Bit of a wonky day for me today (or week really). Start orientation for a new job tomorrow, new medication, an apparently broken review system on FF... Has me all a bit down. Oh yes, and the frustration of trying to book tickets to Scotland without going bankrupt! It's not going well. And this is not getting me in a very good mental place for starting my new book, and here I was so excited for in December... Le sigh...

But, as promised, a new update!

xi

Christine could not stop touching her new ring. There was something charming in its simplicity, something endearing in the way it mimicked her papa's. And Erik had chosen it.

"We must discuss how your evenings could be formed more to your liking."

Christine's smile faded, not liking the turn of their conversation. Jewelry was nice; speaking about all of her lonely and abandoned feelings was not.

"I really do understand," she assured him. "I just need to find new ways to occupy myself, that's all. I can't be adding one more thing to your list of responsibilities."

Erik shook his head. "If you are bored or unhappy, I am not performing my job adequately." He looked at her intently. "And I would prefer to prove most satisfactory in my performance."

Christine's mouth suddenly seemed to lack moisture, and she reached for her glass of water and took a few slow, methodical sips as she tried to gather her thoughts. "I... I could get a library card," she suggested, finding that she couldn't quite look at him. Not when his eyes and his tone had affected her so. "I only brought a few books with me and while I love them, I need something new."

Erik's lips turned downward. "Books? That is all that would please you?"

What did he want for her to say? That she would much prefer that he sit and talk with her, that the idea of introducing music back into her life—their lives—was an appealing one? It was all true, but she trespassed on his thoughtfulness frequently enough without also haranguing him during his free time.

"Yes, unless you want for me to be absolutely truthful."

Erik's eyes glittered strangely and he sat back in his chair, his gaze never leaving her. It made her skin prickle. "I would be most offended if I learned you were attempting deceit, Christine. You must be honest with me in all things."

Christine plucked at her napkin, knowing full well there were thoughts she most certainly would not be sharing with him. It was true that there had to be some kind of understanding between them, otherwise she might be tempted to act on her desire to slip away from the house, to take walks and explore her new home unaccompanied. She was unused to having to check with another before she followed her whims, and while Erik had assured her that he was happy to join her if ever she should wish to leave, when he was locked away in his room, the front door beckoned her—that maybe she could find a friend somewhere to share an evening with her.

But he would be cross with her if she mentioned that. She knew how dangerous that would be—that she would end up putting both her life and his job at risk if she left again without informing him. She still bristled somewhat at having to apologize when she'd slipped away to purchase her feminine supplies, but in her more generous moments she recognized her error.

Honesty. It was what he requested, and what she could at least... attempt to provide.

"We could... take walks. I'd like to get to know the area better and maybe I'll start feeling more settled. More at home."

Erik did not look particularly pleased, but he did not reject her idea outright. "You would allow me to accompany you?"

Christine tried to smile, but she knew it looked rather forced. "If you'd like to. I don't want to force you into anything, but I'm aware that it would be dangerous if I went by myself."

Something changed in his expression, but she could not exactly determine its cause. "So you would prefer to go alone."

Christine shook her head fervently, remembering how he had twisted her words during their travels, her innocent comments taken so very personally. "I don't want you to have to do things you don't want to. I can only ask you to do so much with me simply because it's your job. I'm not that selfish." Or at least, she wasn't trying to be. It was so easy to take advantage of someone so intent on pleasing her, and she could not— would not—allow herself to abuse his generosity.

If only he could understand that.

Erik sighed, his long arms crossing over his chest as he continued to stare at her. "Speak plainly, Christine. What would you ask of me?"

She was very nearly irritated that he would insist she ask so directly, especially when his feelings on the subject remained a mystery. "Only if you do the same," she unthinkingly retorted, ready to clap a hand over her mouth when she realized she had spoken at all. "I'm sorry, that wasn't called for."

Instead of chastising her for her rudeness, Erik inclined his head slightly and gestured for her to continue. "A reasonable trade. So I shall ask again. What would make you happy?" His lips thinned. "Or if such a thing is not possible, at the very least, more content?"

Christine kept fiddling with her napkin, feeling as if he was exposing some of her innermost desires to his perusal. Perhaps she should simply list a few more activities that appealed to her. Or admitted that she missed his company in the evenings.

But instead she found herself describing the life she found most ideal.

And perhaps he could pick for himself what could be most reasonably accomplished.

"Papa always said I belonged on the stage. And I did... do... love it. There's something thrilling about it, though terrifying at the same time. All those people staring, your voice mingling with the instruments and the other singers..." Christine grimaced. "But I think he'd be ashamed of me. He thought I would go so far, but when he died..." Her shoulders rose and fell, not dissimilar to her mood. "I feel like that part of me died with him. The theatre was kind and kept me, but I had no illusions that I would suddenly become the Prima Donna. Not with how I'd been acting."

