A/N: Here we go ladies the romancing had begun.....Tell me how you like
it....please
Erik was staring at nothing. It had been only a few hours since he had held Christina in his arms as she wept bitterly. It was as if she was releasing the tension of the past weeks and months. Her small frame had shaken with sobs. All he could do was hold her. Her smooth pale skin had felt like silk. He had not touched a human being for many years other than the night he had grabbed Christina's wrist. He had tried to be gentle with her, but he was a man who had no experience at being gentle. He remembered how her blonde curls had fallen down from the bun, and had lain forlornly against the stark black cloth of her dress. She had sunk slowly down until she lay in a heap at his feet after she had finished singing. He had bent down to comfort her. Tears had poured out, and she lay inconsolable in his arms. Finally she could cry no more, and the sobs had reduced to tiny hiccups. Her eyes were closing in exhaustion, her lashes gleaming wet. Her body relaxed, and her breathing became even. He looked down at her. She looked so helpless and so forlorn. Like a rose hanging on limply in a hailstorm.
"Christina," He whispered not wanting to wake her. She would be happy if only for a little while in her dreams. Now in the present he was still cradling her close to him. He had not moved from his spot on the hard stone floor for two hours. He did not want to make her leave her peaceful dreams. He glanced down at her face. She looked like a beautiful china doll. Her face was so pale and her lips were naturally pink. Her curly blonde hair accented her face and made her look other-worldly, almost angelic. His Angel of Music...
Christina's first conscious thought was wondering where she was. She felt soft velvet material against her cheek. She slowly opened her eyes, she was lying in someone's arms. Erik. Her mind was instantly alert. She could not see him. His eyes were closed, as if he was also sleeping. His back was leaning against a wall. They had not moved from the spot where she had crumbled into tears. Foolish girl. Could she not control her emotions? No she could not. No one who had not lost someone close could even begin to comprehend her grief. Erik could understand better than she. He had been through the shadows of hell and come out, seemingly unscathed. But she knew better. His mind had been thrust into a nose dive of never ending pain. The tortures of his mind were too complex for her to understand. She could feel his chest rise and fall peacefully. Even in her grief she realized something had changed, something had transpired while she had been away. She felt a connection with him that had never been there before. His arms were cradling her delicately, and his hand was slipped into her palm. She spread her fingers against his and examined it. His hand was cold, but then it always had been. She turned his palm gently around to inspect it with her fingers. Unbeknownst to her he was gazing down at her silently. His eyes had always been of curiosity to her. Christina had told her about Erik's eyes. His left eye was a clouded transparent pearl coloring surrounded by his mask. His right eye was a blue color that looked like a marble with grey mixed in. Erik had become her world, the only thing she had left. She felt something stirred in her heart.
Christina was listless at home. Not willing to eat very much or sleep for that matter. The servants were beside themselves with worry about her deteriorating health. Never had she seemed so distant to anyone before. Not even reading her favorite books out loud to her seemed to sooth her soul. Carlotta sensed her mistress's mood and could not be consoled she ran around howling which echoed loudly in the empty halls.
Erik had never felt so helpless about a situation. He sensed Christina was in turmoil, still grieving over the loss of her grandparents. He glanced around at his surroundings. He was sitting in Box 5. Miraculously it seemed preserved from thieves, and the gold paneling around the railing was still intact. The rumors about the Phantom of the Opera's favorite box had circled around France faster than he had anticipated. He smiled slowly. His thoughts turned back to Christina. Her voice had been excellent; it would shame the gaudy and shrieky voice Carlotta had exhibited. She had not been fit to walk the stage after Christine had lifted her voice there. The thought of Christine did not haunt him anymore, but the thought of Christina did. Not in a torturous way, but like honey the thought dripped in and stuck. He thought of her all the time...Christina...
Erik was staring at nothing. It had been only a few hours since he had held Christina in his arms as she wept bitterly. It was as if she was releasing the tension of the past weeks and months. Her small frame had shaken with sobs. All he could do was hold her. Her smooth pale skin had felt like silk. He had not touched a human being for many years other than the night he had grabbed Christina's wrist. He had tried to be gentle with her, but he was a man who had no experience at being gentle. He remembered how her blonde curls had fallen down from the bun, and had lain forlornly against the stark black cloth of her dress. She had sunk slowly down until she lay in a heap at his feet after she had finished singing. He had bent down to comfort her. Tears had poured out, and she lay inconsolable in his arms. Finally she could cry no more, and the sobs had reduced to tiny hiccups. Her eyes were closing in exhaustion, her lashes gleaming wet. Her body relaxed, and her breathing became even. He looked down at her. She looked so helpless and so forlorn. Like a rose hanging on limply in a hailstorm.
"Christina," He whispered not wanting to wake her. She would be happy if only for a little while in her dreams. Now in the present he was still cradling her close to him. He had not moved from his spot on the hard stone floor for two hours. He did not want to make her leave her peaceful dreams. He glanced down at her face. She looked like a beautiful china doll. Her face was so pale and her lips were naturally pink. Her curly blonde hair accented her face and made her look other-worldly, almost angelic. His Angel of Music...
Christina's first conscious thought was wondering where she was. She felt soft velvet material against her cheek. She slowly opened her eyes, she was lying in someone's arms. Erik. Her mind was instantly alert. She could not see him. His eyes were closed, as if he was also sleeping. His back was leaning against a wall. They had not moved from the spot where she had crumbled into tears. Foolish girl. Could she not control her emotions? No she could not. No one who had not lost someone close could even begin to comprehend her grief. Erik could understand better than she. He had been through the shadows of hell and come out, seemingly unscathed. But she knew better. His mind had been thrust into a nose dive of never ending pain. The tortures of his mind were too complex for her to understand. She could feel his chest rise and fall peacefully. Even in her grief she realized something had changed, something had transpired while she had been away. She felt a connection with him that had never been there before. His arms were cradling her delicately, and his hand was slipped into her palm. She spread her fingers against his and examined it. His hand was cold, but then it always had been. She turned his palm gently around to inspect it with her fingers. Unbeknownst to her he was gazing down at her silently. His eyes had always been of curiosity to her. Christina had told her about Erik's eyes. His left eye was a clouded transparent pearl coloring surrounded by his mask. His right eye was a blue color that looked like a marble with grey mixed in. Erik had become her world, the only thing she had left. She felt something stirred in her heart.
Christina was listless at home. Not willing to eat very much or sleep for that matter. The servants were beside themselves with worry about her deteriorating health. Never had she seemed so distant to anyone before. Not even reading her favorite books out loud to her seemed to sooth her soul. Carlotta sensed her mistress's mood and could not be consoled she ran around howling which echoed loudly in the empty halls.
Erik had never felt so helpless about a situation. He sensed Christina was in turmoil, still grieving over the loss of her grandparents. He glanced around at his surroundings. He was sitting in Box 5. Miraculously it seemed preserved from thieves, and the gold paneling around the railing was still intact. The rumors about the Phantom of the Opera's favorite box had circled around France faster than he had anticipated. He smiled slowly. His thoughts turned back to Christina. Her voice had been excellent; it would shame the gaudy and shrieky voice Carlotta had exhibited. She had not been fit to walk the stage after Christine had lifted her voice there. The thought of Christine did not haunt him anymore, but the thought of Christina did. Not in a torturous way, but like honey the thought dripped in and stuck. He thought of her all the time...Christina...