I sadly don't own the Phantom or any other characters created by G. Leroux, S. Kay and A. L. Webber, but they always have a place in my heart.

Spending the Night

After Joséphine had left Erik and Nadir downstairs, she nearly flew up the stairs and into her room. She had wanted for some time now to be with Erik, but now, only minutes before her wish would come true, she was incredibly nervous.

She had no idea what would happen once he entered her quarters, what he expected of her. Would they just share the same bed sleeping, or would there be more? She knew about the workings between men and women only from books, since she had been too young for such talks when her mother had died, and she never had the confidence to seek Clara out about this delicate subject.

In the early days of their marriage, she had been glad that Erik was too broken-hearted and too much of a gentleman to claim his marital rights, but now she was no longer opposed to giving himself to him completely.

Still, she assumed that Erik was nearly as new to this as she was, and that thought comforted her a little. So, when she heard his knock at her door, asking for entry, her voice trembled only slightly.

Erik opened the door to find Joséphine standing in the middle of the room, fiddling nervously with her dress. Apprehensive to find her as nervous as he felt himself, he remained close to the door.

"I can still spend the night in my room and come here in the morning, Joséphine."

"No," she replied almost instantly, blushing once more. "I was the one asking you to spend the night here with me, and I am not going to recoil now."

Reassured, Erik gained back some of his confidence and strode over to her, taking one of her hands in his. She gave him a sly smile at this comforting gesture.

"I will go to my room while you change," Erik said, releasing her hand. Before he could turn, Joséphine halted him, her nervous expression replaced by a resolute look.

"How do you think I will get out of this dress then?" Joséphine asked him. At his confused look, she elaborated.

"It is impossible to get out of a laced dress alone. And it would certainly look strange if Fanny sees me in the morning still wearing the same dress. Besides, a corset would be much too restrictive to sleep in," she challenged him, though Erik could not help but notice the slight tremor in her voice. Then she turned around, offering her back to him.

Normally, Joséphine would have Mathilde helping undress her, but since she was sick and she knew she couldn't trust Fanny, she had told the young maid that she was free for the night after having helped her dress for dinner. Secretly, she had hoped that Erik would take the initiative.

Erik's eyes washed over her; even in this simple dress, she looked good, her curves even more accentuated by the tightly laced corset she wore. His hands trembled slightly as he reached for the top of her dress, just below her hairline. Slowly, he began to untie the laces.

His fingertips brushed the sensitive skin of her neck, and he heard Joséphine gasp in surprise. Erik nearly jerked away, but then tentatively finished unlacing her dress, while Joséphine held her arms in front of her chest to keep the dress from slipping over her shoulders.

Once Erik was finished, he backed away and faced the wall to give her enough privacy to change. Still, he heard the rustling of the fabric as it slipped to the floor, then the creaking of the floorboard as she stepped out of it.

His mind started reeling, images of scantily dressed ballet rats rising up in his head. He had never openly stalked them, but, having lived in the opera for years, it was impossible to not have come across some dancers in a nearly undressed state now and then.

Yet, hearing a woman he was drawn to undress without seeing her was more fascinating than all the girls he had laid eyes upon in the opera. He was amused that even though it had been her idea to spend the night together, Joséphine was ashamed of changing her clothes in front of him.

'In spite of her bravery in other matters, she's really innocent,' he thought, 'just like Christine.' On more than one occasion, Joséphine had defied and openly challenged him, whereas Christine had been cowing either in awe or angst before him, fearing his temper.

Christine was someone to put on a pedestal; Joséphine was much more anchored in the real world. Erik still felt deep love and a certain longing for his former pupil, but her betrayal hurt less now than it had those weeks ago.

When he heard the rustling of the bedcovers, he turned around again to find Joséphine under the blanket, which she had drawn up to her chin, looking at him expectantly. It came to him now that while Joséphine changed, he could have done the same in his rooms, and going now would certainly not help to ease the situation. He went to the chair at the window and donned his jacket and waistcoat, hanging it carefully over the back of the chair, then removed his tie, shoes and socks. Leaving his trousers and shirt on, Erik approached the bed.

While Erik undressed, Joséphine was torn between averting her eyes and casting glances towards where he was. She was grateful that he decided against fully unclothing himself, but men's clothes were much less uncomfortable to sleep in than those of women. As he slipped under the covers, she could feel the chill that came off his body, and she involuntarily shivered.

"Are you alright?" Erik asked, concerned.

"I am…fine, thank you," she replied. Both stayed as close to their edge of the bed as possible, the space between them suddenly feeling insurmountable. Nervously, Joséphine shifted, unused to having another person in bed next to her. Minutes passed, and the silence pressed uncomfortably upon them. Erik turned slightly and unintentionally, his hand grazed Joséphine's hips, making her jump.

"I am sorry," he said immediately, moving away from her.

"Oh God," Joséphine whispered, frustrated. Feeling rejected, Erik started to climb out of the bed.

"Don't leave!" she begged him. "That's not what I meant." Stilling, he remained at the edge of the bed.

"This is ridiculous," she observed, turning to face him. "There is no need for us to behave as we did just now. We are both adults, and we are not doing anything wrong."

She extended her hand to touch his shoulder and he turned to face her. "Please, come back to bed, Erik."

