Erik blinked at the second bag she was carrying with her. She pulled up a second chair to the desk, directly across from Erik and sat down in it, pulling a box of food out of the bag.
"We are to dine together, then?" he asked, unwrapping his own food.
She raised an eyebrow.
"Well, did you think I was just going to sit here and stare at you as you ate?"
"I didn't think you were going to be here at all," he murmured.
He opened the box, shocked when he saw the contents - long thin noodles in a rich, creamy sauce. He looked up at Christine.
"How did you know?"
"What?" she was confused.
"The fettuccine alfredo - it's my favorite Italian dish. How did you know?"
Her cheeks tinted and she ducked her head.
"Oh. I didn't know. I ordered it because it's my favorite," she twisted the pasta around on her fork, too shy to look at him.
He couldn't help the smile that formed on his lips.
"You know, I used to live in Italy during my younger teen years, and whenever I had the opportunity, this is what I would eat as often as I could."
"Is that so? I must say, I'm quite surprised," she glanced up, eyes twinkling.
"That I lived in Italy?"
"No, that you used to willingly eat food," she teased.
"Well, you know what they say - teenagers make the strangest of choices sometimes, it has something to do with how their minds aren't fully formed yet," he twirled the fork in a small circle. "Luckily, my dear, I eventually grew some sense in my later years."
Her giggle was music to his ears. The familiar term of endearment had slipped out accidentally, but he didn't regret it, not when she was looking at him that way with such joy in her eyes. He felt his heart skip a beat. It seemed so impossible, but she was there with him, mere feet away, fully aware of what was behind the mask - and she was giggling! She was happy, happy sitting there gazing up at such a monster, willingly choosing to be there of her own free will because she wanted to, actually enjoying his company. He almost couldn't take it. It took nearly all his effort to not fall at her feet and weep over her goodness.
"Christine," he asked curiously. "What were you going to do if I had asked to be alone tonight?"
"I was just going to leave, I suppose... That's why I had Antoinette hold my food with her outside... I didn't want to guilt you into letting me stay."
"Guilt me?"
"Well, it would be terribly awkward for you if you saw me standing there with my own dinner in hand, only to slam the door in my face, wouldn't it?"
He huffed a laugh at the image.
"I do suppose you're right."
They continued eating in silence, until Erik simply couldn't hold the question back any longer.
"Why did you come here tonight? You didn't have to, yet you did."
She paused, looking thoughtfully at her plate before raising her eyes to meet his.
"Because I didn't want you to be alone," she said simply.
"And what's so bad about being alone?" he retorted.
She replied promptly, propping her elbow on the table and resting her chin on her hand.
"You tell me what's so bad about it, Erik - you're the one who wanted me stay. You didn't have to, but you did. Why?"
His eyes widened.
because I didn't want to be alone
He cleared his throat and changed the subject.
"Have you ever tried this dish with chicken mixed in? It's quiet good."
"No, I haven't. We'll have to try it that way next time."
The way she mentioned the next time so casually made his heart twist. He swallowed back any reply, knowing that he wouldn't be able to form words without them being drowned in emotion.
His mind recounted in detail every step he had taken after arriving home. If he hadn't paused to check the clock on the wall, or if he hadn't wandered downstairs to look forlornly at the organ, if he had decided on his reckless course of self-destruction just a few moments earlier - he would have been out buying liquor when precious Christine came and knocked on his door. She would have stood there, his favorite meal in hand, staring at the locked door and thinking he was ignoring her. She would have left, feeling embarrassed and silly, and she would have been long gone by the time he had come back. He would have sat there, wallowing in self pity and slowly poisoning himself in an attempt to forget reality while dear little Christine returned to the Girys' with far too much pasta on her hands and far too much hurt in her heart inflicted by him. His head spun just to think of how close this dinner had come to not happening.
If he had blacked out and forgotten this day, forgotten that Christine had seen his face, he wouldn't have known just how miraculous her continued presence around him was. But this - to know that she had seen, and to have her not treat him any differently? He could scarcely fathom it.
He glanced up at her, finding she was already looking at him. She smiled widely, but it wasn't a forced smile. It was the kind that crept across her face almost against her will, made the corners of her eyes crinkle, made her whole countenance radiate joy and some emotion he dare not name.
"You're awfully happy tonight, Christine. What ever for?"
That quirk of her lips that she just couldn't stop. She swallowed her food, hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.
She couldn't tell him, of course. Couldn't tell him that she was happy just to be there with him, laughing and joking just as they had in the times before his unmasking. Couldn't tell him that she was pleased to be sharing dinner with him during a time when he wasn't just doing his job, that she almost, almost could consider this a date of sorts, if he wanted to consider it that too. Couldn't tell him about the sense of peace that came with finally having a word to call the feelings she felt for her strange Angel. Certainly couldn't tell him about how darling she thought he was.
"I am just happy, that's all. I feel like we're so much closer to finding Raoul now - Edwards will surely get those men to crack, and once they do it can't be very much longer until he's back safe and sound."
Ah. Raoul. Of course. He should have known. Of course she was looking forward to the end of this case, to getting her boy back - to not having to be watched every second of every day. To not being around Erik.
Perhaps, he realized, it was unfair to accuse her of wanting to not be around him anymore when she herself had initiated their evening together. But still, it was undeniable that getting Raoul back meant she would barely be around Erik anymore - after all, what use did a girl have for an Angel when she had a husband? Maybe if he was lucky and he played his cards right, he could get an invitation to the wedding.
He was briefly uncomfortable with the thought of what Raoul would think should he find out his Christine had stayed the night with another man. Of course the concept of anything happening was so far removed from the realm of possibility that it reached the point of utter absurdity, but hopefully this Raoul was understanding and not the jealous type.
