Part 13:
((I changed my mind. i'm not done. don't know where this is going but i felt like we needed more closure, more talks, more.. stuff. shrug. see if you like it!))
C-
We all chat for a long time, eating the breakfast Erik made, figuring things out, just reconnecting in new ways. It's so utterly charming how well he's getting along with Meg and Raoul, and so sweet how well they're reacting to him. I knew Meg would be okay with him, but Raoul? I'm not sure we ever told him Erik wore a mask, but he doesn't seem at all surprised or off-put.
And yet, despite the glow of friendship that my five companions give off, I can't seem to join in. I think, at first, that I'm still just sleepy, but as the vestiges of sleep do drift away to full awareness, the sort of social lag remains. I feel, instead, a growing glow of something else, something.. unhappy. I try to ignore it, and just be glad and satisfied that we're all here and safe and alive, but it refuses to go unheard. I wonder if I'll explode from trying to keep it in when Meg says something.
"You gonna stay here, honey?" She asks, and I take a moment to realize she means me.
"Yeah. Yeah, I think so." I reply from the couch, from Erik's side, as she stands and gathers her things. Raoul follows shortly behind her.
"Well, I gotta go. Mom's probably worried and I think you could use some alone time." She winks, but she doesn't mean anything gross by it. She flashes a peace sign, and Raoul waves with a small 'see you later' tacked on. Then, they see themselves out before any of the rest of us can do anything.
"Do you have anything more to say, Daroga? Now that it's just us?" Erik asks, a little suddenly. Nadir thinks on it for a moment, and then shakes his head, tufts of white hair fluttering slightly.
"No, I daresay I've done and said everything I need to, for the moment. You're in good hands, and I trust you won't do anything foolish on your first day free. Have you any questions for me, either of you?"
"None at the moment." Erik says, looking down to me. I shake my head. I'm sure I'll think of something later, but for now it's all I can do to keep my insides in with all the squirming of this unknown feeling.
"Ah, well, you can always call if you have questions. For now, my nephew and I should be on our way." Nadir says, and Darius groans, having finally settled into the couch. "Oh, come now, your mother will want to know what happened."
"Yeah, I guess." He grumbles, standing. Nadir, Erik, and I all stand as well, Erik and I walking behind Nadir as he and Darius head towards the front door.
"It's been most delightful to see you again, Christine. I look forward to meeting up with you in the future." Nadir dips his head as he says goodbye, disappearing behind the door to the shop, which Erik closes before turning to me. He stares at me, quizzically, a touch of concern in his eyes.
"What's wrong, Christine?" He asks, incurious, like he already knows. I don't know what to say, so I don't say anything, opting to shake my head. Erik takes a step towards me, hands out. "I know something's wrong, Christine. Please." The feeling I've been trying to squash bubbles up, unhappy and loud. I swallow hard, and meet Erik's eyes again. He's nervous, but steadfast.
"I don't know." I answer him honestly, but I look down. I don't know where this conversation will go if I don't even know what's wrong.
"What are you feeling?" He steps forward again, hands still out and open and almost in reach. I could reach out and take his hands with just a stretch, and I want to, but I feel held back. Why? What's keeping me from being happy in what should be a happy moment? What's wrong?
"I'm angry." I state without thinking, and I realize it's true. That bubbling miasma is anger, the deep and dark kind that hides and makes you think you aren't angry, until you have only the tiniest reason or excuse to be, and then you know you always were, and so badly so. "I'm angry, Erik. Because you.. you made me leave. And that hurt. A lot. And then you left, and it hurt. But I thought at least you were safe somewhere, and then you- I thought-" I can't finish those thoughts, can't trace the lines of ideas through to a complete form, throat closing. It's too much to think about, too much to put into words.
"I'm sorry. I know, I know what I did, and I am so very sorry, Christine." Erik says, his own voice tight and awkward. I manage to look up to find his eyes are wet, behind the mask. I fumble, for a moment, internally, and then take a step forward, opening my arms as I do so I can fall into his. We pull together and I feel safe, head tucked under his chin, arms around his back, his around mine. Safe, yes, but angry, still.
