I do not own The Phantom of the Opera. I hope you figured that out by now. By the way, I'm still looking for a beta.
The first thing that Christine saw when she woke up was a white mask, and the sight of it scared her almost as much as her entire nightmare did. The darkness made the mask look like it was floating in the air, but she could see Erik's eyes clearly. They stared at each other for a long moment as if they were wondering how they got there.
"Christine?" Erik finally asked tentatively, "Are you alright?"
"I had a nightmare," she said slowly, almost as if she didn't believe it herself.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Erik said in a tone one would use with a small child.
Christine nodded furiously and launched into an explanation of her dream, and Erik just listened silently. "Were you scared because you saw my face?" he asked so gently that it was heart-breaking.
"A little," Christine said truthfully.
It probably wasn't the best thing to say, but she really wasn't in a state of mind for tact. Relating the dream to Erik brought the memory of her father to the front of her mind, and she was suddenly assaulted by a sharp burst of pain at his memory. It hadn't been this bad in years, and she was unsure why she missed her father so much at that moment. Tears began to fall from her eyes unchecked, and she sat up in bed.
Christine instinctively put her arms out like she did as a little girl when she had nightmares. Erik leaned over and put his arms around her, unsure of what to do, and Christine buried her face in his shoulder. He stood absolutely still and let her cry, unsure of what else to do.
After a minute or so, Christine steeled herself enough to pull away from Erik, and she eyed the wet spot she made on his shirt because she was unable to meet his eyes. As her stabbing grief dissipated, it was replaced by an awkward self-awareness. Erik was in her room while she was sleeping. A blush colored her face, and she could tell that Erik was aware that a line had been crossed, too. The strange thing was that she was almost…glad that he was there. Her conflicting emotions just made her feel even worse.
Erik muttered, "Goodnight," before he left the room quickly.
Madame Giry saw him walk out of Christine's room, and her eyes narrowed at him.
"What happened?" she asked quickly, looking at the spot on his shirt suspiciously.
"Christine had a nightmare, that's all," Erik explained. Madame Giry's expression didn't change.
"You should have called me," she said.
"I know." He looked at the floor like a misbehaving child.
"I've been meaning to talk to you for some time, Erik." Her softer tone made him look up, and he saw that her face was softer now.
"About what?"
"Christine." He didn't respond; he expected something like this for a while now. When he didn't answer, she continued, "She still misses her Vicompte, even if she doesn't show it. Be careful with her Erik."
"I know," he said.
"Do you? She usually puts on a smile when she's unhappy; you know her. Don't push her."
"I wasn't!" he replied, a little too sharply.
"I can't be sure of that, but watch your words around her. If you don't, you'll have to answer to me. Goodnight, Erik."
"Goodnight," he said back, but she had already turned around and began to walk away.
Erik stood on the spot for a while, thinking. There was a lot in that conversation that he wanted to mull over, and he wasn't sure how to feel about everything that Madame Giry said. He wanted to be angry at her, but at the same time, he just felt sad and strangely empty. There was no way that he could go to bed now, so he began to pace the hallway. After a while, he decided that he needed space; he wanted to go up to the roof. The house on the lake was getting too crowded, and just needed room to breathe for the rest of the night.
Christine was listening to Erik's footsteps outside her door. They were getting softer and louder in a slow rhythm, and she knew that he was pacing. She didn't want to go back to sleep after the dream that she had, so she just listened to Erik walk and let her mind wander. While she lay still, she wondered why he was pacing. Before he started, she heard voices just outside her door. He probably had some conversation with Madame Giry, but she didn't know what either one of them could say to make him pace like that.
Christine counted three lengths of the hallway before she noticed a change in Erik's footfalls. They were getting harder and quicker; they sounded almost agitated, like Erik was brooding. She poked her head out her door to see what was wrong.
"Erik?" she asked.
Her voice pulled him from his reverie, and stopped him before he went up to the roof.
"Yes?" he replied.
"Are you alright?" she asked, echoing what he said to her earlier.
"You should be in bed," he responded, avoiding her question.
"So should you," she retorted.
"I suppose so."
"Why were you pacing?"
"I was couldn't sleep," he lied. He didn't want to discuss his conversation with Madame Giry with Christine.
"I can't either, not after the nightmare."
There was a silence, and neither one met the other's eyes for the moment. Erik was eager to get up to the roof, and every moment spent in the conversation with Christine delayed him. He wanted to go, but he didn't see a way to politely end the conversation without being rude to Christine. After another moment of thought, he made a compromise with himself.
"I was going to take a walk," he said, "Do you want to come with me?"
"Yes...wait for me and I'll change. It's better than staying awake all night."
While he waited for Christine, Erik couldn't help but think of what Madame Giry said to him. Was he pushing her?
When Christine finished changing, she looped her arm through Erik's and smiled at him. There was something in the smile that told Erik that Madame Giry was wrong; Christine was probably the one who was pushing him more than anything.