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NSL Jewelles

Chapter Five – Falling for Ghosts

Istanbul 1875

Erik

Across the dinner table, I watch Christine eat calmly but steadily, her face the only part of her showing out of the traditional garb, her hair and body covered in elaborate fabric. I, myself, am not much better, though one can actually distinguish my body shape through the costume. Suddenly, Christine drops her fork, seemingly accidentally.

"Darling, are you all right?" I ask her as she lifts it and wipes it on her napkin. I reach across the table for her but she stops me with her eyes; propriety is so much more of a concern here than in Europe.

"I'm fine," she responds curtly, returning to her meal and I to mine. We eat in silence for another few minutes until her voice comes to me, "Erik, what day is it?"

"It's Thursday," I answer quickly, surprised at such a question, but she stares at me. "May tenth," I continue, and see her eyes go wide. "Why, is something wrong?" She fervently shakes her head, concentrating on her dinner. Ignoring what is and isn't proper, I take her hand. "Christine, something must be wrong or you wouldn't be acting so skittish."

Pulling her hand away, Christine responds coldly, "I am not acting skittish," but in her eyes there is something else, something that must be revealed, a look that seems to break my heart in two. Dropping a few notes of money on the table, I grab Christine by the hand and practically drag her outside. "Erik, what is this about?"

"You're not telling me something, Christine," I state, placing a hand on her cheek. "I thought that we agreed that we wouldn't keep secrets?" She nods. "Now tell me what's bothering you." First she looks away, but I press against her cheek, turning her towards me again. Her eyes flick upward, the brown orbs boring into my green ones. At long last, she speaks.

"Let us go to our apartment," she says meekly, taking my hand and leading me down the street and into the apartment we've rented. Once inside, she removes her head covering and places it on a small table before turning back to me. "You said it was May the tenth?" I nod, reaching out for Christine and enclosing her hands in mine. She bites her lip, tears welling in her eyes. "It was one year ago today," she whimpers, pulling away and running to the bed, throwing herself upon it and weeping uncontrollably. I hurry to her side and gather her in my arms, almost feeling all of the pain seeping into me, wondering what she could possibly mean…

One year ago…

"Madame de Chagny?" The doctor came out of the bedroom, his face pasty and his eyes sullen. Christine turned abruptly from her seat at the table and raced towards the man in the doorway.

"Yes?" her voice shook almost uncontrollably and she fought to maintain her composure. The doctor's stance was rigid and Christine placed a hand on his arm. "Whatever it is, you must tell me."

"Madame, I can only offer my sincerest apologies," the doctor said firmly. Christine backed away, covering her mouth with her hand.

"You don't mean…"

"Of course not, Madame. Your husband is as alive as he was this morn, but the circumstances…they do not look good, Madame." Christine's eyes shot up to meet the doctor's. "He is very weak, Madame; the disease has been attacking him for far too long for us to do anything."

"There is…nothing you can do?" she asked, advancing towards the doctor. "There is not another option?" The doctor shook his head. "So you are telling me that I must simply wait for my husband to die?" she snapped, turning away again.

"If I may be frank, there is no other way to put it," he replied, agreeing with her and sending shivers up her spine. "I am truly sorry, Madame. If there was another way we would have tried." The doctor placed a comforting hand on Christine's arm and continued, "You may see him now. He is in good health now, but I would use your moments preciously."

Christine whirled round. "How long?" she murmured, her voice hoarse.

"If he lives past New Year I would be astonished," the doctor said, lifting his supplies from the floor and heading for the door of the manor. Christine pursued him, walking quickly.

"Not seven months?" As the doctor stepped outside he merely shook his head and then the door shut.

Christine

"It all began one year ago," I say meekly, comforted in Erik's warm embrace. "They diagnosed him with a weakening disease in a highly developed stage; he was gone by autumn." I bury my face in Erik's shoulder, starting to cry again. Why are you telling him? Why should he care? "I'm sorry," I say suddenly, sitting up and pulling away. "I don't know why I'm even telling you this when you don't care!" Standing from the bed, I walk off towards the window and stare outside, my lip quivering.

I hear Erik's long sigh and his footsteps as he walks towards me. "What makes you think that I don't care?" he says comfortingly, placing his hands on my shoulders. I whirl round, staring at him.

"You hated him!" I snap, my face flushed both from crying and from anger. "You hated him and you didn't even care that he died! I bet you were happy! You have no idea what I went through!" Rage flooding over, I walk quickly and purposefully towards the washroom, intent on staying away from Erik to clear my head, but he grabs my arm and pulls me towards him.

"Of course I 'have an idea', Christine! I lost my love too!" Although I turn to look at him, he shoves me away in the direction of the washroom, and I stumble inside, shutting the door behind me. I slide down against the door, crying into my hands, barely able to think.

The fights have grown more numerous, this I cannot deny. It used to be over petty things like what side of the bed to sleep on or what mask to wear, but it has steadily become less trivial. And now…I had hoped that Raoul's sickness and passing would not come up, that I wouldn't have to deal with it this early in my relationship with Erik, but I have guessed wrongly.

Struggling up from the floor, I suddenly fall silent, pressing my ear to the door. From the room I hear…crying. I stumble away from the door as if I've been burned. He does love you, Christine. Don't let him go. Biting my lip, I turn to the tub. Ah yes, a bath.

Erik

I do not know what to think any more, and I most certainly have no idea what to make of the recent situation. There is nothing I can do but wait for her to talk to me; my retaliation about losing love was clearly too much and too forward.

Sinking onto the bed, I hear running water from the washroom. Thinking on it, I know that a bath will do Christine good, and the time she takes will help me to clear my mind. I stand again, heading for the desk and I sit down, drawing a piece of paper from the drawer, along with quill and ink, and beginning to write. I have not written to Christine in months, it seems, and, though I can share most things with her now, it is almost cathartic to write them in private.

I have only a sentence or two written when I hear strains of music coming from the bathroom. "Past the point of no return, the final threshold! What warm unspoken secrets will we learn beyond the point of no return?" Surprising as it is to hear Christine's voice, I barely notice that I have dropped the quill, inky splotches appearing on the paper. Her voice…it has matured since I last heard her, its intonations still high and pure but now sensual, provocative and utterly womanly.

"You have brought me to that moment when words run dry, to that moment when speech disappears into silence…silence…"My heart rate increases dramatically as I stand up to walk towards the washroom, hoping to hear more. After a few paces, however, I stop and turn back, my body responding to the sensuality of her voice. I lean against the bedpost and say firmly and through gritted teeth, "Christine, darling, you're going to have to stop that."

"Why?" she calls back, clearly unaware of my pained and aroused condition.

"Just stop," I shout, my breathing labored as I try to keep the desire flooding me from going any further. "I beg of you."

"I'm singing in the bathtub, Erik," she says calmly, and I hear the water sloshing around, making me even more aware of her body, unclothed and open to the hot water; spots appear before my eyes and I clench my jaw, trying not to think about Christine. "Everyone does that, and so do I."

I nearly lose control as she sings again. "I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why! In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent." The spots get brighter, and I try to take deep, calming breaths, shutting out all thought of the woman in the washroom and the voice in the air. "Now I am here with you, no second thoughts. I've decided…decided…"

Standing up, trying to maintain composure, I take another deep breath, thinking she has stopped. I move as if to take a step back towards the desk when I fell a small, warm hand on my neck from behind. "Past the point of no return…"

The authoress shifts her eyes and doesn't promise anything. :-)

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