Christine woke to the smell of burnt toast and a clatter of pots and pans. Erik was already up fixing breakfast, or at least trying to. He was kneeling down, one hand firm on the no-stick pan he wanted to use for cooking, and a mess of several pots around him when Christine left the bedroom. He turned at the sound of Ayesha greeting Christine, catching her mid-tip-toe.

"I'm sorry," he apologized swiftly, keeping knelt on the floor, entirely too embarrassed to stand. "I was hoping not to disturb you."

Christine laughed forgivingly and relaxed her posture. "It's fine." She shot a disapproving glance in Ayesha's direction, watching the cat trot off to her water bowl across the room.

Erik turned back to regard the mess he'd made, setting the pan he wanted on the stove top before stacking all the pots and pans back into their original order in his cabinet. The toaster finally popped up as he did, blackened toast peeking out at the top. Christine had moved closer to get a better look at the work he was doing and smiled at the sight. Erik groaned, plucking the burnt slices from the toaster and tossing them immediately into a nearby trash can.

"That's the second time," he grumbled. "I guess I need a new toaster."

"Or maybe you should make sure your toaster isn't on its highest setting," Christine laughed, eyeing the dial which had been turned far right.

Erik's lips pressed into a firm line and his hands fled to his eyes in a muffled smack. He sighed heavily, unable to suppress the embarrassed warmth that was rushing to his face. "I'm so sorry," he apologized once more. "I'm not good at this."

Christine laughed gently this time. "It's fine, Erik. I appreciate the effort. Why don't you let me take over? Mamma says I make a mean pancake."

Erik's hands slid down over the cheeks of his mask. He glanced back at her over his shoulder. "How can you be so perfect?" His question was practically breathless.

Christine felt a ball of warmth expand in her stomach. She wanted to laugh against his statement, but she found that she could not. An argument of words jumbled in her mind and fell away all in awe that he could ever come to such a conclusion about her.

Erik took to the couch, picking up on the documentary that was playing on the channel he'd last had his television turned to while Christine happily worked around the stove, fixing an entire stack of pancakes and a few strips of bacon from the pack he'd left out on the counter to cook.

The tune of Erik's phone when off from his coat pocket. He muttered something beneath his breath and stood, crossing the room to his coat rack to retrieve his phone. He stared at the screen a moment, trying to identify the odd number.

"Who is it?" Christine asked, noticing his perplexed frown.

"Not sure." Still, he answered and brought the phone up to his ear. "Hello?"

Christine flipped her pancake and stole a quick glance at Erik. He was oddly silent, his face entirely expressionless. But she noticed a tenseness building within him, around his shoulders like a strange aura.

"Okay," he said. "Thank you." His eyes shot up to Christine as soon as he hung up. Before she could ask anything, the words were already on his lips. "I need to go to the hospital."

"Erik, slow down."

His foot was heavy on the gas, hands clasped tightly around the steering wheel, eyes glued to the road. He had to get there quick. Before…

"Erik!"

He blinked back to life and glanced at his speedometer. Ten over the speed limit. He hit the brakes lightly, bringing it back down.

"We're trying to visit, not get admitted, right?" She hated the way she sounded when she asked it as if she didn't consider his emotions at the moment, but she completely understood.

Christine struggled to keep up with him at the hospital, his legs taking long, fast strides down the hall. His eyes searched frantically from door to door, counting down the numbers until finally, he reached his dad's room.

A nurse stood at a large whiteboard on the wall filling out a few empty boxes of information. She looked up after signing off with the date, blinking once at the masked man before her. "Are you his son?"

"Yes," he replied, imitating her slight whisper.

She smiled and capped her marker. "We're going to take him for a scan in a bit. He's having trouble speaking right now, but he seems to be somewhat alert."

Erik nodded, grateful for her information, and walked to his dad's side. He was already plugged up, his arms already victims to so many pokes and prods. He wouldn't be happy when he actually came to, Erik thought with a smile of amusement. He carefully took his father's hand and held it between each of his, watching as he slowly opened his eyes. They gazed at one another for the moment, neither of them speaking until his father closed his eyes once more, squeezing his son's hand in recognition.

Christine and Erik left for the cafeteria as he was taken away for his scan, picking up on the final few minutes of breakfast.

"I'm sorry I made us run out so soon," Erik apologized. When he was drifting off to sleep the night before, he had imagined surprising her with an entire homemade breakfast layout. Pancakes and toast and eggs and bacon. The hospital had it all, but nothing with love. Just bland, frozen foods.

Christine laughed. "It's fine, Erik. You need to make sure you're here for your father. I completely understand."

He couldn't look at her. There were way too many things running through his mind all at once for him to be able to pick up his eyes or even his fork. He wasn't hungry anymore. Even if he did make the effort to bring something to his mouth and chew it, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to swallow.

Christine placed her hand over the one he had settled beside his plate, drawing him from his trainwreck of thoughts to her touch. She slipped her fingers beneath his, carefully holding onto his ring and pinky. He gave everything away to those blue eyes once again.

"I love you, Erik."

They sat there in their own silence, the clinking and chatter of the world around them ceasing to exist. Christine retracted her hand, thinking maybe it was all too soon for him to hear; feeling as if it were all too soon to say herself. But Erik didn't let her go. As her hand began slipping away, his shot forward, pulling her hand back by his plate.

He didn't know what to say to her. As ridiculous at it was, knowing she already had his heart, he was afraid to say it back. He'd said 'I love you' to so many things before, all of which had been stripped away from him in the end. Even now, a few stories above him, the man he'd made a recent decision to finally say it to was almost ripped from his life. He didn't want to risk losing her.

Instead, he kissed her hand, sighing shakily over her the ridge of her knuckle as he did so; not speaking for the rest of their meal and praying that whatever words came after would be just as pleasing and relieving as hers.