A/N: Here we are! This one and the next are quite possibly my favourite chapters of the entire phic! I love them still. I won't reveal too much, though, so enjoy!
Saturday morning came and went as Christine happily spent her free time with Meg picking out a dress for her date that evening. Something told her this one would be especially important for her to look her best and oh, did she want to. Normally she did not put in the effort, but tonight held the promise of importance.
After an few hours of trying on dresses, laughing over silly prints, and overall enjoyment of each other's company, Christine found a dress which would suit her more romantic mind set.
'Ooh, Christine, I didn't know you had it in you!' Meg whistled, looking her friend up and down, noting the blush which inevitably reddened the brunette's cheeks.
It was a bit more modern and showy than she generally liked, but it fit and it was not too overly expensive. It was a ruby red with short cap sleeves on a close neckline accented with fabric roses. Christine looked herself over in the changing room mirror one last time, wondering if it was too risqué and if Raoul would take offence, but some little voice in the back of her head urged her to buy it anyway. If he did not like it, then she would give it to Meg, but she liked it. It made her feel more confident and secure, even if the skirt barely cleared her knees.
Meg offered to do her hair for her, but she decided to leave it down with only a simple comb tying it away from the right side of her face. She had no jewellery in her possession, having sold most of it to get money to buy the boat ticket to America. She would make do with her own simplicity.
Walking to the café with Meg was fun and the perky blonde in her soft blue V-necked dress gossiped and giggled all the way to work.
'Now, you have to let me do most of the cleaning tonight. I will not have you ruining your nails or new dress,' she insisted, noting the red nail varnish she had forced Christine to allow her to put on. 'This is the last night with your man for a whole month, and I won't let you ruin it by tempting fate,' she continued, walking through the front door.
Christine rolled her eyes. Meg was more excited about this date than she was. At least, outwardly. Inwardly, Christine was a bundle of ecstatic nerves. She had never been on a real date before Raoul and he had talked of this particular evening so highly, she had come to expect the moon and the stars. She would never ask for such things, of course, but Raoul had made it sound like it was a given.
She went about her work as normally as Meg would allow her to. She swept the floors, trying to keep the dirt from her shining black shoes—a point of argument earlier in the day as Christine claimed her red ones would be too much, much to Meg's chagrin. She nearly laughed at herself for being so prissy and vain. She had never cared so much before. She told herself that she did not wish to disappoint Raoul by coming in such a lovely dress, but having the shoes of a maid.
She pondered this change in thought for a while. She had never been as worried over her appearance as she was when she was with Raoul. She was trying to impress him, but should she not be trying to feel pretty for herself? She supposed, smiling as the mirror over the back of the bar reflected her, that she was doing it for herself and for him. He made her feel like she was worth the trouble. She was fairly comfortable, but this was far from something she would do daily. One time dates with fancy expectations were fine for her. She certainly would not wear this for just any occasion as Meg would. Of course, glancing at her blonde friend, Meg looked gorgeous every day; she was the kind of girl who cared about such things. Meg honestly enjoyed it. Coming from nothing, she liked to make herself into something. That was fair, right? Then again, Christine had come from even less. Perhaps that was why she expected so little. She was more realistic.
Shaking her head, she huffed a laugh. Listen to her, she was starting to have thoughts like a normal woman.
'Christine, it's almost time for customers, do you want to go warm up?' Meg called as the lights outside began to grow purple and soft.
'Sure, if you think you can handle things up here,' Christine replied, heading off to the back.
'You know I can.' Meg saluted her with a sway of her hips and a wink. Christine rolled her eyes, laughing.
Christine glanced at the dressing room door she had come to consider as hers. She wondered if Erik was busy or would hear her. Thinking on the last time they had spoken, she bit her lip. She really needed to talk to him and settle things. He had been so distraught it had hurt her.
Deciding to do it later before she performed, she figured he would be more likely to be there. He told her he always listened to her sing. She stepped up onto the stage, sitting at the piano bench and playing through a few warm ups on her own. She felt more comfortable up there now. It was less frightening to have the lights on her and the eyes of the audience watching her every move.
