A Choice

I know exactly why he continues to come at night. The other members of the Oligarchy, although they accept my baby as his, still wish for further proof that Raoul himself can provide another child. And so Raoul comes, collapsing under the pressure. He has taken to sleeping beside me, falling into a slumber soon after he is finished with what he comes to originally do. I understand why: he does not want to be alone. I suppose, for the most part, I do not mind. He wakes me, sometimes, shooting up from the bed, sweating and gasping in air. I ask him what is wrong.

"A silly nightmare," he says, running a hand through his hair. He then lays back down beside me, sighing and closing his eyes. In the middle of the night, when he is in deep slumber, I climb away from the bed and find my baby. I am drawn to him no matter what anyone says. I have been caught several more times, but it does not stop me. Nothing, save death, can stop me from smelling my little boy and seeing him breathe and, on some precious occasions, watching him open his eyes.

I slip back into my room, and Raoul is there, awake, sitting up and watching me. Without comment, I take off my dressing gown and sit on the bed. After a moment, I pull my hair back and braid it quickly. I can still feel Raoul's eyes watching me.

"You know I think it's wrong for you not to be able to see him," he finally says, a pleading note in his voice. "But I must follow the requests of the doctor."

"You don't have to," I say quietly, finishing my braid and pulling the sheets over me. "You are over him."

We are silent for a moment. I think he is asleep, but he says softly,

"This is the way things have been for decades."

I sigh heavily, keeping my eyes closed. "I know, Raoul. But things are changing, and you know this." He does not respond, and I ask quietly, a thrill of nerves running through me, "What is his name?"

There is a silence, and then, "Elijah."

Elijah. I can now put a name to my little boy. I get out of bed to see him one night, excited to whisper his name into his ear and hear him gurgle adorably in response. Quietly, so as not to wake Raoul, I pull on an awaiting dressing gown and pad over to the door. With a glance back to the bed, I tug at the handle. It does not move. I yank on it a few more times, almost desperately.

"I'm sorry, Christine."

I turn around quickly to see Raoul sitting up and looking at me. "This is the only way I could think of."

Without hesitation, I march over, my dressing gown snapping with the speed, and I slap him, hard, across the cheek.

"You coward!" I hiss. "How could you take me away from my child? For once, why can't you give orders?"

He stands with amazing speed and grabs my arms, anger flashing in his normally-calm dark eyes. "You – selfish brat! Do you think I'm doing this to hurt you? They want to kill you, Christine! And I'm using all my power to save you!"

We stare at each other, our breathing fast and hard, though for different reasons. My breath disappears, and my heart pounds five times as loudly as it normally does.

"Why?" I say quietly.

He laughs, bitterly. "You know why, Christine. And yet you insist on pushing the line. Just – " He sighs heavily and puts his hands on my shoulders, looking straight at me. "Why can you not simply do as you're told?"

I continue to stare for a moment, and I then pull myself away from him and go to the bed. Another sigh escapes him, and he follows suit. I do not think that either of us will be sleeping for a while.

----

Raoul tells me of what he calls "a solution." I am able to see Elijah once a day, for perhaps one hour or so under surveillance. Though I grind my teeth and glower, I accept. Seeing my baby for that much longer is enough incentive for me.

He is really very beautiful. His eyes are big, and I know that they change colors. Alarmed, I tell the nurse about this, but she simply smiles and says that they will for a while, but eventually he will settle on brown. Today they are a piercing blue. He knows when I am talking to him; sometimes he will talk back, gurgling and cooing at me. I am told he is a very quiet, very well-behaved baby, and that makes me proud. As I look at him, my heart suddenly aches. I wish Erik could be there and see his beautiful little son, perfect in every sense.

I cannot see Elijah any more during the night. The door has been kept locked, and Raoul will not listen to my promises to stay inside the room.

"I know you will not keep them," he says, almost smiling a bit. "Or else why would you ask that I unlock the door?"

