Thank you to those who sent me reminders about updating! They were tremendously helpful... especially since it slipped my mind yet again about updating today. I was all set to do it when I woke up, but then my cat (who gave me some terrible health scares the past six months) was having an off day so I was preoccupied with monitoring her. But she seems to be doing better, much to my relief! (And the relief of my pocketbook. Five days in a vet hospital? Ouch).

Anyway, Addmein, this is for you... you've been asking for this for about twenty chapters now, and I finally get to deliver :)

Onward!

XXIII

"I have a present for you," Erik greeted her as she emerged from her bedroom.

The bedroom.

Because it simply would not do to admit how comfortable she was becoming here, with the beautiful clothes, the luxurious bath, and the oh so comfortable bed that was christened by her mother's quilt.

It simply wouldn't do.

"Really?"

She didn't mean to sound wary, as none of his gifts had proven to be dreadful. Some of the notes had frightened her, and that was quite wretched of him, but he had given her lovely flowers and Boo, so she supposed it was reasonable to have a rising measure of excitement at the prospect.

He eyed her questioningly from his easy position in his leather armchair. "Yes, really. Why would I claim to have one only to disappoint you?"

Christine sighed. She had slept well, but the heat from the bath had made her languid and sluggish, and all she wanted now was a strong cup of tea to revive her.

But instead she found herself moving toward Erik and collapsing on the sofa with far less grace than she was aiming for.

He was still staring at her skeptically.

"I didn't mean it like that; it was just something to say. If you tell me that you got me a present, then I believe you." And in an attempt to change the mood from the suddenly sullen air, she added, "Did you bring me another kitten? I'm terribly fond of the first one, you know."

Erik hummed noncommittally, but instead of handing her a fuzzy new friend to fuss over, or even a wrapped package to open, he leaned toward the table beside him and poured her a cup of tea, handing it to her with only the slightest eye roll at her surprised expression.

"I have come to notice that you seem to be of a more cheerful disposition after you have completed this particular morning ritual."

His head tilted ever so slightly to the left. "Although with you it also seems to be an afternoon custom as well. Are you certain that you do not suffer from some kind of addiction?"

Christine scoffed and took a deep sip of the hot tea, immeasurably pleased that without her careful instruction he seemed to know the exact amount of cream and sugar for her liking.

But then, he did seem to want to please her however he could, so perhaps it was not such a strange thing after all.

He allowed her to sink back into the cushions of his remarkably plush couch and savor her tea and the quiet for a moment, only for the silence to be broken by Boo's sudden appearance.

Erik frowned as he sauntered closer, mewing all the while before he came close enough to attempt to use the fine arm of Erik's chair as a scratching post.

Only to be promptly scooped into Erik's arms before any damage could be inflicted, as Christine merely watched in amusement.

"And here I was about to apologize for not bringing you a gift as well, you ungrateful fellow," Erik murmured reproachfully.

But at hearing Boo's purr of contentment, settling against Erik's chest and blinking at her so very slowly, Christine couldn't help but laugh. "I think you gave him precisely what he wanted."

Erik sniffed but made no move to dislodge Boo from his new position, although he managed to sneak a hand behind one of the pillows and bring forth a plain rectangular box.

Christine couldn't remember the last time she was given an actual present.

And since the memory would likely only bring her pain to think of it, she made no attempt to do so.

She grabbed hold of it eagerly. It was fairly long but not very tall, and she gave it a quick shake to try to ascertain the nature of its contents without actually opening it.

Erik simply watched her, the smallest of smiles playing upon his lips. "I am told it is much more effective to open the lid," he teased.

She held the box a little more firmly and gave it another shake for good measure. "This isn't your gift anymore, it's mine, and I should get to decide how it's treated."

He raised a lone hand in a placating manner. "My apologies. I shall not intrude upon the process again."

Christine felt a little guilty at that, but he still seemed to be enjoying the process of gift giving so she raised her chin and gave a little sniff of her own, feeling more light and free than she had since… well, since she was brought here.

