A/N: Just to answer all your questions at once. Did Christine really say that? Yes she did. Thanks to inkblottales again more chappies coming your way soon! Have a good day guys!

On with ch3!

She shook herself and took the matches down from the shelf to light the lantern to go into the cellar. Descending the steps she desperately tried not to think about that day. Like she always did when she went down those steps. Even with what she knew now, the memories forced their way back into her mind, as if the were new. Images of his death, as he held her hand and they professed their love and promised to love each other even in death. The way he used all of his strength to remove her ring.

"You were mine first. And tonight you will be again." He had said looking so deeply into her eyes she could almost feel him inside her heart."

"Don't leave me." She had whispered clutching his hand.

"Not for right now. But I am afraid. I will have to leave you soon, my dear." He said giving her hand a squeeze.

Tears began streaming from her eyes.

Christine stop! He is alive. By some great miracle and he is waiting for you. Now pull yourself together!

She scrubbed at her eyes with her sleeve. Best to put those thoughts away for now. You don't know where anything stands right now. It won't do you any good to go losing your head. She took two bottles of wine off the rack grabbed the lantern, then as a last minute idea, grabbed a jar of preserves off another shelf and returned to where Erik stood waiting.

"I feel like I've just raided the kitchens." She said with a laugh holding up the bottles of wine.

"Let me carry some of that or your going to break the eggs. Wherever they happen to be." taking one of the bottles and a jar from her. As she handed them over she didn't miss the sidelong glance he gave her.

"They're in my pockets. My rooms are over this way." She said motioning with the lantern.

He followed with out a word and with out a sound. She had to at one point indulge herself with a quick pause to ensure the fact that he was still behind her. She turned and paused the lamp light caught the gold of his eyes and her heart did a summersault.

"Up the stairs." She said with smile and headed up the stairs. When she got to the top of the stairs she handed the lantern to him and braced her shoulder against the door, "This bloody door always sticks in the damp weather. Which is basically all the time."

She gave mighty shove against the door and then held it open for him, "Après vous."

"Merci." He said walking past her; then turning to watch as she shouldered the door closed again.

"I could fix that for you."

"Merci, but no. I complain about it but actually I'm glad for it." She said moving past him into the kitchen area.

"Did I hear you right? Your glad for it."

She nodded, "I know it sounds crazy. Here, I'll take those." She said taking the bottles from him and setting them down on the high table that separated the kitchen from the living area." But there is a trick to that door and if you don't open it the right way it makes the most horrible sound. And you can hear it all the way across the farm. Stops any one from coming up here to mess with my things."

"When you put it like that." Erik said setting the lantern on the table. "Doesn't sound crazy at all. Rather ingenious actually, well done."

"Merci. Have a seat. " She said turning to the cupboard to get a bowl for the eggs. He took his cloak off and hung it on an empty hook by the door beside a rather well used looking bridle. He pulled out one of the tall chairs and perched himself on it and took his hat off and sat it on the chair beside him where a saddle sat looking freshly cleaned and polished. Suddenly she was nervous and her hands trembled. She looked at him through her lashes. Nothing about him had changed, really; maybe he was a little more simply dressed than when he was at the opera. And it did seem like his complexion was a little darker as if it had actually seen a day or two of sun. And when he had held her in the barn he felt more solid. A sure sign thathe must be eating somewhat better. I can't believe I fainted so much for being tough, eh Chris?

She placed the last egg in the bowl and he reached over and stilled her hand.

"Christine, you're handling this rather well." She looked down at his hand. She knew this hand, it was graceful, it created the most wonderful music, it could deliver death and it could be unfailingly gentle. And it was very alive. Her thumb of it's own volition reached up and hooked over his finger. She swallowed and looked up into his eyes.

He marvelled at them. The purest shade of blue he had ever seen. But just as he had noticed before they were glassy with the threat of tears. She swallowed and looked down at their hands.

"Do you have any idea how surreal this is for me?"

'"You think it's any easier for me?"

"It's too easy." she barely whispered, but he had heard it all the same. It was the truth she was avoiding.

"What is?"

"This. . . you. . .am I dreaming?" Christine whispered and looked up into his eyes searching for answers.

"If you are then we are having the same dream." he said softly returning her gaze." But I promise petite you are not dreaming."

"But. . ." She shook her head, "I don't understand. . . you... you were. . .you did."

"To the best of my knowledge, yes. I'm sorry Christine; I don't have an answer for you. I wish I did because then I would have an answer for myself."

"Tell me something." She said with a new resolve.

"Anything."

"No. Tell me something only you would know."

"Your favourite fairy tale is about the white rose and the nightingale. You used to ask me to tell it to you when you were feeling frightened or having trouble sleeping."

"Non, Meg knows that. Something else."

"Because of that fairy tale your favourite colour of rose is white, like snow. But after every performance I give you a red rose because music is the expression of the love we share."

"What else?" she urged her heart pounding as tears threatened to fall.

"On your back above your right hip there is a one inch scar. You got that cut from a knife sticking out of a drawer in the kitchen. I was the one who cleaned and stitched it for you. It was the first time you had ever drank brandy."

"And?"

"Another scar, one that matches one of mine. On your left hand." He said turning her hand over and tracing the scar on the heel of her hand with his thumb. Then turning his left hand over to reveal an identical scar. "On your eighteenth birthday we made a blood pact no more lies, no more half truths."

Christine looked up into his eyes and swallowed a tear slipped from her eyes.

"It was the first time you kissed me."

"Oh, God. Erik!" She cried the dam of tears finally breaking. And before he knew it Erik had an entire lap full of Christine. She clung to him, sobbing, as if he was going to vanish any second. Or worse yet she was going to wake up, "Oh !God! please don't leave me, I wont survive it this time."

"I'm not going anywhere mon ange." He whispered and held her close.

A/N:Hopefully before the end of the week I will have a sketch up on deviant art of Christines rooms. When you get to deviant art just search for me opera777 and it will probably maybe be there.

please review it makes my dark existence brighter!