On the Wind, Cross the Sea
XxX
The rest of the week was quiet, and calm. Erik got over his cold within a day, and by the next evening, the rain departed entirely, and the sun shown down on their carriage through a rain-washed sky with a few, wispy clouds.
Christine sighed as she leaned against Erik's shoulder. She was incredibly chipper for some reason - Erik was inclined to think it was the hormones - and she was humming softly.
"We'll be in Calais soon," Raoul said off-handedly.
Erik gave a quiet 'hmmph,' nodded, and returned his attention Christine. He would never say in out loud, but he was quite scared for her. In the last couple of days, the fainting spells she'd started having two weeks before they set out had returned, and picked up intensity. Oh, not by very much, but Erik, ever vigilant, and protective, had picked up on it in an instant.
"I vwonder vwhat London vwill be like," Arilda sighed. "I've never been there before."
Christine smiled at the other girl. "Neither have I," she replied excitedly. "Oh, I can't wait!" Turning to Erik, she clutched his arm eagerly. "We'll have to see the palace, of course, and Hampton Court, we'll go to Hyde park, and Erik, wouldn't you like to see St. Paul's Cathedral? Papa once went to London. I'm told he went for his honeymoon with my mother. He told me all about it! Won't it be great?!"
Erik had to smile at her excitement, but this was hardly a vacation. Everyone, depending on how long they'd known the girl, was concerned. This was for her health, and that of the unborn baby.
"After the child, perhaps," Erik whispered, cupping her cheek, then kissing her hand. "You must take it easy until the baby's birth, my dear. I don't want to see you hurt. And certainly, it would be heartbreaking if you lost the baby."
Christine's mood seemed to swing completely around, and her eyes shown with unshed, frightened tears as her face darkened with concern.
"You're talking so strangely," she whispered, brushing her fingers over the mask. "What do you mean? Erik, you're not..... you can't......" Die.
Erik hushed her with a soft kiss, and wrapped his arms around her.
"I'm perfectly all right, my dearest Christine," he assured quietly. "I'm fine. I only meant that I would not wish you to lose our child, my love. You know I would be hurt, too. I apologize if I frightened you, mon amour. Please, don't put any meaning behind my words. I really am fine."
Christine's mood shifted again, and she smirked slyly, then moved his mask just enough to kiss his lips without the porcelain getting in the way.
Arilda watched the intimate moment and frowned slightly. She had been good so far, but she was really beginning to get curious about the mask Erik was always wearing. It covered the majority of his face, leaving only the lower lip, and part of his left cheek exposed. She wondered what he was hiding.
"We're entering Calais, masters," the driver called down.
Christine perked up at once, and stared excitedly out the window. Erik rolled his eyes, smiling fondly. It was just another village, but, of course, because it was so close to England, in Christine's mind, she was ecstatic.
"Two days and we'll be in England," she breathed, eyes shimmering. Erik wrapped an arm around her, and held her as he gently kissed her head.
"I love you," he murmured into her hair.
The truth was, he'd been extremely worried the entire trip. His stomach had been in knots since she'd first fainted back in the house below the opera, and more often than not, he had felt his heart race with concern and fear the past week and a half. If he lost her now, after everything they'd been through.....
Don't think like that, Erik. You'll get upset, and you know how that bothers Christine, the poor thing.
Erik sighed and gently rubbed her arm.
"How are you feeling?" he asked softly. That morning, she'd passed out cold just getting out of bed. It scared Erik to no end. He really didn't think he could handle - let alone survive - losing her a second time....
Erik stop! his mind screamed. Quit thinking like this! You know it'll only lead to trouble.
But that was the problem. He couldn't stop thinking and worrying about Christine, and his mind, in his concern, continuously roamed toward the 'what if's, that haunted him when Christine was asleep, or in silent moments in the brougham. She was all he had. All he'd ever have, save for the baby to come.
It won't survive if she dies any time soon, a voice scoffed in his brain.
Don't say that! Don't dwell on 'maybe', or 'what if'. Christine will be fine. She'll survive, so will the baby, and so will you. You'll be a family. You'll finally have a family all your own. A wife to love, a child to teach and care for. You'll be happy if you stop worrying yourself to death over her. She's stronger than she looks, and you know it.
"Erik?"
Erik blinked at the sudden sound of Nadir's voice cutting through the silence. He looked at his old friend, keenly aware of everyone's eyes on him.
"Erik, my friend, are you well?"
Erik waved away the Persian's concern, though there was a note of gratitude in his voice when he spoke.
