If You Will, I Will

Erik's door opened slowly, with no evidence of an opener. Christine stepped inside, looking around warily. The moment she was clear of the door's path, it swung shut. Erik was standing behind it – without his mask on. He'd apparently taken her request that he never wear the thing around her again very seriously, but he was taking no chances that anyone else should see him without it.

After hugging her thoroughly, Erik gestured behind him to the new sofa he'd had delivered that day. "Do you like it? I thought it might be nice for us to sit down together without sitting on the floor." His shy look confused her until she realized that he'd bought this exclusively for the two of them; Erik had no other visitors.

"It's gorgeous, Erik," she reassured him. "Let's give it a try, shall we? It doesn't look like you've so much as sat down on it the first time."

"No. And I thought the deliverymen would never leave. They insisted on carrying the damned thing in here themselves." His face and voice were fraught with nerves; she guessed the deliverymen had spent much of their time gawping at him.

Christine threw herself onto the couch and patted the seat next to her. "Come on...it's not going to bite you. It's really soft, too. This must be designer stuff." She bounced experimentally. "Definitely high quality."

Erik sat down beside her, pleased with his purchase. He was even more pleased when Christine snuggled up against him and leaned her head on his shoulder. She folded her feet underneath her and wrapped her arm casually around his. They were both wearing short sleeves – her soft skin pressed against his sweetly. It was such a little thing; most men would never have noticed. Erik was not most men. Soon we'll be living together, he thought, and this time it didn't seem nearly as improbable.

"So. I was thinking today about what you said." Christine ventured.

Erik looked down at her quizzically, so, she continued. "You know, the whole thing about how hiding has worked so well for you that you supported my decision to do the same?"

"Mmm-hmm." Recognizing thin ice when he stood on it, Erik made a non-committal reply.

"I'm not a stupid girl, Erik. I got your point, even before you completely destroyed my heart with the Adagio."

"I didn't mean to..."

"But you did; you knew precisely how I would take it...and that's fine." She lifted his hand and kissed it tenderly. "It just shows how well you know me. Well, I've been thinking about that, and about how much I've been performing recently, and I've decided that I might be willing to go back to the Conservatory."

"Really?" Erik turned to face her and grabbed her free hand.

"Really. But there are two conditions. Two completely immutable conditions."

"And they are...?" Erik was nervous. Clearly, this was going to involve him. He'd already made up his mind that he would stand with her through whatever might come, but he'd hoped to do his supporting from home.

"The first is that you have to go with me to Appleton."

"Appleton?"

"Appleton, Wisconsin. Home of the distinguished Lawrence Conservatory, and the place I will have to go if I am to complete my performance degree there."

Erik slid down on the couch. Wisconsin! That would mean planes and airports, rental cars, theaters, audiences...

"If you didn't like that one, you are really going to hate this one: you have to continue performing with me in the parks." She paused to let him take in the request. "I think we should do a floating rotation and play in a different park every week. It's so much fun, and it definitely gives me something to work towards. You know: motivation to practice."

"Christine, I hardly think this is fair..."

"Oh, I don't know." Her stomach tightened in sympathy with his discomfort, but she ignored it. She could no more give in to his fear than she could give in to her own. "You were the one who set the first conditions for certain actions in this relationship, as I recall. Turn about's fair play, and all that."

He just shook his head slowly, his face the picture of misery.

Christine wasn't ready to give up. For once, she felt positive that she knew the best course of action, and she was determined to follow it through. Now she had to convince him, if they were to move forward together, because she was not about to move forward alone.

"We're both terrified – we're both scarred. Neither of us will ever amount to anything without the other." She waited until he looked up to meet her eyes. "It seems that the world is intent on opening its doors for me, but I won't go through them without you. I'll serve coffee and sesame bagels for the rest of my days. I'm not trying to guilt you into this, Erik, I swear. I'm just telling you the truth. I'm a coward, but when you are with me, I'm not afraid of anything."

"That's beautiful Christine." She could barely hear him. "That's beautiful, and you've made me immeasurably happy." He looked anything but happy. "But have you considered that having me by your side could hold you back? I told you that freakishness is a communicable disease; have you thought that people might not give you a chance just because I'm with you?"

"They will. This article proves it. Play it right and that mask could become your trademark. Have you ever considered that? You can use that stupid thing to your advantage. People love a mystery. A tall, mysterious, masked man who can charm anyone with his perfect voice and flawless musicianship might draw people, not repulse them."

Erik stared at her. "Even if you were anything close to right, they would eventually want to see. And that can never happen."

"No." She slowly shook her head. "And that's where the mystery would come in. Unsolved mystery. But we aren't talking about that right now. You want me to go back to the conservatory. I want me to go back to the Conservatory. But I cannot possibly go without you. Same thing for the park. So please, just try."

"Of course, I'll do it, Christine." Erik's gaze was trained on the far wall. He couldn't look at her now; she might see too clearly the angry resignation in his eyes. "Don't you know yet that there's nothing I would not do for you? No matter what happens, no matter what it costs me; if you ask it of me, I'll do it."

He started to rise from the sofa, but was stopped by a new sensation. It was something he'd never felt before and something he'd never imagined he might feel. Her cool fingers rested lightly on his cheek - his bare cheek. She was moving slowly and carefully, trying her best not to hurt him. She straddled his lap, her palms cupping his ruined face, light as a breeze.

"Do you think it is any different for me? I'd lay down my cello and never look back, if it were you who asked." Christine leaned down and kissed him once on the lips, lightly. "You've never asked anything of me, except that I sing...but if you did, I'd do it in an instant."

