Disclaimer: Beware! Beware! Nathaniel Hawthorne is receiving credit! As much as I hate to subject Christine and Erik to the horror and torture that is The Scarlet Letter, I just couldn't resist this one scene…. It was too perfect!
A/N: *shrieks with glee* Oh you guys have made me so happy! I'm thrilled that so many people are enjoying reading this!!
LadyLupin and Phantom of the Fox: *cough cough* yup, we are all indeed thinking of the same scene from charles dance *cough cough* lol, :)
Riene: I love you! Thank you so much for your comments :)
Soldier of Darkness: My devoted reader, thanks so much
Fantome: Thank you for pointing out my errors, I have no knowledge of the language at all, lol. They will be fixed soon, hopefully. And thank you so much for your reviews! They totally made my day and inspired me to really get a move on with this chapter! And I'm glad you liked that susan kay reference! Hopefully everyone caught on because I just loved that. And Madame Giry is my fav character! Of course I wouldn't forget her! I'm obsessed with her and Erik's relationship! :)
Thank you to all my other reviewers, you guys rock my world: L.M., Phantomgurl33, Mel, Florence, and coolgirlgray!
Ok, enough bantering, let's get on with it. Warning: this chapter is completely devoted to E/C fluff, next chapter will be completely devoid of it so stock up now! lol :)
Erik did not sleep that night. There had to be some explanation to Christine's erratic behavior. Some reason… Of course she had been struggling terribly since Raoul's death, but somehow he didn't think that this would push Christine to harm herself.
The next morning Christine did not come to breakfast and Erik was content to leave her alone for the time being. However, he wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. Christine had been staying with him for quite awhile now…yet they were still so distant. They couldn't seem to bridge the communication gap and Erik was growing weary of it.
After nearly ten minutes of picking at his food, in deep thought, he came to the conclusion that he wasn't hungry and cleared his plate from the table.
He wandered into the music room. He walked past the piano, brushing his fingers over the keys as he went, and over to the far side of the room. The back wall contained several massive bookshelves, each completely full of books, all of them organized carefully. He ran his fingers over the spines as he studied the titles. He wasn't sure he was in the mood to read, but something drew him to the books. He turned to his novels. Hugo, Dumas, Verne…Verne, he loved to read those novels, they were amazing. He scanned the titles. Journey to the Centre of the Earth, The Adventures of Captain Hatteras, From the Earth to the Moon… He continued to one of his prized possessions. A copy of Five Weeks in a Balloon. It had never been published, but had fallen into Erik's hands some years ago. Publishers claimed that it was too scientific. Erik didn't understand how they came to that conclusion.
He began to draw the book off of the shelf when he heard the door close behind him. He swung around to see Christine standing just inside the room.
"May I join you?" she inquired timidly.
"Of course," Erik said, gesturing towards the divan. "I was just selecting a book."
"Will…will you read to me Erik?" Christine asked.
"If you wish. You may choose a book if you like."
Christine walked over to him and pulled a book off the shelf. She handed it to him, then turned and seated herself on the divan.
Erik followed her, hesitated, then seated himself beside her.
He looked at her selection. The Scarlet Letter. He had only read it once before. It was an American novel that had sparked his interest, as did nearly every book in existence.
He opened the book and began to read. His voice turned the story into a beautiful song filled with the sounds of sadness, love, and betrayal. Christine could see it played out in front of her as Erik's voice wrapped her in a cocoon of warmth and joy. She forgot everything and concentrated on the beauty of it all.
She unconsciously moved closer to him as he read. Her head looking slightly over his shoulders to the pages of the book. His voice lifted her even higher and she grasped his arm. The song Erik created seemed to miss a beat, but just one as he continued on.
" 'Hester,' said he, 'I ask not wherefore, nor how, thou has fallen into the pit, or say, rather, thou hast ascended to the pedestal of infamy on which I found thee. The reason is not far to seek. It was my folly, and thy weakness. I—a man of thought, the bookworm of great libraries—a man already in decay, having given my best years to feed the hungry dream of knowledge—what had I to do with youth and beauty like thine own! Misshapen from my birth-hour, how could I delude myself with the idea that intellectual gifts might veil physical deformity in a young girl's fantasy!' "
Erik felt his throat constricting as he read. He glanced at Christine who was enraptured. He stared at her hand, which rested on his arm, her fingers absently tracing intricate patterns on his sleeve.
She looked up after a moment when she realized he had stopped reading. She looked into his eyes and saw the sadness that had formed within. Without thinking she lifted her hand to his cheek.
"Keep reading," she said softly.