Sometimes I look at Raoul while he is sleeping and think of all the great things he could have done. He is broken now, defeated and molded into what he needs to be. I have tried speaking to him about education and schools for the laborers, but he merely grunted and said,

"Not everyone needs to be educated; not everyone wants to be educated; not everyone can be educated. No – things are best kept as they are, Christine." He looks at me and says, "I have always liked you in that blue gown. It makes your eyes seem even bluer."

And so I drop the subject. I spend a great deal of time thinking and worrying. What if Erik never comes? Perhaps there really were no feelings between us; my affection is unrequited. Maybe he still sees me as a means to an end, and that, now that I am back, he will simply find a new way to, as he put it, "dig at the root."

Raoul is now frustrated by the fact that I haven't conceived again. He tries, almost desperate in his attempts, and it always leaves me uncomfortable and irritated.

"Raoul," I finally say one night, pushing him away as he nears the bed, "there hasn't been enough time. I am still having pains from the previous delivery. Give me time and stop worrying."

He sighs heavily, rubbing his forehead and nodding. "You're right – I'm simply…simply…Well, it's not simple any more, is it?" He smiles facetiously.

I know he is right: nothing is really simple any more. I fall asleep, but, when I wake, things turn much more complicated.

The bed is warm and comfortable, and I have a hard time pulling myself awake. There is movement beside me, and so I know it must be morning. Wearily, I open my eyes. It is not light yet, but Raoul is sitting up, looking at the door, and as my eyes adjust, I can see he is pointing a pistol…

I sit up quickly, my eyes traveling to the door. Something of a whimper escapes as I see Erik standing by the closed door, his hands up and fingers spread.

"Quiet, Christine," Raoul snaps. His breathing is fast, and his eyes are trained on Erik. Erik does not look at me; his eyes are locked on Raoul's, and I do not see any fear in them. In fact, I see nothing at all – just blank and empty. Erik's mask shines dully in the moonlight.

"Are you here to kill me?" Raoul asks.

"That was my original plan," Erik responds, his voice dead, but it is still wonderful to hear it. I want him to speak again. Raoul must sense my restlessness, for he commands coldly, "Be still."

He turns his attention back to Erik. "Your 'original' plan? Why has it changed?"

"You were not in your room; I thought you might have been at the Capitol. I had no idea that you would be in the same bed as your wife."

Raoul takes this last remark as an insult and I can sense him flush slightly. He postulates, "Why did you come here, then? Did you come here to rape my wife once again? I know you did when she was with you, no matter what you told her to say."

"I never told her to say anything," Erik says calmly.

"Well, it doesn't matter anymore." Raoul seems to become more frenzied. "You are under my mercy now. We have searched for a very long time for you, and now here you are, right before me."

"Yes," Erik agrees. "You will shoot me and then all of your problems will disappear." For the first time, I hear emotion in Erik's voice: he is mocking Raoul. The latter, however, does not want to rise to the bait.

"Why are you here?" he asks harshly. His pistol is still straight and steady, pointing right at Erik. "Why have you come?"

"Well, we never wished for you to find out, but the other members of the Oligarchy have actually already been killed tonight. I took the laborious task of coming to kill you myself, since you have killed so many people that actually meant something."

"Erik, he never – " I begin, but Raoul stops me.

"Shut up, Christine!" he says loudly. "Shut up!"

I look at Erik, but he is not looking at me. His gaze is fixed on Raoul.

"I will give you a choice," Erik says. "Give me Christine, and we will leave and you will never hear from us again. You may grow old in peace or die however you wish."

Raoul laughs bitterly, without humor. "You are no position to be making offers."

"Do you really think that killing me will stop this? More will come – people are noticing, things are changing. I can stop this for your lifetime. You only need give me Christine."

"Why?" asks Raoul suspiciously, throwing a glance at me. "What importance is she to you? Is it the child? Even if he is yours, he is mine."

"I know," says Erik, perhaps too hastily. "I only want Christine."

I choke slightly; as much as I wished that Raoul would accept this offer, I am not sure anymore. I need my baby.

"Why?" Raoul says again.

"Because…" Erik pauses slightly, and for the first time he looks at me. "Because I love her."

