The Light of His Life
Disclaimer: Don't own POTO… but I do own Piers and I do think David Attenborough is darling.
A/N: Thanks once again, dear reviewers… So, Erik is not very nice in the first part of this chapter but he knows when he's gone too far and he'll fix it… won't he?
Please read and review…
Chapter 5: A Step Too Far…
"Christine?" somebody said from their doorstep, looking oddly at the two of them as Erik stood there holding her in his arms, both of them wearing shreds of what they had previously been wearing.
"Oh, bugger…" Christine sighed.
"What the hell's going on?" Meg asked, bewildered at the sight in front of her. She had just arrived a minute ago and had rung the doorbell before hearing Erik's car pull up into the drive. Now, she was confronted with the sight of her best friend in the arms of her foster-father, both of them wearing little in the way of clothing and Christine very much without her shoes.
"Meghan," Christine started as Erik attempted to cover her where the dress – what was left of the dress – was not. "I know this looks… suspect. But I swear to you that I can explain…"
"Really…? 'Cause it looks to me and the rest of the world like you've just been having sex in his car…"
"You are being lewd and absurd, Miss Giry," Erik said, glaring at her as he unlocked the door and brought Christine inside. "I suggest you go home before I call your mother."
"Call her then – see what she does when I tell her what you've been doing to your daughter…"
Erik lowered Christine to her feet in the entrance hall and stormed over to the offending girl on his doorstep. "You would dare to threaten me? Watch it, girl, I am not one to allow bothersome individuals to continue to cause me grief…"
"I can't believe you just said that…"
"Well, believe it because it is the closest thing to a warning you are going to receive from me."
"Erik," Christine said firmly from behind him, turning him around to face her. "Don't threaten Meg – it isn't her fault that you are in such a foul mood." She then turned towards her best friend and gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Meg… for all his front, he would never hurt you."
Meg then watched as Erik became angry at Christine again and placed his hands on her shoulders so that she could not move away. "Don't you ever speak for me again, do you understand? I won't have you undermining me." He turned back to face Meg. "You can't come in – Christine is grounded and she will not be receiving visitors until I see fit to let her." He moved to slam the door in her face but Meg quickly put her foot there to stop him, worried for what he might do to her friend.
Christine, however, seemed to sense that and tried to reassure her. "It's alright, Meg – he won't hurt me… he'll make a lot of idle threats and then he'll calm down and apologise. I'm not really grounded."
"I can't believe your cheek, Christine," Erik hissed, successfully closing the door behind him this time as Meg stood outside for a while, unsure of what to do for the best. "You would dare to go against what I just said again…?"
"I'm going upstairs, Erik… when you've cooled down, I'll be waiting for my apology but I certainly can't talk to you when you're like this."
Livid, Erik slammed his fist against the wall next to her and took hold of her, dragging her forcefully up the stairs. "I don't think so, sweetheart… you will stay in your room where I have put you until I decide that you can come out. You will think about what you've done and then you will tell me what you did wrong and swear to me that it'll never happen again." Still in his rage-induced trance-like state, he went as far as to bind her wrists behind her back and throw her on top of the bed before locking both of the doors that led to her room. He would not be swayed to mercy this night…
Erik opened his eyes lazily and spent a few minutes in silent confusion before looking at his bedside clock and wondering why Christine hadn't woken him up. It was late morning and she was at least three hours behind in getting him up. He fumed silently… perhaps she had decided to have a lie-in and he would have to make his own breakfast. He didn't like that idea one bit. It was not that he was a bad cook, but rather that he didn't have his angel's patience – she always made sure that he had eaten properly whereas he would probably just go without if he didn't have her there to look after. Many years ago, it had been a habit of his to eat rarely and unhealthily until he had found in his care a very lovely young girl whom he would not let go without. Since then, he had become used to one or other of them making breakfast for both of them and he rather enjoyed not being hungry all day. Speaking of which, his stomach was rumbling and she was still nowhere to be seen.
He got out of bed begrudgingly, slipping his favourite robe over his shoulders and decided to have a look for his angel – she could not have gotten far… But, she was not in the kitchen, she was not in the lounge, she was not in the conservatory, she was not in the dining room, she was not in the breakfast room – she was not downstairs…
So he went back upstairs and he headed straight for the music room because it was late morning and it wasn't like her to lie in so late. But, she was not there, and she was not in the library, she was not in the study, she was not in his room, she was not in any of the guest rooms – she could only be in her own room…
But, it wasn't until he found her door oddly locked that he remembered what had transpired the previous evening and what exactly he had done before locking that door. Hurriedly, he turned the key in the lock and swung the door open before moving to the still figure in the bed who had not appeared to have moved very far since he had last seen her.
