A/N: I'm finding it difficult to write at the moment and can only ask your forgiveness for the gap between chapters again. Please forgive me, please read and review, please ignore typos… it's been a long day.
RR
Chapter 50- Morning After
It was the sun that woke him. He was not used to the sensation of it's prickling heat stroking his face. Erik forced one eye open, letting his pupil adjust to the light and then finally, allowed the other to open. He was lying on his back, staring up at a light ceiling on a very comfortable bed. It was a moment before he remembered the night before, as it came back in a torrent to flood his mind. He took a breath, let it ooze out in a sigh and then he glanced to his right. Christine was lying perfectly still all but the movement of her chest rising up and down with her soft breathing. Her hair was spread across the pillow, some over her face, she looked peaceful and calm.
The water that the maid had brought up was cold by the time they had opened their eyes again in the night and decided to move so that they could make use of it. Still, it cleared the mud from their bodies. Christine had handed him the cloth and turned around, lifting her dark locks out of the way with her arm. The sight of the back of her body was almost too much to bear as she stood there, naked, waiting for him to clean her.
She had not had to wait for very long.
After he had finished wiping the dirt and grime from her soft skin he had sat back on the bed and looked up at her. Christine had smiled warmly. 'Would you like me to clean you?' she asked, taking the cloth carefully from his hands.
His lips curled upwards involuntarily and he smiled back. 'No thank you,' he had said. 'Lie down and sleep,'
He could see that she was tired by the way her eyes only opened some of the way that they should, by the way her hands were shaking, very slightly, when she moved...
'Are you sure? she asked and in return he had simply nodded at her. He had watched as she pulled herself back onto the bed and over to the side closest to the window.
Years ago Christine did not sleep by the window.
Years ago Christine did not offer to wash him either.
'Erik,' she murmured, head resting on the pillow.
He had glanced at her.
'Are you angry?' she asked, her eyes barely open a slit.
Erik shook his head. 'No,'
'Then why do you look like you are?' she had asked, her eyes dropping closed and she forced them open again.
'I'm not angry,' he said quietly.
Christine had strained to keep her eyes open and then, when she did, she stared at him.
'I feel...' he remembered shaking his head. 'Guilt.'
Christine had nodded. 'Welcome to human nature,' she had said as she reached her hand out to stroke the clammy skin of his arm.
'Sleep,'
She had nodded again but coaxed him back to lie on the bed instead of sitting there. He sighed at the vivid memory of her coaxing… it had been with very little effort, and then she had wrapped her arms around him.
Lying there now, in the warmth of the invading sunlight, he found himself surprised that they were not still tangled within each other. Her grip had been so tight the night before, her hands pulling him in, her arms holding him close as if she would never let him go. Last night he had hoped that she wouldn't.
Oddly, this morning he felt no remorse in the sense that he wished it had never happened. He didn't. His longing for Christine had been so long and so desperate for so many years that he thought even if his brain was cleansed of her memory she would still somehow linger inside him.
He did feel guilty though, he reasoned in his mind, which was categorically different to remorse or regret. Regret would assume that you never wanted something to happen, never wanted it to have even been in your mind and that you wished you could erase it from your memory. Erik did not feel regret.
About anything.
Guilt, however, was the knowledge that whatever you had done, it was wrong. At least on some level. This level, though it felt right at the time, was that it was wrong by Fiona. Erik sighed quietly and raised his hand to his head.
And tonight was the night of the show.
Christine's quiet murmur made him turn to look at her. 'Mm...'
He squeezed his eyes closed, hoping that she would not wake up, he was not quite sure if he could face her this morning.
Any hope that he was clinging too disintegrated quickly.
'Morning,' she whispered, shuffling into his body. He fought hard with the demon inside but he lost and gently slid his arm under Christine's warm body. She lay her hand on his chest, stroked it with her fingertips. The shiver that sped along his spine was a fizzle of intense heat and he held his breath for a second, hoping he hadn't responded too openly.
'Good morning,' he replied. He felt her lips rest on his shoulder.
She looked up at him. 'I missed you,' she said quietly.
'I haven't been anywhere,'
'Yes you have,' she said, as her lips ran across the expanse of his collarbone and shoulder.
Push her away.
'You've been gone for so long,' she whispered against his throat.
She pushed herself up and her knee came across his waist as she knelt over him. He swallowed hard as her lips came down to meet with his. All thoughts of resistance vanished as his body responded to the beautiful woman straddling across his body, kissing his lips. He kissed her back with all of the energy he had inside, slid his hands along the tops of her thighs and let her kiss him. As she did he felt his heart racing and, when his hands pulled on her back and she fell towards him, he felt her groan into his mouth.
His mind whirred… In for a penny...
The sun was bright and warm on the porch this morning, Joshua thought as he sat quietly on the top step, legs straight in front of him, back against the post to the archway. He was wearing his best trousers, because Fiona was in a bad mood and the maid was too poorly to help his choose his clothes. He liked his best trousers so he wore them.
There was no one here to tell him off.
His father had not arrived back last night after the party that he went to. Very early in the morning, when it was still dark, he had heard the sound of footsteps on the landing and he had tiptoed to the door and peeked out. Fiona was walking down the stairs and that was when he realised that his father had not come back.
Joshua lay his hand flat on the wood of the porch and let an ant crawl onto it. He lifted his to his eyes and inspected the creature curiously, before he placed it carefully back onto the wooden slat. It was then that he heard footsteps on the gravel of the path and looked up.
His father was walking towards him, his jacket was hooked over his arm and he was covered in mud. Joshua swallowed and leapt up. He darted down the steps and greeted his father halfway along the path.
