Chapter 15

Erik stared absentmindedly down at Christine's golden curls. They were disheveled and messy, and he found himself smiling. His own happiness and… relief were swelling in him, and he wanted to laugh and dance with the joy of it all. Christine must love him! He felt her nestle her face deeper into the crook of his neck, and caught his breath.

A little awful voice was hissing to Christine, and it asked her if this was what she wanted, if by returning Erik's kisses and caresses and acting as though she loved him in return she would be bringing pain upon herself. Christine closed her eyes and tried to hide from all these thoughts by burying her head deeper into Erik's chest.

She felt Erik's arm wrap around her shoulders tighter, and for a moment, she was safe, she didn't doubt her own emotions, she knew what she had and she wanted nothing more than that, but the moment passed, and Christine had the strange sensation that she was risking her very soul by reaching out to Erik and admitting that she might care for him.

Erik breathed into Christine's ear and she found herself recoiling. He didn't seem to notice, though, and sighed and whispered, "You love me," and tilted her face up to his, leaning into her lips. Christine stared at his closed eyes and felt tears grow in hers. She backed away from his kiss and turned to face the door behind her.

Two yellow eyes opened and fixed on Christine's back. They watched as her head bowed and she seemed to murmur something. These eyes didn't show any emotion, even though the brain behind them was working furiously. A small prickling was growing behind these eyes, distorting the images in front of them, and the moisture growing there was making the amber color glitter and glow and bore into the back they were fixed on.

Christine's shoulders trembled and she wondered if she was deliberately punishing herself. By telling herself that Erik would only hurt her, that he didn't really love her, she was really hurting herself.

Suddenly, two long-fingered hands were on her waist and Christine felt herself pulled against a warm bare chest. A small jolt shot through her and she tried to pull away, to tell Erik that she was afraid of him, but he covered her eyes with his scabbed hand and pulled her head to rest on his shoulder. Christine blinked against his palm and tried to pull it away, but Erik pinned her wrists to her sides with his other arm. She felt him lean into her ear and hiss to be quiet, and her fear kept her silent.

They stayed that way until Christine could no longer be stiff and had no choice but to sag against his chest. "That's better," Erik breathed. He ran the hand that had been holding down her wrists up to her elbows and back down again, unconsciously enjoying the way she shivered underneath his palm. Finally, Erik stopped his movement and decided it was time to speak.

"You're afraid of me," he stated plainly. "Why are you afraid of me?" He felt Christine's eyelashes brush against his hand as she blinked. "Christine… Christine, know that I love you. I will always love you."

All in one moment, Christine realized that she had known all along that Erik would love her, did love her. She realized that she had been afraid that she wouldn't be able to love him, that she would push him away like she did everyone else. She realized that she was afraid of herself.

She opened her eyes and stared up at the darkness above her. "I know that," she whispered. Erik's magical words seemed to echo in her head, and she wondered if he would allow her to grow distant from him, to turn him away.

Erik's hand slipped beneath her knees and he lifted her up and began walking. "Trust me," he said simply as Christine opened her mouth to protest. He started down the hallway and towards his lair. "Christine," he began conversationally, seeming to relish the taste of her name on his lips, "I want to know if you love me. I cannot wait for your answer forever…"

"I want to know why you're afraid of me. I want to know why you refused to answer me when I asked you if you loved me, but kissed me later. I want you to make up your mind." By now he had reached the gondola and began to cross the lake. Finally reaching the shore, he set Christine on her feet and took his hand off her eyes. She blinked in the sudden light. "Alright," Erik said, collapsing on his organ bench and shamelessly studying the expression on Christine's face. "Christine, do you love me?"

Christine looked hopelessly around at the candles surrounding her. She felt trapped by Erik's calculating stare, and spoke rapidly. "How can I love you when—when I don't—I don't--"

Erik struck a few chords on his organ. He was enjoying this, oddly enough. "You don't what?" He rippled his hand up the organ keys, and covertly watched Christine shiver behind him at the sound of the notes. She unintentionally moved closer to him, closer to the music.

Preoccupied, Christine forgot to feel nervous and spoke carelessly. "I don't know what love is… How can I, how can you?"

Pounding across the keys, Erik decided he did not like this game anymore. "You're a coward," he spat. "You refuse to answer my questions about yourself; you try to turn everything back on me. You know what I think?" More chords resounded from underneath Erik's fingers. "You know what love is just as much as I do. You know that you've never felt this way with anyone else, and that's what scares you."

Christine stopped moving towards the organ and stared down at Erik's stiff profile. She realized that he still wasn't wearing a shirt and vaguely wondered if he was cold, and then decided that she didn't care. "I am not a coward," she said haughtily.

He scoffed. "You are. I want to know if you love me. You know the answer to that question. You're just too afraid to say it." Erik stood up from the organ and moved towards where he had left his shirt, on the shore by the lake. Frustrated, Christine followed him.

"Fine. I'll answer your stupid question." Erik jerked his head up and fixed Christine with an unwavering gaze. "I don't love you and I never will! How could I! After all you've done to me! I don't even like you! I hate you!"