"I am perfectly fine, daroga," Erik replied. "Just lost in thought, I suppose."
"What were you thinking about, my love?" Christine asked, and when Erik turned to look at her, he saw her eyes were wet, tears ready to fall if anything were wrong.
To reassure her, Erik kissed her cheek, gently cupping her face in his skeletal hands.
"About the future," he whispered, smiling slightly. "Our future."
Oh, sure. Lie right through your teeth. You were worrying about her death, fool.
I'm not going to anymore. She'll live. I know she will.
Christine gasped suddenly, one hand going to her stomach. Erik's eyes flew wide, and he looked at her in terrified concern.
"Christine? What is it? Are you all right? You're not...?"
Christine turned to look at him, a slightly bemused expression on her face.
"The baby kicked," she muttered. "The baby kicked me."
Erik's eyes widened more, if possible, and he reached out to touch Christine where her hand rested on the roundness of her stomach. After a moment, he felt a bump against his hand, very slight, but unmistakable.
"Christine....." he breathed, amazed. Christine squealed, and threw her arms around Erik's neck.
"It kicked! She kicked! Our baby kicked!"
Nadir laughed brightly, happy for his friend. Arilda and Meg shared excited looks, and giggles. Madame Giry smiled nostalgically, and Raoul did his best to not feel jealous.
I wish it could have been me. And yet, for some strange reason, it matters not when Arilda is there. How very odd.
The carriage pulled to a stop in front of the inn, and they unloaded and went to get their rooms.
The ferry to Dover would leave tomorrow afternoon. Erik had made arrangements before they'd left, and now, all that was left was to pay when they boarded.
Erik smiled, and drew Christine up the stairs to their room. He had a plan to celebrate the development in her pregnancy. It seemed to him incredibly significant that the baby had begun kicking.
Gently, Erik lifted her into his arms when they reached the top of the stairs. Any fear, or concern had been drowned by his amazement that he and Christine had a baby, a baby which, in five months, he would hold in his arms. The realization that this was not somehow just a dream had finally hit, and he had a mind to show her just how glad he was.
The baby's kick had stirred a primitive, paternal, loving in his heart that extended not only to the unborn baby, but to its mother. Christine was strong to be able to support another life inside her. He wanted her to know how much he loved her.
He lay her on the bed, and the look in his eyes gave her the idea. She knew, just by looking at him, what he wanted, and she smirked.
Sitting up, she wriggled out of her dress, corset, and chemise, and lay back on the bed, grinning at Erik.
When he joined her in the bed, she pulled him close, stroking his hair, and whimpering when he gently kissed her shoulder.
"I love you," he whispered, tenderly running his hands down her sides. "I will always love you. Only you."
"Erik..." Christine breathed, gently cupping his face.
She gasped, and sighed, smiling as she closed her eyes. She hadn't felt like this since that first night she'd returned to him, when he'd been so near to death. He'd come a long way these last four months, both in health, and personality. He was becoming more and more open, and docile. She'd noticed that little things which used to truly set him off hardly effected more than an annoyed groan anymore.
Gently, Christine stroked her hands over his back. Everywhere she touched she could feel scars crossing the thin, pale flesh. And she could feel just how slight and thin his body really was; skeletal, almost, and yet, he was incredibly strong for such a frail-seeming build.
Her eyes squished shut as he shifted, and she arched up into his movements. They were together, soon to be husband and wife, legally, as well as before God.
Erik pressed his lips to hers, and Christine smiled into the kiss. She loved him more than anything. In that moment, there was nothing in the world but the two of them. Just her, and Erik; her powerful, sensual, sensational, dark angel; her nightingale, and her, the shrinking little violet who had at last found the courage of the white rose to love him.
Eventually, strength spent, they lay side by side, breathing hard. Though he would never admit it, Erik could feel his heart racing, and it brought with it a degree of pain. But now that he was calming down, it was slowly fading. He only hoped Christine did not notice the raggedness of his breathing, which was oddly difficult.
"Erik? Are you all right?"
Damn.
Erik nodded, letting out a squawk that was half breath, half cough. Christine was sitting up, one hand on his shoulder, the other holding the blanket up around her, her eyes dark, and shimmering with concern.
"Erik?"
Erik smiled weakly, hand on his chest as a slight wheeze escaped his lungs.
"I.... I'm all right..... Christine......" he rasped, clearing his throat, and sitting up slowly. "J-just...... have to.... catch my b-breath.."
