Here's where this fic gets a bit tricky for me.

This chapter explains a bit about what happened, as Christine was overwhelmed at the time and now she's dissecting what she felt, right and wrong, why she wishes she had someone to ask besides Erik about it, etc etc

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CHRISTINE

I woke up the next day feeling like such a fool for crying like I had. I had practically had the tantrum of a child, all because I was so overwhelmed and confused, and the reasons I had given him were not... entirely true. They had seemed so at the time, but now that I had given more thought to it, I didn't know if they were.

The problem was that I had enjoyed it. Even when he had tried to venture too far, there had been a thrill that sunk its teeth into my heart. I had both wanted to stop and continue, though at the time I had been too frightened by sudden my loss of control to fully dissect my emotions.

And now I couldn't help letting my mind wander a bit further in thought. Anyone is curious about the subject of desire and making love, and I wasn't innocent regarding knowledge of most of what happens between a husband and wife, and often simply a man and a woman. It's impossible not to hear talk of it in the opera house. Why, I was expected to become a mistress myself and know of it by experience. I was practically shunned for not, as if I had insulted them for what they did, when I understood their reasons fully. I did not exactly... approve of it, but I understood.

What would it be like to make love, though? With Raoul, I had thought of it simply as a part of the marriage, in a good way. It had been this 'gift,' this 'secret,' what could create life. It was raised on a sort of pedestal. I saw it only as that, a way to express my love for him in the most profound way possible. That was the viewpoint that a wife should have.

And now I had felt something completely unexpected, the part of me that I had hidden away somewhere. I had unlocked some of it with Raoul, enough that the idea of our eventual wedding night had made me blush and smile secretively to think of.

But this was different. I had started the kiss like Raoul's and mine had been: more passionate while still barely within the realms of propriety. And I had been content to be within the realm of propriety then.

That was what frightened me, that and so many others. It was the fact that propriety had almost been crossed, and I had felt a thrill in it. I had suddenly wanted to cross it. And even with my fear, I couldn't help but wonder more and more about what other feelings and emotions there were to unlock, if there were any. The idea made my cheeks burn, but I couldn't help but be curious about it.

Desire. It was like I had never seen the color red, but someone had described it to me, so I thought I knew what it was. And then suddenly my eyes had been opened to a new world by actually seeing it for myself, and not a pale version of it, but one deep and rich as wine.

Red. That was the color I had felt, red like hot coals inside me, red like how my cheeks colored as I thought these things.

It had been exhilarating, kissing him like that, feeling what I had been then unable to describe. Oh, that was the word for it, exhilarating! Exhilarating! I couldn't breathe couldn't think about anything save how it felt to be kissed in such a way, held in such a way until the world dissolved around us and there was only this powerful and binding feeling...

But it had been too much for me, too soon. The moment I had felt helpless and overwhelmed I had withdrawn out of fear.

Oh, I wished I had someone to ask about this! What should a healthy marriage even look like? And what was the proper way to exercise desire, or not? My parents were gone, so they couldn't tell me about what was normal in a marriage. The most I had ever received from my father was to be chaste, and nothing more because I was too shy to ask more than once. Madame Giry had told me practically the same when I came to her flustered and blushing with my questions, though she had at least added that it was incredibly important to marriage, and the most profound way to show love to another person. Those words had been the most helpful of anything.

But that was when I hadn't fully experienced this feeling before. I had known a little about it, of course, known about passion, felt some of it with Raoul, but that... hadn't been like this. Last night had been far more powerful than what I had ever felt before, and it terrified me that my prior beliefs now might need to be edited.

Erik had never, not once, done anything close to what he had done last night. He never touched me without asking, rarely began any kisses of his own volition, and he always remained quite contained in my presence in that respect.

And so accompanying my new knowledge and curiosity about it, was fear. Not the thrilling type, true fear. I had felt helpless. For a moment, I hadn't felt safe. Erik's reaction that had caused this in me reminded me of a bottle of champagne being shaken up, and fizzing before it was all released. But what more could he let go of? Enough to completely lose control and possibly hurt me without knowing in passion?

He hadn't lost control last night, not really, he had stopped immediately when I was frightened. But he had gone further than he had ever dared before, and that frightened me. His hands had barely wandered at all, simply held my skirt- not pulled them up or anything like that, but he had held them in his hand. And then one had drifted up and stopped just before it went too far.

I trusted him not to violate me, of course, I knew he wouldn't, but... What if I kissed him like that again, and became frightened, but he didn't realize? Yes, he loved me, he wouldn't want to do anything against my wishes, but I had heard of men being blinded by passion... Was Erik any different?

I had been in so many operas with men driven by passion alone, like they couldn't control it. Perhaps opera wasn't the best place to learn about men, as the characters were rarely pure and perfect, but there was always some truth to them. And mistresses had spoken about moments of uncontrollable passion from their men...