Erik was studying her, something calculating in his gaze. "If you had been tutored, would you have felt differently?"

Her brow furrowed. "Maybe? I don't know. Papa was always the one teaching me, helping me. Our evenings would be spent just the two of us, me singing and him playing after we'd finished the dinner dishes. I miss that..." But this was not what he'd asked, so she pushed away those thoughts to center more upon his question. "So I had to start thinking of new dreams; ones that at least had a hope of being fulfilled one day."

"Such as?" There was something in his tone that suggested he was not entirely pleased she had sacrificed the old one, but that could not be helped. She was rather glad of it now, because unless there was a theatre near here that she had yet to have seen, her work from now on would not resemble what she'd known.

"A family. A home. Someone who loves me. All those domestic things that people can take for granted when it all seems so very normal." She wouldn't cry. She simply wouldn't. "But I haven't had that in a very long time, and when I think about what I want most... How could the stage ever compare to someone laughing with me over dinner? Or someone being there after I've had a nightmare and I just need someone to hold me?"

She knew now that none of this would be helpful in his quest to find a way to improve her contentment here. He could provide none of this without crossing a great host of ethical boundaries, and she was not entirely certain that she wanted him to be the one to offer them.

Though the longer she spent with him, the more she was convinced that she would also find him to be disagreeable if the situation grew more long term.

"You wish for... a companion."

Christine almost grimaced at that. "You make it sound like I could have gotten a puppy and it would have been the same."

Maybe it would have been. A puppy loved anyone who fed and played with it. It would always be happy to see her when she came home, and would likely be interested in whatever kitchen happenings held her attention.

Maybe that would have been safer, just to tell him she wished to have an animal as a friend.

But she hadn't.

"My apologies. A husband, then. You wished for the constancy of another male relationship that this time would last the entirety of your life."

Christine flushed. "When you put it like that, I sound very selfish. I wanted to take care of him too, you know. I wasn't... I wasn't just going to claim someone and make him take care of me, and forget all about his needs. Is it so wrong to just want someone to be there?"

Erik looked at her in that strange way, his eyes so fervent that she could very nearly feel them staring at her.

"No, it certainly is not."

When he had asked Christine to enlighten him as to what would make her happy, this was not at all what he had expected. It was not that he assumed she was a wholly materialistic girl, one who would accept whatever bauble was given to her and she would be sufficiently entertained for an hour.

Or perhaps he had. Just a little.

But evidently her desires were more difficult to procure, without submitting himself totally and completely into the spell of her charms and beauty.

He was only a man, and yet here she nearly pleaded for companionship. He wanted to throw himself at her feet. To confess everything with the hope that she might be able to look beyond his failings, his hideousness, if only she would love him.

And he be allowed to love her in return.

But he could not. Not when she would want some handsome man to woo her—one that could promise her not only love and undying devotion, but pretty children for her to dote upon.

And he had found not one woman who was willing to allow his touch.

Not that he had made too many enquiries. He had not needed to, not when their eyes widened with such fear. Some did not. Some were drawn to his power, and offered him their sexual favors in return for wealth and comfort.

Perhaps a small part of him had been tempted—to know, to experience, what the rest of humanity indulged in so freely.

But he did not. Not with them. Not with their coldness and their scheming and their hunger for a bit of his power—not yet realizing that he was as much a slave as they were.

He was not now. But Christine was not making him an offer, he told himself. She was merely expressing her hidden desires, and it was now his responsibility to glean what he could make possible for her.

Aside from returning to the theatre and bringing her Raoul de Chagny for a husband, he could not think of a single thing. But the thought of that, of him getting to enjoy her smiles, her gentle touches, filled his blood with rage.

Calm.

He would not frighten her.

There was nothing unnatural about what she wanted. It was only that it was impossible for him to provide it himself that made him angry.

Which left only a sense of helplessness.

And evidently, silent for too long.

"You don't have to do anything, or say anything, Erik. I know you can't help me with any of this. But you asked what would make me happy and I got carried away. Like I said, a library card would be fine, and maybe... maybe we could get a DVD player? Some way I could watch movies? This place doesn't have many channels."

She would settle for diversions instead of true happiness, and while the part of him that had bristled so thoroughly when he thought of her with another man was soothed by her assurance, the greater part merely felt miserable at his failure. He had thought he had done the worst thing by ripping her away from the theatre—her shared workplace with her father. Her music. Her career.

But apparently he had robbed her of a chance to have a family.

He truly was a monster.

"Erik? Are you all right?"

Her hand was on his arm again, and for some inexplicable reason, he very nearly wanted to weep as he stared down at it. Cool and detached. That was what he had promised himself. Not to blubber like a schoolboy at the merest kindness.

But it was so new to him, this gentleness. That she might want to touch him to offer comfort, instead of harsh hands meting out punishment for perceived slights. Or merely for having the audacity to exist at all.

"You are not wrong to want those things, Christine. And… you have no way of knowing how much I wish..."