"I'm sorry.. I don't want to be mad. I want to be happy that you're alive. I mean- I am, I so very am. Am so very? Whatever. I am so very, very glad that you're alive. But I'm also- it still hurts." I say. I feel his fingers pull through my hair while he breathes hard, thinking, probably.
"You have every right to be mad, Christine. I hurt you. By sending you away, knowing full well how you'd been left or discarded by those you loved and trusted before. It is- I was wrong. I thought I was protecting you, but I was wrong, and I did not realize until it was much too late. So, please, be angry. I would not ask you not to be."
"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask, after a moment of thought. "Wouldn't that have been easier?"
"Yes.. And no. To tell you would have been to remind myself, and admit to you, all the reasons I am unworthy of any of this. But it would have spared us both much heartache and you an attack from my... Oh, I was foolish." He sighs. "And my error resulted in you getting hurt by those.. those fiends." He snarls, pressing further into my hair. "I practically sent you to them with a ribbon and a note that reads 'attack me'. Heaven help me."
"I put up a fight, you know. I stabbed a guy." I tell him, and he pauses. "With my key."
"I shouldn't have expected anything else. You are a survivor, Christine. A warrior." He chuckles, surprised but not.
"That doesn't.. freak you out?" I angle my head so I can look up at him, just a little.
"I've seen and done and had done to me much worse than that, if that's what you're asking. If you mean am I disturbed by your ability to defend yourself, or the ferocity or the apparent violence with which you did, then no, I am not. I could not fault you for any of these. I'm actually rather enamored with it, truth be told." I can't think of anything to say to that, so I go back to thinking, digging my hands in the fabric of his vest, rough and tight and new. "I'm so sorry I hurt you, Christine."
"It's.. it's not fine, but it will be. Like a lot of things, I understand why you did it. And it makes sense. I might have done the same thing, too. I'm still- it still just hurts. It aches, like a bruise. I thought it had gone away but.." I shake my head, my nose rubbing against the front of his shirt, running into a button.
"I'm sorry." He can only seem to repeat. "Can you forgive me? I would.. I would understand if you couldn't."
"That's the thing. I already have. I understand, and I'm.." What am I feeling? Do I even know? "I'm not really mad anymore. It just still hurts. How quickly everything changed. We went from being the most fine we'd ever been to over. In an instant. And you.. it was so quick, Erik, I can't.. Was it so easy? To push me away?" Almost an answer in itself, Erik pulls away, hands gripping my arms fiercely.
"No. It was a small hell to do it- and it was not worth it." He stares at me intently, leaning ever so slightly so that he's not looming over me, still and so very sure. He speaks with a fire, a burning glare in his words, and his voice somehow knifelike, each syllable piercing the air. "These past months- all I could do was think of what went wrong, where I misstepped. That was it. That moment.. I regret it- so dearly. The moment in which I decided to end it for your safety's sake was the moment I nearly doomed you and I both. I have been damned a long, long time, Christine, but I would cast my own soul to hell if my actions led to you being.." The fire suddenly goes out. He melts from that fearsome shadow I saw on that last night into the man I more commonly know. The soft one, the careful, cautious, caring one. "I can't express how stupid I know myself to be, Christine. And I am so sorry. I know where I went wrong, and I will not let it happen again. Please, be angry, be hurt, and I will take it all, but know that it was the most regrettable thing I have ever done, and that it will never, ever happen again." He ends, sighing.
"Hey.." I say, craning forward, still pinned in place by his surprisingly strong hands. I put my face as close as I can to his, trying to get him to look at me. After a moment, I succeed, Erik lifting his eyes ever so slowly to mine. "It'll be okay. I do forgive you. I just want you to stay. And I am.. scared you'll leave again, but I want to trust you. I mean, I do trust you, I want to believe you, because sometimes those aren't always the same thing. Just.. show me, okay? And talk to me? Don't.. you can't decide things about us like.. like that without me. It's not good for either of us, or 'us' us. You know?" I ask, and he nods.
"Communication is key. Didn't you tell that to me?" He grins, a little sadly.
"I probably did." I smile, not sad at all. "I am glad you're back, though. I missed you a lot. A lot." I pull him into a hug again, the weight of the previous moment dissipating, just a little.
