Here is the conclusion…thanks to all who have been reading! This story was actually a first for me- normally I write an entire story before posting any of it, but this time I decided to experiment with posting it chapter by chapter as I completed each one. I have to say I'm pleased with how it worked out- hope you are too!

Christine lifted her head and craned to look at Erik, very surprised indeed.

"You did?" He nodded, unable to meet her eyes. He had to tell her. After what she had given him, she deserved at least to know. She deserved more.

"I took them off when you were asleep…I put them away. I was going to keep them." Erik felt miserable at the admission, glad as he was that he had made it.

"I'll get them for you," he blew out a breath and stirred as if to get up- but Christine flattened a hand on his chest, restraining him.

"I…well, I wasn't expecting that, but…" she took a deep, careful breath and looked down the length of their bodies, naked and wrapped up in each other on the bed. Two hours ago, one hour ago, she might have been offended at the theft of her stockings. Now…now that she considered…now it didn't seem so significant. It was rather odd that she hadn't felt anything, hadn't known…but then again, she had dreamed, hadn't she? Dreamed of something…the kind of nonspecific, pleasurable dream she usually associated with her Angel. Only…that time he had been actually touching her while she was dreaming it! She blinked and looked quickly back at his face, absorbing that shocking notion.

"You can keep them- if you take off your mask for a bit," she told him suddenly. He raised his head abruptly, horrified.

"Take…Christine, you have no idea! It would ruin everything! It is out of the question!" He sat up, shoved her away, and turned his back towards her, setting his feet on the floor. He had meant to stand up, but lost momentum there, and buried his face despairingly in both hands instead. It was over. She would insist on seeing his face, and if he showed her, she would be disgusted and afraid, and if he did not, she would be angry. There was no way out of this- darkness closed in around his heart like a fist. It was well and truly over.

"Erik…" Christine's voice was laden with sympathy, and he heard her stir on the bed behind him, but stubbornly did not turn. She came closer, and suddenly Erik felt her warm touch on his back, first a hand sliding up and down, then both arms embracing his waist and her body fitting flush against his, cheek resting on the back of his shoulder. She would notice the scars on his back and ribs now, if she hadn't already.

He was disgusting. How could he have thought an angel like Christine would love him? It didn't matter how much music he wrote for her; he could worship her in a hundred operas and he would still be a monster.

Behind him, Christine took a breath, and…sang.

"Angel of Music, guide and guardian, grant to me your glory."

Ha! Glory? But already Erik was finding that he couldn't hold onto bitterness in the face of Christine's gentle voice and equally gentle hands on his back. She had surely seen the scars by now, but she did not shrink from touching him. And she sang for him. Even now, his angel sang to him.

"Angel of Music, hide no longer. Come to me…"

She stopped then, cutting off the word "strange"- which was as she had sung it before. Instead she shifted onto her knees, kneeling behind him with her hands on his shoulders. She leaned forward, trying for a glimpse of his face.

"Beautiful…angel," she concluded, speaking, and when he finally lowered his hands and turned to her, leaned in a dropped a kiss on his lips.

Erik blinked, not sure what to make of this at all.

Christine, on the other hand, had an idea. And her first idea had been rather a good one, so…

"I tell you what…take your mask off and you can keep the whole thing. Well, after I get back to my room- I'll need something else to wear." She giggled, and Erik looked at her, aghast.

"The whole…what?"

"My…my gown, silly." Christine gestured towards the limp, lacy white pile on the floor that was the gown she had worn down here, then burst out laughing and collapsed back on the bed. It was either laugh or be horribly embarrassed at her own outrageous suggestion.

"I'm sorry…you don't have to. That was foolish." Recovering from her laughter, Christine turned on her side, facing Erik, and traced a finger once more over the skin of his back. Who had treated him so? She wanted to ask him, but not now. Not now, when she had maybe, almost, gotten him in a good mood again. At least maybe he could laugh with her at this. Give him her gown? How silly. What would he do with it?

Erik, on the other hand, was beginning to think this was not a foolish suggestion at all. Her stockings and the whole gown, in his collection? He could look at it any time, remember how her sweet curves filled it out, maybe even…ask her to wear it again? He hardly dared to think it, but her attitude did give him some tiny hope that maybe…maybe…and how had she expressed that bargain, exactly? Oh, yes…

"Done," he said suddenly, slapping a hand on the bedspread and spinning to face her. Surprised, she squeaked and laughed again.

"Oh…really, it was a silly idea, I just…I mean…my gown?" She half-sat up, shaking her head and feeling very pained, and Erik raised his eyebrows and gave her a smile that could only be interpreted as devilish.

"You suggested it…Angel." He shrugged mildly, as if it could not be helped, but the body-raking look he gave her was wicked. Christine's heart jumped, and she found herself wondering if there was any chance, any chance at all, that he'd touch her again.