My entire being is lightweight; I stare at him, disbelieving. Erik loves me, and I love Erik. So shouldn't everything fall into place?

"And?" snaps Raoul angrily. "So do I!"

There is a moment of silence, and Raoul finally leans over to me. "Do you see the gun he has in his belt? Go get it for me." When I look at him, he says, "Don't worry, Christine. He won't shoot you."

Slowly, I slide out of the bed, casting a hesitant look at Raoul before walking to Erik. He looks at me while I push back his heavy coat to reveal to handle of a pistol. His hands are still in the air.

"Did you mean that?" I breathe, pulling out the gun. It is much heavier than I expect.

Another moment of silence. "Yes."

I manage to smile. "I love you, too."

"Give me the gun, Christine." Raoul has stepped off the bed, too, standing erect and looking taller than I remember. He takes the pistol from me and looks back at Erik. "Now, stand over there and die proudly."

Erik does so obediently, and I cry out softly as I watch him walk to the designated spot. Without much thought, only knowing that I must do it, I walk to him and stand in front, facing Raoul.

"Move," he demands. "Get out of the way, Christine!"

Erik's fingers come to touch my arm and push me aside, and a thrill runs through my entire frame as he touches me.

"Get your hands off of her!" Raoul suddenly shrieks, shaking the pistol at him. "Don't you dare touch her!" He comes over to pull me aside, but I push him away defiantly.

"If you kill him, I will kill myself," I say, my cheeks burning and my heart racing. Erik shifts behind me; I feel his chest inches from my back, and I long to sink into him. Raoul stares, looking bewildered and lost.

"No, Christine, that is not what I want," Erik says, and he pushes me once again. "Go away – do as I say, Christine."

"I have made my choice!" I scream at both of them, hugging myself. "I will make my own choices now, and I will stand by them! You cannot tell me what to do! I will stand here and watch you die, and then I will take that gun and shoot myself!"

"That is – that is what you want?" Raoul finally speaks, his voice timid and pleading. I nod to him, watching his dark eyes deaden. There is a moment of silence, and he finally chokes out, "Very well." He cocks the pistol. I feel like nothing more than a hollow shell, and I close my eyes, waiting for the crack of the gun and the sound of a body falling beside me. I feel a tear fall onto my neck. I know I am afraid to die, but I will not let that stop me. Fear has ruled my life for too long, and I will not succumb to it anymore. I will conquer my enemies and be triumphant at last. The control I never had will be mine. I shall control my own fate, my own destiny, and I shall make my own choice – even if it is the last one I make.

There is a moment of dragging silence, and then –

CRACK!

The sound of the gun, and a body on the floor, and the sound of my slight sob. Before I find the strength to open my eyes, a hand touches my shoulder. The hand is cold and bony, and a soft voice says,

"Christine, you must open your eyes."

The sight that comes to me is one I had never before expected. I kneel by Raoul, and he looks at me, his wasted handsome face struggling with the life that is left in him. His breath comes in short, panicked bursts, and his fingers are closed over a wound on his chest. Dark red blood trickles between the fingers. Holding back a tearless cry, I put my hand on his forehead.

"Raoul," I say, quietly and sadly.

I smile weakly at him. One blood-stained hand comes up to his throat, and he claws a chain from around his neck. On it is a small, silver key. I take it, and he tries to speak. "Chri – Christi – in the – the drawer…" He gasps, shuddering and desperate, and I rise quickly, unlock it, and look in the small drawer that resides in the bedside table. I shuffle through the meaningless contents until I find a folded piece of paper, worn and old-looking.

When I return to Raoul's side, I find him smiling at me, his lips curled up ever so slightly. He tries to say something else, but a struggle for breath cuts him off, and he looks at the paper in my hands. With a soft sigh, he is still, and his hands fall limply to his sides, the blood bright red on his chest. Softly, I press my lips to his forehead, trembling, and shut his eyes. A moment passes, and I stand finally. Erik's chest is still as solid as I remember, and I find refuge in it for a few dear minutes.