(A/N: This is a translation of the German story Gefangene der Angst by E.M.K.81, which I am uploading with the author's permission in the hopes that other English-speaking readers will enjoy it as much as I did. Further chapters will appear as and when I finish translating them. For a link to the original, see my profile.)

Oil on troubled waters

Christine's requirement that Erik should wear no mask proved more difficult than anticipated. Not for the inhabitants of the chateau, who had already seen him, but for Erik himself.

He was so ashamed that he could not bring himself to leave his room. Babette tried everything to induce him to come out: first she refused to take out his dogs, hoping that they would at least oblige him to go into the garden, but the result was that he simply opened his door and allowed the animals to roam the chateau without any supervision. The dogs ended up with Babette in the kitchen in any case, and she had no choice but to let them out into the garden, fetch them back in and take them back up to Erik.

Next she refused to bring him his meals. Either he would have to fetch his food from the kitchen or he would go to bed hungry.

To Babette, who had often seen Erik's face, it was no longer frightening. He was ugly, true, but one could get used to it. But how was she to make that clear to Erik himself? He could not bear the sight of himself and in the course of his life had never become accustomed to it — how could one make it clear, to someone like that, that other people could perfectly well accustom themselves to him?

The Vicomte and Vicomtesse were not prepared to relent and permit him a mask of any kind. They resented having been considered insane and now desired to vindicate themselves by demonstrating to everyone that they had not imagined Erik's existence. And the Vicomtesse had an additional reason to forbid Erik from wearing a mask: it was he himself who had wanted a normal life and had always dreamt of no longer having to hide his face. But how were people around him to get accustomed to it if he never showed himself?

After a week Babette gave in. This was more than just obstinacy: a whole week with nothing but water and Erik was hungry, not even he could deny that. His stomach was rumbling, he had pangs in his belly and could barely sleep, and he felt weak and tired. But all the same he stayed in his room and played his violin. It was this instrument that had taken up the majority of the space in the parcel he had received at Christmas.

What Babette did not know was that Erik really had tried to leave his room. Sometimes he made it all the way along the corridor, but courage left him at the latest when he reached the point where it joined the next passage, which was in constant use by those who lived and worked in the chateau, and he turned back towards his room. The thought of encountering someone and being seen was unbearable.

There was nothing left for Babette but to speak to the Vicomtesse.

"Madame, it's Erik," she began, and Christine looked up from her newspaper. In order to read she was wearing spectacles.

"What's wrong with him?" she asked.

"He's refusing to leave his room. I've tried everything I can think of already and I don't know what to do," admitted Babette, and told Christine that she was not bringing up food to Erik; even if he didn't want to eat with the other servants he would at least have to make his way to the kitchen and fetch something for himself, but although he had been a week without anything but water he still did not come down. "This is more than stubbornness. He's afraid. Perhaps you could help him?"

Christine, who felt guilty since it was she who had forbidden Erik to wear a mask, felt it to be her duty to help him now. She discussed it with Raoul. They really could not expose Erik to be the object of all eyes in the servants' hall; it would be too cruel. But if he simply shut himself up in his room, that would be no help either to them or to him. So they decided that from now on he would once again be permitted to eat at their private table. Raoul was not enthused by the thought of seeing Erik's face at every mealtime, but when Christine begged it of him he finally gave in — at least until Erik could get a better grip on his fears.

When Christine entered the passage that led to Erik's room, she could see that his door was open and heard Babette's voice. "Erik, you've got to come out some time. Madame's quite right — how do you think you're ever going to lead a normal life if you don't give other people a chance to get used to you? Everyone in the chateau has seen you already, so what's the problem?"

"I can't do it. I've seen the Vicomtesse undressed — but do you think she would show herself to me naked, since that made no difference because I'd already seen her?"

"When have you seen the Vicomtesse undressed?" demanded Babette indignantly.

Erik's voice sounded amused. "The mirror in the Opera is a two-way glass. Do you think I looked away when she was getting changed?"

Christine was appalled. On the one hand she was angry with Erik; on the other hand she was angry at herself for never having thought that he might have taken advantage of the situation. True, in those days she had still been under the illusion of the false Angel of Music, but Erik had always presented himself as being a gentleman. Yet another bitter disenchantment.

"Why are you saying that about the Vicomtesse?" said Babette furiously.

"Because you, my dear, are completely shameless, and that's what makes you so appealing."

"You've got to eat something," Babette admonished him.

"Then please bring me something — anything!" This time Erik sounded almost as if he were pleading. "I'm hungry, so hungry that I hurt all over and can't think of anything else but food. Please, at least a piece of bread."

"No, you get it yourself. I'll go with you, stand at your side, hold your hand in one of mine and my frying-pan in the other, and anyone who looks at you will get the frying-pan over his head — even if it should be the Vicomte himself!"

