Disclaimer: Me? Own this? –bursts out in hysterical laughter-
A/N: Just a little note for y'all: Buquet isn't exactly dead. He's in intensive care, remember? This is high school, after all; a murder is, while not impossible, a bit of a stretch. …not that this whole story isn't a bit of a stretch. Woah, rambling, sorry. On with the chap!
Christine was pacing. Back and forth she went, wearing a charming indentation into the tile of the choir hallway.
"Come on, how long can one freakin' interrogation take?" she growled, impatiently shoving a long strand of dark hair off of her forehead. "Damn it!" she added, simply because she could.
Meg, who was seated on the ledge near the chain of windows, lifted her head out of her hands just long enough to throw a sharp glare and a small ruler at her friend. "You aren't helping, you know," she snarled back.
Injured and annoyed, Christine rubbed her head where the ruler had hit and scowled more deeply.
"You are really bad at being sympathetic," she complained.
"Well, maybe if you'd just sit down and shut up for a minute…"
The door to the choir room opened, cutting off Meg's irritated words. Christine whirled around and nearly smacked into a very tired-looking Madame Giry.
"What's going on?" the teen demanded, ignoring the way her teacher winced at the sudden burst of sound. "Why are they talking to Erik? Why would they think he had anything to do with this?"
Madame rubbed her temples. "Christine, the officers got an anonymous tip this morning that Erik was seen at the beach. What else were they supposed to think?"
"Do they…they don't think he…" Christine was having trouble stringing a coherent sentence together. Madame lightly patted her arm.
"He's not off the hook yet, but they aren't going to haul him in in handcuffs either. Calm down…did you take my advice and have some sugar?"
Meg jerked her head out of her hands again. "Some sugar?" she repeated in a voice dangerously void of sanity. "Some! Mom…she consumed three cups of coffee! Three! And a doughnut!"
Madame twitched visibly. "Christine, we were only in there for twenty minutes. When did you find time to drink three cups of pure caffeine? More importantly, what possessed you to?"
Christine resumed her frantic pacing. "I think better with caffeine in me," she explained, sounding more than a little bit like she'd gone round the bend. "And if I don't think about this…well, my head will probably explode and that's not a sight anyone wants to see. It was either coffee or call a janitor with a large bucket and a mop."
"How…delightful." Madame sighed. "Anyway, they've finished with Erik for the moment. You can go down to see him, if you like; he's down in his room again."
Christine blew past her as soon as the sentence was complete. Meg shook her head in amazement.
"The girl is a lunatic," she muttered.
"I am not!" Christine yelled back even as she flew through the choir room and down the stairs. Without bothering to knock first, she flung herself through Erik's door and into his arms.
If Madame Giry had looked tired, Erik looked simply exhausted. His mouth was more drawn than usual and the skin Christine could see beneath the familiar shadow was pale. Pulling back to look more closely, she spotted a spattering of discolorations against the light flesh—bruises.
Without thinking, she grasped his face tenderly between her hands, running her thumbs across his cheeks. They were wet, she noticed, with tears.
"You're crying."
"Nothing gets past you." He attempted a smile. She brushed her fingers against the expression, feeling his breath hitch once again. His lips parted under her touch, but other than that, he did not respond.
"What do you think is going to happen?" she asked, trying to focus her mind on the billions of questions bounding through her head.
"I have no idea," he whispered, closing his eyes to block out the look of pain on her face. Her hands continued to move gently against the lower half of his face; he resisted the urge to pull back. Something told him that she wouldn't hurt him…and this something, whatever it was, seemed to be stronger than eighteen years of instinct.
"Erik…" There had been a thought there, of that she was certain. However, the image of him standing there, eyes closed, breathing heavily, kind of took away any ability she had for rational thinking.
Screw rationality.
She raised herself up, holding his face more gingerly than ever as she carefully pressed her mouth against his. She tasted tears and pulled him closer, sliding one hand around the back of his skull to better brace herself.
Erik gave a very tiny moan of surprise, but did not fight her. This was what he'd been waiting for forever, it seemed, to be touched with no fear, no horror…no anger. He relished the sensation of her warm mouth sliding against his own, wrapping both arms around her waist and holding her closer to his body.
She pulled back, unexpectedly, and he gave a little sound of protest. She smiled, leaning her forehead against his own clothed one and placing a hand against his cheek.
"Erik, we need to talk about this, you know."
"About what?" It was becoming difficult for him to focus. Couldn't she see that?
"About what happened last night. To you, with your father." She looked serious. He sighed, releasing her and taking a few halting steps backward to lean his weight against his desk. "You just aren't going to leave this one alone, are you?"
She smiled. "Nope. It'd be better for both of us if you'd just talk to me now and get it out of the way so we can return to more…pleasurable activities." Her eyebrows lifted suggestively. He grinned down at his shoes.
"Promise?"
"Hey, would this face lie to you?"
Erik shook his head in amusement and patted the very small space on the desk beside him invitingly. Christine backed away.
"Uh uh, buddy, not happening," she argued. He raised an eyebrow inquisitively and she added, "I know that trick. You'll lure me over there with a puppy-dog gaze and the promise of talk, and then you'll distract me with the inhuman power of your lips."
He snorted, withholding his laughter as best he could. "Inhuman power of my lips?"
"I refuse to be intoxicated," she told him wisely. "I'll stay over here while we chat, thank you very much."
Sighing, Erik muttered, "Damn, thwarted again."
"Womanly instincts, buster, learn to live with it." Sobering considerably, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Come on, spill."
