An Author's Note: This is my very first fanfiction ever. I was very timid about entering this world but after reading some stellar short stories based on the 1990 Phantom of the Opera mini series I felt so inspired to scribe my own- only in that I didn't want for their stories to end. I borrow largely particularly from TheBatgirl31 and Clever Lass as I loved their set-ups and if you want a far superior read, I highly recommend going and reading their stories first:

Special Guest - The Batgirl31

Denouement - Clever Lass

I'm considering this a one-off for now with a potential for more if people like what they read. I certainly enjoyed writing it and wouldn't mind continuing on with these characters. The set-up, similarly to TheBatgirl31 and Clever Lass's stories take place after Christine's performance at the bistro and likewise, gets assaulted on her way home and is rescued by Erik. Where my version diverges is how they interact afterwards- what I love about these characters is what they don't say to each other and I tried my best to focus on that aspect more particularly than narrative.

So please enjoy my story. Apologies if I've stepped on anyone's toes. Your work inspired me to do something I've never done before and it's very powerful and I'm truly grateful for the work you've done.

The night had been a success. The crowd erupted into a wave of applause after a moment of stunned silence due to her performance. Suddenly she was not the mousy waif who no one paid much attention to but now was commanding the room as though she were an established Prima Donna like Carlotta- which drove Carlotta mad with jealousy.

Hours passed in gaiety as drinks swilled around the room and the Count de Chagny toured her around as though to take full credit for discovering her.

Erik spent the time waiting in the dark alleyway waiting for Christine to brighten the exit, too much in ecstasy of her performance to notice the time. He wished to greet her and let her know that he had been there and how proud her was of her.

She could have drank the entire contents of the bistro and it still would have pailed to the swimming bliss she was experiencing. She remembered her Maestro. Oh she had to rush home and tell him all about it!

She pressed up to Philippe's arm and informed him that she would be going home. "Alright, I'll bring around my coach," he offered.

"Oh no, Philippe, please. I wish to go by myself. This night was fantastic but I think the air will do me good. It's only a short walk.."

After some protestations from Philippe, Christine was finally able to convince him to let her go alone. A crowd of people left from the bistro at the same time as her and bared Erik from noticing her heading off into the opposite direction.

The night air was the perfect cure to her intoxication and she whirled in the streets and hummed audibly to herself, completely unaware of anything going around her.

As she passed a dark corridor an arm reached out and grabbed her, jolting her from her reverie. The clasp on her arm was strong and rough. Her gaze followed it up to its owner whom she did not recognize.

"Evening Miss- and where are we going this evening in such a happy mood, eh?" An ugly grin stretched across a leathery, stubbled face.

Another person ascended from the shadows. "I don't know 'bout you but looks like we've got a fan of the Opera, don't we dear?" the second one chuckled.

"Why don't you come along with us and give us a little performance since you are such a little songbird?"

These two strangers had observed Christine walking alone in the night in her radiant white dress. Seeing how she was unattended they decided to take advantage of the situation. They pulled her into the dark and wet alley way, Christine screaming voicelessly from shock.

"Seems she's lost her voice, eh friend?" one said to the other, "ah no matter! I'm sure we can find other things to do!" It was then that Christine found her voice and let out a shrill scream which her training allowed her to project. A sudden smack to the face and then a dirty hand clasped across her nose and mouth, making it hard for her to breathe.

"One more outburst like that and we're gonna have to move a little faster on our intentions." The second one approached her with a knife as his companion held her tightly. Her eyes widened. Her perpetrator ran it down one side of her face causing her to bleed.

"Such a lovely dress. I'm going to hate having to ruin it like this." The blade moved down towards her chest and tore along the front followed by the ripping by hands across her corset. The air chilled then burned her heated flesh as a hand gracelessly fondled her breast. Tears ran down her face.

"I think I'm going to have to claim these as my own." The two men laughed. The one with the blade fixed to carve his initials in her chest.

Suddenly, the light from the street lamp was blocked out by the approach of a tall, commanding figure draped in a cloak. Christine's eyes tightened against the nightmare unfolding before her, uncertain if she would be rescued or not.

First the sound of metal hitting the pavement, followed by a grunt and a few short groans perpetuated by succinctly delivered blows. The arms that kept her captive released her as her captor lept to attack this third person assaulting his partner.