He could not bring himself to tell her more. Tell her that he was sorry. That he hoped that someday she would be able to have those things with a man she loved.

But instead she only had him.

And he could offer her no more than a home to keep out the steady rains, and a ride to the library for books she would not even allow him to purchase for her.

It was a sorry compromise if ever there was one.

Christine continued to look at him worriedly, and he took a shuddering breath in an effort to regain his composure. "Erik, please, tell me what's wrong? You're scaring me."

That was the last thing he desired.

"Do you think," he began carefully, once more trying to manage the line between truth and fiction. "What if you could pretend that it was real? That you are not merely trapped here with me by an accident of circumstance, but that you chose it? That when I offer to supply for your needs, it is not at the expense of the taxpayer, but from my own funds, simply because I wish to care for you? Is that… is that too much to ask?"

Of course, what he wanted most was for her to be able to imagine that they were a couple. That they were now in their first house, and she would have the joy of decorating it as she wished to make it more than merely a dwelling.

It would be a home.

Erik was unused to such thoughts, such simple pleasures. Life had hardened him, honed his cynicism to a masterfully wielded weapon, one that he used frequently within his own mind. And yet with her… he wished for more.

And it frightened him. More than anything in recent memory.

"Erik," Christine murmured, sighing slightly as she did so. "I would love to do that. Forget reality and just pretend. But how can I? When you'd… I'd be in such trouble."

His head cocked slightly to the right. "Why? What would be so troublesome about it?"

She laughed, a rather incredulous sound that displeased him. "So we play pretend, and you're my husband and we're happy together. And then we get the call from Detective Nadir and suddenly… suddenly I'm back at home and you're off with another witness, and…" she took a deep breath, her eyes flicking to meet his. "I don't think I could handle that. Don't you understand? How… painful that would be?"

And he did. He knew. Because even as he pictured a future, a future without her… it was bleak and horrid thing.

When had he grown so attached to her? It seemed the more distance he tried to keep, the more he thought of her. The less time he spent in her presence, the more drawn he was when they were together.

It was strange, and it was dangerous.

But it was real.

"You are right," he admitted quietly, hating that it was true. He knew full well that such a call would never come. And maybe with more time, she could come to accept things on her own. And months and years dragged on and she settled further into her life—their life—maybe then she would not mind so very much at pretending.

But Erik was never a patient man.

Yet before he could urge her further, to persuade her that perhaps there was a better way for them to live, Christine interjected. "Do you think though that… maybe… maybe if I pretend to pretend… that you'd spend more time with me? At least until I can start to make some friends here of my own?"

Erik wanted to protest, and tell her quite firmly that he would be her companion for much longer than she was suggesting. But as he looked at her, her eyes so hopeful as she stared at him, he found himself nodding instead. "Of course, if that is your wish."

It had obviously been wrong to leave her alone for so long. What was meant as a respite for her and a time to soothe his inflamed skin had instead left her feeling bereft. And he would not have her so. Not ever.

"Can we take a walk?"

Erik's gaze flickered toward the window. "It is raining."

"Oh…" Christine hesitated, before she tried again. "A short walk then."

Erik frowned, not certain whether or not he should agree. He would be responsible if she took ill because he had indulged this whim of hers, but he had evidently injured her by his previous actions, and if she was properly bundled…

"You will need proper footwear. And an umbrella."

Christine visibly brightened and it was with only slight trepidation that Erik readied himself, donning his most suitable shoes and coat, grabbing a sturdy umbrella of his own.

He most certainly could not risk his mask being exposed to very much water. The last thing he needed was for his supposed flesh to begin peeling away, frightening Christine.

When he emerged from his room, Christine was waiting, her smile welcoming and her eyes sparkling. She looked… rather adorable, and he was briefly reminded of how she had looked years ago, with her wide eyes and bouncing curls. Her frame was swallowed up quite thoroughly by her raincoat, bright red rubber boots promising to keep her feet from becoming soaked.

And she was waiting to walk with him.

And nothing about her demeanor suggested she begrudged him for it.

"Ready?"

Christine nodded, and he noted with some bemusement that her umbrella was smattered with a variety of differently colored polka dots. A garish and impractical article to be sure.

Yet why did he find it endearing when she carried it?

So distracted was he that he did not at first notice when she had opened the door, stooping lowly at the threshold to pick up something from the front step.

It was not until she paled, her eyes not longer wide and happy but terror filled that spurred him into action.

"Christine?!"

Her fingers trembled as she held out a slip of paper, its envelope already fluttering to the ground.

"He found me… how did he find me?"

Erik took hold of the letter, her fear fueling his own as he scanned its brief contents.

Enjoy your new house, Christine, while you can. And warmest regards to your companion.

Hurry home. There is work to be done.

Sooo... What's going on? Is Erik planting notes? Someone else? But who...

Thank you to all my faithful reviewers! You always make me smile :)