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There were really no words to sum up Erik's initial reaction. I wasn't sure if I was disappointed or relieved—or possibly both.

Erik had said, "Oh."

I had waited until he was in a sane state of mind; we had gone for a pleasant stroll around the lake, I had cooked a nice meal while Erik watched me warily, and then he had told me a story while I lay on his lap.

And then I told him that I was expecting a child.

And he said, "Oh."

I sit up, pushing my hands against his chest so he will look at me. His face is steady—too steady. The face he wears when he's hiding some emotion. And he says nothing else.

What had I been expecting? A shouting match? Objects thrown? I wasn't sure why I was so positive that he would be furious about this child; for some reason, that was the only reaction I could picture him having.

"Erik," I say heatedly. "Are you very angry with me?"

His face changes; the briefest expression flits across his eyes before replaced by that blank look I hate. He blinks. "Angry with you? Why would I be angry with you?"

I feel tension in the air, and his tightness beneath me. His lips press together, and I can see that now he is angry.

"We never—"I start, unsure as I stare into his flaming eyes. "We never talked about it! You never said anything!"

He looks at me, and his grip around my waist has become vice-like. "Are you angry about this child?"

"No, no!" I say, horrified. I can tell he is trying to push me off, and I cling to him with all my feeble might. "I'm just a little frightened." I admit, breathing into his shoulder. It is much easier to look there than his burning eyes.

His arms drop from around me, but I can feel some of his fury evaporate when I say I am scared. As always, he must comfort me in these situations. "Of what?" he asks finally. "Tell Erik what you're frightened of."

"I don't know." I murmur. "So many things, I suppose. I do not know how to raise a child, certainly not down here. And I didn't know what your reaction would be, so I was scared you might be angry because—because you wouldn't want a child. And I can't give birth down here, all alone! I would have to go and hire a midwife, and I know she cannot come down here…"

I trail off miserably as I feel Erik's anger again. "So, you're frightened of having my child." he hisses. "Because I live down here, where no child could ever flourish! Because poor Erik is so selfish that he wouldn't let you go up to get a midwife! Is that what you're frightened of, Christine?"

"No." I say very softly.

I wrap my arms around myself as it seems that Erik will not do it; I crawl off him so I can stay seated by him on the couch. He stares at me curiously. "You do not want… Erik's child? Because you do not want it raised here, by me?"

I shake my head. "I love you, Erik. I am… proud to be carrying your child. But… we must arrange things differently. How are we to raise a child down here?"

He suddenly narrows his eyes. "Is this a ploy to let you live above ground?"

I scowl at him. "Would I sink that low?"

His eyes change, and he looks as though he's thinking for a moment. "Really?" he asks, and I allow myself to get a little hopeful. I nod.

He makes a clicking noise with his tongue. "You do not mind having… something of Erik inside of you?"

His words sting me, and he looks so innocent, so sincere, like her really believes that I would care. I shake my head again and crawl back over to him. "You will help me raise our child, right?" I have a horrible fear that he will reject the child, maybe even hate it.

He laughs. "No."

I blink. "What—what do you mean?"

"I am happy for you if it is what you want—although I pity you for having to carry Erik's child! Erik never thought he would have to worry about anything of the sort, never thought a woman—" He breaks off for a moment, and takes a deep breath. "—Erik never thought he would have to think about it. But now, Erik's seed may be just as deformed as he is, and he pities his lovely wife for that burden—" Tears sting at the corner of my eyes. "But Erik will not harm your child, my love. Erik will stay far away from it. Because Erik is a bad man," His voice drops to a whisper. "And he would be no type of a father."

I pull on his arm, afraid in my heart that every word may be true. "Don't you say such things about yourself!"

Erik watches me calmly. "If it bothers you, I will not." he says dispassionately.

"You will have a child." I whisper. "Something you never thought you would have. Doesn't that make you happy?"

"Christine will have a child." he corrects gently. "And he will treat it with all the respect Christine's child would deserve." He stands up suddenly, leaving my looking up at him in wonder. "Now, shall we go sing?"

I drop my head, my curls obscuring my face. I sniff.

Erik kneels down, lifting up my hair so he can see my face. His expression is guarded again. "Christine? Do not cry, please. I did not mean to make you cry."

"Well, you did." I say bitterly, and I think nothing about sparing Erik's feelings. "You insult me by saying you want nothing to do with our child—Our child—a child that is both yours and mine, equally! A child that you helped create, a child that will need all the love we have to offer, and a child that I cannot raise by myself."

He looks torn for a moment. "What do you want me to say, sweetheart? No, I do not want a child. Yes, I want what will make you happy."

"That's rather contradictory!" I hiss. He frowns.

"I believe it's quite simple, really." he replies. "I love you. You are above all other things."

"And our child?" I ask desperately.

He surveys me with no emotion. "What about it?"

I let out a strangled scream. "What about it? "

"Christine!" he says in alarm, coming back over to me. "Stop it!"

I struggle against him, but he is too strong for me, and he forces me back on the couch. I refuse to look at him, and he twists my head towards him. My arms hang pointlessly at my side and the pressure he is exerting on my automatically makes me fall into his embrace—which is, I notice ironically, the place where I started this.

"Christine," he murmurs into my ear; his voice has taken on an enticing scent of power and control. "Are you very angry with your poor Erik?"

"Yes." I say instantly.

We are both silent for a very long moment. "I do care." he says. "But you do not understand… how I could possibly feel…"

I stay silent, for I know if I am going to get any sort of honest outpouring from Erik, it will be if I do not interrupt him.

"A child." he muses aloud. "My child? In the woman I love… you see how I cannot comprehend that? No, it's not possible. And all the terrible things the child will have—you were right, here is no place to raise a child. And it's all my fault."

"I forgive you." I say, lifting my eyes to the ceiling. He doesn't notice.

"Why must I be involved with the child? Why can it not be yours?"

"Because it's ours." I remind him. "A child needs parents to love them. Both parents." I add.

"My parents destroyed me. I hated them. They hated me. Why would I want to bring an innocent life into this world? I do not. The world will eventually hate them anyway, no matter how hard they try…"

And suddenly he is crying, his face pressed into my hair as tears fall.

I wrap my arms around him, a learned reaction, and he sobs into me unceasingly.

"Christine, Christine," he sobs. "You do not understand."

I keep my little hands around him, listening to his emotions as if they are music. They are deeper than I can picture, more complex than most.

I cannot yell at him anymore. I can only love him, and hope for the best.

And he's right, in the end. I do not understand. And it's unlikely that I ever will.

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