'Morning Josh,'
Joshua frowned. 'What happened? Did you get hurt?' he asked, concerned.
'I was caught up in the storm last night,' his father answered and placed his hand on Joshua's head. 'I'm not hurt,'
Before Joshua had chance to speak to his father some more and to ask him why he did not get home at all he was beaten to it.
'Where have you been Erik?'
Joshua looked towards the porch as they approached it. Fiona as standing on the top step staring down at them, her face creased into a tight frown. Joshua realised that she looked angry. He grabbed his father's hand.
'At the hotel,' he said, and Joshua glanced up at him.
Joshua felt a growing unease circle like sharks in his stomach. He squeezed his father's strong fingers in his small hand and held it tight. Fiona was looking at them both as they walked up the steps towards her, his father glanced down at him and then crouched by his side. Joshua did not know why, but the anxious feeling he had was manifesting itself as sharp pains behind his eyes and he felt the hard prickle of tears as his father lay a gentle kiss on his forehead.
'Will you run upstairs for a while?' His father asked him in a quiet voice. As quiet a tone as Joshua had ever heard it. 'I need to speak with Fiona for a moment'
Joshua did not move, though he knew that he should obey, his feet seemed welded to the wooden planks of the porch floor. He froze, staring at his father's dark blue eyes. They looked like a stormy ocean today, Joshua thought, as a tear threatened his eye.
'Go on, Josh,' his father said softly as he stood up and let go of his hand. Joshua shot a quick glance up at Fiona, before nodding in the realisation that he had no choice.
He nodded. 'Yes, father,' he said and began to walk into the house. 'But…'
'I'll come up when we're done,'
Joshua nodded again and then ran inside.
Erik looked at the brewing storm in Fiona's eyes and sighed.
'Which hotel?' she asked, as she turned her back to him and walked inside the house. Erik hoped that Joshua had listened and gone into his room, he had a feeling that this was not going to be a pleasant conversation.
'The one closest to the town hall,' he said honestly, as they entered the dining room. Fiona turned around and closed the doors.
'You're covered in mud,' she said, and Erik grimaced.
'Don't state the obvious Fiona, it's not attractive,'
She scowled. 'Neither are your lies,'
'Then at least we find ourselves at the same level… for a change,'
'Why so snide, Erik?' she asked, a sudden pang of hurt attacking her tone.
He shook his head. 'I'm not being snide,' he said. 'I don't appreciate the way you're speaking to me.'
'I'm not the one who spent all night out without sending word back,'
Erik glared, feeling a rush of anger coarse through his veins. 'You would have known had you come with me.'
'You told me not to!' her voice had grown louder with her anger. 'I was ill.'
'You're always ill,'
Fiona sighed. 'You were at the hotel,' she said, her eyes fixed on him as he leaned against the mantel.
'Yes,' he said simply.
'Alone?' she asked, standing with her back to the doors
'Yes,' he lied.
'How did you get so dirty?' she asked.
'I was caught in the rain,' he replied honestly.
He watched as Fiona rubbed the back of her neck. 'And the rain made you muddy?'
'It made the ground slippery,' he answered logically.
'So you fell over in it?' she asked, lifting her eyebrows at him.
'Yes,'
She shook her head. 'Liar,' she spat.
Erik stood up straight, taking a deep breath to calm his temper. It had little effect.
'You don't fall over, Erik,' she said, sounding almost breathless. 'You're a cat… in all of my life I have never… never… known anyone so sure footed.'
'Then how is it, exactly, that you think I got dirty?' he asked, stepping forward to close the large gap between them.
'Where is Chrissie?' she asked quickly, her stare unwavering.
'I don't know where she is,' Erik said. 'Have you asked James?'
Erik… he thought… is this the man you have become..?
'Yes,' she said simply.
'Does he know?'
'He hasn't seen her all night,'
Erik shrugged.
'She didn't come back either,' Fiona said, tears beginning to flow along her cheeks.
'I don't know where she is,' Erik repeated.
'And you aren't worried?' she asked. 'Considering your leading lady did not come home at all yesterday and that tonight is the opening night of your show?'
'I'm sure she will be back,'
'How are you so sure?' Fiona shouted, her voice echoing around the sparse room.
Erik opened his mouth to answer but was stopped when the doors opened behind Fiona and Antoinette stepped inside, closely followed by a changed and clean Christine.
'I'm sorry, am I interrupting?' Antoinette asked, flashing a look at Erik. 'I thought Meg and I should walk Chrissie back.'
Erik nodded. 'Thank you,'
'Did she stay with you last night?' Fiona asked, frowning.
'I thought it best not to send word last night,' Antoinette said. 'It was late and we did not want to wake anyone.'
'No…' Fiona said, her voice slightly caught in her throat. 'Thank you,'
Thank God for you, Giry, Erik thought.
'Can I leave her here or would you like me to take her up to her room?' Antoinette asked, shooting another look in Erik direction.
'Chrissie can find her own way to her room,' he said quietly. 'I'll walk you to the door Antoinette.'
Christine nodded and disappeared from the room, followed closely by Antoinette. 'Are we done here, Fiona?' he asked.
She nodded in reply.
'Good,' he said as he left the room feeling the rough pangs of guilt graze his heart. As he approached Antoinette she reached out and wrapped her arms around him gently. It was not a gesture of love, he realised, as she whispered in his ear.
'You're a fool Erik,'
'I know,' he whispered back.
'Make a decision,' she said, kissing his cheek as she pushed him away.
'Thank you,' he said sincerely and closed the door behind her.
Make a decision.
