Author's Note: Thank you so much for supporting this story so far. I'm now back at work, so updates might be a little slower, but hopefully still quite regular.

I hope you enjoy this new chapter. Thanks for reading.

Chapter Thirteen: Poor Wandering One

1.

For most of his life, Erik had been alone. And although it had caused him the occasional ache over the years, he had long since accepted that this was how he was destined to live.

He had never dreamed that someone like Christine would come into his life. And even now, he could not quite believe she was real. He had been so sure she would turn and flee after hearing his story, but three weeks later she was still here, still by his side.

They had assumed a courtship, of sorts. They found a coffee shop closer to the theatre, with a less suspicious proprietor, and spent hours talking about music and all sorts of other things. She told him about her life at the Opera, which sounded like the most remarkable of buildings, with its honeybees kept in a hive on the roof, and fish swimming in its underground lake. And in between the bees and the fish, there was a library. Erik found it difficult to believe that a theatre could have its own library. He longed to visit it someday.

Christine also told him about the colourful characters who inhabited the Opera House. There was Carlotta, the temperamental diva who had been jealous of Christine's voice even though she possessed an excellent instrument of her own. There was the mysterious 'Persian', a patron who always sat in the same box on the Grand Tier. And there were the managers, Richard and Moncharmin, who sounded even more incompetent than Gerard, if that were possible.

She did not speak of Raoul.

Occasionally, Erik wondered about the man whom he almost considered a rival, even though he was in the past. What had really happened between him and Christine? What had he done to drive her away from such a magical place?

Erik dared not ask, and fortunately he soon forgot about Raoul, because there was simply too much else to think about.

On Sunday mornings, just after dawn, Christine would meet him outside the music hall, and they would go for a walk in the park while most of the city still slept. They continued with his singing lessons, but now those hours seemed even more precious, and they would often sing duets for the simple, magnificent pleasure of hearing their voices entwined.

It all felt too good to be true. Erik found his moods lurching between extreme joy, and dread that it would all be snatched away.

So he sang, and walked, and drank coffee with Christine, and he tried to imagine that this would last forever.

2.

"What can I say?" said Gerard, beaming. "Tonight was a triumph! An absolute triumph!"

"Thank you," said Christine, smiling. It had indeed been a good show. Erik had premiered a new illusion involving a fake river and flying fish, and they had performed a new love duet. She was still trembling from the applause.

It was almost a month since Erik had made his debut as a singer, and word had quickly spread. People were coming from miles around to see this 'Masked Nightingale' for themselves, and the music hall had been full every night. Christine was proud, but Erik remained self-effacing. Fame seemed to hold little interest for him.

He would be waiting for her as usual, onstage next to the piano, a perpetual and dedicated student. But she had run into Gerard on the way back from her dressing room, and the impresario was typically gushing in his praise. He was difficult to shake off when he was in this sort of mood.

"We're going out to celebrate tonight," said Gerard. "The entire company. Just across the street for a drink. Please say you'll join us."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Gerard. I can't. I have to see Erik. We're rehearsing a new aria tonight…"

Gerard clicked his tongue. "I don't know. All work and no play. Why not come just for one night? What's the harm? Maybe you can persuade our shy song bird to come too. It might even be fun."

Christine smiled. She quite liked the idea of getting to know her fellow performers a little better, in a more social setting. But then she tried to picture Erik in a tavern, surrounded by drunken revellers, and winced.

"All right, I'll try. But I'm not sure he'll agree."

3.

Erik folded his arms. "No."

Christine sighed. "Oh, Erik, why ever not? What harm will it do?"

"What harm?" He blinked at her. "You should know by now that I don't like crowds."

"It's not a crowd. They're all people you know. People from the theatre."

"I don't know them."

"Well, perhaps this would be a good opportunity to get to know them."

"Why? I have absolutely no interest in their affairs."

Christine threw up her hands in a hopeless gesture. "Erik. For a young man, you really are the most extraordinary - what's that English word? - curmudgeon."

He glowered at her. "I am not."

"All right." She smiled. "Prove it."

"Christine, I'm not going to a dirty, crowded alehouse."

She was silent for a moment. Then she rose from the piano stool. "Very well. I'll go by myself."

"What?" His eyes went wide. "You can't do that."

"Watch me."

"You can't go to a tavern by yourself, Christine. It might be dangerous."

"Nonsense!" She draped her cloak around her shoulders. "But if you really think so, perhaps you should come with me. Just to make sure everything's all right."

He stared at her, evidently perplexed, and gave a groan. "So you're leaving me with no choice."

"Of course you have a choice, Erik. Come with me, or stay here, alone, wondering if I've been kidnapped by pirates."

He glared at the floor and muttered something under his breath.

"Pardon?" said Christine.

"I said, 'fine'. I'll come with you. But just for one drink."

"Wonderful." She offered him her arm. "Shall we?"

4.

