Chapter 27- Silent Nights

As her eyes flickered open he couldn't help but smile. Their chocolate brown soaked up the room, the soft glow from the sun rising outside made them shimmer like gold. He forced his smile back down and stood up. It was the first time she had opened her eyes and looked like she knew what was happening.

When he reached the door he turned around and threw the cloth to her, which she caught, again he suppressed a smile. She was getting better. He had no doubt that she would still be weak, the fever had been hard and last for nearly two weeks but he knew from her reactions that she was on the road to recovery.

'How are you feeling?' he asked, keeping his tone perfectly level. Emitting no emotion. She glanced up at him and forced a soft smile, before tugging the blanket down to her waist.

'I feel…' she began and then stopped to think. How did she feel? 'I feel a little better.'

He nodded and walked away, into the living area where he fell back to the chair and stared at the fireplace. Now what? He thought to himself, feeling his chest tighten. He glanced at the door and his mind raced, it was nearly ten minutes before Christine stepped out and sheepishly smiled at him, pulling her gown around her shoulders and body tight.

He didn't smile back. Instead he heaved himself to his feet, his strong arms pushing him up and sauntered into the kitchen area.

Christine's eyes followed him over the room, she watched how light he was on his feet, she remembered how he could walk in and she wouldn't know he was there until he spoke. He made her jump, that made him smile and in turn it used to make her giggle. She watched him as his strong hands surrounding a jug and poured water into a cup. Her eyes drank his face in as he glanced up to look at her, the mask on the left, so white, so brilliantly white and his eyes that radiant blue.

That beautiful, dazzling blue that made her dreams so vividly real and her nightmares equally so. Deep, dark and full of the emotions she had witnessed in him over the last few months. They exuded a sadness without crying, bellowed an anger with no shouting and occasionally, ever so occasionally, they smiled a happy with out any laughter.

She settled her eyes on his hands again, they seemed safer. They weren't. They held the cup firm but without squeezing it, his long, musician fingers wrapped around it, caressed it… she blinked and looked away, moving over to the window to glance out the front of the house.

More fields.

More trees.

Her heart sank.

'Here,' She jumped, and placed her hand on her heart. He was standing right behind her. He didn't smile. She took the cup from him and sipped the water slowly. 'You should sit.'

Not you should sit down or you might feel better if you sit down. No, you should sit. She gulped the water as she made her way to the chair nearest the fire and slotted herself into the corner. He stared at her, she wasn't sure if she was uncomfortable or sad.

His eyes drifted over her carefully and she looked away. Still it didn't stop the tingling sensation which shot along her spine nor did it stop the hairs from standing up, all over her body. He was still a ghost.

Erik turned his back to her abruptly and gazed long and hard out of the window, she almost stood to see what he was looking so intently at but she knew, deep down, that he was looking out so that he wasn't looking at her. Sadness swept over her again and she forced down another swallow of cool water.

'Erik,' she said, her voice sounded foreign to her. He glanced over his shoulder and nodded. 'I'll leave tomorrow.'

His shoulders remained perfectly still, the breadth of his back blocking the light from the window, she waited for him to say something. To say anything. She waited nearly five minutes and the silence not only petrified her, it amazed her. He could go for hours, days even, without speaking.

'You won't be well enough.' He said simply, without moving.

'I should leave, though,' she said, honestly.

'No,'

'You said..'

'I know what I said,' he turned to look at her. Her eyes fixed onto him, she couldn't move a muscle. 'One, you won't be well enough and two, I could never forgive myself if you were hurt. You'll stay here until I find you somewhere suitable.'

It almost sounded like he cared but her mind couldn't help imagine the silent nights they had ahead.

'Thank you,' were the only two words she could muster as she watched him walked out of the room and up the stairs.