Erik waited in the silent room a very long time. Every tick of the clock was an agonizing tiny stab at his heart with the dagger-like hands. The rhythm in his chest pounded out a mantra. She's not coming back. She's not coming back.
I should never have let her go, he thought.
He was afraid to retreat to his own room, in case she returned and he missed her. He did not trust himself to follow her. As difficult as it was to be absent for her conversation with Raoul, he knew every word he overheard would follow him to an early grave should he listen and hear what he did not wish to.
She's not coming back. She's not coming back. You stupid idiot, why did you let her leave the room? He berated himself. And yet, he reminded himself, she had clung to him before she went, promising to return.
Of course she'll return. All her things are still here, his brain screamed at him.
She was gone for what seemed like a century before he heard her footsteps coming up the stairs. They were coming up fast.
Christine burst through the door, her face was red and tear stained and her chest shook with the sobs that wrenched out her mouth.
"Christine, My God what has he done?" Erik practically shouted as he quickly gathered a disheveled Christine into his arms. "I'll kill him if he's laid a hand on you!" he promised over the din of her sobs.
"He didn't do anything," Christine cried. "He didn't do anything. I'm the one who's done everything." Her voice was muffled in his shirt and her hair.
"I don't understand," Erik said, truly confused, and yet overwhelmingly relieved she had returned as she promised.
"How could I be so cruel?" Christine said tearfully. She felt like collapsing on the floor as the guilt overwhelmed her. She burned shamefully as she clung to Erik, knowing full well what secrets she now hid from him. What would hurt more, she wondered; telling Erik everything that transpired on the dock and seeing the betrayal on his face, or living with the truth burning her soul to hell?
"Christine, please calm down," Erik pleaded, guiding her to sit on the edge of the bed. "Tell me what happened."
Christine caught her breath and rubbed the tears from her face with the back of her hand. "I'm so sorry, Erik," she stammered out.
Erik's felt his soul wrenched from his chest with the dread of those words and whatever connotations came with them. "Sorry for what?" he asked fearfully. "Please tell me what has upset you so badly?"
Christine looked at him through her tears, seeing Erik's blurry masked face. She blinked her eyes clear again, feeling the salty tears drip off her cheeks as she did. The anguish in his eyes was more than she could stand. She knew he had not expected her to return. "I can't tell you." She pleaded with him wordlessly with her face to just understand that some things are better left unsaid.
Erik stroked her hair, not knowing how to react. Did he stay and comfort her or did he go out and find that stupid boy and rip his heart from his chest. "What can't you tell me? I promise you can tell me anything," he said, not believing for an instance the validity of his own words.
"Please," Christine begged again. "Just hold me."
And so he did, although his stomach felt ill, his mouth was dry and he felt lightheaded. "You're leaving with him aren't you?"
The unexpectedness of his response shook her. It took her a moment to find her voice and he took her hesitation as an answer. He abruptly stood up, practically knocking her off the bed in his exit.
"No, I'm not going anywhere," Christine protested.
"Then why beg my forgiveness for something you cannot speak of?" he rounded on her. "Did you think to spare me until you had packed your belongings and were ready to walk out the door?"
"Erik," Christine stammered. "Please, come back," she motioned for him to come to her on the bed.
He hesitated, his hand on the door handle. "Why should I come back if you are leaving?"
"Did you not hear what I just said?" Christine exclaimed frantically. "I'm not leaving!"
Erik wanted to believe her. He desperately wanted to hope against hope that he still had the upper hand for Christine's affections.
"Please, Erik. I need you." Her statement was simple. She was not begging; it was a truthful statement. "Don't make me lose you today too."
Her words shocked him. "What do you mean by that?" he asked as he turned around. He stared at her wild eyes and mussed hair, seeing the torment there of something indefinable. She looked so small sitting on the bed alone.
Christine did not have the voice to speak the consequences of her decision. She shook her head, meaning for him to see that it pained her to speak of it. She patted the bed next to her and he joined her once again, feeling the springs creak under his weight.
"Please hold me," she requested again. "I'm so very tired and I can't think anymore." The pressure of the pain in her chest was more than she could bear.
His arm crept tentatively around her shoulders as she began to cry once more. She melted into his embrace and he reclined onto the pillows with her head still resting against his chest. A thousand questions swirled angrily in his head but he knew he would have to wait for any answers. Christine was exhausted and there was going to be little point in badgering her tonight. He stroked her hair away from her moistened face then used the handkerchief from his pocket to dry her cheeks and eyelashes. She held tightly to his shirt, her body shivering with the overwhelming emotions she was feeling. Erik held her until her cries were quieted with a deep slumber. He prayed she was telling the truth that she was not leaving, but his heart felt heavy with doubt and he curled himself protectively around her as if it may be for the last time.
