Christine kept to her word and began to attend mass regularly. Every Wednesday and Sunday morning she could be seen accompanying her masked husband to the church. She still sat in the back pew but she kept her head up and managed surprisingly well without him by her side, even smiling and making small talk with a few of the women as she waited for him after the service.

Thriving, that was what Erik considered it. It seemed such a small thing but it wasn't, not for his wife who had been so intent on shuttering herself away from the world. And when he had offered her a pocketbook to go shopping she had taken it with a gentle kiss.

Three hours seemed such a short amount of time, but it wasn't for his wife. And that is how long she was out without him - for three hours. When she returned home it was with four dresses, smart as always, but each one slightly more elegant than those she had chosen in the past.

"If I am meant to be the wife of the mysterious organist than I must keep up appearances," she had said with a smile.

He had a sort of epiphany over those few weeks. He had been wrong. Love, he had been wrong about love. He had expected far too much, thinking that if only she could love him everything would be set right, that all of their problems would vanish. But that wasn't right at all - love was not some magical spell. He had learned that with his wife's sadness. Love was ups and downs, love was supporting his wife through her pain, love was holding each other together even when it seemed impossible.

And suddenly the vows he had made seemed much more understandable.

And finally, one night as they lay close to one another in bed, her warm breath ghosting over his chest he asked the question that had been in the back of his mind.

"Christine?"

"Hmm?" She hummed.

"I know... I know that you don't like to speak of the past. I have something to ask you but I - I don't want to upset you," he mumbled.

She burrowed closer to him with a sigh. And then she nodded. "You can ask me anything Erik," she whispered.

He brushed his fingers against her temple, pushing her tangled hair out of her face. "Why - why did you let me take you? You claimed not to love me, but you still ran with me. Why?"

Her eyes closed as she nuzzled against him, and slowly a soft smile came to her. "I think - I think I did love you Erik. Even then I think I did." She sighed and opened her eyes, peeking up at him. "I was unhappy," she admitted. "And you - you, who I tried so hard to be rid of, you haunted me all those months. You were constantly in my thoughts. I don't think I was ready to admit it, even to myself. But I was so unhappy and I - once you were there I couldn't bear the thought of living the rest of my life wondering what might have been."

"And are you glad that you took the chance?" He murmured.

She was pulling herself up, pressing her lips gently to his. "I am," she said softly.

"Even - even if I can't give you a child?" He whispered the question.

"Erik," she breathed sadly, pulling away just enough to look him in the eyes. "Is that truly what you think? I know, I admit that I have been difficult," she murmured, and slowly her hand came up, cupping his unmasked cheek in her palm. "But you have been so good to me, and so understanding. I do - I do want children, but they will not make me love you any more or less."

"All you have dreamt of since Gustave is a family," he said softly.

And she smiled a soft, sad smile. "I have," she admitted. "But I was wrong, I think. I already have a family - it is small, but it's a family. I have you; you are my family. And even if we never have children I will always be grateful and love my family dearly, regardless of how small or large it is."

He could do nothing but pull her closer. And slowly she reached her hand up, entwining her fingers with his.

They didn't speak of that conversation again, there was no need to.

And when her menses would come she no longer pushed him away, sinking into her sadness. Instead she would act just the same as any other day, only playfully swatting his hand away and reminding him of the unfortunate biology of women if he got a bit too excited. She was still sad, he knew that well enough, but it was no longer the deep sadness that had plagued her - instead it was a superficial sadness, something that sat just on the surface.

And for a few long months they were happy.

It was during the fourth week of his employment that he convinced her to accompany him to the church late on a Monday evening. She had argued with him, insisting that she didn't want to get him into trouble, that surely the Father would not be happy if she tagged along to distract him. But Erik had dismissed her fears with a wave of his hand and a smile.

"There is nothing even saying that he is there right now, Christine," he said, and slowly he pressed his lips to hers. "And I promise you that if he is he will not be upset to find you there."

Reluctantly she had agreed.

"It's odd to find this place so empty," she had said as he walked her up the aisle.

He hummed, pressing his lips to her temple. "Does it make you nervous?"

"No," she said with a laugh. "It is just odd."

When he sat at the organ's bench and bade her to sit with him she bit her lip, looking about nervously.

"I'm going to get you into trouble," she said.

"How?" He murmured with an encouraging smile. "Unless you plan on being wildly inappropriate I see no reason that I shouldn't be allowed to bring my wife with me."

She sighed and gave in, finally sitting beside him.

It took a solid half of an hour of playing to relax her enough to convince her to sing for him.

"We have no piano," he said to her. "It would be a good opportunity, and come. Ave Maria - there is nothing wrong with singing Ave Maria in a church, is there?"

"I suppose not," she agreed.

"In the original German - you do know it, yes?"

"I know it," she said with a nod.

And with a nod he began to play. When she didn't begin to sing he made a round, continuing to play the opening chords. "Whenever you are ready, Christine," he said gently to her. And it was on the fourth round that she finally began to sing.

It was quiet, drowned out by the pipe organ. "Sing, Christine," he said to her. "You have more power to your voice - this is not a piano, love."

He spoke as he continued to play, and when her voice grew with his words he found himself completely satisfied.

"Good," he said to her.

Her eyes were sliding closed as she sang, finding power to her voice that he hadn't heard in a long while - she was entranced by the music.

And halfway through her song when the Father walked up the aisle Erik drew no attention, continuing to play as he looked over his shoulder, giving the man a soft smile and a curt nod.

The Father said nothing, sitting in the very front pew that Erik had often occupied with him. He smiled, looking completely surprised. It was often that the Father would find his way into the hall, content to listen to Erik's music, but today he looked completely enthralled.

And as her voice soared over the last Ave Maria she nearly collapsed, drawing in a deep breath.

"Lovely, Christine," Erik said to her. "How did that feel?"

"Good," she said softly, her fingers trembling. "I - it has been a long time since I've felt that way."

"It feels a bit like coming home, doesn't it?" He murmured softly.

She nodded, giving him a smile as her shaking fingers rested gently against his arm. "That's exactly it."

"Mrs. Mulheim, you have a lovely voice," the Father said, standing from the pew.

"Oh!" She said in surprise, jumping away from her husband quickly. "I'm so sorry," she said nervously. "I didn't - I didn't mean to intrude."

The Father waved his hand as though dismissing her apology. "There is no intrusion to apologize for," he said. "You are always welcome here, as is your husband. I must admit, that was perhaps the most beautiful Ave Maria I have ever heard."

She blushed at that, glancing toward Erik who only nodded at her. "Thank you," she murmured.

"I mean it," the Father said. "Your husband speaks fondly of your talent - and I must admit that I have heard a word or two from those who sit near you during service, I have been told that you have the voice of an angel," he smiled. "And it is true - I feel blessed to have heard it for myself."

"He is right, Christine," Erik said evenly. "And I think you are ready."

"What?" She said, looking between the two men and seeming suddenly nervous.

When her eyes finally met Erik's again he smiled softly. "You are ready. Your voice is strong, your technique has recovered - there is not much more to be done. You are ready for the stage."