"All right…I promise." Her words were faint, and he just sat there, clearly expecting a bit more, so she took a deep breath and tried again.

"I promise that if you take off you mask now, when we get back to my dressing room and I have something else to wear, I will give you the gown I came here in. I swear it on my father's soul. Good enough?" For a half-second she thought it might not be, but after a slight hesitation, Erik nodded.

"Yes. And I promise that if you will give me the gown you wore tonight- at an appropriate time, when you have other clothes available to you-" he added with a dry chuckle, seeing her start to object to wording that might be construed as wanting the gown now.

"-and allow me to keep the stockings which are already in my possession-" a deep smirk at that, remembering how he had peeled them off her inch by inch while she slept.

"- that I will take off my mask." He sounded almost like he was going to falter there, but went on.

"I swear it on…" And now he was really stymied. He had stopped believing in any kind of God long ago, and there was no person he loved enough to swear on, as Christine had sworn on the soul of her father. Well, except…

"I swear it on my love for you." The words fell suddenly into the silence between them. Christine caught her breath, a pleased smile breaking over her face. Erik dropped his gaze and shrugged sheepishly.

"It's all I have," he muttered- but then suddenly, Christine was leaning forward, taking him by the chin, and kissing him thoroughly. He would have been content to just lose himself in her again- but it was she who drew back.

She scooted backwards on the bed, till she was a couple of feet away from him, her legs curled modestly sideways, and took a deep breath. She felt like she was about to jump off a cliff.

"All right. I'm ready." Another deep breath, pushing down the nervousness in her belly. She crossed her arms over her breasts and regarded him expectantly.

Ready?

Oh, yes. The mask. Now? Already? If Erik had promised on anything else, he might have strongly considered going back on it. Even now he hoped wildly that she might release him of this obligation which had come up much too suddenly- but she just sat there, waiting.

And wondering. What was under the mask? Possibility after possibility ran through Christine's mind, each more wild than the last. Some kind of scarring? Something really horrible, like no skin at all and his white skull exposed? Something not even human, but scaled like a lizard's or furred like a beast? Blinding white light shining out, like an angel indeed? Perhaps…nothing at all, only empty space where the rest of his head should be?

Christine bit her lip and held her breath.

Erik shifted forward, raised a hand…

But it was not toward the mask at all. He leaned forward to the bedside table, and blew out the remaining candles in quick succession. Darkness, absolute, utter blackness such that Christine could not see even the silhouette of his body two feet away, let alone anything else, descended.

"Erik!" She squeaked, really and truly frightened for an instant. It was so dark it was almost as if the world had ceased to exist.

"I'm here, Angel." A large, warm hand touched her shoulder, and as they drew together, her heart slowed from its momentary trip-hammer swiftness.

"You…you said…" she protested feebly. Erik, she realized, was drawing back the blankets, and she willingly squirmed her legs under them, wanting to ward off the chill that suddenly seemed increased, too. She clung to Erik the whole time, and soon they were settled with the blankets over both their laps, their arms around each other.

"You said you'd take off your mask," she finally finished, accusingly. Erik, maddeningly, chuckled.

"Ah- I did, but you didn't say anything about dark or light, my dear." He paused, and then a dejected sigh issued from his direction.

"This is all I can give you, Christine. Please don't ask me for more. Not now." Promising to take off the mask- intending it to be in the dark- had seemed a mere lark a moment ago, but now melancholy threatened to overtake Erik again. There was still the possibility, even now, that she would be horrified.

But a promise was a promise.

Not to mention the gown.

He took another deep breath, steeling himself to lose everything- and dropped a final kiss on the top of her head.

"All right." He shifted a bit, there was a slight soft noise, but Christine, of course, could see nothing, and she was on his good side, away from whatever he might be doing to the masked side of his face. She strained her eyes into the inky black, but was not enlightened.

"Is it…?"

"Here." He found her hand and brought it up to his chin, unable to bring himself to place it anywhere the mask had actually covered. Christine, to his surprise, lifted her other hand, too, cupping his good cheek just as she had done before.

"All right." She felt terribly nervous again, butterflies flapping madly in her belly. His chin was as normal, of course, so was his other cheek- she began to slide her left hand up the right side with utmost gentleness.

"I don't feel anything." She had spoken a fraction too soon; a bit higher, and she did feel a difference in texture. Starting about level with the bottom of his nose, the skin was uneven, rough in places, but in others possessed of the unnatural smoothness of a scar. It was all real flesh, human flesh, warmth and life humming perceptibly through it.