He closed his eyes and released a deep breath as the warmth from Christine's fingers penetrated the mask. He tore his gaze away from her and looked back to the book, still savoring the feeling of her hand.
" 'Nay, from the moment when we came down the old church steps together, a married pair, I might have beheld the bale-fire of that scarlet letter blazing at the end of our path!'
'Thou knowest,' said Hester—for, depressed as she was, she could not endure this last quiet stab at the token of her shame—'thou knowest that I was frank with thee. I felt no love, nor feigned any.' "
Christine's grip on Erik's arm tightened slightly and he continued.
" 'True,' replied he. 'It was my folly! I have said it. But, up to that epoch of my life, I had lived in vain. The world had been so cheerless! My heart was a habitation, large enough for many guests, but lonely and chill, and without a household fire. I longed to kindle one! It seemed not so wild a dream—old as I was, and sombre as I was, and misshapen as I was—that the simple bliss, which is scattered far and wide for all mankind to gather up, might yet be mine. And so, Hester, I drew thee into my heart, into its innermost chamber, and sought to warm thee by the warmth which thy presence made there!'
'I have greatly wronged thee,' murmured Hester.
'We have wronged each other,' answered he. 'Mine was the first wrong, when I betrayed thy budding youth into a false and unnatural relation with my decay. Therefore, as a man who has not thought and philosophized in vain, I seek no vengeance, plot no evils against thee. Between thee and me, the scale hangs fairly balanced. But, Hester, the man lives who wronged us both.' "
At this Christine stood abruptly, knocking the book in Erik's hands to fall to the floor. She walked a few paces away and hugged her arms across her chest with her back to Erik who remained on the divan. Perhaps that was enough reading for today.
Erik stood slowly and saw Christine's shoulders shaking.
"Christine?" he said gently.
She turned to face him, tears gliding gracefully from her eyes.
Erik paused and decided to take the chance. He brought his hand up and delicately brushed the tears from her cheeks. She shivered at his touch and he quickly dropped his hand and turned away.
"Erik," she said, stopping him.
He turned back to her.
"Why do you pull away from me so?" she asked quietly.
"You do not need to be subjected to my touch," he said evenly.
"Do I disgust you?" she whispered fearfully.
Erik's face contorted at her words. "Oh Christine, how could you say something like that?"
"Why do you pull away from me?" she repeated.
Erik hesitated, then ventured bravely. "You…want me…to touch you?"
"Please don't pull away from me Erik," she said as she stepped forward to close the gap between them.
Erik openly gaped at her, not knowing what to think, what to say, what to do. He watched as she reached out her hand for his. He wanted to return the gesture, to grasp her small hand in his own. She was inches away. All he had to do was lift his hand, just a little.
And he did. He felt his arm move slowly upward, it felt as if he had a string attached to it and a puppeteer was lifting it for him. His fingers touched hers. In an instant their hands clasped and Christine calmly led him to the divan where they sat down together. Christine curled her feet up onto the divan beside her and rested her head on Erik's shoulder.
He forced himself to breathe calmly. He concentrated on each breath. Within minutes he could feel his body relaxing and he relished in the contact between them.
"I can't stand this silence between us anymore Erik," she whispered.
He sighed, knowing she did not mean their silence at this time. "I love you Christine," he said gently.
There was a pause. She longed to say that back to him. But she didn't dare, not now… "I know," she said.
He did not know how long they sat that way. Erik stared into the fire, wondering whether this was really happening. He sat in a daze, almost as if he were sleeping with his eyes open. He shook himself out of it when he heard the clock chime softly from the mantle. He looked down at Christine. She had fallen asleep.
Erik released her fingers and brought his hand up to brush her hair away from her face, his fingers gently brushing her cheek as he did so. He paused. She was asleep, she wouldn't know, if he just… He stretched out his fingers and touched the cool, soft skin of his face; he caressed it softly for a moment, then quickly drew his hand away.
He slowly took her weight off of him so that he could stand, then lifted her easily into his arms and took her to her room. Erik laid her body gently on the bed, and then stood back to watch her for a moment. She was so beautiful. Her face relaxed and carefree in her sleep. Her rich brown curls spread over the pillow, encircling her face. She was an angel.
Erik crept quietly from the room and into the sitting room. He looked up at the clock. She would probably awake before nightfall, it was quite early. But for now she could sleep. He seated himself in his wingback chair by the fire to think about what had just happened, and to wait for Christine to awaken.
A/N: Sorry so short. Please review! I love all of your comments!! All helpful criticisms are most appreciated. :)
A/N again: Did you guys notice all that hardcore Jules Verne research I did??? Lol :P