Chapter 11-

Erik upheld his promise and avoided Wilma whenever she came for their weekly check-ups. Gradually she became more comfortable in their house though, when she caught glimpses of Erik, quickly turned tense. Occasionally, just to spite Wilma, Erik would casually wonder into the room and sit as though he were a quiet observer. Wilma, in turn, would flutter about nervously sometimes stuttering over her words. Christine could only later scold Erik, though he out right denied her accusations.

"It's getting close," Wilma said one afternoon after she had pressed mercilessly on Christine's lower abdomen. Christine had sat through the painful ordeal, trying hard not to wince. Erik responded likewise, clawing at the arm rest his chair. "I will come by tomorrow to check on your condition."

"Close?" Christine asked, she was shaking a bit. "The baby should be coming soon?"

"Yes," Wilma nodded; she didn't even attempt a smile through her thickly pursed lips. Erik's involvement had changed the whole atmosphere of their visits. She motioned to the areas of interest and carefully explained everything. "The baby is getting into position. I can feel the head down here," Wilma said gently pressing. The light pressure was still enough to cause Christine to gasp in shock, "Soon the contractions will start. That is what I will look for."

Christine nodded piteously. The idea of childbirth was still slightly surreal, but the impending pain wasn't something she was looking forward to. Erik sensed her discomfort and silently moved to her side. Wilma danced to the far side of the room, skillfully avoiding him. The couple ignored her and Christine was grateful for her husband's comforting grip. She leaned into his chest and breathed in his scent.

"Wilma," Erik said, surprising both women. He looked into her eyes, though she flinched away, a look of sincerity deep within them. "Words cannot describe how grateful I am that you are willing to care for my Christine, even after my presence was made known."

She looked down, her face flushed. Wilma twisted her hands, a clear sign of discomfort. Normally Erik would ignore her all together, act as though she were invisible. Instead he had addressed her personally; her reaction came as no surprise.

"You're welcome," she muttered under her breath. Her eyes became distant and withdrawn from the situation. Christine resisted the urge to laugh at her expense.

"You are proof, at least to me, that the human race can accept what they don't understand." Erik continued, choosing to ignore Wilma's troubled response. "You are the first person, besides Christine, to be willing to try to see the man behind the mask."

"I remember your mother," Wilma said in a light tone. Erik froze, growing rigid. "She'd always had a kind heart. When Charles, your father, died she was left alone with the prospect of giving birth to a bastard child. The priest helped, but neither of them was prepared for what they saw."

"That's enough," Erik said standing. He adjusted his Wig and tugged at his coat's hem. He shot Wilma a warning glance before resuming to his usual position by the window.

"She cried for you," Wilma said, frightened but willing to press on. "When you left she fell into hysterics. I-I know she didn't act like she loved you but, some of us believe she died of a broken heart. Torn to shreds by the son that left her alone."

"I said, ENOUGH!" Erik growled. Christine saw his hands shake with rage and feared what might become of Wilma should she dare to continue with her little speech. Erik didn't deserve to be plagued with guilt.

"Where did you go?" Wilma asked it was an innocent question that had never been answered. Slowly his figured turned to face them, revealing his troubled eyes.

"Anywhere you can imagine," he whispered slowly edging closer. "Persia, Paris where Kings and Queens hoisted their banners and selfishness reigned supreme. Places that harbored villains and evils, far worse than your imaginings. Then, deep in the catacombs of the Opera house I had tirelessly created, the only place where I could hear symphonies of song deep beneath the marbled passageway, lost in my solitude, lost in the darkness of Hell."

By the time he had finished he was close to Wilma. His posture wasn't threatening, only leery and full of warning. He was a man well capable of caring for himself, and defending himself. The foolish woman didn't dare to speak, her curiosity murdered by truth.

"We live in a cruel world," Erik hissed, "You are only party to that cruelty."

The insult was unwavering, and true. Wilma had sought to see Erik crumple with the weight of his own guilt. She hadn't anticipated him retaliating, as he had. He was weathered to the ways of people, used to their mocking voices and tactics. He seemed to see past her charade, past her feeble mental walls.

"Are there anymore questions you would like to have answered?" He asked mockingly. She stepped back, shaking. Christine, all the while, made no attempt to stop him. Shamefully she found herself equally curious to his life before the Opera Populair. Though she would never admit it, she felt her eyes open wider to the trials he had been forced through.

"N-no," Wilma said stepping back.

Erik nodded, satisfied by her answer, and moved back to his spot by Christine. She grabbed his hand, trying to comfort him. His didn't return her grip and she was disheartened by that. A pounding at the door came as an unexpected surprise. Christine clutched to Erik's hand tighter as he moved away, eventually she was force to release him as he bounded towards the stairs.

Out of nowhere three large village men, one could be recognized as the butcher, barged in. Wilma let out a cry as they pushed her aside, grabbing Erik before he could escape. Christine stood, paralyzed by fear and completely breathless. How had they found out? Images of Wilma's distant behavior only moments ago stirred feelings of betrayal. She was the only one that knew about Erik being here, she must have told someone.

"Gustav!" Wilma said approaching the butcher. "Leave them be! They don't deserve this form of invasion."

"Quiet woman," Gustav said slapping Wilma, sending her to her knees at the force of the blow. "Your involvement here will go unaccounted. This man must pay for his crimes."

