Erik's hands shook as he prepared a tray of food for Christine, who had woken up just recently. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his anger at the little devil burrowed deep within her. It would do no good to be angry around Christine - he really didn't want to upset her. She would be okay. She had to be okay. He lifted the tray and returned to his wife.
Christine couldn't help but be a bit emotional at the news. It wasn't necessarily sad news, but she was still a bit in shock. Of course, why should she be? She and Erik were married. A child was normal and not uncommon. Of course, Christine's mother died at childbirth. Lifting her gaze to look at Erik, she shook her head. "I am not hungry," she said, then looked away from him. Goodness knew what Erik was probably thinking of her. Or just thinking, period. She was never able to read his thoughts. Not once.
Erik scowled, but quickly became calm again. He sat down on the bed and put they tray in front of her. "Christine, you have to eat. You're just going to get worse if you don't. I know you may not feel hungry, but your body needs it." He could only pray she wouldn't put up such a fight.
Shaking her head at him, she pushed the tray away. "Erik, no. I can't. I-I can't eat right now." She crossed her arms over her chest, almost like she was pouting. Actually, she was feeling much better, but now she was terrified that if she got sick again, she'd vomit the child out or something. She understood that not eating would make her even more sick, but eating did the same exact thing. Christine lifted a hand to Erik's arm. "Erik...what are you thinking?"
For a moment, he almost spilled his furious thoughts to her, but he reined control over his temper. "I'm only worried about you, Christine. Now, you have to eat something, go on."
He closed his eyes for a moment. He really didn't want to say anything morbid to her, and he definitely didn't want to frighten her but she was dying. Childbirth killed all too often. "It's not your fault, Christine, you don't need to be sorry. But you do need to eat."
She placed a hand on his cheek, the one which his mask covered, and continued studying him. "You know as well as I do that I will not eat right now. Also...you are not being honest with me, Erik. You are not even saying much, merely repeating yourself," Christine said, not sure what to even feel anymore. Not towards him, but towards everything now.
Erik sighed. "What I'm thinking doesn't matter. Now, come on." He lifted a piece of bread and held it up to her. "At the very least, eat this."
She couldn't believe him. He was lying to her. Right in front of her face too. When had this come up between them? Perhaps that was a bit hypocritical, but he hadn't been asking her to tell him of her health. Here, she was asking him to be truthful with his thoughts. Christine pushed her lower jaw forward in a small pout of some sort. If he wanted stubborn, then she could do stubborn. It came naturally to her anyway.
Erik dropped the bread back on the tray in frustration. "Christine, you have to eat. You've lost too much weight, you can't afford to keep this up." He ignored the fact that he was starting to raise his voice, though he desperately wanted to keep his temper.
"I've told you before, more than once, if I remember correctly, that I can not, nor will I eat. You cannot make me," Christine replied stubbornly, crossing her arms yet again over her chest, keeping her jaw straight now, but her eyes fierce. Well, it was a good thing she wasn't afraid of him, because God knows if she was, she certainly wouldn't be protesting him so determinedly.
"Christine," Erik snapped furiously. "If you're this weak when you give birth, you will die." He thrust the bread back at her. He was already regretting saying such a thing - he didn't want to scare her - but it was too late to take the words back. It was the truth anyway.
Her eyes narrowing only slightly, Christine started pulling back the blankets she was under, refusing to let emotions get the best of her. "Is that it, then? The fact that I will give birth? Or is it that this child, that apparently is taking over your anger, would kill me? I understand that this was unplanned, but hating it will do absolutely no good. Not for you, not for me." She shoved the bread back. He was getting ridiculous. "If you'd learn to have more compassion, then maybe you wouldn't be forcing me to eat, when clearly, I am incapable of holding anything in." She would show him that he wasn't the only one who could get angry.
"Are you trying to say I don't care about you enough, Christine?" He cursed under his breath. "Stop being petulant - it's no good for you."
"Really? I'm the one being petulant? You're not the one carrying the baby, Erik," Christine answered, not believing her ears. "And no, I did not say that. Whatever way you want to take my words, however, be my guest."
"Christine," he said firmly, stopping himself from shouting. He knew her heart. "You are the one carrying the child - and that means you're not just starving yourself."
