"Claire!" Erik called from the top of the stairs.

Claire set down the basket of clothes and looked up.

"Come," he said softly, extending his hand. "I have a new song for you to learn."

"Now?"

Erik nodded, his blue eyes glittering with excitement.

"But-but the laundry's wet, and it needs to be hung up," Claire called up tentatively. He had been in such a good mood for the last few days, and she didn't want to ruin it.

"Rachel can do it," he replied casually. "Rachel!" he called, letting his voice drift across the house.

After a few moments Rachel emerged from the kitchen, brushing flour off her skirt.

"Go take the laundry outside and hang it up."

Rachel gave Erik a small curtsy and, as she picked up the basket, she gave Claire a dirty look and promptly stomped out of the room. As soon as she disappeared around the corner, Claire headed up the stairs towards Erik. When she reached the top, he carefully took hold of her hand and led her into the piano room.

"Here," he said, placing a sheet of music in front of her.

"Can you play it for me once, so that I can hear what it's supposed to sound like?" she asked with a laugh.

Erik nodded ever so slightly and Claire slid down to the edge of the piano bench to give him room. Placing his hands gently over the keys, he began to play. Claire closed her eyes and let the sounds wash over her. The song was beautiful; it was calm and filled with hope. She was swaying slightly, and her arm brushed against Erik's as his hand moved up the keys. Opening her eyes, she turned her head and gazed at him. She loved to watch him play. The look on his face was one of such love, such longing that she was always filled with the urge to embrace him and to have him hold her in his arms in return. Closing her eyes again, she slowly rested her head on his shoulder. Erik gave a start and misplayed a note. Claire smiled and listened as he regained his composure. She could feel the muscles in his shoulder moving gracefully as he coaxed the music from the instrument. When the song ended, Claire opened her eyes and looked down at his hands. They were trembling slightly and the muscles in his shoulder were tense.

"It was beautiful." She raised her head. "Everything you write is."

"Thank you," he whispered.

"What's it called?"

Erik's head shot up. Claire watched as he swallowed, and she knew he was thinking of a name.

"Light," he said at last.

"Light," Claire repeated. "I like it."

Their gazes met and locked. Erik could not pull away. He had never been this close to a woman for so long, especially not such a beautiful one. She had rested her head on his shoulder and not shuddered. She had touched him, kissed him. Perhaps soon, he thought, it will be time to do something for her in return.

Finally breaking the gaze, Erik turned back to the piano and shifted down the bench.

"Now it is your turn to learn to play it."

"All right," Claire agreed with a smile.

She liked happy Erik. She really liked him.

"Like that?" Claire asked, finishing up the second page.

"Almost."

"Erik?"

"Yes?" he replied, nervously awaiting her question.

Claire fidgeted with the edge of her dress.

Erik took a deep breath; it was a big question.

"Can I see beneath your mask?" she asked, looking him straight in the eyes.

Erik's hand instantly flew to his mask and he backed up defensively. He knew that this day would come.

"No," he snapped.

Claire sat there studying him for a moment before deciding to reply. She could see the panicked fear in his eyes.

"All right," she replied with a shrug. Erik blinked at her in amazement. "When you're ready."

Erik remained frozen on the spot, the look of disbelief etched on his face. Slowly, Claire reached up and laid her hand over the hand that covered the mask.

"It's all right," she whispered, inching closer. "I'm not going to pull it off."

Wrapping her small fingers around his large hand she carefully pulled it away from the mask and laid his hand down in his lap. Giving his hand a small squeeze, she smiled and let out a soft laugh.

"Erik, it's all right." She giggled. "You know, if you keep your face that way, the wind will come and it will freeze like that."

Erik frowned, obviously confused by her comment.

"What? Didn't anyone ever tell you that?" she asked earnestly.

Erik shook his head.

"Oh, well." She shrugged again. "It doesn't matter, it's not true anyway. This one time my friend Becca and I tried to stay like this—" Claire pulled the corner of her eyes up—"for hours to see if we could look like this girl Ling that we knew…but it didn't work and our parents got mad at us because they thought that we were making fun of her. Even though we weren't," Claire added defiantly, her eyes shinning.

Erik let his body relax and allowed himself a small smile as he watched her tell her story. When she finished, he let out a small melodious laugh. He treasured seeing these rare glimpses of her youth, of her life before she had met him. Claire never talked about her past; parts of it seemed to deeply frighten her and so she avoided it whenever possible. At times she could seem so old and tired, but at others, at times like these, Erik was reminded of just how young she was, how full of life.

"Claire?" he asked.

"Yes?" she replied playfully.

"How old are you?"

Claire smiled at him.

"Tell the truth," he added sternly.

"19," she said.

Suddenly his mind began to wander back to Christine. How old would she be now?

NO! he thought, shutting thoughts of her out of his mind. He didn't want his memory of her to ruin this moment.

"Let's keep playing," he said, turning back to the piano and flipping the page.

A/N: There you go guys...a longer chapter…hahaha. Enjoy. I know not much happened in this one…but don't worry…there will be LOTS of action in the next one!