Erik wasted no time in leading me away to my room. I no longer was putting up any type of physical struggle as he took my arm and guided me up the stairs. My whole body felt limp. I could only watch as I was pulled away from Raoul, who only looked at me, dumbfounded.
I feared that he, like me, had also given up the fight. I had given my word to Erik that I would marry him. I was sick of breaking promises. I was done lying and putting others at risk. I was willing to trade it all if only to make it stop. I had even been given a chance to escape once more, when all seemed lost, but my heart made my decision for me. It chose Erik. My resolve was weak, and the thought of him dead had been enough to turn the tide. Erik left my side for a moment to fetch more of the cord that he had bound Genny with. I knew what he intend to do.
"Don't…" I pleaded. I glanced briefly at Raoul. "I have given you my word. I will marry you, Erik, and I won't let anyone interfere." He nodded and I could hear Raoul's footsteps as he backed away from another confrontation. The truth was, I was ashamed to look at him in the eye.
I saw Raoul's hopeless gaze follow me as I was carried away, before the door closed behind me.
Displayed before me was a beautiful arrangement of candles and flowers, and on my bed lay the centerpiece; a wedding gown. I stared at it for a long moment, and when I did not express my interest soon enough, Erik nudged me forward to examine it.
The yards of crisp ivory fabric seemed to engulf the bedspread. I pressed my hand into the deep folds on the fabric close around it. The bodice was interlaced with crystal beads in delicate patterns to resemble flowers. Every edge seemed covered with lace from the thinnest thread I had ever seen. Layers of ivory chiffon were gathered along the front of the skirt in uniformed crescent shapes. Perfectly executed rows of pleated ruffles lined the over skirt and train, stretched back from the front of the garment. There was no denying that it was one of the most beautiful gowns I had ever seen.
Erik's hand came back to my shoulder as he watched me. I turned abruptly and found myself face to face with him. A gasp escaped my lips unwillingly as I gazed on his unmasked face. His face fell with mine as he witnessed my disgust, and his lids closed over his intense gold eyes. I reached out to him, attempting to make amends, but he shunned me. His hand rushed to his face, covering his horrible dead mouth and misshaped cheeks, and he turned, showing me his back.
"Oh, forgive me for being...so ugly." he moaned. I looked up at his shoulder. It wasn't very deep, but I could still see blood pulsing up from underneath his stained shirt. I pressed my hand to it, but Erik pushed it aside.
"You're hurt...please." I said, reaching out to him once more. Erik shielded me by clamping his hand over the wound. He rounded the bed and pulled at the inter-lapping folds of the dress and the bedspread. He pulled out a long veil, made with the same gossamer lace from the dress. He held it aloof and even with his exceptional height; it was long enough to drag on the floor.
"It can wait." Erik replied, even though I could clearly see him wince as he spoke. He could not conceal as much from me without the aid of his mask. "But this cannot." He held out the veil to me. "I have waited long enough for this. Christine, I want to be like other men. I want a wife. You made a promise and I will not give you another chance to change your mind." he demanded.
I took the veil and nodded. I was starting to cry again, and I knew my tears were hurting him more than any physical wound. I wiped my face with my dirty sweat-stained sleeve. His fingers helped brush away my tears.
"Save me, Christine. Love me and I will make you the happiest of women." he pleaded. I nodded. Any act of defiance now would have doomed us all, including Erik. Yet, I could not continue to listen to his sad pleas that tore at my heart much longer. I would do anything to end it. I realized I was standing there in silence and tried to make an attempt at an assuring gesture. I reached to touch the hand he held against my cheek, but he pulled away.
"I shall give you an hour to say your prayers and make yourself ready." he instructed. "By then I hope you will be sufficiently prepared to make your wedding vows." He marched off to the door.
I called to him in a panic. "Erik?"
He seemed to know the question I wanted to ask. "Do not fret, Christine. I will not harm our guests. You have spared their lives and I will comply with your wishes." he answered before disappearing behind the door.