But maybe even longer than that.

And pushed away any guilt that what she felt was wrong. She wanted to enjoy today, regardless of the circumstances.

Christine placed her tea upon a coaster on the coffee table before turning her attention to the box resting on her lap.

She lifted the lid, wondering if it could be considered a proper present when it wasn't wrapped in paper, but decided as she rifled through the crisp white tissue that it did indeed.

And when she saw what Erik had gifted her, laughter, bright and genuine, bubbled forth.

"A gavel?"

She pulled out the polished mahogany mallet and a little wooden sound block, about to give it a strike before noticing Boo's quirked ears and thinking better of it.

"I realize now that I had ill-equipped you for your judgeship. I hope this will help to remedy my oversight."

Christine held the gavel carefully, testing how it felt in her hand as she tapped it lightly against her leg. It was heavier than she expected, and she supposed, in some strange way, it did fill her with some sense of authority—whether it was earned or not.

"Thank you, Erik. I like your gift very much."

He inclined his head ever so slightly in acknowledgement, and she was left with the distinct impression that he was embarrassed by her praise.

Embarrassed, yet pleased all the same.

She took another sip of her tea, the meaning of the present reminding her of what the rest of the day would hold.

It was unreasonable to think they could delay the proceedings. While it was confirmed that Erik had ensnared a killer, she could not allow them to remain locked within the confines of a restroom simply because she felt disinclined to venture from Erik's comfortable abode.

Even though at this moment she didn't want to do anything but continue to enjoy her tea and Boo's company, and perhaps learn more of her mysterious captor that was beginning to feel less of a jailer with every passing day…

"I thought I would fix you a proper breakfast before we return to the defendants," Erik offered, his long fingers finding a particularly pleasant spot near Boo's ear if his rumbling purr was an accurate sign.

Christine sighed and leaned her head against the back of the sofa cushion. "What would you be doing if there wasn't a trial going on?"

It mildly disturbed her how easily she had come to accept this trial, no matter the unmitigated illegality of the venture.

He blinked at her, evidently surprised by her question.

Erik looked down at Boo thoughtfully, but apparently the kitten had suddenly noticed the box of enticing tissue for he hoped down from Erik's lap in favor of investigating thoroughly.

Christine removed her gavel and offered the box, smiling fondly as he pounced and dug at the wrappings.

Ever the welcome distraction, her Boo.

He still did not answer her query regarding his life before the trial… before her, instead staring down at Boo with the same rapt attention as her own.

"Should you like another?"

Christine hesitated. She wanted to blurt out an immediate yes—that she worried over leaving Boo alone and without a friend for company whenever she had to go out. But she could not deny that to double the amount of supplies required, all the litter and food and toys needed to make two kittens happy and well cared for…

It was a difficult prospect given her slim income.

Except…

She no longer had an income.

She didn't have much of anything anymore, except what Erik gave her.

And that thought left her feeling rather despondent.

Christine watched as Boo nestled amongst his vanquished tissue, his long tail curling about his small body as he blinked mildly at the other, taller creatures in the room.

And she found herself being honest with him.

"Selfishly I would. I worry for him when he's all by himself, and maybe if he had a companion he wouldn't get lonesome. But it's a stretch for me to afford him by myself and to have another one to provide for…" she gave a little shrug. "And it's not like I have a job anymore, so I'm not sure what I'll do anyway."

Christine didn't even need to glance upward to know that he was frowning at her. Perhaps he was even scowling; such was the force of his gaze, even as she kept her gaze resolutely on Boo.

But maybe just a peek, just to ensure she hadn't angered him too much…

He took a sip from his own tea cup, and she tried to hide her cringe as she saw that he took no cream with the strong black brew.

"You would still like to leave, then?"

She picked at her sleeve, not expecting his calm demeanor. Somehow it made it worse to admit that she resented her lack of freedom. If he could only be horrid—frighten her with chains and lascivious comments, it would be so easy to hurt him.