"And what would those be?" Christine asked stepping from her place. Her hands caressed her midsection, hoping that they would have pity on her. Instead they seized Erik and pulled him towards the door carelessly. "Surely being born with a deformity can't count as a crime!"

"Christine, please," Erik said, though his captors gingerly sought to silence him. Erik fought harder, granting him a moment more. "You should have chosen the Viscount."

The air was knocked out of her as his words sunk into the pits of her soul. His attempt to comfort her did little towards intended goal. She sank to her knees, clutching at her heart. Christine felt as though it had been ripped out of her chest.

With a loud growl Erik threw back his head, revealing his wide maddened eyes. He yanked one of his arms free and landed a mighty punch on Gustav's ugly face. Erik ducked to avoid the third from grabbing him from behind, only to be tripped by the other. Gustav laughed, while Christine sat frozen in horror. The biggest man knocked Erik to the ground, a grunt escaping from his lips, and pressed his huge foot against Erik's throat. Christine longed to see the strong Erik return, the one who could scare people with a single look. Now he was on the ground, completely vulnerable.

A shock of pain coursed through Christine. She doubled over, resisting the urge to vomit. A muffled scream escaped from her tightly pursed lips as she fell to her knees. There she could see Erik's frightened eyes as he desperately tried to wriggle out of his captors grasp.

"Please," Christine said gasping with the force of the pain, "Have mercy!"

"Gustav," Wilma tried, her voice shaking with the fear of being hit again. Gustav made no move towards her, but didn't ask for his men to release Erik either. "This woman is expecting his child. If you keep this up she may go into premature labor. The baby could die!"

"Then that's better for the rest of us," Gustav's companion said victoriously. "We don't need another devil child influencing our village."

"Regi," Gustav silenced. He turned to Wilma, hatred deep in his eyes. "This is the last time you cross me, wife or no. I forbade you to return here, and you disobeyed me. Now I must ensure this never becomes a problem again."

"Don't harm him!" Christine said through clenched teeth. Sweat had gathered along her brow as the pain intensified.

"That I cannot promise," Gustav smirked. He motioned towards Regi and the third and they began to drag Erik away.

"No, no!" Christine screamed, standing against her weakness. She stumbled after them, screaming Erik's name. The last she saw of him was his mask, as it fell to the ground. "I need him."

Wilma came from behind and gently supported her, leading her back into the house. Christine fought against her motherly hold, eager to search for her husband. Another sharp pain shot through her body, causing her to cry out. Her head became foggy as the pain became unbearable. Now she didn't try to seem strong. Tears fell.

"Let's get you to your bed." Wilma said. They took one step at a time, Christine not strong enough to fight any longer. With all the tenderness of a mother Wilma saw to every need of Christine's.

The soon to be mother couldn't drink or eat anything. She cried for different reason, physical pain and fear for her husband.

"Erik is strong," Wilma said, her voice etched with emotion. "He will make it through this."

"No," Christine sobbed. "They'll kill him, I know they will."

"My husband may seem heartless but he isn't capable of murder." Wilma's words sounded hallow and empty. Gustav seemed just the man to end a life, no matter what his misled wife said. Wilma began to hum, her voice wasn't good but it soothed away Christine's shaking hands.

The pain seemed to subside for a while and Christine managed to eat a small portion of bread and drink a few glassfuls of water. She watched the window as the day slowly faded into night. The slightest sounds caused her heart to pound and hope to rise up inside her. Was it Erik returning to collect her, to steal her away into the night? Instead, it was just the wind rocking gently against the small cottage, blowing away her one form of security.

The pain returned, and with it the heartbreaking realization. This baby was coming, whether Erik was there or not. This child would grow up fatherless. They would relive Erik's childhood. A mother and her baby, lost to the world. Christine lurched forward and grasped her belly, clinging to it despite Wilma's urging for her o lay down.

"No matter what this child looks like," she said barely audible, "I will love him. He will know what a wonderfully talented father he had and will be like Erik in every way. He will play the piano and will be sung to sleep every night. He will be loved."

"Sh," Wilma said wiping away the wet hair that clung to Christine's face. Finally the midwife succeeded and Christine lay down, although reluctantly.

The pains intensified as time continued to tick by. Slowly exhaustion crept inside of her, threatening to throw Christine into a fit. It felt as though the baby would never come. She longed to see Erik's face, to feel his strong grip upon her hand, to hear his angelic voice. That voice, the one that filled her dreams with wonder and memories.

"You need to push," Wilma said, her voice husky and tired. "The baby will not come if you do not push."

"I can't!" Christine cried tears had wet her pillows to a soggy mess of feathers. "I'm not strong enough!"

"You are strong enough," Wilma promised.

"Not without him," Christine looked in her eyes, fear and anger resided there. "I can't do this without Erik!"

"You have to." The older woman hissed. "If you don't your baby will die, is that what you want?"

"No." Christine whimpered.

"Then push!"

With a mighty heave, and a few screams of pain Christine complied. Finally there was a release and everything went quiet. All that could be heard was the sound of Christine gasping for breath as her eyes grew heavy. Eventually everything went black around her. The only sound that could be heard was the lonely cry of a babe, it was over.


A very long chapter. Sorry for the wait.