Second update in onw week! Oh, and Happy belated Thanksgiving! Consider this my thank-you to all my loyal readers and reviewers, followers and adding-to-favorites-ers. (I think I just created a new word!) Anyway, thank you all for your continued support!
I bet you are all dying to see how Christine and Erik's meeting will go. Well all I can say is, Christine is about to change her mind about a few things, one of them being her planned wedding, but see for yourselves! Ha, and while reading this chapter just keep in mind that Erik is taller than Christine!
And... I still don't own anything or anybody. Sad, I know, but what can I do?
Chapter 9 - Encounter
The next day, once Mme. Giry had left the house to go to that renovation-meeting she had to attend, Christine slowly and hesitantly climbed up the stairs to the attic. Her heart was beating rapidly, and the farther she went, the more nervous she got. Soon she would be face to face with her Angel, for the first time since that night. True, she had seen him in the meantime and listened to his conversations with Mme. Giry and Meg, but that was not the same. In these instances he had not been aware of her presence. He had not seen her since that night. And he had no idea she was here, under the same roof. What would he say – do – once he saw her? What should she say to him?
Meg had advised her to just tell him all that she had told her, about still wanting to be friends, about being sorry for having judged him about Buquet without ever hearing his side of the story, about being sorry for the harsh words and accusations she had flung at him the night of the fire, etc. That was easier said than done, though. How on earth could she explain all those things to him? How could she convince him that she did not mean all those hurtful things anymore that she had said to him that night?
Meg had smiled at her concerns and wished her luck. "I am sure you will find the right words," she had said, secretly praying that she was right and that there would be a new engagement to celebrate that night.
Christine finally reached the attic. The door to Erik's room was slightly ajar. Apparently Mme. Giry had left it that way when she had been up earlier to bring Erik his breakfast and to ask his advice on what she should say or ask about at the upcoming meeting. Christine stealthily approached the door and peeked into the room. Her Angel was up. He was fully dressed, though the clothes he was wearing were ill-fitting. They had once belonged to Mme. Giry's husband. Nobody had dared yet going back to Erik's lair to see if any of his personal belongings, such as clothes, had survived the ransacking by the mob, therefore Erik was currently using the late Monsieur Giry's wardrobe. He was standing, his back to her, facing the tiny window. She hesitantly reached for the door and pulled it fully open.
Xxxx
Erik had been checking the surroundings of the house. He had a way of looking out of the window without actually being seen from outside which made it possible for him to watch out for potential threats. Since his recovery he had become concerned about his own safety – as well as that of his new family, for if he was found with Antoinette and her daughter, they would be considered his accomplices. He was surprised that Antoinette's house was not under surveillance yet. After all, the Phantom had not been caught and she was suspected of being one of his associates. But apparently by siding with the Vicomte and showing him the way to his lair, she had cleared herself of that suspicion. Nevertheless, Erik thought one could not be too careful and therefore looked out for unusual activities around the house every now and then.
When he heard the door being pulled further open, he thought that maybe Antoinette was coming back. "Do you have any more questions, Antoinette?" he asked, turning around and gasped.
There, on the threshold, stood the last person he had expected to see. Her hands nervously playing with the sash around her waist, her wonderful dark brown eyes wide open staring at him, Christine stood there, facing him.
"Angel!" one single word escaped her rosy lips, and Erik thought he would melt at the sound of her beloved voice. Then he remembered that she was not his Christine anymore, the innocent girl he had been teaching and trying to force to love him.
Erik's features hardened, and his voice was as cold as ice, when he addressed her. "Mme. de Chagny," he spat at her. "To what do I owe the honor of your visit? Do you want to revel in the beast's broken heart?"
Christine trembled at this frosty welcome, sensing the barely contained anger within her former teacher. "Please, Angel," she begged, "not like that. We... we need to talk."
Erik eyed her up. Something was not quite right. Christine seemed pale, and the dress she wore was very simple. Was she not happy in her marriage? And why had the Vicomte not bought her new clothes appropriate for her new position? But whatever the reason for her appearance, that was her problem, and her own fault. He would not feel sorry for her, if by choosing the Vicomte she had made a mistake.
"I cannot imagine what we would have to talk about," he therefore replied coldly. "Go home to your husband," he added, "and warm his bed."
Christine winced. She thought she knew now why he was so angry with her. He thought that she and Raoul... She shuddered, then whispered, "I have no husband."
Erik stared at her. "No husband?" he asked, his anger rising even more. "Did the boy dump you before the wedding? Probably after he got from you what he wanted?"
Christine was too shocked at his insinuation to react. She only feebly shook her head. "No, he did not … dump me," she mumbled. "It was I that asked him to postpone the wedding..."
