Everything I Do

OceansAway and Gerik's Angel

"Aminta? Aminta, I need to talk to you." Erik said softly to the door leading to Christine's room that night.

"Aminta, please!" He wanted to speak louder, but kept his voice low for the other bedrooms close to hers.

"Christine? I just want to speak with you. I promise I won't keep you long. I know you're awake."

The door opened. Her eyes were red and puffy, though her cheeks were now dry. Her face was pale and fallen. She was under too much stress. Stressed he had caused. Stress he could have taken away.

"Would you assist me in a walk? It wouldn't take long." He asked again.

"Why?" She whispered, her hand rubbing one of her upper arms. It made Erik flinch, as if he could see the red marks through her white nightgown.

"I think we need to talk."

"Monsieur, I don't believe that would be wise. There's only two days before the opera opens. I need my sleep if I am to deliver you a well trained voice, do you not think?"

"It will only take a few moments from your sleep, I assure you." He insisted.

"Do you still find fault with my singing?"

"No! No, this doesn't have anything to do with that."

"Then you have no reason to be speaking to me if it doesn't." She said, quickly shut the door.

His hands turned in to fists, his jaw clenched, his breathing heavy. Anger was plenty, yet he managed to keep it under control. He had already showed her the affects of it this afternoon. Christine had every right to shy away from him now.

And then it was show time. The grand premier and it was nerve-wracking for everyone. Since that night two days ago, Erik and Christine hadn't spoken a word to each other, other than when he wished her to sing or where to stand.

Not a word more.

There was something different about Christine now. Like she was broken or hollow. Instead of being head strong and trying to prove her point, she remained quiet and dutiful to his commands.

And it was he who had caused it. Erik had yet to learn what bothered him more - the fact that he was the cause of her recent sadness, or just how he was. For before, she had told him many times that he was nothing to her. So why act so hollow towards him when he hurt her feelings? He knew others who had been harsh on her, even worse than he, and she would just shrug it off. Never would she allow someone else to keep her upset. Why now? Why because of him, who had no value in her mind?

Something was deeply wrong with her, but for once, he couldn't understand what.

The show was almost over, and up to this point, everything had been perfect. No matter what was happening in Christine's life, it was kept private and hadn't interfered with her stage life. She truly was being Elise. She had merged with her character and they were one.

It was her solo. The grand finale. She timidly walked to the front of the stage, her hands together, looking stunningly beautiful. The music started, but Erik, to his horror, saw tears already in her eyes, one or two already overflowing on to her cheeks. Always had she a problem with this song. Perhaps it was because, as she had let him know in the previous weeks, that it was this song that Raoul had first fallen in love with her.

Or was it bigger than that, his mind allowed him to wonder. After all, was this not the song that they spent countless hours, day after day practicing? Wasn't this the song he promised her would make her a diva? When he would lazily recline in his chair and watch her belt out the notes as pure and dazzling as a real diva at her young age? Where he himself started to really fall in love with her? Had she felt similar in those days? No, he wouldn't allow himself to go that far, but it was a pleasant fantasy to dwell upon for a moment.

And then his thoughts cleared his head and he returned his gaze to her. She wasn't breathing right; he could see that from his position six feet away. It was fast, shallow, not from the diaphragm, but more from the upper chest.

She quickly made an attempt to wipe her eye, but it did little. It was time to sing, and she was losing her nerve.

Her mouth opened, and the words did start to flow. But it his surprise, she was no longer looking out to the audience, but to him! A pained expression was clear upon her face now, like he was breaking her again by just standing there, looking up at her in confusion. She needed encouragement.

He put on a strong face, urging her as an instructor, but this made it worse.

"Think of me...Think of me fondly, when we say good...bye..."

Her voice broke. Her eyes closed, she swallowed hard, and then looked at him again. Oh, she looked as if she would die, standing there. But why? Why?

And then she did something that caught him entirely unaware - she ran off stage and out the backstage door leading outside.

Without knowing what he was doing, Erik left his post conducting the orchestra and ran around the stage, and through the same door. She was in his sight as she struggled. It had just rained, and here in the back, it was muddy. She tripped, but got up and tried again. She was heading to the little white gazebo, he guessed. He had assumed correctly.

She clambered up the stairs, throwing herself down and sobbing, her face in the cradle of her arms upon one of the benches. He hurried up the stairs, kneeling beside her. He went to hold her, but stopped, unsure of his position.

"Christine? Christine, why did you run? What's wrong?" He asked, his voice low and husky from gruff emotion.

She shook her head. "I'm...I'm sorry I... Ruined your show, Monsieur!" She sobbed, struggling just to breath.