But instead he was sweet and made tea and fetched her treasured heirlooms to make the beautiful room he had given her all the more inviting.

And offered to make her breakfast.

Mustn't forget the breakfast.

She groaned. "Why must this be so hard?"

Erik returned his delicate china cup to its saucer and placed it upon the side table. "It needn't be. I suppose from your perspective I can… understand your reticence. I am… well aware that I would be a burden upon any woman regardless of monetary or material offerings."

Christine blinked at him.

"That… you shouldn't say things like that. It isn't true."

He chuckled incredulously. "Is it not? I am perfectly aware of my sins, Christine, and they are many. Not the least of which requires me to wear this mask."

That she could not allow. Not when that was the absolute farthest thing from what troubled her about their strange… relationship. Was that even the proper word? Most people chose their friendships. Perhaps some were more compulsory than others, built on mutual need or familial obligation. But still… she supposed in the most literal sense, they did have a relationship.

Erik and her.

Together.

Her stomach gave a funny flutter at the thought.

Only to push away such thoughts and return her attention to Erik's preposterous statement.

"You stripped me of my choice, Erik! My freedom! I could not care less about your appearance. In fact, I do not fully understand why you think it's necessary to cover it!"

This time his stare was incredulous. "You cannot be serious," he answered drolly.

She crossed her arms and tried not to look too petulant. "Perfectly so," she answered, attempting to match his tone in kind.

And to her very great surprise, Erik slipped his mask away from his features, leaving his face bare for her to study.

Yet she could not seem to look away from his eyes, frantic and searching and so very angry as they stared at her.

"Well? Is it as you remembered?" His tone was biting and sarcastic, and she wanted it to smooth, to gentle, in that wonderful way that only he seemed to be able to manage…

She swallowed, and took a moment to re-familiarize herself with his appearance.

His skin was thin and yellowy, the planes of his face tight and harsh, with little cartilage to counter the sharp lines of his cheekbones.

It was clear he expected her to flinch away—to be filled with horror as she centered her ridicule upon the unfortunate defect of his birth rather than his less than questionable actions that she simply could not condone.

But instead she felt a stirring, perhaps pity, perhaps compassion.

Or perhaps something altogether different.

His eyes revealed more than he could know, as he watched and sneered, his posture taut and strained as he waited for her to react.

What would it have been like to grow up with such a face? Not to be petted and smiled at for being such a sweet looking child, with bright eyes and pretty features, a reminder of youthful innocence that was so appealing for adults to admire.

She did not know from where her courage came as she moved forward, perching on the arm of his chair as she leaned closer, her fingers soft and hesitant as she reached for him.

Only for him to lurch backward, his eyes wild and full of suspicion.

She hushed him softly and tried again, her thumb feather-light as she stroked the harsh cheekbone, the thin lips, the paper texture of his flesh. "I'm so sorry that this hurts you."

His brow furrowed, and this time his voice was little more than a croak—a strange sound coming from him. "It does not hurt."

Christine smiled at him sadly, her pointer finger smoothing the line that had formed from his confusion, finding that she liked the openness of his expressions now that she was free to look upon them.

"Oh, I think it does. I think it hurts you very badly. That you have been hurt for it and by it, and you by no means deserved to be treated like that. And for that I am dreadfully sorry."

Erik released a shuddering breath, and to her dismay her thumb caught one of his tears as he stared at her, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

Yet in the next breath she was being pulled into his arms, his face buried in her hair as his shoulders heaved and shuddered.

But he made no sound as he wept. And even though she was stiff and awkward, unsure of what to do when her kidnapper suddenly clung to her as if he could find absolution from her embrace alone, she finally allowed her arms to reach around him, her hands smoothing the silky strands of his hair as she fought down the lump in her own throat.

"It's going to be all right, Erik," she murmured, the assurance for herself or for him she could not tell.

He pushed away abruptly. "How can it be? When you admit that you want to be free of me—that you would leave me here alone where no one will ever smile at me. No one would remember or think well of poor, unhappy Erik as he withers and finally simply…"

Not remember him?