Maybe it shouldn't have frightened me as much as it did. Erik had obviously tried to shut away any passion he had for me for my benefit, and had done so without fail. I hadn't noticed any of it at all, really.

But then that raised a whole new concern! Would he always have to restrain himself because of my fear of being helpless again? Was that wrong, too?

I didn't like asking questions in my head that I couldn't answer, and so many at once was driving me mad. My eyes were welling up from the strain of it.

I was upset and confused over so many things about the situation that it was difficult to pinpoint an an exact reason. My thoughts were one enormous flood, and it crashed over me, because I didn't fully understand what I felt or what to do about it or if I had done something wrong and I also missed home on top of it all and I didn't know whether I should've just stayed with Raoul and had a perfectly normal marriage without knowing about this feeling and then left Erik alone and I-I-

"Christine?" Erik called gently through my door."

I rubbed away my tears, "W-what?"

"I'm going to leave for a while, all day if you need me to-"

"No, no," I argued, confused. "I want you h-here..."

"But I could... go into town and buy you something to help you calm down and relieve your fears. Perhaps chocolates or-"

"I'm fine."

"You're weeping, my dear. I can hear you and I won't be able to bear it continuing for much longer, I can barely stand it now."

I choked on a sob, "I feel so stupid..."

"That's not a word you're allowed to use, except perhaps for me, we've discussed this..." He paused for a moment, as if thinking, "I'm sorry for... what happened."

"I'm not upset about what you did, you don't need to apologize, I'm just..." I extended my hands out, wordless, though he couldn't see. "Could you come in here, please?"

He opened the door after a moment's hesitation, peering through the doorway as if unsure of himself, perhaps partly due to his lack of mask. My vision was all blurred with tears.

"I don't think I'm well," I told him. "T-that's why I'm like this, I'm reacting like a naive little child over this..."

He went to my side, though remaining a good distance from the bed and turning so as to give me less view of his face.

"No," he told me, "you're not reacting like a child. But perhaps you are unwell, do you have a headache or... is it your flowers, or whatever you call it? Your time?"

"No... It's too soon for that, in a week or two they should c-come again... Could you sit with me?"

"I would..." he hesitated, "prefer not on your bed, let's go downstairs... Please try to collect yourself, I've never seen you cry like this before and I hope never to see it again."

I nodded and rose, then grabbed a handful of handkerchiefs before shuffling downstairs to the sofa. There he sat with me, and I curled up into him for comfort. But he wouldn't touch me, only secure me gingerly with one arm. No petting my hair, no embracing me, because I had frightened him last night in my stupidity.

"Is this about you thinking you're going to hell?" He asked.

"That's not... w-what I said, what I said last night I didn't really mean, it was all pouring out of me... I couldn't make sense of it all..."

"Then what terrifies you enough to cry like this?" He pleaded, pained in concern. "You told me you're not afraid of me doing anything untoward, I would never hurt you, then what are you afraid of?"

"I-I think... I thought about it," I calmed down a little from his proximity, sniffling as I spoke. "I'm afraid of... a lot of things, but... Did you...? Did you know what you were doing last night, or did you... not?"

He set his jaw, "Then you do think I can't control myself."

"I know you can, but-"

"No, you don't have any proof, don't lie to me."

"I was just... thinking about why I was afraid of anything more, a-and I was afraid that..."

"Speak your mind, don't hesitate."

I tasted a tear that had fallen into the corner of my mouth, "I mostly became frightened last night because... I'm so small, and you could've not heard me, and I wouldn't have been able to do anything. And I felt helpless from what I was feeling first, and then you... You didn't do anything wrong, but I was afraid because I didn't know what was happening or when it would stop, or if it would, and I hadn't at all prepared myself or known what would happen... But it wasn't your fault."

He was silent for a moment. Then he pushed me gently off of him and onto the sofa, but not in anger at me. He put his face in his hands, rubbing his deformity and breathing heavily as he faced away from me. Before I had time to ask him a question, he had gone up to his room and shut the door.

ERIK

I donned my full mask upon entering my room. I needed to leave her alone for a time, for my sake and hers. Flowers and chocolates wouldn't gain her trust or soothe her tears, nor any comfort I could give her.

She was afraid of me again... afraid of me just like before with that damned glass of wine...

She had given me more than ever before and I had tried to take regardless!

Selfish! Wretched! Vile!

I gasped for air, desperately struggling against the tears that gathered painfully behind my eyes. How I wished I could go back to last night and have kept my hands on her waist where they belonged and not taken control of her lips. Her lips were not mine! None of her was mine, why should any of her be? What did I deserve of her?

Once I had ceased crying, I went back downstairs. I didn't turn to address her, and had barely opened the door when she stopped me.

"Where are you going?" She asked.

"I'm going to buy more chickens and go into town," I replied as emotionlessly as I could manage.

She came closer, "I would like to come-"

"No!"

She backed away, startled. I swallowed and shut the door behind myself.

