As he guided her down the corridors, past old pieces of scenery, Erik feared she would come out of her hypnotic stupor and try to head back the way they came. His only worry was that she would get lost and hurt herself if she did so.
Christine, however, seemed content to follow where he was leading her and trust that he would protect her from any dangers they might encounter along the way. Even though he had been deceiving her these past few months, something inside her said that she would be safe with him. He had never been cross with her, never forced his way into her dressing room (but there was no telling if he might have spied on her!), and, so far, he had only held her hand firmly so she would remain close in the darkness.
Christine was so lost in her own thoughts that she nearly stumbled on the hem of her dress, but Erik's fast hands caught her before she fell.
Blushing furiously, she sputtered, "Merci, monsieur," before he set her on her feet again. "Monsieur?"
"Oui, Christine?" he responded, dreading what she might be about to ask him.
"What may I call you? I mean . . . It feels awkward to continue to call you Voice. Have you a name that I may call you?"
Erik sighed, bemused. "You may call me Erik, my dear."
With a smile, she breathed out his name Erik.
After Christine had rested, Erik played for her one of his simpler compositions, and she gladly sang her part of the duet. He was so thoroughly lost in the song that he rose to walk towards her as he would if they were on stage.
She was clearly mesmerised by the sound of his voice, by his words . . . He placed a hand upon Christine's waist, his eyes burning into hers, fire and water meeting in their locked gaze. Their voices mingled even more gloriously than they ever had before!
She lifted one hand to caress his face, his mask. She could almost believe that could fall in love with this man . . . if he would only be honest with her! There were things she knew he refused to tell her, so many questions he had yet to answer, so many more that remained unasked. All he had told her was that his name was Erik, that it was a name he had come upon "by accident," and that she must not remove his mask.
That was the stipulation that he had stressed. She would remain perfectly safe in his company provided that she never attempted to remove that black material covering his face.
Her curiosity, unfortunately, was getting the better of her the longer they held each other captive in that impassioned gaze. The lure of the forbidden was too much for her to resist.
As soon as the slip of darkness had been stripped from his face, she regretted her action.
Christine let out a blood-curdling scream -
And was awakened by Erik rushing into her bedroom. "Christine, ange! What troubles you so, my dear?"
Quiet sobs racked her body as he whispered soothing sounds into her hair. "Oh, Erik!" she murmured at last. "Erik, mon ange, it was awful! I dreamed . . . I dreamed that I . . . removed your mask," she admitted feebly.
His heart sank.
"You were so angry! You screamed all manner of things at me and . . . and . . . You moved so fast, I couldn't even see you! You were like a shadow among shadows. It frightened me so much!" With that, her tears began anew. She silently vowed that she would never lay a hand on that mask, no matter how much she wanted to see the face hidden behind it. She would prove herself trustworthy; then, perhaps, he would show her his face of his own accord.
Erik contemplated Christine's dream/nightmare as he prepared a late supper for the two of them. She had been afraid of his anger, but she hadn't seen his face. 'A shadow among shadows, she said. Yes, I have been a shadow living down here in the shadows,' he thought wryly. He knew that she could not possibly be ready to see his true face, not yet.
He had a funny feeling that she might be ready sooner than he'd anticipated, though. With a pensive sigh, he set out bread, cheese, fruit, and wine.
"What troubles you, Erik?" Christine ventured in between bites. 'He seems so lonely. Like I used to feel before he came into my life.'
"Your dream," he admitted. "Do you often have nightmares?"
"Only sometimes. Do you?"
The room seemed to darken with her query. "Yes," was all he cared to say on the matter.
Despite her repeated attempts at conversation, she couldn't get him to say much about anything. She finally gave up when she realised how difficult it was for him to eat while wearing the mask; it wasn't impossible, just a bit of a hindrance when he had to keep adjusting it so it wouldn't fall off.
He sent Christine off to bed and made her promise she would remain in her room until he called her for breakfast in the morning. He would not admit to her that he had to head above ground to take care of business that could never be conducted during the light of day.
Once he'd returned from his nightly jaunt, Erik ventured a look into Christine's bedroom. She was fast asleep, as he'd hoped. How many times had he spent silent vigil behind the mirror, watching, keeping guard upon her slumbering form, ensuring that no lecherous stage-hand attempted to violate that pristine state?
Now, the only dangers to her were from himself . . . and his little secret in the locked room. But that room was well hidden behind a tapestry. The only other entrance was through his bedroom, and he had no intention of allowing Christine in there! At least, not any time in the near future.
Christine couldn't sleep. She could hear Erik bustling about in the other rooms, and she wanted to talk to him, to ask him questions. But he'd said she'd had a long day and should rest. An exasperated sigh escaped her lips as she attempted to find a comfortable position. If she could fall asleep, even for a little while, maybe she could calm the erratic thoughts coursing through her mind and -
The sound of her door being eased open nearly made her jump out of her skin! She heard a soft sigh from the doorway, but Erik did not approach her or even speak. She kept her breathing steady and slow as she tried to keep from appearing as nervous as she actually was.
'Please, say something, Erik. Come in and talk to me. Let me hear your voice,' she silently pleaded to him from her pillows. 'Just say anything and it will calm my excited heart!'
Just as she was about to turn towards him and invite him to sit with her for a while, she heard the door shut. Why had he opened her door? Had he only wanted to make sure she was still there? Had he intended something to happen if he'd found her awake? How many times had he watched her sleep before? she wondered. And why would he do such a thing?
A hand fluttered to her forehead. 'More questions to keep me up all night. Is it even night? Or is it now morning? Does time even matter here?' She finally drifted off to sleep when she realised that she didn't care what time or even what day it was in the outside world; all that mattered to her now was her Erik.