I surveyed my room once more. I admired the preparation that had been made to make it feel like a cozy bridal suite. I was overwhelmed by the beauty of the gown and could only imagine the intense preparation to provide me with such a fine dress. If only it could have happened under different circumstances, actually any other circumstances than this.
Shedding my costume, I made my way over to my dresser to wash my face. I bathed my skin in the still water, which had gone cold. I could see dirt and grime peel away from my skin. I observed it intently and took my time in brushing the washcloth across my arm. Anything to keep my mind from wondering what was happening down below.
An elaborate bustle was placed next to the dress, and I sat at the edge of my bed staring at it for a long while. In the still silence of the room, my heart beat viciously against my breast, like the ticking of a tower clock. Counting down the longest hour of my life.
Reluctantly, I faced the task at hand. I examined the back of the gown with its long row of buttons and frowned, knowing there was no possible way I could fasten each one by myself. I looked at myself in the mirror, seeing a red face rubbed nearly raw by my washcloth staring back at me. I saw a plain girl in boy's trousers and tangled curls and I cursed as the realization dawned on me that again I had my breasts still bound. My face went even redder as I had a vivid flashback to the night I had asked Erik to help me get undressed. When I had tempted him and caused him to cross the line. My invitation to kiss me had sealed his resolve. That brief moment had brought me so much pleasure back then and tortured my every waking moment afterwards.
I choked out a sob as I turned away from the mirror, ashamed. My fingers angrily clawed at my bindings, tearing them free. I cried out as I stretched around my back in a desperate attempt to reach the laces of my corset. By some miracle, I succeeded in reaching them, and still in a panicked rage, pulled them out one by one.
I felt that all my strength had been sapped out of me. Then I continued with the rest of the process at a sluggish pace. I was nearly dead on my feet and plagued by the curiosity of how Erik wanted this wedding to proceed. I managed to change my underpinnings, brush my hair, and put on my gown with little enthusiasm. I managed to stretch my fingers once more to fasten the buttons up my back halfway before I could go no further.
My eyes, heavy with sleep, continued to glance at my bed eagerly. There was no clock in my room and I was too terrified to leave, so I had no idea how much time had passed. My ears detected no sound coming from beyond the door or hinted at any commotion underneath my feet. I took a seat on the edge of the bed and it wasn't too long afterwards that my tired body succumbed to the need for rest and laid down. Between the heat of the candles and layers of fabric encasing me, my body felt much too warm to be comfortable. The sensation of the torture chamber's intense heat once again disturbed my thoughts, but even that was not enough to keep me awake.
A trickle of warm breath descended from above me, rousing me from my slumber. I reached to touch my neck were I had felt its comforting heat upon my skin and soon my hand was joined by another, equally warm and calm.
"Christine..."
As I rolled onto my stomach, I craned my neck over my shoulder to see Erik standing before me. His gloved hand hovered in the air above me. He had changed into formal tails and he appeared quite handsome in a white waistcoat and a crisp velvet-lined jacket. He seemed eager to complete the illusion by wearing the mask he had painted to resemble a flawless face.
"Are you ready?"
I answered by putting my hand in his and letting him lift me off the bed. His fingers reached back around to my neck to touch the exposed flesh of my neck and back. "May I?" I nodded.
Erik shifted around the back of my dress, careful to avoid the flowing train. He was close enough that I could feel his knees pressing against me, even through the layers of fabric and my bustle. Slowly his fingers closed around each button and brought it to its mate, securing me in my dress is if he were bolting the locks on the door. After completing his task, he stepped aside and pulled a single white rose from of the vases in my room. He held it out to me.
"Christine, you look like an angel."
I pulled a part of my veil over my face to conceal the red in my cheeks. I was behaving exactly as a blushing bride should. I accepted the rose. It all seemed like a very surreal dream.