"No, no Christine, don't worry about that. What is happening inside that head of yours? What's wrong?" He was near pleading, which was strange for him. He was a proud, strong man, never a beggar. But he felt like one now, yet didn't care. This was his angel beside him, so full of sorrow she couldn't hold it all. It overwhelmed her. And he had to make it stop. Because he had always done before. Always.

"Christine... Why are you here? In New York instead of France?"

This caught her attention as her gaze met his, to stare at him in shock. "Oh...monsieur-"

"No more monsieur. No more Aminta. Tell me, Christine."

Somehow, with these words, with the walls between them so quickly crumbling, it encouraged her to talk. It was in her eyes that she wanted to. He sat upon a bench, pulling her on to it as well and wrapping an arm protectively around her.

"I... I had to get away."

"Why?" He breathed.

"Because... I couldn't stay. Because I was... Haunted."

"Haunted?" He echoed the words, not understanding.

"By memories. Pain. Guilt."

"Did the Comte-"

"I have already told you before he was nothing less than perfect towards me."

"Then why did you leave him?"

She met his gaze, and that pained expression was back again.

"Why?" He urged, his hold on her tightening to get her closer to him. To offer any security he had to give.

"Why do you care? You haven't before. You've been nothing but a cold teacher-"

"Forgive me." He interrupted her with a passionate, low voice.

"No. No, it was what I wanted. What I needed. Why... Why I was here." She looked away.

His brow furrowed, now truly confused. "But you didn't even know I'd be here. You didn't..."

She shook her head. "I came here to get over you, Erik. I felt horrible for what I did. And so many memories and feelings plagued me. I was scared. Scared that I might have made the wrong decision. And late at night when there was nothing to distract me, my heart became more and more sure that I indeed had. I wanted to get away, but I couldn't admit it. I couldn't go back. Then staying with Raoul, it was slowly killing me. I had given up the stage, the life I wanted, for another, with only a childhood friend. Everyone else was against me. The life of a Comtesse is not for me. It took me all this time here, and you, to realize this. But I thought... If I got away... If I came here, I could get these feelings out. I could make them fade."

"And when I had gotten over you I would be able return to Raoul, and no one would be further hurt but me. Don't you see? I had to run away. I couldn't tell Raoul that I wanted to rid my feelings for you! I couldn't tell him that I had to be alone. He wouldn't have understood any excuses. He wouldn't have let me go. But when you were here... Oh Erik, you don't know the torture!" She said all of this when looking away.

"Don't I?" He whispered. It was the only thing he could say after her confession so far. He turned her head toward him, before he would let her say more.

She shook her head. "I know what you went through. I realized here what I put you through. But when you were mad at me...I understood. And I used that anger to try and get me to hate you. But I couldn't! So I got you angrier, hoping that you would finally break and truly hate me. To make me hate you." She pulled up her little off the shoulder puff sleeves that conveniently covered bruises on her skin that were in the shape of a hand. He winced.

"When you did this... I had waited for it. But when it happened... It didn't work. It made me feel... Like there was no way out. No escape. I felt helpless. Like a slave."

"A slave?" He questioned, but he already knew the feeling all too well.

"A slave... Yes. It sounds so... Dramatic. Like it's own opera. Perhaps cliché? But when the bliss of love wears thin, all you have left is that feeling of love. That connection of the hearts, whether you wish it or not, always seems to remain. You can't make it go away, no matter how hard you truly try. And then it's like you're a slave to it, you're heart tricking you in to feeding it."

Erik sat there, staring at her, no longer able to comfort. Even his arm had fallen away from her shoulders.

"How can this be true?" He asked, shaking his head.

"Because you're not a monster, Erik. You're not evil. You're a man. You're the man that has cared for me for years, even though I was all too blind to see it. My denial was strong for a long time, but not strong enough. I couldn't marry Raoul with a pure heart while my denial was stripped bare of me."

"So now you just told me that you... You... Love me. Then how are you going to-"

She shook her head. "I don't know. I thought it would eventually go away. I thought I'd be rid of it by now. I didn't expect this to happen, so I don't know what to do."

He decided to do something. He leaned over to her and kissed her. Softly at first, then deepening it once he had his arms around her again.

Her mind immediately whirled back to that night; the last time she had felt like this, felt so passionate, but quickly blocked it. Those were times of despair. These times were too vivid for her liking, but not at this moment. No, this moment would be bliss again.

She felt him pull her closer. So all this time had just been an act. He did still love her. He did. She was in more trouble now than ever.

"Hmmm." A voice cleared behind them.

A/N: Sorry for such a long delay, I'm currently battling writer's block. Now there are only a couple more original chapters before the confrontation. I do plan to add more time before that happens and slighty change the plot.

Please keep the victmins of the 35 W bridge collapse in your thoughts and prayers. It is so heartbreaking, and scary that those people could have been our neighbors, family, friends, etc. But it gives me hope seeing all the help people have been giving.

Please review.