"And I, you. I saw you.. you took care of the garden, while I was away." His voice, while cheerier, still seems heavy. I guess he was worried about his garden. I would be too.
"I couldn't stand the thought of your hard work, your sanctuary dying. I did my best, and, as usual, google helped immensely for the things I couldn't quite remember."
"You did a marvelous job. Everything is still quite alive, even as autumn is falling."
"You taught me pretty well." I murmur, remembering all the conversations, the lessons, bent over pots and dirt and plants. I remember dinners and lunches under the magnolias, I remember embraces and smiles and jokes and laughs. I remember smiles, and I feel much better.
E-
I can't seem to remember holding onto her like this before, like air to a drowning man. I'm trying to hide it, of course, but it's true. I was so certain, from the moment I stepped foot in that car without her, I'd never see her again. But here we are, and I can still scarcely believe it. When she was still asleep this morning, though she was in my arms, it may as well have been a dream for how clear this moment feels, how real and certain and true. And I cannot fathom trying to leave her again. I missed her dearly, desperately, those months away, incarcerated, but I don't think I missed her more than when I knew I could come home to her. Now we're here, together, and I worry that we're distant, somehow, in a new way. A way we were never plagued with even when we were strangers still.
So I just hold her tightly, here, in my dim kitchenette in my dusty studio, happy just to be here. And I remember all the times I've held her before, going backwards in memory until I land on the first time. More than half a year ago already. How awkward we still were, ginger and new to each other! But our lunch, our first lunch under the magnolias- and what were we even talking about? It was important, wasn't it? She was hurt by something, so it must have been important. And I held her, and let her cry, and wanted to cry with her, she was so pained, and there, in my arms. Just like she's here now.
Our embraces became so common after that. I needed only offer my open arms and she'd be there, and I soon learned the same could be true in reverse. Why does this moment, then, feel so much like that first time? New and uncertain and strange? Almost as tense as our last.. that terrible, perfect moment in the dark of the square, out in the open, together, but for what we both thought was the last time..
"Christine?" I ask. She turns her head upward to face me.
"Yes?"
"Can we.. that is, might we do something?" Am I brave enough to ask it? Am I brave enough to do it?
"Depends on the something, I guess. What is it?" She asks with curiosity, a light smile playing across her face.
"Might we go outside? Together? I've never- the last time, we- I've never seen the shop from outside before-" I start and stop again, unsure how to express all the small reasons I want- need- to go outside with her. She smiles widely, giggling slightly. I think she understands, somehow.
"I'd love to." She responds, and pulls me by one hand down the shop stairs, past the counter, to the front door. I am so glad she does this, for while I desperately wish to stand outside, a free man with the love of his life like any other man might, I know that I don't quite have the strength to take those steps first, myself. There is too much fear built into these bones for me to ever live under that freedom on my own. It's hard to see the shop littered with dead plants, what was once an oasis in this city now just as dead and defeated as the concrete, but I am pulled along too fast to dwell on it. Christine unlocks the door, the world outside a misty blue-green of slight shadow cast by the distant, setting sun, and steps outside, pulling me with her.
Out on the sidewalk, in the shadow of the sun, freely so for the first time in all my adult life.. I'm not sure what I feel. I do feel free, feel unhindered, unchained, unbound, in all senses. I could run, I could walk, or bike or drive anywhere. I no longer have to look over my shoulder in fear of old foes, though I am definitely skittish of forming new ones. There's no one on the street right now, but that will not always be true, will it? Will it be easy to walk with Christine in daylight? No, assuredly not. But will it be worth it?
I look down at her, breathing hard, almost unbelieving that I'm here, and free, free! She beams at me, but there is a touch of sadness in her eyes. The deep, hollow kind that consumes your heart, the kind that haunts her so easily, and tortures her so much.. The kind I fear I cannot soothe.
"Christine? What's wrong?" I had guessed before that she was more than unhappy with our last few conversations, namely the one where I tried to banish her from my life, but now? Now, I haven't the faintest idea. Is it more of that hurt? Have I done something new to cause this? Is it an old ache revisiting her, unknown to me but familiar to her?