Her voice felt good tonight and she pushed a little farther in her range, listening with a smile as it rang through the building. She had found it fun to work with Erik on her voice. He had taught her how to let it echo like an opera singer. She could make her tiny dressing room radiate with it along with the building outside.
Playing over the keys, she meddled with a more sombre song. She missed her nightly lessons. She missed the simplicity of her life before it all came crashing down at once. Had Raoul not come she would most likely still be singing to the disembodied voice of her Angel. He probably would have eventually. Would she have been happier if he had not? She doubted it. She liked having him there and being real. She liked talking to him and making him smile. She liked the way he would look at her as though she were the most treasured thing on the Earth because to him, she was. She knew that was selfish, but she liked being wanted. Being needed.
'Jeez, Christine, getting a little low there?' Meg called up to her, jarring her from her thoughts.
'Sorry, just thinking,' Christine muttered in embarrassment.
'Not about your date tonight, I hope.' Meg came over to the edge of the stage.
'No, just about…a friend,' Christine dodged.
'Ooh, playing the field?' Meg raised her eyebrows cheekily and leaned her elbows on the stage. Christine gave her a withering look.
'No. You know I'm not that kind of girl.'
'No, but you are fun to mess with.' Meg giggled, noting Christine's darkened expression which quickly turned into a shake of the head and a sigh. 'So, what's got you so down?'
'I just…I miss…' Christine looked off into the distance, hoping the words would come better than this. Sighing again, she turned on the bench to her friend. 'Have you ever had something so good, you didn't want it to end? But then, things change and you wish they could go back, but at the same time you don't?'
Meg looked at her blankly for a moment. 'Well, that's not cryptic at all,' she said, deadpan sarcasm.
'I know, I'm sorry. Forget I mentioned it.' She turned away.
'Oh no! You are not getting out of this one. This is the first time you've opened up in years and I am not about to miss my chance,' Meg told her, perking up and getting an authoritative tone to her voice distinctly like her mother's. 'You listen here, missy, you have to realise your problem. You are too realistic to the point of almost being cynical. You never let yourself have any fun. If it weren't for Raoul, I think you would have resigned yourself to spinsterhood already.'
Christine laughed dryly, realising her friend was probably right.
'Now, I'm going to assume this friend of yours is of the male gender?' Christine nodded. 'Good! It's about time something interesting happened in your love life.'
'It's hardly my love life if I'm not in love,' Christine pointed out.
'Not yet.' Meg put in with a devious look. 'Now, is this "friend" more attached to you than you are to him?'
Christine looked at her friend a moment longer than she meant to. 'Yes.' She murmured it out, somehow losing her voice at the admission.
Meg let her eyebrows twitch slightly at the pause. She wondered for a brief moment if Christine even knew she was lying. Passing it off and filing it away in her memory, she hid her perceptive discovery. 'Then why don't you tell him so?'
Christine decided to pointedly ignore the fact that she had not actually told him so in as many words. She had allowed his self-doubt to do it for her, but her not arguing this was enough, right? This only made her feel worse. She noticed Meg's slight change in expression at noticing her continued pause and looked away. No, she thought, I do not want to delve into this right now. I just want to go on my date with Raoul and let it all sort itself out.
Meg remained silent, feeling her happiness over Christine's upcoming date melt away into pitying worry. If Christine felt this strongly about her "friend", then why did she not tell him? Why did she not call it off with Raoul?
'Listen,' she said, breaking the icy silence. 'I won't tell you your heart, but if you really don't love the guy or at least care about him the way he does you, then telling him will be the best thing to do. Dragging him on will only hurt more.'
Christine closed her eyes, grateful that the tear which escaped was on the side hidden from Meg's view. She could do nothing about her clenched fists, but thankfully the chime of the door broke the moment. Wiping away her tear, she ducked behind the stage as more customers came in and busied Meg.
She had known what the answer was, but it hurt too much. She was a coward.
I thought I found the man of my dreams
Now it seems
This is how the story ends,
He's gonna turn me down
And say "Can't we be friends?"
I thought for once it couldn't go wrong,
Not for long.
I can see the way this ends,
He's gonna turn me down
And say "Can't we be friends?"
Never again
Through with love,
Through with men
They play their games without shame,
And who's to blame?
I thought I found a man I could trust
What a bust!
