A/N: As you may have noticed, I have a passion for Greek mythology. Erik, in this story at least, shares my obsession.
This is another of my favorite chapters. More punishment for Christine up ahead, I'm afraid. (I haven't forgiven her yet.) Our Erik has a life that is moving along pretty well now, and he has discovered that he can in fact survive without Christine. You will note the Leroux reference toward the end. I understand his desperation in the novel, but I hate the idea of such a talented, brilliant man humbling himself as "a dog" at the feet of a foolish chorus girl, just because of his face. So, I will now exact my revenge on Christine for laying my Erik so low. In this chapter, Christine will get her own taste of what it means to humble herself and be denied, hence the title.
Ch. 28 – Forgiveness Denied
Despite the difficulty of her current situation, Christine could not help but delight in the room around her. The ceiling was high and vaulted, adorned by a stunningly beautiful series of paintings depicting scenes from Greek mythology. She could tell Erik had done the work himself. Somehow there was the same distinctive ethereal beauty to them that characterized everything he created. The walls of the room were lined with thousands of books on every subject. She had no doubt that during his lifetime, Erik would read them all. The furnishings were simple and elegant, and as she turned to see the rest of the room, her gaze was drawn to an enormous window that comprised one whole section of the room from floor to ceiling.
The window was situated in between two opposite sections of the wall, so it appeared as its own nook, comfortably nestled within the grandeur of the room. Tucked within the space was a cushioned window seat, and as Christine stepped closer, she could see that the view from the window was of the expansive gardens. She could picture herself there in that seat, enjoying a good book and gazing out into the garden. She imagined herself as Erik's wife and just for a moment, allowed herself to dream as she sat down arranging her billowing silver skirt around her and tucking her feet up beneath her as a small child would do. She grinned with pleasure. The space was a perfect fit for her.
Turning her attention to the window, she gasped in astonishment. The gardens were grand in their own right, but in the center was a vision that took her breath away. A large fountain consisting of several stunning classical human sculptures stood there, the focal point from her window. It was lit in the warm summer night, the water cascading in a golden stream into the sparkling pool below.
Her eyes blurred with tears. This was the real Erik - the Erik that had created this house. Erik was beauty and intelligence, sensitivity and passion, music and art. He was everything she could see so clearly around her. The rest of it, his anger and his violence, they were forced upon him by a world that had treated him with unbelievable cruelty. He had developed an iron-clad armor of hostility and sarcasm around his fragile soul in order to protect it from those would seek to destroy it. It pained her deeply that in his mind he counted her as being among them - someone he must protect himself from at all costs.
She stared out the window at the loveliness he had created, wishing more than anything to have a chance to be a part of his world once again. How could she ever convince him to trust her? She knew she had to try, no matter how difficult it might be. She could not bear life without him, especially now that she so clearly remembered everything about him that she adored.
Unnoticed, Erik had returned several moments earlier. He had needed a few minutes outside of her unnerving presence to regain his composure, and having calmed to the point where he felt capable of civilized conversation, he had returned. He had always moved with an uncommon grace, and she did not hear him reenter the room. He hadn't seen her immediately, but then he had noticed her tiny figure in the window seat at the opposite end of the room. The sight made his breath catch in his chest.
When he had designed this room, he had pictured her there with her feet tucked beneath her just as she used to sit in the window of the chapel at the opera house. He used to find her there sometimes sitting like that with her nose in a book, enjoying the peace and the view of the city below. She had confided to him once that although she loved the city, she often secretly pretended that her view was of a splendid garden with roses and trees and a beautiful fountain in the center.
He leaned his head against the doorway in defeat. What hope did he have to resist her? He had loved her for so long. He remembered every word she had ever spoken, every dream she had ever described to him, every gesture, every movement, every expression. And to see her there in the special spot he had made for her brought him so much joy, it was hard to find the will to fight it.
His anger had faded, but his hurt and uncertainty remained. He needed to know why she had come and what had happened between them years before. Still, he found it difficult to maintain his composure when he was too near to her, so he remained in the safety of the doorway. Everyone else had left, and he had sent the servants from the house for the night, so there was no fear of disruption. No, it was time to finally face the demons of the past. He cleared his throat to alert her to his presence.
Hearing a faint sound from behind her, Christine reluctantly turned her eyes away from the view through the window and searched the room for its source. At once, she noticed Erik in the doorway. His lithe frame rested easily against it, his arms crossed in front of him and the familiar half smirk curling his lips. He seemed to be either poised for battle or ready to flee depending on what the moment called for. Her eyes softened at the defensiveness of his posture.