She spread her hand and roamed a bit further. The eyelid- she touched next to it with the utmost delicacy, using the tip of one finger- seemed to droop a bit, though it was hard to tell; and the uneven skin continued up to his hairline, and back to his ear, which seemed to be misshapen, at least in the upper part. His hair was also sparser on that side, the eyebrow too. Farther down, towards the back and side of his neck, and also halfway across his forehead and along the right side of his nose, the uneven skin shifted abruptly back to normal. You could have drawn a neat line down the division.

Christine let out a breath she had not realized she had been holding.

He was real. He was not some part-animal, or skeleton, or incorporeal creature. He was a man- the same man who sang to her at night, wrote beautiful music for her, and who had pulled sensations from her body that she had never before imagined- save in her dreams of him.

"Angel," she whispered, and leaned into him, kissing him tenderly on the mouth with both hands on either side of his face. Erik was stiff for a moment, disbelieving- but then he crushed her to him with a groan, his arms tight around her waist.

"I never…I never…" he didn't seem to be able to get any further than that; he shuddered and to her utter shock, Christine felt dampness leaking down his cheeks to her fingertips.

He was crying?

"Erik…Erik, Erik…" she leaned into him, pressing kisses all over his face, desperate to comfort him, but it seemed to only make the tears flow faster, though he made no sound. She squirmed towards him, and finally threw a leg over him and straddled his lap, still holding his unseen face like a treasure in the dark.

"Shall I sing for you? Only tell me what you want to hear, I'll sing anything," she promised fervently, around a few more kisses. Erik took a deep breath, one that shook with emotion, and finally mastered the tears- mostly. He turned his face to the side and laid his cheek on Christine's shoulder and sat there a long moment, his arms tight around her waist, while she stroked his hair and his back with a tenderness he would never had credited and hummed a soft, inconsequential tune. Even in the long ago, hazy memories of his early childhood, he couldn't recall anything like this. Warmth- companionship- contact. Bliss.

"Eager as I always am to hear you sing…" he began. His voice seemed rough and unnatural to himself, as if he had not used it in a long time. He raised his head from her shoulder, and she kissed his forehead as it came up- unperturbed, uncaring of the fact that his face was bare.

"…it's very late." Early, was more like it, and Christine knew it too.

"It is." She nodded in agreement, but did not move from her position yet. She traced one finger over his lips, smiling delightedly when he captured and kissed it briefly.

"Can I…stay? And will you stay with me?" She asked it hesitantly, and was very gratified when he nodded.

"I'd be honored." He didn't sound tearful anymore; in fact, his voice was like velvet out of the dark. It sent a light shiver down Christine's back as she slid off his lap.

"You're cold," he murmured solicitously, drawing back the blankets so that they both could get under them. They slid down wordlessly and somehow Christine ended up on her side with Erik behind her, his arm tucked over her waist and his warm breath on her neck. He made a couple more adjustments to their pillows, and she scooted her cool feet back towards his legs for warmth.

"Better?" he asked in her ear, and she nodded and squeezed his hand.

"Mmmhmm." She was silent after that for a long moment, and Erik thought she had fallen asleep. He hadn't- he was too busy still savoring the miracle of her sweet body pressed trustingly against his.

"Will you…tell me about yourself?" Her voice came tiny and hesitant through the dark, and Erik knew what she wanted to know- how he came to be this way, his repulsive face and the ugly scars on his body.

He didn't want to talk about any of that, not now.

"Later," he told her, quietly but firmly. He slid a hand up from her waist and cupped a breast lazily. She sighed and wriggled tighter back against him- if that were even possible.

"All right." She made no protest; her eyes were drooping, anyway. She picked up his hand and kissed the back of it, then replaced it on her chest and took another long breath, relaxing more determinedly toward sleep.

Behind her, Erik was not still; he caressed her skin softly as she drifted off, a slow, comforting motion that blended perfectly with the darkness and the growing warmth under the blankets. The last thing she remembered before sleep took her- unless it was a dream- was him singing, very softly…

"Anywhere you go let me go too…"

A long time later, she rolled onto her back and stretched. It was no longer dark- she could tell even with her eyes closed- and the little music box at the bedside was chiming softly once again.

It must be morning.

Christine blinked open her eyes, to find the candles of the room lit again and Erik sitting at the foot of the bed, fully dressed, his mask flawlessly in place. He smiled at her, a small, wistful smile, taking in the sight of her waking in his bed, naked and with mussed, wild hair.

She smiled back and yawned; he rubbed her foot briefly through the blanket, then pointed over at the bureau that stood nearby.

Her gown was there, neatly laid out over the top of it, and her stockings were there, too, carefully placed alongside. Christine blinked. He was giving them back to her after all? But…

Erik rose from the foot of the bed and came to stand by her, holding out his hand for her to take.

"Come, we must return. Those two fools who run my theater will be missing you."

The End