Chapter Two

Calm Part Two

Erik watched his friend sulk away with a worried expression. He looked down at his fiancée, whom he still held loosely in his arms.

"He's been like that almost the entire voyage. I thought it was just homesickness, but…" He sighed heavily. "I wish I could help him."

Christine smiled up at him and hugged him tightly, resting her chin on his chest.

"You are a good friend, Erik. Raoul does not deserve you."

He shook his head, taking her chin in his hand.

"Please, do not say that, Christine." His face lit up and he smiled widely. "Besides, it does not do to dwell on such depressing things as my choice in company, my dear. It will never improve your countenance, lovely though it is."

She tapped him playfully on the arm, and laughed. "You always know just how to improve my mood, Erik. It's uncanny."

"It is, isn't it?" His smile became softer and his green eyes danced in the low light of the evening sun bouncing off the sea. "I have missed you so much, Christine." He hugged her tightly and rested his face in the crook of her neck, breathing deeply the scent of the woman he would love for the rest of his life. He never felt more at home than when she was near him, and he hoped the feeling wouldn't fade with time or distance.

She giggled quietly. "How sentimental you sound, Erik."

"I know. Very unlike me," he teased, "to be take the opportunity for romanticism. Enjoy it while you can, my dear."

Their banter was interrupted when a large drop of clear liquid decided to take a rest on Erik's cheek and trail down his jaw. Then another landed on Christine, and another still fell on his aquiline nose. Soon, rain was pouring down from the heavens upon them, and Erik took her hand as they ran to the secret cave where they had shared their first kiss.

As soon as they had settled within the cave, Erik against the most comfortable corner of the cavern wall, and Christine resting her back against his chest, they resumed their conversation.

"I hate summer storms. They come so suddenly and leave so slowly." Christine grumbled good-naturedly.

"I love the rain," Erik whispered.

He moved out from behind her and started a little fire a few feet away with some dried seaweed and timber that they had left there at some other time. He returned to his position, his arms wrapped around Christine, as close as they could get, drowning in their wet clothing. The damp air hung around them like a thin veil, pervading their senses with the smell of wet rock and rain on the sand.

Christine's eyelids were growing heavy, but she stubbornly clung to consciousness.

"Did you really mean it when you said we could be officially engaged?" She asked, yawning.

Erik chuckled, a deep, throaty sort of thing that sent shivers down her spine. "Of course I did, dearest. All I need is a few months to afford a ring, and-"

"I don't need a ring!" At Erik's look of disbelief, she continued forcefully. "No, I really don't. It's just a material thing. I can be perfectly happy without it."

"But you deserve one, Christine."

She propped herself up on one arm and sighed, looking him in the eyes. Then she reached down and fiddled with the hem of her cream colored skirt. Her hand came up holding a piece of thread, and she twisted and twirled it until it was wrapped tightly on the ring finger of her left hand.

"This will be my ring." She smiled softly. "I don't need anything else. I only need you."

Erik returned her smile, and leaned towards her.

"Then you shall have me."

The next evening, in the humble, cozy dining room of Erik's home, Christine, Erik, and his father Jean were just sitting down to supper when Erik said something of import that went unnoticed for a very brief, but heartbreaking, time thereafter.

"Raoul and I went ashore at Elba."

His father looked up from his plate, surprised. "Did you, now? What was it that warranted this possible loss of life and limb?"

"The late captain Warrens had the brain fever set upon him. We were trying to get him ashore for treatment, but sadly our efforts were for naught; he died a few short hours later."

Christine heard the regret staining his voice, and reached out with a soothing hand to cover his own. The wooden table felt rough beneath their fingers, as if it needed a good polishing, and the plates were chipped and cracked in places, but neither one of them seemed to notice or care.

A/N: Oh my goodness, thank you SO MUCH for all of the reviews! This is part two of the Calm chapter. I really hope you enjoy it, and please keep the feedback coming! 'Tis the food of inspiration!