She stood slowly meeting his eyes for the first time. Her voice was husky and moved with emotion, "Erik, you have created such beauty here. Really, it is beyond my comprehension. There are no words for it." Her eyes shone with tears, love and pride radiating in her voice. It stunned him for a moment, and when he finally responded it took every ounce of will he had to keep his expression unreadable and his voice casual. "It serves its purpose."
Christine moved toward him, but as he fought to maintain his control, he stopped her with his hand and gestured for her to sit on the leather sofa in the center of the room. Still leaning lazily in the doorway, his eyes burned into hers. His tone was one of cool detachment, "And now, Miss Daae, we arrive at the burning question: Why, after nearly three years, would you choose to show up uninvited at my engagement gala?"
Christine had been prepared for the question of why she had come, but her shock at the announcement of his impending engagement could not be hidden. Her eyes widened and filled with tears as she dropped her head. A wicked smile spread across his face as the carefully directed barb found its mark. Ahh, so she hadn't known, then. He delighted in the look of anguish on her face. Now she had had but a taste of the pain she had served him so easily when she had agreed to her engagement with the boy.
He was relishing this chance to hurt her, to punish her for what she had done, but there was still part of him that longed to hear her explanation, that hoped somehow she would be able to explain away all his doubts. Deep inside, he wanted more than anything to see her once again as his innocent angel, and not the manipulative Siren he had accused her of being earlier. So he waited, watching closely for her response.
Christine raised her eyes, and the obvious pain in them surprised him. Her voice was quiet, "So I am too late then?"
Taken aback by her question, he recovered quickly, raising an eyebrow and answering in a gentle mocking tone, "That all depends on what your intentions were in coming here, my dear. If your intention was to complicate my life even further than you already have, then I can assure you, mademoiselle, your timing could not have been more perfect."
She blushed, knowing it was true. She hadn't given any thought to the fact that he might have moved on, even if she hadn't. Her voice was quiet when she spoke again, but her eyes did not waver from his, "I am sorry Erik. I did not come here to cause any more pain to you. God knows I have caused you enough in the past."
Erik was once again thrown off balance by both her reply and her demeanor. He had been prepared for tears and hysterics, for pleading and begging and beguiling, but she had done none of those things. It occurred to him that somewhere over the course of the last three years, Christine had grown up. He didn't sense in her the same girlish games or helpless indecision of the past. She was distraught and in pain, he could clearly see that, and yet, she had not come undone in the face of his anger, his sarcasm, even his desire. This intrigued him, and he was momentarily unsure how to respond.
Leaving the safety of the doorway, he walked over to where she sat and took the chair opposite her. Taking a deep breath, he leaned over and gently turned her chin so that she was facing him. His gray-blue eyes were no longer threatening, now they merely questioned. His voice was gentle, "Christine, why are you here? Please, I need to know," he said simply, his eyes searching hers.
At the tenderness and uncertainty in his voice, her face softened, and she smiled sadly. Her eyes once again did not waver from his, and she allowed him to see in them all of her love and longing, whispering only, "Can you not see?"
Erik drew his hand away slowly, tensing, unable to believe what she was attempting to tell him. "No... no, no," he shook his head, "I can not go through this again, Christine. We have played this game before, and I am afraid I would not survive it a second time." He stood abruptly and walked away, finally stopping a few feet away with his back to her. His voice was cold and caustic once again, "Let's be honest, shall we? Your precious vicomte is gone and you are alone in the world with no one to coddle you and tell you how beautiful you are. You have lost your chance at a life of wealth and nobility, so now you have come to seek the fortune and the title you lost when your ridiculous boy went off and so selfishly got himself killed in the service of his country. And now you have come back to your angel, certain that if you bat your eyelashes and pout with those pretty lips he will come crawling back to you like the dog he was at your feet three years ago when you left him to die."
Even through the iciness of his voice, she could hear the raw emotion just under the surface. His words were unfair and cruel, and yet, she knew he had every reason to think all of those things after their last encounter. She fought hard to keep her calm in the face of his accusations. Mentally, she reminded herself that no matter how painful this conversation might be it could not hurt more than a lifetime without him. She would continue to fight for him, to reason with him and reassure him until he believed in her love.
With renewed resolve, she stood up and moved behind him. "Erik, I know that I hurt you terribly the last night we were together. I do not deny it and I offer no defense for it. But what you need to know is that on that night, after I left you, all I could think of was you – your touch, your voice, your kiss. I have spent three years in agony over the hurt I caused you, longing for you, knowing that I alone was the cause of my own unhappiness. Every night I spent singing to you from my balcony waiting for your voice to answer. Every night I lay down to horrible nightmares, replaying my betrayal over and over in my mind, seeing the pain in your eyes again and again as I stripped away your mask. When I believed you had died..." at this, her voice broke, but she continued in a whisper, "...that was when I knew without a doubt how irrevocably and hopelessly in love with you I truly was."
