So. For those who haven't read Kay's book, in the very end, during Raoul's epilogue, he mentions that Christine had a really difficult pregnancy. I decided to follow that, though not to quite that extent as I think the severity of her troubles had to do with her missing Erik so much. Thus, Christine has a very hard time with the baby.
Anyway; on with the story!
Leave the Past Behind
XxX
"Christine?" Erik called softly, standing in the doorway to Christine's room. "Are you ready?"
Erik had talked to her over the last week, and she'd agreed, eager to see another country, and find some new grand adventure.
Christine turned from where she'd been closing off her suitcase, and beamed, walking eagerly to Erik's side, and kissing him, leaning against him, so that he would hold her in his arms. He'd been doing that a lot, lately, and, needless to say, she loved it.
"Come, then, mon ange," he said quietly, leading Christine into the main room, where most of their things were packed into bags. They wouldn't be returning for at least a few months, if ever. All Erik's books, and his herbs and mixing tools were packed in separate cases. Ayesha sat, stiff, and on end in a carrier, making little nervous groaning noises.
Erik gathered one load of their things, and took Christine's arm, leading her up and out the Rue Scribe exit.
He had her wait in the carriage while he went back for the rest of their things, then climbed in with her, and they set off, first for the Rue de Rivoli, and Nadir, then for the others.
Nadir climbed into the carriage, Darius close behind, and Erik was quite glad that fate had been on his side when he flagged down that brogham. There weren't many as big as this one, and Erik didn't want to risk being seen by too many people.
Their next stop was Madame Giry's. Meg and Christine had managed to convince Antoinette that they should come along, and so the girl and her mother climbed in as well.
Raoul and Arilda were picked up last, and Erik found himself wondering why anyone had made a carriage this large, at the same time thanking fate and God that someone had.
Arilda was a pretty girl, with reddish-blond hair, and soft hazel eyes. She looked at Raoul with obvious affection, which made Christine feel warm and fuzzy. The look the young German gypsy gave Raoul was the same look she'd given Erik many times over the last ten weeks.
"England," she sighed. "Won't it be wonderful?"
Erik nodded, and kissed her. Everyone had their own thoughts of the country. They'd never been there before, and they had only a vague idea of what to expect from English visitors to the opera from time to time.
But Nadir was hardly worried. Erik had, as he'd taught him French years ago, taught him English, and things were slowly becoming that much easier. Christine, Meg, and Madame Giry already knew some, and Arilda insisted that she would pick it up with time.
The ride out of Paris was mostly silent, each person thinking of moments and memories in that grand city.
But that was the past. They were moving on, now.
For the most part, Christine stared out the window. It was a week's journey from Paris to Calais by carriage, then an over-night trip on a ferry to Dover, and from there, three more days to get to London. In all, it would take nearly a fortnight to get there, then another few days to get a home, and contact Dr. Lister. But Erik would not lose Christine.
-
They did not stop til nightfall. Erik was almost overly cautious with Christine, staying close at her side, and guiding her up to their room. The hotel they stopped at was the only one in the small town, and it was a miracle there were enough rooms for all of them (even without a ton of other visitors, the place was small).
Erik had Christine sit by the fire, and he pulled up a chair beside her.
"Are you feeling all right?" he asked gently, taking her hand, and kissing her fingers.
"I feel fine, Erik," Christine smiled. "Just a little tired."
Erik tensed, and his eyes filled with concern.
"Then to bed, Christine," he said worriedly. "It is late, love."
"If I go to bed, Erik," Christine bargained, "will you? You'll work yourself into another attack with all your worrying. I'll be all right, I promise. Come to bed with me?"
Erik nodded, and pulled her to her feet, leading her to the bed, and laying her down, before settling in beside her. He pulled the blankets up over them both, and held her in his arms.
"Good night, Christine," he whispered, kissing her softly. "Sleep."
"I love you Erik," Christine murmured, snuggling into his chest, and closing her eyes.
