Tiochfaidh ár Lá
Disclaimer: Don't own POTO… This story is rated M for such subject matter not because it's really explicit.
A/N: Have a look at the following… they're by Ripper and I particularly like them.
Jonty: http/ www. deviantart. com/ view/ 30174307/
Jonty's Time: http/ www. deviantart. com/ view/ 30221449/
Please read and review…
Chapter 7: I Just Want You…
"Chrissie," Ros started, meaning to reprimand, walking into her niece's bedroom uninvited when she, her husband and children had gotten back to the house. Christine hated when people called her that, she absolutely loathed the false pet-name her aunt had coined for her when she'd been forced to move in with them. At first, she had been angry that anyone would dare call her that when her dear father had obviously named her Christine. But, after time and being subjected to it scores of times, she had learned to accept it, or, at least, to ignore it. "It was inconsiderate of you not to tell us where you were last night."
Sighing wretchedly, Christine did not move from her place sitting on the window seat, staring out at nothing.
"Are you listening to me?" Ros asked sharply when she did not receive the apologetic answer she was expecting from her mild niece.
But Christine was in a decidedly sour mood at present. She had just recently progressed from crying wretchedly, curled up in a little ball, to a desperate, dizzying fit of un-erupted anger. "To be honest, Ros, I'd really rather not have to, if you don't mind," she answered with uncharacteristic cheek, still not turning to face her.
"What did you say? You know I do not tolerate disobedience in my house. You cannot use what happened to get your own way."
"How can you say that? It happened two days ago – just two days ago – I was forced to fornicate like an animal with my own teacher in front of all of the people in the school. He has been the only one to care… and you are supposed to be my family. You haven't even said one kind word to me! Well, God forsake the bloody lot of you. I don't need any of you!"
And, moving swiftly from a state of intense anger to ill-thought-out defiance, she rashly pushed passed her aunt and ran down the stairs, carrying nothing with her but what she already had on her person at that precise instant in time, which left her with little choice in where to go. Thus, in the soft light of early morning, she found herself heading to the only place she could truly find refuge – to the only man who could begin the slow and difficult process of making her feel better.
That used to be her father's job alone – his right even – to be the only person in Christine Daaé's world who could make bad dreams disappear and her Aunt Ros seem like the type of person one could only ever meet in fairytales. So, it was with no small amount of guilt that she found herself bypassing him, his grave, and heading directly towards a very different man, whose extreme and unflinching compassion for her had already ensured that she would never hold anyone higher in her esteem. He was so kind – so patient… she just hoped her turning up at his door like this would not lead him to become tired of her. How she hoped he would not be annoyed that she'd come…
Her musings were interrupted, however, when she arrived at his house and, walking up the drive, noticed that there was something undeniably wrong with his door. She had not been able to tell precisely what it was that had caught her eye until she was about two feet away and could see the extent of the damage. It was ruined… obviously as a result of being forced open violently and, when she had regained her wits about her, she became terrified that something horrible had happened to her teacher.
Pushing the splintered door open hesitantly, scared to death that there was an intruder inside or some awful scene she was about to witness, she was urged on only by the stronger feeling inside her to find what had become of her dear teacher. She didn't know what she'd do if he were hurt…
She'd already had enough drama and suspense to last her several lifetimes over but she forced herself onwards for the sake of the man who, himself, had shown her no small amount of compassion in all of the time that she had known him. Creeping slowly passed the staircase, she was not yet beyond childishly crossing her fingers and hoping that she would find him alive and well, ready with a completely plausible and obvious explanation for what had happened to his door.
So, she almost jumped out of her skin when she felt somebody brush passed her and take hold of her upper arms from behind. And she yelped out of surprise, jumping backwards slightly in her shock until her head accidentally connected with her captor's jaw and he let go to nurse his injury.
"Christine," he started slowly, the pain in his jaw slowly receding, "I did not mean to startle you as I did. I was merely surprised to find you in my living room…" When she stared at him in something akin to extreme embarrassment, he tried to backtrack, hoping he had not just discouraged her from ever coming back. "No, that is not what I meant – I meant… what I mean is that I just hadn't expected you to be here so early. But you are welcome, of course, I was not lying when I told you that… you are always very welcome here."