For a moment, Erik looked stricken. Then anger and disbelief clouded his features and he began to smile maliciously. "You didn't hate me that much when I was in your room," he said slyly, and bent to pick up his shirt. "In fact, as I recall, I didn't even have this--" he wiggled the shirt in the air, "--on, and you really didn't seem to mind at all. You seemed to greatly appreciate that fact, actually."

Christine blushed furiously and, in one quick movement, snatched Erik's shirt out of his hand and threw it into the water. She glared at him triumphantly. He began to laugh. "You must really hate that shirt," he said, and swaggered towards her. "Well, it's gone now! You've got me how you want me!" He opened his arms wide and stepped forwards to envelope Christine in them. She struggled against him as he tried to cover her lips with his own.

Erik missed her mouth completely and a kiss landed on Christine's ear. "Where did you learn to kiss, the circus?" she asked snidely as she struggled in his arms.

"No," he replied, just as snidely.

"You're not acting very much like someone who loves me," Christine huffed.

Erik paused in his struggle and looked earnestly down into her flushed face. "I do love you," he said, and seized his chance, grabbing Christine's chin and firmly bringing his mouth down on top of her own.

She made a muffled little noise and then sighed and leaned into Erik. For a moment, the body in his arms was willing, and Erik tightened his arms around Christine. He felt the lake water lapping against his bare feet but didn't care. And then Christine seemed to realize what she was doing and she jerked in his arms, struggling against him once more. Erik refused to remove his lips from her own, and slid his hand from her chin around to the back of her head, her lips now smashed against his own. Christine pushed against Erik as hard as she could, and it was in that second that she lost her balance.

Seemingly in slow motion, she fell backwards into the lake behind her, pulling Erik after her, his lips still connected to her own. With a loud splash, both fell into the waist deep water.

Christine slowly sat up, spluttering. Her head had even gone underwater in the fall, and she was completely soaked. Right next to her, Erik's dark head popped up from underneath the water. He had his back to her, and Christine watched him surreptitiously put his mask back on. She felt faintly uncomfortable, and wondered what he would do if she took his mask off, but was distracted from that thought as he turned around and leered at her, and then began to laugh. Rolling over in the water, he reached out and tried to pull her towards him, still grinning.

"You're not still mad at me?" he asked mock-seriously when she pulled away. Christine just narrowed her eyes at him. She began to stand up, and then looked down at her dress to see that it was clinging to her in a very embarrassing way. Christine silently damned 19th Century dresses.

"Go get me a towel," she ordered Erik, trying not to blush.

Erik stood up and began wading out of the lake. "Get one yourself."

"I can't!" Christine cried desperately.

"Why not?" Erik demanded. "Did you—Oh…!" He began to laugh. "You're definitely going to have to get one yourself."

"Erik!" He just smiled sweetly at her. Christine reflected that this was the most she had ever seen Erik smile. "Erik, please, I really can't! Please!"

"No." Erik walked off down a hallway and disappeared for a moment, and then came back carrying a towel. He wrapped it around his shoulders with a flourish and slowly sunk down onto the shore in front of Christine.

"You said you loved me!" Christine felt her teeth begin to chatter.

Erik yawned. "Don't even try that one on me. You hate me, remember?"

"Alright, I don't hate you… I'm really getting very cold, please get me a towel!"

"Hmmm." Erik pretended to consider this idea. "What do I get out of it?"

Christine set her jaw. "Fine. I'll get the towel myself. Look the other way."

"Are you kidding? I don't think so," Erik grinned toothily.

With a last attempt at pride, Christine firmly crossed her arms over her chest and waded out of the lake. It was worse than she thought. With every step she took, the muslin dress clung to her legs and almost tripped her, so that she had to take very small steps. Upon passing Erik, he stood up and followed her.

"I have to show you where the towels are," he said in response to her disgusted look.

Finally reaching the dark hallway, Erik slipped ahead of her and came back holding a red towel. He held it to his chest. "You'll have to come and get it," he teased.

"Erik," Christine sighed. "I humored you. I got the stupid towel myself. Now would you please give it to me?"

He grinned and said nothing. Christine moved forwards to snatch it out of his hands, and for one brief instant her fingers brushed the cloth. The next moment, Erik was holding her hand in his, and staring in awe at her face. She blinked uncomfortably.

Incredibly slowly, Erik's other hand slid from the towel to Christine's waist. All the while watching her face, he pulled her closer to him, the towel forgotten and in a heap on the floor. Christine didn't dare move her eyes from his. Agonizingly, he rested his cheek against hers, and then pulled away, to gradually move towards her lips, and then stop right before meeting them. Christine leaned forwards and pressed her lips to Erik's. He sighed and wrapped both of his arms around her.

Briefly pulling away, Erik gazed fiercely into Christine's eyes. "Do you love me?" he whispered.

"I do," she replied, and the shock behind the truth of her answer showed on her face, and Erik believed her.

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