Hiiiiiii so this was supposed to have been published back at new years but there was an unexpected death in my family and it halted my progress on this chapter. My family and I are doing better now, and I was able to dedicate time this weekend to getting back to this story! Only two chapters and (maybe) an epilogue to go! Thank you so much for sticking with me and this story through all of my sporadic updates!


She was startled more than anything.

It was dark — very dark — for a start, and there was hardly any light in the room. The bathroom door was cracked open and the light that seeped in from there was a dingy, dull yellow at best. Maybe that was the reason she stared: the shadows tricked her eyes into seeing things that weren't there. But a part of her knew that wasn't true…her eyes did not normally lie to her.

She swallowed.

Erik looked absolutely nothing like she'd imagined.

The mask had raised a red flag, sure. How many people walked around in masks that covered their entire faces? But people were weird and she was desperate and besides, who was she to judge? He could wear whatever he wanted, it was his face, his life, but now—

Now to see that there was a reason?

Her stomach sank at the sight.

What had her naïve little head imagined hours ago in the car? She felt she could barely remember it now that he stood unmasked in front of her. Earlier she had imagined sharp features and a hooked nose and soft skin and…

It didn't matter what she had dreamed up when reality stared her right in the face.

Sharp features, yes, but also sunken cheeks and an exaggerated jaw line. Dark circles and twisted skin where it should be smooth and puckered veins and—

No nose.

No.

Nose.

She hated to be rude, but people usually had noses…right? Right?!

A gasp escaped her lips before she immediately regretted it, guilt already making itself at home deep within her.

How did he breathe? Could he smell? Did it hurt—

Oh gosh, why was she thinking these things?

Her cheeks warmed as she grasped the violin closer to her chest, eyes still wide. Despite the shock that still controlled her, despite the curious— albeit rude — questions stinging the back of her mind, something still stirred within her; anger still crept up inside her, her shock mellowing in light of the answers she craved more.

Frozen for a moment, her eyes darted over to the spot where Erik nearly launched himself at, grasping for the black mask that lay discarded on the nightstand.

The nightstand.

That's what she had heard earlier...the clattering noise before he had gotten up…

"Oh…" she sighed; the sound no louder than the heater thrumming next to the wall, the noise a welcome distraction from the situation at hand.

He stayed silent as she watched him with keen fascination put the mask back on, his back toward her so that he was facing the wall.

Good. She didn't know if she could look him in the eye while accusing him of theft.

"Erik," she said a bit quieter as if afraid to scare him. Or maybe she was afraid she may scare herself, she hated confrontation.

"I don't need your pity." The words were hurled so suddenly at her that she ducked as if she'd been hit.

Well, that wasn't the reaction she had expected.

He still hadn't turned around.

"What—"

His chest heaved as he stood bracing himself against the wall, his nails carving lines into the frail, chipping paint; dry wall dust collecting on the polished wood of the night stand.

"I do not need your kind words," he said like an insult, "nor your sympathy," he seethed.

But his voice shook.

This was not at all what she had planned on discussing. (Alright, discussing was the wrong word, perhaps arguing or yelling would be more appropriate). This man, who came across as so intimidating and confident looked so…defeated.

The violin slipped out of her grasp just slightly as her hold on it loosened, but she did not let go.

"Erik…I didn't know…" she trailed off, cradling her violin closer to her chest.

A forced laugh emerged from him, his back straightening and his hand sliding down off the wall. "No, you didn't."

Silence fell over them again. She didn't know what to say. She couldn't offer him comfort, and she was still just itching to ask about the violin- but now was the wrong time, wasn't it? Gosh, she was terrible at timing these things out. She should've stayed in bed and tried to peek at the violin later, maybe when they stopped for gas or breakfast or something and ask him then but no, of course she couldn't. She had to get up in the middle of the night and seek it out— stupid impatient, insatiable curiosity.

She felt terrible that Erik felt embarrassed and because he was embarrassed she was embarrassed and—

She was so good at making messes, but so awful at cleaning them up.

She supposed that was the reason she interrupted the silence between them with the only thing she could think of. The only thing that her brain could even think straight about at the moment:

"Where did you get this violin? Tell me now, I need to know."

He turned just slightly, just enough that the side of his mask reflected a small bit of light from the bathroom. She must have caught him off guard with the question. But had she really? He should be the one questioning her since it was his things she had sorted through and now held in her hands.

Well…not technically all his things. This violin was hers.

But he didn't say anything.

Maybe it was her own stubbornness that made her approach him, maybe it was the fact that even though he stood practically frozen before her and refused to face her…or maybe it was that she trusted him.

Trust? Was that what it was? She supposed she trusted him to some degree. Trusted him enough to drive her halfway up the country, trusted him enough to sleep beside him in a bed, trusted him enough to kiss him…

Her stomach leapt at the thought.