He was dealt with in an equally swift and violent manner before the dark figure turned and faced Christine. Fear ran through her mind and she suddenly lost consciousness and collapsed to the ground.

Erik approached her and knelt down. He took her chin in his hands as he examined the wounds on her face and then down towards- his pupils dilated upon discovery and Erik quickly removed his cloak and wrapped it about Christine, concealing her. He packed her into his arms and fled back to the Opera house via dark passages and alleyways, leaving behind the two perpetrators, of whom one would not be restored to consciousness.

Christine awoke to find herself lying on a bed draped in dark red satin sheets. Realizing that she didn't know where she was she shot up with a start. She looked around frantically. Books, wooden shelves, candles, musical instruments. She looked down and found herself wearing a dark cloak. Her heart stopped as breath struggled to find its way out of her open mouth.

Clinging the cloak tightly around her, she made steps from the bed towards a door where the sound of water seemed to be coming from. She pushed it open a peak.

Erik was on the other side and noticed her immediately. His eyes shot up and bade her come inside. He was knelt down over a bath tub, holding a metal bucket in his hands. His sleeves were rolled up revealing to Christine to the first time his muscular strength.

"I'm preparing a bath for you," Erik said in a strained and awkward tone. Christine wordlessly looked about the room which appeared to be a toilette. No mirrors. She returned her gaze back to the centre of the room where Erik waited expectantly with tin pail in his hands, waiting for her to speak. He straightened himself out and stepped towards her. The cloak around her tightened still as she pulled it in closer.

"Ah..I'll leave you..here to wash," Erik stammered. "I'll be right outside if you need me." And he exited the room without looking at her further.

He let out a big breath inside his bedroom and stared back at the door, embarrassed by their exchange.

Christine stepped cautiously towards the tub and looked once more around the room before letting the cloak fall about her shoulders. She slid it off and placed it on a chair close by. The remains of her tattered dress followed as she lay it on top.

She stepped into the bath. The water was warm and soapy. As she looked down at herself she saw dried blood on her chest. She suddenly felt the physical pain inflicted on her from her memory and gasped.

Erik stalked the room for something to occupy his mind. He resolved to sit at his desk with his back turned away from the bathroom door and compose a few letters he would address to Cholet with his newest demands. He set the quill to his paper but found himself stopped by the sound of water splashing.

He was not accustomed to the sound of any other person within his home, making sounds- and especially not the sound of just anyone- but Christine Daaé- bathing herself just on the other side of his wall. His mind saw a brief visual before shaking it out of his head.

He shot up from his chair and helped himself to a shot of brandy. His eyes scanned the room once more for something else to distract himself with before settling his gaze upon his flute. Perfect! He thought to himself. Playing some music would relax him and probably Christine as well.

The sound of a sweet chirping melody permeated the room and floated into the lavatoire. Christine heard it and found herself more at ease as she drew a sponge across her arm.

She tried to think of something else other than her nightmare. The bistro- yes- how happy she was, how proud. Philippe brimming widely, multiple toasts in her name- but the only person she really wanted to see who wasn't there was her Maestro. She yearned to see him and throw her arms around him in gratitude. Perhaps his awkward arms would find their way to reciprocating her physical act of affection.

Her eyes caught sight of her shredded dress on the chair. The sheen from the material still made it look beautiful. The memory of her murderous assailants flooded back and her face fell. The dress she had been leant was ruined and she frowned as she thought about the sentimental value it must have possessed. Why would he have a dress, who could it have once belonged to?

It was then that she realized that Maestro would have seen her in a state of undress and at that her ears tingled as her face crimsoned. How would she ever be able to face him again, she panicked.

It was then that she heard a knock at the door startling her out of her deep thought. She hadn't noticed that she had stopped bathing and was now sitting in rapidly cooling water. Erik became concerned when he noticed the sound of the water swishing had ceased for what seemed too long a period.

"Christine? Are you alright in there?" He asked softly from the other side. Christine instinctively made a move to cover herself with her arms as best she could.

"Uh, yes, Maestro-" she felt awkward acknowledging him this way now, recognizing his status over her. "I'm just finishing up. I'll be right out."

