His Comfort
I am being ridiculous. I sit on the edge of the bed, nervously, watching the door. I do not know what I expect…Yes, I do. I wait for Erik – I am waiting for him to charge through the door and take me back with him. All night I wait, jumping at the smallest noise and straining to hear footsteps. When they finally do come, the morning light has spilled into the room, and it is not Erik. It is a wispy-looking woman in black who has come to help me dress.
The gown is heavy and awkward-feeling. It seems to add ten pounds to my already overly-large body, and I feel dragged down. But I say nothing. She takes me to the kitchen, where they feed me too much breakfast and tell me that since I am expecting I cannot endanger myself and take a tray up to Raoul. He finds me and takes me to a large room. Four imposing men look at me; all are wearing dark clothing and all have the same expression.
"What is this?" I ask immediately. "What's going on?"
Raoul turns to me and says quietly, "We are simply going to ask you a few questions, Christine. It won't take long."
"Why here?" I say. "Why not at the Capitol where business is taken care of?"
He responds, his voice quieter and sterner, "Because the Capitol is not safe right now. Sit down, Christine, and answer the questions."
The men take turns asking. "What happened the night of your abduction?" "Who took you? Describe them." "Where were you taken?" "Were you ever taken to the laborers' village?" "Who took care of you?" "What did they do when they found out you were expecting?" "Did they tell you why they abducted you?" "Did you ever meet the Man With Half a Face?" "Is there anything you overheard that might be relevant to the Oligarchy?"
I answer each question wearily. They pin and trap me; they put words in my mouth and corner me with each inquiry. Sometimes I lie, sometimes I do not. In the end, they have obtained exactly what they intended to obtain before they even questioned me. It is nothing poignant. I could have told them the most outlandish tales and, even if they were true, they would have still drawn their own conclusions. They mutter together quietly for a few minutes before nodding to Raoul, who tells me I am to return to my room quickly for another appointment.
"I will be up in a moment," he says, turning back to the men. I walk back to my room slowly, taking in all the small details I forgot about the mansion. The door to the dining room creaks when I open it. The vase by the kitchen has a scratch near the bottom. And I cannot remember if I ever laughed in here.
The appointment is with a doctor. I sit while he pokes and prods, and Raoul stands near the door, watching all with almost-anxious eyes. The doctor asks me personal, embarrassing questions, but I do not cry. I will not cry any more. This house, this government, this situation does not deserve any tears from me. I answer each question with as much dignity as I can muster, and he pronounces me ten to twelve weeks from delivery and tells me that I seem to be very healthy. He assures Raoul of my obvious health and with that will come a safe, easy delivery.
They treat me very well. I am fed constantly, and a woman is assigned to follow me around and help me when I am in pain. She knows exactly what to do to lessen or completely stop everything that bothers me. I am sitting down most of the day. It is the doctor's orders, apparently, that I do not engage in strenuous activity; however, I am taken for walks now and then. The woman never tells me her name. It doesn't seem necessary. She is always there when I need her. She always knows when I am speaking to her. There is no need to say her name. She never offers. I never ask.
But I am still waiting. I wait every night until sleep finally takes me, until nightmares come and terrorize my thoughts. What if he never comes back? What if he's been killed? What will I do if the baby is born and he never gets to see his own child? What will I be doing in one year from now? Will I still be alive in one year from now?
I try not to lose control. I have not cried yet, but there have been close moments when I wake to another day in the mansion. Our only option now is to wait…
One night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. My hand is on my stomach. The baby is moving. I remember how excited I was when I first felt movement. But now there is no one to share this with. I sigh, ensconced in darkness. I soon realize that the darkness is because my eyes are closed, and I allow myself to doze.
Too soon, I sense someone near me, and my eyes open quickly. I nearly whisper a name that has not been on my lips in too long. But I recognize Raoul sitting in a chair that is close to my bed.
"What are you doing here?" I whisper softly.
With the calm moonlight, I can see him smile. "I feel as if I haven't seen you properly. You are very pretty, did you know that?" I say nothing. "We've never really spoken since you came back. Lately I've been very busy during the day, and now was the only time I could get away to see you." He is silent for a moment, waiting for a reply that I never give him. When the silence presses, he cannot handle it, for he sighs and drops his head a little.
"I missed you terribly when you were gone," he says quietly. "I never realized how much I enjoyed your company until I could no longer have it."
"Oh," I say.
He seems to be encouraged by the fact that I said something. With another smile, he says, "How are you feeling?"
"Well enough."
