I seem to be the source of many tears after last chapter, but I will not accept full blame for this! If our dear Erik was not such a tragic figure and all of us just such softies for him, things wouldn't have been so bad! Right? *sniffs*

And I hope that everyone had a lovely Valentines, whether you have a significant other or not :)

Now, onward!

XXIV

Christine didn't know how long it was that she clutched at Erik, and would likely have pulled away much sooner if she had not eventually felt the tentative fingers, the timid arms that encircled her. That held her just as she held him.

"You must be hungry," he remarked eventually, his voice tight and strained.

She was. Most assuredly so. But she hadn't realized how she had missed this—this simple act of human contact, of giving a hug and appreciating its reciprocation. It was a common thing with her papa, a way of greeting and of leaving, as well as simple affections born simply of fondness.

And yet…

Somehow it felt wrong to compare the two. Erik was her friend, and if he had his way, would someday be more, and while her feelings toward him were still confusing, she knew with absolute certainty that there was nothing familial about it.

She stepped backward, feeling strangely bereft when they were no longer touching.

Erik turned away from her, and she watched him discreetly wipe at his eyes with yet another handkerchief, this one crisp and black, as he struggled with his composure.

Her poor Erik.

Because she was coming to realize, whether or not she had meant to do so, that one simple smile in the courtroom had bound this unhappy man to her. And that was not at all the burden she had thought it would be.

She approached him quietly and laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Are you all right?" she murmured softly.

He cleared his throat and the handkerchief vanished into some hidden pocket, and despite the redness about his sunken eyes, he looked much more himself. "You do not… you cannot know what your… care… means to me, Christine."

She smiled grimly. "I haven't had anyone to hold me for a long time either. I'd forgotten how nice it is. How important."

Erik scoffed but immediately appeared stricken at her hurt expression. "Oh, forgive me, my sweet. I do not wish to diminish your pains. I only meant that I… I have never had someone to hold me. It is a very new experience and I…" He looked at her sheepishly. "I like it very much."

She didn't know why she blushed at that. They hadn't kissed, they most certainly hadn't been intimate—at least not in any physical way. But in the manner Erik had used the word, in sharing and accepting and knowing…

They had been very intimate. Very intimate indeed.

And she liked it, yet that did not trouble her as much as it used to.

The sound of rustling tissue drew both of their attentions, Boo apparently having spent the entirety of his persons' exchange resting comfortably in his nest of crinkled paper, but now deciding that Erik's leather chair was a much more desirable spot.

And when Christine saw Erik's look of consternation as Boo very carefully positioned himself against the arm, blinking at them in ever increasing tiredness, she couldn't help but laugh.

"Stop your glaring and let him be. If he's sleeping he's not clawing."

Erik sniffed and before she had even noticed he had done so, felt his hand encircling hers, leather against skin, as he led her to the kitchen.

-X-

"You cannot be serious," Erik informed her, not for the first time.

Christine sighed and tore off part of the crispy crust of her chosen breakfast. "I like toast," she answered simply.

He frowned. "I offer to make you anything, anything in the world, and still you insist upon something so… common."

Christine rolled her eyes at that. "Common perhaps, but no less delicious."

Yet he continued to look at it with such displeasure, and she wondered if she'd hurt him somehow by picking something so simple. "I told you, I'm not one for large breakfasts! However," she added in compromise, "if you want to make me some fabulous dinner… I don't think I'd object."

He brightened slightly at that. "Dinner," he mused, and already she could see his mind flipping through recipes as he tried to pick which one would please her most.

How things had changed in so short a time.

She looked down at her toast, still delicious and wonderful regardless of his objection to it, but now there was a lump in her throat as she looked at it.

Did she eat it because she truly loved it, or simply because she was used to it?

"I couldn't afford much," she confessed, picking off another piece and popping it in her mouth, trying valiantly to keep the crumbs from covering the table. "So I just… bread and peanut butter and jam…" She gave a little shrug. "It's filling and tasty and I guess I'm used to it."

Erik scowled, but it did not seem to be directed at her. He had yet to retrieve his mask, and she wondered if it was on purpose or if he'd merely forgotten about it.

She decided that she much preferred to see his face, unfortunate though it might be.

Because it was a part of him, and if she was to understand him, it was important that she be reminded of what had driven him to the outskirts of the world.

"I wish for you to be cared for properly. Not to know hunger or cold or pain. I think that even… even if you reject me entirely, I would still ensure that you were well provided for."

She pushed her toast away and took a deep breath. She'd have it again to be sure, but for now… maybe it wouldn't be so bad to let him take care of her.

