Erik stared at the ceiling of his study and wondered if last night had been some kind of alcohol-inspired nightmare. He hadn't really met the Dr. Frankenstein, had he? And there had been no bizarre transformation of a lifeless white body into a woman, had there? No, no. It is too ridiculous…

Only, it wasn't.

Erik knew that it had all been real. Frankenstein had given him a woman, and that woman, Christine, was sleeping in his bed. They had talked last night of many different things in a direct attempt by Erik to not be overwhelmed by the information she was to eager to bestow upon him about the gestation periods of those like her, and the genetic implanting that resulted in one eye color or another.

Personally, Erik didn't care to know the ins and outs of all that- what mattered to him was that he had a woman under his roof, a beautiful woman who, from her first moments in life, had treated him as a man. He owed her everything just for the conversation the night before.

Christine had put him at ease. Amazingly, they had laughed together. The hour had grown late, however, and Erik had realized that there was nowhere to put her, so he'd insisted that she sleep in his room.

'A woman in my bed for the first time, but it's nothing like I've always hoped it would be. We both slept alone last night, though I can't recall if I even slept at all…I can't tell my dreams apart from my real life anymore'

The realization that he was so unprepared for Christine had occurred to Erik last night with all the subtlety of a jackhammer. The girl had no wardrobe other than the white shirt and low-slung white pants that she had arrived in. Despite himself, Erik had noticed that Christine wore no shoes and no underwear beneath her clothes.

He kicked himself for being so remiss, but then again, he hadn't actually known that Frankenstein would actually come through for him- there had been an equal chance that Victor would just kill him as there had that he would capitulate to Erik's demand.

'Did you think that Christine would just spring out of a box to love you, and come along with all the accessories? She was made, but that doesn't mean she's a doll. Even a doll's clothes and shoes come sold separately, why would she be any different?'

Erik shook his head. He didn't want to think of Christine as a doll or a creation or as anything less than human. According to Victor, Christine was more advanced than any man that had come before her. Stronger, faster, more intelligent…she was far more kind and accepting than any woman Erik had ever met, and that was all that mattered to him.

They had spoken for hours the night before- of the mundane, of the fantastic. Surprisingly, he'd learned that she had opinions and preferences. In the back of his mind, Erik had wondered if she had been…pre-programmed to like or dislike certain things. Christine had picked up on his curiosity, and explained that her mind was her own: the knowledge downloads were objective information, Christine and most of those like her were free to form their own thoughts as part of the learning process; however, even if they had come to disagree with Victor's vision, they were powerless to oppose him directly.

After that, Erik had steered the conversation away from Frankenstein- if he had questions, he would consult the book. He swung his legs down to the floor so that he could sit up and take a quick look before checking in on Christine. The opening pages consisted of some general observations of the subjects while they were in their…unaware stage of life.

Erik flipped through, and hoped the rest of the book wasn't altogether too disturbing…he had serious questions and concerns; he couldn't let his own discomfort become an obstacle. Erik had paid Victor to create a female companion for him, and Christine had proven herself to be more than he could have ever hoped for. He would be goddamned if he did anything that could inadvertently harm or even so much as upset her now.

Erik didn't know where to start; it was morning, he thought that Christine might be hungry, but what could he feed her? Could she even eat normal food? Erik flipped a few pages past the notes on the unaware phase, past the notes on color variations in skin tone and eye color…

'Because of the advanced metabolism in the new lines, they all possess voracious everyday appetites and are in dire need of strong protein and iron within 24hrs. of initiation…'

Erik snapped the book shut and set it back on the table. 'Voracious appetite? Christine must be starving by now!' He stood up from the sofa and started back, nearly stumbling over his own feet. Christine was standing directly before him!

"Agh, Christine! What are you- I didn't hear you come in, how did you do that, how long have you been standing there?" He demanded as his heart pounded in his chest. Erik felt like a fool to have been so unaware of her presence, and to be so startled by the girl.

Christine's hair and clothes were slightly rumpled, but her eyes showed no sign of weariness. "I'm sorry I scared you, Erik. It won't happen again, I promise that in the future I will announce myself. I…I was watching you."

His eyebrows lifted. "I wasn't scared…I was just startled. Why were you watching me?"

A casual shrug of her shoulders. "I just wanted to see you as you were when alone. You have an interesting mask, Erik, but I hope that in time you will trust me enough to see the face underneath,"

'Does she just speak whatever thought occurs to her mind? She is so honest and open with me, as if we are married!' The thought of buying a ring for Christine had occurred to him as he'd stayed up during the night, but he had dismissed the idea. Erik felt that marriage was a true union; he couldn't bring himself to give a ring to a woman just for the sake of appearances- especially when he couldn't be sure if Christine was even capable of understanding the concept of love…

Erik touched his mask. "Well, all things in time, eh, Christine? You haven't even been here a full day, which reminds me, I need to feed you." He winced at his last statement.

' "I need to feed you"?! She's not your pet, you idiot! God, she must think I'm a complete fool…'

"Oh, that would be lovely, if you only show me to your kitchen I can make us breakfast," she agreed happily, her seaglass eyes seeming to glow at the mention of food.