This is how the story ends,
He's gonna turn me down
And say "Can't we be friends?"
Why should I care,
Though he gave me the air?
And why should I cry,
Even sigh,
Or wonder why?
I thought for once it couldn't go wrong,
Not for long!
I can see the way this ends,
He's gonna turn me down
And say "Can't we be friends?"
Christine finished on the high of the song, her heart hammering in her chest and the applause of the audience in her ears. She had worried when the band proposed this particular piece, given her current situation, but as she looked out into the dimly lit room at the smiling faces, she no longer doubted. She had needed to sing that tonight.
Walking down the hall, she set her mind to going straight to see Raoul. It was already 10:10 and she did not want to be too late. Just as she came into the main room, Meg called over to her.
'Do you want me to walk with you tonight? I hate to see you go out alone.'
'No, it's all right. Besides, you and your mom are both busy,' she replied, noting the still packed room.
'You sure?'
'Definitely!' Christine smiled winningly at her friend before ducking out the door.
She breathed in a deep lung full of air and set off determinedly down the dark street. She dug in her small purse, trying to find the piece of paper with Raoul's address on it. She knew she had put it in there somewhere, but like all purses, it had a knack for swallowing her important possessions. The black lining did not help any in the dark. She continued walking, knowing that it was at least past her apartment in the opposite direction of the Majestic. She kept on going, still digging in her purse, only mildly aware of her surroundings.
Finally retrieving the paper slip with a triumphant, 'Ah-ha!', she squinted in the low light and passing car headlights to try to read it. She wondered if when she got her nose to touch it she would see it any better. She needed to stop and find a steady light. She looked up to see she was already past her apartment a couple blocks. She worried she may have missed a turn when suddenly something grabbed her and pulled her backwards.
She tried to scream, but the hand that clamped over her mouth was nearly cutting off her air entirely. The one which wound round her waist painfully tugged her harder as she fought through the shock to resist. She felt her mind spin painfully as her back was thrust against a brick wall. She closed her eyes to the pain, only vaguely aware the arm that had been round her waist was now resting something pointy against her chest, frighteningly near her throat.
'A pretty little thing like you shouldn't walk these mean old streets alone,' came a slithering voice. She opened her eyes, but found she was in complete darkness. She must have been dragged back into an alley. Her fingers clung to the brick behind her, but she wondered if perhaps moving fast enough would allow her in a hit. The tip of the knife, as her addled brain quickly reasoned, was pointed a bit too dangerously at her to make this thought wise.
'Now, what'ya say to a bit of fun tonight, ay? Seems a shame to waste a dame like you when you're all dolled up.' He sneered, letting her catch too much of a whiff of his liquor stained breath. She could not make out any of his features in this light that would help her.
He eyed her up and down venomously, taking in her subtle curves with wicked hunger. He put the knife away, perhaps against his better judgement, and used his now free hand to roam her tantalisingly dressed form. She clenched her teeth as his hand pulled up the edge of her skirt, his rough fingers touching her thigh. Something in her drew strength as his other hand moved to her breasts.
Seeing her new opportunity, she took it greedily. Swiping across his face with her nails, she flung him away and made a mad dash to the sidewalk. Her mind was in a blur, her head throbbed, and her knees felt weak, but she could not stop.
She heard the man screaming obscenities after her before she felt an even harder grip form on her from behind. She knew she had only a bare moment before he silenced her. This would be her only chance to cry for help.
'ERIK!'
No sooner had the name left her lips than she was thrown backwards, hard onto the unforgiving ground. She cried out a bit in pain, but had no time to assess if anything was damaged as her captor loomed over her. His feet were placed between her legs, spreading them as wide as the skirt would allow.
'You're going to regret screamin' like that,' he hissed.
Christine closed her eyes, turning away, feeling the wracking shakes of fear attack her. Then, from out of the darkness, slipped the most silken voice she had ever heard in her life.
'No, you are.'
Before she knew what was happening, she heard the sounds of a fight, blows being landed and mild grunts of pain escaping. She could not open her eyes, however. She kept her head down, covering it with her hands protectively until she heard a sickening snap and all went quiet except for the sound of heavy breathing.
