Sixteen
Nadir came out of the room wherein Erik had lain so long asleep, surprising a reflective Christine who had been staring at the still-closed grate and the placid surface of the lake. She turned to him, a question evident in her eyes.
He nodded.
"He is ready— it is time."
Christine gulped in air, trying to soothe the pounding of her heart, the sudden roaring in her ears. Nadir held out a hand to her— she took it, fingers shaking, muscles quivering, and he led her into the other room, led her to her Erik.
The words spoken in that simple ceremony would not have been memorable to anyone but the two who stared at each other with wide-awake eyes. Nadir was not an eloquent man, but in a time like this eloquence was not required, or even requested. He spoke the important words— they repeated after him, Erik's voice broken and nervous, Christine speaking with a beautiful serenity that did not betray the turmoil she felt inside.
When it was over, Nadir joined their hands together and bowed his head.
"What God has yoked together, let no man put apart—"
"Till death," said Erik.
"Till death," said Christine.
Nadir left soon after, wending his way back up to the surface, leaving behind two souls who found themselves at last in a certain kind of peace.
And there was left before them nothing— and everything— and the night.
Erik looked up as Christine re-entered the room, having bathed in the lake. He had an hour ago washed the dust and grime from his body, and they stood before each other shining clean, almost reborn. He looked hollow, his face gaunt, his eyes haunted. She longed to fill him, take away his pain, but first there was a delicate matter which she felt she must attend to.
"You told me our child would die. Why?" she asked quietly. "Why would you threaten me like that?"
He shook his head, sorrow and long-pent-up longing in his face. "Not a threat— a warning—"
She tilted her head to look at him. "A warning— not a prophecy?"
"No— only a deadly fear." He shivered. "It cripples me to think of you hurt, Christine."
She smiled blissfully, closed her eyes. "You will not hurt me, Erik. Nothing you can do will hurt me, except forget me. Come here."
He did, slowly, hesitant, even now fearing rejection. It broke her heart to see him so afraid. She reached out and took his hand, drew him down on the bed beside her.
They held each other close for a while, before she drew away to undo the laces of her nightgown. He closed his eyes fast as she removed it.
"Erik."
He shook his head but would not look up.
"Erik, look at me—"
She pressed her lips to his closed eyelids, and he sighed softly. When her fingers began to undo his buttons, he pushed them away.
"Erik!" She gripped his hands tight. "I am your wife, Erik— and I have my rights."
His breath left him in a gasp.
"My wife," he said. "My wife— Christine, love— heart— breath— lifeblood—"
It terrified her to be here with him. She put it aside. Now nearly naked, he shivered, and she drew him close, warming him with her heat.
"Erik, know that I will never leave you."
The tears began.
Abandon sanity—
Abandon madness, Erik—
Abandon thought—
He was crying and trembling too hard to manage on his own, and finally she reached down and guided him. His cheek was hard against hers, his breath in her ear as he prayed and begged deliverance, acceptance, forgiveness from her, from God, from everyone.
And then she could no longer hear him; but it didn't matter. Her eyes were closed and his voice was inside her— a part of her.
The pain and the joy of it melded the broken pieces of their hearts together.
She dreamed that he left her side and returned to sleep in his coffin alone— the only place he felt he belonged— but when she awoke, he lay still beside her, breathing quietly. She was mesmerized by the slow rise and fall of his chest, by the innocence of his tear-stained face.
He was still here— drawn from his solitary madness by the strength of her love.
He awoke to find her staring down at him. She rewarded his awakening with a smile and a kiss.
"You belong to me," she said, "and I to you."
He nodded, his face pressed against her skin. She wrapped her arms about him, held him close.
"Christine," he whispered into her throat. "Sing for me."
The flutter of her pulse under his lips made his own heart quicken; underneath his hand he felt her heartbeat, regular, steady, pounding for him. He was so happy— he thought he would die of happiness—
For a silent and desperate moment his spirit flickered.
But life lingered.
His breath strengthened.
She sang for him, and Erik breathed her in. His long fingers moved over her arms, trailed down her breast and over her belly, feeling the flutter of life deep within, caressing, soothing—
Orchestrating—
Playing his last, most perfect instrument.
On the other side of the wall, the organ sat silent, listening.
After a time, Erik's voice joined that of his beloved, twining together, becoming one, and ascending finally to heaven.
I take it upon me
To decide freedom's worth
To judge this happiness
Of heaven on earth
No life alone
When you belong to me
To bring me back
Where I belong to be
To pick up the pieces
Of my shattered mind
When I lay finally
In your arms entwined
Enwrap't in light, angelic love,
Let darkness at last descend—
A/N: Thanks so much to all my lovely readers and reviewers!
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Y'all were great, I'm really glad you enjoyed the story! I probably won't be starting any more after this, but be sure to check into my other phanfics if you haven't already done so. Thanks!
Your obedient writer,
Random