She raised her eyebrows at him. "You think I am starving myself? Yes, because I purposely love not eating for long periods of time, then making sure our house is as neat it can be, hoping I don't suddenly collapse because I don't want you worrying about me. All of that is clearly my love for starvation," Christine said sarcastically, rolling her eyes at him.
"I don't care what you call it, Christine," Erik responded shortly. "You haven't been eating enough. Why do you think you're not showing?"
She gave him a look that said, 'Really?' "Does this really have anything to do with my eating? I know it doesn't. So, why don't you just tell me what it is you want to say, and we can move on with our lives. Go ahead, Erik. Tell me all that you wish to tell me." At this point, she didn't care if he'd spit in her face. Well, she might burst into tears, but not because she cared.
Erik shook his head slightly. "I don't have anything to say to you - I just need you to be healthy." Why did she have to make things so difficult?
She stared at him a while longer in disbelief, and then she pushed everything that was in front of her aside, tray and Erik and all, and got up out of bed. Nobody was going to keep her in bed, not even for a day. "Fine. Then don't say anything at all," Christine said angrily, storming off out of the room.
Erik made an odd snarling noise and made to follow her, but he stopped. What was he supposed to do? No matter what he said, she got upset. Half of him wanted to grab her and force her to do as told. But the other half just wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her, because he didn't want to lose her again. Only, he wouldn't be able to handle the rejection if she pushed him away. He almost wanted to give up. After a moment, he followed her and stood in the threshold of the room she was in. "Christine," he murmured softly.
It wasn't that she hadn't heard him approach. She was used to Erik's lightness of sound as he moved around. She just didn't bother going anywhere else. Her intention was not to escape him, but rather to see what he would do. She was sitting at a table, meant to be a kitchen table, but it wasn't much of a kitchen. Oh, well. After a few silent second, Christine glanced up at him, wishing she could force tears to her eyes, but that would be too cruel. "Tell me, Erik, please. Do you even want to have this child? And do not lie to me, I beg of you," she pleaded, but made no real effort. She felt...dull. That was the word. Dull.
Erik sighed. He knew he had upset her; he could hear it in her voice. Oh, if only he could take all of her pain away. "I can't even think about actually having the child. I can't get past the fact that it's hurting you now. I can't...I don't want to lose you again."
Standing up from her seat, she approached him gently, then stood merely a few inches from him and looked into his eyes. "Erik, nothing in this world will be able to separate you and me. Not even death. Maybe it's hurting me now, but in a few weeks I should become stronger again. Didn't you hear Madame Giry?" Christine brought a hand up to his cheek and caressed it softly. "You should have told me that from the beginning instead of forcing me to eat. I'll eat when I can, please, try to understand that. I'm having this child, Erik." Maybe that should have been a decision they made together, but it was her body, so she found it fair to make it alone.
"I wouldn't have tried to stop you," he murmured. "Are you...are you happy, Christine? Knowing you're going to have a baby?" That was what was most important - her happiness. And if it'd hurt her for him to be furious with the baby, he would calm his rage and learn to love it. Or at least tolerate it.
She took her hand back and her face fell. "Honestly...I cannot say I am not happy. It's a baby, Erik. It's an innocent little being. I am still in a bit of shock, but we should have foreseen this. IT cannot have truly come as a big surprise to us," Christine replied, feeling disappointed. She knew he wasn't all that enthusiastic about a child, and that brought on her feeling of desperation.
"I know, we should have expected it," he muttered. "Just promise me you'll try and take care of yourself. I don't want you running around so much - humor me." He smirked slightly, if only to calm her, to make her happy.
She tried smiling at him, but couldn't. She had way too many emotions running through her and just didn't know which ones to express at the moment. "I can promise to take care of myself, but I can't be forced to do anything. I'll get better. I'll be okay in a little while. But then...how is anything going to get done around here?" asked Christine, eying the dirty dishes in the basin.
"I'll take care of it," he told her. "Believe it or not, the Opera Ghost does know how to wash dishes." He could see it in her eyes - something was still wrong. But he couldn't push her. She wouldn't tell him anyway.
A tiny smirk crossed her face as she lifted her eyes to look at him. "Not the Opera Ghost anymore. Or The Phantom of the Opera. Or even the Angel of Music. You are just...my Erik," she told him, smiling at first, but then she put her hand to her stomach, feeling a little oozy all of a sudden.
