A/N: Longest chapter yet! There is angst, fluff, and a bit of humor. Please read and review!
The first thing that Erik noticed when he awoke was a peculiar feeling of safety and comfort. The second thing he noticed was that Christine was seated on a chair beside his coffin bed and was holding one of his hands in hers, smiling at him kindly. "That smile is enough to drive away all the gloomy thoughts in the world," Erik thought, quivering slightly.
"Erik," Christine said softly, her smile widening, "You're awake."
"So I am," he mumbled shyly, sitting up and averting his eyes, "Where... where is my mask? Erik needs his mask..." He began looking around for it.
"No you don't," Christine said softly, "I've told you before, Erik, you may show me your face without fear." Erik located the mask and placed it over his face. He tied the strings, then turned to face Christine.
"Silly, silly Christine," Erik said, "Erik's only fear is that Christine shall be frightened of him. Erik knows that Christine isn't ready yet. Not yet, but perhaps someday she will be?" He cocked his head to the right.
A silent tear rolled down Christine's cheek. "My poor Erik," she thought, "How much longer until I gain the courage to set you free from your loneliness? How much longer until I am strong enough to give you the happiness you deserve?"
"Christine is going to cry!" Erik thought, noticing the solitary teardrop, "Erik has made her unhappy! What should he do? Should he beg forgiveness? When Erik was crying, Christine came to him and showed him comfort. Perhaps it is time for Erik... to comfort Christine." Tentatively, he reached out his trembling bony hand and, lightly as he could, brushed away Christine's tear with his thumb. She lifted her eyes to meet his, making his heart pound in his chest.
"Thank you, Erik," she whispered. He felt the blood rush to his cheeks, and was grateful that the mask prevented her from seeing him blushing at her gratitude. He quickly pulled back his hand, attempting to regain his composure.
"You are welcome, my dear," he said, climbing out of the bed, "Now what is it Christine would like for supper?" She looked up at him from her chair, smiling pleasantly.
"Surprise me," she said. Erik cocked his head once more.
"Chicken Alfredo it is then," he said, and began walking towards the door, but paused halfway there, "Come, Christine, Erik does not wish to leave you once more in the company of his diary." Blushing, Christine followed him out. He locked his bedroom door and sauntered off to the kitchen, leaving Christine to occupy herself until supper was ready.
"So far, Erik has been leaving me alone when I eat," she thought to herself, "Perhaps this evening I'll ask him to join me. He needs to eat. He's so thin... I wonder if he forgets to feed himself? Perhaps he lives off music." She smiled at this thought. "And his skin, oh, his skin is so cold! When was the last time it saw the sun? Next summer, I must take him to the sea. Perhaps the salt air and the sunlight will do him good. He has been my angel, my guardian, and now I must be his. He taught me to sing, and now, I shall teach him to live."
With this thought, Christine hurried to her bedroom to dress for dinner. She opened the wardrobe and pulled out a blue satin gown that Erik had given her, saying it would set off her eyes. She brushed out her long, blonde curls and tied her hair in a ponytail with a blue ribbon that matched the dress. Lastly, she slipped into a pair of brown shoes, and daubed on a touch of rouge. She had just finished these preparations when she heard a timid knock at her door.
"Dinner is ready," Erik said from outside her door. Christine opened it, and he gasped. Nothing could have possibly prepared Erik for what he saw. Christine was beautiful! He staggered backwards, one hand pressed to his heart, the other reaching out slightly towards Christine. He wheezed, looking as if he was about to fall down. Christine ran and grabbed his arm, supporting him as best she could.
"Erik, are you alright?" she asked, her dazzling blue eyes filled with concern. Erik nodded, his breathing shaky.
"C-Christine," he stuttered, "You're b-beautiful!" Christine blushed a bright pink, which to Erik made her seem that much more gorgeous. His head was swimming, and all he could do was stand there and look at her. "Her eyes... Erik was right, the dress really does set them off! And her skin looks so lovely... What Erik wouldn't give to kiss those hands... those cheeks... and, oh God, those lips! Erik would give anything for Christine to press those sweet lips to his... They would be so soft... so soothing... A kiss from Christine could take away all the pain... Perhaps Erik's face would even become normal if Christine bestowed upon it her sweet kisses... No. Erik mustn't think of that. This is no fairy tale. The only magic is that of Christine's mercy! And no matter how merciful she is, an angel like her could never want to kiss a rotting corpse like Erik, could she? Oh, but if she did..."
