Hi, everyone, Chels here. Just wanted to put in a quick author's note, to thank every one kindly for the reviews, on all of our stories. We really appreciate our readers, and are glad you enjoy our stories.

On with the chap.

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Chapter Twenty-One

Four months had passed since the vicomte's attack on Christine. She' d been so withdrawn, from everyone, even Erik. It hurt him deeply, but he had no idea how to remedy her... Each night he told her he loved her; she never returned the sentiment. Each day he would try to kiss her cheek, or her forehead; she always resisted.

He felt so helpless... At the moment, she was outside playing with Brigitte, one of the few pastimes she actually enjoyed, or allowed herself to. He approached the window in the kitchen which looked out on the lawn and patio, where they were. Christine was laughing and smiling as Brigitte ran about the grass carelessly. Erik wished that Christine could be like that always, but this seemed to be the only time she let herself go. He turned from the window and let himself into his private combination music room and study, which Christine did not know about. He sat at the small piano he'd purchased and began to play.

Christine had seen Erik watching them at the window, but hadn't acknowledged him because she had feared he would come out and tell her he loved her and she would once again be forced to just smile and nod. Of course she felt the same way for him, but since that night all those months ago, she had felt so scared to say those words or open her heart again. She knew she was safe with Erik... She knew he wasn't Raoul... But something inside her felt the constant need to push him away.

She had since devoted her life solely to Brigitte, spending every waking hour with her... It gave her happiness and was one of the only things that made her feel whole again... That night had scarred her more than she let on; it had left her broken. She hoped that she would soon be able to express her feelings to Erik again, for she knew it pained him that she had not. Christine scooped Brigitte up into her arms and carried her back into the house for lunch.

Erik played for an immeasurable amount of time, keeping his thoughts clear of Christine and her detachment from him as long as he could. Finally, he stopped, exhausted and hungry. He made his way into the kitchen and made himself a small lunch with a glass of spiked cider, as Annette was busy cleaning the upstairs. He took it to the patio, not something that he did very often. Erik liked the fall... It was always brisk, but not too cold, the leaves many different hues, making the trees look beautiful and diverse... In such a season long walks seemed most favorable to him; of late he'd been taking many of them, sensing that Christine was mildly uncomfortable by his constant presence in the house.

Once he'd finished his meal, he took his empty dishes into the kitchen and called to Christine (though he way unsure of where she was), "I am going for a walk, dear. I may be gone a while, should you need me." He knew she would not.

Christine had just finished putting Brigitte down for her nap; she exited the nursery, quietly shutting the door behind her. She walked into the kitchen. "I'll come with you," she said, surprised by her own words. She hadn't even had to think about her answer, as she often had to as of lately when it involved him. Maybe she would finally be able to open up to him again... But she doubted it... All she could do was hope. She almost laughed at his shocked expression. Almost. Christine hardly ever laughed, well except when she was with Brigitte. "If that's okay..."

"I suppose," he said cautiously; he turned from her and exited through the front door. He decided to go east, a direction he rarely took on previous walks. "I usually walk to the trees, whichever direction I go," he volunteered, employing the tone one uses with a friendly acquaintance, "Occasionally, I go further. It all depends..."

Once, he'd walked into the thicket of trees, to a large stream, full of rocks and small animals. He'd sat by it for at least an hour, finding it strangely calming; the novelty of a small world teaming at his feet, the occupants unconcerned with anything beyond finding food and mating.

"Oh," she said, rather lamely, hurrying to keep up with his long strides. She felt the urge to take his hand in hers, but didn't act upon it.

"Yes... I find them quite relaxing... Comforting in the thought that I have a nice home to return to, once I'm finished exploring... There is much more to see here than I'd once thought, when I purchased the property." He fell silent, all his idle chitchat material spent; and they had only been walking for five minutes.

"You go on a lot of them lately... Walks I mean."

"Yes... I suppose I have. I find they're a splendid way to pass the time, and sort your thoughts," he rambled. "Where do you want to walk to," he asked after a pause. "I believe there is a brook just beyond those trees, which I find interesting... Or we could just walk to the edge of the trees... Whatever you wish."

