A/N: I know I should have mentioned this in the previous chapter, but pay attention to the colour scheme of Christine's bedroom. The dark chestnut brown, sage green, milky white, and soft rose are all descriptions I have used for her. Her room is a bit of an homage to her. I only mention it because I half-purposefully wrote it that way. I had envisioned it with these colours, but it was not until I started describing the drapes over the window that I realised it was all her colours. The library is more of Erik's personality colours with the dark red and black wood of the organ. Just a little bit of fun information. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Erik was standing in the kitchen, his right side to the door that lead off into the dining room, when he heard the faintest of noises behind him. Turning, he was struck dumb once again that night by the vision Christine presented. She had always looked stunning in light blue, but this richer colour made her milky complexion glow. The scent of her freshly washed skin threatened to consume him as the smell of roses danced elegantly about her. He had forgotten how breath-taking she could be. Or perhaps it was simply that she had never looked so lovely before. Nevertheless, he stood there, frozen in place by her beauty.

She smiled modestly as he stared, feeling a blush creep into her cheeks as she looked down. She felt oddly exposed when under his appraising eyes, now regretting her earlier benefit to being so thin and not requiring a corset. Taking a shaky breath she hoped he would not notice, she found the courage to look back up to him.

'Do you need any help with anything?' She asked, taking a step towards the counter that was mostly cleaned.

'No, actually, it's all ready.' He told her, snapping out of his spellbound trance. He gestured over to a small table with four simple chairs. 'I hope you don't mind the informality.' He told her as she made her way to it. He pulled out her chair for her, watching her eyes gleam in amusement at his gentlemanly insistence. He hovered for a moment before cautiously taking his place across from her.

Christine smiled at his awkwardness and turned to the tomato bisque and garlic bread stick laid out before her. She smiled at the French and Italian meal, knowing it would be best to take food slowly as she clearly was not used to eating much of substance.

'You'll have to forgive my limited cooking skills.' He apologised as if it were a standard response. 'I fear I'm only good at making stews and soups. When you were asleep I could only get liquids into you, so it did not matter too much.' He admitted, confirming her earlier assumption.

'It's fine. I used to rather enjoy cooking for my father. He taught me a few good Swedish recipes.' She smiled warmly at the memories of her and her father leaning over a pot and pretending to be world-renowned chefs.

She looked about the kitchen as she ate. The walls were a soft cream colour and the floor a white tile. The counters across from them stretched along the wall with a sink in the middle beneath a white curtained window, a small icebox to the right, and a stove on the left. The wall behind them, next to the door, had a tall cupboard for plates and drawers for utensils. The opposite side of the room had only a door, apparently leading outside, though the window proved it was rather late at night. A light hanging from the ceiling set the room with a gentle glow, making it feel homier.

Erik watched as she took in every bit of her surroundings. He revelled in her slight smile as she observed each detail.

'I suppose you'll want to know how you got here.' He told her, bringing her attentions back to him. She nodded resolutely. 'Where would you like me to start?' He asked, bracing for the tale he was about to tell.

'Why I'm not dead in Persia would be nice.' She offered. He laughed dryly at this, though pain still washed through his eyes.

'Well, to understand that, I think it best you know a little bit more about my past.' He told her, though seeing her troubled expression he decided to just plough on through and deal with the aftermath when the full tale was told. Taking a deep breath, he began.

'As you know, there is little love between my mother and me. When I was around eight or so, she found a doctor in town who was quite enamoured with her, but not so much with me. He wanted to send me off to an asylum so that he and my mother could be married happily. She almost complied, but I-Oh Christine, forgive your Erik for not being better,' he told her, hiding his face in his hands momentarily. 'I nearly drove her mad with one of my tricks. I threw my voice to make a figurine cry like an infant for her. I had no idea how consumed she would become, I was too happy to know I had control over her. You see where my thirst for power began. After many months of watching her give in to the illusion, I set her free. When Sasha died I had finally had enough and ran away, hoping that perhaps my mother would find a better life without me in it.

'I ran and ran until I found a gypsy camp. I foolishly thought that I would be able to sneak in and steal some food without being noticed. Were it not for my starved and desperate state, I may have been able to get away, but they caught me. Finding my face, they decided to put me before paying spectators in their travelling show. I was kept in a cage and brutally beaten. I was forced to reveal myself to the screams and horrors of viewers. Eventually, I was able to barter a bit of freedom by displaying my music and magical talents. I performed tricks every night.