It didn't matter the reason. All that mattered was she trusted he wouldn't hurt her, and trusted he would give her an answer. It didn't matter if his mask was on or off, she needed an answer and she needed it now. She had waited long enough. She stood, kneeling and then wavering on both of her feet before crossing the small distance between them.

The violin was left in her grandfather's cabin with the rest of her father's belongings. In Washington. Not in some stranger's care. Not in Erik's care.

So why did he have it?

"Erik," she said, a strange calm washing over her voice as she confidently stood, holding the violin out to him just slightly. "Where did you get this violin from? Please."

He shrugged at that, just the tiniest raise of the shoulder. "What does it matter to you?"

"I need to know."

A sigh, long and drawn out as if this was the last thing he wished to discuss at the moment came from him as his hands clenched at the sides of his pants.

"A pawnshop ages ago…northern California?" He said as if it was an insignificant detail, his gaze still on the wall before him.

He was so frustrating.

Her eyes narrowed. "I don't believe you."

A pawn shop? What kind of made-up, nonsense answer was that? She hadn't sold it to any pawn shop, and she hadn't given anyone else permission to, no one had even been to her grandfather's cabin that she knew of— surely it was viewed as a forgotten old relic by now, why would someone take it…had someone taken it…

She closed her eyes but no tears came, how could they? She had cried herself out earlier, her eyes only burned with tiredness now, with grief she'd suppressed for so long.

She took a breath.

"On the back, there's a carving…a name—"

Oh gosh, she couldn't do this. This was too much. Too much confrontation, too much history to delve into. How was she supposed to explain the memories this simple instrument held to her, how was she to explain the care that her father had shown it, how this was his everything—

How was she to explain that in her grief…she had abandoned the violin along with every other thing in that house that she would have to face that meant her father was gone?

She wanted to appear strong, but her breath shook as she released a sigh, eyes closed and violin close to her chest. She had to push forward. Why was it so hard to tell him? Why wouldn't the words come out of her mouth?

"Daaé…"

Her eyes shot open.

He had finished her sentence for her. She gaped for a moment, unable to do much more than stare at the loose threads on the back of his shirt as she searched for what to say next. However, all she could manage was a simple:

"Yes."

She watched as he nodded and began to turn towards her—

He stared only a second before his eyes shot to the ceiling.

She blinked, confused.

"What…" she started, her own gaze following his to the ceiling—

"Christine…your pants…" he choked out, eyes faithfully trained to the popcorn sky above them.

Oh she was really testing her own luck tonight wasn't she.

Her face burned as blood rushed to her cheeks and she gave a small yelp, setting the violin on to the bed so she could use her hands to pull her sweater further down. Oh gosh why couldn't she do one thing right without embarrassing herself. How had she forgotten about her pants? Her pants? Sure this had all escalated very quickly with the kiss and then the violin and Erik's face…

With all that had happened, she had almost forgotten about that.

Well, she would gladly remember it everyday of her life if it meant her pants could be on her body and not crumpled in the floor across the room.

"Erik?" she started as she backed away from him and towards the chair to hide behind.

"Hm?" He answered, voice tight.

"Give. Me. My. Pants," she said through gritted teeth, hands desperately stretching down the bottom of her very-not-stretchy sweater.

Now of course it was not entirely his fault her pants were across the room, and should she have snapped at him? Probably not. But she had already stood before him in nothing but a towel and she usually didn't neglect her clothing so frequently as she apparently was tonight. Not to mention he was the one who suggested she remove them in the first place.

Maybe this was his fault after all.

Erik lowered his gaze from the ceiling for a moment to look around the room before walking to the other side of the bed and picking up her jeans.

ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod…this can't get any worse….

Her eyes were trained on him until he brought the pants to the chair, handing them over to her but not meeting her eyes.

"Thank you," she muttered as she sat on the floor behind the back of the chair to put her pants on entirely out of his view.

This was not going at all like she had hoped. She pulled on one pant leg then the other, unsure if she was stalling to avoid the embarrassment she felt or the issue of confronting Erik again about the violin. She had gotten so close and then he just had to go and turn around. It was so quiet now and she was safe behind the chair, honestly, she could just stay huddled up back there until Erik declared it was time to return to the car. Really she could.

But that was childish.

She swallowed and stood to her feet.

She couldn't avoid it forever.

"Erik—"

"Christine, I—"

They both spoke at the same time before they both fell silent; Christine's eyes focused on him and Erik's eyes cast down toward the floor. She pursed her lips and her eyes darted again to the violin that lay on the bed and then over to the alarm clock that blinked 6:17 back at her in a glowing red.

"Christine I can't drive you the rest of the way."