"Christine," he said cautiously from the foot of her bed. He had the unaccountable fear that he had somehow hurt her. Approaching her slowly, he sat down on the edge of the bed behind her and placed a hand upon her arm. It was cold from having the covers off of her all night and he felt awful, sharp pangs of guilt stab him for losing his temper so easily with her.
Quickly, he got something to cut the ties away from her wrists and then turned her over onto her back to see if she was alright, even as his heart thundered wildly within his chest in panic. "Darling, waken up…"
To his utter relief, her eyes fluttered open and she stared up at him for a moment, a slight frown upon her face. Then, quite to his shock, he earned a sharp slap across his cheek before she slipped out of the bed beneath him and walked into her closet, presumably to change out of her ruined dress.
He was still propped up on her bed, holding a hand against his cheek in shock, when she walked out wearing more casual clothes and an obvious air of anger. "Christine," he said, unsure of what else he could do. But she just kept moving, ignoring him as she walked right out of the now unlocked door that led into the hall.
"Christine, come back…"
"Or what, Erik…?" she shouted, breaking her silence as he followed her down the stairs. "Will you tie me up again? Will you lock me in my room?"
"I'm sorry…"
"Is that supposed to make up for everything? You know, before, people used to tell me that you were like this… but I didn't believe them – I thought you would never do anything to hurt me…"
"I didn't mean to… I just get these terrible rages and I don't know what I'm doing…"
"All the more reason why I shouldn't be around you…" she said as she took his car keys and unlocked the doors.
"What are you doing?" he asked frantically, trying to get between her and the car.
"Don't worry, Erik, I'm not trying to steal your car… I'm just getting my shoes from last night."
"Why do they matter – I'm trying to talk to you?" That earned him another stinging slap across the face and a cold glare.
"They were my mother's…"
"Oh, Christine, I am so sorry…" He felt like an utter fool for everything. For having listened to that bitch, Carlotta… for implying that she'd slept with that boy… for scaring her… for hurting her… for having broken something of such sentimental value to his angel… for having called her 'cheap'… for having threatened her… for having drawn a knife on her… for having ripped her new dress in his twisted temper… for having dragged her upstairs… for having tied her up – more than once that night… for having locked her in her room all night without providing her with any means to take care of herself… for having been able to get to sleep even while she suffered in the room adjoining his… for having forgotten in the morning… for having been more worried about where his breakfast was than remembering where she was… and for having let it get this far…
He apparently hadn't noticed her re-enter the house and hastily made his way back in so that he might try to make it up to her properly. He could hear her moving around in her room and took the stairs two at a time to get back to her.
"What are you doing?" he asked desperately as he walked in to see her packing a suitcase.
"I'm packing, what does it look like I'm doing?"
"Why are you packing? Why are you…? What is…? Why…?"
"Let's see, let me make a verbal list of all the reasons why I am not staying with you…" She proceeded to count them off on her fingers, though he was too concerned with what she was doing to pay attention.
"But why are you packing?"
"I'm leaving, Erik – I'm leaving you…"
"Erik, what's wrong?"
"She's gone…" he whispered, just another tear of many rolling down his face.
"What do you mean 'she's gone'?" Piers asked as he opened his door fully to Erik and welcomed him in.
"She's gone…"
"Yes, I heard that part… is there more to this story?" He got Erik seated in one of the armchairs in his lounge before sitting across from him, himself.
"She's gone…"
"Christine?"
He nodded solemnly and lowered his head into his hands as Piers got up to get him a drink. "I can't believe she's gone… we haven't spent a night apart in thirteen years."
"Where has she gone?"
"Home, she said…"
"Home…? I don't understand…"
"She's gone home… to her home… to her house where she lived with her parents…"
"She still has her old house?" he asked, confused. "Erik… forgive my bluntness, but, what the hell did you do?"
"What didn't I do…? The upshot of it is that I insulted her, broke something her mother gave to her and locked her in her room all night…"
There was something about Erik that made him want everyone to hate him as opposed to just hating himself, so, he felt compelled to tell Piers the whole story when he asked and recanted what she has said before she left…
"Why haven't you gone after her? Called her…? Sent a bleeding telegram for all I care…?"
"She told me not to follow her… that, if I did, she would tell social services what I had done to her…"
"That's it?" Piers asked, astounded that that was all that was keeping Erik from his Christine. "You're telling me that you're too frightened of what social services will do to you if you go and try to reconcile with your daughter…? That is not the Erik I know…" Actually, he supposed nobody really knew Erik… except Christine.