However reality came charging at me when Erik opened the door and led me out of my room. My eyes scanned over the room beneath me at the most bizarre wedding party ever assembled. The Persian stood waiting for us. His face was still flushed from his ordeal and he had managed to replace his jacket and tie, though it was a slovenly effort. Next to him on the settee, I saw the backs of two heads, each with a similar shade of blond hair, pressed next to each other; lifeless. My hand which was tucked in Erik's arm dug into the sleeve of his jacket as my whole body went rigid.
"What have you done to them?" I asked reproachfully. Erik didn't answer me. He kept his eyes forward and proceeded to lead us both down the steps at a sluggish pace. When we reached the bottom of the stairs, I managed to tear myself away and rush over to the settee.
Raoul and Genny were propped against each other. Their eyes were closed and their hands hung slack at their sides. I threw my arms around Raoul, his name dying on my lips as I cried out. The sound of gentle breathing fell upon my ears and I pressed myself closer to him, hearing his heart beating placidly. My body shook with a sigh of relief as I reached over to touch one of Genny's hands, still warm and vibrating with a pulse of its own. They were still alive.
"You drugged them?" It was much more an accusation than a question. Erik had proven himself a master at concoctions several times over and I had no doubt this was his handiwork.
"Unfortunately, it was the only way to keep them quiet. They were most uncooperative." Erik retorted.
"You promised you wouldn't harm them! You promised…" Erik silenced me with a swift movement that caught my hand in his and pulled me against him.
"Your terms were that I spare their lives and I have!" I was close enough to see his teeth gritting through the hole in the mask. He had returned my anger with such force that it had rendered me speechless. I waited for a long moment until his heated gaze left my face and he turned away. "I shall play our wedding march. Say your goodbyes." He released my hand and I watched him sulk over to the organ, his confident stride now gone.
I knew my time was short. I glanced between my friends' unconscious bodies. I thought of what kind of hell I had led them through only to leave them now like this. I pulled Genny's hand in my own, rubbing it gently. Her only wish had been for us to succeed, to be united in triumph on the stage together. She had defied her family and her position in society. She had chosen music over love, and now she was suffering the consequences for it.
I pressed my hand against her cheek, letting her head be cradled within my palm. I thought I even saw the hint of a smile cross her face in her restless slumber. I prayed that this ordeal that I had dragged her through had not cost her the price of her sanity after all. I pressed a kiss on her hand as a stream of thunderous notes flew from the organ.
My body was now shaking once more, shuddering from my angry and helpless tears. I looked at my hands still holding Genny's for a long moment as the excited opening of Erik's march transformed into a somber melody. I wasn't even sure if I had the will-power to even look at Raoul now, but I knew this would be my last chance.
My tears only increased as I knelt next to Raoul's frame. A strange sensation penetrated the back of my throat with an odd tingle as I gazed at his still body. I raised myself up to put my arms around his neck. I let my fingers graze the back of his neck, feeling the stubble under his hair line of hard follicles grazing the surface. I pressed my cheek against his, letting the soft hair from his forehead and lips nuzzle against me. I wanted to stay longer. I wanted to savor the sensation of holding him, savor the feeling I would never have again. I knew to stay would destroy me, as I would always live with the knowledge of what could never be.
"Raoul...Raoul." I cried. "My brave Raoul..." I pressed my lips to his cheek, giving him one last kiss. "Forgive me."
He might has well have been dead. It was like kissing a corpse.
It was as if I were standing on a cliff at that moment. The abyss beckoned to me, and my eyes turned to watch the sweet memories I had shared with Raoul fly away like birds taking wing. I was haunted with the thought of how long it would take for me to forget him.
I pulled away before I was tempted to stay. As I stood, my body failed me and my unsteady feet started to sway and shift. The Persian saw my distress and reached out a hand, steadying me. The last notes of the music faded into hisses and whispers that tormented me.
"I'm so sorry mademoiselle." The Persian offered.