She was terrified to look up, too worried who remained standing. Still, she battled against her fear and peeked up at the lone figure standing a little ways away from her. She knew by the height it was not her attacker, but there was an odd glow to the generally soft eyes as he stared at a nondescript lump laying on the ground a little ways away.
'Erik?' she asked, just above a murmur. His eyes flashed to her, their piercing light sharp. It seemed as though he suddenly saw her as they instantly softened. His previously strong and tall bearing hunched slightly. He seemed to be shrinking.
'A-are you hurt?' she asked, sitting up a bit, thankful that her body did not scream out against the motion.
His eyes widened at this before closing a bit to suggest pained laughter. 'Oh, Christine,' he whispered, letting her name hang beautifully in the air.
Something in this and the way he was starting to crouch down reminded her of herself. Her throat instantly tightened as she let out a dry sob before flinging herself into his arms. The second her head hit the curve of his shoulder and neck, her crying took control. She had not realised she had been holding them in until she felt his arms wrap delicately round her while still pulling her in. She fisted her hands in his black jacket possessively, driving her face as far into him as she could while gasping through her tears.
'Shhh, I've got you,' he cooed, bringing a hand up tentatively to stroke her hair. He had not thought she would react so openly towards him, but the way she wept and pressed herself to him did not give him room to doubt himself. He held her more boldly now, hoping to give her comfort. This only solicited an especially loud wail and she clung to him even harder. He felt tears spring to his eyes at this, daring to nuzzle into her a bit. She tucked her legs in closer to him as he held her. He let out a strained breath when she took in a shuddering sob. 'I'm here, Christine. I'm here,' he assured, letting his chin brush dangerously close to a bit of her exposed neck. He would not dare.
'I was so scared,' she said into a sob, making it blend together a bit.
'I know. I know. It's all right now. I'm here. You have nothing to be afraid of,' he told her, rocking back and forth a bit. 'It's all right.'
She gasped a few breaths, calming to more rationalised sobbing. She was no longer wailing, but her grip did not loosen from his jacket and she remained resolutely tucked into his arms. He noticed her relaxing a bit and determined it best to get out of the dingy alleyway.
'Christine,' he murmured in her ear softly. 'Would you like me to take you home?' he asked, already shifting to pick her up. She nodded against him quickly. 'All right. We'll go to your apartment. It's closer,' he explained, lifting her effortlessly into his arms.
Standing up was a bit of an ordeal, but he managed without too much jostling. He walked resolutely down the street to her apartment building. She stayed burrowed in his embrace, which suited him fine, though it made him wonder for the structural integrity of his knees. Every breath she released onto his skin felt cool against the tears she had dripped there, but quickly warmed. It was the most heavenly sensation, beaten only by the tickle of her eyelashes on the edge of his jaw. She kept her eyes closed, but each step bumped them slightly. He knew she must surely hear the roaring thuds of his heart, but he did not care.
He walked up to the front door of her building and somehow managed to open the door without much trouble despite not having empty arms. He took them up the stairs when she muttered her room number. He knew it anyway, but he humoured her into thinking she needed to lead him. He had firmly memorised her records at the Majestic by now.
He stopped outside her door and paused.
'Christine, my darling. I need the key,' he told her, happily burying his face in her hair to whisper it in her ear.
She poked her head up slowly, realising for the first time that her purse had somehow stayed on her arm. Digging into it, she pulled out her keys, opening the door with minimal difficulty while still in Erik's arms. The handle was a bit farther down due to his height, but she still opened it for them. She heard a soft thanks from Erik as he stepped in.
She returned to her embrace, though this time a little farther away from the now soaked section of his jacket. She felt sorry for ruining it, but she did not have much energy to think fully on it.
He wandered through the apartment, guessing the layout. He went through the meagrely furnished living room, past the table in the kitchen, and on into her bedroom. Thankfully, the door was still open for him to take her right in. He considered making her take a bath and then eat, but one glance at her drooping eyes told him that would not be within the realm of possibility tonight. She was still shivering from her sudden rushes of adrenaline. She needed to calm down and stay warm.
Placing her a little high on the bed, he moved the hand which had held her legs to pull the covers back. Picking her up again, he positioned her better, slipping off her shoes. Just as he was about to lay her back and tuck her in, she clung tighter with a whimper.