'Despite being my captors and abusers, I came to wish to be a part of their little group. I wanted to belong somewhere. I started studying their ways, learning all of the little medicinal tricks they had procured from their years of travel. I found I was very good at it and even saved the woman who taught me. I did finally escape by killing the man who had captured and tortured me from the start. I stabbed him with his own knife and walked free. It was a state of calm I now realise is not natural, but at the time it felt like euphoria.' He caught himself wistfully remembering that night and the unafraid freedom he had felt. He did not dare look to see what he could only assume to be the horrified look on Christine's face.

'It was with my skills in medicine that I was able to make a cure for you, Christine. I saved your life and I have never felt so happy in all my life, though you were still asleep. Having you breathe again was unlike anything I could have ever hoped for. I waited patiently for you to wake up, but you remained asleep. Fearing what the Khanum might do if she found you, Nadir had you taken to his home to be looked after while we made preparations to escape.

'I had known that once the palace was finished the Shah would get back at me for all of the treasonous crimes I had carelessly committed –though I still don't regret a single one- and would most likely have me sentenced to death. The Shah made one mistake, however. He sent the wrong Daroga.

'Nadir helped me gather my…earnings and hide them away while he led me off to what the other guards thought was my inevitable end. Once we were far enough away from the palace, he released my bindings and we met up with one of his servants who delivered you back to me. Nadir took my cloak and mask to disguise a body to look like I had died. I have never been so grateful to one man in all of my life. I gave him some money and he promised to meet us here in Paris when he could.

'We travelled for a week, both on Cesar and then on a ship until we reached my beloved France. The day we landed, I bought this house and its furnishings and have been hoping for you to wake up ever since. I was growing afraid you would never return to me, Christine, but you have, and now…' He trailed off, seeing the conflicting emotions on her lovely face.

Well, Christine thought to herself. You said you would decide the now when the then was revealed. What are you going to choose?

Looking at Erik, his sorrowfully hopeful eyes reaching out to her, she knew her answer.

'Oh Erik,' she said, fighting back the tears which had inevitably risen during his tale. She took his hand in hers. 'Everything you've done for me,' she shook her head in disbelief. 'All you must have gone through to look after me.'

Rising, he came to kneel beside her chair. 'And I would do it all again, Christine. You have seen me like no one else has. You have accepted me beyond reason and…Oh, Christine, I am just so happy you are here.' He finally admitted, keeping strong and not bending forward into another fit of tears no matter how his body wished him to.

Gently she reached out and cupped his masked face in her gentle hand. 'So am I.'

They shared a moment, just smiling at each other and counting themselves beyond lucky to have the other there. At length, a low and resonant chime sounded from another room striking out the hour methodically and hauntingly. Christine thought it at once sad and beautiful, much like the man kneeling before her.

'Shall I help you clean the dishes?' She asked, wishing to change the subject for reasons she could not explain. She felt an odd tightness growing in her chest like a spring being wound tightly.

'If you wish.' He told her, rising and gathering the plates and bowls while she snaked her arms around his to grab the glasses. They worked together laughing over silly things as they effortlessly found their dance. It was as if they had been doing things together for years, though this was fairly foreign to both of them.

'I had a fun time trying to find this room.' She teased, bumping playfully into him as he waited for her to finish scrubbing a plate so he could dry it and put it away.

'Oh, I'm sorry. I should have come to help you, I wasn't thinking.' He immediately apologised, seeming to shrink in on himself a few inches.

'It's fine.' She laughed at his changeable moods. 'I rather liked getting to explore.' She handed him the last plate, everything else having already been washed.

'Well then, would you like a tour?' He offered, that amused light coming on in his dark eyes.

'That sounds wonderful.' She said, smiling sunnily as she took his arm. He seemed surprised by this motion, but did not seem to mind.

