Thank you all for being there, and happy reading!

*-* Erik XII - The Vampire Thing

He thought he wouldn't dare, but well. Today was a great day, coming along very nicely. Why wouldn't he take advantage of his luck?

"Dracula?" She asked him in disbelief.

"Well, it's a nice story, is it not?"

Oh no, she didn't seem convinced, and perhaps he'd chosen completely wrong.

"I wouldn't say nice… It is a happy ending for Mina and Jonathan, sure, but… I liked Dracula, as a character. When I was younger, I read a book on Mina's point of view. It… It was a love story."

Not convinced, but… What was that new behavior? She looked embarrassed, in the cutest way. And it interested him greatly. A love story, between a mortal girl and a vampire?

"Would you tell me more?"

"They loved each other, but the ending stayed the same. As I said, it kept the plot and all the letters of the original novel, but in the perspective of them being in love."

"And the ending, then?"

Even stranger, she refused to look at him in the eyes, twisting the hem of her shirt.

"It was disappointing, honestly. I mean, it makes sense for her to remain with Jonathan, her fiancé, but… I don't know. There is something sweet in knowing the one you love will never die. Will never leave you, and always love you."

He would have come down on his knees and kissed her feet, and wanted to shake the sadness of her tone.

For someone who'd been left alone, it made perfect sense. Well. That was a great prelude to tell her of what he was. No.

Not yet.

Better to wait, while knowing it would perhaps be easier than he believed to tell her the truth.

And so, he opened the book, at the beginning, and started reading.

She was losing herself in his voice, in the words he spoke, his tone fitting the story perfectly. He knew it well, it seemed, never hesitating, never faltering, the words a river, gentle and delicate and soothing.

It took her mind off her thoughts, for a while.

She'd curled up on the sofa, arms around her legs and chin resting on her knees. It was so pleasantly warm, and he was so close, sitting down next to her.

She'd missed this. Enjoying time with someone else, no expectations, no anxiety or social fears.

He read several chapters, looking up every few paragraphs to look at her, observe her.

It was a novel he knew well, of course, had been around when it was written, and had gotten a first edition, in the original English. She was decent in that language, but he'd chosen a fairly good French translation, to help ease her mind. He was no linguist, but time and his own genius mind picked up on new languages easily, and he'd had on his shelves a dual English/French version of the book. Not all of his collection was in the two, but in time, if this relationship between them went on, he would have either to help her improve so that she didn't need a translation, or to buy more in their native tongue.

All along, he thought his distraction was working. Her heart was beating more slowly, and she had relaxed, her scent as enticing as the night sky, wide and open and full of stars, fresh and clear.

Full of possibilities.

After the end of the fifth chapter, he stopped.

He wanted her to stay with him, but they had to keep up appearances of normality, didn't they?

"Thank you for everything, Erik. It was… Very pleasant."

"Indeed. It was my pleasure."

There was a delicious light in her eyes, something warm and gentle in the corner of her smile.

She got up, and went to hug him again.

This time, he'd anticipated it, and drew his arms around her small, curvy body. Would he ever get used to this perfection of a woman, willingly throwing herself into his arms? Why did it feel so easy, these days? As if all those silent, cold and dark years had been finally forgotten, a nightmare he could put to rest in the light of day and waking up?

What time was it, after all? With her there, he forgot about everything, including what used to be the only thing reminding him of the passing of time: his thirst.

With her there, even that old cursed friend was no more binding than the rays of the sun. He could endure the burning to see her off on his porch, could forget about the tightening of his throat urging him to feed and to drink.

The candles would nearly burn off, if he didn't change them. Was it time already to collect the new ones from his old keeper?

"I will be returning tomorrow, for our lesson."

And some more things.

She didn't say, but it was plain to them both.

He accompanied her on the porch, and she reached out to him, rising on her tiptoes, one last time today, to gently kiss his lips. It was the softest touch, but it made him weak in the knees. He could live off on that single touch for the rest of eternity, if it came to that. Just knowing she'd cared, even briefly, for him, would fuel his heart for the rest of his days on this Earth.

She stroke his cheek, one last time, as delicately as a cloud of mist, and he turned his head to kiss her fingers.

She smiled.

"See you tomorrow, Erik."

"Drive home safe, my dearest."

My love. He didn't say, but he wanted to.

He watched her leave, and returned to his home. Her scent was still lingering, most of all in the room where so much had happened. Could he believe it? It felt too good to be true.

Now that she was gone, he truly felt the weight of the events of the day.

Most of all, he felt the absence of the mask.

He'd gone outdoor without it, and nothing had happened. Of course, the sun had burnt him, but he scarcely felt the pain.

Would he dare? Going up, to her bathroom and the only mirror he'd dared set up in the house?

To see himself, as she saw him?

He needed to heal himself. His hands were better now than when he'd burnt them days ago, but his uncovered face had taken part of the damage. She hadn't seen, of course. Enduring that pain was second nature to him. Or was it even the first condition, and the absence of pain a relief he barely knew?

She had struggled, to see him and not flee. He'd sensed it. Seen it in her eyes, in the sudden curve of her mouth, the tight opening of her lips, ready to scream.

But she hadn't.

He still couldn't believe she'd touched him.

In that way, she was stronger than his old Christine. But the times were different, too. Exposed to a steady flow of horrors and sad stories, she was not so easily spooked and repulsed. Still, no matter what, it was a testament of her gentle heart, to give him that chance. To want him.

