She thought about him more than she wanted. Even after knowing he had lied to her about nearly everthing. Even after becoming aware of what the mask hid. She tried to tell herself that she should be glad he was gone. His horrific face was no longer her problem...she would never see it again. Better to be with someone safe and normal. His criminal behavior would not be an issue for them...she wouldn't have to feel guilty being involved with a man who killed for a living.

She honestly tried to put him from her mind. It made no sense whatsoever to her. Why choose a mask and a mystery. A killer? But as she tried to forget him, she found out it was impossible to do. Each day merged into the next, moving forward with a lack of purpose and objective. His violin was tucked up close to her bed, where her gaze fell on it often during the nights which were sleepless. And there were more of those than she cared to admit to herself.

She dreamed of that night over and over again. The dreams were vivid and terrifying, the blood and death starting their mind games almost as soon as she closed her eyes. But always, the terror led her to a better place...safe in his arms. And then...she would wake. Alone. Angry with him and herself, she placed the violin on a shelf out of sight...and felt no better. Where are you, Erik?

Finally, the first week of October arrived, and with it cooler weather. The fall days were idyllic. Deep blue skies, the air clear and crisp, the trees wearing their bright mantle of autumnal colors. None of which she paid much attention to. She smiled a lot and laughed often, telling herself she was better off without him. After all, he wasn't around for very long, was he? No sweat, right? She spent many evenings on dates with men she barely knew; throwing herself into fun with a vengeance. But those around her weren't fooled.

Elizabeth Valerius had been initially relieved when Erik Reauchard left. He was too different and alien, not to mention the difference in their ages. There was also his questionable past to consider. But she didn't doubt Christine's deep affection for him anymore. Hide it though she tried, Elizabeth knew how she suffered these past months. Hopefully with time, it would all fade.

Meg had got her friend to open up a few times, and in her opinion, Christine was skirting the issue. One warm afternoon, they sat on the patio and Meg had broached the subject. Delicately...for her. She looked at her friend as she ran a brush through Lucy's black hair.

"Do you think you'll ever hear from him again, Chris?"

She never looked up, but laughingly exhorted the little dog to stop wiggling. "Who, Meggie?"

"Who the hell do you think, Christine? You know...the man you're head over heels in love with? That ring a bell, friend?"

She answered her willingly enough, but her voice had changed. She sounded weary and tense. "Love? What makes you think that?" She shrugged and went on brushing Lucy. "We were friends while he was here...that's all. Then he got mixed up in that mess the night of the masquerade and took off. End of story."

"Oh, really? That's it, huh?" Meg leaned forward in her chair and studied her friend closely. "If that's all it is, then why do you always clam up when someone mentions Erik's name? Admit to yourself anyway, that you're pissed at him for leaving. Then ask yourself why." She had risen to her feet and looked at her friend as Christine's movements stilled and she stared sightless at the concrete floor. "Chris..."

"Uh uh, Meg. No more. He's gone, okay? If he cared so damned much for me, I think I would have heard from him by now. It was over before it began." She regarded Meg with accusing eyes. "Besides...you're the one that thought he was a little strange. Remember? Why do you keep bringing him up? Just let it alone, all right?" she muttered.

Meg threw her hands up in defeat. "Okay, okay. I give up. Stay stubborn and miserable then. But, Chris. Maybe he's afraid you don't want to see him. Or maybe he figures you're better off without him...you know...all noble and self-sacrificing." Another dirty look from her friend and she wisely changed the subject. Christine continued to do her best to prove how happy she wasn't, but Meg had watched the two of them together and thought she was being very bull headed.

So she visited often, trying her level best to lend support to her friend and extending an invitation to talk anytime she needed to. Christine did want someone to talk with, but he was thousands of miles away and for all intents and purposes, out of her life for good. Raoul at first had been a frequent visitor. He had tried to interest her in a trip to Lancaster and a picnic at the state park, and she went with him, but their outings had been lackluster and stilted. He had been patient with her, but mourning a killer who had simply disappeared from her life, made him lash out finally.

"Why can't you see what he really is, Christine? He murders people for God's sake!" He dropped his voice as if Reauchard was somewhere in the room listening in. "His face. How can you want to look at that again?"

The anger that was never far from the surface rose up at his contempt for Erik, and before she could stop herself, she was once again defending him. "You weren't exactly friends, Raoul," she snapped. "In fact, I'd have to say you pretty much despised him!" She immediately felt ashamed. He didn't deserve her anger, only her gratitude. "I'm sorry...that's not fair. You and Philippe have been great."

"I know what he is and...and it does bother me, but he's not as black as you make him out to be." She looked at him with steady eyes and insisted, "He's not."

It wasn't that she didn't acknowledge the facts of which he spoke. And of course he was right; Erik's face had been in the forefront of her mind; endlessly it seemed. Seeing it for the first time that night had shocked her, but his absence since then had robbed the moment of its power.

What she had come to realize over time, was how isolated he must have been over the years because of it. His deformity and the reactions of people had shaped him into the man he's become. It amazed her that he could feel any tender emotions at all, but he had. His care and gentleness with her proved it.