Leading the way from the kitchen, they went through the square dining room with its dark wooded table and chairs, slightly more ornate than the kitchen ones. The walls were of a similar deep red as the library upstairs and a small chandelier hung over the centre of the round and polished table. Going out through the open doorway, they proceeded into the hall with the stairs taking up part of the left wall. Straight ahead was the front door and to the right was a door and another open doorway down the hall. Going through the latter showed a lovely sitting room with soft blue wallpaper, a couch and two plush armchairs. Between the chairs stood a small table and a low cherry wood coffee table sat before the couch. On the wall opposite the doorway was a fireplace with a marble mantel. Erik explained his plan for a painting to go above it. A small liquor cabinet sat against the far right wall. Erik merely shrugged when she gave him a questioning look. Two windows looked out presumably at the street on the far left wall, as the subtle glow of streetlamps seeped warmly in through the cream curtains.

Heading over to the right wall, Erik paused at the door before opening it. It was his study. She had assumed as much, but the darkness of it only confirmed it. The dark wood which was prevalent throughout the house lined the walls in vertical panelling. A tall window, looking outside stood at the far wall. The left was lined with books, making Christine wonder if they would ever read through them all, and the right lined with drawers and empty shelves leaving space for the door that led into the hallway. In the middle of the room, slightly pushed towards the window stood a great ebony desk. Already it was coated in papers of architectural designs and loose drawings.

Christine slipped from his arm and made her way over to the desk, pulling her curls behind her ear as she leaned over to see the things he had drawn.

'I have decided to design houses. Most of the ones here are very standard and boring, though I like this one.' He assured, looking around it was a satisfied smile.

'They're wonderful, Erik. I'm sure Paris will greatly appreciate your talents.' She told him, smiling slyly.

'I should hope so. They'd be foolish not to.' He said it with a grin, but she knew he was being absolutely serious. She sighed, knowing that though he was right, it was a very arrogant thing to say.

'One day, I'll design my own home, provided I kind find the perfect location.' He told her, scrutinising one of his works. He missed the look of joy fall from Christine's face.

She slid off his desk, walking over to the door that lead to the hallway. She noted the contents of one of the drawers was screws, while another was bits of wire, and another still of springs. She smiled, remembering the toy he had made for Reza.

'I take it you already know the upstairs layout.' He assumed.

She did. A closet lay just in front of the stairs with an extra washroom beside it. His bedroom was beside hers, split only by their shared bathroom, and the library across from her door.

'It's a lovely house.' She said absently.

'I'm glad you like it.' He said, sensing something was slightly off in her tone.

'Erik, you've done so much for me, and I don't know how I'm ever going to repay you for it.' She told him, growing more distressed by the second.

'Christine,' he was at her side in an instant. 'Christine, no. I did it all for you. There is nothing to repay.' He assured her, tentatively reaching around to hold her, but not finding himself brave enough in the face of her needless concern.

'I could get a job to help pay rent, I-'

'There is no rent. I bought the house outright. It's paid for.' He told her, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. 'My time in Persia made me a very, very wealthy man. Besides, I bought it for you. It's yours, all of it. The house is yours.' He assured her in what he thought to be a comforting way, but when she looked up at him, all he saw was panic and fear. Before he knew it, she had rushed from the room in a fit of tears and sobs. He stood there in a daze as he heard her door close upstairs.

Christine threw herself on her bed like a child. She hated that. She hated that she did not know how to be an adult. She hated that she had let her fantasies run wild down there with him. She had assumed he would stay with her. She assumed that maybe he…No! Of course he did not! She was just a friend…a project for him. She was nothing more than a challenge. He had to find a way to keep her alive; that was the game. But he had cried for her, twice. He had begged God to bring her back to him. But he had said he would build himself a house as soon as he found a good spot, and then she would be on her own. On her own in a house he had bought and furnished for her.

She despised how selfish she was to want more from him. He had already done far more than any man should ever have to. But he had said he did it all for her, as if it were some sort of gift.

Her mind swam with her thoughts and her heart bled from too many emotions. She knew what she had felt back in Persia, but Erik's feelings…those were buried deeper than she knew how to go. If she could find a way of getting to them, then maybe things would be better. There were a few times when she thought she might have seen more than he realised he had shown, but she could not be sure. She missed Nadir, though she knew he would not have made it easier by telling her anything decisive.

She knew that if Erik truly did intend to leave eventually, then she would have nothing to stop him with. She had made that promise long ago, and she intended to keep it. She would simply have to find out what it was he wanted and live with that decision.

Rolling over onto her back, she stared up at her ceiling, wondering over what she should do to get him to confess something like that.