"No, I couldn't care less what they would do to me – I care that they will take her off of me… that they will put her in a care home with all of those unwanted creatures and place her with some godforsaken carers somewhere who don't love her like I do… I care that she will be unhappy… I care about her. I love her."
"I know that you love her, Erik… it is not hard to see. You do not hide it – and she can see it too… Leave it tonight, hmm? Go and see her in the morning when she's cooled down and she will forgive you, I know she will. It might take some time and some serious flattery on your part but you will be together again, I'm sure."
"But, I don't think I can go a whole night without seeing her…" Erik complained, raising his head as he took the brandy from Piers.
"You can't go one night?"
"No…"
"Then you know what you have to do," Piers said, placing his hand on top of Erik's glass before he took anything to drink. "Go to her… you're lucky you didn't drink anything or else you might just have to wait until morning… Oh, and Erik…?"
"Hmm?"
"You might want to think about changing out of your pyjamas… it's two in the afternoon…"
"Oh, I knew I shouldn't have left you alone with him," Meg said as she placed her arm around Christine. "I should have called my mum and told her what was happening…"
"No, Meg… it's alright, she couldn't have done anything…"
"She could have gotten you away from him…"
"Oh, Meg," Christine sobbed, still crying. "I don't want to be away from him."
"Christine, I know you're reluctant to let go because he raised you… but, you can't let him keep doing these things to you. Victims of domestic abuse often–"
"Domestic abuse…? What are you talking about, Meg? He doesn't abuse me."
"Christine, I know you feel you have to protect him, but, he's not here – he can't hurt you… you did the right thing, leaving him. Now, if you'll just tell someone you can stop him from ever doing it again."
"He hasn't done anything," Christine said defensively, pulling away from Meg.
"Just the other week, you told me that he'd kissed you… now, he's practically undressed you, been violent towards you and tied you up! Not to mention, locking you in your room all night… what does he have to do – how far does he have to go to get you to realise that he is abusive towards you? Does he have to kill you?"
"Erik would never do that!" Christine shouted, jumping up from the sofa in shock. "To even think such a thing is blasphemous… You don't know him like I do – you haven't seen him every day and every night for the last thirteen years. I know what he is really like – you only know what I tell you and I don't tell you the good things because they are between me and my Angel and not to be shared with anyone else."
Meg sighed, exasperated and unsure of what to do. She was startled out of her seat when the doorbell rang and Christine, still incensed, walked out of the room to the door, knowing precisely who would be waiting there with his proverbial tail between his very nice legs.
She looked at him through the one-way videophone and pressed the button so that he could hear her. "Yes?" she asked him coldly as Meg came slowly to stand at her side while she talked.
"Darling, please, let me in so that we might talk."
"What could you possibly have to say that I would want to hear?"
"My beautiful child," he said, swallowing thickly. "If you let me in… I will explain to you why I am the way I am. I'll tell you everything… everything that has happened in my life to make me that way… the reasons I fought for you so readily…"
"Don't let him in," Meg whispered from her side.
Partly to spite Meg and show her what he really like, and partly because she wanted to hear what had happened in her Angel's life to make him so possessive of her, she put the code in to open the gate and waited until he was at the door before unlocking it for him. He had always had a key to her home – but, out of his courtesy and love towards her, he would not take that liberty.
He was quite surprised to see Meg standing beside Christine when he was let in and both of them were equally quite surprised to see that he seemed to still be wearing his pyjamas and robe.
"I'll see you later, Meg," Christine said, without taking her eyes off of Erik.
"Oh, no, no way – I am not leaving you alone with him again… I won't make that mistake twice."
"Meg, please – just leave us alone… I want to hear what he has to say."
Reluctantly, Meg walked out onto the doorstep and watched as the door was shut in her face before walking down the drive and out of the gates purposefully. She didn't care what Christine said – listening to her had gotten her friend hurt last night when she could've stopped it – so, she resolved to tell her mother as soon as she got home. She would be as fast as she could and she knew that her mother would know exactly what to do…
Even though he could understand it, Erik was hurt when he moved to embrace his angel – as he always did in greeting or when she was upset – and she backed away from him, looking away pointedly. When had they become so awkward around each other? When you tied her up! a voice he did not want to listen to said.
"Go through," she said, pointing towards a door in the back of the entrance hall where he knew the sitting room was. It had been a few years since they'd been in her house and many of the dustcovers were still in place… it was a slightly unnerving situation.
