A/N: Sorry for the long wait! This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful seawanderer, who is absolutely awesome for continuing a story that she abandoned. If you haven't read her story "Can it be?" go check it out RIGHT NOW! Erik will give you cookies!
Erik awoke the next morning feeling unusually squished. He was lying on his side, his back pressed against the cushioning of the coffin bed, with something warm and soft in front of him. He had no idea what was going on, until he opened his eyes and found himself face to face with a sleeping Christine. He felt perspiration beginning to form on his brow. "What on Earth is she doing in my bed?" he thought, "This is entirely indecent! But oh God, what a wonderful way to wake up... NO ERIK! You must not let your mind get the best of you! Quick! Where is my mask? Christine must not experience the horror of waking up to a corpse!"
Just as he was about to sit up and look for his mask, Christine opened her eyes. But she did not scream. She smiled.
"Good morning, Erik," she said cheerfully, "Did you sleep well?" Erik's jaw dropped. "Why isn't she recoiling in horror?" he thought, "Have I suddenly become handsome overnight?" He reached up and touched his face, feeling the same hollow cheeks and sunken eyes as always. He looked at Christine in bewilderment.
"You're not screaming," he said. Christine gave him a bemused look.
"No. Why should I be?" she asked.
"Because you're lying in bed with a monster!" he said. She frowned.
"You're not a monster, Erik," she said. And then she did something amazing. Something that no one else had ever done. She leaned over and kissed Erik on the forehead.
"A kiss!" Erik thought, "Finally, after all these years, a kiss! From Christine! Oh, her lips, they're softer than I ever imagined... Can it be? This must surely be some fantastic dream! But Erik has never had such a pleasant dream before... Could this be real? What has Erik done to deserve such a heavenly kiss? Oh... I could never ask for more than this!" He began sobbing uncontrollably, his whole body shaking violently.
"Oh, Christine!" he wailed, "Thank you, my angel! Oh, please! Erik loves you so much, Christine! He never dreamed you would deign to kiss his poor ugly forehead with your own sweet lips! Oh Christine, do you know how sweet your lips are? Oh, how Erik has longed for their touch! Thank you!"
Christine was stunned. "The poor man," she thought, "That was only a kiss upon the forehead! I wonder what would happen if I ever kissed him on the lips? I've never kissed a grown man before, other than my father. No man I've ever seen would react this way to being kissed. But Erik is a different sort of man, isn't he?" Gently, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close to her, offering the comfort of her embrace to him once more. She was growing quite accustomed to holding Erik in her arms, and found that having his cold, bony body nestled against hers was almost reassuring, in a way. It gave her a sense of belonging, of being needed.
As the last of Erik's sobs faded away, Christine pulled back slightly to look at him. His eyes were red from crying, but the corners of his mouth were curled up in a shy, hopeful smile.
"What would you like for breakfast, dear Erik?" Christine asked him. She saw his eyes widen in surprise.
"Dear Erik?" he thought, "She's never called me that before! And... yesterday... she said she cared for me! I wonder if...? No, it cannot be! Erik mustn't daydream, he must answer her question!"
"No no no, Christine," he said, "It is your choice what food you eat, Erik is here to serve you!"
"I'd like you to pick what we eat this morning," she said, "You will join me for breakfast, won't you?"
"I... I... I... Alright," Erik stammered. "I can't believe she wants me to eat with her!" he thought, "Perhaps the seemingly hopeless dreams I have harbored these past few months are actually coming true! Maybe she can learn to love me for myself! Oh, to be loved at last... How wonderful that would be... No, no, no, no, no! Erik must never hope for such things! Hope is difficult to build, but terribly easy to shatter. But Christine is gentle and kind! She would never shatter her poor Erik's hope like that, would she? Oh, Erik indulges in fantasy too much! What is he to her? A corpse. Erik is nothing but a corpse." The sound of Christine's voice shook him from his gloomy thoughts.
"Erik? What is wrong?" she asked, concern evident in her voice.
"Nothing, my dear," he replied promptly.
"Then why are you crying?" she said, reaching out her hand to gently wipe away his tears.
"I... I didn't even notice," he said, "Now what would you like for breakfast?" Christine smiled.
"How about Crepes Suzette?" she asked. He nodded, stood, picked up his mask, and walked over to the dresser.
"If you don't mind, miss Christine, I should like to dress in private," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Christine blushed and quickly left the room, then returned to her own chamber where she prepared herself for the day.
Erik closed his eyes and let out a shuddering sigh before beginning to dress. He made certain to look his best, wanting Christine to know him as a gentleman rather than the pathetic sobbing heap he had been acting like lately. Oh, it felt heavenly to have the years of longing for motherly comfort being fulfilled at last, but he wanted to show Christine that he was capable of more. "I can love just as passionately as any young vicompte," he thought as he combed his few locks of black hair into place. He reached for his mask, but as he was about to put it on he had an idea. He opened a drawer in which he kept various items used for repairing his clothing and took out a pair of sewing scissors. Smiling, he cut off just enough of the mask so that his mouth would show. "Now I can eat without looking like a fool or being dependent on Christine," he thought, "Oh, it felt lovely to have her feed me, but I know she will appreciate not having to do it again. No beautiful creature such as her should ever have to go through that twice." He placed the modified mask over his face and smiled at his reflection in the mirror. He then went to the kitchen and began cooking breakfast.
When Christine walked into the dining room, Erik had just finished setting the table. She was wearing a simple yellow dress with a flowery pattern, and Erik thought she looked to be the very essence of spring.