At least for a while.

And to embrace this morning ritual that had so long ago been dearly loved, but this time, to do so with him.

"Maybe some eggs then."

His answering smile was more than she could bear, and as she sat on the counter and watched him prepare her breakfast, she reveled in each surreptitious glance sent her way, as if he was simply ensuring she was there and pleased with him.

And if all that it took to make him happy was providing her with filling, healthful meals, who was she to complain?

The omelet he created for her was delicious, but with each bite she began to remember that there were three individuals locked away upstairs that would also require nourishment. But still she had that niggling desire just to be, to push away that unpleasantness until all that remained was good food and sweet company, and a mutual love for a little Boo that had yet to vacate Erik's chair.

Christine wondered when she had become such a sap.

Erik ate nothing, something she would question at some point, but not now. Not when every forkful of perfectly cooked eggs melted with the lightest of cheese, bits of salty ham providing a wonderful counterpoint to the mildness of the rest.

He watched her carefully, something she was growing used to, although it made her all the more determined to convince him to join her for meals. The mask would have been troublesome to eat with, that much was certain, but if he was willing to forego it…

She thought he would make a delightful dinner companion.

From the way he showed her about his home, it was clear that he was more involved in its construction than simply hiring a clever architect. There was a glimmer of pride as he demonstrated the way the lights functioned, the hidden panel where she could raise or lower the ambient temperature, the hidden toaster that according to him she utilized far too frequently.

The mere fact that he had a home beneath one of the grandest structures in their fair city was a testament to his creative genius. And while he would likely end up intimidating her with his intellect, she would still like to know him better.

Erik shifted in his chair and she realized rather belatedly that she had been staring at him, and tried to hide her smirk at his discomfort. Perhaps it was good that he come to recognize how uncomfortable it could be.

Only to then feel immeasurably guilty. For he had much better reason to feel self-conscious than she.

She looked down at the eggs at her plate, taking another bite, savoring it a little less this time as her feelings corrupted an otherwise delicious omelet.

"We can ignore them, if you would prefer," Erik suggested abruptly.

"Ignore who?"

He made a vague gesture toward the ceiling, and she presumed he was referring to the captives upstairs. And the guilt niggled further as her heart leapt at the prospect of forgetting that entire business.

"We can't," she murmured softly, more a reminder to herself than to him.

Erik leaned forward in his chair, his eyes bright and furtive. "But we can! I was… Perhaps this trial was unnecessary. If I had thought, had ever dreamed that you could think well of me without them, I would not have brought them!"

Christine swallowed thickly and set down her fork. "Erik," she began slowly, too conflicted to form any quick response. He waited patiently, his eyes never leaving hers, almost as if he truly cared what her thoughts and words would be.

It was a strange thing, to be so listened to.

For her opinions to be valued.

She released a ridiculous giggle. At least, her opinions mattered as long as they did not include returning to her apartment and refusing to see him.

Erik grew alarmed and she forced down the rest of her embarrassing laughter. "I'm sorry, I don't know what's come over me."

He eyed her shrewdly. "Perhaps your predilection for peanut butter and dried bread hid a chemical imbalance in your brain. Obviously my reasoning that you should consume more protein was flawed."

He said this with such perfect solemnity that she started laughing anew, and she was absolutely certain that only further confirmed to him that she was suffering from some malady. Yet she couldn't bring herself to care, not when she was full of delicious food and tea that was lovingly prepared, and she had been hugged today, not once, but twice and she was…

Happy.

Strange and absurd though it might have been, it was undeniable.

And it left her feeling carefree and perhaps a bit reckless, but still, she knew how she wished to spend the rest of her day.

There would be time yet for her to convince him they needed to take a walk in the fresh snow. To test the limits of his care for her as well as his tenuous trust as she convinced him that the world above was not solely filled with darkness and pain.

But for now, she had something else in mind.

"Erik," she started again, smothering the last of her giggles with her hand. "You gave me a present today, and it would be terribly rude of you to take away my opportunity to use it. I've been overseeing this case now for quite some time, and I don't know about you, but I'd like to know the truth now."

He still eyed her skeptically. "You do not know enough of it? You know that I did not murder Poligny, and that is all I wanted."

She gave him a dubious look. "Really? You mean some part of you didn't want to do this for you? For you to remind them of what they put you through with their lies and deceit?"

Erik sniffed, and he tried for indignant, but still he seemed wary. Of her? Of her reaction to him?

"And if I did?"