Christine towelled off and looked about the room for something to change into. There was nothing other than her tattered dress and Erik's cloak. She let out a heated sigh and redressed herself in his dark velvet.

Erik was surprised to see her emerge still wearing his cloak. "Christine- you do not any longer have to wear my things."

"The dress...it was ruined...I had nothing other to change into." Christine offered demurely.

Oh how could he be such a dolt! Of course! Erik raised a finger in the air and disappeared briefly before returning with yet another white dress.

"Oh Maestro- I can't. Not after what happened to the other one you leant me...I feel so ashamed."

"Well you can't very well stay as you are. What shall I wear when I need to go out?" He said with a note of humour in his voice. "Now go put this on and we can go to my sitting room for some warm tea and discuss your triumph."

Christine took the dress with trepidation and went behind some blinds to dress herself. Erik kept his back turned. She re-emerged looking like a perfect doll.

"See? That's much better!" Erik said with a smile. Christine saw his gaze upon her and felt as though he could see through her clothing. She looked to the floor and fidgeted. Sensing her tension, Erik offered her his arm and hoped he could distract her from her embarrassed feelings.

He guided her out of the room to what seemed to be the outdoors- except they weren't outdoors at all. They were in some kind of vault. They ascended what appeared to be a rocky hill where a number of rooms existed scattered about like a village. Some were connected to each other, some stood alone. Some had stairways to second floors.

Christine was finally able to absorb her surroundings and her eyes widened as she looked around, anywhere but at Erik. She looked so much like a wondering child to him and his chest warmed to the thought of her innocence.

He explained his habitat to her- that he had constructed his home over years using discarded stage scenery and furnishings replaced by renovations to the opera house over the years. He had grown quite skilled as a master architect in addition to his many other talents.

"The opera house? So does this mean we're still inside it?" Christine mused to him.

"Close. We're below it. In the sewers. I've elected to live here in solitude. I cared little for the world that exists above...until I heard your voice."

Christine had always thought of her Maestro as a mysterious teacher kept on retainer by Philippe for her lessons. She thought it strange when he demanded she tell no one of their sessions, not even Philippe- especially not Philippe! But now she was learning that there was perhaps more to this man who chose to live in the sewers and wondered at her own safety even though she had trusted Erik fully to that point.

They arrived at a room at the top of the hill with French doors and frosted glass windows. He ushered her inside ahead of him. The room was warm with furnishings, like the other one they departed. This room however had a large fireplace, already aflame and a few chairs and a love-seat. He bade her sit down on it and then handed her a brandy.

"This will help with the pain." Erik explained, still cognizant of her fresh injuries. She took it from him graciously and sipped lightly, her eyes remaining downcast.

He sat next to her and noticed her flinch as her arms moved across themselves protectively. Erik noticed this and decided to proceed head on.

"Christine? Is there anything the matter? Have I done something to upset you?"

Christine's lip trembled. "Oh no, Maestro- you've been wonderful- I can't thank you enough for saving me and showing me hospitality...but," she tried to steady herself before proceeding. "I'm just so embarrassed. I'm embarrassed by the dress, I'm embarrassed by being attacked, I'm embarrassed by- you seeing me in a compromising way-" she said choosing her words delicately. "I've only known you as my Maestro up until this point and I'm uncertain of how to face you now with this- this between us. I can't, I just can't!" She began to cry. "Sorry! You must think me a fool!"

Erik looked at her compassionately. He pulled her chin gently towards looking at his face. "Christine- it's true that I saw you in a moment of vulnerability but your virtue is my prime concern and you should know that I've already blotted the memory from my mind. Would you instead have preferred to have been left to your captors and possibly..killed?" That last word echoed through Erik's mind as he pondered the possibility of losing Christine to such a terrible fate. His jaw hardened as his gaze became lost in thought. "I don't know what I would do Christine..I would be so lost. I would prefer to leave this hell down on earth to join you up in heaven if the heavens admitted demons."

Christine softened a bit upon seeing Erik's genuine care for her. Carefully, she extended her arm towards Erik's arm and touched him, jerking him out of his unpleasant thoughts.

"Maestro. I've been a fool. Thank you. Thank you for everything."

For the first time ever, Erik returned her affectionate touch with his hands, laying one on top of hers, and squeezed.