"You look lovely, Christine," he said, "A bit of sunshine in my darkened world." She smiled at him, and he felt his pulse quicken.
"Thank you," she said, "And I like what you've done with your mask." He smiled.
"As do I. It's better for singing, and more practical if we're going to be eating together," he said, pulling out her chair for her. She sat down, and he took the seat across from her. They ate in silence for a few moments, neither quite sure of what to say. Erik kept making furtive glances at Christine, and when at last she caught him he quickly looked down at his Crepes Suzette, causing Christine to let out a stifled giggle.
"Erik," she said through her laughter, "It's not a crime to look at me. This silence is quite overbearing. Let's talk." He looked at her, as if trying to think of something to say.
"What was your childhood like?" he said at last, proud that he had found something to discuss. A wistful look came over Christine's face.
"Well," she began, "I was born in a little market-town not very far from Upsala. My Papa was a wonderful violinist. I remember how he would always be invited to go and play at weddings and festivals. He taught me the scales before I learned my letters. I don't remember my Mama much, only that she was kind and very, very beautiful. She died when I was six, and Papa sold our house and took me away to Upsala where he hoped to make a living playing his violin. However, he made little money, so we returned to the countryside. We lived in poverty, wandering from fair to fair. He would play his violin and I would sing. Fortune smiled upon us once more one day at Ljimby Fair, when Professor Valerius happened to hear us. He said Papa was the greatest violinist in the world and that I would one day become a great singer. He provided for my musical education, and I advanced very quickly. When Professor Valerius and his wife moved to France they took Papa and me with them. Mama Valerius treated me as a daughter, and I loved her as the mother I never had. We were happy here at first, but Papa soon grew homesick. He never went outdoors, but stayed shut up in his room with his violin, singing along. It wasn't 'til that summer when we all went to stay at Perros-Guirec that Papa began to feel better. He would go down to the beach and play his violin, and the sea would stop its roaring to listen to his songs. Then, when all the villages were having their summer festivals, Papa and I went and provided music as in the old days back in Sweden, sleeping in barns and traveling from village to village. But unlike the old days we took no money, and had much better clothes to wear. One day, when I was singing, my scarf blew off and into the sea. It was very dear to me, you see, for it had been my mother's. Suddenly, a very well dressed little boy came up to me and said, 'Don't worry, I shall fetch it for you,' and ran into the water before anyone could stop him! He came back, soaked to the bone, with my scarf clutched firmly in his little hand. That's how I met Raoul, who was spending the summer with his aunt. We grew to be the best of friends that summer, and would go from door to door asking people to tell us stories. At the insistence of Raoul's aunt, Papa began teaching him to play the violin, and in the evenings he would tell us dark stories of the North. These stories were the best of all, and always in the stories there appeared the Angel of Music. Papa promised me that when he was in Heaven he would send that particular angel to me, and I believe he has, in a way." She looked at Erik.
"I know you aren't a real angel, Erik," she said, "But you needed me and I needed you, and perhaps God has brought us together for that reason." She smiled at him, and he timidly returned the gesture.
"Would you like a singing lesson this morning, my angel?" he asked with a grin. She laughed and nodded, and they made their way to the sitting room. Erik walked over to the piano and seated himself on the bench, and Christine stood at his side.
"Let's start with some scales" he said, placing his bony fingers delicately upon the ivory keys. She obeyed, and they spent two hours at the piano together. At last Erik said that that was enough for the day, and to his surprise Christine sat down beside him on the bench.
"Do you mind?" she asked.
"Not at all, my dear," he replied, and began to play a slow, gentle waltz. Christine listened for a few moments with her eyes closed, a look of rapture on her face. Then her eyes shot open and with a sudden gasp she grabbed hold of his arm.
"Erik, let's dance!" she exclaimed, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement.
"I, I don't know how," he stammered, his palms beginning to sweat.
"It's easy," Christine said, pulling him to his feet, "I'll show you!" She led him to the center of the room and took one of his trembling, skeletal hands in hers and guided the other to rest at her waist. She heard Erik let out a soft gasp and saw his golden eyes widen. She placed her free hand on his shoulder.
"Now we go like this," she said, beginning to dance, "One two three, one two three, one two three. Now you lead." "This seems simple enough," Erik thought, imitating her steps. He began to hum a waltz, and they danced around the room. Christine was smiling up at him, and seemed not to care how much his hands trembled or how many times he stepped on her toes, at once apologizing profusely only to do it again a few minutes later.
"You're a wonderful dancer," she said, once he had gotten the hang of keeping his feet to himself. He felt himself blush at the compliment and was once again thankful the mask covered his cheeks.
"Thank you, Christine," he said. They continued dancing for another half an hour. When the clock struck one, Erik slowed to a stop, but did not take his hands off of Christine.
"I suppose it's lunchtime," he said awkwardly.
"I suppose," said Christine, smiling at him dreamily.
"And I suppose we should let go now," he said.
"I suppose," she replied, but instead of letting go she slipped her arms around him and pulled him to her in a hug. Erik stood there awkwardly for a moment with his arms out to his sides, then slowly put them about Christine and let his chin rest on the top of her head.
The moment was interrupted by an alarm, causing Erik to curse.
"Damn that man!" he said, pulling out of Christine's arms.
"What man?" asked Christine, utterly confused as to what was going on.
"It's nice to see you too, Erik," said the Persian, walking into the room.