Chapter Seventeen
Throughout her lesson that morning, Erik found it far easier to channel his feelings through anger and requiring perfection from the young woman before him. When she gave him confused, sometimes hurt looks, he ignored them, plowing further into various breathing techniques and posture requirements. While her mind appeared to be in multiple angles of the world, there was something in her that seemed different. She was trying, she was really trying. Not out of regiment, but she seemed to want to get things right for her own. That was satisfying. He had not realized it was afternoon until much later because of it.
He left her alone for lunch, finding tasks that needed attending to in the Study. There wasn't much for her to eat, just some sliced cheese and bread, but she took him up on the offer quickly. The time he gave her for lunch suddenly seemed too long and he returned to the kitchen quicker than he said he would call her back in.
They started to continue into her branching a few notes in her range, working with the elongated breaths from earlier. She was catching on quickly, her fears of her instrument becoming few. As he challenged her, she seemed to challenge him right back. Their lesson becomes more like a sport of range and air until she finally collapsed on the couch from exhaustion. He nodded. While he wasn't ready to end until perfection was reached, he knew that she would never get there if her instrument lost its will.
By that time, the sun had already set behind the houses and no one had come to restore the power or plow the road. This evening could be worse from the last on account of ice that was once melted by the sun, refreezing once it was gone. When he looked back at her again, her head was heavy on the arm of the couch. He watched her slowly give way to sleep. She would not be returning home this night either. The conditions would be too treacherous to walk out once she woke.
An uncontainable smile tugged at his cheeks.
Finding some penne in one of his cabinets, he began to prepare her something for dinner. It wasn't much, he knew, but it was something. He put some olive oil over it when it was finished and set out a plate with a glass of water. A scowl crossed him. In some ways, he knew that the bachelor lifestyle did suite him well.
She was still asleep when he returned, this time Roach had managed to curl up in her lap. He rolled his eyes. The name suited the cat too well.
"Ms Gallagher," He spoke from the door.
A blue eye peeked out from the blonde sea that now covered her face.
"I prepared dinner."
She sprung up and looked out of the window. The sun had gone down an hour or so prior.
"Oh no." She looked back at him, "I need to go home."
"I'm not keeping you," He said casually, despite how the words felt to say, "Keep in mind the ice."
Her eyes were tired and livid. "Why didn't you wake me?"
Erik's arms crossed stubbornly, "I'm not your keeper."
"I never…" She looked at me strangely, "I can't stay here."
"Enjoy your freezing basement."
She stood to throw off the quilt and the cat. He noted the shiver that crossed her. "I will enjoy it. Because it's my house."
His hands raised and he shrugged, "Good."
"Yes. Good!"
She looked around for a moment, "Are my coat and things dried from yesterday?"
"I doubt it."
"Could you not have used the generator for that, at least?"
"I didn't see it as necessary. I'm going to have dinner. Goodnight, Ms Gallagher."
Erik turned to the kitchen and sat at his place. The front door opened for a moment, then shut again. She sighed loudly from the hall before finally making her way to the table. Once seated, she put her head in her hands.
"If you're going to leave, it would be better to do that sooner than later," He recounted with a smirk.
"You know I'm not going to leave, Dr Underwood," she mumbled.
"That's your choice, isn't it?"
She looked up at him, her eyes thin with anger, "Not really."
He shrugged again and continued eating. She, eventually, followed and ate the penne he set out for her. He noted the redness in her face from anger and how it slowly melted away once they began to converse. Erik, once again, tried to mask his smile.
After dinner, a dinner that he found rather amusing, they returned to the Study. She took the quilt back from Roach and placed it over her shoulders. A part of Erik wished she would come closer to himself rather than the fire. Shoving that thought forcefully from his head, he spoke casually, "You are free to read if you like."
She nodded and went off to pick a book. He sat with his long legs crossed and made myself comfortable on his side of the fireplace with a massive copy of one of the proposed budgets for the upcoming year. Perhaps having her around would make this task less tedious? Once she had sat down she noticed his reading material.
"That's Bill's budget proposal, isn't it?" she asked.
"You can hardly call it a proposal to be taken seriously." He muttered.
"I agree," she leaned back on the wall opposite of him on the fireplace, "Was there ever a time when he wrote less and planned more?"