"I don't care, your choice," she said, feeling oddly like some sort of schoolgirl with a crush. Soon, she suspected, she would start giggling and blushing and flirting with him with the way things were going.

He nodded, and walked on in silence. The purpose of the walks had been to clear his mind; forget about Christine for a moment, just like with music. Now that she was here, he could not, and he felt a foolish need to impress. To show her how he'd been spending his time without her. But he doubted she'd be greatly influenced by what he was to show her. No matter, he thought. It was her business if she did not enjoy the peace and solitude of the woods as he did. Actually, he was surprised that he enjoyed it so; he'd never counted himself as much of a nature lover. But then, he was a lover of beautiful things, and the woods certainly were beautiful in their own rustic way.

Christine walked quickly behind him as he led her into the woods. "Do you always walk so fast?" she asked, practically having to jog to catch up with him. His long strides did not match those that her small frame permitted, but she found this strangely endearing.

"Yes, this is my normal pace," he replied. "I am sorry, I did not realize you were struggling." He slowed his pace a bit, but in a few moments, he unknowingly returned to the previous one.

"Wait up," she called after him; when she got close enough to him, she grabbed his arm to get him to slow down, not realizing what she was doing.

"Sorry," he said again. "A habit, you know," he added, glancing down at her hand on his arm.

"It's okay," she mumbled, blushing and looking away, as she quickly dropped his arm.

The way he and Christine were acting reminded Erik uncomfortably of Luciana. The awkward looks and sentences, the constant feeling of unexplained tension. He was thankful when they reached the woods. "Do you wish to turn back," he asked, "or continue on? I must tell you I find the scenery quite lovely if we go on."

"Let's keep going."

He nodded in agreement, a small smile dancing across his lips for but a moment as they crossed the threshold from clear, open spaces into the enclosure of the trees. A faint path had been beaten down, from either animals or men who had been here before, which Erik doubted somewhat. Either way, he led Christine to follow it, as he took in the sight of all the wildlife residing in the dense trees and bushes.

"It's beautiful here," Christine said, her lips forming a small smile.

"I am glad you agree." Eventually they reached the stream. "If you do not mind, I'd like to sit here a moment... I have a fondness for watching this..." he said, nodding to the water.

She nodded, sitting down upon the damp earth, a feeling of peace and carfreeness beginning sweeping over her, which had grown unfamiliar to her recently. He joined her and gazed at the stream, occasionally stealing glances at her. He wanted to say something, but he could find no words that would be suitable, so he remained silent.

"Christine," he said quietly.

"Yes?"

"Why... What is... Are you happy here, with me?" he finished finally, unsure of how to voice his true question gently.

She turned her head to look at him, wanting to tell him what she had been feeling, wanting to tell him that it wasn't him it was just... her. Somehow, she couldn't. "I am."

"Then why..." Why do you constantly push me away? Why have you destroyed the comfort we once had together? "Never mind," he muttered.

"Why what?"

"Never mind," he repeated. "Let's go now," he said abruptly. "I'm sure you are tired."

"Why would I be tired?"

"Just... The walk and such," he said, beginning to rise to his feet.

Christine sighed, rising to her feet. She wished he would tell her what he was thinking... But she knew it was only fair, since she hadn't opened up to him in four months.

As the two began to walk out of the woods, a heavy rain began. "Damn it," he cursed under his breath, upset that he had not noticed the overcast sky earlier. Christine began to laugh; it was just too fitting.

"What the devil is so funny?" he asked, though not unkindly.

"It just figures!" she exclaimed through her laughter, as her dress began to get soaked through with rainwater, knowing that she must seem insane.

He nodded with vague understanding. "I'm sorry," he said, as the water drenched them both.

"What for?"

"For allowing you to accompany me... I should have know this was coming."

"Oh... That's alright. No need to apologize," she practically shouted through the heavy rain. It didn't take long for the thin material of her dress to get drenched; it clung to her wet body, though she didn't notice or mind... She found the whole situation highly amusing. He glanced at her, not fully understanding why this was so humorous to her. As he did, however, he noticed how her form was clearly visible through the soaked dress. The site made him feel both aroused and irresponsible at the same time.