Christine was greeted with a small cheer as she stepped across the threshold of the tavern. She saw Gerard and Sorelli and the rest of the company gathered around several circular tables.

She smiled and waved to them, and then glanced over her shoulder at the large, dark shadow that was lingering in the doorway. "Erik?"

He stepped forward, shyly, into the light.

The company fell silent, staring at him, and for a moment Christine wondered if this had been a horrible mistake. But then they smiled, and gave another cheer.

"Erik!"

"Come in, Erik."

"Sit here…"

Christine hid a smile. Apparently, Erik was going to be tonight's guest of honour. His arrival seemed to have caused a small sensation.

Spare chairs were found, and the performers shuffled aside to make room for Christine and Erik.

Gerard grinned at them. "What can I get you to drink? Miss Daae?"

"Gin please," said Christine. Beside her, Erik gave a small intake of breath.

"Erik?"

"Beer, thank you."

Gerard wandered over to the bar, swaying ever so slightly.

Erik leaned towards Christine's ear. "They're all staring at me. What should I do?"

"Just relax. Talk to them."

Gerard returned with their drinks, sloshing some beer across the table as he placed the pint glass in front of Erik.

"So…we need to have a little chat. About the future. Because I think you could be really, really big. I think we could extend your act, tour it…even take it across the Atlantic…"

Erik visibly tensed at the impresario's words. "I don't think so."

"Oh, c'mon," slurred Gerard. "You saying you don't want to be famous?"

"No. I don't."

"But surely Miss Daae wants to be famous?" He looked at Christine with slightly unfocused eyes.

"Perhaps we should talk about this another time, Gerard," said Christine, as kindly as she could.

Gerard straightened up. "Of course, forgive me. Tonight shouldn't be about business. We're here to enjoy ourselves…" He raised his glass. "To the Grand Music Hall!"

The door banged open, admitting a blast of cool air. And then a familiar voice said: "Well, aren't you all one big, happy family?"

Christine turned to see the magician, Robert, standing in the doorway. He looked pale, his mouth set in a thin, grave line. His eyes gleamed.

She glanced at Gerard, who was still standing, glass raised. The smile fell from his face. "Robert. What are you doing here?"

"Last time I looked, this was still my local," said Robert, taking a step towards the table. "Mind if I join you?"

Before anyone could reply, Robert had slipped into the empty seat opposite Erik.

Christine felt a cold finger of fear run down her spine.

"Erik," said Robert, bearing his teeth in an unpleasant smile. "How nice to see you here. I do hope you're behaving yourself."

"What do you want, Robert?" Erik's tone was one of barely contained menace, and suddenly Christine wanted nothing more than to get him out of there, away from the other magician.

"Oh, nothing, nothing. Just my job back. The job that you stole from me."

Christine touched Erik's arm. "We should go."

Robert looked at her and grinned. "Ah, if it isn't the delectable Miss Daae. Tell me, what is it that you and Erik get up to every night after the performance? I hope he knows how to keep his hands to himself-"

Christine watched in horror as Erik surged to his feet, grabbed Robert by the lapels of his coat, and pushed him against the wall.

"How dare you!" Erik growled. "How dare you talk to her that way?"

Shocked by this sudden violence, Christine put out a trembling hand. "Erik, let him go. It's not worth it."

Erik tightened his grip on Robert's coat. Robert gave a harsh laugh. "See what sort of man this is? He's little better than a common thief. Stab you in the back as soon as look at you. Tell me, would an honest man hide his face?"

Then, in a lightning fast movement which could only come from a magician, Robert's hand shot forward and plucked the mask from Erik's face.

At was as if all the air had been sucked from the room. The company had gone completely still and silent, staring at Erik.

Christine felt herself grow cold.

Erik's face was a skull with thin, yellowish skin and sharp cheekbones, a twisted upper lip exposing his teeth. His beautiful golden eyes were sunken, surrounded by dark shadows. In all the time she had spent with him, Christine had never imagined he would look anything like this.

Erik looked at the company, looked at Gerard, and then turned his gaze towards Christine.

His eyes went wide with horror, and the remaining colour drained from his sallow cheeks.

With a cry of rage and pain, Erik threw Robert to the floor, flung up his hands to cover his face, and dived out of the tavern.

There was a moment of horrible, appalled silence. Christine could not bring herself to move, or speak.

Then the company burst into shocked chatter.

"Good God," said Gerard, shaking his head. "I never even dreamt…"

"You see?" said Robert, from his position on the floor. He was still holding Erik's mask. "Didn't I warn you about that…that thing?"

Christine looked down at the magician, and felt her rage boil over.

"Erik is not a thing!" she cried, looming over him. "You evil little man! How could you do this to him?"

She snatched the mask from Robert's hand, and hurried out of the tavern in pursuit.

5.

Erik threw the suitcase onto the couch and undid the clasps with shaking hands. He grabbed his clothes from the rail and stuffed them inside. He tore the sheets of music from the walls and dropped them on top of the clothes. Then he turned to the books, frantically collecting them from the floor.