"You read this?" His visible eyebrow rose.
"I'm a faster reader than Raoul. He paid me to give him notes."
"Typical." Erik's eyes fell on the material as he tried to make the conversation casual, "What did you think?"
"GOP nonsense." He noted that she looked away after saying this as if embarrassed somehow. "Just out to make the rich richer and the poor poorer," she muttered.
"I agree with you."
"Then why do you keep reading it?"
"So I can remind him that he had someone actually write this garbage for him to propose. Making him look like a fool on C-SPAN is one of my favorite past times." He took a breath before asking a question he found himself a little too excited to ask, "Did you happen to see it?"
"Of course. Watching C-SPAN for Raoul was another one of my paid duties. He asked me to follow up on reports every now and then. I thought your opposition to Bill's last budget plan was kind of funny," she said making him look back to her, "I learned a few more synonyms for the word 'lunacy.'"
"That's a kind way to say it, Ms Gallagher. However, the GOP blamed me as one of the front-runners for the shut down because I wouldn't let them have an easy fight."
She laughed lightly, "God forbid they ever take any blame for that catastrophe themselves."
Erik looked at her seriously, "Was there a plan you preferred at all from any of the proposals?"
"As a part of the ninety-nine per cent? Not one. As a member of Raoul Peter's office, Ben's plan seemed okay."
Part of his mouth twitched up to a smile, "I agree."
Christine Gallagher was smart. She played herself as otherwise, but Erik was finding more and more brilliance in her. They spoke later that evening on the same subjects. While she was hesitant to give her ideas on politics to him, she opened up a little later with some thoughts that were actually very resourceful. She was good at being able to see multiple sides of various issues and her ideas incorporated various spectrums of resolution. He even found himself learning from her a little as she had been closer to the lower class than he had been in a decade. By the end of the evening, he was beginning to wonder if he needed her too.
XVII
It had gotten so late into the night that it could hardly be called the same day any more. The fire burned low as if it too were ready to find sleep. Christine's lids hung low over her eyes, her back against the side of the fireplace that she kept. Opposite of her, Underwood sat in a similar position, his eyes lightly fixed on hers. The conversation had gotten slower and slower until finally, the pauses threatened to last until morning.
"Tell me what you're thinking, Ms Gallagher." He whispered the next time her heavy eyes fluttered open.
She smiled a little, "I'm wondering why we get along better at night."
He laughed a little, not able to hide his smirk, "Why do you say that?"
Choosing not to face his eyes, she spoke to the fire, "I didn't like you today. You were…like you usually are with everyone else."
"And how am I perceived by everyone else?"
She smiled weakly, "Like you don't know?"
"I'm curious to your analyzation."
She looked forward, away from the fire and tucked her hair behind her ear, "You're cold and business minded. I always noticed how no one approached up in the halls, everyone seemed to fear you. You're known for your private meetings. You're known for cutting out the lobbyists and going straight to the source, and never denying it. Still, I have issues imagining that you were any nicer in a private setting than you ever were at work."
"Is that to say that you think I'm nicer at night?"
Her answer came quickly, "I don't know, but I like you more like this. You don't remind me of everyone else on the Hill. They're all two-faced and cruel." She looked up to him and bit her lip over her idiocy, "Wow, that was so stupid to say."
Surprisingly, he didn't retaliate and answered casually, "Give me some credit. I'm hardly as incompetent as the majority. Two faced or not."
She signed and relaxed a little then shook her head, "That's not what I mean." A hand lightly went over her chest, "It's like, it's like you have a heart."
"Perhaps I'm a quality thespian," He scoffed, "Pre sixteenth century mask work, I believe."
To this, she smiled and whispered, "Then I'm not the only one hiding flaws."
At first, he looked almost hurt by what she had said, but when his eyes contacted hers, he softened. She was not speaking of his mask, she never would. It was not for her to judge when someone as complex as Erik Underwood sat at an equal level with her only a few feet away.
"You strike me, Ms Gallagher."
She wasn't sure how to take such a comment, but answered him without much thought, "Then I guess that makes our bargain a bit more equal."