Christine noticed his gaze, causing her to blush. She picked up her pace as thunder boomed in the distance. Even so, he still walked faster than her. "We must press on," he urged, "We do not want to get too wet..." he said lamely, averting his eyes reluctantly.

"Right," she said, hurrying to catch up with him. The heavy rain continued, messing his clothing to what he realized might be beyond repair. He stripped his jacket off, as it had become quite a heavy burden with all the water it had absorbed.

Christine nearly stopped in her tracks as he took off his jacket, doing everything in her power to not stare. His shirtsleeves were soaked, clinging to his muscular build. She was glad she was still behind him, as she did not want him to notice her gaze. Christine had not felt this way for quite a while; it was almost alien to her.

Erik felt a pair of eyes on his back, and immediately became self-conscious. He did his best to brush it off as he turned back to her, not breaking his stride, and said, "Do try to keep up. I do not want you to fall ill." She forced herself to look up at his face.

"I'll be fine."

"If you insist," he said, gazing into her eyes a moment before abruptly turning back around. He felt sensations course through him that he had not felt for quite some time... He suddenly felt fully embarrassed.

Christine closed her eyes, turning her face up to the sky; trying to shake the desire that was beginning to fill her body.

Erik pressed on, not daring to look back at her again; not when lust was threatening. He wanted no lust, not now... He knew it would go unsatisfied, so he tried relentlessly to kill it, thinking of anything but her. Thunder sounded somewhere off in the distance. Erik rather liked thunder, and storms, though he was unsure why.

"Erik... What were you going to say back there?" she asked abruptly from behind him. He drew a deep breath.

"You do not really need to know... I advise you to forget it."

"Why won't you just tell me?"

"I was going to ask you why you continue to pull away from me," he exploded, though he kept his tone in check. "It was not as if I was the one who attempted to take you by force... And I do not even ask for sex; just a simple kiss on the cheek." She was silent for a moment.

"I have been trying so hard... You don't understand... You can't even imagine what it's like... How much it hurt me..."

"No, you are right, I cannot," he replied tonelessly. He was reminded of the time Javert had tried to take him; the images played briefly in his mind before he pushed them away.

"I'm sorry that I'm hurting you..."

"Yes," he said, quickening his pace slightly.

This time, Christine didn't try to keep up, allowing herself to fall further behind, an uneasy silence falling between them.

She knew that she was hurting him, and yet she couldn't bring herself to stop; to simply tell him how she felt... She wanted so badly for them to go back to the way they were. Christine wondered if that would ever be possible.

He pressed on as the rain continued to fall, making both of them look a mess. "Damn it," he cursed again, although was unsure exactly why he was suddenly so upset. To make matters worse, there was at least ten minutes left between them and the house.

After what seemed like an eternity, they came up to the house. Erik opened the door and entered the foyer, rainwater soaking into the rug. He began his ascension up the stairs to the bedroom.

Christine followed him into the house and up the stairs. She entered the bathroom and drew herself a hot bath, hoping to get her mind off of her conversation with Erik on their way home. Quickly, she pulled her soaked clothes off of her and climbed into the tub, hoping that Brigitte would sleep for a while longer and cut her bath short.

Seeing as Christine had taken the bathroom before he had a chance, Erik graciously remained in his wet shirtsleeves and trousers. Lying on the bed, he waited patiently for her to finish.

Christine soon heard Brigitte's calls from her room; she quickly drained the tub, and dried off, tying her robe around her before exiting the bathroom and making her way down the hall to tend to her daughter.

Erik rose from the bed and walked into the bathroom; he stripped his wet shirtsleeves and trousers from his damp body as the tub filled with fresh water. He lowered himself down into the tub, letting the soothing heat wash over him,

After he'd soaked in the tub for about 20 minutes, he rose and wrapped a towel around his body. He emptied the bath and walked into the bedroom, searching the wardrobe for a nightshirt. Erik stopped in Brigitte's room on the way downstairs to the parlor.

"The bedroom is free," he told Christine coolly.

Christine looked up from where she was sitting on the ground, playing dolls with Brigitte, matching his cool demeanor with her gaze. Brigitte, innocent to his tone, looked up at him and smiled.

"Hi Papa!" she exclaimed, waving to him excitedly.

"Hello, darling," he replied with a warm smile, breaking the mood.