Erik seemed to calm down somewhat, when he heard that the Vicomte had not abandoned Christine. Then he realized what else she had said. "You postponed the wedding?" he asked sharply. "Why? Getting married to him as quickly as possible is the best way to insure your reputation will not suffer from what happened.. what I did..."
"I … I needed more time," Christine tried to explain. "And you... I … I had to see you again, discuss..."
"What is there to discuss?" Erik seethed. "You made your feelings for me very clear that night. You think my soul is distorted, I am a false friend, and remember, I am also a killer that will kill and kill again, or have you forgotten about that?" His voice was dripping with sarcasm now. "Why would you want to see a person like that again? What would you want to talk about? Go! Leave me alone!" he bellowed, turning away from her, facing the window again.
Christine swallowed hard. That was not going too well. How could she make him listen to her? If he did not listen, she could never make him understand how truly sorry she was about all the hurtful things she had said both, to him and about him, and that obviously still troubled him. Following an instinct, she approached him, hugging him from behind, leaning against his back, resting her head on his shoulder-blade, her arms encircling his waist.
"Angel, please listen to me," she begged, pulling him close to her, until his buttocks were touching her belly.
Erik stiffened as he felt Christine's soft shape melting against his bony frame. He could sense her head, her breasts against his back, and her arms around his waist, resting on his lower abdomen, so close to... as he felt his body react to Christine's nearness, he turned around furiously.
"Don't you tempt me like that, woman!" He hissed, with one arm pulling her flush with his body in a wise-like grip, his other hand cupping one of her delicious breasts, trying to feel the nipple through the fabric of her dress. "I let you go once, but if you continue to tease me I cannot guarantee for anything."
Christine was panting heavily. She was on fire. Her whole body was burning with a need for... something. She was not sure what exactly it was she wanted, needed, craved, but she knew it could only come from him, the man holding her like that, threatening her, his face mere inches away from hers. It didn't even register with her that he was not wearing his mask, she only saw his eyes, burning into hers with a passion, and his mouth, so close to hers. She felt his arm around her, pulling her close to him, his hand on her breast, and almost subconsciously she noticed something hard and stiff grinding against her belly. For a moment she thought Erik would kiss her, and she raised her lips to him invitingly.
Then all of a sudden, Erik released her, pushing her away almost brutally. "Go," he spat at her. "Go, before I embarrass myself even further or do something to you that you would really regret."
He turned away from her again, trying to hide the state of his arousal. "Go to your Vicomte," he yelled, "and don't you ever dare come back!"
Christine did not need him to repeat his words. She turned on her heels and ran, tears streaming down her face.
Once she was gone, Erik released a breath he had not been aware he had been holding. He had no idea how Christine could possibly have found him, and despite her words he could not imagine what she might have wanted from him. He only knew that he had come that close to kissing her, to devouring her with passion, and satiating his need for her in every possible way. He knew that if he had given in to his impulse of kissing her, there would have been no stopping. He would not have been able to contain his desire for her any longer and he would have ravaged her then and there. He was still tempted to run after her and do just that, his erection throbbing painfully against the confines of his trousers. He sighed in resignation before reaching down and providing himself release with his own hands.
Xxxx
Meg could not have been more surprised to see Christine storming into the parlor only a few minutes after she had left to talk to her Angel, her hair slightly in disorder, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Christine!" she exclaimed worriedly. "What is the matter? Did you not talk to him?"
"Oh Meg," Christine threw herself into her friend's embrace, sobbing into Meg's blouse. "He does not want me!"
Meg eyed her curiously. She had heard women talk about men in that way before, but normally when a girl complained that a man did not want her, she meant... and that could not possibly be what Christine had tried to tell her, or could it? But even if that was what she had meant, Meg was convinced she was wrong on that, for there was no doubt in her heart that the Phantom did want Christine, in every way a man could possibly want a woman.
"Tell me what happened," she encouraged Christine. "Did you not talk to him?"
"I tried," Christine sobbed, "but he was so angry. He called me Mme. de Chagny..."
Meg smiled. "Yes, we never told him that you are not married yet, but you could have informed him of the truth."
"I did," Christine continued, "and then he got even angrier and asked if Raoul had abandoned me. He used the word "dump". As if I were garbage. And he insinuated that Raoul and I... that he dumped me because he had gotten what he wanted..."
Meg groaned. That stupid man! Why couldn't he just wait and listen? Why did he have to jump to the worst possible assumptions? "You should have slapped him for thinking that of you," she stated calmly.
Christine gasped. She could never slap her Angel! Especially not, when she understood so well why he was angry, and when deep down she knew that all his anger was her fault and his conduct more than justified by her previous treatment of him.
"I told him that I had asked Raoul to postpone the wedding," she told Meg, "because I needed to see him first and talk to him..."
