The world seemed to spin around Erik, and he slowly sank into the armchair next to him. She didn't remember. The explosion, the choice, the Vicomte and Persian coming to her rescue, nothing. What could he do? Tell her, scar her for life, make her hate him, and let her leave him here, alone, to die in the cold and dust?
It's no more than Erik deserves. Erik thought woefully. But this could go a different way, too. He could tell her a lie; make her think that they were together, this was their house, that they were in love, and that the Vicomte de Changy didn't exist, along with the Persian.

NO! Erik cannot do that to her. What if she someday remembers? Besides, she should know the truth, shouldn't she? Erik's thoughts ripped at each other while he stood in silence in front of Christine who was giving him a questioning look.

But maybe it was better if she never knew. She'd be happier. And that was what mattered wasn't it? But could he really do that, lie to her after all this time, and make her love him through another lie? She was mad enough about the Angel of Music lie. But maybe she would never regain her memory. She'd be happier this way, and so would Erik. But the moral compass in Erik's head stopped him from giving in right away. He faltered, and he found that he could not tell her a thing.

"Erik shall explain another day. You are recovering from an accident. You need to rest." He held a hand out, trying to usher her from his room.
As she left, her feet not making a sound as the hit the floor, she mouthed "Soon, please." tohim, and then allowed him to shut the door behind her.
Inside the room, Erik sunk to his floor, tears collecting at the bottom of his mask.

Back in her room, Christine sat on her swan bed, confused. Why would the man- Erik, she supposed, after hearing him speak his name- not tell her? Did she do something? Did something happen that was her fault? Was she a thief, a murderer, or a con artist? Was she high society? Was she the king's wife? Was she a widow with three children waiting for her somewhere? She had no idea. What could she have possibly done that Erik would need to time to summon the courage to tell her what had happened?

Am I a bad person? Christine thought, tears pooling in her sky blue eyes and leaking onto her skin. What reason do I have for being a bad person? Am I homeless, poor, starving, or outright scared? Various situations ran through her head, none of them holding any comfort for her. All they did was made her cry more.

WHO AM I?

At the opposite end of the hall, Erik remained on the floor, his brain arguing and taking side for and against telling her the truth. There were so many different pros and cons to each situation- how could he pick? But Erik knew that he could not simply leave her in the dark, whether he illuminated her with lie or the truth was a moot point. It was all down to his rather askew moral compass. And currently, it told him to tell her what really happened, so she could go on with her life, forget him, be happy, find someone else who didn't have to hide in the dark and kill to live. But the knowledge that she chose to ignite the gunpowder rather than marry him would haunt her to the end of her days, and he knew that meant the for her, happiness wasn't much of an option for her future. So in the end, what would benefit them both?

War raged in the minds of them both, locked into their rooms, tears collecting on the floor. Neither of them really knew what to do, but Erik was in the worse position. The fate of them both in his hands, night closed in around what was left of his lair. Neither he nor Christine left that night for what little food or water was in the kitchen. Both fell asleep hugging themselves, curled up on the floor, thoughts still raging in their heads about the monster that lay at their feet.

Even with all accesses to a time teller of any sort blocked, they both awoke at day break, their internal body clocks having not abandoned them yet. Dried tears coated their faces, and they were stiff from falling asleep in a sitting position.

Erik awoke first, and quickly stood, smoothing his clothing, ashamed to be sleeping on the floor like a child. He fixed his mask, which was slightly askew, and went to change clothes in the bathroom connected to his room. All the while, he thought about his choice. Sleep had given him an answer, dreams acting the various consequences of each decision. He knew which would be better for the both of them in the long run, and he had to tell her as soon as he saw her.

In her room, Christine was wiping away her tear stains, and fixing her hair. She had already changed, today's dress being one of simple burgundy with white lace at her throat. Her shoes matched, and her hair was tied back with a white ribbon. And she wanted answers- she was prepared to demand them of this "Erik". What right did this man, who seemed too afraid to show her his face, have to deny her facts of her recent life?
None! Christine declared in her mind.

She left the vanity mirror to walk to her door, only to find Erik on the other side. She let out a silent gasp, and stumbled back. Erik gave her a gentlemanly bow before stepping in and closing the door behind him.

"Christine. Erik has to tell you what happened." He started, nervously shifting his fingers as he sat Christine down on her swan bed. He was about to continue standing up, but she insisted that he sit by patting the bed next to her.
Erik gave her a slight smile and joined her. His lips opened, and he began to spin a tale of them, happy, living in his house, but there was an explosion for unknown purposes, and the entire left section of the house had collapsed, blocking them from society. At this point, Christine interrupted by tapping his shoulder. She mouthed the words and mined eating and drinking, then shrugged.

"I have an extensive stockpile of food and drink." Erik said quickly, so she didn't think he still had access to the above ground world. Christine seemed to accept this, and nodded for him to continue his tale.
Erik told her that after the incident, she was injured and in a coma for several days. How long, he knew not. But he did admit that every second that passed felt like a year without her awake. At this point Christine again stopped his, asking him if they were married by pointing to herself and then him, then to her ring finger. Before Erik could stop himself, he nodded. Christine looked at him shyly, then motioned between the two of them, then pointed at her lips.

At first Erik was confused. Then, he realized. Shock pricked through him. She's asking if she can kiss me. Erik nodded, trying to smile and hide his shock at her question as she leaned towards him and gently pressed her rosy lips to his malformed, papery ones. Then she mouthed thank you for taking care of me while pointing at herself and then the bed.

"It was no issue, my dear." Erik said, trying to sound calm, like her kissing him was a normal occurrence. "I'm just glad you're okay." His voice faltered slightly. He leaned to her, his arms raising hesitantly, and awkwardly wrapping around her. She didn't seem to notice anything and leaned into his chest, resting one hand on his back and one on his shoulder, pleased at their sudden embrace. She had been about to ask him about his mask, but that could wait. At for the first time in a long time, as Christine cuddled against him, Erik thought that maybe everything could be alright.

Okay, so this chapter was a little sappy, but I promise the next chapter has some violence in it! It's not all hugs and kisses. Look at that, updating twice in a day. I'd say you're welcome, but I don't know if anyone is enjoying this. *cough review cough*

Until next time! Hopefully the next chapter will be up within the next few days. But I'm busy on Wednesday, so it may or may not be before then.

-Happy Whatever