Giving a short nod, Erik obliged, and as he lay down again, they both turned to face each other. Since all but one gas lamp had been turned down, casting everything in shadows, they could only make out each other's contours in the near dark.

Erik looked at her thoughtfully. He did not know if she expected anything from him besides sharing the bed. If her reaction to his haphazardly touch was any indication, she did not.

He could not have been more wrong.

Joséphine studied the man facing her, her features carefully schooled. He seemed to be afraid of her rejection, though it had not been her intention to make him feel this way. She had just been surprised by the contact, feeling his cool skin nearly on hers, only a thin layer of nightclothes between them. It was unexpected, but not unwanted.

Looking at him now, she had problems interpreting his mood, for he lay with the masked side up. She wondered if he always slept with the mask on or only kept it for her, but she did not dare ask.

"Erik?" she finally ended the silence, unable to fall asleep without addressing what had just occurred.

"Yes," came his muffled answer.

"I…" she paused, trying to find the right words, biting her lower lip nervously. "I just wanted to say that I…don't mind you touching me," she finally confessed.

"Then why did you jerk away?" he demanded, hurt clearly evident in his voice.

"You surprised me," she explained. "But I won't jerk back now."

Erik looked at her for a moment, considering what she had just said. Then, he slowly extended his hand to caress Joséphine's face. She leaned into the touch, showing him that she did indeed want it. He was perplexed. Never before had a woman willingly wanted to be touched by him.

He had been with women before, but all these encounters had been forced upon him by the Khanum. She used to punish disobedient slaves like that. He could still recall the horrors in their faces as he lay above them. It was even worse when the Khanum forced him to take off the mask. Drugs had made him comply, made him force himself upon the screaming women, their fear chilling his blood, but the drugs preventing him from disobeying.

But as he looked at Joséphine now, he could see neither repulsion nor fear, only acceptance. Encouraged, he let his hand wander down to her neck, eliciting a gasp as he touched her just above the brim of her nightdress. He bent over to kiss her, stopping short of her face, asking permission. The look she gave him was answer enough. He closed the final distance and pressed his lips on hers.

It was a soft, slow kiss, much like the first one Joséphine had initiated. His hand stilled momentarily as she scooted closer and he felt her fingertips beneath his right ear, marvelled at how wonderful her fingers felt on his skin. Joséphine's fingers glided along the edge of the mask, never once touching it. She then continued towards the back, caressing his neck. He desperately wanted to feel her touch on his blemished skin and real hair as well, but did not dare taking his protections off, knowing they would be wakened by Fanny in the morning.

Joséphine let her hand slip down the back of his shirt. Before Erik registered what she was doing, she had touched one of the many scars that splattered across his back. Embarrassed, he drew away from her. Even in the shadows, he could see the shocked and worried expression on her face.

"What happened to you?" she asked, concerned. Erik gave a weary smile, taking her hand in his, playing with her fingers.

"A lot of things happened to me. Whips, chains, riding crops, canes, bare hands. There are many things I was beaten with," he told her flatly.

"Who did this?" Joséphine pressed on.

First Erik wanted to say 'Everyone who ever saw me without the mask,' but that wasn't the entire truth.

There were a few people who did eventually not mind who and what he was, but Joséphine seemed to be the first one to truly accept him, all of him, with mask and without. She did not deserve his cynicism.

"My mother, the gypsies I ran into as a boy, various people I met while travelling, and of course, the Khanum," he confessed, his voice detached.

"You…your mother…oh God!" Joséphine gasped, incredulous.

"She couldn't stand the sight of me," Erik remembered. "It was her that presented me with my first mask."

"Oh Erik." Instinctively she leaned forward and captured his mouth with hers, showing him that at least one person wanted to be close to him, one person that cared, one person that could accept and love him just like he was. Erik lost himself in the kiss, grateful for her affection.

After a while, Joséphine broke the kiss, looking at him. She lifted one hand to his mask and placed her palm full on it, making no attempt to take it off.

"No one, no one deserves what you have been through," she said determined. "The people who did this to you," she motioned towards his back, "are the real monsters here. You are a good man…"

At Erik's snort, she cast him a stern look. "…despite your temper, bitterness and cynical behaviour. What you have been through made you who you are and brought you here."

'To me,' she added in her head. "And I lo…like you very much."

Joséphine hoped that Erik had not heard her near slip, and was grateful for the darkness hiding her blush. She did not want him to know yet how much she had come to care for him, even though his behaviour towards her had changed considerably in the last time. As long as she could not be sure that he definitely returned her feelings and was no longer in love with Christine de Chagny, she had vowed to not confess her love to him.

But Erik had heard, though he didn't know what to think of it. He had told her once that he did not deem himself worthy of love, and now it seemed he had hers. The only problem was that he was not sure yet of his own feelings.

Embarrassed and thinking that she had said too much at that point of their relationship, Joséphine turned and laid on her back.

"I am really tired now, would you mind going to sleep now?" she asked, turning her head to face him.

Erik looked at her for a moment, and nodded. "Good night, Joséphine."

"Good night, Erik," she replied, smiling, then bent once more over to give him a quick peck on the mouth before nestling down into the covers.

A/N: I spent the weekend in London, and I tried to get tickets for the Phantom at the Opera at Her Majesty's Theatre, but it was already sold out. I did get a small poster of the show though. Maybe I get lucky next time.

Thanks for reading!