AN: I apologize for how long this update took. I intended to update back in July and it just didn't happen. I kind of lost where I was going with the story, so it's been extra difficult to get back into it. I think I've got a handle on it now, however, and I should be able to update a few more times before the end of the year.
In the end, Christine wore a dressing gown over her still-damp underclothes. To appease Erik, who was worried that she would fall ill, she draped a blanket across her shoulders and she curled up in the bed while he went to fetch them some food. When he returned with two plates of simple but delicious-smelling food, he found that she'd fallen asleep.
For a long moment, he stood frozen to a spot just a few steps inside the room, watching her as she slept. So peacefully she sleeps, even after all I've put her through, he thought, shaking his head as he willed himself forward.
"Ch-Christine?" he stammered. Damn, he thought immediately. Where was the suave Phantom he'd once been?
The woman's eyes clenched shut even tighter than before, then fluttered open. For a brief moment, Christine was confused by her surroundings. For so long they had stayed in that small country house that any other surroundings seemed wrong. "Erik?" she asked as she sat up.
Erik set his own plate down at the small desk in the corner of their room before bringing Christine's to her and placing it on the bedside table. "You should eat," he said, regaining some of the confidence he'd lost watching her sleep. How can she still trust me enough to fall asleep so easily in my presence?
As if to answer for her, Christine's stomach growled loudly as Erik spoke. She giggled as she smiled up at Erik. "Thank you," she said, "Sorry I fell asleep waiting for you, I guess I was really tired."
"You've nothing to apologize for," the masked man replied quickly, "after such a rough night followed by a long walk, you deserve your rest." Christine eagerly investigated the plate he'd laid before her. She couldn't quite identify what it was, but it smelled good and tasted better than it smelled.
Erik retrieved his plate and sat near her. They ate in silence, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence, as so many of their silences were.
After Erik went to return the plates to the kitchen, he expected to find Christine sleeping once more when he got back to the room. To his surprise, she was sitting upright and looking at him with bright eyes not unlike the way he'd seen her look when she was still dancing at the opera house. For a moment, she looked like that young girl that he knew she still was beneath the hardened exterior she now had.
"Will you sing for me, Erik?" she asked quietly as he closed the door. Erik sat at the foot of the bed, allowing his hip to just barely brush against Christine's toes through layers of blanket.
"What would you like me to sing?" he asked. Christine thought for a moment, then shrugged.
"Anything," she said. When he hesitated, unsure of what she would want to hear, she urged him on. "Please? It feels like ages have passed since I last heard my Angel sing."
"Will you sing with me?" he asked. Christine's heart fluttered and she could feel the color drain from her face.
"Erik, I couldn't possibly-" she shook her head, "I haven't sung in so long, I don't think I can anymore." She looked away from him so he couldn't meet her eyes. Not that I could still form my mouth right to sing properly anyway, she thought miserably. Where Raoul had disfigured her she had a hard time getting her lips to close. It made her speech a bit more difficult to understand, but Erik would never admit that he sometimes had a hard time understanding what she was saying.
"Now, how can you know that without even trying?" Erik asked, raising the eyebrow that was visible questioningly. Christine glanced up at him, still determined not to meet his eye.
"I can't," she repeated.
"You won't be in front of an audience. It's just you and me. I was your teacher, remember? I helped you find your voice, I helped your song take wing."
"Erik, please," Christine cried, "I can't do it."
"One line. Just sing one line for me. If you sing one line for me I'll sing for you all you want all night," Erik begged, his amber eyes pleading with her as she finally met his gaze.
For a moment, both of them were silent. Christine sat up a bit straighter and cleared her throat, closing her eyes as her heart sped up.
As Christine opened her mouth and began to sing, Erik's spirit soared. He closed his eyes and let her voice wash over him. Her lack of practice was apparent, but just to hear her sing once more felt like a finer gift than any gold or silver any king ever received.