The two of them sat opposite of each other for a long time. Christine's eyes open and shut, her head bobbled a little from resting its weight against the thick wood framing behind her. Oddly enough, whenever she happened to open her eyes even for a second, where he was before her, his eyes stuck to her as if she were the only thing of interest or value in the room. Part of her wanted to look farther into his eyes, but sleep was quickly taking her away.
His next whispered words truly surprised her well enough out of sleep, "Must you leave tomorrow?"
A heat was creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. She answered quickly, hoping he wouldn't see it, half of her wishing she hadn't opened her eyes at all so she could pretend she had been asleep. Giving herself a moment to think, she decided to comment as unconcerned as she could, "You'll have to stop me from running. Remember that daytime you and I don't see eye to eye."
"Then another night."
This time, she opened her eyes more fully and looked back at him. The look in his slightly mix mated eyes was serious and made the heat on her face grow. This couldn't really be happening. He couldn't really be asking her to stay with him longer than what was agreed upon. It was too strange. She laughed nervously, to break the tension.
"Really, Dr. Underwood-"
"Why is it that we call each other by formal titles?" he pressed on, this time looking away from her and seeming to not wait for her to come up with an answer.
"Um, well, it seemed like the thing to do. The professional choice for someone in my position and someone in yours."
"Professionalism, indeed. But you mean in Congress."
"Well, yeah."
He shrugged, "We're not in Congress now."
"No… I guess we're not."
He looked back at her, a new hopeful light in his eyes. "Christine," her name slid out of his mouth so smoothly that the heat in her face managed to pick up again. "That wasn't too inappropriate was it?"
She laughed in embarrassment, "No."
"Good. And my name?"
Laughter found her again, "You want me to say your first name?"
"I expect you know it."
"Of course I know…" She caught his eyes again without meaning to. There was a strange feeling there, one she truly wasn't sure about. Nonetheless, she spoke quietly, "Erik."
XVII
She woke the same way she had the day before. There was a plain breakfast and quiet company who had somehow expected her to have already read the Washington Post before eating. So, they sat in silence, both of them catching up on various stories. He made no mention of the night before, not even acting as if any pleasant conversations had happened at all. By ten, she decided that if she did not push for a music lesson, that he might as well keep her for the rest of the week. No, she needed time to think, needed time away from him to think. What was worse was that he seemed even meaner that lesson than all others, barking at her for small mistakes and never showing any remorse when she choked down the knot in her throat.
Ironically enough, he seemed to expect her to stay for lunch! Angrily, she shook her head and headed out in the extra layers she had packed from before, telling him that she would come back for her other layers the next day. How very ripe he was as she was putting on her boots!
"There will not be heat at your house." He pointed out.
"The Post said they would start working on it today."
"Don't put faith into this place to function properly." He spat.
"I don't, but I have more clothes at home."
"There will be no exception for your being late tomorrow. None."
"Then I won't be late."
"You had better not be sick from cold either."
"Then I won't get sick."
"I doubt you can control that, Ms. Gallagher."
She turned to look at him completely. Had the entire night gone out of his head? For him to be so cruel that day and finally refer to her by her "formal" name as he put it. She shook her head and headed towards the door, "I'll be fine," she said through her teeth.
"Christine," What sounded like sadness in his voice kept her from turning the knob, "I would not like for you to fall ill." She couldn't help but turn back to him and he continued slowly, "You were correct last night. I am not a kind person during the day. It is who I have had to adapt to be."
He sounded so…sincere. Once again, she was able to relate, just not to how far he was being. She was not forgiving him by any means, but she understood him.
"If it's too cold, I'll come back."
"Good," he whispered.
She nodded and was off.
By the time she reached her house, she was already ready for a nap. Having to crunch through both ice and a thick layer of snow took a lot more effort than she thought it would. Luckily, it was considerably warmer that day than it had been and she hoped that the power would be back sooner than later. While she wasn't looking forward to entering her cold basement, she was ready to gather her thoughts free of distraction. That apparently was not what fate had in mind. Just as she was fiddling for her keys with bare hands, there was a tiny squeal from what sounded like it came from the window.
Even as it had scared her at first, she went to investigate the pot on the window seal that was filled with a fern that Meg had given her a while back. The fern refused to die no matter what the weather was. She liked it. Once close enough to it, she saw a hint of orange under all of the green. The squeal happened again so she pulled up part of the fern to find a ragged looking kitten.