She had not realised how many hours had passed until the dull yet melodic sound of the ebony clock downstairs sounded out the daunting hour of midnight. She had vaguely noticed the tall, lean timepiece in Erik's study beside the window earlier. Something about its tone made everything seem still and silent. But not long after it had finished its chime, all life was returned to the house.

Slinking out of bed, having changed into a nightgown and attempted sleep. She once more pulled on her dressing gown, enjoying the coolness of the hardwood floor beneath her bare feet. It gave her resolve, which she needed as she went out into the hall and stood before the library door.

Melancholy notes drifted ever powerfully from the organ as Erik dripped his heart and soul into ever measure of his song. Opening the door carefully, she slipped into the room noiselessly, listening to the beautiful music he created. She had heard his singing, but never his playing of any instrument. Just like his voice, he held and commanded full mastery over the listener's senses. He wove tales of heartbreak and sorrow so poetically that it felt like a dream. Such hardships were made elegant through his skilled fingers upon the ivory keys.

Once finished, hunching over his instrument much like he had earlier, Christine found she could not hold in her praise.

'That was lovely.' She said softly and quietly.

Erik, yet again, had failed to notice her arrival in the room until she spoke. He almost turned around, but his mask-less face stopped him. He had thrown the disguise over into one of the wingbacks when he had come in. Finding himself trapped now, he tried to think a way out of his bind.

'I'm glad you liked it.' He said, not daring to turn too far over his shoulder.

He herd her hum happily as she walked over to the chairs. His heart dropped when he watched her reflection in the organ as she picked up his discarded mask. She turned it over a few times in her hands, examining it with that subtle smile that hid what she was thinking.

'Does it ever get uncomfortable?' She asked, catching him off guard.

'What?'

'Your mask, does it ever get uncomfortable?' She pressed.

Erik paused. He had never been asked that in all his life. Mostly people were just glad if he was wearing it and avoided him when he was not. No one had ever asked his preference on the article.

'Sometimes. It's hard to sleep in, and the heat can make it a bit stifling.' He answered.

She hummed thoughtfully. 'Persia must have been terrible for you.' She deduced, still not looking away from the moulded white leather.

'Not entirely.' He said, daring a slight glance at her over his shoulder. He turned back quickly when he caught her eye. He knew his meaning had taken hold by her glance, but her earlier distress still rang through him.

'Erik,'

'Hmm?'

'Do-do you remember y-you asked me once what I saw in you, and I-I told you?' She asked, clearly nervous about the point she was about to make.

'Yes.' He could not help the smile at the memory of all the wonderful things she had said.

'Well, I was wondering,' she took an uncertain breath. 'What you see in me. If anything.' She ducked her head at the last.

Erik turned to look at her now. Her eyes were downcast and her brow knitted with a growing despair. All thought rushed from his head as he saw a tear fall to the thick rug that covered that part of the floor. He rose, coming over to her and turning her round to face him. Without hesitation, he brought his fingers beneath her chin and gently guided it up so as to look her in the eye.

'Christine, you are the most amazing woman I have ever met. You are kind and compassionate to even the most horrid of creatures. You find even the tiniest glimmer of light in someone and make it burn brighter. You bring out the best in everyone around you through your smiles and childlike charm. You are beauty itself.' He paused, letting those last words sink in. He held her rapt as he cupped her face in his hands.

'Christine, I love you.' He half-sang, half-wept.

Somehow he had not seen her hands rise up and come to his face. That is, until he felt their pull.

Just moments before their lips could touch, she uttered the most beautiful words he had never even dared to dream about.

'I love you, Erik.'

He felt all of his air come crashing out of him as he heard this, only to feel all of their meaning as their lips met. He felt every nerve in him come alive as his eyes widened larger than he knew they could. He felt like time had frozen around him, but could not bear to let it pass. Every bit of this moment was like Heaven.

Finally, they parted as both of them felt their lungs begin to burn. Bending forward a bit, Erik kept his dainty hold on her face as he directed his face to the floor. He felt a great pain in his chest, but so much joy spreading out along him. He felt unnecessary tears spring to his eyes as he gasped in silent sobs.

'Erik?' She asked, trying to seek out his eyes. 'Are you alright?' A bit of fear crept in here and he instantly looked up to her.