"No, I'm sorry. Sorry that I am the cause of so much unhappiness." I interjected. Erik lifted himself from the organ bench and turned his attention back toward us. I pulled myself up to my full height and felt a firm pressure against my hand.
"No, never apologize for wanting happiness and never deny yourself of it." The Persian whispered in my ear to avoid Erik's detection. He continued to stand there, until he finally strode towards us, again offering me his arm.
"Erik, my friend. I beg you not to do this. Do not force her into this." The Persian pleaded.
The expressionless face stared back at us, veiling Erik's annoyance. "I'm not forcing Christine to do anything." he snapped. "She has chosen me. She loves me." He took a step forward, pushing his body towards the other man in a menacing gesture. "In spite of your disbelief that no one could feel such affection for me."
I stepped between them, weaving my arm beneath Erik's in order to end the confrontation. He pulled me away before I heard the Persian mutter under his breath.
"May Allah have mercy on you..."
The console of the organ served as our makeshift altar. There was no sign of a priest or a Holy Bible. Erik would conduct his wedding according to his own rules. I willed all my remaining strength into my legs to keep me upright. Erik brushed the side of my veil that had fallen against my face, tucking it back over my shoulder.
"I wish I could give you a more proper wedding, one that you deserve." He handed me the rose, and it was then I realized I had dropped it when I ran to Raoul's side. "But I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you." He reached into his waistcoat pocket and retrieved the gold ring he had given me, along with another. He looked down at my hands and I presented them face-up to him, the stem of the rose pressed against my right thumb and forefinger. He placed the ring in my right hand, and closed my fingers around it. Then he drew his attention to my left hand, and placed both his hands underneath it.
"Christine Daae, I take you as my wife. I promise to cherish you. I promise to guide you." Erik intoned and though he was masked, I could still sense that he too was crying. "I will give you my honor to be faithful and...do right. I will worship you and see that you want for nothing. All my possessions and my power I give to you, along with giving you my heart." His fingers moved slowly across the side of my hand, caressing it delicately before turning it. He paused, letting our fingers touch and I felt the excited vibration pulse through our hands.
He sighed with great effort as he placed the ring back on my finger. "With this ring, I pledge my love and my fidelity. Take this ring as token of my devotion, accept it as the embodiment of my love. Be my wife and be...my salvation." When the ring was once more secure, he curled his hand tightly around it, assuring himself that this was no dream.
Words failed me. Even if I tried to think for a year, I could not match the beauty of Erik's vows to me. I loved him, but the love he had for me was something far more powerful. It would take several lifetimes for me to fathom how deep it was. For a moment, the horrors of my failure vanished from my presence as I focused on one saving grace. I could not protect everyone. I could not save every soul.
But I could save one. Maybe that would be enough for God to grant me absolution for all my lies and sins.
"Erik..." I let his name trail off realizing that I was not privileged to even know his last name. If he even had one, or if it had been long forgotten. His silence suggested a confirmation on that thought. "Erik I take you as my husband. I promise to pledge myself to you. I promise...to be faithful."
I would never have imagined I would have to be composing my own vows, much less have to confess my love after Erik's heartbreaking adoration. Even though it was just moments ago, I couldn't even recall what he had said, so I couldn't even repeat it back to him. I opened my mouth to try to speak. I held the ring in my finger, watching it vibrate under my quivering hand. Erik had presented his hand for me to place the ring on his finger. He lowered it to touch my palm.
"Christine...Don't be afraid." he murmured softly. "My hands are shaking too." Our hands again intertwined as if he were trying to calm a child's fears. Erik could have been furious with my hesitation. He knew that I couldn't possibly match my love with his devotion to me. I was fulfilling a bargain.
He was accepting me.
I slipped the ring onto his finger. "With this ring, I pledge my love and my fidelity." I managed to finally speak. "Let us be true to one another...for as long as we both shall live." Once the ring was on his finger, Erik's hands wove themselves tighter with mine and brought them up to the level of his chin, so we saw each other and our hands now graced with wedding bands.
