4.

"Are you comfortable?" Christine asked, fussing over Erik's body as he sat buried in the sofa. She had found as many pillows as she could and had refilled his cup of tea more times then he cared to think of. "Do you need anything more?"

"No. I am fine. Please, continue your story, my dear," he said, shifting uncomfortably under all of the attention.

Christine sighed, causing Erik to only tense more, afraid of what her next, fateful words might be.

"Erik," she started, "do you remember when you told me about the bag of life and death?"

Erik closed his eyes against the memory, ashamed of his outburst and his irrational moments of anger following her attempt at suicide. He was beyond himself when he found her on the floor, wallowing in her own blood, so of course he would be irrational. It was just, humiliating that he, Erik, the magician of the Persian court and the Czar's favorite toy was incapable of keeping cool when the one he loved most needed him. And Christine did need him that night. He realized that now. The attempt on her life was not that she was seriously trying to steal herself away from him; she was just trying to make him see what he had done to her.

Mustering his courage, Erik nodded to Christine, his eyes low to the carpet.

"That bag frightened me, Erik. It invaded my dreams every night and destroyed my mind," she said.

Erik burst.

"No! No, no, no, Christine, my angel, forgive me. I know that my little bag is bad. Erik can destroy it. He can, for you Christine. Just tell Erik that you are not broken. Tell him that he did not destroy you like everything else that he loves. Please!"

"Hush. You did not destroy me. It was my guilt, you see. In my dreams, you were in the bag, Erik, and I couldn't find it anywhere. I was searching and searching until I finally found something like it. I would cry, holding the bag in my hands, like this." The young woman took Erik's hands in her own and held them against her bosom, causing Erik to blush brightly. "I would cry, 'My love, I have found you!' and I would hear your voice call back, 'Christine, you lie!'"

Her lips quivered a bit, drawing his attention to them. They were lovely, even as they trembled.

"Then the bag opened and out sprang a scorpion; a horrible, demon creature. It was so ugly, Erik! But it didn't hurt me. It was the grasshopper. It was green like summer leaves but its face. Oh God, Erik, his face. Raoul's face peered at me with buggy eyes and wrapped his claw like talons around me. Then he exploded! I would look in the mirror see your eyes staring back at me. You were calling me, but each moment you got farther and farther away. When I woke, I could only cry."

"It was just a silly dream, Christine," he said.

"No, Erik. It was the truth. I betrayed you by choosing the scorpion and then leaving you behind. I should have stayed, like a good wife would have."

"Christine is the perfect wife, and so she of course needs a perfect husband. Erik is not him. I am not him!"

She squeezed his hand. Never breaking eye contact, she brought her hand upwards towards her lips. When the velvet skin touched his hand he jerked away, his torso shaking.

"What..?"

"I want to stay with you, Erik. I want to take care of you."

She paused, breathing in deeply.

"I want to be your wife."