Erik took Grace up to the surface once he had arranged her hair in a presentable manner. Only forty-five minutes had passed since they went through the floor, and a bit of a party was going on backstage.

   Erik located Leopold, George, and Nora, and led Grace to them. They were beaming and Leopold knocked Grace into Erik, jumping on her with his great weight in greeting.

   "Oh dearie, you were so wonderful, I just about busted my buttons with pride! George and I prouder than flamingos!" Nora gushed.

   "I believe the phrase is peacocks, my love," George corrected, reaching out a hand to Erik. "And you must be Ten - knee -brass himself, Grace's employer and co-star!"

  "Oh doodle, its the same thing!" Nora wrung Erik's hand when George had finished with a raucous slap on the shoulder. "Mister, I wonder if you are aware that Grace's birthday is in a few weeks?"

  Erik smirked and his eyes shifted to Grace for a moment. "Why no," he lied. "I did not."

   "Oh, but I told her to invite you!" Nora sent a scolding look towards her daughter.

   "I'm sorry, I received no invitation to anything," he stated.

   "Well, George and I are giving a ball. She's turning one and twenty! And I do hope -"

  "Nora, I don't think he'd like -"

   "Hush Grace. I do hope you'll come. It will be ever so much fun! And Grace would love your company! She thinks very highly of you!"

   Grace wondered whether ahe should plan Nora's murder or jump off the catwalk. She settled for turning florescent pink.

   And to her immense shock, Erik gave Nora a kind smile and said, "I'd be delighted to. I shall get the details from Grace though; unfortunately I have to check on a few things now."

    He pinched Grace's pink cheek, knowing it would further irritate her, and said goodbye.

                             🌹
  In the time leading up to the ball, Grace and Erik took long walks around the city, visited the Ladies, and ate cake at the cafe Gaston took her to. They spent most of their time together, and given the fact the theatre was in between plays, they had a lot of it. Rodger, upon his arrival back, joined them. Erik found him to be tolerable now, and often laughed at the stories he and Grace would share.

   Soon, the week of the ball came, and then the ball itself.

    Grace was in the powder room with Nora, who was helping her with the finishing touches of her ensemble. George was greeting guests and directing them on where to go, what time dinner was, and who was in charge of dance cards, for those that wanted them. Leopold was in the kitchen, trying to snatch treats, using his three leggedness to make the cooks amd servers pity him. He always did that on purpose, every party the Treacles ever gave.

   "You look beautiful, darling," Nora said.

    Grace thanked her. She didn't feel beautiful. And even if she hadn't sworn off men, she wanted to be beautiful if only to be so for herself. But no, she thought as she looked at herself in the mirror, with her thin, mousy hair pulled up and curled into limp ringlets, with her pale, scar ladden skin, and her large eyes, too big for her face. This wasn't beautiful. This wasn't pretty. But, it wasn't ugly. And she should be happy with that. It could be worse, she told herself, turning to the side to survey her flat curves. She had laced her corset an inch or two tighter than usual and she still didn't have hips or a bust.

   "Ah well. I can sing and I can dance. Renata's wasn't meant to be anything more than sexually alluring anyway," she huffed.

   "What dear?" Nora asked, eyes wide at what she thought she just heard her child say.

   "Oh nothing, Nora, nothing," Grace insisted. "Come on, we should go now or we'll be late to our own ball."

   I'm not trying to impress anybody anyway.

                          🎼
   Erik stood in a corner, isolated, foreboding, and alone. No one approached the tall, brooding man in the mask. They knew who he was, that marvelous actor and musician of the most scandalizing opera they'd ever seen, but they were too frightened to approach. According to the papers, he had been a suspect in a murder case. He couldn't have done it of course, since his alibi was supported by Grace, who never told a falsehood and was of pure, good moral. He had been with her that night, rehearsing. But as openly fond of him as she was, and as friendly as he was to her, not a soul in the room dared to cross paths with him.

   Grace spotted him as she came down the stairs as she was being announced, cool and hostile. His eyes jerked to her when her name was given, and then he looked like he swallowed a lemon.

    He had been bored all evening  - all twenty minutes, that is - and had come considered leaving. He didn't find pleasure that night, in scaring people, for some unplaceable reason.

    Then Grace entered and he found his breath was stolen from him. He had never seen her looking even semi presentable. But now she was dressed as a lady, and slipped into the elegance her name suggested, that refinement she had occasionally showed and so desired as a child.

   Her dress was a daring red trimmed with black lace that carved patterns into her pale skin. Her hair was curled and draped elegantly down her shoulders  - which shockingly were bare. But their perfect curve were very pleasing to the eye.

     She greeted several people and slowly made her way over to him.

   "There are many people here who tire me, so can we please go dance?"

   Erik laugehd jovially, "Aren't I supposed to be the one asking you?"

    Grace frowned.

   "Come on then. I assume I must since Rodger is busy talking to a few fellows by the refreshments."

  Grace's frown deepened.

    "Did I mention you are stunning?" He swept her onto the dance floor.

     She glared at him.

    "You always were pretty, please don't misunderstand, but you actually made half an effort tonight. No burgundy shawls or pants."

  She snorted. "Keep complimenting and I might forgive you."

    Her hazel eyes sparkled in the candlelight, dancing with joy as their partner, in time to the music.

   "Well let's see... there's the dazzling figure you cut in that dress, your clear skin, though I have no idea why you have powder on your shoulder  -"

   "Scars. Maybe I'll show you later."