"Are you having fun?"

"Yes! Mama and I are playing!"

"I'm glad," he said, before turning and opening the door to leave.

After he had gone, Christine stood. "I'm going to go get dressed and start dinner, but you keep playing, alright?" she asked, kissing Brigitte on the forehead.

"Okay, Mama." Christine smiled at her, before exiting the room and going into the bedroom to change.

Erik disappeared once more into his study; sitting down at the organ, he began to play as loudly as he could, not caring who heard. He vented all his frustration into his music.

After changing, Christine went down into the kitchen, and began to cook dinner. She hadn't known there was an organ in this house, so hearing Erik pound upon it had been quite surprising. The opera ghost lives on, she thought as she heated the oven.

Finally, he rose from the instrument and entered the kitchen. "Bonjour," he said to Christine.

"Good evening," she said, her back to him, as she chopped the vegetables with a little more force than she intended. "I wasn't aware there was an organ here."

"There are many things that you are not aware of," he countered, moving closer to her.

"That's a comforting thought." He could not help but chuckle at this.

She glanced up from her cooking, raising an eyebrow at him. "Are you laughing at me?"

"Oh, no..." he said lightly. "Not if you were not trying to be humorous." She shrugged before returning to her chopping.

"Again I apologize for getting you out in the rain," he said nonchalantly.

"You didn't seem to mind too much when we were out there."

He said nothing for a moment. "Well, you did not either. To be frank, you were acting like a complete lunatic." She shrugged again, turning and putting the chopped vegetables into steamer on the stove.

"Do not pretend that you did not enjoy it on other levels as well... I know that you did," he persisted.

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about."

"Christine," he said laughingly, shaking his head. After regaining his cool facade, he continued, "There was something deeply erotic about walking in rain today... Do not force me to spell it out for you— I know that you felt the same way."

Christine rolled her eyes. "Would you like some wine?" she asked, glad to change the subject, opening the bottle she had brought up from the cellar earlier.

"Yes, very much so," he replied, ceasing his interrogation. For now. She poured him a glass, then one for herself, taking a deep drink of it. He followed suit, not taking her eyes off of her. He drained half his glass of the robust red wine, letting the warming sensation wash over him.

Christine swallowed the wine, feeling herself relax; she licked the wine left on her lips absently.

Damn her! Was she tantalizing him on purpose? He polished off his glass. "Pour me some more, if you please," he said, handing her the glass.

"Alright..." she refilled the glass and handed it back to him.

"Thank you, mon cher." He raised the glass to her, in a toast, before taking a sip. "So, what is this you are cooking for us to eat?"

"Chicken Cordon Bleu," she said, before taking another swig of her glass.

"That sounds lovely... In fact, that may very well be my favorite meal," he said loudly. Just then, something occurred to him: Christine did not know the first thing about him, which was mildly upsetting.

"Oh really? I think that's the first thing you've ever told me about yourself," she said, sipping on her wine, which was making her feel quite confident suddenly.

"You never ask," he answered simply, hiding his growing semi-sadness. She spoke the truth; he knew very much about her. Watching over her in one way or another for roughly half her life, he'd learned about her preferences and her idiosyncrasies. But she knew none of his.

"Well... Tell me something I don't know then."

"That is a vast topic..."

She leaned over the counter, propping herself up with her elbows. "Start at the beginning then, I suppose."

"Perhaps later, when we are completely sober," he replied, more seriously.

"Are we not?"

"Well, I for one am not drunk, but I will not speak for you."

"Why do you always assume that after a drink, I automatically am drunk?"

"Well, you are rather light, and you do not have very good control over yourself when you do have alcohol. Trust me; I know this," he said with a smirk.

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really."

"I beg to differ."

"Believe what you wish... But do I have to remind you of the night you came to my home, after the gala? Right... Is the dinner almost ready? I am quite famished after our long journey."

"Relatively soon... Will you go get Brigitte ready to eat and bring her down here please?"

"Surely." He left the room and climbed the stairs slowly, soon returning with the babe.

Christine served the dinner, then sat down at the table. He ate his meal slowly, mulling over the evening ahead. Christine wanted to know about him... About his past. That was not a topic he spoke freely of... But he supposed she deserved to know.