A/N: Okay, I might have lied . . . we'll see. This is labeled as fluff, but thinking up horrible things for my other story is proving kind of fun, so there might actually be some vaguely plotlike events happening later in the story. Otherwise, just enjoy nice EC fluffiness. Hmm (looking at writing). My Christine has suddenly grown quite talkative. Interesting.

phantomlovin4ever: Thanks!

nala456: Updating ASAP!

Erik

"That could be arranged," I muttered dryly, my mind still absorbing her words. I could only wonder at the emotion in her voice, her face; only marvel at her loyalty to a man she believed she might never meet again. My heart ached for her, for us; I knew we had reached them now, the painful subjects neither of us had wanted to discuss: my belief that I was a fallen angel, her heart's choice to be true to me, and—most painful—that last night I had forced her to make a decision she had been too much of a child to bear . . .

Knowing that I was asking for more pain, I steeled my battered heart and decided to get everything into the open, once and for all. "If you loved me, why did you leave?"

"If you loved me, why did you ask me to?" Christine replied softly. She silenced my retort with her tiny hand and continued. "No—let me talk." Snuggling up close to me, she lay her head on my shoulder, mostly, I suspected, so she wouldn't have to look at me while she spoke. "I know I'm horrible at lying, especially to you, but I seem to have a remarkable talent for self-deception. I was jealous of a cat, I wanted to spend every moment with you I could, but I still refused to let myself see that I loved you.

"A year is an eternity in the life of a child, Erik. It can mean the difference between infancy and maturity, between fear and love, between pain and passion, between someone who knows herself well enough to make a choice and someone who is only terrified of losing both the men she cared for. I had felt nothing since father died, and then suddenly you were there, stirring emotions in my heart that had little to do with a daughter's love or the worship of an angel. I couldn't handle them; I could hardly stand to feel them. Raoul was safe and easy and gentle; what I felt for him was what I had always felt for him through childhood, and so it was simple for me to accept it.

"But your love—that all-consuming fire I could glimpse in your eyes, even though I did not let myself realize what it was—your love terrified me." Here I shrank away from her, but her grip was surprisingly firm. "Not terrified of you, idiot," Christine whispered. "Terrified of what you made me feel. Scared out of my mind of loving someone again, of letting another man become the center of my life like Papa had been. But you gave me no choice; I couldn't not love you. I could not even bear your silence, much less your absence."

I sighed, many of her actions—previously inexplicable to my mind—were beginning to fall into place. "But then instead of letting you grow up a bit, I forced you to choose. All I could see was you leaving me."

"I might never have been able to 'grow up a bit' if you hadn't," Christine answered quietly. "But you still haven't answered my question."

"I couldn't force you to stay down there with me; not because of him," I explained. "When we kissed—" I found myself having to swallow hard, remember those other kisses we had shared just last night. "When we kissed, I realized that I could not keep you with me against your will. Even though you chose me, I knew I would never be certain whether or not you only did so because of your own noble heart, giving your life for the life of the man you loved. And now . . .now I find that I cannot let that same noble heart sacrifice itself for me."

I was being melancholy and impossible and I knew it, but this was how I felt. How could I possibly ask her to share her life with me? Me, the monster, the demon, the fallen angel who seduced her with his voice—I did not deserve her. That, I was certain of to the core of my soul.

Really, I ought to learn to see that slap coming. She's getting rather good. Is this the result of a year apart, being forced to 'grow up a little'—that my beloved girl has finally grown a bit of a spine?

That could make life interesting.

I think she was surprised when I grinned at her—she had just hit me, again, after all—but she recovered quickly enough as I leaned in to kiss her. Christine firmly covered my mouth with her hand and, in the sternest voice she could muster, told me "None of that. I will not kiss a man who says he loves me but refuses to marry me." The hint of a smile on her lips spoiled the effect, but on the whole it was a good effort.

"All right," I answered, my lips tickling her palm. "New plan. My concern is that you don't know me as well as I think you should—and don't start talking about the year you lived in my home, either. That, for all intents and purposes, was a case of an apprentice living with a master. You have another month's worth of contracts in Venice, yes?"

Christine's eyes were wary as she answered in the affirmative. I knew she was wondering where, exactly, I was going with this. I was surprised myself.

"Live with me," I said simply. "For one month, live in my home as a woman, as a friend, and as a love rather than as a student. If, at the end of that month, you still wish to bind yourself to me, then," my voice softened, "it would be the greatest pleasure of my life to marry you. If not, you will go free. And I promise," I added as she blushed, "that you will never be . . . inappropriately handled in any way."

Her cheeks were still a bright pink, but the look Christine gave me was suspicious. "And you won't . . . I don't know, you won't try to deceive me? You won't try to make me believe at the end that you don't love me because you're trying to release me, or any other nonsense?"

Curse her. Maybe she knew me better than I was giving her credit for.

"Erik?"

I sighed. "You have my word—I will not deceive you."

"Good," a bright voice said from behind us. "Who wants breakfast?"

Someday, that boy was going to find himself in serious trouble.