Christine awoke to a thundering headache and weak limbs. She stumbled when getting out of bed and saw heavy bags under her eyes, her face framed with frizzy hairs that had escaped her braid. Immediately upon seeing her, the rest of the staff asked if she felt ill.

"Oh what a tragedy! To be sick on Christmas day." Ruth bemoaned and set about making a broth for Christine to drink,

The girl swayed and quickly sat down to avoid collapsing "I promise I am fine, I simply did not sleep well after all the excitement."

Even though the staff had been given the day off to spend with their loved ones, all offered to stay with her until she felt well again, but Christine shushed their worries and shooed them out the door. Raoul took more persuasion than the rest, but when she stated she would sleep all day and his worrying would most probably worsen her aches, he hesitantly bid her farewell. Her headache was mildly appeased when she drank the warm broth Ruth had prepared for her, but returned full force when she dropped the clay mug, causing it to shatter on the floor.

Very uncharacteristically of Christine, she swore under her breath and clutched her temples before looking around for a broom. Instead she saw Master Destler in the doorway, looking on with concern.

"Oh, I'm so very sorry about the mug," She slurred and put a hand on the counter to steady herself.

"Christine, are you feeling well?" He asked gently, taking a step towards her.

She nodded quickly and groaned as the movement made her already pounding head worsen. Her knees gave out from under her and he was across the room in an instant, arms supporting her fragile weight before she hit the ground. Christine's hands went to his shoulders and she fought to stay coherent.

"I may be a slight bit ill." She admitted and didn't have the strength to feel surprised when Erik lifted her up and carried her to the stairs. Her eyes were closed during the journey to the third floor, hands still on Master Destler's shoulders for balance while he held her in a bridal hold. She peeked through half closed lids when they entered a room, which she recognized as one of the guest suits. With great caution, Erik set her down on the bed and draped a heavy blanket over her. Her attempts at protest were ignored.

"Stay still and rest," he commanded with a tone of finality that left no room for opposition.

Obediently she let her eyes drift closed as he left the room. She must have fallen asleep, the mattress was heavenly after all, and she awoke to Erik holding a bowl of delicious smelling liquid. He propped her up so she was sitting and she extended her hands for the bowl. He eyed her fingers, which shook violently, and she sheepishly withdrew them. Not saying a word, he dipped a spoon into the stew and carefully lifted it to her lips. Christine blushed at being treated like a child but gratefully drank the satisfying spoonful.

He continued to feed her the soup until she was full and her eyes drooped with exhaustion. Another blanket was draped across her and she felt a coal pan being slipped beneath the sheets under her feet to warm the icy appendages. As Erik moved to leave she suddenly remembered it was, in fact, Christmas day.

"Excuse me?" The phrase was quiet and broken by her weak throat but immediately he was by her side, looking eager to cater to her.

"In my room, there are some boxes on my vanity… would you please bring them to me?" Christine whispered shyly.

He nodded in affirmation, eyes sharpening in determination to complete the task, and faster than her dizzy mind could process he was out of the room. An incredibly short amount of time later he returned, and she suspected that he ran both ways.

He placed the two dainty boxes on her lap and she selected the relatively flat one which was adorned with a blue bow. Using great concentration she handed it to him, declaring "Happy Christmas," with a weak yet heartfelt smile.

Erik accepted the box with confusion on his face and stood there holding it. She watched him for a minute before nervously motioning towards the box "It is my present to you."

He looked taken aback at the statement and stared down at the small gift incredulously. Then, with reverent enthusiasm he removed the bow and opened the box to find a folded pocket square inside. Lifting the cloth from the box, which he set aside with care, he observed the detailed embroidery work on its border before his eyes fell on the elaborate "ED" which was sewn into a corner of the fabric. His gaze returned to her shy expression and she picked at the blanket in her lap.

"I know it's not much, and it isn't very fancy but I have found more time to do embroidery and thought you might enjoy something homemade…"

She trailed off and Erik felt tears prick in his eyes at the realization that her present, the first he had ever received, was not only for him but crafted by her own hands. She had made this beautiful object with her own, perfect hands specifically for him.

"It is perfect" he blurted out "the most thoughtful gesture anyone has made me."

She grinned happily and he joyously observed the expression. She looked back at the other small box and turned it over in her hands with a sigh.

"I had hoped to give this to Meg but I doubt I will see her today."

Erik knelt beside her, the pocket square held preciously in his left hand. "I could deliver it on your behalf."

She vehemently shook her head in refusal "Oh no, I can't ask that of you. You're my employer for goodness sake; it's my job to deliver things for you."

"But you are not well, I think it is perfectly reasonable you allow me to do this service."

She blushed "Well, there's also the complication of where she is… I doubt you would ever wish to go there."

"It will be nothing."

With eyes averted she explained that Meg works at a bar that is not the most savory of establishments. Once being told of the location, Erik plucked the box from her lap and stood to exit the room, demanding she get some sleep while he is out. Obediently she relaxed into the downy comfort of the bed and allowed her eyes to close.

When she next awoke, the room was dimming and her headache had faded with the light. Erik sat in a chair some feet from the bed she lay in, reading a book. He looked up when she stirred and immediately set the volume aside and approached her.

"How was the delivery?"

A look of discomfort settled over his features "Successful, I found your friend and informed her the gift was a Christmas package from you. Though not until after her peers assumed I was a, ahem- customer."

Christine's face flushed and she hid in her hands "Oh I am so sorry! I should have warned you but it's rather embarrassing…"

He chuckled "I would assume so. You are feeling better, it seems."

"Yes, much."

She looked out the window to catch sight of the sun setting over the city. Snow coated nearly every surface of the garden, creating a drastic contrast against the dirty brown of downtown. Erik left and returned with more of the stew from earlier, this time also bringing two small rolls. She placed the food on her lap and tore up the bread, dropping the hunks into the broth and happily eating the soaked bites of sourdough. Erik resumed his position in the chair and opened his book again. He was wearing a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a vest buttoned over it. His trousers were long and black, fastened in place by suspenders that ran under his vest. She noticed he was wearing house slippers which looked out of place on his otherwise formally dressed body.

When she finished the food, she set the bowl on the small table beside the bed. Erik took note of this but did not move to get up. As the room fell into a gray darkness with the last few rays of sunlight, Christine drifted off into a peaceful sleep, feeling safe with her maestro watching over her.