"Then let us bear witness to our love and forever be man and wife." Erik whispered into our upheld hands, and in that moment, they stopped shaking. The reality was dawning on us, and I was certain Erik in that moment thought the unthinkable had come to pass.
There was to be no quoting of scripture, no singing the Kyrie. All of the trapping and ceremony were gone. I hadn't expected them, but it also occurred to me that these simple words, our vows, were all that we needed. Erik had waited a lifetime to say those words.
I leaned forward, knowing what he wanted. The lace from my veil fell back against my cheek with the movement. I waited for Erik to meet my gesture as he brought one hand to his mask and pulled it back to expose his lips. They pressed against my forehead, just touching my skin. The tears that he had managed to keep silent trickled from under the mask and fell upon my face. Instinctively, I stretched up my hand to wipe them away, but he shrunk back from my gesture. It hurt me to see that.
He once more linked my hand in his and led me to a chair. He knelt beside me, fixing his mask.
"You say you are sorry for causing so much unhappiness, but I tell you Christine Daae you have made me the happiest of men!" he exclaimed. I held onto his hand tightly, wanting to cling to this one sweet moment, before time would cause me to acknowledge what I had done.
Once more that surreal feeling settled over me. I had exchanged vows with a man, and in his eyes I was married to him. He moved away from me and I found myself reaching out towards...my husband.
"Wait..."
"I shall return Christine." he informed me, moving back to where the Persian stood guard over my friends. "You have kept your end of the bargain and so I must keep mine." He leaned over and scooped Genny into his arms, while I watched as The Persian shifted Raoul's limp arms over his shoulders to carry him.
I should have been repulsed at what was happening, I should have stopped it. But I was completely overwhelmed at what I had done. I watched them carry my friends out of the room and the great sound of the door closing rang out like the knell of a requiem bell; signaling the end of my life as I knew it.
After a long minute of silence, I reached up and tore the veil off my head. My fingers gripped it in furious agitation as I let my tears finally flow in desperation from my eyes. It had hurt me to see Erik now shrink back from me. Was I destined to be married to a man still afraid to love me? Or to know me in the physical sense as man and wife? Would his repulsion at his face bare him from offering me the gentle touches and kisses I craved? Would I be denied his affection?
I knew in my heart that we would both live with the knowledge that our betrayal of each other had wounded us both. Perhaps Erik's love was enough to heal that affliction, but I did not think mine was strong enough. I should have been joyous, waiting in anticipation for my husband's return; for our wedding night.
Instead I was taking a long look in the proverbial mirror and seeing myself for what I truly was. I was just as damaged as Erik. I was a sinner beyond forgiveness. I had sold my soul to save others, but that part of me was gone forever. I could never claim it again. Would I still be worthy of anyone's love after what I had done?
I sobbed into my veil until my mouth went dry. My thoughts turned to rage. I felt such hatred that Erik had made me choose in this way. I hated that he doubted me so much that he could only force me into this marriage without choice. I loved him, and he had destroyed me. I would try so hard to return his love, but I would forever live with the sense of dread and regret of how this had come to pass.
For fear that I would soon succumb to my hysterics, I stretched my hands to heaven and spoke the words that burned on my lips. "Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord...have mercy on me." I called out in my failing voice. "I know I have sinned and I have given myself to a sinner. Please have mercy on both of us. Pity my poor misguided soul and allow it to save another. I take all his sin...upon me. In your wisdom, please...God spare us both and...forgive us."
I offered up one last prayer for my dear friends. I prayed that my sacrifice had not been in vain. I knew that Erik would forgive me for all my faults, but would Raoul? He had seen me throw myself at Erik, refusing to leave his side. My actions had spoken louder than any hollow promises. I had rejected my savior in favor of my capture.