She could not see his face, but at her last words, she watched as his shoulders shook and his head hung forward. Encouraged, she went on, "I fought it Erik. But it had been there all along. I was young and scared. You utterly overwhelmed me with your passion, and with the passion you evoked in me that I was too inexperienced to understand. I ran away. I took what I thought was the safest road, and I have paid dearly for it. The look on your face that night has haunted me from the moment I left until this day. I have spent every night alone, aching for you there to hold me, to talk with me, to teach me as you once did." Her voice dropped again to a near whisper, "I know I do not deserve it Erik, but please forgive me. I was young and foolish and I have caused us both great suffering, but I have been nothing but faithful to you all these years. Please, Erik. I love you. I have always loved you..." Her voice trailed off and she reached for his arm, pleading with him silently to face her, but still he would not turn around.
They stood there like that for many moments, the tension and anguish nearly tangible in the air around them.
"You say you were faithful to me, and yet I know you were not. I read your engagement announcement myself," his tone was still guarded and she sighed, knowing her explanation would not be enough to satisfy him.
"When I believed you had died, I didn't think it mattered what happened to me. Raoul had been kind to me and I cared for him. I know it doesn't make any sense, but I couldn't bear to cause anyone any more pain, not after what I had done to you. And yet, when the time came to actually pledge myself to him before God, I couldn't do it." At this, she stepped around him, forcing him to face her. She reached her hand up to bring his eyes to meet hers. "I couldn't do it because I had already pledged myself before God to you. Even believing you were dead, I was willing to spend the rest of my life faithfully loving you, even with no hope of having your love in return."
Her hand gently brushed his cheek, attempting to soothe and reassure him. Her eyes fell on his lips, and her fingers strayed from his cheek to touch them, "And now that I know you are alive, I want nothing more than to spend every day earning that love that I so carelessly cast aside before, for I have learned what a true gift it was."
She could hold herself back no longer. She slid her hand around his neck and pulled his lips to hers. When their mouths met at last, it was as if a dam broke, years of love and longing spilling forth in a wave of unspoken emotion so strong it nearly knocked them both to their knees. Her hands were no longer shy and hesitant as they had once been, but bold and demanding, exploring with a raw, unbridled need that shocked Erik and ignited within him a matching fury. His mouth crushed hers, and yet the force of her mouth equaled his in every way. His hands tangled in her hair, slid down the satin skin of her back, gripped her waist and roughly pulled her body up against him. But her hands once again surpassed his own in their audacity, slipping inside his jacket to tug at the tail of his shirt. Succeeding in pulling it loose, she slid her hands inside to savor the delicious feel of his muscular chest and stomach.
Erik groaned softly. This was madness. He wasn't certain anymore who was accosting whom, and yet he was powerless to stop it. His hands were everywhere on her body, molding it to him and reveling in every inch of her smooth flesh and womanly curves. The raging fire in his blood was building to an inferno so intense it made him light-headed. He brought his mouth to her neck and tasted the hollow of her collar bone, feeling her quick intake of breath at the contact. Her arms roughly slid off his jacket and her hands began undoing the buttons of his shirt with a deftness that surprised him. Christine seemed an innocent no longer. If anything, her need seemed nearly to surpass his own. She touched him as if she could not make herself believe he was real, as if she had to feel every inch of him beneath her demanding hands before she would accept that he was alive and there before her. As the last button gave way, she splayed her palms against the sculpted wall of his chest, and moved to slide it from his body, but he froze suddenly and grasped her hands in his own, stilling them abruptly.
Christine looked up into his face in confusion, her lips swollen from his kisses, her eyes glazed with desire, silently begging him to take her. He dropped her hands, and took a step back from her, willing his breathing and heartbeat to return to a pace that allowed him the capacity for speech. He would not look at her, but his voice was low and angry when he spoke at last, "You will find, mademoiselle, that I am not as blind to your manipulations as I once was. I have worked very hard and endured more than you can imagine over the last three years to be where I am at last, and I am not willing to risk it all for your fleeting affections. There are many women now who would gladly consent to sharing my life and my bed." He watched her flinch at his last statement with cruel satisfaction. "I am no longer a dog at your feet, Christine. I was content before you returned, and I will be content once again after you leave." It was a lie, but he knew she would believe it after he had thrust her so coldly from him.