AN: Merry Christmas, fanfic readers! I hope this little gift is to your liking, and that you'll return the favor by giving me a lil review (please?).
Disclaimer: I own nothing (but will be getting the PotO soundtrack for x-mas!)
She'd held him for only a moment, arms wrapped around his neck, pressing her cool skin to his. That was when she noticed how hot he was. She wriggled out of the strong grasp and put a hand on his forehead. He was burning hot, but even with his fever he looked so relieved to be touched again.
"Erik," she spoke slowly, choking the tears of her relief back down, "Erik you're feverish."
"I'm all right," he assured her, but to no avail. She could see how tired he was, how his frame shook with every breath.
"How long have you been ill?" Her hands smoothed his hair away from his face as she pressed his forehead to her own. He was definitely in the midst of a high fever. One of her hands went down and caught his. "I have to get you home."
"Christine..."
"We have to get you to bed," she muttered to herself. How had he let himself fall sick so suddenly? It didn't seem like him at all. Again, he whispered her name, and wrapped his arms around her. Christine felt herself fall back with the extra weight, and gave a slight cry when they fell to the floor together.
"Erik, now is not the time for-" she stopped short, realizing he'd actually fainted in her arms. She wriggled out of the hold, and then turned him and laid his head in her lap. He was definitely ill, but he almost seemed to smile at this moment.
"We're going home now." She whispered into his ear.
He'd seen Christine waving her arms to him, making him leave the car. She'd worn both a panicked look in her eyes and relief in her smile. Nadir had approached the girl as she ran out in the rain, fearing the worst.
"Where is Erik?" He'd asked her.
"Inside the house, but he's feverish. I need help getting him in the car." Christine already assumed that Nadir would both help Erik in and drive them home, when Nadir was still very unwilling to trust him. Her hopes were not in vain, however, when the Persian man went ahead of her and lifted Erik's form with a slight grunt of effort.
"Open the side door. We're going to lie him down there." And so they had, but Christine had decided to sit there and use her lap as a pillow. She would not take her eyes from him, and from time to time her hand would smooth through his hair.
"I can take him home, my wife can help him." He looked into the rear view mirror and saw her shake her head.
"He needs some rest, somewhere he feels safe." Christine whispered.
"Christine," Nadir tried to argue.
"Please, after all that's happened," she spoke firmly, "let us go home together."
Nadir paused and sighed in defeat. "If he gets worse, give us a call. He has under speed dial on his cell phone."
Christine gave a small smile. "Thank you."
He heard vague sounds, and felt something cool covering his brow. Small, warm hands unbuttoned his shirt. He smelled something like medicine in the air. And then he heard her singing, and he instantly felt warmer by the sound. It was a soft, french lullaby he'd heard such a long time ago. His mother had never sung it for him, nor had Mrs. Giry, but he'd heard it in some old radio commercial, and rushed to find the song. Now she was singing it softly to him.
Slowly his eyes opened to meet hers. Her voice never faltered, even as her eyes searched over his face in worry. Her hand picked up a cool cloth, and she pressed it over his forehead. The sensation was wonderfully comforting to him. He reached his hand up to her face, and her song faded away slowly as he covered her lips.
"Christine..." he whispered. It was wonderful to say her name, and to be able to touch her again. She flushed and finally looked away.
"How are you feeling?" She took his hand away from her lips and held it tightly.
"How long have I been asleep?" He was in his own room again, resting comfortable in his bed. She sat on the edge, watching him.
"A whole day," she answered, looking a little sad. "I was beginning to think I should call Mrs. Kahn, when your fever finally broke-"
"It's best you didn't call." He responded with a little irritation in his voice, and squeezed her hand. She understood his actions, but did not want him to remain this upset.
"Erik, they were worried for you."
"I don't care what they thought," He huffed. After the hell he'd gone through, Erik had little sympathy for the detective and his kind accomplice. He saw Christine sigh, and turned his attention to her. "Did you worry?"
Christine looked incredulously into his eyes, then quickly down. "I've been at your side all of this time. Do you even have to ask?" She felt him bring her hand to his chest, just over his heart, and she felt herself grow even redder.
"I do, because I want you to say it." He pressed her hand closer. "Say it." It wasn't an order, but Christine felt so compelled by his words and the sadness in his eyes. She gave a weak smile, trying to quell her nervousness.
"I was worried, Erik." It was true. From the moment she'd realized how she felt, she'd been afraid for him. He'd been the reason she ran out of the Kahn's and prayed to God for help. Christine bent down, placing her head over their joined hands on his chest.
"Christine?"
"I didn't know if you were well, or if you'd disappeared. I was afraid." She admitted quietly, as she felt his chest rise and fall. "For a moment, I lost sight of you, Erik. That worried me...so much."
He was happy, as he wrapped an arm around her and felt her soft breaths against his skin. He was actually happy at this moment. It was more than he'd expected, but he knew that this time, it would be lasting. She would not die if he held her like this tonight.
"Hello, university offices, Karen speaking." She sighed, typing up some information on her computer.
"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you, but I need a little help." The male voice on the other end began to speak sheepishly. "A student at your school recently dropped out, and he's now in the middle of applying for a small position with our symphony. I just needed to verify the classes he was taking prior to this. Would it be too much trouble too...?" He dropped the rest, and Karen gave her tired shoulders a little shrug. It wasn't completely kosher, but this was no longer a student...
"Is it important that you have these records?"
"Extremely. We have many qualified candidates, and I need to verify that he has sufficient musical training to keep up if we select him." He explained calmly. "If mailing is too much trouble, I could do it on the phone. All I need is the past year's courses, and the names of his professors for references." With a small pause, he waited for the woman to take the bait.
