"For in that solemn silence is heard in the whisper of every sleeping thing:

Look, look at me

Come wake me up, for still

here I'll be."

- Beauty and the Beast

…

Teuflisch

It was a fleeting moment that stretched out endlessly into oblivion. The vacant look in his eyes frightened her; the curved sheen of his blade pressed again the terrified woman's face still burnt into her mind's eye. Her eyes were locked upon Erik's face, looking for any trace of the man she knew; but all she saw were handsome features, his lack of symmetry, and lips that quivered dangerously.

Erik kicked his chair out from behind him, suddenly. He blinked, looking away from his place of emptiness, gazing back into Christine's eyes. The blue-green shimmer was gone, and darkness had slithered its way through: a camel shoving itself through the eye of a needle. "I need air," he said rigidly, his body tightened and defined. And without another word, he turned away from the table and shoved his way into the roar of the crowded tavern.

Christine sat stunned for a moment; a minute perhaps, nothing more…clenching the folds of the white dress in her hands. She felt rooted to the spot; a tree that had sprouted roots into the planks of the wooden floor…but when she finally ripped apart those roots, when she came to her senses a moment later…she tore away from the table and into the crowd.

She was seething.

She was furious by his manipulative and sickening past lover for interrupting her time with him. She was angry at the woman's words that bit harder than the fangs of a serpent; but most of all, she was infuriated with Erik's lack of explanation, and his abrupt excursion through the crowd and out the door. Did he not understand? She had stood beside him in the field. She had wiped away the hot tears from his face; she had soothed his worries. She had been there, just as she had promised him.

And now…where was he? Where was he in the midst of her field?

She pushed her way through the throngs of people, ignoring the men that called after her with raspy voices and the women that gawked as she passed them by. With every step she took, her anger twisted deeper into silent fury, and her hands began to shake madly while still clenching the silken folds of the white, unclaimed dress.

Christine burst out the door and into the open air of the night, looking around wildly for Erik's broad figure. Her eyes scanned the crowds in the streets anxiously, and suddenly, she saw him. He was standing by himself on the corner of the street; a stolen bottle of liquor clenched in a bandaged hand.

She marched through the distance that separated them, her hair unfurling around her like dark clouds swirling; a summer storm that grew cavernous in a blackened sky. As she approached his eyes fell upon her, and he took a deep swig from his bottle of rotted poison.

"You know, I certainly did not expect tonight's events to turn out as they did, but even more so, I did not see that you would blatantly leave me alone in that godforsaken tavern!" She spat at him, her teeth gritted together. Erik averted his eyes from hers, turning his body away, his shoulder blades shoving themselves together through his sweat soaked shirt.

"Forgive me, Fräulein," he spoke flatly, taking another deep drink from the bottle.

The nonchalance of his tone struck a match to the coals inside of her stomach, stoking the fire within her to an uncontrollable summit.

"That's all you have to say? Give me that!" she snapped, grabbing at the bottle in his hand. He merely moved it out of her reach with one swift movement.

"Erik, give it to me!"

He whirled around, glaring at her. "Are you afraid? Afraid after seeing that, you know finally who I really am? Is that what makes you so angry? For perhaps it is not my nonchalance that angers you…perhaps it is the truth that indeed, I am a bloodthirsty monstrosity!" he was hissing back at her, baring his teeth like he had in the tavern. But now, it was directed towards her.

"You are absolutely impossible!" She was screaming now; the power of her own voice surprising her as it echoed out into the streets. "You want to sit and wallow, is that it? You want to roll around in the demons of your past, isn't that what you always do? No! I will not just…just stand here and watch you pity yourself like a…"

"Like a what, Christine?" he moved close to her face, his eyes wild and contorted. "Say it, Christine. Say what you truly think of me. Say it!"

"I am not afraid of you, Monsieur, nor will I ever be! I see who you are, and perhaps if you had considered any other feelings besides your own, you might have seen that! But instead, you wish to repeat your past, over and over…you are the one who tortures yourself!" she snarled, baring her teeth right back at him. She was small in stature and stood in his shadow, but her form was not to be shattered; she was not afraid.