Now I had lost her trust, fled her company, and shouted at her. What else was I going to ruin? The day was still young...

I went to saddle Hazel. I hadn't even had breakfast, and I was supposed to make it for Christine and me, yet another thing I had neglected.

I heard the front door open, and Christine came out, holding the skirt of her nightgown against the brisk wind to preserve her modesty. I attempted to ignore her calling for me.

"Please, Erik," she said softly, "I'm sorry for saying that about you-"

"This isn't your fault!" I snapped, "Why do you blame yourself and apologize for everything?"

Her hands wove together and she averted her eyes. Why did I keep shouting at her?Shut up, shut up!

"I'll be quiet," she pleaded. "I only want to be with you."

"Why would you want to be with me now?" I retorted, not shouting at least.

"Erik, dear, I'm not upset with you and I sincerely hope you don't mean a word you're saying right now."

"Just stay home, go eat chocolates in your room or something."

"I don't want to eat chocolates in my room. I'm not a child, certainly not now, and I want to come with you. I'll be quiet, I won't bring up anything-"

"Is this about wanting to come into town or buy chickens?"

"Neither, I want to be with you. Please... I don't think you really want to be alone, do you?"

I calmed my voice further, "I do... What type of flowers do you prefer?"

She sighed, "Wildflowers."

"Wildflowers?... I meant like, lilies, roses, daisies-?

"I'll like anything you get me... I love you."

She turned to go back inside. Of course I wanted her to come with me, to have her talking about how beautiful the sky was, and speaking to the horses like they were people, and when she fell into her usual habit of reminiscing about Sweden with her eyes soft...

She needed to be alone. She was lying, she had to be, she wanted to be alone. Maybe she didn't realize it, but she needed to be for a little while.

After an hour of riding in that cart alone, I was already regretting my decision to leave her behind. But I went into town and bought her a bouquet of wildflowers as she had requested, and a blue blown-glass vase for them.

Then a small group of children ran through the street, chasing each other and giggling. I watched them in dread and curiosity.

Christine would want one eventually. It was inevitable. I feared she was lying to me to, as always, not upset me, and that she did indeed want a child now. The thought was almost sickening to me. There were too many problems with this to name. Firstly, babies could be dangerous to a woman's health. Secondly, the midwife would be half an hour away, half that time if the horse sprinted the whole way, but that was still likely an hour that Christine would be alone and in pain. Thirdly, I would be a terrible father and the child would hate me. And then I also simply despised the things. They were the first to point, the first to jeer and mock. I had no fondness for them. A child of Christine's I could tolerate, as it was part of her, but tolerate at best.

And yet how could I deny Christine what was her basic right as a wife? She spoke of my rights, but she had them, too, the naturally assumed parts of her role. She had the right to a child should she want one.

Perhaps it was fortunate she wasn't accepting of her newfound desire, or whatever she felt. She could be mistaken, after all, she had admitted that she hadn't meant everything she said last night, and she had been quite confused.

But should she actually have desire for me- a concept I still believed merely a desperate hope- then she would likely have a child if she wanted one.

Imagine... Desire for me... Being wanted by someone...

I passed by a blooming meadow on the way home. It was already beginning to warm up from spring, and I wondered if I had misunderstood Christine earlier. Did she want me to actually bring her hand-picked wildflowers?

But I had already bought the others, so I decided to just bring her to the meadow should she want to. That would cheer her up.

The minute I had returned home, full of trepidation that she might be upset, Christine came immediately out the door. She was wearing the blue dress I had given her, the one she had at first been shy of because of its value. Her hair was still damp from a bath, but she was smiling now.

"Have you spoiled me again?" She teased cautiously, her hands folded in her skirts.

I contained a sigh of relief that she didn't seem upset, "Only the flowers, as you requested."

"They're lovely," she whispered, her eyes averted as I handed them to her. "I missed you."

"You did?"

"Of course. The house was so quiet without you... Did you buy yourself breakfast?"

"Yes," I lied.

"Good, I was worried you might... neglect yourself... Could I help with the chickens?"

"No."

"W-what do you mean? Why not?"

"I don't want them to scratch or peck you."

"They're bound by their feet, I'll be careful-"

"I said no."

"Erik, darling, you can't keep me from getting hurt from time to time, it's called life... but all right, I won't... Could I take off your mask now, please?"

I began to unhitch the horses, "Out of curiosity, where did you put my other?"

"I... broke it."

"Broke it?" I whispered, bewildered.

"I crept downstairs in the middle of the night and threw it down into the cellar. It took me three times, but... I destroyed it. Passionately."

I nodded, almost smiling in wonder of it, "Of course you did... How did I not hear?"

"I was surprised at that, also..." She reached up for my full mask. "Now, may I?"

I nodded, and it was gone. I hadn't been outside with it off since... I couldn't remember when.

She took it inside with the flowers. I raised my hand to place it upon my warped and ruined skin, now exposed to the air, pensive.