"You're certain?" Christine's voice was quiet and trembling with concern, and she touched her hand to his where it rested over his heart. "You don't need your medicine?"
Erik shook his head, and reached slowly to cup her face.
"I love you...." he breathed, still a little breathless.
He moved forward to pull her into his arms, and winced as a sharp pain cut through his chest, and he groaned.
"P-perhaps, the medicine... would be a g-good idea," he gasped.
Christine smiled sadly, and pressed the bottle into his hands.
"You'll be all right?"
Despite her attempts at calm, Erik could see she was shaking.
"Of course, my dear," he said softly, taking a drink from the vial. "I'll be fine."
After a moment, he moved forward again, and held her close, laying slowly back down.
"Get some sleep," Erik whispered, kissing her cheek.
"You're sure you're all right?" Christine worried, stroking his cheek.
Erik nodded, flashing her a gentle smile, then kissed her lips, and pulled her so that her head rested on his chest.
"I love you," he sighed, rubbing her back. "Rest, Christine. Go to sleep."
"Will you sing to me?" Christine asked quietly, like a small child. Erik smirked sweetly.
"Of course."
His voice was soft and comforting, and in it, Christine could hear love, and faith beyond measure.
"If you'll listen, I'll sing you a sweet little song,
Of a flower that's now drooped and dead,
Yet dearer to me, yes, than all of its mates,
Tho' each holds aloft its proud head.
'Twas given to me by a girl that I know,
Since we've met, faith, I've known no repose,
She is dearer by far than the world's brightest star,
And I call her my wild Swedish Rose.
My wild Swedish Rose, They may sing of their roses which, by other names,
The sweetest flow'r that grows,
You may search ev'rywhere,
But none can compare
With my wild Swedish Rose.
My wild Swedish Rose,
The dearest flow'r that grows,
And some day for my sake,
She may let me take
The bloom from my wild Swedish Rose.
Would smell just as sweetly, they say,
But I know that my Rose would never consent
To have that sweet name taken away.
Her glances are shy when e'er I pass by
The bower, where my true love grows;
And my one wish has been that some day I may win
The heart of my wild Swedish Rose.
My wild Swedish Rose,
The sweetest flow'r that grows,
You may search ev'rywhere,
But none can compare
With my wild Swedish Rose.
My wild Swedish Rose,
The dearest flow'r that grows,
And some day for my sake,
She may let me take
The bloom from my wild Swedish Rose."
Christine giggled sleepily, her mind half in her dreams already.
"Erik....." she slurred, burying her face in his shoulder. "....You smelll pretty."
Of course, she was entirely too tired to notice that Erik had changed the word 'Irish' to 'Swedish,' and Erik had to smile as his own eyes closed slowly.
-
-
They boarded the boat mid-morning the next day. Erik held Christine's arm until they were on the deck, where there was no chance that just losing her balance would send her into the waves. He knew she could not swim, she'd told him so once, and he would take no risks. Not with Christine.
Christine laughed as the ship pulled away from the dock, and pulled Erik to the bow, where she stood, looking out over the ocean, and letting the sea-spray hit her face.
Erik watched her lean into the wind, her eyes closed, a small smile on her lips. She looked beautiful, almost otherworldly, standing there, with her curling chocolate hair billowing over her shoulder like her skirts, her fair face slick with the ocean spray, and the sunlight highlighting her delicate, high cheekbones.
An angel of Heaven. What am I doing with her?
A dry grin settled onto his face, and he sighed, gently taking her in his arm, resting his chin on her head.
"I love you," he said softly. "And I wonder why you've stayed. God knows I've done nothing to deserve you."
Christine pulled back, and looked at Erik, gently brushing her fingers over his cheek.
"Erik, that's not true," she said gently. "You may have done some wrong things, but since I've met you, you haven't truly hurt a soul. And I don't think you've ever wanted to." She leaned into him, and wrapped her arms around him, gently rubbing his shoulders. "At heart, you're a good person."
Erik was silent at her words. 'A good person'? Hardly words he would have used to describe himself. He had murdered, he'd stolen, he'd lied, he'd extorted, until the night Christine returned to him, he realized suddenly, he'd been a drug addict, and not cared who it pertained to. In short, he could hardly see what Christine saw in him.
And yet, she did see something. Somehow, she saw something good, and decent inside his black and twisted, mangled soul. And she'd latched onto it.
"I love you, Erik," Christine whispered, resting her head against his shoulder, and breathing deep. God help her, she loved him so.
-
-
"Erik," Christine sighed. "I miss Paris."
