It was half past ten when Christine finally dared to return to the room. She took a deep breath and opened the door, finding Erik sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. He looked up and gave her a tight-lipped smile.

She looked around the room nervously.

"He's gone," Erik said sadly.

She nodded and took a tense breath, biting at her lip.

"He was traveling alone," Erik said quietly. "No one will suspect anything until long after we have docked."

She slowly sat beside him and leaned into him. He pulled her close and pressed his lips to her temple, knowing she needed physical comfort in the moment.

"It's so sad," she whispered. "Everyone should have at least one person who will miss them, who will know they are gone." Her voice was tight.

Erik nodded, stroking her arm. "We know, Christine," he reminded her. She nodded sadly and he sighed. "Would you like to sing his requiem, Christine?"

Her eyes clenched tightly and she nodded, a few tears escaping.

He brushed them away and shushed her. "We will sing his requiem. Quietly, but we will sing it."

"Thank you," her whisper was like a ghost, hollow and quiet.

"Dies Irae," he said. She nodded. "We will sing his requiem and then we will put it behind us and enjoy a dinner, yes Christine?"

She nodded.

"Are you angry with me?" He asked quietly.

She wiped at her tears again. "No," she said. "I'm not angry with you Erik. I am just sad for him."

Erik nodded. "That's natural," he said.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and stood, pulling his violin from beneath their bed, carefully placing it under his chin. "Dies Irae," he reminded her, and she nodded.

He began to play and she joined in, her voice weak and wavering. He didn't chide her for it, he allowed her to grieve over the man that neither of them had known.

"Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine,
et lux perpetua luceat eis.
Te decet hymnus, Deus, in Sion,
et tibi reddetur votum in Jerusalem.
Exaudi orationem meam,
ad te omnis care veniet.
Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine,
et lux perpetua luceat eis."

He would allow her her song if only it eased the guilt that he saw lingering behind her eyes, the uncertainty and the blame she placed on herself. It was much worse than the other time she had witnessed him murder. He supposed it had more to do with the fact that the man was a kind stranger and had intended no ill will. It truly was a shame, but Erik had come to desensitize himself to the killings.

"Kyrie, eleison.
Christe, eleison.
Kyrie, eleison."

He raised his voice with hers, guiding her through the melody. He listened to the way her voice strengthened with his, the sudden confidence and the depth of her emotion. Remorse, perhaps not what he had wanted to hear, but the return of emotion to her vocalization was glorious.

By the end of the requiem Erik found himself in tears. He pulled Christine tight against him.

"You are beautiful," he whispered hoarsely. He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. "Ready yourself for dinner."

She nodded and hesitantly opened the armoire that her dresses were hung in, peeking cautiously inside.

"Christine, he's gone," Erik said quietly. "He is no longer here - you needn't fear."

She let out a huff of breath. "Of course," she whispered, pulling out a dark red dress and stepping behind the changing screen.

"I mean it, Christine," Erik said to her as she changed. "You bear no guilt for this."

She stepped out from behind the screen, changed and twisting her hair up in an intricate fashion, pinning it and allowing a few loose curls to hang. "I know," she responded, sounding surprisingly light for the ordeal she had been through. "I just - I don't want to see him."

"You won't," Erik promised, standing and offering his arm to her.

She took it and clenched tightly onto his sleeve, only digging her fingers in harder when they stepped into the dark passage.

To her surprise, no one gave them a second glance, most of them caught up in their own worlds. Very few people spared them a second glance, with one man even tipping his hat to them, which Erik confidently returned with a flourish.

"We are fine," he murmured to Christine under his breath. "Do you truly think I would allow any harm to befall you?"

She shook her head, loosening her grip only slightly. He turned his arm and slid his sleeve from beneath her hand, opting to enclose her small hand in his instead. She sighed gratefully and relaxed. He gave it a small squeeze. "Relax or I will have to force you to after dinner," he muttered.

She blushed a bright red color and stifled a giggle at his absurdity. He gave her a soft smile. "You should smile more often, love. It is befitting to you."

She blushed even deeper and glanced out over the railing and up to the sky. She took a deep breath of the crisp sea air and smiled. "It's a truly beautiful night," she whispered.

"Mm," he hummed in agreement.

She turned to him with a weak smile. "Thank you for accompanying me to dinner Erik."

He gave her a stiff bow and kissed her hand before opening the door to the dining room for her. "It is my pleasure, Madam," he said, leading her to a nearby table. It was so late the room was nearly empty, and most of its inhabitants consisted of lone men, reading papers and eating their late dinners.

Their dinner was quiet, punctuated by polite conversation that was truly meaningless, both too afraid to breach any subjects that may pique a near-by listener's attention.

It was after Christine set down her silverware that Erik checked his pocket watch. He stood and offered his hand to Christine, leading her out a different way than they came.

She took in a deep breath of the fresh air and when she heard music, she looked to Erik in surprise.

He gave her a half smile and lead her around the corner, onto an open deck where the ship's band played.

"How did you know, Erik?"

He smiled and shrugged, bowing and kissing her hand again.

"I know many things," he said, a sparkle of amusement behind his eye. "May I have this dance?"

She blushed and took his hand, allowing him to pull her far closer than was proper as he swayed them across the deck. It was a simple three-step waltz, but Christine enjoyed it immensely.

His hand traveled up her back and brushed against her hair that hung just past her shoulders.

"It pains me, but we will have to cut your hair tonight. You are far too easily recognizable."

She nodded with a soft smile. If Erik wanted to cut her hair, she would let him. It made no real difference to her.

He pulled her closer. "You are lovely Christine," he whispered to her. "And you did quite impress me today, in more ways than one."

She brought her hand up to stroke his cheek. And though her face grew red in embarrassment, he found nothing but joy in his heart when she smiled softly at him.

"Can we go back to our room?"

For a moment he thought he had imagined her question. But her eyes were steady on his, even through the shame burning in her cheeks.

He nodded, unable to respond immediately. He swallowed thickly before hoarsely replying, "I would like that."

She blushed again and dropped her eyes from his with a shy smile, but she followed his quick steps with confidence.