Chapter 4

'Here, sit down and take off your jacket. At least unbutton your shirt,' Christine instructed. I did so love her commanding teacher voice. After years of my tutelage, I could hear a bit of myself in her tone. It was still more genuinely Christine, though. Her request, however, sent blood to my face with the intent of making me blush.

'Christine, I have had worse injuries than this in harder to reach places. I am certain I can take care of it myself. You need not trouble yourself.'

She gave me a look that closed my confident mouth. 'And I have been dressing this wound for almost a week while you nearly died of fever. I think I know what I'm doing by now.'

I could not argue her, desire it though I might. She was right despite how it made me cringe. I did not want to think of how much trouble I had been to her. I knew from past experience what it was like to take care of someone who was dying or nearly so. Looking after the Daroga's son the little I had gave me a new appreciation for the nurses who did it day in and day out. Humiliation silenced me as I thought of all Christine must have endured. I did not wish to think on the details of the messes she had to clean up due to my inability to be a functioning human.

I sat, blocking the images from my mind until she returned. I had not fully tracked her movements through the house, but I did note that the bathroom seemed to be the door next to the kitchen. There was another tucked up into a small hall beside it, but I was distracted by her pulling my jacket off my shoulders. She muttered under her breath in what I assumed to be Swedish as she did this.

'I take it this is your room,' I asked, pointing over my shoulder from the piano bench. She nodded, humming the affirmative as she unbuttoned my shirt. 'What's that room?' I pointed now to the room next to my own.

She grinned now. 'It's a surprise. I'll show you when we're done.'

I waited patiently as she took my shirt off, revealing my still emaciated form. I had never thought about my body's appearance until Christine came into my life. My face had always been at the forefront of my mind, but now that we found ourselves in this position I wondered if my physique or lack thereof bothered her. The Vicomte had not been an Adonis, either, but at least he had more to him than skin and bone. The Daroga had always been surprised when I would show my strength because as he so eloquently put it I looked like I could not manage to lift a wet cloth. I had carried Christine on a few occasions without issue, but I felt confident she could do the same for me if she tried. My muscles were of the leaner kind and always had been.

A poke at my side of the bandages being removed brought my mind back to the present moment. I found it was easier to get lost in my thoughts than to fully acknowledge what was going on. She had me lift my arms up, cringing at my poorly disguised wince of pain for doing so.

'I'm sorry,' she muttered, working a little quicker so I would not have to continue to stretch the skin on my side.

'I have been through worse, I assure you,' I told her, but all I got was a grimace of pity. She did not like it when I calmly mentioned being hurt. I had not done so often, wishing to keep my past as far away from her prying mind as possible, but each time something had come up about my being tortured it brought her pain. I would do anything to keep her from feeling badly for me.

I peeked down to see what the damage was to my side and was surprised to see that the graze was healing much faster than I would have guessed. Given that I had been prepared to let it become infected and kill me, I had been expecting it to be much worse.

Apparently I said some of this out loud—a bad habit of mine after too many years alone—, for she replied with her brow furrowed, 'You mustn't say things like that.'

Looking at her in surprise, I asked why not.

She gazed at me full on as though that was the most ridiculous question she had ever heard. 'Because it is a sin to take your own life.'

I scoffed. 'My dear, you know well enough that I am not the kind to allow religion to rule my actions. Besides, what did I have to live for?'

The pain in her eyes at that moment made me regret my words. Hurt and shame and guilt were things I had no wish to see in her. She did not deserve to have those feelings. I had no right to put those weights on her delicate shoulders.

'I am sorry, Christine.' I did not avert my eyes, but my voice was soft. I had never truly apologised for any of the Hell I had put her through and I hoped my sincerity in that moment could make up for at least part of it.

She took in a tense breath but continued on with her work. Her fingers were very gentle and I was surprised to find that she did not tie the bandage too loosely because of this. She was not treating me as though I would break but she was keeping contact to a minimum, for which I was grateful. As little as I was used to of touch, what she was giving me was making my heart want to do backflips. Each graze of her fingers against my skin was producing goose flesh and causing my breath to hitch. I tried to hide this as much as possible because I knew it would only lead to awkwardness.

'There,' she said triumphantly when the new bandage was in place. She smiled at the white gauze that showed off my deathly paleness even more and I wondered what about that could bring her joy. She finally met my eyes and the smile remained, taking my breath away. 'Now, shall we see what your surprise is?'

I could tell from the giddy kind of excitement she was just barely concealing that she desperately wanted to show me. Though my curiosity was burning, I consented mostly to appease her. To my utter shock and delight, she took my hand only moments after I had finished buttoning up my shirt. I had yet to tuck it in or even think of putting on my jacket before she was pulling me off to the other end of the house.

Glancing back at the piano somewhat longingly, I told myself I would have plenty of time to stretch my fingers along the ivory keys later.

Leading me past the bathroom, we ducked into a little corner to face a darker wooded door. Unlike the rest of the house that consisted mostly of pastels and white trim, this door was mahogany and styled more heavily like the ones in my home under the Opera. It made me wonder for half a second if it was from my home, but the ridiculousness of that idea quickly made me shake the thought away.