"I'd offer you something to drink but I have only recently found myself living here and I don't have anything in," she said bitterly as he sat down on the sofa where she and Meg had previously been sitting.
"Christine, please, come home," Erik pleaded, pulling her unceremoniously to sit beside him. "There is everything you need there and I will always be there to protect you…"
"And who'll protect me from you, Erik?" she asked.
He cringed at that, hurt beyond words that he'd made her feel that she needed protection from him. Was there any hope for them?
Abruptly, he was surprised to feel something fall upon his shoulders until he realised that she had put a blanket around him. He couldn't understand how she could be so considerate and angry at him all at once. But he smiled…
Yes, he decided, there was always hope…
His smile was confusing Christine beyond belief as he remembered another time he had discovered hope in their relationship… and he found himself oddly compelled to tell her about it.
"Do you remember that time, last year, when you couldn't sleep and you made me stay up with you?" he asked, sentimentally.
Two figures sat lazily next to each other on the sofa in the living room of their house, in a state of quiet bafflement. They were both staring straight ahead at the picture on the screen in front of them, quite perplexed at what they were watching…
Christine had wakened up during the night and hadn't been able to get back to sleep, so, being the utterly selfless and considerate girl that she was, had proceeded to jump on top of Erik while he slept, subsequently scaring the bejesus out of him, but still reaching her ultimate goal of waking him up too. She had then dragged him downstairs still in his pyjamas and a state of confusion to the living room where they were now seated with the television on.
They had been there for about an hour now, both of them too tired to move and half-lying, half-sitting in a lazy heap half on top of each other with their respective legs tucked under themselves so that their bare feet wouldn't get cold. It was only now, after a full sixty minutes of bewilderment, that Erik had the presence of mind to speak…
"What are we watching?" he asked, still staring straight ahead in a sort of morbid fascination.
"I think it's some kind of exercise programme…"
"Who exercises at three in the morning?"
"People with far too much time on their hands…"
"Mmm…" he hummed vaguely, yet still not having turned away from the screen. "Are you punishing me?"
"Punishing you? Why should I be punishing you?"
"I'm not entirely sure… but you are."
"Then why are you still watching?"
"Can't seem to tear my eyes away…"
"Mmm, me, neither…"
Unexpectedly, both of them tilted their heads to the left at exactly the same time and made an odd sort of pained noise in their throats as they screwed up their faces.
"Christine," Erik gasped desperately, raising his knees to his chest in protection as he saw a position that he didn't particularly like because of its threat to a specific part of his anatomy. "Why are we watching this?"
"Remote… too far…" she said, raising her hand as far as she could without moving the rest of her to demonstrate.
"Oh…" he mumbled, seeming to accept that reasoning even as they both continued to watch. "Will it be over soon, do you think?"
"I don't think so, Angel… this is the Exercise Channel… or some such rubbish."
A haunted look came across Erik's face and he could swear he had started sweating in panic. "Tell me, what bloody reason could there be that the station was set to the Exercise Channel? Who watches this stuff? In our home…? And why, why, do we even have the Exercise Channel? Why am I paying for this tosh that I never watch?"
"Such are the mysteries of life, my Angel…"
"Kill me… kill me, now…"
Instead, Christine shifted position slightly and rested more against his side, bringing her hand up absently to tangle in his hair. It would not have been much to anyone else, but, to Erik, it was everything and, even as they lazed there, entranced by the television, he came up with an idea to make her happier…
He set to fashioning a makeshift lasso out of the belt on his robe and used his perfect aim to loop the noose around the remote which was lying on one of the adjoining armchairs. It was not as precise as his 'normal' lasso, but it did the trick and brought the control to the floor in front of him as he gathered the required energy to pick it up.
"Here you go, sweetheart," he said, handing it to her and then wrapping his arms around her waist. "Your choice…"
"My hero…" She started flicking through the stations…
"It's at times like these that I realise exactly how many pointless channels I am paying for… I don't think we've watched even half of them before… I think we could live with terrestrial, do you know that?"
"So," she said, ignoring his little rant, "we have a choice of… the Ashes, a rerun of the rugby that was on yesterday, a documentary about bugs with David Attenborough… or a film with his brother."
"One of the Attenboroughs, I think, love."
"Hmm… David then…" she said, smiling to herself.
"But you hate insects…"
"Yes, Angel, but have you ever heard David Attenborough talk… he has a wonderful voice… and he's so funny – I saw him on Parkinson and–"
"I don't feel like watching bugs, tonight – I think I deserve the right to choose seeing as you woke me up…" he said jealously, taking the control away from her. "You don't like cricket, do you?"