Christine blushed redder under the intensity of Erik's stare. His golden eyes looked hungry, as though they would consume her. His gaze roamed over her from head to foot, drinking in her beauty as Tantalus would drink a pitcher of water offered to him by some merciful wood nymph. He was trembling slightly, and his breathing was still irregular, but he was steadier now that she was supporting his arm.
"Erik, are you alright?" she repeated, breaking the spell. His eyes snapped back to hers, and he stood up straighter.
"Fine, my dear. Please forgive poor Erik, he did not mean to frighten you so," he said, "It's just... you're so lovely. Erik isn't used to loveliness, you see. He hasn't known you long enough to be used to it yet." Christine blushed again.
"Erik, you flatter me," she said, smiling.
"But it's true Christine!" he exclaimed, gently extracting his arm from her hand and leading her towards the dining room. Christine noticed that the table was only set for one. She turned to Erik.
"Erik, will you join me for dinner?" she asked. Erik's breath caught in is throat. "She wants me to join her? Why?" he thought.
"Erik... is not allowed," he said quietly.
"What do you mean, Erik?" Christine asked.
"Mother didn't let Erik eat at the table," he muttered, looking at his shoes, "Erik ate in his room if Erik ate at all."
"You poor thing!" Christine cried, wrapping her arms around him in a gentle embrace. She felt him tense, then relax into her arms. "You won't have to eat alone anymore," she said softly, "Please Erik, join me?" She pulled back slightly in order to look him in the eye. He paused for a moment, then nodded. She smiled at him. Erik extracted himself from her arms and pulled out Christine's chair for her. She sat, and he pushed it in, then went around to the opposite side of the table and sat down across from Christine. She began to eat, but after a few moments stopped and looked at Erik.
"Erik, is there any more food? You're not eating anything," she said.
"Erik is not hungry," he said, looking down at the table to avoid his angel's gaze.
"Please eat something," Christine said, "You're so thin, Erik."
"I... I can't," he mumbled.
"Why not?" she asked. Erik sighed and looked up at her.
"Christine, my mask covers my mouth. To be able to eat I have to take it off, and I don't wish to disgust you," he said.
"Erik, you don't disgust me," she said, reaching across the table and taking his hand, "I want you to eat with me." Erik sighed, then stood up and walked over to a chest of drawers. He pulled out a place mat, some silverware, and two napkins. He set himself a place across from Christine, then turned away from her, removed his mask, and placed the napkin over his head so that only his mouth was showing. He turned to Christine.
"Better?" he asked. Christine smiled.
"Much," she replied. He turned from her again, lifted the napkin up so that he could see, and went into the kitchen. A few moments later he returned, carrying a plate with a meager helping of food and a glass of white wine. The napkin once more covered his eyes, so he groped his way to the table and set down the glass and plate. He found the knife and fork by touch, then tapped the fork around his plate until he found the chicken. He cut off a bite and tried to bring it to his mouth, but missed by a couple of inches, then corrected his error. He found his napkin and wiped the alfredo sauce off his chin. Christine began to laugh, and rose from her seat.
"Poor Erik," she said, coming around to his side of the table and taking a seat beside him, "Here, let me help you." She picked up his knife and fork, cut a bite of chicken, and brought it to his lips. Erik opened his mouth, and she placed the bite of chicken inside, then removed the fork and set it down. She picked up the wine glass and brought it to his lips, then tipped it so that he could drink. Erik was trembling now.
"She's feeding me!" he thought, "She's taking care of her wretched monster! No one else has ever fed me with their own hands before! Oh, I shall savor each little morsel she feeds me as a gift sent from heaven!" Christine continued feeding him until all the food was gone, and the wine, too. She then took the napkin and gently wiped Erik's lips, causing a shiver to run down his spine. She then returned to her own place at the table and resumed eating her dinner. Erik turned from her, and replaced the napkin with the mask.
"He seemed to like being fed," she thought, "And I rather enjoyed feeding him. He's so timid sometimes, like a small child. What was his childhood like? He said his mother didn't let him eat at the table. He had to eat all alone, but not anymore. I'll feed him breakfast, lunch, and dinner if that's what it takes. I will be strong. He needs me to be strong. I'm strong enough to keep him company, but that isn't enough. Please God, give me the strength I need. Give me the strength... to love him"