Erik laughed at the sudden randomness of her confession, and kissed her temple.
"We'll go back, then," he promised her. "When this is all over with. We'll return with our baby."
They stood together at the bow of the ship again, looking out at the cliff that was England. In the gloom, it was nothing more than a black shadow against an even darker night sky, but it still represented the future to the two of them; a turning point of sorts. Soon they would be properly married, and soon they would have a child. They would come to England a couple, and leave it a family.
-
-
It rained again as they rode a carriage from Dover to London. The strength, and power of the storm had put them back three days, and Erik was not pleased. The entire atmosphere in the brougham was tense and pulsating with annoyance.
Meg and Antoinette had argued just the previous night, Erik was concerned for Christine - not to mention a bit put out by her sudden swing to outright anger toward him when the baby gave a savage kick to her liver, apparently ('This is YOUR fault!' she'd screeched, turning from the room, and leaving him silent, and shocked in the middle of the room) - and Nadir was incredibly on edge, having come to all sorts of hair-brained conclusions about their moods. Only Raoul and Arilda weren't upset with someone, and even they were quiet, and subdued.
No one said a word as the grey country rolled by. Christine sighed, and Erik tentatively reached out to wrap an arm around her shoulders. She turned her face, and kissed his cheek, then leaned against his shoulder to show she forgave him for, as she'd said that morning, 'giving me such a devilishly strong baby, you.....' (she hadn't been able to come up with a good insult, and had simply trailed off).
The carriage pulled up outside a respectable-looking hotel, and everyone got out. They got their rooms, and retired to them, as it was already well past sun-down, and everyone was tired from the trip. Now that they were in London, everyone, even Erik, seemed in much better spirits. He laughed and kissed Christine's temple lovingly.
"We made it," he sighed, holding her close. "God, I love you."
Christine snuggled close against Erik's shoulder, smiling lazily, and sighing. A warm fire crackled in the fireplace, and she was in an incredibly good mood.
"And I love you," she replied, reaching out to turn his face toward her. She gently untied his mask, setting it on the small end table by the bed, and kissed every inch of his face, from his forehead down, as she had the first night she'd returned to him, when she'd thought for certain he was going to die, and leave her alone (she was incredibly grateful that such a thing had yet come to pass).
"Christine," Erik whispered, suddenly nervous. "When the baby comes, you'll love them, won't you? Regardless?"
"Of....?" Christine prompted, not quite seeing where Erik was going with this.
Erik trembled, reaching out shaking hands to hold hers.
"E-even if they....." he paused, and looked away, closing his eyes as one hand reached up to touch his skull-like face, "look like m-me?"
Christine almost laughed at the absurdity. Erik had not mentioned this insecurity since the day she'd discovered she was pregnant. As it was, thought, she couldn't bring herself to laugh, quite, because of the pained, fearful look on Erik's turned-away face.
Slowly, tenderly, she reached out, and turned his face to hers again, looking dead into his shining yellow-gold eyes, praying that his beautiful eyes would be inherited by their child.
"I will love our child," she said softly, reassuringly. "No matter what. If they look like you, if they have no arms, if they are blind, or deaf. It does not matter, Erik, because they would still be a part of me. She's still a part of me."
Christine's loving, caring kindness was still unnerving to Erik - likely always would be - and he changed the subject quickly, trying to force down the lingering worries in his mind. He remembered quite well the way she'd reacted to his face. Who was to say she wouldn't react the same to the baby? Would history repeat itself?
"Again with the 'she'?" he laughed, forcing everything out of his mind.
Christine nodded.
"I still think it's a girl, yes. Does that upset you?"
Erik's eyes widened.
"Of course not, Christine, my dear," he replied quickly, afraid to evoke a mood swing out of her. "I am honored to be the father of whatever child you have. I merely wonder how you know it's gender so soon before it is even born, mon ange."
Christine just smiled, and kissed him, closing her eyes.
Erik sighed as he watched her drift to sleep. The pregnancy thus far had been quite difficult, with the fainting spells, and how tired she always seemed. In fact, the only thing Erik was grateful for was that the nausea had at last stopped. If he'd known, though, that it would bring Christine such pain, he never would have let her love him that night. It never would have happened, had he known this would come. He would have simply lain there weakly, let her tell him she loved him, and kiss him softly before letting go, and leaving this world behind him.
But things hadn't happened that way for a reason, he supposed. Maybe this baby was to teach them all something.
XxX
Done. Next chapter should be up soon, I hope you all liked this one. Review, please!