Epilogue

In his dreams, she recovers.

She opens her pretty little eyes and smiles at him with her pretty little teeth. It's the first thing she does, in fact. She smiles, like the beautiful, radiant angel from heaven that she is, and all of the glory and light of her perfect soul shines through that pretty little smile and blesses him in turn. And somehow all the medical equipment around her disappears, fading into crystal nothingness one by one, until it's just her in the bed, with clean new sheets folded across her. It's as if she's just stirred from a short sleep…

He sits in the chair beside her bed and clutches her hand. It's warm, and it squeezes him back.

"You're awake," he breathes with relief.

"I'm awake," she agrees, and that cements the dream. "I'm so glad that you're here."

"Where else would I go?"

"Anywhere but here." She pats his hand. "I know it's hard for you."

"Only when you're gone. It's not too hard when you're here."

"You know that's not what I meant."

He's confused by her words.

"Hospitals," she clarifies. "They remind you of her, don't they?"

Now he understands, and the memories resurface in full blast – but the difference is they've lost their sharp edge now. He can see her face clearly in the knife, dulled to the point where he no longer needs to fear for his safety. He can look upon her without hiding his glance, and she in turn stares back at him. A slight frown sits upon her face – more of a smile than any other expression he'd ever seen her wear.

"Erik doesn't want to talk about his mother," Erik says, biting back tears. "Especially not in his beautiful dreams with Christine."

Christine leans forward and hugs him. "It's okay, Erik."

"She blamed Erik for everything…"

Christine pulls him closer.

"And never… she never…" Erik sobs on her shoulder. It's uncomfortable with the mask in the way. "Erik asked her for a single kiss and she didn't… she wouldn't…!"

He bawls his eyes into the soft fabric of her dot-patterned hospital gown, and Christine holds him until he's ready to let go.

Finally he pulls away and wipes his red eyes – before looking up at Christine and seeing her angelic face. His lower lip trembles, and his eyes shine with a fresh wave of tears.

"Christine," he asks – pleads – desperately, "if he asked nicely – if he bought you flowers – if he sang for you – please, Christine, would you – will you - give Erik a kiss?"

He always wakes before she can answer.

FIN