"Actually–"
"Rugby…?"
"Well–"
"Richard Attenborough…?"
"Not especially…"
"Good – we're watching that film then," he said decisively, placing the remote control on the arm of the sofa furthest away from her.
Christine looked at him oddly as he basked in his triumph next to her. He was so… strange.
"Don't you like David Attenborough, Angel?"
Not anymore… "I'm trying to listen to the film, Christine."
She looked between the television screen and her Angel again, perplexed not for the first time that night. "It's the break… and there is an advert on for one of those all-night hotlines than men usually phone, if you get what I'm saying…"
He hadn't even noticed and looked back at her, preferring that she know that he was jealous than think that he was interested in talking to the bottle-blonde woman draping herself across a misplaced bed while talking on the phone and making some very suggestive faces towards the camera, which actually completely unnerved him. He hoped he'd never meet a woman like that…
"Are you… jealous?" Christine asked suspiciously. "You are, aren't you?"
"I am not jealous," he said, trying to appear indifferent. Unfortunately, his lovely companion knew him all too well…
"What was all that about then?"
"I merely do not feel like watching a programme about bugs…"
"But you like Beautiful Planet… Why are you jealous, Angel?"
"I am not jealous! And, if you will keep going on like this, then David Attenborough can have you…"
"You are jealous," Christine laughed, turning Erik back to face her as he looked away. "But why…?"
"I'm not jealous…"
"Whatever you say, Angel…"
What was this peculiar need he had for her to believe him? He flipped the channel back over reluctantly and held his head high. "If you really want to watch a documentary about bugs then we shall…"
"Thank you, Angel," Christine beamed at him and he decided it was all worth it if she just did that. And, perhaps, just perhaps, it spoke of hope for the two of them that she was attracted to a man of that age, even if just his voice… because, goodness knows, Erik, even, was younger than him and, if she could look at a man like David Attenborough and watch a programme about insects because of him, then she could do things like that for Erik, surely.
At least, he hoped so…
"Well, that was rather… random. What has it got to do with what happened last night?"
"Does it not speak of our relationship? Does it not show you how well we get on – how good we are for each other?" he asked, hopeful.
"No, it speaks of your jealousy even then and your need to have things your own way. It speaks of the tantrums you throw when you do not get your own way and it speaks of how childish you can be…"
For all the world, he had not expected that interpretation to come from his angel about the little memory he had retrieved. "But, I let you watch what you wanted in the end… I gave in. I showed you that you meant more to me than being so childish. I stayed up all night with you watching bugs and then I fell asleep next to you, bent into an awkward position so that you would be comfortable… I pulled the blanket right up to your chin so that you would not go cold even as it left me half uncovered and shivering in the unheated room. And, when morning came and I couldn't sleep, I carried you up to bed and made you your favourite breakfast so that you wouldn't have to get up. I would never do all that for anyone else," he said sincerely, placing his hand beneath her chin as he saw her soften.
"Do you know how special you are to me?" She nodded vaguely, too overcome with an emotion she couldn't readily decipher to speak. "Do you know how much I love you?" He received no response for this even as he raised her chin so that she would look at him. "No… how could you? No one in the world could ever know how much I love you – it is my gift to you… for you to know that you are the most loved woman in all of the universe – no creature has ever loved more fantastically or more fully a being of any majesty than I love you, beloved."
Christine looked straight into his eyes, suspiciously, testing his sincerity. But, she could find no trace of deception and prepared herself to give in to his requests that she come home.
"I'll go home with you, Erik, if you do as you promised and tell me everything about your life as soon as we get there… I don't know about you, but I need a cup of tea and some lunch inside me."
"Yes, beloved, anything so that you might come home," he said happily, rejoicing that she believed him and would perhaps, in time, forgive him for his misdeeds upon her. He was very much ready to try to embrace her again when he was cut short by the sound of the doorbell. "Who could that be?"
"Probably Meg back to check that you haven't done away with me and left my carcass in the bathtub," she said lightly.
However, Erik did not take any talk – serious or otherwise – on the subject of her death, to be light… "Don't ever say that…" he said emotionally, standing up with her and making sure that she knew he was terribly serious before heading towards the door with her in a similar fashion to the way they would if they were at home and had never even fallen out.
"I don't believe it," Erik sighed, his arm draped casually around Christine's shoulders as they looked at the picture on the videophone. "What is she doing here?"
© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, December 2005
I'm sorry I keep ending in cliffies… but, at least I resolved one thing in this chapter…