"I just.. I know I asked you to stay, Erik, and I really, really want you to, but I just.. The look of you, out here for the first time.. You could go anywhere. Do and be anything. You're so talented and smart and there's so much you can and should go out and experience!" She laughs, gesturing, it seems, to the very world. "And I want you to! More than anything! I just.. I realized that if I asked you to stay with me, forever and always and whatever, I was asking you to stay in a cage with me. And I can't ask you to do that. Of course I can't do that to you, not after you just got out of a different, lliteral cage! God.. I just.. You should go. Out there, out here, and be whatever you want to be, not what I want you to be.." The smile fades to a sort of grimace, and the ache transparent in her is too much for me. I feel tears roll over the edges of my eyes, and, fearful but feeling too much to ignore it, I remove my mask to free them. She looks up at me in awe and surprise, but not fear. She is, somehow, not afraid of me. And if she is not afraid of me, I cannot find it in myself to be afraid to move forward. I set my mask down on the window sill, and take Christine's hands in my own, almost too teary to speak.
"Christine. I want nothing more than to be with you, wherever you should go. It's true, I could very well walk from this city and this life and start over and be or do anything, and I might well find happiness in that new life. But it would be nothing compared to the joys of knowing you. Of this I am certain. I want to be your happiness, or, or even a fraction of it, if I can manage that much. I want to be here, with you, because I love you more than I thought any single creature could love, let alone be loved this much." My voice wavers so much, so faint at some parts, and too breathy in others, but I hope it shows her how true the words are for me. How true and real she is to me.
"But I don't want you to be stuck! I'm stuck here, but you don't have to be, Erik! I don't want you to, to imprison yourself for me again! I mean, god, you broke your contract or whatever to save me, knowing it'd mean death or life in prison! I can't ask that again."
"You don't have to ask, Christine. You are my freedom. You are my choice. I choose to stay with you, Christine, and that is the most meaningful choice I have ever been given." She looks up at me, dumbfounded, uncomprehending. Her lips shake with unseen emotion. "To- to choose you is to choose to keep going. To choose life, and hope, and light in the dark. My life was primarily shadow before you, graced only by those faint glimmers that are the dear Daroga and his family, but you, you, Christine, are the one who brought me into light. I have hope, I have reasons, I have dreams again, Christine, because of you. I choose those things, and I choose you. Does this.. is that of any sense?" I laugh shortly at myself, wondering if I have, perhaps, gone too far? She sniffs, and grips my fingers with her hands.
"I feel that, a lot. It- I- I didn't know-" She stops, her face both pained and elated. "I thought, I thought I'd be a trap to you now. I don't want you to be stuck."
"I'd be stuck with you any day, my dear." I shake my head, looking down at her. What an impossible girl she is, to think of me so. I love her for it, though, and I couldn't imagine or dream her any differently.
"And I'd choose to be stuck with you, too. You don't feel like a cage. You feel like.. like freedom." She nods, her tears finally bubbling over. She switches between obviously laughing and sobbing, settling eventually on the latter. "Do you really think of me like that? Do you really.. me? In all the world, of all the people.. me?" I almost die, right here and now, hearing that. Does she doubt herself so much?
"Christine.. Look at who you're talking to. I'm not exactly.. ideal. You've spoken my exact thoughts. I.. can't understand what you see in me. You are perfect, and I am.. well, me." She gasps, indignant.
"You're perfect! I'm so.. average. You're talented and smart and cool and you know so much and you've done so much and you have so much potential- what am I next to that? I'm-" She shakes her head, and I take the opportunity to speak up.
"The most kind and caring and thoughtful person I've ever known. You are selfless and passionate and dedicated, and smart and talented, too. You do things and say things I can't understand, because they are purely for other people, Christine, and I am purely selfish. Do you understand how.. intoxicating you are? How utterly delightful you are to be around? You care so much, about everything, and everyone, even someone like me, and you choose to stay with me? Me? When I look like this? When I've done terrible things, and to you- especially to you? You are impossible, Christine, and I adore you for all that you are." I could write symphonies about her, and, truth be told, I've already started, though that's neither here nor there. Christine sighs, shaking her head again, blonde hair ruffling.