Her eyes cut back to him.

"What?"

What did he mean he couldn't drive her the rest of the way? What was she supposed to do— walk? He had driven her so far, stayed in a hotel room, slept in the same bed and suddenly it was too much? Was this about the pants? It was about the pants wasn't it. Or the kiss or the towel or the going through the violin cases— oh she was an idiot.

"Why?" She pressed further, taking a step around the back of the chair so she was in front.

He shook his head and ran a hand down his pants pocket, pulling out a set of keys and holding them out to her.

"Here, these are for the rental car."

She cocked her head and felt her jaw drop. "No. I don't understand—"

"I just, I can't," he jingled the keys in front of her, pushing them at her again. "You saw…you've seen," he swallowed. "I can't put you through that, just take them."

Saw what? His face? Was all this over her seeing his face? No, that was ridiculous, there was no way. It was an accident and it was dark and…that couldn't be it. He hadn't brought it up besides that one conversation a few minutes beforehand and his mask was back on—

It was the violin. It was always the violin. She hadn't exactly gotten around to the part in her plan where she yelled at him for stealing it, but perhaps he had caught on to her intentions non-verbally. She was a fuming wreck and her last name was on the violin for god's sake and this was him trying to escape her figuring him out, wasn't it?

She reached forward and took the car keys.

He wanted to not own up to his actions and tell her the truth about the violin? Fine. Fine. She would find out on her own. She could call the police on him once she got home and they could call the rental agency and get his information and bring him in for questioning and—

She looked down at the keys.

"How are you getting out of here then?" She said, her tone still biting.

"I'll find a way."

She raised her head to look at him, he still wouldn't meet her eyes, and took a steadying breath. "You won't have a car."

His eyes scanned over her, just for the briefest of moments, darting side to side as if he was searching for something in her own gaze before settling on looking just past her.

"I'll find a way," he repeated.

"No, I am not just letting you get out of this—"

"I'll give you the rest of the gas money, the rental agency already has my credit card to pay for the car, I'll check out of the hotel too but…I can't take you any further."

He turned then, collecting the violin from the bed and carrying it over to the case discarded on the floor.

He hadn't even asked why she had been going through his things in the first place.

She stood shocked, not moving to collect any of her own things or to argue with him further. Was he really going to make her take the car? Without him?

The sound of the light switch being flicked on caught her off guard as more soft light filled the room.

"Please," the whisper came broken from him and she met his stare and saw the water glistening in the corners of his eyes.

She wanted to reach out and wrap him in her arms like he had done for her earlier…

Instead her voice hissed out: "Fine."

She walked to the nightstand on her side of the bed where she had left her purse and phone and quickly shoved the latter into the former before picking up her coat from where it had slipped off on to the floor and faced Erik again.

"I'm not leaving without the violin. That's my father's violin. My violin. I don't know how you really got it, but I know if you aren't coming with me, then I'm not leaving without it."

The words poured out of her as if a switch of her own had been flicked on somewhere deep within her. If this was her last moments with this man whom she thought she had connected with, whom she thought might understand an inkling of the grief she had dumped onto him earlier, then she had to do what she could to secure the violin.

For her father if for no one else.

Erik was silent for a moment before he shrugged, moving away from the light switch and toward the cases.

"I recognized your name in the airport but I thought it was a coincidence…" Erik bent lower to graze a hand over the polished case that he had closed only moments ago. "That doesn't change my mind though, I can't let you suffer…in a car…not with me…"

What on earth was he rattling on about? It wasn't a complicated request, she wanted her violin back. What was so hard to understand about that?

He raised his head to look at her from across the room. "Despite all that, I am telling the truth and I don't appreciate being told that I am a common thief. I did purchase this legally and I will find a receipt to prove it if I have to. So, Ms. Daaé the answer is no, you may not take my violin with you. Now please. I am trying to remain civil here; I am not asking you to pay for any of the fees of this past day's adventures and I think that is enough."

She wanted to yell. She wanted to yell and scream and forcefully take the violin and tell him to shove his explanation up his ass before slamming the door in his face.

But she didn't.

She didn't yell or scream or take the violin.

She did slam the door though.

Slammed it as she took a wavering look at someone she thought she trusted, someone she thought understood, someone she thought…

It didn't matter what she thought. It didn't matter if she had loved his playing or his voice. It didn't matter if the only happy memory her mind could supply her with was replaying the moment their lips met hours before, it didn't matter, none of it mattered.

He had betrayed that trust. Betrayed her and left her on her own.

Everyone always left her.

The car door slammed shut as well as she jammed the key into the ignition and threw her coat and purse onto the passenger seat and pulled out of the parking lot and back on to the highway, the lights blurring and blending together through her tears.


To be continued...