As if such a thing was possible.

As if she would want it to be possible.

She pushed past her own tears, the desire to be comforted as she tried to soothe a man's obviously tormented soul, repeating the question that he so resolutely avoided. "What would you be doing today, before all this started?"

And this time his hands left her completely, no longer clutching and reaching and finding, but clasped firmly, seemingly to keep them from trembling.

"Nothing."

She frowned. "You can't have done nothing. Everyone does something! Did you read or… perhaps you wrote all those lovely pieces I saw scattered around your music room?"

He glanced away from her. "I used to. There was such solace to be had in my music. But eventually even that can seem lonely and cold when still there is none… not a single entity in the whole of this world that thinks well of you."

Christine briefly considered reminding him that his actions could just as easily have frightened away any potential friendships. His willingness to kidnap, to hold captive, to so seamlessly coax confessions from those same victims, all related to a skill set far beyond a lonesome musician who whiled away his days beneath one of the country's grandest theatres.

But she would not pretend to understand him. She could feel his longing and despair. It exuded from him as thoroughly as his voice sent shivers down her spine, and that was at least something that was within her knowledge.

To feel so completely alone even when acquaintances offered to go for drinks after work.

She had not been ready for friendships, for the meaningful interactions that opened oneself to heartache and loss, so she spurned them with a polite smile and a suggestion of maybe another day, hoping that she wasn't lying.

That at some point her fear would dissipate and she would willingly and joyfully form those bonds that seemed so natural to everyone but her.

But one glance at Erik made it abundantly clear that he had no such offers. That he was the product of scorn and ridicule so intense that he had fled to the bowels of the earth rather than face such treatment again.

Until even his escape, the very sanctuary he had created, no longer held the sweet promise of blessed solitude, and became as much a prison as the stares and taunts he must have suffered above.

The arm of his chair was not the most comfortable place to settle, but she couldn't bring herself to move away from him. Not when he seemed so tense, his shoulders tight and rigid, his face so exposed and vulnerable.

"I want you to know that, even if I don't… live here with you at some point in future," that seemed a kinder way to mention her release, although even now she felt a strange clenching in her belly as she thought of leaving, "I would never forget you. Never ever."

He snorted at that. "Yes, you will remember the monster who held you captive. The one who dragged you up to the surface, like a gopher seeking a moment in the sun, where he showed you of what he was truly capable."

"You haven't hurt them," she reminded him weakly.

Or was she reminding herself?

She couldn't tell anymore.

He chuckled at that, a humorless sound that made her shiver, and not in the delightful way he had made her before. "Oh, but how I've wanted to. They who stayed silent when a man was incarcerated in their stead. But then to them I am not a man, am I? I am a ghost, beneath anyone's care or notice, until finally I have made them care!"

She flinched as his voice rose, and immediately he quieted, running a long finger against her sleeve at the wrist. "Forgive me," he pleaded, reaching to return his mask.

And maybe with it, his candor.

She stopped him with a gentle hand upon his arm. "Wait," she murmured. "Just… wait. I want to understand you, truly I do, and it… helps when I can really see you."

Erik appeared conflicted, his eyes flitting between the supple material of his mask and her face, searching for… something.

But he must have found the reassurance he needed for with a hesitant nod, he relented.

"You are too good, Christine. Far too good for the likes of me."

She smiled thinly. "I don't know about that, Erik. I just… I'd like to help you, if I can."

He grimaced. "You pity me," he remarked, his distaste at the idea obvious.

Christine sighed. "You say that as if it was a bad thing."

Erik scoffed. "And it is not? You feel sorry for a pitiful creature. And because you're good and kind you want to give it a scrap of affection. But that does not mean that you will ever look at me and see…" his voice trailed off and he gave a little shrug, his eyes no longer searching hers as he studied the floor.

Christine hesitated. It was the unspoken truth of his desire for her. That he did not simply want her to be a companion down here in the dark recesses of his home, but perhaps wanted something more—something that should worry and disgust her.