His mouth fell open as her words pierced him; another scar that would seam along his collection of brands. Erik was silent, staring at the woman who stood baring her teeth in front of him, unafraid of his great towering form.

"I said, forgive me."

"Forgive you? Forgive you!? For what, Erik? For what exactly…for leaving me alone in a crowd full of drunken men? I said I would never leave you! And now I'm assuming that because of that woman, you think everything I've uttered to you a simplicity of thought? A fleeting fancy or feeling? If so, you are ignorant! You're a selfish, arrogant, self-loathing – "

He grabbed the sides of her face and kissed her furiously. She kissed him back, biting at his bottom lip with ferocity, so hopelessly desperate to make him understand…to make him see. Both were so engorged within their kiss that they did not hear the bottle fall to the ground with a deafening smash.

She raked her fingers through his well-oiled hair, thumbing and stroking the shaved sides of his head. He ran his hands down the lengths of her arms as they curled around his neck, gripping them tenaciously with his thickly bandaged hands. They were a fury of blindness, of love that was unmatched; an eternity that had sparked in the mere wisp of a moment.

As his lips tangled with hers, drinking in the fury of her spirit, Christine thought of Eternity. She thought of what it might be like; God's promised Eden. A Paradise so rich and so free; unbridled from curses, from past sins…free even from the darkness that writhed inside the hearts of men, unbeknownst to them. She thought of Erik, being free from his past. She thought of the chains that bound him. And she knew in that moment, she could perhaps do nothing; but an invisible cord had formed itself between them. And she could pull at the cord, rip at the cord; become angry at the strength of the cord…yet she could never sever its sinewy hold upon her heart.

She slowly decelerated her angry biting, her persistent viciousness upon his mouth. Christine murmured into him, suckling on the fullness of his bottom lip, stroking her fingers down his chest that was heaving…and she gently pulled away from him. His eyes were closed, and they fluttered open upon the kiss that was broken; and he stared deeply into her.

"I have been foolish." He murmured softly. He held her close to his chest as his hands slipped around the tenderness of her waist. "I have been everything you have said. I…I left the tavern because I…I did not know how to feel."

She stroked his lips with her fingers, and he kissed them gently. "Promise me you won't ever leave me again." She whispered, her rage at him fading away like the sun settling into the comfort of the horizon.

He gazed at her tenderly. "You…you are not angry at the…the confrontation?"

"No, Erik…I trust that you did it for a reason. I do not think you a man of irrationality. What I am angry at is that you left me to be alone and wallow…and that you allowed her words to control you. And she revels within that. Don't you see?"

He sighed raggedly. "I promise, love, I can explain. I will explain, to you. You deserve such an explanation."

She raised her eyebrows, suddenly. "Love? Is that my new title, Monsieur?" she asked playfully, although her heart skipped a beat; a smooth stone skipping across a glass-like pond.

Erik ran a bandaged hand through his hair; he seemed unraveled, for a moment. "I…I spoke without thinking, Christine…I…"

"It is quite all right, Love," she responded smoothly, stroking the scar on his chest. "And I do believe it was no mistake…but correct me if I am wrong, if you please."

Erik's face flushed, and he dropped his eyes from hers. "It was no slip of the tongue," he said, finally. "You are love, to me."

Christine could have melted into him and disappeared. Was he even real? This complex, indignant spirit that swirled around hers; that filled her with such brilliance and hope, it was almost too much to bear?

"And you," she whispered, kissing the scar on his chest. "Are love, to me."

He chuckled, and his eyes began to fill with warmth once more. "Come, sweet love," he murmured, taking her by the hand. "I do not wish to be a man of self-loathing; but I fear that I have become…the essence of abhorrence. I must show you something."

Christine smiled as he led her away from the corner; away from the bottle that lay shattered in a feverish and littered explosion; the glass glittering like stars in the lamplight of the streets.

They walked for a while, taking in the warmth and solace of the night air. Erik directed them toward an alleyway that stood sizeable enough for throngs of men to linger in, but when he pulled her into it's dimly lit depths, Christine found it to be completely empty.

He released her hand and began unbuttoning the dark silk of his shirt. Her eyes widened at his large hands as they worked at the buttons deftly; yet she almost feared to see what lay underneath.

He let the silken fabric fall to the ground, a heap of ink stained in the dirt of the alley. She surveyed his naked chest, her mouth falling open at the multitude of scars that were pin pricked into the rigid muscles of his pectorals and shoulders. Erik's eyes did not leave hers as she took in the entirety of it; and she saw a peculiar circular brand underneath his left pectoral. Before she could ask about it, he began to turn around, slowly. Her eyes widened in shock and she cried out for the horrors that lay seething in the skin of his back; that lived upon the indents of sharp muscles and definition.

Beside the track marks of folded reds and pinks; old thrash marks that looked poorly healed, there was a word carved across the upper exterior of his back. The word was unfamiliar to her, but its crudeness shocked her and harmed her; she felt pain burst inside of her heart as her eyes read the word, over and over.

Teuflisch.

"What…what does it mean?" she whispered, fearing to even hear the words that would come from his mouth.

Erik turned around and faced her, his temples gleaming with beads of sweat. "Devilish," he responded softly. He bent down and picked up his shirt, pulling it over his body, sheltering the bitter scars from the wind. "It was another gift from my mother. My father saw it the day he took me away."

"Why…why would…why would she…" Christine stammered, unable to control the tears that pooled into her eyes. "You were but a child. An innocent child."

She began to cry for him, for his pain…for everything he had ever seen, for everything he had ever done. Christine fell to her knees then; begging God silently as her palms splayed into the dampness of the earth.

I will go where you want me to go…I will do what you want me to do…I will be who you wish me to be. Just heal this man, whom I love…standing in front of me…

"Christine," Erik's voice was in her ear, his arms lifting up her wilting form. "My dear…do not weep for me, please. I did not wish for you to see it only for it to cause you pain…"

She sobbed again, but this time she melted into his arms. "Don't you see? Oh, you impossible man. Whatever has pained you, pains me! I feel your pain as if it were my own. I…I cannot explain it but I…"

"You…you what?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

"I…it's because…I…I'm in love with you. I'm so deeply in love with you, Erik! And you still don't understand," her tears were falling freely, dribbling down her scarred and bitten up lips.

"Shhhh," he began to rock her in his arms, the gentle beginning of a sweet and ardent waltz. "I understand. I do understand. For I feel your pain as well. I felt it for the first time when I saw your eyes, desperate within the crowds of the market."

"You say that, but – "

"No," he murmured. "It is what drew me to you, your unfinished pain; the sadness that seethed beneath your flesh; a façade, a mask. But I could see it. You, upon your balcony. I could always see you. Always. And once I saw your face, it branded me…bewitched me. I could not stop seeing you. I was bound to you. And I feel that I always will be."

He wiped away the tears from her cheeks gingerly, and brushed her nose with his. It was the first time their faces had touched, when he had caught her…when she had jumped from her tower that ran to the edges of the forest…straight into the rising of the sun.

"Please…always be there to catch me," she whispered to him. "Just as you said; that knights never miss."

"Perhaps I lied," he purred, running his fingers through her hair. "For I had missed one thing."

"What is that, this thing you have missed?" she asked tearfully, bleeding into him as he held her close.

"Your love, your touch…the essence of you. And when I saw you I felt…suddenly, awake. As if I had been sleeping, my whole life…as if it were but a dream. A long, terror filled dream. But you touched me and I woke; you kissed me, and I lived."

And although her tears continued to fall, he scooped her up into his arms, curling her tighter into the strength of his being. And he carried her out of the alleyway as she burrowed against the crook of his neck. He carried her through the throngs in the street, through the lamplight that passed softly over her tears, her skin.

And as the night carried on with raucous laughter from the streets, Erik held her. As the night passed through, as he made the trek back to where his horse was tethered, he held her. And as the stars glimmered from above, and the Angels, unseen, leapt with fervent joy…he held her.

And the rest of the night, he listened to her, breathing. Her sweet breath of life that had awoken his spirit forever.

…

Author's Note: Thank you to all of my amazingly devoted readers, and my lurkers as well :) Comments and Feedback are always much appreciated!