A/N: Thanks for the reviews; I love you guys :)

Chapter Seven

Oh, Christine.

As stealth as you try to be, I can still hear you enter the drawing room, even over the music the piano and I are creating.

You place a small hand on my shoulder, to attract my attention and get me to stop playing, and after ten or so measures, I do so.

"Erik," you say quietly, "you have been playing for quite a long time now."

"That is what I do."

"Yes, I know. . . but I am concerned that you don't eat enough."

"Your point in this being?"

"Erik, you are my husband, and it's my job to take care of you. . . Please, come into the kitchen and eat something. I have cooked a small meal of what little I could find, and I made some tea, as well."

"Thank you kindly, Christine, but I am not hungry."

"You never eat, Erik. I must insist that you do so now."

Your resolve surprises me. "I will eventually."

"No, the food will get cold and spoil. . . besides, I am lonely."

I could laugh at you, but that would be quite rude, and would likely result in hurt feelings. "Oh, so now you would like my company?"

"Yes," you reply, unshaken. "I admit without shame that I would."

I fall silent, rather surprised by how you are standing up to me, and all for my own good, too. "Alright, Christine." Your face lights up. "I will eat. . . after you sing for me."

"Sing what?" you ask suspiciously.

"Oh, dear, do not be so cynical of me. I simply would like to hear your voice; you said you wished to sing again, yourself."

"Yes, but not when there is food on the table. . ."

"Christine."

"Erik."

A silence. "Your strong will surprises me."

You blush slightly. "If I sing, do you promise you'll eat?"

"Yes."

"Alright then. . . Faust."

I play the introduction bars of the song we both have come to know so well, and our voice combine seamlessly together in the duet.

I feel my soul leaving my body, rising upward, climbing higher. . . but this time, it is not alone. No, your perfect, pure soul is there, as well, right beside mine.

Our souls entwine as we reach a crescendo which leads to the climax of the piece, before slowly floating back down to earth together, as the piece comes to a soft closing.

During the course of the song, you have taken your place behind me, a hand on each of my shoulders, your front flush against my back. I can feel the heavy rise and fall of your breast, and your hands giving my shoulders a gentle squeeze, but you do not pull away.

We remain there in silence, absorbing the sheer greatness of the experience we have just shared.

"Thank you, Christine," I finally whisper.