Before, my exhaustion had beckoned me to submit to sleep, but now my eyes were red with tears, causing enough feeling in them to keep me wide awake in anticipation. My back curled downward, letting my form shrink in upon itself. I feared, that I, like Genny, would end up going mad as my fears and speculations overwhelmed me.
Erik returned once more. I heard him enter through the door as my face rested against the back of the chair. I steadied myself to face him. Surely he would not be surprised to see that I had been sobbing. His perception was clouded by his passion, but he was not blinded by it. He approached me and slowly let his fingers press against my chin as I allowed him to turn my face towards him.
"Christine..." I saw on his face a smile; a genuine smile that had no trace of cynicism or deception. "Oh Christine if only you could weep that way for me." he whispered and his smile faded.
I let my mouth fall open in shock. "How can you say that?" I asked in disbelief. "Do you believe after everything that I don't care for you?"
"But who are you weeping for?" he questioned. His tone was neutral; there was no sense of mocking.
Myself. Selfishly I wanted to tell him that I was weeping for myself.
"Are they tears of pity or love?"
"My God..." I whimpered. "I just didn't want it to be like this..." I confessed. I held my hands out to him palms up, pleading to him. "Forgive me?" I begged, hoping desperately to see his smile return. He placed a comforting kiss into my palm and brought it to touch his mask, and in that brief moment, I would never know Raoul's forgiveness and would have to wait until I passed on to see if God would let someone like me to enter the gates of heaven. For this one moment, though Erik could be the only person in the world willing to offer me my absolution.
I didn't dare to ask what had happened to Raoul. I was certain that my acceptance of him as my husband would truly cement my bond to him and allow trust from him fully. Erik wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me onto my feet. His hands shuffled around the skirt of the gown, smoothing it out. "I hope you were found of your dress. It was the best I could do..." he murmured. "Since I couldn't even provide you with the wedding you deserve..." he trailed off and I noticed that edge of scared uncertainty creeping back into his voice.
I pressed my hand onto the top of his head. "Erik, it's beautiful." I felt a twinge of amusement at Erik's nervous concern about not providing me with a suitable bridal gown when he had given me a more gorgeous dress than I had ever hoped for. It was a welcome distraction from the moment as he rose back up to his feet. His arms once more found my waist and pulled me into an embrace. He stroked my back with one hand, while the other felt its way through my hair. I too allowed myself reach out my hands to explore his body. My fingers pressed against the velvet lapels of his suit and caressed it. I tried to banish all my tension and fears from me and enjoy this blissful moment.
I vowed to be the wife Erik deserved.
"My wife...my living wife." he whispered into my ear, and though his comment piqued my curiosity, I did not ask him what he meant by it. We held each other for a long moment and I knew that moments like this would become a more common occurrence in our lives as we accepted that this was indeed real.
"It's late." Erik informed me, catching my gaze. "I suppose we should..." I nodded in agreement and broke from him, taking a timid step towards the stairs. I moved toward the door leading to his chambers, finally ready to cross over.
He stopped me, and I looked back at him, confused.
"No Christine, for too long I have dwelt in hell." He pressed another kiss into my palm. "You are my salvation, Christine. Lead me up to heaven." His eyes turned upward toward the door of my room and we ascended, arm-in-arm. It had been the same journey I had made nightly for the past few months when I had been left without a home. Now everything was different, even though my feet stepped on the same path.
The candles in the room had burned down, making the light even fainter than before. The smell of smoke from the remaining stubs of wax filled the space and drifted in the air like a bizarre fog. However the scent of the flowers overwhelmed the scent of smoke and dying wicks.
I was suddenly seized with anxiety as I recalled Erik's words.
Lead me up to heaven.
This was our wedding night, and I as his wife would have to submit to him.
"Christine, you're shaking." Erik observed." Are you cold?"
I didn't answer, but kept my eyes focused on the bed. After all I had faced this evening, I didn't think I had the strength to commit myself to this last inevitable task.
