He had come one night with the strange air about him that Christine had only seen before in one who was sleep walking. Yet she was quite sure he was conscious, if not in his right of mind. She had been sat at the edge of the bed at the time, reading one of the many books from the library that she had reluctantly delved into, if only to cease the boredom and distract herself. Erik had moved about the house that day as if in a sense of mourning, never speaking a word to anyone even when Christine had given into her worries and begged him to play the piano, teach her something, anything to take him away from the all too disturbing nature with which he had lived the day.
Eventually, too scared to continue watching him, she had fled to her room where she waited.
Christine did not know what time it was when Erik ventured to her room. He gave no warning, and upon seeing the door open Christine flung the book in her hands to the floor, crawling away to the corner of the mattress as far as she could. Seeing that dazed, haunted look in his eye, she could not help but stiffen in slight fear. It was a new sight to see, she had to admit.
"It's late," she said shakily, grasping backwards until she found the bedpost behind her. "What do you want?"
He did not answer directly, instead reaching into his pocket to pull out an item that Christine could not quite see. Her curiosity was brimming, and despite herself she leant forward in an almost child like fashion to gain a closer look. Though it should have made him smile, Christine noted that Erik did not do so, still looking as if into space, yet a purpose still shining through.
Erik approached the bed slowly, not looking away from Christine, the item still concealed in his hand. A small smile playing on her lips, Christine moved forward again, on her knees at the edge of the bed. It was childish, she knew, but the fact that he had finally made the effort to make contact with her after this long, silent day delighted her in a way she could not quite explain.
"What is it?" Christine asked, surprised at her own intrigue. Her eyes moved from his hand that had tightened slightly around the object to his face, which was turned down slightly to watch her. Still dazed, still without any severe level of concentration that would befit the living. "Show me."
"You'll promise to say thank you?" Erik said, his voice still strong and yet his demeanour so young that Christine was mildly surprised.
"Yes, Erik."
"And you will enjoy it?"
"I'm sure I will, Erik, now show me!"
The corner of his lip turned in an absent smile as Erik released his hand, revealing a small glint of gold in his palm. Christine looked down in a small sense of wonder as she looked at the ring that lay there, her smile disappearing as the sense of surprise overtook her. She did not know why, but the idea of a ring had never quite crossed her mind. Quite suddenly she shook her head and looked up towards Erik, smiling as brightly as she could. He had finally found a way of speaking again, and she was reluctant to resort back to the silence. It seemed safest to appease him at this time.
"It's very pretty," she said reassuringly. "You mean it's for me?"
Nodding, Erik held out his other hand, gesturing for hers. Christine obliged somewhat tentatively, not quite sure whether she was glad to accept this gift. She knew that she had no choice, though, and allowed the ring to be slipped onto her finger. There was a moments silence in which Erik only stared down at her hand, a faint glimmer in his eyes telling her that he was waking from his dream like state.
"It was my mother's," Erik said quietly, sombrely. Christine looked up abruptly. He had never spoken of his family before, and she had almost forgotten that he must have had a family at some point.
"Your mother?" Christine asked as nonchalantly as she could, though the clear shock in her expression did nothing but betray her. "Would she mind?"
"Her jewellery was never her highest priority while I existed."
"That sounds lovely," she said with a smile, unable to help but be lifted by the hint of affection. The smile slipped away slowly as Erik's gaze returned to her face, the sight of those mourning eyes sending shivers down her spine.
"Lovely? No. Erik would have begged for simple niceties, and had never quite dreamt of lovely."
"But… but I thought you said-"
"She loathed me," Erik interrupted, as if he had tried to bite back the words. "Since Erik was born, there was no room in her except for her fear and hatred."
Christine nodded, unsure of how to respond in a way that would not aggravate him further. Even by this point, his breathing seemed somewhat laboured in a manner that frightened her slightly.
"It's very pretty," Christine repeated in a lame attempt to distract. "Thank you."
At this, it seemed as though Erik was revived somewhat, back straightened slightly. The hint of gratefulness has made him alert, and for a moment Christine wondered if he would somehow be forced into at the very least a smile. He did not seem to have the heart to push such a boundary, instead extending a hand tentatively towards her. It took a moment before Christine realised what it was that he wished, and she lay her left hand in his gently as if she were touching a wild animal.
"You do like it, then?"
"Very much, Erik," Christine said quietly, reluctantly forced by her better self to tell the truth.
The words seemed to inspire enough happiness perhaps not for a smile, but for the drive to make Erik lift the hand to his lips, his head bowed in a prayer like manner. He waited there, simply resting within the safety of that contact, revelling in the touch of skin upon skin. Christine waited for a short while, watching him with a certain wariness that she was quite used to at this point in time. Finally she felt the tears drop to her skin, gentle and bitter.