Meg nodded. "Well, that may not have been as effective as slapping him, but I guess it got his attention as well," she stated,
Christine shook her head. "No," she whispered miserably. "He said he had no idea what we could have to talk about, that he did not understand what I was doing here, since I had made my opinion of him quite clear that night, and then..." She blushed furiously, remembering how he had held her in his arm, their bodies pressed together, how she had wanted to moan in pleasure when his hand had cupped her breast, and how she had desperately hoped he would kiss her. No, she could not tell Meg about that. Meg would think that she was a shameless woman, enjoying such inappropriate nearness to a man, and then... how could she want to be kissed by a man – any man- when she was engaged with Raoul?
"He pushed me away," Christine continued, "and told me to leave him alone, to never come back..."
Meg looked up. "Pushed you away?" she echoed, her mind racing. Christine nodded feebly.
Meg grinned. Christine was obviously leaving out a huge part of what had happened between her and the former Phantom. For in order for him to push her away, they must have been standing very close. Christine's blushing also confirmed her suspicion that more had been going on between these two than Christine let on.
"So he did not let you explain your feelings to him?" Meg asked innocently.
Christine shook her head. "He chased me out," she repeated miserably. "And he does not want to see me ever again..."
"But you do want to see him again?" Meg probed further. "Or are you so mad at him now that you are through with him and don't care about rebuilding your friendship anymore? In that case you could easily set your wedding date with the Vicomte for next week!"
Christine shuddered. "Never!" she exclaimed. "I could never do that!"
Meg eyed her curiously. "Do what?" she asked, "set your wedding date or see Erik again?"
Christine paused. What exactly had she meant? She was hurt by her Angel's rejection, true. But never to see him again? That would probably kill her, but since he had told her to leave him alone, she could not imagine how she would ever dare face him again. On the other hand, setting her wedding date with Raoul was also out of the question. She had been reluctant before to take that final step with her childhood sweetheart, but how could she marry him now, after what had happened between her and Erik?
Christine was not entirely sure what exactly had happened between them, and why she had felt like on fire at her Angel's closeness, but she knew for certain that she had never felt like this before. Never before had she been so desperate for a man to kiss her. Sure, she and Raoul had kissed, often, and she had kind of enjoyed those kisses, but never, ever had she wanted – needed - his kiss as badly as she would have wanted her Angel's this morning. And she had been denied.
How could she go back to Raoul and his hugs and kisses after having got a taste of her Angel's all-encompassing love and passion for her? Compared to Erik's embrace, Raoul's hugs were insipid and meaningless. They had never made her wish for more, like Erik's hold on her had done.
"I would have wanted him to hold me like that for all eternity and never to let me go," Christine thought. With Raoul she had never felt that way. On the contrary, when Raoul pulled her too close, she had always been a bit wary. Not that she ever had feared him to act inappropriately, but with Raoul she had always been on the watch. After all, a girl only had one reputation to lose.
Meg waited patiently for Christine to sort out her thoughts and bring some clarity to her confused mind. "So what are you going to do now?" she finally asked softly. "You know that the Vicomte is expecting your answer today. He will want you to set a wedding date. Will you be able to do that? Have you resolved your issues with Monsieur Erik now, or decided that you don't want to resolve those anymore?"
Christine looked helplessly at her friend. "I do not think I have resolved anything," she confessed. "On the contrary. I need to make him understand more than ever, but I fear it may be too late. He is so hurt, that he does not want to listen. He cannot even stomach my presence. He does not want me to see him again."
Meg nodded. "But you do want to see him," she stated simply. "I guess that means the wedding is off?"
Christine looked down, embarrassed. "Yes," she whispered, "the wedding is off."
Meg breathed a sigh of relief. "At last!" she smiled. "At last you are realizing that you should not marry the Vicomte!"
Christine stared at her in confusion. "You think I should not marry Raoul, have been thinking so for a while?" she asked. "And you never told me? What made you think so? He is a good man, and I do care for him after all."
Meg grinned. "But you do not love him," she stated, and before Christine could say anything, she shushed her. "Don't deny it," Meg continued. "You and the Vicomte may have been childhood sweethearts, and you really like each other. Oh, I guess, he even is in love with you, or at least he thinks he is. But then, for a while you thought so, too, didn't you? It was only recently that you began to say you liked him instead that you loved him. Oh, I have no doubt that you love him," she continued laughing. "The way one loves a friend or brother, or maybe a cousin. The way Maman loves Monsieur Erik. But love the way you should love your future husband?" She shook her head. "No, Christine, you do not feel that kind of love for the Vicomte." And she meaningfully glanced up at the ceiling.
Christine gasped, as it dawned on her what Meg was implying. "Erik," she whispered. "You think I love Erik?"