There was no vampire trick, he was sure of that, now.

Not even his power would be strong enough to overcome her fear and hate, if she felt those things.

And when he told her, when she knew, his powers would be nullified completely, and he would know, as unshakable truth, if she really felt something real for him.

He dreaded that conversation.

But he couldn't live lost in the times forever.

He had to anchor himself, and make something of his talents. He'd done it, cooking for her, making her a nice bedroom, fueling her own singing gift with his own, composing lullabies and symphonies for her. Just for her.

She'd sung of her father, as though song writing was in her veins, the very fabric of her DNA. If she wanted, she would be a great composer, too, if only she dared to sit down and listen to her heart.

To keep those doors to her deep self open and free. He just knew that she was capable of those feats.

Now she only needed to take that first step.

He would be thrilled to discover who she would become, when she spread her wings. She would fly, soar and reach for the sun. An eternal star on the firmament. Part of the tapestry of all the greats before her.

And if he could, he would help her become immortal in a different, more corporeal kind of way.

But that started with healing himself, and telling her.

Tomorrow.

No need to postpone something when the strangest hope was blossoming inside, giving him the intuition that perhaps, just perhaps, he was becoming an optimist. A dreamer.

If only his old Christine could see him, see the man he would become, thanks to her.

He would never forget her. Forget her love, forget she'd made him much of who he was today. She was part of his bones, now, still in the blood running through his veins. Imprinted on his heart, as dead and unbeating as the flesh was.

It didn't hurt.

No longer.

Just the faintest tug, the reminder of her hold over him. He would need to go back to her grave, put flowers on her resting place, and speak to her. Thank her.

And soon, too, he would need to mention her to his new lover.

Lover.

How wonderful it was, to be able to even just think those words, and know they were true, and not only conceptions in his mind, not deviant products of a jealous heart.

She'd kissed him twice.

He wanted to cry and to laugh at the same time, and he did, curling on the floor of the bathroom, a delirious kind of laughter shaking his tall frame. He could no longer cry, and the twisting of his features didn't help putting the cream on, but he did both, unable to stop. A madman, he was, for once deserving that statement, but he was in love.

In Love.

In Love!

He wanted to sing it out to the heavens, let it reach the farthest corners of the galaxy.

And he did, too, letting the power of his voice echo all around the hills. Feeling the earth shake from that strength, every plant grow a little bit more, curl towards the origin of the sound.

His song was a joyous one, of life and new beginning.

He was a vampire, but tonight, he might as well have been an angel.

A true Angel of Music.

She didn't notice she was smiling until after she came home, in the early afternoon light.

Such a bright smile, the kind that whispered of wicked delights, stolen kisses and a smitten heart.

She was so smitten with him. His face didn't matter. How could it, when the man it belonged to spoke to her entire soul the way no other ever had before. The more time they spent together, the more aware she was of that connection, how effortlessly everything flowed between them. It almost reminded of the great love spoken of in stories, the one she had always hoped for. It seemed there, in her reach.

She took care of everything that needed to be done in her house after so many days not really there. Cleaning, laundering. Changing back into her old clothes, feeling like she was Cinderella returning home after the ball. Back to reality, but knowing something wonderful, beyond any words had truly happened.

He was a delight. Such a tender, awkward man, and in time, when he took care of his own heart, and past trauma, he would have no equal in her eyes.

She couldn't wait to go back to him. But first things first. She had a few Internet searches to make. Knowing what the Garnier and the Bastille had on in the fall. She would relish any ensemble or chorus part, for now. She knew, with his guidance, she would soon be ready for the title roles, but she had plenty of time. Experience would be the goal of this coming year, as well as building her stamina.

She wrote down the dates of the auditions, prepared her application. The recordings would have to be made with him, as would the pictures. He would be most helpful with these.

The sun was setting, and she felt tired. But not in a bad way. Just the way it felt after the day that changed your life. Or so it seemed, in her heart.

It truly was a new beginning.

She treated herself to a nice meal, missing the way he would cook so easily for her, but knew it would perhaps happen again tomorrow. She went to bed early, excited for the next day.

She woke up feeling calm and soothed. The birds were chirping softly in the field next to her window, and the sun was rising, gold and pink. She felt warm and peaceful, as if her heart had settled, was not empty with ache, or too full with desire and want. At rest.

It was truly a most wondrous feeling.

She couldn't remember any dreams that she'd had, but as she beheld her room, and the soft Erik teddy bear next to her pillow, she brought it to her heart, held it close to her chest.

"You were perhaps a clue to what was to come," she whispered to his misshapen ear. "Not as you used to be, perhaps a little scarred, but the same one who comforted me when I needed it. He's very much like you, and has your name. And I'm frightened, too, how dear he's become to me."

Saying it out loud was strange, but it gave her this grounded feeling, as if no more just feelings within her, but truths out there in the world. Real because she spoke them. As concrete as any other tangible thing.

It was liberating.

She got up, and opened the window. She settled in front of the opening, watched the field and the sun and the vines, all around her. She could hear the whispers of the wind, too. Feel it on her skin, as tender as caresses, as she cradled her plushy to her neck, kissing the soft fabric, her nose filled with its sweet scent.

Had he touched her, for real? His arms had been around her, but still she hadn't felt more than his hands on hers. His fingers around hers.

Today, she promised herself she would discover more of him.