"Thank you," he murmured, kissing her hand once more in earnest as his other hand snaked around her waist, pulling her closer. Christine could only allow it, unable to find herself surprised any longer yet still curious as to what his intentions were. Her right hand still lay limply by her side, and in an act of compassion that she could not suppress or explain Christine raised it to his shoulder in a half hearted encouragement to his embrace.
"There's no need to cry," Christine whispered, shivering slightly at the sight of this man once more broken before her. She did not know why these moments of compassion or even mild gratitude drove him to tears. True, it was one of the lesser questions running through her mind for the most part, but she had waited through his tears without asking, and now could no longer restrain it.
"Why do you cry, Erik?"
He did not stop, nor slow in his tears, but released her hand and placed his against her back, pulling her in closer still. Christine feared that she would be pulled from the bed with the force that he used and so gripped onto his shoulders tightly, eyes widened as his face burrowed into her shoulder. No sounds were made, and for a short while all that there was were the soft feeling of tears.
"You have shown me the only kindnesses I have known, Christine," Erik said eventually, his voice level and calm, strange compared to the tears.
"That's silly, I'm not the only person to do so." For a moment Christine pondered on this; she said the words as if she were comforting a friend, a friend who said something petty in a moment of anger or pain. Yet he always seemed to feel with such earnest that it did not seem like an over reaction.
"Do not underestimate the effect that your words have," he replied after a poignant pause.
"I'm hardly ever kind to you," Christine murmured, though her hands slid from his shoulders about his neck, the mourning in his voice driving her to draw him closer. He always seemed to have such a power in his voice to spur the strangest actions from her.
The change in Christine's hold on him moved Erik to an almost mournful, shaking sigh as he tightened his grip and fell forward. Christine's eyes widened slightly as she felt her back press into the mattress, unsure of how to react. Erik held her closely, his masked face still buried in the crook of her neck as he protectively pinned her to the bed, unmoving for a while as he seemed to revel in the closeness. He remained still for quite some time before the smooth masked nose traced down to her collarbone, the shuddering breath he emitted sending shivers through Christine's skin.
"Erik," she whispered as warningly as she could, frozen in fear and unable to push him away. He did not seem to listen, though, still dazed in his state of dreamlike consciousness. A hand moved its way to nestle in her hair as dry lips gently brushed against her neck, increasing the shivers that now seemed constant.
For a moment Christine could not help but attempt to prepare herself. She had wondered for some time, ever since the moment she signed that slip of paper, if Erik might one night come to collect. It would seem as if it were the obvious thing to do, and yet he had always kept his distance. Until tonight. Uttering a small shaking sigh, Christine stiffened slightly and moved her hands once more, no longer frozen with fear. She placed the heel of her palms firmly against his shoulders, trying to at least push him far away enough to look at her.
"Erik," she whispered once more, trying yet again to be firm despite the quiver in her voice. "You promised me."
At this, finally Erik paused. He looked up, those tired amber eyes looking at her as if suddenly far more conscious of his surroundings than before. He did not move despite the fact that Christine could quite clearly see that he recognised his situation. Perhaps he simply did not believe what he had been doing, or perhaps he had it in his mind to continue. Christine waited as patiently as she could, but could feel her body shaking ever so slightly as the anticipation drew on.
Then there came the swift movement as Erik stood, and before Christine had fully sat up on the edge of the bed he was already by the doorway, still watching her but his posture indicating some form of reluctance, some form of resignation.
"You must always wear that ring," he said quietly, his words sounding far more his own now, rather than his previous dream like quality. "As long as you wear that ring, Erik will always be a doting husband. He will always be wary, and cautious, and loving. As long as you wear that ring."
Christine nodded, not quite fully understanding why he said such things, but knowing it was not best to push such an issue. He looked so shaken that she doubted he would be able to answer any of her questions at that moment in time.
"I'll wear it," Christine said as if to assure him further, as if he needed that encouragement. "I promise."
The slightest ghost of a smile seemed to pass Erik's lips, though he knew now what could happen when he let his happiness come forth. They both knew now. Erik bowed his head ever so slightly before turning again to the door and disappearing without a footstep or a creak, ever the phantom. Christine watched the now closed doorway for some time after that, unsure that she was truly alone. She could never be sure that he was not waiting on the other side of the doorway, listening to her sleep or contemplating entering the room. The lack of certainty had always, and always would continue to put her on edge. Finally, though, the fatigue wore on, and Christine had no choice but to ignore the doorway, and hope for the best.