Quietly, he reaches out and takes some of my curls between his fingers, gently running them through his hand. I watch his face. He seems focused on his task, his eyes watching my hair. After a few minutes, his gaze travels down to my protruding stomach. His hand hovers over it momentarily, and he asks, "May I?"
I nod slowly. His hand is heavy and warm. Gently, I place my hand over his and move it to where he can feel the most movement. After a few moments, the baby kicks, and Raoul's expression lights up in a most moving way. He laughs suddenly and smiles at me. I cannot help but smile back, somehow delighted that he finds something as simple as this exciting. It is a while until he leaves. We speak very softly about simple, unimportant things. The Oligarchy is never mentioned, nor is my absence. I find myself enjoying his affable conversation in a most pure, innocent way, and I am willing to speak as long as he wishes. Finally, he yawns and stands.
"Goodnight, Christine," he says, touching my cheek briefly. "Sleep well."
He comes again and again. He never offers any explanation. I suppose I do not mind. It is the one time during the day when I can speak to someone without being reserved or forced. I smile without realizing it and come to look forward to the moments when he enters my room.
But I miss Erik fiercely. I want him to come back. I want it more than anything I've ever wanted before. Every moment of the day is spent in anticipation for when he will come back and take me. Doubts gnaw at me viciously, and one night I hesitantly ask,
"Raoul…was everyone killed the night you found me?"
He looks at me sharply. We have never mentioned anything like this, and I think he appreciates that just as much as I do. However, I do not retract my question and wait.
After clearing his throat slightly, he says, "Most. They captured a few."
I sigh – with or without relief, I cannot tell. Erik and Taurin might have been captured…but they might have been killed. I make up my mind to ask Raoul in a few nights about Erik. Perhaps if I get him in a very pleasant mood, he would not mind so much…
The thought is unnecessary the next morning, however. I wake suddenly, as if someone is there. But the room is empty, save the pale sunlight that creeps in. It is white with the fresh morning air outside, and I lie still, enjoying the warmth of the bed.
Dull, distant voices reach me, along with the sounds of metal, and I sit up, curious. They start, then stop again. I slide out of the bed and walk to the window, peering down into the courtyard below me. My heart stops beating, my breath catches in my throat, and I throw on two dressing gowns and slip on the first pair of shoes I see. This is the closest I have come to crying, and I hurry through the house, silent with the morning. Cold air hits me as I pull the huge front door open, and I go to what I must.
Taurin is there, along with five others, all chained together at the wrists and feet. They look utterly woebegone and stand silently next to each other. A horse-drawn cart stands next to them, the horse also standing still. I assume that their guard has left for only a few minutes, and so I hurry. Taurin sees me and his entire expression changes. With a cry, I throw my arms around him.
"Christine!" he says, his voice hoarse. "What are you doing here?"
He leans down obligingly to allow me to kiss his forehead. The other men are all familiar, and I smile at them. They manage grim half-smiles.
"What's going on?" I demand. "Why are you here? Where's Erik?"
Taurin looks around the courtyard, saying, "Erik should be fine, Christine. We were all taken, but he disappeared two nights ago." He sees my expression and amends quickly, "It was not planned. They were furious when they found out he had disappeared from his separate holding cell. You need to leave, Christine."
"What are they doing? Are they moving you somewhere else?" I have a grip on his left arm, and I do not let go.
"No, Christine, it's…" He is quiet for a moment and breathes deeply. "We are to be executed this morning for a public display of power." He shares grim, sad smiles with the other men, who are all watching us.
My stomach disappears. "Then…why are you standing here? Go! No one is watching. Run – escape!"
He shakes his head slowly. "No, Christine – no. There is no use. There are guards at the outer gates." His tone of voice changes to light and amused. "I'm only surprised they kept us alive this long. Didn't they realize that they wouldn't get anything out of us?"
The men laugh with him, but I cannot understand why.
"What do you mean?"
"They tried to torture us for information, but there was nothing to give." Taurin nods at his right arm. "They pulled my arm out of place. It aches terribly." I notice then that he is holding it oddly. His bullet wound must have opened again, too, because there is a dull red stain on his shirt near the injury.
I do not understand. Why aren't they running? Why do they just stand there? Why are they smiling? I shake Taurin angrily, and he yelps with pain. "Stop, Christine, that hurts my arm!"
"What are you saying?" I say, my voice hysterical. "Get out! Take the horse and – "
"Oh, Christine, you're in trouble," says Taurin, looking over my shoulder. "Someone has noticed you are here."
