Wandering Child belongs to dancechica

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Chapter Sixteen

After what seemed an unfathomable amount of walking, Christine finally saw a house come into shape in the distance after night fall. It was not a small one, but certainly smaller that Raoul's. It was a decent, two level home, made of deep red brick. Christine's stomach began to turn within her. She didn't want to step into the home. Once she did, she would be forced to crush the spirit of the only man she had ever loved. What's worse is Christine couldn't predict his reaction. Erik never had a cookie cutter personality. His emotions could swing from high to low in a heart beat.

"Here we are!", Erik announced with a grin. Christine forced herself to smile, even though she dreaded walking through the doors. But Erik helped her off the horse just as a stable boy ran out to join them. He couldn't have been more than twelve years old. Without speaking a word he took the horse from his Master and walked it to the stables, which Christine assumed were behind the house.

Erik walked her into the house and directed towards the stairs.

"If you go up the stairs and turn to your left, the third door on the right is the bedroom. There's a large closet where you'll find plenty of clothes. You probably want to wash up and change into a nightgown."

Christine, pleased that she could buy herself some more time, smiled and proceeded to climb the stairs. Once she reached the room she went to the closet and picked out the nightgown she loved to wear. It was white, made of silk. It clung to the top of her body, while at the bottom it was a very comfortable, relaxed fit. It had long sleeves with belled out at the elbow, embroidered with small pink flowers with yellow centers. She felt radiant in it, and slipped on the robe that was made to go with it.

After taking a few deep breaths, she left the room and nervously walked back down the stairs. Erik knew she had something to tell him, there was no use in prolonging it. The sooner she let it out, the sooner they could solve their problems. When she reached the bottom, she looked to her right and saw Erik standing in the sitting room, staring at the fire that blazed in the fireplace. Christine cleared her throat and he turned to face her.

Erik was immediately taken aback by her unsurpassable beauty. She indeed was his Angle. Her skin was as white as what she wore; her long, dark, curly, hair was pulled back on the sides. One tendril fell in front of her shoulder. He couldn't believe he was lucky enough to have this raven in his presence for even a moment. She stood still, staring at him with her deep eyes. Something in them looked scared so he walked up to her and kissed her. At first her lips remained stagnant, but they quickly began to move in time with his. He could hear the murmur in the back of her throat. It was the sweetest sound he could wish to hear.

He sighed. "Are you ready to talk?"

She looked to the ground, then quickly looked up and said, "Yes", with a forced smile.

Erik walked and sat on the nearest couch and Christine followed. He raised his eyes, as a cue for Christine to begin talking. She stared back at him blankly, then realizing he wanted her to begin, she slowly nodded her head up and down as her eyes traveled towards the fire.

"Erik, I love you so much. There's no one else I want to spend every waking day with." Christine cleared her throat. "You….you know that…right?"

"Christine, of course I do. Darling, what could be so important that you have to tell me? I have to be honest; you're starting to scare me."

Christine drew a deep breath from her gut. Slowly she said, "The night after the Premier of Il Muto….Raoul and I…." Christine choked on her tears. She drew three deep breaths, recomposed herself, and tried to finish her story. "Raoul and I slept together, and I am pregnant with his child."

Erik's face remained blank. Christine looked down and saw his fist clutching the material of the couch, crushing it between his fingers. His breathing became heavy and his body slightly began to rock back and forth. Christine's hand moved to touch his. As soon as it did, he threw his hand up, forcing hers to fly in the air. He got up and walked to the fireplace, resting his head on the mantle.

"You've been….", Erik swallowed. "…..in bed with him?"

"Erik, I-"

"You're pregnant?", his voice began to raise. "But you're- you're not supposed to be. You're mine; his been in you? You've been his? I can't believe this Christine!", his voice raising with every word.

"I'm sorry!", Christine put her head in her hands and rested them on her thighs. "So much has changed between now and then. I thought I loved Raoul. But now I know I didn't, because I never felt the same way I feel when I'm with you. Ever." Christine stood and walked towards Erik. His entire body seemed to be frantically shaking, as if he had so much angry energy, but nowhere to release it. She stood directly behind him, placing both hand on his shoulders, in an act of comfort.

When Erik felt her body come to brush with his, he didn't know how to react. Part of him wanted to slap her, for even daring to touch him. Another part told him to turn and hold her. He knew she was frightened of his reaction, yet she was brave enough to approach him. But ultimately he knew he couldn't allow himself to do either action. He whipped his body around, startling her as she removed her hands from his shoulders. He looked into her eyes, hoping to recognize that fire in them. Deeper and deeper he looked searching, praying he would find it. At times he though he caught a glimmer of it, but it would quickly be tarnished by the reminder of her betrayal. No. He did not know this girl. Or the girl he did love was buried profoundly beneath her soul. He couldn't look at her any longer; he didn't know what he would do. He looked around the room, breathing heavily, not being able to help his eyes fill with tears. He then left the house, slamming the door behind him, leaving Christine in tears on the sitting room floor.

Erik left the house in a panic, not knowing where to go. Suddenly the Opera House came back into his memory and he immediately had the urge to go to his real home. He ran to the stables and grabbed a horse, being sure not to take the same on he arrived with, as it was probably exhausted. He hopped on it and rode it swiftly towards Paris. As he rode all he could think about was Christine. The child barely even entered his mind. Christine had disobeyed him. He told her countless times not to go near the Vicomte. And not only had she gone near him, she had made love with him! Faster and faster he pushed the horse, to lead him to his refuge. After an hour of riding, he finally reached the House. Sneaking through the back entrance, he quickly made it into his lair. His organ remained in tact. It was the one thing he requested not be touched. He had a replacement one in the new home. But this organ belonged in the Opera House. It was there were it got its oxygen. He ran to it and began playing profusely. Hour after hour, he played. He played music of lust, music of betrayal, music of sadness, music of love, music of death. He played until each of his fingers was in an unimaginable deal of pain. But this was what he needed. He always knew music would be his one constant in his life. Before, he though there would be two: music and Christine. But now he wasn't sure.

After he felt he had derived every emotion he could into his music, he decided it was time to return back to the house. No matter how furious he was with Christine, he wouldn't allow himself to abandon her. He would just punish her the only way he deemed appropriate: with silence.

After another hour of riding back to the house, the sun began to rise. He timidly walked in, and saw to his right in the sitting room, Christine shivering on the floor, sleeping next to a burn out fire. He walked over to her, and slid his arms underneath her frail body. He lifted her off of the cold floor and carried her to the couch were he sat as he listened to her speak those awful words. He reached over the armchair next to it and pulled the blanket off that hung off the back. He wrapped it over her, making sure she was shielded from the cold. She began to stir.

"Erik?", she whispered softly. "…you're…you're back?"

Erik made sure not to make eye contact with her or show any sign of emotion on his face as he continued to tuck in the blanket. He could see her face out of the corner of his eye, waiting for a response, but he promised himself he would give none. As soon as he was certain she was comfortable he rose and left the room, once again leaving Christine heartbroken.

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