Erik

I could not close my eyes. Every time I did, the nightmare that had chased me out of bed in the first place appeared in my mind.

Christine, lying cold upon the frozen ground, a bouquet of black roses in her hands. Her lips were blue, her skin tinted with the icy pallor of death, and though I watched desperately for a sign of life, her thin chest remained still. The body that had housed the woman I loved was now nothing more than bones covered with a little skin; there was no flesh left on her.


I had killed her.

There was not a mark anywhere upon that fair skin, but I had killed her nonetheless. This, I knew, because the boy kneeling by her side with his perfect features staring up at me was demanding why, his blue Chagny eyes rightfully accusing me of killing the only thing we both adored . . .

I fled.

Darkness that I had loved so long closed in around me, threatening me with torment that was more exquisite than any torture. I could hear her voice, soulless now, a cold high pitch severing the very wind as it enthralled me, leading me to the edge of a cliff. The raging sea below held only comfort; the siren song of my beloved called to me, begging me to join her, but I stepped back from the edge.

I could not be with her. Past death, I would never see her again, for she was light to my darkness. My Angel would fly straight to heaven, but if I followed her I would be condemned to the deepest circle of hell . . .

The ocean beneath me turned into a raging black fury of souls, rising up to claim me as the devil's own, and I was consumed with burning darkness . . .

Shaking, I pulled Christine closer, burying myself in the comfort of her warmth. Warmth was life; as long as she was here, her body heat surrounding me, she was alive. I cannot say how much time passed, but I realized suddenly that she had awoken. I held still, hoping that she would think I was slumbering and return to sleep herself, but then I realized I was holding her far too tightly for her to believe me unconscious.

"You're freezing," she murmured, writhing around a little until she could slide her arms around me, pulling my head down to rest against her shoulder. I did not answer, and Christine began stroking my hair with her hands. My mind desperately wanted to resist, but I found myself succumbing to her wishes, holding still as her small hands gently soothed the muscles in my neck and back, relaxing me and warming me until I was comfortable and drowsy in her arms. I tensed again, however, when she started humming to me in a low tone. It was too much to hope that she hadn't noticed; Christine stopped and lifted my face to hers in the darkness. "Erik," she said quietly, her lips moving gently against my ear, "what is wrong? Please? You're worrying me, love."

I forced my voice to sound normal; it was not easy. "Just a dream, Christine." She was silent, expectation floating in the tiny space between us. I groaned and tried to pull away, but my wife had taken the opportunity to tangle herself into my arms, burying her fingers in my hair and generally making escape difficult. Former ballet dancers, I have discovered since our marriage, can resemble boa constrictors when they wish to.

Perhaps it would be best to keep that observation from Christine. She would not appreciate being compared to a snake.

Giving up my futile efforts, I closed my eyes and allowed her to hold me once more. "You saw me hurt," her voice whispered, and I jerked my head out of her grasp to stare at her dark shape in shock. "It was a guess, Erik. Most nightmares would drive you into my arms, not away from them."

My voice sounded hoarse even to my own ears as I buried my face into her hair and replied, "I didn't do anything. I didn't do a thing to you, and yet I had killed you. And . . ." I did not want to admit to Raoul's presence. There was no earthly reason for me to still be jealous of the boy, and admitting to such jealousy seemed a weakness indeed. But I loathe lying to her; even when I attempt it, she knows and her innocent eyes shame me into the truth. Finally, I just muttered, "He was there. Holding you. Asking me why. You called me into the sea . . ."

"So you could follow me into heaven?"

"No." Bitterness flooded my tone, and this time I was able to pull away from her. "So I could burn in hell." I sat up on the edge of the bed, my elbows resting on my knees as I held my face in my hands. Christine was silent; I could feel her hovering close beside me, wanting to be near but unsure whether or not I would allow her to comfort me. "You know that's how this ends, don't you?" I asked bleakly. "If there is anything after this life is finished with us, my dear, I can assure you—"

She struck my shoulder, hard. "Stop that. Stop it." Christine pulled me around to face her. She was kneeling, peering down into my eyes, only a hair's-breadth between our faces so that she could see me in the darkness. "Do you think any heaven or any hell can destroy what binds us together? You and I are one, my beloved angel, and no force can separate us. Satan has not the power and God would not try to, so what have we to fear?"

"You and I," I whispered, "believe in a very different God."

Christine leaned forward and gently touched her lips to mine. Her kiss was sweet and timeless, a precious bit of her soul that spoke of love and freedom and peace, a kiss that tasted of the very heaven she believed in. "My God," she told me softly when she had pulled away just far enough to speak, "made this mouth to fit your own, made this spirit the twin of yours, made me and you two halves in the deepest measure of our hearts. And that God, Erik, would not tear apart what he has so painstakingly created to live as one."

Her fingers found the tears on my cheeks and she began to slowly kiss them away, lingering over each part of my face. "Oh, beloved," I whispered, and Christine's mouth again found mine. This kiss was longer, deeper, and though she told me much I had forgotten about love, we spoke no more that night.

-a/n-

SoccerFreak2516: Lol, yes, I'm glad that you were so excited to check for an update! Hope soccer camp was good; here's another chapter for you!

Angelmuse: Thanks! I'm glad you like so far! Yes, I love the electricity between them, whether it's in anger or love. I'm so happy that you love my little fluff bunny! I do too; its fun to write, gives me a release from some of the harder-to-write sequences in my other ongoing works. Though there are definitely some bits, especially in Beyond, that I can't WAIT to get to . . . -grins-

CrazyCarl: Wow, thanks! What has been your favorite bit so far? (Or favorite bits, I'm not picky, I just want to know what people are liking). Muchas gracias and keep reading!

In fact, there's an assignment for all y'all; review or email and tell me what parts you've liked best so far and why wink It'll help me write better, honest . . . actually, it'll just make me happy, but that's the same thing. Hope you like this chapter! Toodles!