"I'm sorry… the door… I…"
"Oh," he sighed, suddenly aware of the reason for her unannounced presence. He knew she was such a caring person that she would have wanted to help anyone in that situation – but it was so sweet a feeling to know that he was worthy enough of her compassion… at least, she thought so. And it made his heart sing… "You dear, sweet girl," he laughed, in a sudden good humour, moving closer to her, "I've never met anyone like you before."
"I'm sorry I just came in like that…" she apologised meekly, looking down at his feet while she tried to come up with a decent explanation to her presence. "It was very forward of me…"
"Don't be ridiculous, Christine – it was very kind-hearted of you… to care that much. But, do not worry about that now, my dear… tell me what has brought you back here."
"I did not mean to impose," she offered, her eyes betraying her insecurities.
"You are doing no such thing. Come, let us sit down, I'll make us some tea and you can tell me what has happened…"
So, ten minutes later, when he had her seated and supplied with fresh tea and biscuits, he warily sat down next to her and, building up all the courage that he could, he faked confidence in just being near her… something that always had his heart racing and stomach tied in knots. But she did not need to know that – it was better that she think him strong and therefore not worth wasting her worry on when she needed to take care of herself far more than she needed to take care of him. "I didn't mean to come here so early…"
"You have told me everything that you did not mean to do, Christine… can you tell me what you did mean to do?" he asked softly, trying not to make her close in upon herself by being too pushy.
"I… I had a fight with my aunt," she admitted, going no further.
"What was it about?"
"She told me I was being inconsiderate and I was angry at her for not caring… I just left. I did not think to take anything with me…"
"Has she thrown you out?" Erik asked fiercely, his temper decidedly flared. "By God, if she has, I'll–"
"No. I mean… I don't know exactly… but I don't think so. I'll go back later… when things have settled."
"I'll come with you," he offered, causing her to look at him strangely. "For support – and to bring you back here to stay if she is callous enough to turn you out, especially after what you have been through…"
"Why do people keep saying that? I have not been through any more than you have been through!" she said heatedly, in a sudden burst of annoyance at everyone but the person she was raising her voice to.
"I am sorry, my dear. But I do not think it compares… you were hurt more mentally and physically than I was. I may have been forced to… remove my mask – but it was you who had to look at me and it was you who had endure me. Besides, when we were… together, it did not hurt me… but, however much I wish it weren't the case, you were in a great deal of pain, I could tell. And I know that it hurt you that it was not your choice…"
"It was not your choice either!"
"No, but that's different…"
"How is that different?"
"Christine, I… care about you a great deal…"
"What does that mean?"
"I mean that it hurt me – hurts me – more knowing that you did not have a choice in the matter… You were raped, Christine," he said matter-of-factly, his voice beginning to strain. "And it breaks my heart that I was the one who forced myself upon you."
"No… you didn't," she comforted softly, her compassion bringing itself to the fore again. "It was not your fault. I was not raped by you, Erik," she smiled sadly, saying his name for him and placing her hand on his arm in comfort. "I can see that. You saved me from something much worse…"
"I still should not have done what I did…"
"You had no choice in the matter. You would never have done it otherwise… I realise that."
Little did she realise that what she had just said did not supply him with any comfort but that it was tearing him up inside as he became consumed with guilt. He could not help but feel incredibly awful at his deception – while she believed he was completely blameless in all of this, he knew the truth – that he had wanted her all along anyway. If she knew that, he did not believe she would be so forgiving. But she deserved so much better, he knew. And he was just so glad that she thought enough of his home and of himself to go to him when she was in need, that he was unwilling to jeopardise it by blurting out his feelings for her… their relationship, as yet, was so fragile that it had to be nurtured not blown apart before it had had any chance to develop. And he was determined that, if she were ever to find out about the way he felt for her, it would not be when she was hurting so badly and when she had nobody else to turn to. He would never allow her to feel that alone that she could not talk to him… He cared about her too much. It was really quite surprising to him still, how much he cared… how much he loved.
"So, what happened to your door?"
"It had an unfortunate run-in with a police battering ram…"
"What?"
"Ah, you have not heard then? Well, the police seemed to believe that I had abducted you from the hospital and, what with everything that's been going on, I have yet to get the door fixed."
"Did they arrest you?" she asked, more than a little shocked at this sudden revelation. He had done nothing wrong as far as she was concerned – why did nobody else share her opinion? Would they have rather he'd just let that man have his way with her? The thought alone sickened her.