"I told you already, my father's a jerk," Erik said stonily. "He's a drunken son of a bitch who hits me just because he can. Sometimes he brings his work buddies over and they take turns, make a game out of it: first person to make Erik cry doesn't have to buy the beer for a week. Is this what you really want to know, Christine? Are you really so interested in me that you'll take on my shit on top of whatever problems you have?"
"Yes," she answered with no hesitation. "Erik…"
"When I was a little kid, my mom left," he went on as if he hadn't heard her at all. "No explanation to me, just some screaming, a few tears, and a suitcase. She didn't even hug or kiss me goodbye. I think I was three and she just couldn't take it.
"I don't think I was a bad kid. I mean, sure, I made some mistakes. Accidentally flushed my goldfish before they were really ready to go, wrote on my walls with her make-up, went klepto on the cookie jar. Kid stuff. Most moms wouldn't up and leave for kid stuff. But there was something else wrong with me…something that's been pushing people away all my life. Christine, why do you think my father hits me?"
"Because he's scum and he should die," was her instant, passionate reply. Erik smiled bitterly.
"Well, there's that. But there's something else...Christine, I've never told anyone this. Not by choice. I had to show the cops; they were going to arrest me and have it taken care of anyway if I didn't. And Madame Giry found out once, when I was about five. She saw me playing on the swings in that park after dark and came over to see why a little boy was out alone at night. She's the only one who has ever pitied me enough to take some action in my life. Well…besides you, anyway." His smile grew slightly fonder. "She introduced me to this place, taught me how to read and do basic math when my idiot father refused. And when she found me sneaking in to play with the piano, she exclaimed over my apparent genius and supplied me with an instrument of my very own. Told me I was a child prodigy."
Christine smiled back; this came as no surprise to her, not after hearing him go to town on the instrument.
"She's the only one who cared," he continued. "Nobody else wanted anything to do with me."
"Why not?" Christine asked. "What was so bad about you? You sound like you were a really sweet kid."
He smirked. "Sweet doesn't help much in this world, my dear. Or haven't you noticed that the sweet ones are usually the ones who get their heads shoved under fences at recess?"
Christine moved closer to him. "Why did they—"
"All hate me? Because I'm a freak, Christine. Mentally, I am as sound as I can be. Emotionally, I'm just a man who wants to be loved and accepted. But physically…"
"What?" she pressed gently when he paused. She came to stand directly in front of him, trying in vain to see his eyes behind the shadow he always masked his expression with.
"Why do you think I wear this hood?" he cried suddenly. "Do you think I hide my face because I find it amusing? I do it because I'm a total freak. That's why my mother left. That's why my father uses me as a human punching bad. That's why not one person in this school has ever bothered to say so much as a simple hello. I am disgusting."
Christine looked him over very seriously. Then, delicately, she slipped her arms around his neck and drew him to her, bending her head down so she could comfortably meet his lips.
He tried to retreat. "Christine, you don't want this, trust me—"
She yanked him back against her lips, kissing him with more fervor. "How," she asked around a series of quick, intense kisses, "do you—know what—I want?"
"Because I—um…" He blinked up at her, mouth slightly open. "What was I saying? I'm sure I had a point…"
She grinned smugly. "See? Females do hold supreme power over the men-folk."
He got up, towering over her. "Do you?"
"Yes we do."
He lightly cupped her chin, tilting her head back. "You may want to rethink that statement," he murmured, brushing his mouth against the hollow of her throat. She drew in a sharp breath, grabbing his arms to steady herself.
"This is…so…mm…unfair," she gasped. He grinned against her flushed skin, feeling very pleased with himself.
"It is, isn't it?" He continued his ministrations, trailing light kisses up and down her neck. She arched against him, trying to regain control.
"So…totally…unfair."
"Mm hmm." He chuckled, his breath warming her skin. She shivered and grabbed his face, crushing his mouth against hers. He responded in kind, then pulled back. "I still think you should think this over. I mean, it's not a very stable period in my life right now and there's this whole matter of disfi—mmph!"
She had silenced him once again. This time, he didn't bother trying to break free.
A/N: Good God, that took a long time to time. Sorry I haven't been going on mad updating sprees as of late, I've been a bit busy…and very tired. On the plus side, I finally leapt into the fluff! –cheers for self- Also, I have a pretty good outline of how the plot's going to go.
Review Replies:
Linds- Enthralled? –swoons at awesome word-
midnightangel38- Mm, Christine is seventeen, which would make her either a junior or a senior. I've always pictured junior myself, so let's go with that. Can't make her the same age as Erik. –winks-
Alixy-points up at chapter and grins, feeling very self-satisfied- How's that? As for the baseball-bat-meets-Raoul…I don't hate him that much. However, what you do when I'm not looking is totally beyond my control…
Nade-Naberrie-smiles- I love tying my readers in knots.
SmileVampy- Abandon this fic? Are you kidding me? I'd get murdered if I left it now!
Awoman- lol, ah, criticism. I'll try to take this well…-sniffle- Kidding. I appreciate it and I sort of learned from it as I say…somewhere up there in that pile of fluff.
AFireInside-xx- Ah! No dying! DYING IS AGAINST THE RULES!
phantomsangel102- Wow, uh…hi. Read the whole thing, please? –grins-
ENTR'ACTE- Hey, if you had yourself a sexy Erik, you'd cling too. –winks-
Christie- Me? Enjoy messing with your heads? Why ever would you think such a thing? –evil laughter-
AMLisdabomb-glances up at chapter- I think she acted.
And to anyone I missed (especially Aki T, since I always seem to skip you, sorry), I LOVE YOU ALL AND I'M SORRY THAT MY MAIL SYSTEM'S WEIRD! –throws candy- Be cheerful and enjoy the happy sap that was this chapter!