.
Finding her courage, Christine defiantly looked up and met the blazing yellow eyes before her. Erik began to walk towards her and she stepped back, almost as if they were dancing.
Christine said steadily, "See? I can look at you. You don't have to hide, Erik."
She could practically see steam coming from Erik's twisted orifices that were akin to nostrils.
"If Erik doesn't have to hide, then why does her live in a hole underground? Why was he rejected?"
Christine stepped back another step and hit the wall. Its cold stone was hard against her back. I hope he doesn't hurt me. Her next sentence could save or damn her.
"Erik..." So much for her next sentence.
Luckily, her next action averted danger. Mostly.