Erik smiled faintly, wishing they had never had to leave Paris. But it was for Christine's life. If something were wrong with the baby, or Christine's ability to carry it, it could mean her life if they did not get to someone who could help her.
In the next room, Meg, Antoinette, and Arilda were settling down as well.
"How long have you known Christine?" Arilda asked idly in a heavy German accent. She'd noticed Christine's kindness, despite her strange distance today, which could almost be attributed to exhaustion.
"We met when I was little," Meg replied. "Christine's father had recently died, and she came as an orphan to the opera house, and the Conservatoire."
"She'll be all right after this, won't she?"
"I hope," Madame Giry muttered, settling herself on one of the three beds. "Get some sleep, girls. We're leaving early in the morning."
"Good night, Maman," Meg said quietly, settling into the bed she and Arilda shared.
In the room he shared with Nadir, Raoul paced and muttered worriedly.
Sighing tiredly, Nadir sat up in his bed, abandoning his attempts to sleep for the moment, and looked to the young viscount.
"Go to sleep, monsieur," the daroga said. "I daresay it wouldn't help matters to have you ill come morning as well."
Raoul gave a frustrated groan and turned to face the Persian.
"That's just it, though," he exclaimed. "I can't sleep! Not knowing that Christine may be in true trouble with this baby. I know she is not mine, nor ever will be mine, but I will always love her."
Nadir looked at Raoul with sad eyes. The poor boy was taking Christine's condition as badly as Erik, if not worse.
"Go to sleep," he said again. "You'll feel better for it."
Raoul nodded defeatedly, and sank into the other bed, facing the window, and pulling the covers over his body.
God, protect Christine, he thought worriedly, praying that his childhood friend, the person he held dearest to his heart, would survive.
-
Erik held Christine's hair back with one hand, the other helping to support her as she retched into the toilet. He was shaking almost as badly as she was. Christine had never been sick for this long. Usually, once or twice was enough, but this was the fourth time in a minute that she had started heaving. Only, this time, nothing came up but a bit of blood-streaked bile.
When he was sure she was not going to vomit again, he pulled her into his arms, and held her.
"Are you all right, Christine?" he asked shakily, worried. Gently, he stroked her hair, holding her close against his chest, and ignoring the slight pressure he felt behind his ribcage.
Christine moaned, and shook her head against his shoulder, fighting tears. This time, the vomiting hurt her throat, and just swallowing was painful. She stood from Erik's embrace, and turned to the sink, pouring herself a glass of water.
"Christine?" Fear tinged Erik's quiet voice, and his heart filled with dread.
Christine turned, and flashed him a tired smile.
"Shall we get dressed?" she said quietly, reaching up to touch his unmasked face tenderly before stepping past him into the bedroom. She moved to pull on a corset, but Erik's hands on her wrists stopped her.
"You're pregnant, my darling love," he reminded her. "You shouldn't wear that. Not only could it hurt the baby, but with your...."
He couldn't say it. The words physically wouldn't form. They caught in his throat, slowly choking him. Then Christine's arms were around him, her head against his chest.
"Please don't worry so much, Erik," she whispered. "Many women have some trouble with their first child. There's no need to worry so."
"There is every need to worry about you!" Erik replied, shocked that she didn't seem to understand how much her death would crush him. "If anything happened to you...... God, Christine!" A sob broke free, and he clutched her close, breathing in the soft scent of her hair; flowers, and sunshine. "I would die without you..."
Christine pulled back enough to look up at him, and gently cup his face. He'd put his mask back on, and Christine wished he didn't have to wear it.
"I'll be fine, Erik," she said steadily, looking straight into his pale-gold eyes, her hand still on his cheek. "You'll see, my love. I'll be all right. I won't ever leave you." She leaned up to kiss him, and her arms went around his neck. Erik gave a quiet moan, and deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist, and lifting her slightly off the ground.
Christine smiled when Erik lifted her up, but then the dizziness came, and she whimpered.
"Erik," she gasped. "Erik, put me down, please!"