   His eyes scanned her left shoulder, looking for the marks she claimed were hidden by the whitening powder she had dusted in grand amounts on herself. He came up empty. She was quite talented at makeup, it would seem. Maybe he should add that to her duties at his opera house.

   "There are your lovely eyes, big and curious. I loved seeing the curiosity in them when you were little. You still look at the world with wonder and an open mind and heart." She smiled at him, tempting him to ruin the moment. "And then there is your nose. It's lovely, pert and small."

   She slapped his shoulder. "Shut up before I start complimenting you. I swear it'll be painful."

   "Your lips are rather pink too."

    Grace had no words, and she blushed. Erik did notice then, tje faintest mark on her skin. A barely visible line, coated in the powder.

    His fingers brushed some away. "Not here," she hissed. "I have to wear powder when I wear low cut dresses, otherwise everyone will see..."

   "You don't around me. Wear powder, that is."

   She rolled her eyes.

    After several more waltzes, one very scandalous tango, and a fox trot with Rodger, Nora announced that dinner was served.

   "I should go," Erik said. "Though I don't want to."

  "Then stay," Grace did not want him to leave either.

   "I'm not hungry and I don't want to socialize. I'll wait for you on the balcony."

   "Alright."

   She moved to follow the guests, but Erik snatched her arm, stopping her.

   "Grace," he whispered. His fingers brushed her cheek, and then he was gone.

   She wasn't sure if it was creepy or affectionate. For Erik, it had to be affectionate. She only wished her heart wouldn't pound like it did.

                              🎶
  
    She walked out onto the balcony, standing beside Erik, silently.

  It was a beautiful night. But cold, even for winter. The stars were out, and although clouds hid the moon, the sky was bright.  The torches on the walls didn't hurt either. Below them, Paris stretched out. Hundreds of homes, thousands of people. Lights in the distant darkness.

   "I was watching you and Rodger earlier," Erik said. "I'm jealous of your familiarity with him. You're so carefee."

   "Rodger's one of the few who's seen me at my worst and accepted me after it passed. If it makes you feel better, I'm jealous of Christina."

   The two of them were not looking at each other as they spoke, finding courage in that and the blanketing stars, the definite dark of night.

   Grace started rubbing at the powder covering her scars, not looking ahead to consider how she'd cover up again. She turned her face the other way so he would have a good look.

   A silver line ran over her collar bone, diagonally crossing up her shoulder, and peeking out of her dress was no more than a perpendicular centimeter of jagged flesh, rough and raised.

   She turned back, her hand raising up to cover the skin. But Erik beat her to it. He had always loved and wanted perfection in everything, believed it to make things beautiful. But Grace, marred and twisted, was, as he said, "Still beautiful. You shouldn't hide it."

   "You hide behind a mask."

    "It's different."

    "No it's not. You can't see under my clothes."

   "Oh but I'm sure I'd like to."

   He was teasing but she shivered. He retracted his hand and starte taking of his coat.

  "Don't."

   "You're cold."

   "You will be too."

   "I am cold. I am death."

   "You are an idiot. I have a better idea."

   She picked up one of his arms folded over his chest and laid it across her shoulders. "There," she said, feeling disgustingly brazen but wanting to feel his hardly tangible warmth.

   Erik's heart pounded in his chest as he wrapped his other arm around her. Christina had never willingly let him hold her or embrace her, nor had his own family. Her closeness was as intoxicating as her voice, the first time he heard it, and her brave personality, her kindness. She wanted to be close to him. She didn't care about his warnings. His anger, the face she'd never see.

   And she was warm against his cool skin.

   Her courage seemed to transfer to him. He suddenly was determined to do something.

   His hands found her waist and he turned her to face him. She was confused at first, but her hitching breath a he came closer served as an explanation, to his amusement.

   His gold eyes fell to her sealed lips, then to her hazel ones, asking and telling. She gave no sign of rejection, and he continued, thinking he would be rejected all the way up until his lips met hers. Believing she would push him away. But her hands curled around his waistcoat, anchoring him to her.

   He kissed her.

    Kissing Erik was very strange. For one thing, she felt a burning fire ignite at the exact same time she felt her heart melt of sweetness, of his cool, respectful, low, careful lips pressed to hers. Two opposites fighting each other. Sweetness, innocence, and raging desire that demanded she throw herself at him. But the sweetness won, as he asked for no more, and she wanted to savor his gentleness. For another thing, his gentleness surprised her. He wasn't yelling or demanding, or forcing, and he aways seemed like he'd be a straight forward kisser, passionate and commanding. But with every movement of his lips, all he demonstrated was a docile gentleness and sweet, loving care. The choice telling her they could stop whenever. Finally, she noted how the hard ceramic of his mask was kind of irritating, and digging into her skin a bit. And there was something funny about his lips... as if something were off or missing.

   Erik broke them apart to breathe, or rather allow her to breathe, as his lungs were better due to his years vocal training and he could have continued. He wanted to see her reaction too, for it terrified him.

   She could be repulsed for all he knew.

  He nearly cried when she smiled at him.

   "What happened to Christina? Kiss any girl like that and she'll force you into marriage."

   "I don't love Christina. I don't think I ever did." He swallowed his pride, but not his fear. "I love you, Grace."

   Grace backed away. "No. What about... but... are you sure?"

  Feeling hurt, Erik nodded. "I know I do, and I'm sorry I've been so crazy."

   She laughed and threw her arms around him. "I love you too. Now kiss me again."

So don't kill me. But next chapter and you will be saying WTF with me. Sorry ahead of time. Maybe five chapters left.