I suppose kisses were the least of my worries now.
"Are you frightened?" Erik seemed to guess the cause of my unspoken agitation; He leaned down and pressed his face into my neck. I stiffened, awaiting the seduction that lay before me. Erik's breath danced around the line of my jaw.
"Oh Christine...calm yourself." he assured me in a sweet tone. "All I want now is rest." He untangled my lopsided veil from my hair. "I have tasted all the happiness the world can offer. I am satisfied." He brushed my cheek with a tender stroke of his fingers. "And I will ask no more of you."
I made a great effort not to so how relieved I was. He left my side and shrugged off his tail coat. I could see a bump on his shoulder underneath his vest. No doubt this was the wound inflicted by Raoul's gun. I touched it as he looked over his shoulder at me.
"Are you all right?" he didn't move his mouth to answer. "Let me see it then." I insisted. His hand clamped over mine.
"It's nothing that a good night's rest won't heal." He turned to face me in his shirt sleeves, still looking very dapper, circumstances non withstanding. He gazed at me and I blushed as his eyes lingered on me.
"I should get ready for bed..."
"That dress looks so lovely on you, Christine. Such a pity you only get to wear it for a short time." he mused.
"Would you rather I leave it on?" I offered.
I saw the twist of shadows underneath the hole in his mask and could only hope that meant he was smiling. "I think I would like that very much."
I turned my back towards him, gesturing towards the buttons. "I would still need some help.. there are...things..." I stammered trying to find a polite way to explain to Erik that I would have to get rid of my bustle and corset first. All though I couldn't see him, I could hear the laugh in his voice.
"Of course Christine. I shall turn my back to appease your vanity." he complied, reaching out to release the buttons that he has fastened less than an hour before. Now I was very much aware of the difference in his touch. Before he had sought to hurry the process along. He was eager to close me into this dress and cover my sinful flesh. Now he was exposing me once more and he was taking his time. My neck and shoulders should have relaxed after being freed from the stiff confines of my dress, but they remained stiff. I could sense his gloved handed lingering over me, but he did not reach down to touch me. He did not pursue me any further.
In a mix of relief and disappointment, I shuffled off to one corner of the room and slipped the bodice from my shoulder. Quickly I unfastened my corset in the front, and intertwined my fingers into the strings of my bustle. I let the garments pool beneath my feet and lifted my long skirt as I stepped over them.
Erik stood at the foot of the bed, looking across its surface. He was still and I cursed the fact that he had chosen to wear that unsettling mask. I couldn't see his mouth or his eyes. I wanted to know that he was just as frightened as I was. With a slow turn of his head, Erik regarded me and I moved to stand by his side. His fingers once more reached up into my hair, weaving themselves back into the thick strands.
Then his fingers left my hair and his hands pressed against my back and thigh. I was lifted into the air and then set gracefully down on top of the bed covers. Erik let his body descend with mine and he stretched out next to me, keeping one hand at my side while the other pressed against my face. I returned his gesture by placing my hand at the side of his mask, wishing desperately that I could touch his real face instead of this facade. I thought of all the times Erik had held me before. When he had carried me to bed, comforted me through my nightmares and tended to me after I had stabbed him.
"Sleep well, my dear Christine." Erik whispered as I watched the eyes behind the mask close shut.
"Good night Erik." I replied, and let memories of those times wash over me. I hoped that from now on I could accept his touch without fear or suspicion. It had been so wonderful being held in his arms before.
I closed my eyes.
"My living wife..." Erik called one more time before we both fell asleep, the clear sound of tears in his voice.
AN: Even though I'm an ardent E/C shipper this chapter took me so long to write! Why was it so hard and frustrating? I have no clue should have been a piece of cake.
Also I'm painfully away that Christine would not be able to get in and out of period clothes so easy. I studying costume history and worked in the field so I'm sure for the dress I was envisioning it was have taken several pair of hands to put on. But this is a work of fiction.