He felt a wave of guilt over the thought that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't about whether or not anything happened, but about how he felt about her instead. Was it wicked of him to have her here with him when he felt things - not those things, but things all the same - for her? Did it count as cheating if he was in love with her, if this evening felt as intimate to him as a date?
He tried not to think about it. Raoul would never find out, and Christine surely wouldn't see it as anything other than innocent.
But he didn't want to think of Raoul, not tonight, and it seemed Christine didn't either because she didn't mention him again.
"Ah, I can bring an extra pillow and blanket down for you, to make the couch a little more comfortable," he said awkwardly after dinner was finished.
"Do you always go to bed so early?" she asked, surprised - it was hardly late at all.
Erik cleared his throat.
"I was not aware of when most people go to sleep... My own sleep schedule is rather- varied, but I did not wish to keep you up if you were tired..."
"I'm not tired," she smiled. "Not yet anyway. But don't stay up on my account! I know it was a stressful day..."
She ducked her head as she trailed off, suddenly embarrassed at having it brought up again.
"I typically don't sleep well after such action, so I typically just... Don't sleep," he shrugged. "I will stay up as long as you wish."
"Do you have any games, or a deck of cards?" she asked. "I want something to take my mind off those awful men, but I don't feel up to singing."
"Meg keeps all sorts of games around here," Erik began to search for them. "She makes it her personal mission to coerce me into playing some sort of nonsense with her at least once a month..."
She settled herself on the couch as Erik brought over a number of brightly colored little boxes.
"Which nonsense are we going to try tonight?" she giggled.
"Entirely up to you, my dear."
"Oh, don't you want to pick one that you're really good at so you can impress me?" she teased lightly.
Erik considered this as he sat across from her on the couch.
"I'm quite confident in my ability to impress you with any of these games," he shrugged.
She laughed and picked out a card game, which kept them occupied for a handful of hours. They kept up a surprisingly cheerful banter considering what all they had been through that day, and Erik marveled at his sheer luck. This certainly beat long, angsty nights spent at his organ or nervously trying to avoid sleep and the inevitable nightmares, he thought.
Christine's mind was busy that evening. Madame Giry had said she'd likely be turned down, and perhaps it was presumptuous of her to assume otherwise, but she wasn't so certain. Obviously she couldn't be too forward and frighten him away. He was an unconventional man and it would be an unconventional relationship, but perhaps she was a little unconventional herself. She had the feeling that if she could just find the right way to tell him how she felt, the right way to ask him, that he might consider it after all.
But there were very many considerations, of course. He'd probably want to know what she would expect of him, and she had to admit that she needed to figure that out first. But once she knew, she could find a way to present her idea to him and see what he thought of it. He enjoyed her company, didn't he? He had asked her to stay with him, hadn't he? Surely he wasn't averse to spending time with her.
She hoped, at the very least, that her feelings for him wouldn't be off putting to him, and that they could stay friends even if he wasn't comfortable with being more.
There were other considerations as well. When should she tell him? Tomorrow? As soon as she knew what to say? Or should she wait a little? Should she wait until after Raoul was found? It would be terribly awkward if she confessed and laid her heart bare to him, only for him to be repulsed by the very idea and yet still have to guard her practically every day.
Eventually the card game was laid aside in favor of deeper conversation. He told her more of his time in Italy, though he left out the less than happy parts. She talked of her childhood, those shining days when her Papa was still alive and all was right with the world. They spoke of music and the opera, and she told him which roles she'd always dreamed of playing, and he confessed that he'd dreamed of playing in the orchestra and had even tried to audition.
"But I couldn't, you know- they wouldn't even let me try, not unless I-" he gestured to his mask, and she made a sympathetic noise, her brow crinkling. "I refused to let them see, and they refused to let me audition."
He hadn't ever wanted her to know what lay beneath that mask, but now that she did - now that she knew and had returned to him of her own free will - it was freeing to be able to speak of it, of this hidden aspect of himself that impacted so very much of his life in ways no one else could fathom unless they had also lived it. Most wouldn't understand, but Christine tried to - she listened and treated him just the same, and it made him feel seen, and it was a surprise to find that being seen did not have to be a bad thing.
"Christine, look-" he got up off the couch, his joints popping and his legs stiff from sitting all night, and walked over to the window, pulling the blinds open.
She came stood next to him. The sun was rising, turning the sky all shades of blue and making the clouds look pink and yellow and purple.
"It's beautiful," she breathed.
"I don't see it often, but I always try to watch it when I can," he murmured.
They watched together in comfortable silence until it was too bright to look at, and then they set about tidying the office for the day of work ahead of them.
Antoinette arrived a little while later, and she greeted them both but shared a knowing smile with Christine, who ducked her head and blushed, and Erik narrowed his eyes at this, suspicious.
"Can we all get breakfast together?" Christine asked, hopeful. "Work can wait a little while longer, can't it?"
Antoinette raised an eyebrow but smiled.
"I think that can be arranged," she agreed. "But when we get back I want to go over our notes again, Erik - what I've read in the case file versus what Edwards told me versus what you've told me - something isn't lining up, but I can't put my finger on it."
Erik nodded.
They were discussing where they would go for breakfast when the door opened and Nadir entered.
"Ah, someone arrived in time to tag along," Antoinette mused. "Do you like omelettes, Nadir?
"The Daroga would never pass up a chance to eat, especially if someone else is paying," Erik quipped, but Nadir didn't laugh.
All three of them could sense Nadir's seriousness in his demeanor, but none of them expected the words he uttered.
"Erik, you are under arrest for the murder of the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny."