A short, but perfectly formed chapter today. This was one of my favourites I've written and all from Christine's POV. I had no idea how much I enjoyed writing angst!
Not many reviews for the last chapter - I guess I deserve that for my abandonment of you guys for so long, plus the lack of E/C content, which is unforgivable - but I hope you enjoy this chapter. Only two more chapters to go, final and then the epilogue!
Christine had never been so angry in her life. She felt like the amount was so incalculable that if she kept it in any longer it would burst out of her like hot steam, as if she were in one of those cartoons she used to watch as a child.
The moment she'd woken up and found him gone had been a slap to the face. She blinked at the shocking sting that left her wondering what had just happened and how. Then the anger set in. Then the grief. His leaving had become a bereavement to her; just as acute as her father's had been. Instead, this time, it was accompanied by a guilt so incomprehensible it made her nauseous.
When her father had died it had almost been a relief; he had been ill for a long time, suffered every day, and as desperately as she wanted him to get better, she knew he wouldn't. But he didn't need to die. He had chosen to. For a second time. A hatred for herself, or for him, she couldn't be sure, bubbled up in her so hot and vicious that she couldn't breathe - all this misery because he had sacrificed himself for her. He had made her responsible for his actions when all she had wanted was for him to have stayed.
She hadn't been away from him for more than a day in many months and she felt the loss keenly. To try to sooth the pinch of his absence, she would lose herself in fantasies of his return. She lay in bed and imagined it many, many times; all the things she would say to him, how she'd pummel his chest with her small fists, scream at him, demand to know how he could have been so cruel, crying, begging to know why he had hurt her like this. Why shouldn't she make him feel as helpless and devastated as she was right now? Why should she subdue her anger for fear of inciting his? Why should she forgive him for tranquilising her so she couldn't even say goodbye?
Every time she remembered the way he sang to her, she felt a pain run through her, until she couldn't ache anymore; she just felt withered.
When she finally surfaced from her room, after awaking from her music induced slumber, she found Nadir at his usual spot in the kitchen, his face lined with worry. He tried to hide it from her, appear cheerful and breezy, but she saw through it in an instant.
"Shereen," he said liltingly, "You were asleep so long-"
"How long?" she interrupted tonelessly.
"Nearly a whole day."
Christine shambled over to the kitchen counter and sat down. Through the window she could see the sky was beginning to darken. She stared at the wooden countertop unseeingly. Nadir didn't take his eyes off of her.
"Tea?" he asked gently.
"No," she replied quickly. "Nothing."
Her eyes caught on some documents on the table which she hadn't seen before. Nadir followed her gaze. He pushed them towards her.
"They were delivered this afternoon...We're free citizens," he said softly. He produced a copy of Christine's real birth certificate along with some very official looking letters. "It seems someone is pulling strings for us; the Swedish government have granted us both asylum. Well, you were already born here, so…ah, what is the right word?" he thought for a moment; "Confirmed your citizenship?"
She saw there wasn't anything similar for him. What did that mean? Was he -? She tried to swallow down her worry and focus on what the letters meant.
"We don't have to hide anymore?" She breathed, barely able to believe it.
"No, shereen. We truly have our freedom."
Christine couldn't help it; she burst into tears.
The next morning, Christine somehow managed to find the energy to shower. After she'd broken down in the kitchen, Nadir had quickly taken her back to her room and laid her down to rest. She'd curled up in a ball and let the sobs rack her body, like she was trying to shake out a fever.
Her stomach and back ached from all the wrenching of her muscles. Nadir stayed with her and rubbed her shoulders, whispering soothing things in words she didn't understand. Eventually she must have fallen asleep again. When she awoke, it was dawn, Nadir had gone back to sleep in his room, and she felt worse than ever. Her eyes were itchy and dry, her hair matted and greasy.
She pulled herself up to sitting and took herself to the bathroom. The house was very quiet as she tiptoed through, unwilling to wake Nadir. Once in the bathroom, she stared at herself in the mirror. She saw the same girl who had arrived at the Invalides all those months ago – hopeless, thin, dirty and exhausted. She sighed and threw herself under the hot water. The shower made her skin come to life again, but the numbness in her chest remained. She washed herself clean, taking longer than she would have normally done, not wanting to leave the warmth nor the comforting embrace that the water gave her.
Finally, when she could no longer find a reason to stay there, she turned off the water. The problem was she couldn't find reason in doing much anymore.
She dried herself and her hair, and then changed into some clean clothes. When she returned to the kitchen, she took the food and drink that Nadir, now awake, but still in his pyjamas, wordlessly offered her. It was difficult to eat and swallow past the lump in her throat. The flavours didn't have their normal vibrancy. She knew she needed sustenance but she took no enjoyment from it.
Nadir tried to coax her into conversation but she didn't feel much like talking. She flicked through yesterday's newspaper and looked on the laptop to see what she could glean from the news channels, even though Nadir told her there was nothing. But there was news; Paris was being evacuated. A terrorist threat. The world was watching France. The more she read the more her stomach twisted and eventually she gave up, the worry and nerves making her shake.
Nadir suggested she tried to focus on something else, to write or read, but she didn't have the mental energy nor the concentration.
"A walk perhaps?"
Christine thought for a moment and then nodded. She stood up uneasily, taking her plate and mug to the sink. Nadir stood up too.
"No," she said firmly, "I'd like to go by myself."
"Shereen-" he began helplessly, but a quick shake of her head made him stop.
"I want to go alone," she said, careless to the man's anxiety.
"Christine, I promised him I would look after you while he was gone-"
Nadir jumped out of his skin as the plate and mug she was carrying crashed to the floor. "Then he shouldn't have left in the first place."
He couldn't stop her; she was already out of the door.
Christine walked to the small town nearby the cabin, trying distract herself with the goings on around her. Everything looked quiet and tranquil. The sun was doing its best to break through the clouds. The breeze swept through the trees and made the shaking branches sound like crashing waves.
As she approached the settlement, she came to a stop. Her mind reasoned with her that they were safe now – she and Nadir need no longer fear the law or hide themselves – and yet, she felt cautious. Years of hiding had taken its toll, made her skittish and untrusting around strangers. He'd wanted her to have this freedom, to enjoy it, to be happy, so she shouldn't worry anymore, she reasoned. Still, it tasted bitter in her mouth. Happiness seemed a long way off; it didn't feel real to her, nor worth the price it had cost.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and imagined how strange she must look to someone passing by; a young girl steeling herself to walk through a small gathering of buildings. She exhaled, opened her eyes and took one step forward, then another and another. And soon she was outside Una's shop.
After some haggling, Christine had managed to agree another two weeks rent of the cabin. She bought some food from her too, mostly chocolate and sweets, none of which she really felt like eating.
When she returned to the cabin, she put some of the items she'd bought away and went to find Nadir. He was in his room. She knocked gently on the partially open door and waited for him to answer.
Nadir's room in the cabin was a lot like hers; plain décor and simple furniture, but she noticed he was a lot tidier than she was. She explained to him what she had agreed with Una.
"This way we didn't have to panic or rush deciding what's next - and I'd hate for him to come back and..."
...find we're not here. She couldn't finish the sentence. The words stuck in her throat.
Nadir nodded carefully, weighing up what to say in his mind. She could see the pity in his eyes.
"Sounds sensible," he said finally. Christine sighed, annoyed with herself that she'd upset him and that he now thought he had to walk on eggshells around her.
"I'm sorry for before," she told him. "I was feeling dreadful."
She held out one of the bars of chocolate she had bought as a peace offering.
"Do you still feel dreadful?" he asked gently.
She tried not to cry as she nodded quickly. Nadir stood up from where he was sitting on the bed, pulled a blanket with him and wrapped it around her. He guided her back to the bed and they sat and talked for a little while. Nadir tried to cheer her up with suggestions of what they could do now the world was open to them again. Christine nodded and tried to listen but her mind wandered.
They spent the rest of the night eating a lot of chocolate. Nadir even managed to find a film on the laptop for them to watch. It was a comedy, but it wasn't the jokes making her cry.
The next day, Nadir made a concerted effort to try and distract Christine. They took off in the car, driving along the coastline and stopping to look at the small towns along the way. There wasn't a huge amount to do in them, but there was the occasional museum or attraction and Christine entertained herself reading the information boards back to Nadir so he could understand them.
They had to come back to the cabin eventually though, and when they did, and she saw the emptiness of it, the world seemed to crash down on Christine again. Nadir tried to do his best to keep her mind from worrying, but the more he tried, the more she shied away from him, removing herself from his company.
Christine sat down on the bench outside the cabin. It was sunset. She didn't feel her normal self; she didn't know if she would ever do so again. She felt like she was in limbo; being punished for something she had no idea she was guilty of. Another one of his torture chambers.
Another day without him was another day closer to giving up hope he would return. When would she be able to come to terms with it. How much longer could she live with the uncertainty? She wondered if she'd ever be able to eventually forget this pain she felt, but the idea seemed impossible. She knew, that everyday it would come back just as strong. A relentless tide of grief. She wished for it to disappear, just for a moment, a quick respite. And she resented the man who had brought it upon her.
She closed her eyes and pictured him in her mind's eye. She thought about the things that struck someone when they first looked at him - the mask and then the towering height, obviously. And then the secondary things – his golden eyes, such a strange shade of honey, and then if he spoke to you, the richness of his voice. That voice. Would she ever be able to hear him speak without a pang of betrayal? Would she ever be able to hear him again, full stop?
No one, apart from her, really saw past these characteristics. They never had the chance too. But if you peeled them away, there was a strong, intelligent, loving and thoughtful man, who while capable of deception, could not hide away his true self from her. She'd made him into a better man, that was what he had said to her. She'd made him into a man who'd leave her so that he could help others.
Maybe he wouldn't die trying. Either way, he had destroyed her in the process. She kept searching for the hope she felt before he left, the hope he'd told her was so powerful. But she couldn't find it. She was empty.
She closed her eyes and a solitary tear rolled down her cheek. If he ever came back, she'd bring down retribution on him, she promised herself. She'd make him understand how horrible this felt.
"Christine?" Nadir was calling to her softly. She opened her eyes and found her close by her side. It was darker now, she wondered just how long she'd be out here.
"What is it?" she asked, coming around.
"You mustn't upset yourself…" he began steadily, taking her hand in his own. Her heart froze. She looked up into his brown eyes and she didn't see grief. She saw ...relief. Her heart began to pump again, thudding hard against her ribs now. It fizzled with heat. She already knew what was coming. She wrenched her hand away from Nadir's and rushed back into the cabin, barely able to breathe, until -
He was there. Standing, arrogantly almost, in the middle of the kitchen, as if nothing had happened.
Her mind filled with images of all she wanted to do, of things she wanted to say, of promises she'd made to herself. She remembered everything he had put her through these last 72 hours and despite it – all her anger, her waves of grief, everything - fell away and in a few, short steps she was in his arms again. The moment she held him again, smelt that familiar scent, heard him moan an apology, she wept, she melted, she forgave.
"Christine," he whispered into her hair, his voice choked with emotion.
He was alive and he had come back to her, as had her hope.
"Erik. My Erik."
All will be revealed what happened to Erik next chapter. Until then, you'll just have to favourite and review!