'Please don't go!' she begged, driving herself further into him again. 'Please don't leave me!'
He could hear the tears starting again in her voice. 'Shhh, it's all right. I'll stay,' he assured, trying to comfort her and gently pry her off. He must be insane, he mused. Here she was, clinging to him like a life line, and he was trying to get her off. Taking a slightly firmer, more certain tone in his voice, he looked her in the eye, pulling her back a bit to do so. 'Christine, I will stay.'
She searched his eyes before gently nodding and letting his neck go. He was happy she had done this, but now came the great question. Would she let him just sit beside her bed or…
His question was partially answered for him as he moved round to the other side of the bed to retrieve a chair. As soon as he came close enough, she held out her arms to him. She wanted him to…oh, he thought, be still, my heart.
Resigning himself to being on top of the covers, he slipped off his shoes, jacket, and vest, loosening his tie and daring to unbutton the top of his shirt. Climbing in beside her and swallowing the butterflies that rose from his stomach, he focused on her quivering lower lip. She needed him. The events of tonight had reduced her to a pleading child and he could not find the heart to blame her.
Shuffling awkwardly in next to her, he leaned back, his head just missing the head board. Almost as soon as he was settled, her arm came across his chest and held him tightly as she laid on his torso, her chest pressed against his. He gasped slightly at the sheer divinity of such a sensation. She had the side of her face nuzzled into him, her shoulders tense as though she were fending off the cold of a storm for him. She gasped in a breath as the sobs continued to threaten.
He finally managed to regain some of his senses at last and rubbed her back and smoothed her hair some. He heard her whimper slightly, only this one sounded more like words. He hummed questioningly, concerned it was important.
'Please don't leave me,' she begged again.
'I won't, darling. Erik is staying right here with you,' he assured once more.
He did indeed stay like that, noting how slowly her shoulders relaxed and the tiniest motions of her head to snuggle deeper into his calming embrace. He was her security and safety. She clung to him like no other.
At some point in the night, when he was absolutely certain she was in a deep sleep, he tried to prise himself away. He felt the immorality of the situation and wished to avoid her embarrassment the following morning. As soon as he shifted, however, he was surprised to find her grip tightening and her breath becoming more rapid. Her eyes were closed tightly and she moaned a bit, looking like she were about to cry, despite her unconscious state. Erik quickly stilled and started soothing her again. She eventually calmed and muttered in her dream hazed voice, 'Please, don't go.'
Erik could have cried.
He remained still, only moving to comfort her. How dare someone turn his beautiful angel into this?! How dare that slime place his disgusting hands upon her?! He had hurt her beyond understanding. Once strong and confident, she was now a snivelling girl, clinging to her once angel. Not that he minded the clinging. But it was not right for her to do so out of fear. How long had he wished that upon seeing him she would launch into his arms? How many nights had he lain awake praying to have one like this? And now he had it, but not by her choice. She was hurt and he was her rock to cling to in the storm of her distress. He had been beyond shocked that when she had the option of calling out, his was the first name that came to her gorgeous lips. He had followed her home to make sure she was safe as he had seen how well dressed she was tonight. She would be easy prey for anyone of less than chivalrous intent. He had been appalled that her boy was not there at the café to watch over her instead. He had known better than to follow her when in the company of the boy as the last time had been a serious mistake. He had been a bit behind and was battling wanting to turn back. He had completely lost sight of her when he heard her call. His vision had gone blank and he had rushed in without a second thought. He would defend her until his last breath. He had seen red the moment he came upon the scene. Something in him from the war, long ago thought mended, had snapped. God help the fool who made his Christine cry.
He watched her sleep in the darkness. He was perfectly comfortable if she was. She looked like an angel. Her curls were splayed out across his shirt and her fingers were happily entwined in the fabric at his side. She was getting little spots of lipstick on the white cotton, but he did not care in the slightest. She was here, sleeping on him, perfectly content to have him next to her.
Daring to reach out, he brushed one curling lock out of her face, seeing her ivory skin and feeling the warmth of her body continue to radiate through the bed clothes and into him. He was in Heaven, he was sure.
A/N: Can't We Be Friends, 1929. Music by Kay Swift, Lyrics by Paul James for The Little Show.