Confused by Christine's sudden change of attitude, Erik let her down, wondering just what was wrong.
"Christine?" he asked. Did I do something wrong?
Christine whimpered, and leaned against him, her knees buckling as she almost passed out. Erik grabbed her by the shoulders to steady her, then guided her to the edge of the bed, trembling, and wide-eyed with fear and worry.
"I knew this was the wrong idea," he whispered, starting to pull back the blankets. "You rest, I'll go tell the others that we are going home."
Christine touched his shoulder, causing him to turn back to face her.
"No, Erik," she said softly. "We have to go to London. Please? It would be better for our child to grow up away from the rumors and the stories. In London we can all start over."
Erik sighed, but relented, and after a moment, they were walking down the stairs, Erik close at Christine's side in case anything else happened, to meet the others.
As soon as they'd all eaten, they set out again, Erik leading Christine carefully by the arm - much to Christine's annoyance; she wasn't going to pass out just from walking from the inn to the brougham - to the carriage.
When everyone's things were entirely packed up, they started out again. Again, the carriage ride passed mostly in silence. They stopped for food - at Erik's pleading insistence - whenever Christine was hungry. It was sweet for those who knew him to see him so concerned for Christine. Nadir had to smile at the idea.
By mid-afternoon, rain began to pour down, beating against the carriage. It dampened their spirits, and turned the road to bumpy, rutted mud. Christine clutched Erik's hand the entire time, groaning when the brougham went over the worst of the bumps. Erik held her close, rubbing her back, and humming softly.
"Go to sleep, Christine," Erik suggested gently. "You'll feel better for it."
Christine looked up at him with hopeful puppy eyes.
"Will you sing?" she asked faintly, looking incredibly tired. Erik smiled fondly, and kissed her forehead.
"Of course, mon amour."
The quiet tenderness in his voice had Christine already on the verge of sleep, and she closed her eyes, leaning her head against his shoulder as she listened to him sing.
"Sleep on, gentle rose,
hear the nightingale's song.
In the garden where she grows,
for her the bird sings on.
Peace for, you sweet love,
I pray in gentle words.
Sleep with the stars above,
hear the song of the birds."
Erik's voice was soft, barely audible even in the quiet of the carriage. He muttered the words into Christine's hair, as he rubbed her back, and held her against his shoulder.
"Love is for us, my dear,
trust, love, in me.
Soon, you will see, my dear,
I love you endlessly.
Sleep for now, my love.
Let your mind find peace.
Dream, dream of snow white doves,
and please, love, think of me.
Night bird, loves you so.
Sleep safe within my wings.
I care much more than you know,
See what the morning brings."
"You're so good to her," Meg muttered absently after a moment.
"I love her," Erik whispered, careful to keep quiet and not wake Christine. She shifted in her sleep, stirring slightly, and snuggling closer to Erik's side. She mumbled his name, and smiled faintly. Erik turned, and softly kissed her head. "My Christine," he breathed into her hair, smiling himself.
Christine slept the rest of the way. By the time they reached the next town, and the inn they would stay at, the rain was, if possible, coming down harder than ever. Erik frowned, but gently shook Christine's shoulder, calling in a caring, tender voice.
"Wake up, my dear," he whispered. "We're stopping. Come, Christine, wake up."
A tiny bit of panic had entered his voice. Christine was usually very easy to wake.
"Christine?" he tried a little louder. This time, her eyes fluttered, and she frowned, slowly pulling out of sleep.
Christine smiled when she saw Erik.
"We're stopping for the night," he said softly. "Come on, darling."
Erik wrapped his cloak around her, and guided her quickly after the others into the inn. Despite his haste, they still both got soaked. Erik lead Christine straight up to their room, and proceeded to fuss over her for the next nearly half an hour.
He helped her dry off, and change into warm, dry nightgown, and sat her in a chair close to the fire, then draped a blanket around her shoulders. He left for a moment, and returned with two cups of hot chocolate. He pressed one into her hands, and pulled another chair up beside Christine's.
