The decanter now nearly half empty sat on the table beside the fire. The glass was in Raoul's hand as he stood next to the window, his cheek pressed against the frosty pane. He stared out into the distant night sky, not really thinking, just merely existing in the alcohol induced fog that enveloped him. He felt numb, hollow, broken.
He had lost her, and it was his own doing. She had either gone with the Phantom to spare Raoul's life, or she had CHOSEN that monster over him….both thoughts equally too agonizing to accept. It mattered little which he selected as the plausible option, he could see no other fault but his own. He shouldn't have forced her hand, made her do that which she was so afraid of. Raoul didn't know if he could live with himself. He had either led her to or pushed her into the arms of that caped monster.
"Christine…will you ever….will I ever have the chance to…" Raoul gritted his teeth, fighting back the searing tears of self-loathing, of the inner-directed rage that teemed from every pore of his being. In his fury, he turned hurling the glass toward the rugged brick of the fireplace. It came smashing down against the unforgiving stone, bursting into a thousand shards of glass, raining down on everything within reach of it.
He heard a gentle knock on the door. "Sir, is everything alright…Sir?" his maid called to him cautiously. "Leave me…leave me alone." Raoul hissed, walking toward the door to be certain that the lock was securely fastened. He heard the quiet footsteps walking away from the room. Slumping back into his chair, he gazed into the fire. Oh how he wished he did not have to face the prospect of life without her…if only he could see her once more….to find her…to make certain she was o.k….to save her if…if… He closed his eyes. Slowly the vile liquid had taken control. He could do no more than relinquish to the substance that warmed him, that weakened his senses, that dulled his pain. The second night without her being far too much to be awake for.
XXXXXXXX
Christine and Erik, stared at the crackling fire. Its glow was strong and warming now. The heavy drapes still hung firmly over the windows of the room, letting little if any of the light escape. He glanced over at Christine, who was seemingly mesmerized by the dancing flicker of the flames.
"It reminds me of the flame in the Opera." She said not looking away from it. Erik, knowing what she meant, didn't interrupt. "It seems an eternity ago to me now…so much has changed in two days time." Christine didn't even blink. Erik thought he saw the first glimpse of sorrow cross her face. She turned to face him. "Erik, I am tired, would it be o.k. if we retired for the evening?" Erik, feeling the same, nodded in agreement.
Christine retrieved several garments from her bag, and walked behind the dressing screen. Erik sat in the chair by the fire. He glanced over at the fabric of the screen, being able to see Christine's shadow cast from behind it by the light reflected off the well placed mirror. She was so slender, her silhouette defined by the faint light. He saw her pulling her hair to one side, attempting to reach the laces on her dress. A routine would no doubt develop, but now, he smiled as he rose from his chair, knowing she would be calling for him. He walked ever so quietly to the screen.
"Christine?" he paused, then peeked around the side of the screen. She smiled discretely over her shoulder and nodded. Erik moved around to the back, reaching out his hands to the laces on her dress, and those of her corset. He was becoming quite adept at this, and that amazed even him. Having done what she needed, he leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on her left shoulder. She turned smiling at him. He moved back to his chair, removing his boots, undoing his cravat.
Christine reappeared from behind the dressing screen, a long flowing winter-white lace nightgown graced her frame. She had pulled her hair back with an ivory ribbon. Her collarbones pronounced on her lithe frame, she looked to him like a princess in high fashion. He had chosen the garments for her, but even he was amazed by how they complimented her beauty.
She stretched her arms high above her head, and then brought her hand over to cover her mouth as a yawn escaped. Erik chuckled to himself, smiling at her. Sometimes she still reminded him of her youth, her playful side appearing sweetly from time to time.
Walking over she knelt down before him. Resting her head on his knee, looking once again into the fire. Her brown curls tied behind her filled Erik's entire lap. He reached out and began stroking her neck, running his fingers over her exposed shoulder. She smiled, closing her eyes, reveling at the sensation of his touch. So much was expressed in their touch…so much more than words could ever manage.
Christine had nearly dozed off by the warmth of the fire. Erik's hands had slowed and now rested on her shoulder. She turned her head to look up at him. He was sound asleep. She smiled to herself at how relaxed he seemed when they were together now. Two days had begun to change him…he no longer had the look of an injured animal, but now appeared to her as a sleeping lion. Strong, dominate, but gentle with his mate, protective but sensitive.
She quietly rose from her knees, resting her head first on his chest, and then turning to face him fully, she began kissing his chest, moving slowly up to his neck, and then around the length of his strong jaw, until she embraced his lips tenderly. Erik never fluttered an eyelash, never changed his breathing, but his arms reached up to Christine's waist, his hands rising to her back, he pulled her to him, returning her kiss with the gentle acceptance of a husband, with the sweet surrender that belonged to only her. She was all he had ever wanted…all he would ever want, and he could not imagine wanting to be anywhere else in all of the world right now, than in the arms of the woman he loved.
Erik slipped one arm under Christine's knees, rising, bringing her up into his arms. She looked deeply into his eyes talking without saying a word. He leaned over kissing her forehead, moving quietly toward the bed. The sheets having been turned down, providing entry for Christine as Erik gently laid her down. The comfort of the bed beneath, a welcome change from that of previous evenings. He climbed in resting gently above her, kissing her passionately, wanting her to know that she was all he desired, sleep could wait.
Christine moved her hands from around his neck, gently slipping his shirt from his shoulders, releasing first one arm and then the other. Carefully rolling Erik to his back, tracing kisses down his cheek. She paused, in a hushed whisper saying "Erik, my husband, I love you…" Erik responded, returning her to her back, kissing her gently. "And my dear Christine…my precious wife…I love you…" The flicker of the flames now dancing in the room, the outside world slipped away into the beauty of the night.