I turn to see two horses coming toward us. Ignoring them, I look back at Taurin. "Taurin, where is Erik?" He does not look at me. I take his jaw in my hand and force his face back to mine. "Taurin, where is Erik? I know you know! I know he told you!"
Taurin smiles. "He adores you; did you know that, Christine? More than anything else, he wants you to be happy. I want you to be happy, too. Thank you for everything, Christine."
The horses have stopped behind us, and I hear Raoul's voice snap, "Christine, what are you doing outside?" Raoul is dressed in his military best, and his horse is startlingly huge and white. He dismounts swiftly and takes my arm, roughly pulling me away from Taurin.
"Get them into the cart!" Raoul commands, his voice harsh and cold. The other man on the horse does not need to do anything. The six chained men walk to it obediently. Raoul then looks at me and asks quietly, "What are you doing out here?"
"Where are you taking those men?" I ask.
"They are the terrorists that held you captive for months, Christine. They are going to be executed. Christine, what's wrong?"
I begin to cry at last, and I clutch Raoul's stiff red jacket. "Please, don't…" I sob. "Please, Raoul, do not kill them! I've never asked you for anything important, but please for once grant me something that matters!"
Other men dressed in military garb have begun to file into the courtyard, and they watch us with curiosity. Raoul notices them, too, and leans closer to me, his voice holding a quiet intensity.
"Why do you want their lives to be spared? They imprisoned you. They are traitors to you and everything you are." He looks at them quickly before looking back at me.
"He – " I point to Taurin. "He is my brother. Please, Raoul, please…spare their lives. I swear I will do anything you ask. Use your power to give me this, and I will never ask you for anything again."
Raoul stares at me, his expression quite blank. A few silent moments pass. The entire courtyard is filled with tension. A man finally walks up to us and asks, "Is something wrong, sir?"
A moment passes. Raoul looks from me to the man several times, and he finally steps away from me.
"Nothing," he says, his voice clipped. "Please have my wife taken back to her bedroom. She is unwell."
He goes back to his horse and mounts it. I begin to scream. Two men begin to take me back to the mansion. Everyone in the courtyard ignores my shrieks. They are all silent and look at the cart. The tears stream down my cheeks, and I look at Taurin. He smiles at me and calls out softly, "Do not be afraid, Christine."
They push me into the closest room and lock it. I pound on the door and scream still. A few minutes later, two women enter the room. They do nothing but watch me. I know they are there to make sure I do not harm the baby – unintentionally or intentionally. I am sitting in a nearby chair and sobbing. I can imagine Taurin and the rest of the men lined up in front of a wall, a crowd of eager onlookers watching my brother with unjust hatred and disgust. And I can imagine Raoul giving the orders – I can hear the firing of the pistols – I can see the bodies crumpling…And I can't stand to feel it anymore.
"They killed him, Erik," I whisper to myself. The women do not seem to particularly care what I do, as long as I keep the baby safe. "They killed him, and it was my fault. I should have been faster. I could have been stronger. He was your friend, and he was my brother. Where are you?"
Raoul does not come for three nights. I know he is avoiding me, attempting to give time to me to allow my anger to cool. Oddly enough, I am not angry. I feel…empty. When he enters my room on the fourth night, I am staring out of the window. I have left the curtains open. The stars are very bright tonight, and they twinkle at me. I do not look at him as he walks over to the bed and sits down by me – not on the chair. Tonight he sits down on the bed. The mattress leans with his weight. I think of Erik and our first night together. With hesitation, he touches my shoulder and says softly, "Christine?"
I cannot seem to gather the effort to respond to him. I wish he would simply leave me alone. I do not want to think right now, or to feel, or to know. I simply want to stare at those shining stars until I fall asleep.
"They have told me you haven't been eating very well lately. Are you sick?"
When my silence continues, he moves his hand to mine and presses it gently. "Your hand is very cold," he says. "Are you warm enough in this room?"
The baby moves, and I spend another few moments wondering about in what kind of world my child will grow up. Quite suddenly, I feel Raoul move beside me, and I finally turn to look at him. His face is buried in his hands. He releases a shuddering sigh.
"Christine, please," he whispers, his voice muffled by his hands. "Please, don't do this to me…I could not bear it."
I watch for only a moment before sitting up, inelegant and awkward as I shift to be comfortable with my stomach. Hesitantly, I rest my head on his shoulder. Raoul wraps his arms around me quickly and buries his face in my neck. I know he is crying. His body shakes with sobs, and I can feel the tears. And for this night, I want to be his comfort, even though he has destroyed mine.