"No… thanks very much to Jonty. He knew I would want to spend some time with you in order to sort everything out – so he went in my place. Which reminds me, my dear – when you are feeling ready, it would be a good idea for us to go down to the police station together and get our statements over with…"
"You mean I am going to have to go through it all again?" she asked despairingly, looking at him as though he could make it all go away with a few magic words.
"Oh, darling, surely you knew you would have to make a statement eventually…"
"I suppose… I just did not think of it. I thought it was over, and here I was wrong – it has only just begun."
"It'll be over soon," he promised, "And then we can start moving on properly. Do not worry… I will be there with you. In fact, I could get them to come here if you wanted… I am sure they will be as informal as you require, given the circumstances. We could get it over with today…"
"I suppose."
He placed his hand upon the distraught girl's hand, trying not to appear so unsure of himself around her, and clutched it gently to offer comfort, friendship, love. "There is nothing to be frightened of… I am here. And I'd do anything for you."
"Mr. Wilkes," greeted the more senior of the two police officers standing on Erik's front doorstep. "I'm DCI Cavanagh and this is my colleague, Sergeant Collins – she'll be your Family Liaison Officer. We understand that Miss Daaé is with you and that you both wish to make your statements…"
"Yes, please come in…" Standing back to allow them in, he watched as they passed by him into the entrance hall, and breathed a sorrowful sigh at the thought of the following ordeal. He would never wish for Christine to have to go through such a thing and he was certainly not going to let her go through it alone. And out of such concern, he pulled the two officers aside to relay his apprehensions. "Before we start, I am concerned that Christine has been under enough stress already and I do not wish to make it worse."
"Of course, of course… Miss Daaé will be treated with the utmost care, I assure you," DCI Cavanagh promised. "If she feels she needs to stop, we will respect that. Sergeant Collins is trained in dealing with victims of rape." If he noticed the change in Erik as he said that last word, he did not show it and the three of them stood silently for a moment, Erik absorbing the blow he had just been thrown before taking it on the chin and reassuring himself that he was happy to call what had happened between them anything if it helped Christine. He knew she was finding it hard to cope and it hadn't even been a couple of days since the incident.
Finally, Erik led them into his living room, where Christine stood nervously by the window, keeping the suite between herself and the two people who she knew would soon be intruding upon what had forcibly happened between herself and her dear teacher. He was her closest friend though he did not know it, if he ever would. She simply couldn't tell him. But she could take his comfort and, when this was over, she would do him the favour of giving him some space so that he could have at least one moment that did not revolve around her. How guilty she felt that she was not able to allow him his freedom from her – from the memory – when he sorely deserved it. "Family Liaison Officer?" she asked instead, clearly having heard their brief conversation.
"Yes, Christine," the female police officer replied softly, trying to win her trust as she slowly approached the frightened girl. "I'm here to make this as easy as possible for you… and Mr. Wilkes, of course. I'll be the person you can talk to if you need to get information to the investigation team and I'll help guide you through the criminal justice system when the time comes."
"Christine, my dear," Erik started, seeing that the policewoman's tact was clearly not working and deciding to try his own to soothe his angel. "Why don't you have a seat here next to me…" And he sat down upon the two-seater sofa behind him, patting the place next to himself in the hope that she would see he would be there to support her through all of this. Shortly, the police officers sat down across from them and opened their respective files upon the coffee table, beginning the process.
"First of all, on behalf of my colleagues, I would like to apologise for the mix-up yesterday and I assure you that there will be an independent investigation into the matter."
"Yes, well, let us skip the pleasantries, perhaps, for the sake of dignity and get right to the point. It is doing Christine no good for this to be drawn out so painfully." He placed his arm around her as she looked up at him innocently, more than a little scared, more than a little reliant upon his strength, and swept a hesitant hand across her cheek to reassure her. "Can we get started, please?"
"Of course… Christine, perhaps if we started with you and got it over with… Usually, we would require you and Mr. Wilkes give statements separately," he started, catching the terrified glint in her eyes as he continued, "but don't worry – we feel, under the circumstances, that an exception can be made. But, we are obliged to inform you that, as you are under eighteen, you are well within your rights to have a family member present… would you like that?"
"I just want Erik," she stated resolutely, though more than a little timid.
He looked down at her and smiled at her use of his first name, enveloping her smaller hand in his in his lap. "And I just want you," he said softly, reassuringly, truthfully.
© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, April 2006
