Eyelids shot open in an instant as Christine tried to catch her breath.

A nightmare.

She stared, disoriented in the blackness, up at the ceiling, her body lifeless and still with sleep paralysis. Her heart was hammering as she tried to hold onto the dream and decipher its meaning. The harder she tried to remember it, the more she forgot, like grasping at water leaking through her fingers.

She could remember how it made her feel: terrified, helpless-

Alone.

She swallowed the collecting saliva in her mouth as the feeling grew back into her limbs. She eased herself up on her elbows, taking in her scenery once again.

This was not her room at Mama Valerius's house.

Her lips smacked as she became more aware of her body, which surprisingly ached. Her parched throat was dry and scratchy and she reached over to her nightstand for a glass of water.

There was none to be found.

Her eyebrows knit in a sleepy daze as she attempted to collect her thoughts, but it came to her as easily as remembering her dream.

Her body, both simultaneously flushed yet cold and clammy, was uncomfortable under her down covers. She removed the heavy sheet, letting one leg dangle off the side of the bed to cool her off and remove the dampness. Her heart finally steadied to a slow drum as her eyes adjusted to the dark.

It was too dark; an unsettling, unnatural, all consuming darkness.

An icy drop of fear trickled down her heart into the pit of her stomach where it lay heavily. This artificial presence reminded her of her nightmare.

She gasped and jumped upright, the ever-present feeling of being watched clung to her back.

Of course, no one was there.

"I'm still dreaming," Christine muttered in a sleepy rasp to herself, but as she stood up and her feet ached with the pressure of her body weight, she knew that to be false.

All she needed was a drink of water and she would be able to go back to bed. A nice sip of cool water would ease her through and mind and she would slip soundly to sleep.

The soft pads of her feet shuffled along the carpeted floor, much softer than she realized. Mama Valerius must have brought in a maid to deep clean the rugs and the floors, she reasoned to herself.

With her hand on the doorknob, unease flooded her. Everything seemed off, not quite right. Like looking in a mirror image of everything, she could not place what was different. Her mind was in a fog as she tried to remember anything from the past few hours.

Only exhaustion and terror were her reminders.

She treaded lightly out of the security of the room, unable to see or make her way around easily. Her arms reached forward in the dark, blindly groping for what should be the hallway in Mama Valerius's apartment, but finding nothing instead. She turned and found light beaming from cracks beneath another closed door.

Christine approached the warm glow, but knocked something over that she could not sense. The something tumbled down with a loud crash, her voluminous curls nearly scared straight. She yelped at the sudden noise, only to be blinded by the door being thrust open. She squinted, shielding her eyes with her hand, trying to make out the figure.

"Mama-?" She whispered hoarsely, but alas, her surrogate mother was not to be found. Instead, a looming figure of a man stood before her, kneeling quickly, reaching for her elbow to pull her up, but stopping before actually touching her.

"Christine, you're awake?"

It was The Voice that spoke to her. The Voice that taught her. The Voice that comforted, consoled, and cajoled her.

In an instant, the memories of the past few days hit her like an incoming cabriolet. The Voice was no Angel, but a man named Erik who lied to her, betrayed her, and kidnapped her. And what she revealed his true self-

The horror of it all made her gap, but it sputtered to a cough. "-w-water," she managed as some explanation for leaving the bedside.

Erik straightened up and swiftly left her side to retrieve a cool glass of water. He knelt beside her once again, awkwardly handing her the cup.

Her movements still felt sluggish, but her eyes finally adjusted to the light. Mercifully, he was wearing his mask again, despite her telling him the contrary. She was grateful for that.

"You had another nightmare again, didn't you?" His voice was pleasant and gentle, not the roaring horror that boomed from his sinister face only days prior. She nodded, not wanting to speak lest she gave away her fear.

"Do you want some more laudanum, to help with the dreams?"

Laudanum. That would explain the haze - along with the bizarre dreams. What were they about again?

Christine shook her head, slowly, as so not to addle her muddled brain. "No thank you," she whispered, clinging to the water glass as she drank deeply.

Erik watched her silently, his movements short and jerky, leaning closer to her and then stopping. "Would Christine like assistance back to bed?"

She gave him a noncommittal grunt, something if she were more awake, she would admonish herself for being so unladylike. "What time is it?"

Silence was her answer as Erik considered the question. "Half past three," he finally said, unsure of her state of mind to tell her it was three in the afternoon. He decided it was best not to inform her of that side note.

Lifting her hand to his for him to take, she nodded. Erik gently held her fingers and palm as though they were made of crystal and helped lift her back to her feet. He could have easily carried her to the bed, his wiry strength hidden by his thin body, but he did not want to attempt that. Not like the last time.

He escorted her back to the Louis Philippe room, and helped her sit down on the bed once again. As Christine placed her cup on her bedside table, Erik busied himself by lighting one of the gas lamps near Christine. The match hissed and sparked with light before filling the lush and feminine room with a warm glow. He lowered the intensity to a faint glow before bringing the covers over Christine. Christine watched him silently as he did all of this, his mask never betraying his emotions.

At least they seemed calmer now, more focused.

Neither one knew what to say to the other, yet the silence was deafening. Christine drank once more, happy to occupy her hands and mouth.

Erik's hands were bunched into fists, one knocking lightly against the outside of his thigh. "... Erik has nightmares frequently, so he knows how to take care of Christine," he said bluntly. "He knows it's because of Erik, so Erik will treat Christine well and she will not have any nightmares anymore. He will treat Christine like he wishes to be treated and he-" Erik stopped as he watched Christine stare at him with a curious expression. He must have been doing it again, "-I will make your stay more comfortable."

Christine nodded. He wasn't making her scratch his face and screaming at her, so she'll take this awkward Erik any day.

Positive she was not going to say anything more to him, Erik turned on his heels to leave her be.

"Will you sing to me?"

The tiny request rang sweetly in Erik's ears and he immediately halted in disbelief.

"What?"

Christine curled her fingers together at the top of the comfortable shyly. "Your voice… I still like it... Would you sing to me to help me sleep? But nothing more than that," she said with a slight edge to her voice. She was not sure if she wanted to be so vulnerable around him yet, but this was a good stepping stone.

"Of course," Erik said breathlessly, yearning to bow before his diva and wanting to do anything in the world to make up for his past mistakes.

Christine allowed her body to finally relax into the bedding as Erik opened his mouth to release the soothing, dulcet tones.