A/N: Things are progressing now… the next few chapters are fast and there's a chance they may the last. This one is still… well, you'll see. I introduce Erik… and hope to disappoint no one.
Chapter 45- Unashamed.
Erik walked slowly next to Christine, looking ahead into the darkening distance. The moon was lifting itself above the horizon, striking down the daylight and replacing it with the freshness of night time. He moved his feet gracefully over the ground. He didn't walk, he drifted. He glanced down at Christine when he realised that neither of them had said a word for nearly half an hour. As his eyes moved down he took in the simple brown of her hair which in daylight shimmered a hundred colours. Tonight, it was simply a dark brown. He preferred it that way, he thought. Most of the time.
The shimmer sometimes took attention away from her face.
And then his eyes nestled onto the features of her face. Her high cheek bones, both soft and pink. Her lips, tender and red from earlier in the night. He closed his eyes for a moment and reflected on the taste of her lips. The feeling that she had trapped her essence somehow, somewhere inside his body and now there was no way he would ever get it out again.
He was acutely aware that her scent clung to his body like silk. He had not washed and for now, he didn't intend to. Perhaps later she would let him wash her hair, give him the pleasure of something so intimate.
Or maybe she wouldn't.
Her silence disturbed him and when he opened his eyes to look at her again he realised why. Over the last few months her presence in his home had become gradually bearable but never had it become welcome. It wasn't because Erik hated her or even that he didn't love her. It was simply that her being there was a constant reminder to him that she had chosen another man over himself. It was that niggle in his mind, the torturous voice which mocked him whenever he thought of her. When he had said that he didn't want her there he had truly meant it. And then when she fell ill, although he still didn't want her there, he realised that it was necessary.
It was that, or put her in danger, and nothing on the earth or in hell could have made Erik allow her to be in any danger.
As he nursed her and watched her sleep, he sang to her. She didn't know that he had. For the most part she was unconscious or at least barely conscious enough that she had forgotten about it by the next time she woke up. Whenever that was.
For nearly a week he had honestly believed that she was going to die and that he would have to find some suitable burial for her, or worse, be forced to find a way of returning her to the pining Vicomte. In the end his perseverance paid off and he was rewarded with kind, mumbled words and then finally, Christine's improved health. He had been happy and had fought hard not to show it.
She couldn't know.
Over the next weeks, however many there were, she had spoken to him on many occasions. Frequently he ignored her, simply nodding in understanding but still she had continued. At first it infuriated him, he felt the hairs on his body bristle with anger. Then it had annoyed him, like a fly landing on your arm. And then, finally, it had begun to charm him.
Of course, he realised how difficult it was to persist in a quest that in your mind you know is probably worthless. Hadn't he done it with her? But he appreciated that she had made the effort and as time had progressed he had graced her with a smile or a few kind words here and there. Erik wasn't entirely used to being nice. Niceness was an entity which rarely encompassed him and he avoided it at most costs. People took niceness as a sign of weakness and took advantage of those either stupid enough, or brave enough, to give it.
Christine was different.
As time past by them, sometimes in a blur, and as Christine's health began to improve, he slowly began to realise that she deserved him to be nice to her. At first it was an effort and that slowly, it started to come more naturally. Still, he wasn't overly friendly, he did little that would give away any of his inner most emotions.
When he met Emily something inside his body and soul had clicked into place. He found her enchanting, fascinating. He was intrigued by her voice and captivated by the way she could take him anywhere in his own mind. He could be on a cloud. Of course, what Emily really was, was a substitute for Christine. The kiss had shown him that. He had realised that although the kiss was tender and real, it wasn't given to him by the one he loved.
Christine.
When he had seen her crying his anger at her being in that room had vanished instantaneously. He had wanted to fall to his knees and gather her carefully in to his chest. He wanted to make all of the explanations he thought that she deserved and most of all he wanted to make her okay. He wanted to make everything okay.
And then she was in his arms. Downstairs. In front of the fire. In the living room. The two of them. Christine. In his arms.
Was he supposed to let her go?
He thought that he should, yet he ached to kiss her, he ached for her lips. And so he did kiss her. And it felt right.
When she had led him to the corridor he knew what was on her mind and what she was feeling at the time. Whether it was pity or not he didn't care, his heart screamed at him to kiss her, to follow her, to take her into the bedroom. His mind told him the opposite. That he would be hurt and even that, in some fantasy, that it was happening too soon.
It wasn't too soon.
It was nearly too late.
Making love to her was heaven, it was a paradise he never thought he could feel. When their souls connected he realised that he had done what was right for both of them, and not just for him. She had felt so wonderful.
She was everything.
He knew he had done it because he felt that he had to, he had to in case it was the last night that he ever had the opportunity to be with her.
His heart pounded.
'Erik,' her voice snapped him from his daydream and he glanced back down at her. 'Are you okay?'
'Yes,' he said and nodded gently, kicking a stone with the sole of his shoe.
'Are…' she began and swallowed hard. 'Are we okay?'
'Yes,' he said and allowed a soft smile to form on his lips. Then he held his arm out for her and she took it gently, sliding her hand through to loop he had made. She leaned against his body.
'I'm getting tired,' she said and he nodded at her.
'Then we'll head home,'
It was only when he saw her staring at him that he realised what he had said.
Had he really called it their home?