It looked very small and she was afraid what it was doing out there all alone. Looking around the plant, she could only see the tiny foot prints of a kitten, none of a larger mother cat. The kitten looked up to her with gold eyes and squealed again. Not knowing what else to do, she picked it up and held it to her. For all its fur it was very cold and shivered against her.
Once inside, she immidately called Meg only to get her voicemail.
"Hey Meg," Christine started, "I take it your phone is dead. Well, when you get it charged again call me. I found a cat outside and it's really cold and I don't know anything about cats. Tell me what I should do! Okay, thanks, bye."
Well, that was pointless. The cat was small enough to fit in her hand and stayed curled up there. She made a quick loop around her apartment. What was she to do? Sighing, she watched as cloud left her mouth. How was anyone making it with it being so cold everywhere? Not knowing what else to do, she pulled the cat under her outer sweater and kept it there. She felt like a kangaroo with the bump over her stomach.
Forgetting about the nap, she started to make more laps around the apartment looking for mittens for her fringed exposed hands. She eventually settled for socks and put the cat in a sock for good measure. To this, the cat mewed and went to sleep. Taking the comforter off the bed, she wrapped it around them both and sat on the couch.
"How is this not warmer than that quilt?" She asked into the air. "Because the quilt was near the fire. Ah!"
The cat continued to shiver on her stomach and she looked down to it through the top of her stomach. It looked back up at her with wide eyes and mewed again.
"What? Should I go back? Is that really what you're telling me?"
This time the kitten squealed again.
"This is pointless."
She took out her phone and with a heavy sigh, texted Erik.
What do I do with a small cat?
Fortunately, she didn't have to wait long for a response.
Why do you have a small cat?
It was in my fern and now it's shivering. What do I do with it?
Roach could eat it for you.
Can you warm it milk or something?
I'll FedEx you the milk once it's thawed.
She sighed at this stupid situation.
Look, if I come back, it will be for this cat, okay?
If that's how you justify another trip. Be quick. The sun will be going down soon.
Okay.
Changing her clothes and freshening up with some dreadfully cold water, she dressed in three layers of sweaters, pants, and socks this time, including some socks over her hands and an extra sock over the cat. She packed another set of clothes in her backpack this time, also packing her laptop to make answering emails easier the next morning. Once locking her front door, the sun was already behind the houses. She would have to be quick and careful before things started to freeze over again.
It was dark by the time she had reached the house. The kitten mewed at her every time there was wind until it was all put screaming at her. She stopped on the sidewalk, hardly a block from Underwood's house.
"Listen up, cat!" It stopped its protesting and looked up at her as she peer down her sweater, "I'm doing something nice for you. I've been walking over an hour in this snow without my pea coat and with you stuffed up on the warmest part of my body. I'm ignoring my will for you so you can just cool it!"
A few steps later, she couldn't help but laugh at the terrible pun she had just made with it being so cold outside. Once reaching the fence of the house she spoke to the air, "I can't believe I'm already back. This is your fault, you cat!"
Christine made her way up the pathway and steps carefully. Erik stood in the doorway, practically blocking her. She all but growled, "May I come in?"
"As requested," he said quietly moving out of her way.
Once inside, she pulled the orange ball of fur out from her sweater. He laughed at her, but she wasn't going to acknowledge it and instead held the animal up to his masked face.
"What do I do with this?" she demanded, forcing the cat into his larger hands.
He shrugged, "Give it to Roach."
She removed her boots with difficulty over the three pairs of socks, "I'm not letting Roach eat it."
"Roach is hungry."
Placing the boots to the side of the door, she stood up again.
"Food. Yeah, I bet it's hungry. Do you have food for it somewhere? Milk, maybe?"
"I don't waste my food on cats."
"But you let Roach take food from me? Fine." She took the cat back from him and made her way to the kitchen, "I'm going to have a cup of milk. And it's going to be warmed up because I'm cold. And if this cat takes it then I guess its the rules of this house!"
He laughed as she made her way to the back of the house.
hehehehe the plot thickens... Thoughts? Reviews?
Roach and kitten are based after my dudes cats. Pix on the tumblr. capitol intent DOT tumblr dot com