Aaaaaaand we're back! Due to popular demand, I've decided to continue this. Special thanks and a hugs from little Erik and Christine go to: Fleur du Feu, IamthePhantomoftheOpera, GivenCircumstances, and Suindara. Thanks for encouraging me to continue!

After dinner, Christine went over to the window and looked outside. The snow was still falling, blanketing Paris in white. She turned to look at Erik and Nadir.

"Snow is pretty," she said, then frowned, "But it hurts." She pointed to her feet, which were still red and blue with frostbite. Nadir gasped.

"Erik, go get some warm water in a bucket. Miss Christine, sit down on the couch, if you will. We have to be fast, or you may loose some of your toes," he said. Erik ran off, and returned a moment later with a bucket of warm water which was sloshing wildly due to the fact that he was running. He set it down on the floor in front of where little Christine sat on the couch. She had gone quite pale, and looked worried.

"Are my toes going to fall off?" she asked nervously as Erik began bathing her feet in the warm water, "Will I be able to walk without my toes? How will I sell my matches if I can't walk?"

"Calm down, Christine," Nadir said, taking her small, pale hand in his larger, darker one, "It doesn't look too bad. You may need to lie in bed for a few days." Christine's eyes widened and she shook her head.

"Oh, no monsieur, I can't do that!" she cried, "I have to sell my matches or else Papa won't be able to buy any food or magic bottles, and he'll get angry!"

"Magic bottles?" said Erik, looking up from Christine's dainty feet. She nodded vigorously.

"Papa loves his magic bottles," she said, "He let me have a sip once, but I didn't like it so I spit it out. He called me ungrateful and hit me with his belt until I fell asleep." Erik gaped.

"He hits you?" he said, tears forming in his eyes. He didn't understand it! A monster like him deserved to be beaten, but why would someone harm such a beautiful little girl? Christine shifted uncomfortably.

"Only when I'm bad," she said softly, "Or when I haven't sold enough matches. Or... when he drinks a lot of magic bottles. But I love him! He's my Papa and I love him!" Erik nodded.

"I loved my mother," he said solemnly, "But she hated me. She would hit me too. Then one day she told me she never wanted to see me again. So I ran away. I was captured by Gypsies who exploited me as a freak. Then Nadir found me, and bought my freedom. Now I live here."

"You can live here too, Christine," said Nadir, "There's plenty of room." Christine's face brightened, then darkened.

"But what about Papa?" she asked. Nadir frowned.

"I'll offer your father some money and a job at my factory," he said, "If you decide to live with us you'll still be able to visit him, but only if you want to."

"And we'll all live happily ever after!" cried Christine, clapping her hands enthusiastically, "Thank you Monsieur Nadir! Thank you Angel!"

"I'm not an angel," said Erik, "I already told you that." Christine fixed him with her blue eyed gaze.

"You are to me, Erik," she said. A tear ran down the mask, and Christine reached her arms out to Erik for a hug. He obliged, sitting down beside her on the couch and holding her in his arms. They sat there for a long time, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the occasional splashing of Christine's little feet in the bucket of water. Nadir cleared the table and went to attend to some papers. At length, Christine rested her head on Erik's shoulder and closed her eyes.

"Will you sing me a lullaby, Erik?" she murmured. As an answer, Erik began to sing.

"Dodo, l'enfant do, L'enfant dormira bien vite Dodo, l'enfant do L'enfant dormira bientôt.

Une poule blanche Est là dans la grange. Qui va faire un petit coco Pour l'enfant qui va fair' dodo.

Dodo, l'enfant do, L'enfant dormira bien vite Dodo, l'enfant do L'enfant dormira bientôt.

Tout le monde est sage Dans le voisinage Il est l'heure d'aller dormir Le sommeil va bientôt venir."

Soon, little Christine was fast asleep. Erik carried her up to the guest bedroom and tucked her in. "She's so pretty," he thought, gently tucking a lock of golden hair behind her ear, "Perhaps she'll be my friend. How odd that would be! Us, friends!" Behind the mask, he was smiling. He blew out the candle and went to the door.

"Good night, dear Christine," he whispered, and closed the door.