Christine got as far as the room and saw that Erik had drawn the curtains shut save for a small crack, and was sitting at the foot of his bed. The three dogs were lying on the bed, taking up the rest of the space. She knocked on the doorframe, and Erik jumped up and stood with his face turned away.

"Erik, did you really watch me getting undressed?" she asked angrily.

Erik's ears went red, a sure sign that he was ashamed of himself. Then he nodded.

"I'd like to box your ears!" cried Christine. "Why do you always let me down?"

Erik hung his head, but remained silent with his back turned to her. Babette caught him by the shoulders and tried in vain to turn him round by force. He was much stronger than she was. Christine decided to ignore the tussle.

"Erik, you wanted a normal life," she began, endeavouring to sound friendly. Erik nodded. "Then live normally. Come and have lunch with us — you can eat at our table, as you did previously. What you did as Pierre, you can still do as Erik."

Erik turned hesitantly. His stomach rumbled loudly and he pressed both hands to it. "I can't," he answered. "As Pierre, I wore a mask."

Now Christine saw that Erik had shaved his beard. Where the beard had been, his face was covered with scurfy eruptions.

"What happened to you?" Christine was horrified.

"I can't grow a beard. I get a suppurating rash. That's why I shave my face, even though a beard serves to mask it."

"But why have you put up with this for so long?"

"I never planned for it to be so long before I..." Erik swallowed. He didn't want to speak of his insane revenge fantasies; he wanted to shut away that shameful chapter of his life.

Christine sighed. "Erik, have lunch with us today. When I said you would have a chance to make a fresh start, I meant it."

Erik gave her an astonished look. Then he nodded and said quietly: "Thank you, Madame. I shall be there."

~o~

Erik was rather late to table, but nobody was angry with him on that account. Christine had warned Raoul and Dr Martin and his wife that Erik was horribly afraid and needed to learn not to hide himself away.

Babette insisted on serving lunch personally. Only now did she realise how agonizing Erik's hunger must have become, for he fell on the food like a starving wolf and seemed to have forgotten all else — even his manners, although he usually laid great store on polite behaviour. No-one save Erik managed to stomach anything at that meal; he, on the other hand, shovelled his food down.

When he noticed that he was the only one eating, he laid down his knife and fork and stared sheepishly at his plate. "Forgive me," he murmured, ashamed, "my conduct really is impossible."

Dr Martin came to his aid. "No, it's entirely understandable on this occasion — after a week on an empty stomach there is no need to excuse yourself."

Madame Martin tried to make friendly conversation. "You must give us time to get used to your face. My husband has a wonderful ointment; perhaps it would help with your skin condition?"

"I think I'd better leave..." Erik said, standing up. In that instant the Vicomte caught him by the arm and ordered curtly: "Sit down!"

Erik looked at him in amazement, but sat down again. Raoul made an effort to eat a couple of bites and managed a small smile. "You're quite right, Babette's cooking really is wonderful today."

Over the following days Babette managed to get Erik to the point of moving around inside the chateau and going into the gardens. He seemed constantly stressed by this, and it took him hours to calm down again, but he managed it — at least when he had his dogs with him. He used them to keep other people at a distance; that way he could pretend to himself at any rate that it was the dogs they were scared of, rather than shrinking away from him.

Raoul decided that he would have to show Erik outside the chateau as well, since though the rumours had already been adequately spread, if nobody saw him people would continue to assume that Raoul and his wife were delusional. Erik had to be seen, and openly, but this time without exposing him to unnecessary humiliation.

This was not a decision to be taken lightly, but finally Raoul and Christine came to an agreement that they would take Erik with them to church on Sunday. There was a private gallery high in the side of the church for the use of the de Chagny family, and Erik could sit up there with them without having to sit among the ordinary people, which would make things easier for him.

Practically all the inhabitants of the surrounding villages were dependents of the estate — either they were employed directly at the stud farm or in wine-growing, or leased the land they farmed, or paid rent on houses or dwellings there, since the whole area belonged to the de Chagny family — and thus no-one would dare to attack Erik when he was obviously under the Vicomte's protection. In order to make the latter clear, it would be sufficient to include Erik in the coach which took the family to church, and to allow him to sit in the private gallery.

Erik found the idea appalling when Christine mentioned it to him over their evening meal. "You want to show me off like a dancing bear," he complained, "but you don't give me anything meaningful to do. There are no problem cases among the horses at the stud at the moment. I'm quite useless."

"Erik." There was a warning note in Raoul's voice. "My house — my rules. Or have you already forgotten?"

"And if you come with us, then... then you can play with Marie for an hour after church," promised Christine, and gave him a friendly smile. Erik growled something in a language that nobody could understand, but it was plain to them all that he had said something highly impolite.