Christine took a deep breath, warring with herself. Right or wrong, she couldn't say that she no longer understood why Erik acted the way he did. Not anymore.

"I would say," she started haltingly, still gathering her thoughts that even now felt only half formed. "I'd say that you were mistreated. Horribly so. And that you're right to be angry. But," she added firmly. "That doesn't mean that you get to hurt them!"

Did she misread his expression, or did he seem to pout slightly at her pronouncement?

"Come now, Erik," she tried again, her tone lowering into a tease. "Surely a brilliant man like you can come up with a better way to deal with them."

And this time when his eyes gleamed and a smirk grew upon his lips, she felt a shiver that had nothing to do with fear.

-X-

This time when Erik left her in the theatre as he travelled below to retrieve his defendants, Christine did not do any wandering. She made a very great show of selecting a comfortable seat, and solemnly declared that she would be in that precise spot when next he returned.

He seemed doubtful, but left her willingly enough.

It was still disconcerting being there all alone, the long shadows and utter silence oppressive as she sat. So to keep herself from growing agitated, and possibly reneging on her word as she sought the comfort of a window, she tried to imagine sitting in this same seat, only during a production.

There would be the hum of people as they sat about her, reveling in the same sights and sounds of musical art at its finest. The vibrant costumes, agonizingly cared for and stitched so as to present a seamless fantasy for the audience. A believable representation of a world now fallen away. The ecstasy of a perfectly sung aria, the soprano's voice perfectly mingling with the orchestra below until the audience could think of nothing, could remember nothing beyond the diva before them.

And she wanted it.

Not to be that performer, but to experience the unique thrill that came from witnessing a production in person.

Her papa had always teased that she was meant for the stage. It had been a dream of theirs, a happy daydream where he would play and she would sing, all to the enjoyment and praise of a full audience.

She couldn't actually picture herself performing. It was one thing to sing in front of diners as they busied themselves with food and drink. But to take the stage, to be their sole focus as she tried desperately to remember her technique…

She would much rather have an excuse to get dolled up in a pretty dress and sit in the audience, appreciating the music without the added pressures of performing.

And hoped that her papa would have understood that she couldn't dream like that anymore. Not after everything that happened.

"Ah, you are still here! And yet I was quite prepared to begin mustering the search parties," Erik teased, appearing from the darkened recesses of back stage.

Christine smiled thinly, fingering the gavel and the little round sound block carefully tucked away within her pocket as she tried to push away her sudden melancholy. "Sorry to disappoint. I can make a run for it if you'd like."

He had donned his mask once again before they departed, but his frown was still readily evident. "I would happily go the rest of my days without such a view."

A lump formed in her throat as she regarded him, so perfectly serious in his regard for her. How was it possible that no one else had noticed how sweet this man was?

He disappeared into the dark again, and she stood up and made her way onto the stage, finding him over by the many levers that controlled the numerous panels of the floor.

Christine held out her hand and stopped him from pulling it, not yet ready for them to have an audience.

Erik looked at her questioningly, and she tried to gather her thoughts so she could make her feelings clear.

"Erik I… I want you to know that I'm…" She huffed, wishing that words were not so difficult, that she could simply say what she meant and that he would understand. But this was important, and she was nervous, and they seemed stuck in the recesses of her mind, completely unwilling to be helpful.

He looked down at her hand resting upon his arm, the smallest of smiles tugging at his lips. "Yes, Christine?" he prompted.

She sighed. "You'll probably think it's stupid."

His eyes flickered back to hers. "Are you going to suggest again that I would knowingly leave you in a dark and frightening place? That I would wish for you to be hurt and scared and knowing that I would do nothing?"

Her eyes widened. She knew she had asked him that—if she had fallen behind on their journey above if he would leave her there, but it hadn't occurred to her that she had somehow wounded him by asking.

"Erik, no, not at all."

He gave a little shrug. "Then I would not think it stupid."

She smiled softly at that, his nonchalance and simplistic acceptance of things becoming an endearing quality. "I just wanted to say that I think you're very sweet and I'm sorry that no one ever noticed it before."

He stiffened. "You think Erik is… sweet?"

She frowned at him, not all sure why such an assessment would be met with offense. "Yes?" she answered hesitantly.

"Like a puppy? Or some small animal that must be pitied and cared for?"

Christine couldn't help it. She rolled her eyes and tugged at his hand until she held it within her own, and she briefly wondered what his skin there felt like, as it always seemed to be encased in a leather glove.

"No, you silly man! As in, I think you have a gentle soul and a caring heart and… and… those are very nice things for you to have!"