Besides, she had come to know the man behind that face a little. She didn't claim to understand him completely; she knew there was darkness in him. She had been a witness to it. It was like jumping off the end of a pier blindfolded and not knowing what the landing will be. But there was much good there.

He watched her, searching for any sign that she was over Reauchard and not seeing any. He walked over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "He's gone, Christine," he said quietly.

"I know," she whispered. "Thanks for caring about me, Ray. It means a lot. Heck, we've been friends practically forever, but I need to work through this. Okay?"

He sighed then kissed her cheek, watching her closely. "You really do love him, don't you? In spite of everything," he said in disbelief.

Christine said nothing for a moment. Meg had tried to get her to admit it, but she hadn't wanted to face it just then. She was angry with him for leaving and simply dropping out of her life the way he had. But now after hearing it from another of her friends, she finally had to face the truth. "Yeah, I do."

Raoul left after that and she'd seen less of him over the following weeks. There was work in town to go to, and the apartments to look after with Mamma, and despite admitting love for her masked man, things were no better. Life had become curiously empty wothout him, and she remained in limbo; working herself up into doing something about it, but not knowing what. Shortly after the masquerade, she had insisted to Mamma that she would clean the Reynold's apartment by herself after Erik left, and that's when she found the large bottle of Dazzling perfume tucked into the bedside drawer. She had held the bottle to her chest and shed a few more tears. Did you buy it the day I told you it was my favorite? Were you going to give it to me after the ball? Erik...

She lay in bed that night remembering their last moments together. She cringed when she thought of her reaction to his masked face. He had deserved much better from her, and what he received was far from it. If only she could have that moment back. One thing was at last very clear to Christine. Regardless of his face and sordid past- she loved him. But he left her with so little explanation. Erik seemed to be under the misapprehension that he wasn't good enough for her. Was that it? Ha! I should be the judge of that, dear one.

These thoughts continually chased each other over and over in her mind until she felt like screaming. Then one day Philippe showed up at the house. She hadn't seen him since that night nearly three months ago, and she was curious as to why he was here now. Christine led him into the parlor, studiously ignoring the piano sitting forlornly in the corner of the room. He'd always been kind to her in a polite and distant way. He was older than her and Raoul, and he'd been absent a good deal as they grew up.

She gestured to a chair and offered some refreshment which he declined. She sat across from him and waited patiently for him to state his business.

"How have you been, kid?" he asked quietly.

She looked into his eyes and was surprised to see sympathy there. She snorted. "I've been better, Phil. How badly was he hurt?"

He smiled crookedly at her. "Cut right to the chase, don't you?" Philippe shrugged. "Bullet wounds are always serious, Christine." When she flinched, he hastened to add, "but he's a big boy- he can take care of himself. It wasn't by any means his first rodeo; he knew his way around a gun- not to mention what he could do with his bare hands," he muttered. He looked up quickly when Christine gasped, surprised she heard him. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that." He cleared his throat, then leaned forward. "I tried to see you after...well,after that night, but Elizabeth didn't think it was a good idea."

Christine nodded and her fingers went to the necklace at her throat and lightly touched the gold coin hanging there. She got to her feet and walked over to the grand. She lifted the fallboard and plinked out a C major scale. "I can't stop thinking about him," she whispered, looking at the keys and seeing his clever hands there.

"Then do something about it," he said simply.

She looked at him in surprise and abruptly sat down on the piano bench.

Philippe shook his head. "When I found out what he did to my brother...I wanted to kick his ass-' He sighed heavily and rubbed the back of his neck. "That day- what set him off? Raoul told me he just went nuts on him. Did he, Christine?"

She thought a moment. "Erik was upset, but when Ray called him a coward for hiding behind a mask, that's when he lost it."

Philippe nodded. "Well, that explains quite a bit then. My brother conveniently forgot that part. No wonder he was so angry. It doesn't excuse his behavior, but it's more understandable. He's miserable wherever he is. He sure as hell didn't want to leave you behind, and I think that's his biggest regret. You just may have brought out something decent in him."

She closed her eyes for a moment, then nodded. "I've known all along that he can be, if only given the chance, but he left me and I don't know why."

Philippe shook his head. "I don't know either, but I would lay money on his wanting to protect you from his past."

"It's not protecting I want from him, but it really doesn't matter, does it? He's not coming back here."

"Well then, the mountain must go to Muhammad, right? His former friend is in the Gettysburg prison being held for extradition to France." He paused and looked at her thoughtfully. "He might know how to go about finding Reauchard. I suggest that as a good place to start. Once you know for sure what's up with him, then you can put all this behind you."

"I'm grateful to you, Philippe. In more ways than one, but why do you care?"

He smiled wryly and shrugged. "Not really sure, but with that face, he hasn't had a lot of happiness I'm bettin'. I think you could change that for him. If you wanted to. And from what you're telling me- you do. Besides that, well...I learned to trust my instincts about the man next to me in a bad situation."

He got to his feet. "I trusted him...I would again, I think."

She smiled faintly for the first time since Philippe arrived. "Thank you, Phil. F-For everything."

"Go see Reauchard's friend, Christine."

And she decided. It was time for a visit.