~o~

That Sunday Raoul and Christine waited in the coach, but Erik didn't come. Instead Babette arrived in her Sunday clothes, looking extremely annoyed. "He's not coming. Go without him — it's useless."

"Why not?" said Christine, astonished. Erik had been so delighted to see Marie.

"The idiot wanted to give himself Dutch courage, and he's overdone it. I've put him to bed, and he'll have to sleep it off. He'd best get ready for an earful when he wakes up!"

Then she set off on foot for the church.

Christine shook her head, and Raoul sighed. "Somehow I was expecting this," he said. "He wouldn't be Erik if he didn't get up to something idiotic."

"I'm not sure if he's simply trying to get his own way or if he is really frightened," objected Christine. "He loves Marie."

It was not until Wednesday that a subdued and ashamed Erik emerged again from his room. "Sober again?" enquired Raoul over the rim of his coffee-cup.

Erik nodded. By this time Raoul, Christine and the Martins could eat in Erik's company without any problem; they had become quite used to him. "I think I need to confess something, sir..." he began, embarrassed.

"I know," said Raoul, "it was my cognac again." He got another nod. "And what am I to do with you now?"

Taken aback, Erik stared at him. "Are you expecting me to think up a punishment for myself every time?" he asked, unnerved.

"Not such a bad idea," retorted Raoul. "That way you might actually learn something."

"You realise that you can only see Marie if you are sober," put in Christine. Erik nodded again, took up the coffee-pot and poured himself a cup.

"Absolutely. I have no desire whatsoever for Marie to see me in such a condition. Might I... try again next Sunday? I promise that I'll be sober."

~o~

On Sunday Erik was, as agreed, at the coach in order to accompany them to church. He was looking extremely nervous, but he was there. Christine noticed that he was wearing a new suit of clothing and new shoes.

"You said I could have the sewing-women at the chateau make something for me," he said, surprised, when Christine mentioned it to him.

"Of course," responded Raoul. "It wasn't meant as an accusation."

When the coach arrived at the church Erik would have preferred to remain seated. In front of the church, as was entirely usual, a great crowd of people were gathered: the inhabitants of the chateau, those who worked in the vineyards, those who worked at the stud, the farmers from the surrounding villages, craftsmen, maids and manservants, and everyone else who lived in the neighbourhood. This was the only church, and many of them had undertaken to walk for hours in order to hear Mass.

Christine got out first, and greeted a few people whom she knew personally. Then came Raoul, and finally Erik, who had pulled down his hat across his face but was wearing no mask. He walked with a stoop and with his head deeply bowed, and gazed fixedly at the ground. Like a dog with a guilty conscience, awaiting its master's punishment with its tail between its legs, he crept behind Christine and Raoul, who both did their best to act as normally as possible.

The priest was standing in front of the church, talking to the organist and the two men who worked the bellows. When he saw the Vicomte, he came to greet him.

"Ah, Monsieur le Vicomte, Madame la Vicomtesse, I'm glad to see you attend church so faithfully. Many thanks for your generous contribution to help feed the poor." Then he turned to Erik. "And you must be the mysterious Erik Bertrand about whom everyone is talking. I'm delighted that you found your way here today."

And he offered Erik his hand. Erik stared at him, taken aback. He hadn't expected a cordial greeting.

"Call me Father Johannes." The priest couldn't manage to look Erik directly in the face, but he was making an effort to be friendly. "You're engaged to Babette, I gather?" he added, in an attempt to get a conversation under way, but Erik only nodded, and the priest gave up and returned to his discussion about the organ.

Erik followed Raoul and Christine into the church and into their separate section. "Hat off!" whispered Christine, and reluctantly he removed his hat.

If anyone had asked Erik what had taken place during the service, he would not have been able to answer. He concentrated on the organ, and came to the conclusion that some of the stops were slightly out of tune; everything else he tried to blot out. And again and again he looked down at Babette, who with a few other women had to sit at the front left, in a pew set apart.

"It's not right," he muttered. "Women are put to shame for having given children the gift of life, while a murderer sits side by side with respectable citizens."

Leaving the church was even worse for Erik than going in, for now everyone really was standing there in order to stare at him. For preference he would have turned and fled back into the interior of the building to hide, but Christine and Raoul had already gone out and were waiting for him in the coach. At that moment he felt a gentle touch on his arm.

"Come on, let's go." Babette was by his side.

Erik raised his head, drew himself up to his full height, and offered her his arm. And together they walked to the coach, Erik holding himself erect and with his head high, although everything within him was crying out to cower down, duck his head and hide his face as much as he could.

When they reached the coach, Christine asked in a friendly tone, "Babette, will you come with us?" It did not seem right to her to take Erik with them and not Babette — on the other hand, they couldn't leave Erik to walk for kilometres on foot when so many other people were taking the same route and he would be subjected constantly to their gaze. Babette scrambled into the coach, and Erik took a seat next to her.

(continued...)