Christine awoke some time later, feeling the dry stickiness in her mouth from having breathed through it. Her nose was stopped up and her eyes felt puffy and gritty from crying. Darkness had fallen and she could just make out Erik's white shirt in the pale light. His breathing was soft and even and his warm arms were laxly wrapped around her. She did not want to wake him, but needed to wash the salt from her face and cleanse her mouth from the taste of her hastily spoken words. She carefully worked her way out of Erik's embrace, reluctant to leave it. He looked so peaceful in the dim moonlight.
She tip toed across the floor, thinking the floorboards creaked awfully loud. Christine quietly splashed water onto her face, taking care to not make much noise. She drank some water from a glass on the table, swishing it around in her mouth to rid herself of the taste of open mouthed sleep. She had dreamt in her brief sleep, of Raoul coming to take her away. Erik had cried, reaching out for her, but she had been unable to reach him. Most of the rest of the details of her nightmare faded as soon as her feet touched the floor. All she knew was she felt horrible for it all.
Erik stirred behind her.
"Christine?" he whispered.
"It's alright, Erik. Go back to sleep," she said, knowing full well he would not.
Erik reached over and lit the wick in the bedside lamp with the pop of a match. She smelled sulfur momentarily then the odor dissipated along with the darkness of the room. She hissed and squinted as the bright light blinded her. Erik reached over and turned the light down to a soft glow and Christine joined him in bed once more.
"What were you doing up?" Erik asked. "Is everything alright?"
"I just needed a drink of water. My throat was dry after earlier," she did not want to think about earlier.
"Are you better now?" Erik asked openly. He let her interpret that how she may.
Christine said, "Yes I think so; and also no." she crawled up next to him and lay with her head on a pillow, thinking how strange it felt to be so comfortable next to him in a bed.
"No?" Erik whispered into her ear. "Care to elaborate?" he asked hesitantly.
"I feel absolutely wretched, Erik," she started. "Raoul came here because he was worried about me. He thought I had been kidnapped by you or someone else and came looking for me."
I told you so Erik thought but would never say it out loud.
"Erik," she said as she played with a button on his shirt front, "I've hurt him."
Good.
"The way you were crying I thought it the other way around," he said.
"He hurt me too, although not how you think he might have," she admitted.
Erik settled back down into bed with her, his face resting on the pillow next to hers so their eyes were level in the flickering light.
"Will you tell me what happened?" he tried once more to find out what transpired.
Christine did not want to. She knew how hurt he would be if he knew any details of any of it. "He accused you of entrancing me."
Erik did not expect to hear that and almost laughed, "Does he still believe the opera ghost rumors?"
"Erik, I'm serious. He thinks you have me under some kind of control that I'm unable to get away from. He doesn't understand how I could possibly be attracted to you."
Erik nodded, swallowing hard as he did not understand it either. "He came here to steal you away, didn't he?"
Christine shamefully nodded yes.
"And you are upset because you don't know whether or not to leave with him? Is that it?" Erik choked out.
"No!" she said, sitting up a little in bed. "No, that isn't it at all. I told him I didn't want to leave. I told him that he should go and he shouldn't have come in the first place."
Erik was skeptical. "I seriously doubt he is going to leave if he thinks you are not in your right mind being with me."
"I'm worried about that too," she confessed. Deep down she knew it was not the last time she would see Raoul and that another confrontation between he and Erik was only inevitable. Oh, why had she kissed him? Why had she told him she loved him? She only meant it as a gesture of apology. She loved him as a brother, but now in hind sight, he might see her confession as something else, which would only encourage him further.
"I don't like seeing you cry like that, Christine," Erik said truthfully. "You know I can't bear to see you unhappy."
"I know that, Erik," she replied. "It's just that I feel I've just lost my best friend." Her voice hitched on that last sentence, knowing it to be all too true. She was completely torn. Stay with her love, and lose her dearest friend; say goodbye to the inferno Erik brought out in her for the comforts of a hearth fire?
Erik felt guilty. He hated the Vicomte more than anybody else, but he never wanted to see Christine hurt as a result of that loathing. "I'm sorry Christine, but you can't be with us both." He knew he was making her choose and felt awful for it because it hurt her to do so, not because he didn't want to be the victor.
"Don't you think I know that?" she said back, fighting back tears. She exhaled loudly. "I need to sleep." She rolled over and faced away from him so he would not see the tears on her pillow. He settled in behind her, draping his arm around her waist and began to hum a lullaby softly. Despite feeling him cupping her body behind her and holding her close, she had never felt lonelier.