Christine looked at him worriedly, and reached out to touch his cheek. His skin was colder than usual and clammy, and his dark hair and clothes were still damp.
"You should change, as well, love," she said worriedly.
Erik shook his head, smiling, and leaning over to kiss her.
"I'll be fine," he assured her.
Over by the bed, Ayesha mewed in her cage, and Erik stood, walking to his pet, and taking her from the cage. He brought her back to sit by the fire with them, and held her close, stroking the cold fur.
"I'm sorry you couldn't ride with us inside the carriage, my darling," he cooed. "But Nadir doesn't like cats much." He kissed the little Siamese's head, and stroked under her chin.
"Poor thing must have been quite lonely," Christine mused, stroking Ayesha behind her ears.
Leaning against Erik's arm to reach Ayesha, Christine could feel the wetness of his shirt.
"You really ought to change, Erik," she worried, gently rubbing his arm. "You're soaked."
Erik smiled fondly and cupped her cheek.
"It's all right, Christine," he said again. "I'm fine. You just stay calm and under the blanket. Don't worry about me, my dear."
He kissed her softly, and pulled her, blanket and all, into his arms, and carried her to the bed.
"Get some sleep," he urged softly, stroking back her hair, and resting his hand against her face.
"You, too," Christine returned, taking his hand, and giving a gentle tug. "You'll fall sick if you don't take care. I don't want you to be sick."
Erik smiled at her concern. But if laying beside her would help ease her worry, he would do it for Christine.
He pulled away from Christine, and took off his shirt and shoes, then climbed into bed beside her, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest.
"Good night, mon ange," breathed into her hair. "I love you so, Christine."
"And I love you, Erik," Christine replied, kissing him softly.
Erik smiled, and closed his eyes, holding her tighter to him.
My sweet rose... My Christine...
-
Christine frowned as she sat next to Erik. The rain was still pouring down outside the carriage, and the road was a mess.
"I told you this would happen," Christine sighed.
Erik glared weakly, and coughed. Fortunately, it was only a little cold, and because they'd caught it so soon, Christine was sure he'd be himself again by the day after tomorrow.
Sighing, Christine ignored the rules of proper society - again - and pulled Erik down so that he was lying on the seat, his head in her lap. Tenderly, she stroked his hair back, and hummed a quiet song.
Erik cringed when the brougham went over a particularly large bump, and Christine cooed sympathetically, gently rubbing his chest through his shirt, hoping the tender contact, along with the loving, soft song, would put him to sleep.
After a while, Erik's eyes slid closed and his slightly wheezy breathing evened out.
He looks so weak, she thought, lying there, all wrapped in blankets, and my cloak. Oh, God, please don't let him be so weak through our whole marriage. God, let him recover...
"Don't worry, Christine," Nadir said softly, as though he'd read Christine's thoughts. "I've seen him pull through worse. Do you remember what I told you about the Persian poison? The amount was deadly, and yet, he survived. Have faith in him, Christine."
Christine nodded wordlessly, and continued to watch over Erik. She stroked his hair back from his warm forehead, and sighed.
-
By the next evening, Erik was better. He had gotten over the cold quickly, but spent the evening lying in bed with Christine, holding her close, and talking about what may come for them in the future.
"I'm sure we'll still find a priest before your time," Erik said softly, stretching slightly, and shifting to bring Christine closer to him.
"Either way, we'll be married," Christine replied, snuggling closer to Erik's chest. "I will be yours, Erik."
Erik laughed lightly, and kissed her cheek.
"My dear," he smiled in the dark, "I believe you already are."
Christine grinned and stroked his arm.
"Wonderful," she muttered, sleepy. Erik smirked at her tiredness, and kissed her again.
"Close your eyes, and sleep, mon ange," he breathed, resting his head against hers, and closing his own eyes. "I love you...."
XxX
That's that. I hope you all liked the chapter. More to come soon, I promise. Review, please!