Only the want for another person was not so very unnatural, was it?

"How do you want me to see you?" she asked softly, already knowing the answer.

And this time when he looked at her, there was no mistaking the misery in his expression. "As a man. As a man you could maybe, someday, come to… care for."

To love.

He did not say it, but she heard it echo through her mind regardless, and knew it to be true.

"Erik, I started caring for you the first day of the trial. The real trial. If that was all that you wanted, you have it already, making all of this completely unnecessary."

His lips thinned. "That is not the same."

She reached out again, slowing her movements as he flinched, before once again resting her fingers against his cheek. "Then tell me what you want. What you really want."

His eyes, his colorless eyes looked at her so hopelessly that she nearly withdrew her command, but something kept her from doing so.

Instead, she waited.

And eventually Erik moaned and stood, leaving her to stare and watch as he paced about the room, his agitation obvious.

"I want you! However you will have me!"

"There is more than that," she pressed, shifting slightly so she was seated in his newly vacated chair, surprised by how warm the leather felt despite Erik's cool temperature.

Erik turned and his gaze was almost a glare, tempered only by his oh so tangible fear.

And yet she could offer him no relief. Not in this.

Because she needed to know, to hear the words spoken.

To understand.

Even more than she needed to know the circumstances of Mr. Poligny's death, she wanted to at last comprehend the motives of the man before her.

Erik moved to the bookcases and for a moment she feared he would leave her, but instead he grasped at the shelf and leaned his forehead against it, and she allowed him time for composure.

Perhaps it was unfair to press him so.

Already he had suffered so much.

But then he turned, tears wetting his cheeks and causing her heart to ache at the sight of them, his voice low and weak as he poured out the secret desires of his soul, laying them open for her perusal. For her mockery.

As if she would ever be capable of such a thing.

"I only wanted to be loved. To have a wife to call my own—who would be willing to call me husband. Who would smile at me fondly, would take her tea with me, as we read and sang. She would sleep far too much, but would look so peaceful and angelic while doing so that I would never dream of wakening her. She would love the stray kittens of the world that I could not bear to leave behind; would welcome them as she had welcomed me. And maybe she would even like to go for drives on Sundays."

He shrugged again, that same little lift of his shoulders, as if his perfectly reasonable desires should be so easily dismissed. "And I'd hoped that maybe that could have been with you."

She hadn't realized she had started to cry until he was coming forward with a proffered handkerchief. And through her tears she had to laugh at how perfectly gentlemanly he was—how old fashioned in both his manner and his deepest wants.

He hadn't forced her. Hadn't even broached the subject of anything beyond in terms of their relationship.

They were two broken souls—eager to be loved, to be needed, to be wanted, yet also so desperately afraid. And whether that fear was of loss or rejection, it was always there, tainting and polluting until they were stunted by inaction. Yet Erik had mustered his courage. And though the way he had sought to mend his loneliness was extreme, turning to sedatives and kidnapping and all that could have been dark and horrible…

With him it wasn't.

It meant cups of sweetened tea and cozy fires, and the promise of love and acceptance, if only she would allow it.

So when she stood and wrapped her arms about his torso—how thin he truly was!—she pushed away all doubt, all her frettings that what she felt wasn't normal, and simply… was.

"Thank you for being honest with me, Erik," she mumbled into his crisp lapel.

It didn't matter that he seemed too stunned to hold her in return.

All that mattered was that in this moment, she could picture the life he had described.

And thought that it was good.

Sooo... they hugged! And talking! And Erik cried, and all was right with the world, right?

For those of you who were hoping for some progress on their relationship front, I hope you enjoyed it! And for those who are wanting her to remember that he is her kidnapper, please take heart that I have not forgotten that particular aspect of their relationship, and this does not mean automatic sunshine and roses. But Christine needs comfort too, and she'll be getting her chance to make some pretty big choices... don't you worry.

I'd love to hear your thoughts, so please review!