"You're touching me." The deadpan remark was strangely incongruous to her passionate declaration of love.

"Am I hurting you?" She started to take her hands away, but he stopped her by taking her wrists gently in his hands.

"No... you're touching me. My face." He closed his eyes and his voice dropped to a whisper. "It doesn't hurt at all. It feels wonderful...but you're touching my face and you...don't mind. I could always see it before, in your eyes, that it bothered you. Even after you told me you loved me, I could see it."

Christine loosed her wrists from his encircling fingers and returned her hands to his face. Now that she knew she wasn't hurting him, the last of her discomfort fell away. It was just Erik, now, and this was just Erik's face. He was right; until this precise moment, it had bothered her. She ran her thumbs over his cheeks, which were wet. She kissed his forehead, cheeks, and eyes slowly, lovingly, and sincerely before arresting his eyes with hers.

"And now? What do you see now?"

"Peace." He reached up and wiped the tears she hadn't even been aware of from her face. "Look at us: crying together like a couple of old women watching a Hallmark commercial. Weren't we having an argument? Shouldn't we get back to that?"

"Never. Tomorrow I will call Lawrence. Just sit with me while I do that much – I can't really ask for more."

"You can, but you won't have to." He chuckled softly. "So. You think I could cut a mysterious figure?"

"Indubitably."

"Let's have dinner, and then I am going back to my bedroom and change." He kissed her firmly and shifted her off his lap. "I am going to create your mysterious masked companion and make you fall in love with the mask all over again."

They sat down to the dinner he'd prepared – a delicious spinach salad with blackened chicken. Christine couldn't stop staring at Erik. His eyes were sparkling, he was smiling to himself. She'd never seen him wolf down food quite so fast. He finished well ahead of her, jumped up and ran to his bedroom.

The man who emerged half an hour later bore no resemblance to the skulking, diffident man who'd hidden behind his mask and beneath his hood. Before her now stood a tall, confident, refined gentleman in a black tuxedo, complete with wing-tip shoes, black cummerbund, and a black fedora tilted jauntily over one eye. His hair was neatly combed back and gelled smooth. The mask seemed nothing more than an accessory. Christine's jaw dropped, and her face flushed deep crimson.

"My god, Erik...you're...you're..." she was unable to finish the sentence.

"I'm going to assume that's a positive reaction?" he asked, executing a quick turn to show her all angles. "When Nadir's son died, he asked me to sing at the funeral. He bought this outfit for me, minus the fedora. It's the only time I ever performed in public – until you."

"Tell me about Nadir. You've mentioned him before, but we never really discussed him."

Erik grinned. Nadir was an interesting topic. "You know he was my music teacher, and you know he is a dear family friend. I suppose you could say that he is a father, best friend, confidant and therapist all rolled into one."

"I wonder if he'd like me." Christine's brow wrinkled.

"He has been a lifeline – 'a light when all other lights have gone out'." Erik smiled. "I think you are insinuating that the two of you should meet, are you not?"

"Maybe," she said, clearly meaning 'yes.'

"He'd be pleased to see what a gentleman I've turned out to be."

Christine stood up and circled him slowly. "You certainly look the part, but can you act it in public?"

"If you are the lovely lady on my arm? I think I can find a way."

She nodded, fingering the lapel of his dress jacket. "I'd only detract from the overall effect, I think."

"Oh no, my dear. You will also need a costume. That black skirt will do for a start, but you need an elegant shirt – something fitted. And some jewelry. For your skin tone...pearls, I think." He touched her hair. "You don't have to be a model, Christine, just dignified."

Christine laughed nervously. "Erik, I don't have the money for all that."

"But I do." She started to protest, but his finger touched her lips. "You've done your part. Let me do mine, so that I don't feel like the lamprey to your shark." He winked at her mischievously. "Now, you were saying something about a rotating schedule?"

Christine sat down at the table. "Do you have paper handy?" Erik brought her paper and a pencil, and she began to make a list of the prettier parks around the Seattle area. "Interlaken is my favorite, but there are so many. I thought maybe four of these? One per week? Same time and same general location."

Erik's eyes fell on a particular detail. "I see you included Carkeek park. That's...we should definitely do that one."

"Bellevue is gorgeous. The reflecting pool would make a great staging area."

"And Alki Beach. Wow. That was easier than I thought." She rewrote those four park names at the bottom of the page. "Ok. Time? Bess will let me have one regular day off per week if I ask. Especially for this. And you...your schedule is pretty...flexible, right?"

"Very delicately put, my dear. Yes. Any day you like is fine with me." Erik stood directly behind her chair, his hands on her shoulders. "You seem to have an affinity for Saturdays."

"One o'clock?"

"Absolutely." Erik combed her hair with his fingers, noting how easily it smoothed under his touch. "Speaking of time, I believe you should get going. It's nearly nine o'clock. You and I have a phone call to make tomorrow."

Christine stood reluctantly. She folded the paper and put it in her pocket. "I don't want to go. It's a childish thing to say, but I really don't want to go home to my lonely, silent apartment."

"Ah, but your cello is there and so is your flute. Go home and practice my dear. Rest." As if arguing his own words, he took her in his arms and held her close.

"I will." She tilted her head up for a kiss and walked towards the door. In the doorway she paused and turned back. "Goodnight, Erik. You certainly do cut a very dashing figure in that outfit. But you were very wrong about one thing. I still hate the mask."