He blinked at her, and gave her that stare she was rapidly coming to recognize as the one where he questioned her sanity. But she stood by what she said, and no matter how he looked at her, she wasn't going to take it back.

She startled slightly when she felt his thumb gently smoothing over the back of her hand, and it was only then that she noticed how his expression had softened. "I will not say that I agree with your assessment, but I am… gratified to know that you think well of me."

Christine gave his hand a squeeze. "However, you probably shouldn't find it so insulting to be compared to a small and pitiful creature. I do tend to love them, you know."

He gave her an exasperated look and she chuckled. "Just a suggestion, no need to get snippy."

Erik sniffed and pulled one of the levers, and this time she was prepared for the floor to open as the gears creaked and hummed as they worked to bring the defendants up for trial.

She made to move closer, but Erik held fast to her hand until she turned back to face him. "I would gladly accept whatever love you could offer me. Any scrap of your affection is far more than I deserve. Not after what I've done to you."

Christine took a step nearer, and brought her other hand up to stroke his covered cheek ever so softly. "You're right. The things you've done to me would lead me to hate you. To fear you. To want nothing more than to escape from you."

Erik cringed.

"But the things you've done for me?" His eyes gave a gentle glow in the dim light, golden and beautiful in their way. "What someone deserves is a funny thing, something I would never presume to know. But what I feel…" she brushed her thumb against the small bit of visible flesh by his eye. "I feel that you should have far more than a scrap of affection for how kind and attentive you have been."

The stage settled with a mild thud, reminding them both that they were no longer alone. But before she could pull away, Erik grasped the hand that caressed his cheek, placing an unpracticed kiss against her palm. "I do not deserve you," he reiterated, and she tried to catch her breath at the strange way her heart sped and her stomach flipped at his action.

"I… we should…"

He nodded and flipped a few more levers, spotlights from above providing ample illumination as Christine's chair also appeared from the mystical world below the stage.

All three figures appeared exhausted, heavy circles under their eyes as they warily watched Erik and Christine approach.

"Good day, everyone," Erik announced cheerily, although the undercurrent of mockery was still readily apparent. "I would apologize for our late beginning, but, well, let me simply say that I will never regret the events of this morning."

Christine blushed and occupied herself by pulling out her new gavel, only to glance upward at the feeling of being watched. The second man, the one not yet given opportunity to speak, was staring at her intently.

Until Erik stepped between them, this time his voice reproachful. "It's rude to stare, Daroga," he chastised firmly.

The man merely glared in response.

"Now, since I have given you all ample time to consider your cooperation in this matter, let us hope that our trial can reach completion today, yes? I do not know about any of you, but I think the idea of trying to sleep on a bathroom floor to be rather distasteful. I should wish to avoid it if at all possible. Besides," he added, this time moving slightly so he could give her a tenuous smile. "I should rather like to move past this horrible business, and on to more pleasant things."

Christine offered a little smile of her own.

The defendant's gags prevented any verbal confirmation, but they all watched with mixtures of hostility and resignation as Erik escorted Christine to her seat. She noted with some appreciation that it wasn't so high and lofty today, but was at a far more comfortable level that still offered her an excellent view of their mock court.

"Christine," Erik murmured lowly, his voice so warm and affectionate that it sent a pleasant tremor through her heart. "Should you care to do the honors?"

All thought temporarily left her head as she tried to settle the feelings he elicited in her and instead focus on his words. "Honors?"

He glanced pointedly at her gavel and she straightened. "Oh!"

She cleared her throat and gave it a perhaps too enthusiastic whack, the sound echoing through the vacant theatre. "Court is now in session," she announced primly. "Erik, would you care to see if Mr. Debienne has anything more to say?"

Erik's smirk was devious and altogether pleased, and somehow it pleased her in turn to have been the cause of it.

"Certainly, my dear," he intoned before going behind Mr. Debienne and undoing his gag with exacting fingers before once again stuffing the fabric into the man's front pocket.

"Well, Claude? Have you anything you would like to confess?" Erik's voice lowered into a dangerous caress. "Or shall I have to become more creative with my inducements?"

And as his eyes widened in fear at Erik's perfectly legitimate threat, Christine dearly hoped that he would simply tell them all that he knew.

Sooo... Looks like Christine is still very conflicted about her feelings for Erik, but there's no point in denying their existence anymore! And I know a lot of you would like to just forget about the hostages and stick with the Erik and Christine romantics, but I promise I'm not going to drag things out unnecessarily. There will be plenty more moments for them very soon, especially since Christine is now getting the hang of this judgeship business! So please just stick with me.