'Oh Christine,' he said, his face softening at her concern over him. 'I never thought anyone could ever…but you said…'

'I love you.' She told him again, hoping it would make him better. It seemed to as he smiled at her, still shaking a bit.

'No one has ever said that to me.' He said, just above a whisper. 'No one has ever held me as you do, no one has ever looked upon my face without fear, and-' He stopped realising his mask was now placed on the coffee table beside him. He looked at it as if it were completely alien to him. He reached out for it, but Christine's gentle fingers turned his cheek to look at her.

'I told you once, you don't have to hide. I love you, Erik.' She repeated, looking at him with the gentlest of smiles.

'My face doesn't scare you?' He asked, still not believing this to be real.

'No, and I'm sorry it ever did.' She practically wept as she came forward to embrace him.

Erik felt like the luckiest man in the world as he held his Christine to him. His Christine. She loved him. She had kissed him. Him! The monster all men feared. Yet, his little angel had come to love him.

'Erik?'

'Yes, my love?' He asked in his softest tone, relishing the name for her.

'Say you won't disappear.' She begged, looking up at him with quickly brimming eyes.

'What? Why on earth would I disappear?' He took his hand to run down her face, wiping away a few stray tears.

'I promised not to possess you, but I…I just can't lose you, Erik!' She nearly broke down, but he picked her up, going over to the chaise lounge and sitting down to hold her.

He sat there, loving every ounce of this woman. Only Christine could still be holding onto a promise like that after everything. And only he would be foolish enough to forget and think she would too. Of course she feared he would leave. He was like a cat. Cat's always come and go as they please. But he was different now. He would be different. He would stay with her until the end of time. He had finally found a reason to remain tethered. He was not being forced to; he was choosing to.

'Christine, I love you more than words could ever express. You are everything to me. Without you, I would die.' He admitted, knowing the grim words to be true. And even if he did not die, he would never truly be alive without her. 'You are the sun and moon to me, Christine, and I swear that I will remain by your side for as long as you wish. I will love you forever, Christine. Even if you find someone else, I will let you go, but I will still love you.'

She looked at him through tear filled eyes. 'I will always love you, too.' She told him, brushing her fingers over his cheek. He leaned into them, closing his eyes to his own tears and the overwhelming joy her touch brought. Taking her hand, he turned her palm over and kissed it, letting his thumb rub over her knuckles. As always, he kept his touch light for fear of breaking her. She was like a delicate flower in his hand.

Snuggling her head into his chest, she spread her legs out as she laid on top of him. She could hear his heartbeat quicken as her legs coiled in with his. He did not move, but reclined on the lounge with her happily stretched along him. Eventually, his hands relaxed and smoothed her curls, tangling throughout their soft, brown spirals. He did place a hand at the dip of her waist, brushing the now sharp rise of her hip bone, but quickly removed it, going instead to rest over her furled arms and shoulder.

He never once complained that she was in an uncomfortable position, or was too heavy, or that he wished to move. He simply let her softly drift off to a light, airily dream filled sleep. He revelled in the softness of her breathing, the little smiles that would dance across her soft pink lips, and the way her fingers would occasionally shift as if proving happily that he was still there.

He would have given the whole world to never have this moment disturbed. He would have given oceans and seas and mountain peaks to keep her here with him for all time. He would have crawled through Hell on hands and knees if it meant she would stay. Yet all of this was proved useless as it always was. She had said she loved him. He would have given anything to hear that from her, but she gave it to him freely. She gave her heart and affections to him freely and thought nothing of it. It was perfectly natural for him to have them, even though he knew himself to be nothing short of an atrocity to mankind. She had never seen him that way, though. Even when he had scared her, she had always been so because she could not immediately see her Erik. Her Erik. Yes, for her he would be anything in the world, but that would always be his favourite form. Hers. She had laid claim to his heart long ago, but now…now he had avowed himself to it forever.

Brushing one stray lock of her silken hair from her neck, he looked at her with a new weight laying upon him. A new thought occurred to him. A new action needing to be set forth. It would take some doing, but he already knew he would do it regardless. For her, anything.

A/N: A big thank you to chriw, Assduck, Tigerlillys, and Lucyole for favoriting/following this story. I appreciate each and every one of you who had helped give my courage to continue writing and have so generously showered me with your lovely reviews. I couldn't do it without you all!