Erik shook his head. "You are my guest, I should be the one to cook-"

Christine came forward to him and placed a hand on his chest. Erik felt something turn over inside; at the touch of her hand, a pleasant, soft feeling of warmth washed over him. His disagreement died on his tongue. 'What is she doing to me?'

"Erik, how many years have you been alone? I'll admit something to you: I did not go directly to sleep last night. I looked through your things. I'm sorry, but I had to know. You've been alone for years- there is no clue to family or to other women. Let me cook for you, let me take care of you. It is my purpose, you remember?"

Christine smiled at him, and Erik hesitantly lifted his hand to rest over hers. "All right, Christine. If that is what you truly want,"

"It is. Erik?"

"Yes Christine?"

"Could you give me a tour of your house, please? My cognitive map only reaches between the study and your bedroom,"

Erik gave her an odd look. "I…um, yes. Let me show you around a bit."


The new female presence in his home had not gone unnoticed.

Besides himself, there were two other residents that roamed within Erik's large town house. Daniel Mayfair had acted as his personal attendant for over ten years, and since she had completed her university education, his daughter Joan had joined the household.

As he led her into the kitchen, Erik was confronted with two suspicious pairs of eyes. As friends, they were overprotective of his feelings. He had been hurt before, and the consequences had almost brought down the house. He cleared his throat. "I…good morning, Joan, Mayfair. I'd like you both to meet Christine Daae. She's my…she's to be the new lady of the house," he finished uneasily.

Joan and Mayfair often acted as a pair- they were similar in their appearance and expressions. They both shared the same sandy brown hair and smoked hazel eyes, and at the announcement of Erik's new paramour, father and daughter both shared the same expression of surprise.

They looked at each other first, before Joan nodded as Mayfair was silently elected the first to speak. He stood from the table and moved forward with an outstretched hand although the smile on his face was strained. "Um, hello there," he greeted uneasily. Christine smiled and shook his hand.

"Hello, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Mayfair," she greeted happily. Erik watched from the side as they both assessed each other. He felt apprehensive, as if there might be some visible giveaway on Christine's too perfect face that would alert Mayfair of her difference from them.

Thankfully, he saw that Mayfair genuinely returned Christine's smile. "The pleasure is all mine, miss Daae,"

"Oh, Christine, please," she said, dazzling the room with her smile. Her seaglass eyes held Mayfair enthralled before she shifted her gaze to Joan, who was still seated at the large breakfast table. Christine showed no hesitancy, there was confidence in every step as she walked straight over to Joan and thrust her hand toward her. "Good morning Joan, how are you?"

Joan looked Christine up and down with heavy, obvious scrutiny. She pointedly ignored Christine's hand before flicking her glance to Erik, and gave Christine a tiny, tight smile. "Hello," she said crisply before standing from the table and swiftly leaving the kitchen. She was out of the house a moment later, the door slamming behind her.

Christine turned to Erik, the first signs of distress crossing her face. "Erik, I'm sorry, I don't know what I did wrong,"

Erik moved to her and placed his hands over her shoulders. "No, no, Christine. You were fine," he soothed. He could never understand what she had been through, but this had been Christine's first meeting with people outside of the tiny circle who knew what she really was. Erik moved his hands slightly, moving so that his thumb rubbed the edge of her collarbone, while his other hand cupped her face.

Erik surprised himself by kissing her cheek. It was a gesture meant for her comfort as much as to satisfy his own curiosity- he'd been wondering how she would react to him, if she would ever allow him to…

Now is not the time!

There was genuine worry in Christine's eyes, as if she'd failed some great test and disappointed him horribly. "I promise, you did wonderfully. I'll tell you the truth, I was nervous at first, but everything went perfectly. Mayfair and Joan were just surprised, that's all. I mean, yesterday, there was no one, and now today, here you are, I called you the lady of the house," Erik told her soothingly. He smiled, something he rarely did, in the hopes of having her smile again. "I meant it. You have a home here with me,"

A tear had escaped the corner of her eye, and Christine quickly brushed it away. She took a few quick breaths to steady herself; the slight redness around her eyes and nostrils dissipated almost instantly, leaving her skin as smooth and white as Italian marble. Erik tried not to look as surprised as he felt- the evidence of her upset has disappeared in moments, she truly was superhuman!

Erik guided her to the table. "Please, sit down, Christine. I'll make you breakfast. I…mm, I read in Victor's notes that you might be in need of protein and iron soon." Erik said. If he was to somehow build a life with this amazing young woman, he knew that they would need to communicate freely about the mysteries that only Christine knew about herself.

He glanced over at her in time to see her nod. "Yes, the fluid that he gave me…you saw that, didn't you? You watched Victor inject me; he brought me to life on your sofa. From what I understand, not everyone is born that way." She said softly, almost as if to herself. She turned her wondrous eyes to Erik, and gave him a small smile. "We're all in desperate need of protein and iron sometime within the first day, just to build up our strength after the fluid infuses our muscles."

Erik nodded. "I understand. How does a plate of eggs and sausage sound to you?"

Christine traced the pattern of the tablecloth with the tip of her long pale index finger. "You might want to study Victor's notes a little closer, Erik. To start, I'll need about four plates,"

Erik raised his brow, but he didn't attempt to refute her words. He trusted that she knew her own body better than he ever could. "Right then. Four plates it is,"