But there were too many books, far too many, more than would ever fit in the suitcase…

With a cry of frustration, Erik threw a book across the room. It bounced off the wall and fell open on the floor. He stared at the discarded book, and suddenly it was all too much.

He sank onto the couch, next to the open suitcase, and began to sob.

Why did this always have to happen? Why did he always have to flee? Why was he always met with hatred, wherever he went?

He kept picturing Christine's face, pale with horror. He couldn't bear the thought of seeing that face again.

He didn't have to. He would leave the theatre before Christine and the others returned, before they could hound him out.

But, for now, he wept.

6.

Christine's first thought was to go to the theatre. She was convinced Erik must have gone home, to the place he felt safe. She hurried up the stairs to the attic, dreading what she might find.

The door to his room stood open, and horrible, racking sobs were coming from inside. Her heart ached at the sound.

She stepped cautiously into the room, and there he was.

Erik had curled into a ball on the couch. He was hugging his knees and rocking backwards and forwards, his face concealed by his folded arms. A suitcase lay open beside him, with clothes and books and sheet music shoved messily inside.

She took a tentative step towards him. "Erik?"

He gave a gasp, and wrapped his arms more tightly around his face.

"No…leave me alone…"

Christine swallowed a sob, shaken by his distress. She had never seen him like this, not even in the grip of stage fright.

"Erik, it's Christine."

"Go away!" The voice was raw, furious, but everything in his posture spoke of fear.

She went down on her knees in front of his quivering form, and placed a hand on his arm. He flinched.

"Sssh…" she said. "Erik, sssh…please don't be afraid. It's all right."

He shook his head. Another sob caused his shoulders to hitch. "No, it's not all right. It'll never be all right, not while I look like this…"

"Erik, look at me."

"No…"

"Look at me. Please."

A heartbeat of silence, and then Erik slowly raised his head.

The pale skin around his eyes was raw from weeping, his sunken cheeks damp with tears. His eyes were haunted. He looked ghastly, and not because of his strange face. And it was strange, there was no doubt of that. Not ugly, exactly, but very different from anything she had ever seen before. Seeing those beautiful eyes gazing out from this new, unfamiliar face was unsettling, as if he was wearing another mask.

"Happy now?" he spat. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You're just the same as the rest of them. Perhaps I should charge you for a private showing."

The words were cruel, designed to drive her away. She stayed where she was.

"Please don't talk like that."

He regarded her warily. "What do you want from me, Christine?"

"To see if you're all right."

"Well, as you can see, I've never been better. And now that you're reassured, perhaps you would be good enough to leave me alone?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Why won't you just leave me, Christine?"

She glanced at the suitcase. "I'm afraid that if I do, I'll never see you again. You'll take your luggage and vanish into the night."

He sighed. "That's the plan."

"Why?" She tried to keep her voice gentle.

"Because…because you saw how they all looked at me, Christine. Like I was…disgusting. And then there's Gerard. He practically had pound signs dancing in his eyes. Now he knows what I look like, he'll want me to perform without the mask."

She sat next to him on the couch, and placed a hand gently on his back. "You don't know that."

"It's what always happens." He gave another shuddering sob.

"Can't you at least wait until the morning? If Gerard suggests anything, we can talk to him together. Please, Erik. Just give it some time. Sleep on it. The company might surprise you."

He laughed harshly. "I doubt it. And I don't think I could sleep."

"Why? You look exhausted."

"What if they come and throw me out? It's happened before."

Christine stared at him in horror. She couldn't believe anyone would drive Erik from his home. But he sat on the couch, pale with fear, shivering, and she knew she would have to believe him, whether the threat was real or not.

"Then I'll stay."

"You'll…what?" His eyes widened with astonishment.

"I'll stay with you tonight. All night. I'll sit by the door."

"You'd do that?" His voice was small. "You'd stay with me?"

"Yes, Erik. I'll stay if you promise not to do anything…reckless…before the morning. No disappearing without a word."

"You'll stay with me…" A tear leaked from his eye and ran down his cheek. He brushed it away with a trembling hand.

"I'm here, Erik." She wrapped her arm around him, pulling him close. "I'm not going anywhere."

7.

An hour later, he was asleep, his face turned towards the back of the couch, away from her.

Christine looked at this strange man, so hardened by the world and yet so vulnerable, and felt a surge of fierce, protective love. In that moment, she vowed to herself that she would do everything in her power to keep him from being hurt again. The strength of this feeling both frightened and surprised her, but her mind was made up. If Gerard tried to exploit him, he would have to face her first.

Erik moaned fitfully in his sleep, his long fingers clutching the thin blanket. Christine looked around for something else to cover him with, and her gaze alighted on the clothes rail, where one item still remained.

Christine removed the cloak of feathers from its hanger and draped it over Erik's sleeping form.

Then she sat down in a chair beside the door, and waited for the theatre to wake up.