Christine grinned back at me and moved over so that I was the one who would open the door.

'Do you want me to close my eyes?' I asked playfully, despite the nervous tremor that shook my voice.

She shrugged and then picked her smiled back up. This did little to reassure me, though I could not tell exactly why I was so nervous at all. Something about the fact that the door was more hidden and different from the rest of the house made me feel there was something very significant about the room I was about to enter. Some part of me feared it would lead back to my home and all of this would have turned out to be a complete fantasy. Perhaps I built this false world in some mad haze and did not remember it until I stumbled upon it.

Somewhat unconsciously, my hand found hers again. I surprised both of us by this bold move, but I could not shake the feeling that once I opened the door she would disappear or change somehow. I ignored the sight of her raised eyebrows in my peripheral as I grasped the golden doorknob. It opened easily and I took a breath in as it did so.

Much like my home, there were no windows. There were only walls of books. The two side walls had floor to ceiling bookcases. The far wall had a short desk, much like the one in my bedroom, and the wall closest to the door had a red plush sofa with a lamp beside it. What drew my attention away from the red walls with gold accenting, was the sleek, black piano situated near the centre of the room. I also noted that there was a violin resting on the lid of the piano, but the fact that we had two of the instrument surprised me.

I looked back to Christine and could feel my eyes welling. Her own were blinking back the same emotion. 'Do you like it?'

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, making her giggle.

'I had it furnished just for you.'

'H-How?' I managed out at last.

She blushed then, looking modest and perfect as she directed her gaze to the floor. She had completely baffled me and I knew how much she had longed to do that. I can be very good at figuring out number and realistic problems, but this was beyond me.

'When Mama Valerius died, she did not have much, but she left me this house. It was the one Papa and I had stayed in when we came here when I was little. I had always loved it and Mama knew that so she had the deed transferred to me. I had a bit of savings from the Opera to fix up this room. The books I got from an estate sale not too long ago. I hope you like them. I know yours were more varied, but not much survived after…'

I let her trail off, turning my wondering eyes back to the room she had made for me. No one had ever given me anything before, let alone designed a whole room in a house for me. This home was special to her and I felt something shift in my stomach to realise that she had changed it to suit me. She was not lying when she had said she wanted to share memories of this place with me. Putting two and two together, I rounded on her with a form of fearful excitement.

'Does that mean I am to stay here?!' Truly, I had not meant to shout it, but my desperation was to the point where I could no longer control it. I had to know for certain or I would never be able to rest easily ever again.

Her smiled of startled confusion slowly wore off as her brows continued to knit. 'Well, yes. If you would like to, that is.'

I could have fainted dead away right there. I stumbled some until I was able to collapse on the sofa. I put my head in my hands, groaning as the world continued to spin. My thoughts were spinning around with it. Christine was giving me a home by the sea that she loved. She had thought of me kindly and helped me to live. She was giving me a reason to live. She was giving me a place to continue my life.

From above me, I felt her hand touch my rounded back as I continued to moan, overwhelmed as I was by the onslaught of emotions. 'Erik?' Her voice was just as it had been the previous night. It was calmly coaxing yet still tinged with worry. 'Erik, are you all right?'

I could not respond. I could not manage to get my mouth to do anything or my mind to form human words she would understand. Too many words of thanks, of begging for her understand how indebted I was to her, of self-degradation and how I did not deserve her generosity warred within me.

Christine sunk down to my level, taking her hands and placing them over my own as she sought out my gaze. I could not meet her compassionate nature now. She was too angelic and sweet for me to handle right now. It was as though I would be burned by the holy light she held inside her. I was a sin, a blight upon her life and yet she showed me kindness.

'Erik, please don't cry. I don't want you to be sad. I am sorry. I should have known this would be too much at once, but I was excited to share it with you.'

Her fingers ran through my hair and that contact was so personal that it brought me back. I snapped my eyes up to hers instantly.

'You think I am saddened?' I asked in disbelief. She seemed confused by my question, though given I had been crying without realising I had to admit she had a right to be. I laughed at her expression of bafflement. 'You have given me more than I could ever hope to return—ever hope to deserve and you think I am saddened by this? Christine, you made me a room—no—you gave me a place in your life. How else could I react? All I have ever wanted was a place in your life and here you are giving it to me as though it was nothing more than a pat on the back! Christine, I am overwhelmed, overjoyed, and simply beyond words to thank you for everything you have done!'

Through this she did start crying, but as soon as I moved to ask her if it was because of pain or sorrow, she hugged me again. I had more embraces in two days than I had my whole life. It was harder this time as I was on the sofa and she kneeling on the floor, our height difference being even more extreme, but I would not have given it up for the world.

She clung to me as I had to her earlier and I wondered how many more times we would go through this desperate clutching before we were certain the other would not drift away on the wind. My arms held her back, though not as tightly as I had before as she was holding me now. I did not mind how much she squeezed or how long it lasted so long as it happened and it was real.

I nearly wondered if she held onto the Vicomte this way, but banished the thought before it could take root. I would not have that boy spoiling this moment for me. It would be just Christine and me for my memories to fall back to in moments of loneliness. I could have this bliss for now.