"What you look like doesn't matter, and you did all those terrible things because other people did terrible things to you, and probably worse. You walk so carefully around everything, making sure everything is okay before you act, always thinking of other people, too! You put everyone else above yourself and it's not fair, because no one ever put you first, and you still turned out so sweet, and caring, and if that's selfish of you.. I don't understand the world."
"I don't understand it either." I sigh. How did we get so close together? Her face is nearly next to mine. How does she not recoil? How is she not disgusted? Afraid? How is she so.. fine with what I am? Her eyes are fixated on mine, neither of us able to break away, and I almost forget what I am, lost in her eyes.
"All I know is I love you. Sometimes nothing else makes any sense, and sometimes, even that doesn't make sense, but it's always true." She says, eyes suddenly wide, but earnest. Bound together like this, peering endlessly into each other, I have no choice but to believe her, and new tears try to form. I shut them down, blinking. I have to tell her what I'm thinking, damn it. She needs to know-
"I love you, Christine. I've never loved anything, before, except possibly flowers and music, but I love so much more since I started loving you. I do believe, in some ways, that you made me a person by giving me this."
"But I didn't- You were always a person, Erik.." I shake my head, though.
"You must understand: I was simply alive before, Christine. I met you, and you finished what Daroga started. Your kindness, your caring, made me feel. Brought me to life! Made me hope and dream and love- and what it is, to love, my dear, compared to that emptiness before. I am so much more, now. I wish I could show you.. I wish you could feel what I feel, what you've given me.."
"Gosh, I.. I'm not that special.."
"You are to me." I manage to say. I wish I had the language to describe all that she is, but she is wordlessly indescribable to my feeble mind.
"Oh, you cheesey nerd." She sighs, but she smiles, blushing heavily. Her whole face turns raspberry pink, eyes nearly closed as she grins. "You know, you're special to me, too. You.. After Raoul and a couple other similar instances, I kinda gave up on finding anyone. I thought, 'I'm unlovable. No one wants me, because I can't give them what they want, and I can't keep someone in a relationship like that when I make them unhappy, and the chances of finding someone who's the same or doesn't care are too slim.'. I figured it'd be better for everyone if I just.. stayed single. No more heartache. And I was happy enough, single. It wasn't a source of great unhappiness, or something. But I was jealous. Of everyone who came through my life with someone special, who loved them unconditionally, and I wondered why I couldn't find that. And then.. you. You take me as I am, and that's enough for you. You say things like I'm more than just average, and that I'm pretty, and.. I have such a hard time believing it, but you make it so hard to not believe you.. You make me feel.. not just loved but, but really deserving of love. I haven't felt like that since.. since my dad. You make me feel.. really okay. Really really okay."
"I'm glad I could provide that for you. It's all I want." I murmur, genuinely pleased. If I can only improve her life.. it makes my existence worthwhile. I know that now.
"And all I want is to make you feel that way, too." She murmurs back, suddenly fierce before me, intent and focused.
"You do. I.. I am the most.. Everything I am, I.. You do so much more than that." I finally manage, all my languages and every word incapable of explaining myself. That will have to do, but she seems content with it, and brings our hands to her lips. I step forward, to plant my face in her hair, the rough texture of it the most soothing thing I can imagine for this pained face of mine. "I know.. there will be difficulties, Christine. Not everything is healed so easily, but I want to share with you. My past, if you want to know. My.. deeds. I want no more secrets from me to come between us. I may have difficulty speaking about some things, but I will answer any questions you have. Anything at all. I want to make things right between us, and I believe that cannot be if I hide myself from you. Though this prospect frightens me, I trust you. I love you." I try to explain, and I feel her nod her head in understanding.
"I don't want to hide anything from you, either. It'll take time, I'm sure, to get back to the way things were, but I think.. I think we'll be better for it. I love you. This is- you're all I want." My heart surrenders to hers once more, hearing this. How much more can I love her? How much more of myself is there to give? But every moment is a new reason, a new hope and a new dream that comes to life. I love her, my Christine.