"What the student's name?"
"Erik Destler. I believe he mentioned studying with a certain...Professor Firmin?" He feigned a memory lapse, but sat with a pen and pad on his lap. As she gave him course numbers and names he wrote intently. He had a little theory to try out, and information was vital to him. The key to everything would be music, he was sure of it.
Mrs. Giry had just placed Madeleine to bed when she came into the living room and discovered Nadir deep in thought. Blaming himself or justifying?
"Antoinette, I know you're there." He sensed her, the way one could sense a cold winter from the slight ache in the bones. Innate and natural, even though mixed feelings surrounded them. He heard her walk, then saw her sit on the coffee table in front of him.
"Shall I assume I know why you're so thoughtful tonight?" She asked, taking his hands away from his lap and into her own. He merely watched her. "Christine Daae chose him, you know. For better or worse, they're together now."
"I suppose it's out of my hands now." He admitted. "And, if you'd seen the way she looked at him as we drove...she loves him with a kind of blindness I at first found worrisome."
"And now?" She smiled slightly.
"Now, I think it is the only way Erik can be loved. Perhaps that's why I did not understand. Because I can't feel that kind of-"
"He is not your son, Nadir." She spoke quietly, "He never asked that of you. Even when you took him in, he wanted to live alone, to find his heart on his own."
He was surprised at the woman he'd married. He'd never said anything about wanting to be Erik's father, or of feeling that kind of paternal responsibility for the boy, but somehow she'd felt it.
"If I can't replace the memory of Andre for him, what am I-"
"His friend, Nadir." She responded. "He's accepted you, in his own way, as his friend." To this Nadir gave a sad laugh.
"A friend...yes, a friend who couldn't comprehend him, extraordinary as the situation might have been. What good is friendship now?"
Mrs. Giry placed her hands on either side of his face, and kissed his brow sweetly before looking back into his eyes. "Forgiveness. For Erik, that can only exist in true friendship." She watched Nadir return her smile, then leaned in to rest his head on her shoulder. "Go see him. He might still be feverish and in need of your help."
"I love you, you know." He stated matter-of-factly. This earned a light laugh from his wife.
"If you didn't, I wouldn't put up with you." When she heard his deep laugh she settled into his hold. "I love you, too," she admitted shyly.
They'd remained in each other's arms the whole night, touching to reassure that the other was still there. Though exahusted, neither had been able to sleep. They were, in short, enamoured with the sensual experience of the object of their affection. He could spend the whole night soaking in the scent of Christine's light perfume, or feeling the tickling of her brown curls around his face as she held him. Christine had missed the very rumbling in his chest as he breathed, and could not get enough of the sound now that he was near.
"Why did you come looking for me?" He finally asked the question he needed her to answer. "Exactly how much did Mrs. Giry tell you?" He knew Christine had been told something about his past...otherwise, how had she known to go to the old house? He felt Christine stiffen as he spoke, and paled.
"Erik," she spoke softly, trying not to upset him. Erik instead sat up suddenly, throwing them both off-balance. He turned away from her, on one side of the bed.
"She told you everything, didn't she?" He spoke in a fierce whisper, the shame clearly written on his features if she had only been able to see it.
"I...was told everything I needed to know, but not by the person I needed to hear it from." She spoke softly, and reached her hand to his shoulder. "It's thanks to her that I came back, Erik."
"You mean it's thanks to Mrs. Giry that you had enough pity to return." Again, he was back to blocking her, so very wary of her affection. He shrugged her hand away from his shoulder. She knew what he really was now. Why else would she want to see him again? "Do you want to look into my face and try to find the monster hidden under the skin?" He spoke with such bitterness, since it was easier to be angry than to show his fear.
He heard her move, and felt the shift of weight on his bed. He expected her to feel hurt or cry, perhaps even leave him alone in his room. What he did not expect was for her to stand before him, eyes blazing, or to feel the sting of her palm against his cheek. The sound seemed to echo in his ears, and he brought a hand to his injured cheek. She merely stared at him, unafraid of retribution.
"Erik Destler! I have had enough of your attempts at distance." She shook her head in her anger, and Erik could only stare at this woman. "Always secretive, never allowing yourself to feel or be healed- all because of your face! You would blame me," she scoffed, "you would push me away for trying to make sense of you? Well, I won't stand for it." Her anger was dissipating quickly, leaving her shaking. Her hand moved to his face, tracing the hairline. "This haunted face holds no horror..."
"Stop." It was the only word he could force through his lips as he looked at her, but he meant it. She shook her head again.
"Only if you don't love me...only then," she whispered. "I can't leave you alone otherwise." Her knees buckled and she sank to the floor in front of him. "Can't you see that's why I won't stop?" She buried her face in her hands, trying to keep composure. Couldn't he understand her love at all?
She felt his arms encircling her, the hot breath against her neck. He was so afraid, so unsure, and it showed in his touch. "Christine..."
"Erik, I love you," her hands found their way around him, too. She raised her head and pressed her lips to his light scar. "Don't be afraid of me anymore."
He nestled her close, the slap completely forgotten. Who was she, to be able to stand up to the doubts that had been eating at him for years? Even though he'd tried to push her away once more, she'd fought back and held on. And now, he felt a painful love for her, a promise of the growth that might happen in the time they shared to come.
"I'm sorry."
AN: This definitely made me happy. Let me know if you have an opinion, be it good or bad. And happy holidays, my diehard readers!