Erik frowned. "Are you all right, darling?" He felt a slight surge of anger rear up at the unborn child that was making her sick, but he pushed it down. No more of that. She didn't like it.
Silence overcame her for a moment as that somewhat sharp pain in her abdomen slowly disappeared. "Yes, I'm all right. It's nothing to worry about, my dear." She needed to learn to prevent letting him see her ever in any pain of some sort. She didn't need him to start hating the child, after all. They were both going to be its parents, and they were both going to love it. As if to seal that thought, Christine leaned forward on her tiptoes and kissed him. "I love you."
He held her for just a moment before pulling away. "I love you too, Christine." He wanted to insist that she go at least sit down, but he figured she'd do just the opposite if he told her to. Instead he simply pushed up his sleeves and turned to tackle the dishes.
"Oh, you don't have to do those now. Or at all. I'm feeling much better than I did earlier," Christine insisted, appearing by his side and leaning forward a bit to look into his face.
He raised his eyebrows. "Don't worry about it, all right?"
She took a step away from him, looking at him almost accusingly. "Like how I tell you that you shouldn't worry about it?" Despite the kiss, the 'I love you's, he wasn't treating her the same way. "Why are you so cold about this?"
He sighed. He couldn't get anything right, could he? "I'm sorry, Christine," he said rather shortly, though he meant it. He was sorry that he couldn't be perfect for her and he was sorry for his temper.
"I don't want your apologies, Erik. I want you to communicate with me. That's what a marriage is. Communication. Because if that fails, everything fails. And I, for one, don't want this to fail," Christine stated.
Erik scowled. "What I am thinking is unimportant - it doesn't matter, it won't matter. You don't want to hear it and you don't need to."
Okay, if she wasn't insistent enough before, then she definitely was now. He couldn't just say that and not tell her! "Well, now that you've got me curious, you cannot just leave it at that. What you are thinking is not unimportant."
Erik crossed his arms. "It is completely unimportant, I assure you. Nothing I have to say will have any effect - other than making you mad, and nothing good will come of that."
She eyed him carefully. "You were not like a few hours ago. It's about the baby, isn't it," Christine said knowingly. It had to be. What else would make him act like this?
He frowned. "I told you it doesn't matter, Christine. I'm just shocked - as are you. It'll be fine."
Normally, Christine didn't get this attached to anything in a matter of hours. It took a lot for her to love something. But with this...this seemed so much different. Christine almost...well, she loved this baby. She didn't know it yet, and she was still iffy about being a mother, but she loved this new life growing inside of her. And she would do anything to keep it safe. "It better be. Because I love it, Erik." There was no point in trying to get him to open up to her because he rarely did that, and he tended to be just as stubborn as she was, sometimes.
"Yes, I figured you would," he said stiffly. It was occurring to him that he hated children for a reason - they hated him. "Now, do you want me to do the dishes or not? I'd rather not have anything else for us to argue about."
She didn't tear her eyes from him for a moment, trying to figure out the meaning behind those words. What was it? Envy, hatred, loathing? And for whom now? She wanted to ask what he meant by that, but he was right. They didn't need anything else to argue about. "I never wanted you to do them in the first place, since I've told you I was capable of doing them myself, but if you insist, then go ahead and do them." Christine needed a distraction. "I'll be up in sun room." Singing. But she didn't add that. Singing was the only thing that could truly relax her. And singing someplace where it wasn't always night and darkness.
He didn't answer her, allowing her to leave in silence before he turned back to the dishes and got to work. He needed to figure out a way to stop their fighting - but she was making it so difficult! He was afraid of even holding her at the moment, worried she would push him away. And what would he do then?
There was this one song that Christine always adored and had for the longest time. She missed her father. She dearly wished he was there with her because she needed guidance at this moment. She didn't know what to do anymore. Facing the sunset in the window, Christine leaned forward and softly sang, "Wishing you were somehow here again..." She wanted to go out, participate in the county operas put on every year, dance around, pick flowers in the meadows...But she couldn't. Not anymore she couldn't.
Erik moved through the simple work without thinking about it. He would let Christine alone for now - she would come back to him when she was ready. He realized that her stubbornness had increased more recently - perhaps the baby? The demon was even turning his own wife against him. But then, maybe it didn't have to push so hard. Maybe she was already mad at him. There was so much he couldn't give her.