Dkk5: Thanks for the review. :D I will do my best to finish the story and post regularly-ish.

NotAGhost3: Mask awkwardness is awkward. Ah well… Thanks for reviewing it keeps me going :)

Glacifly4POTO: Christine was just tipsy drunk and then thought about her parents and got sad. Happiness is fleeting.

I wrote about 1200 words this chapter! *self-five* This chapter is so sappy (a lil bit of angst tho)

Christine woke with a pounding headache. The following night's saddened drinking had taken a toll on her. She drank for the number of people she had lost, she drank to forget, as if she'd wake up and her parents would be alive. Maybe even Raoul would be alive. But when she awoke, she remembered everything. She was on the forest floor, next to a strange man, with a face like a corpse and she felt the weight on her shoulders once more. Nothing was like she ever imagined it would be.

"Don't ever let me drink like that again," she groaned, putting her hands to her ears, trying to block out the noise that seemed so loud.

"I knew I shouldn't have gotten that alcohol…" Erik muttered.

Erik was busy picking up their supplies and readying the horse. "I know you have a headache, but we have to get going," he insisted.

"Okay. I'm up," she rose up and began folding the blankets carefully, "so how far away are we from the caravan?"

"A couple days of riding… Not too far."

-day later-

"Erik, your clothes are filthy and you stink," Christine gestured to the obviously dirt-caked clothes he wore, "There's a creek nearby where you can wash up." She said it as though it was final. Not an option.

He did agree though. His clothes were awful and he did smell. He quickly undressed by the creek that was out of Christine's innocent eyes. He submerged his clothes in the water, watching the dirt fading away. He could clean his clothes and the water could make them clean, but nothing could absolve him of his countless sins. He had wasted his life, murdering and torturing, for money and for pleasure. Watching the life drain out of their eyes was a sick satisfaction and feeling their last breath escape their lips. He scrubbed at a blood stain he found on his clothes, but it wouldn't come off. He would do better this life. Try not to kill or at least not as much. Maybe God had given him this new life to atone for his sins. He waded into the water, washing the dirt off his skin. He would do better, he resolved.

While Erik was washing up, Christine went foraging for berries. She carried a small bag and sang a simple folk tune as she worked. The beautiful music echoed through the wood, and right into Erik's ears.

Christine? It couldn't be… He thought. He put on his still-wet clothes and followed her voice, entranced. She sang about lovers, separated by the fates. It was a duet, but she had no partner. Erik could not resist joining in.

My God… He thought.

Their voices complemented each other, the notes dancing and swirling around. Erik followed her voice, the voice of a siren.

Christine heard the other voice join her in song. No one's in the forest, but me and Erik. It can't be. It has to be… She told herself. She rejoiced in the duet, abandoning the bag full of berries to follow his voice. Maybe this is why...No, Christine. Don't be silly. This is a mistake, a fluke. Her mind began to lose itself in song. Her thoughts slowed and her senses sharpened. She kept walking.

Finally the last chorus rang out in perfect harmony as they finally saw each other. Their eyes locked and the last note rang out into the still air. The music died and Christine dropped onto the ground in a faint.

You killed her. You killed her. The one person you have you killed her. You shatter everything you touch. He leaned over to check her breathing. She's alive, thank God. What did we create?

He picked her up and carried her bridal style back to camp. He laid her down on the pile of blanket, taking in her features in a new light. Creamy skin and a smathering of freckles across her face, her brunette curls framing her face in the sunlight.

Her eyes flickered open. Erik. me. Singing.

"What happened?" She asked, breathlessly.

"We created something."

After the day of singing, Erik and Christine sang often when they were riding and resting. One night by the firelight after a song, Christine said, "You sing like an angel." Erik looked at her in an intense way, "You're an angel." She blushed a deep crimson and turned away. He drew closer to her, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. His hair wasn't slicked back today, it falling forward, in front of his mask. She looked at his unmasked side and noted quietly that he would her been very handsome if not for the other side. "Erik?" She said, lazily.

"Yes, Christine?"

"How old are you?"

"How many years living? Or total years?"

"Total."

"I'm 36 or 37. Died too young…"

"How did you die?" She asked curiously.

"Gunshot wound." He looked nervous.

"Go on." She urged.

"I am not proud of what I did."

"I won't judge."

"I killed people, Christine."

"Erik-"

"No, Christine. Don't ask if I had a reason. I didn't- I don't. I mostly killed for money and sometimes for sport." He watched the horror fill her eyes but continued. She needed to hear it. He got a sick pleasure from watching her pain. "I enjoyed killing. But now I regret it. Christine I am trying…" He moved closer to her, but she moved away.

He's a murder, Christine. You can't. But he's my soulmate. She battled with herself.

"Erik, I need to think." She got up and started walking.

"Christine, please." He called after her.

Now you're going to lose her. You're going to lose her forever.

She kissed his lips ever so softly. "C'mon Erik." she coaxed, "Lemme see." She reached for his mask and wretched it off. Laughter like bells rang out. "Did you really think I could love you? Have you looked at yourself? I went to dig up my Raoul and I got stuck with a corpse." She spat out and sauntered away from him.

Erik awoke from his nightmare with a jolt.

"Erik, you awake?"

"Yes." He said, getting up.

"I believe what you said, about regretting what you did… " She walked over to him.

"Christine?" he said, distracted, "Will you sing with me?"

"Of course."

They began on a gentle love song and Erik offered his hand, which she took and they began to dance. His hand was cold in hers, but she didn't care. They bodies grew closer as they reached a soft crescendo in the song. She let go of his hand. Does she want to stop? He wondered, but his question was answered by Christine wrapping her arms around his neck. She laid down her head gently on his bony chest, still singing with him softly. She could hear his heartbeat increase. My God, she's going to be the death of me...What are you doing with your hands, idiot? He rested his hands on the small on her back, drawing her closer.

The last line rang out into the still air and Christine broke off first. She blushed madly, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"I'm gonna go water the supplies, I mean-fire, I mean- horse." She blushed even harder and ran off in embarrassment.