Chapter 22: Heaven on Earth

Erik woke up and rubbed his eyes, his body ached because he had slept too much. It seemed that he had sunk into the bed and the fabric had adhered to his spine. Erik groaned and got up, noticing that the bed was empty. He worried a little because the last he had known his wife was asleep beside him. As she had been for the past couple days, and he never noticed her moving, which was odd for him to say the least. It was unlike him to not notice when she moved in the bed beside him, rough sleeper that she was. Christine often hit him lightly in her dreams and though it did not hurt him, it woke him a little.

The fact that he had been able to rest so deeply was puzzling to him and first off where the hell was his wife? But then the sound of singing floated to his ears, the jewel song from Faust. He smiled, and went to the front room where she was sitting knitting something or other. Erik could not believe how beautiful she looked sitting in that chair, with her belly swollen and a piece of needlework in her lap. She looked peaceful, calm and relaxed as the smells of cooking wafted to his nose, and he looked around the room to see his wife had been making him his favorite food.

He couldn't believe that she had been able to cook for him, what with her swollen belly making her ill and tired. But she had and then knit things but he supposed this was what normal expectant wives did. They cooked and cleaned and made baby garments. Erik went to the table where his blackberry crepe and Russian tea were waiting; he knew that no one else made them because only she knew to use brown sugar instead of white. It made him smile to think of how normal she appeared and how perfect this moment was.

Erik never wanted to wake up from this dream. Surely this must be some dream and he must still be asleep. That was the only explanation he could think of for this perfect moment. He was asleep in his underground lair and had been for months. Erik was certain he was asleep in his coffin and dreaming, sure that he would wake up and be cold and alone as he always had been. But no…that was impossible as no one could sleep for months straight. He knew for a fact and many hours of reading that though it was possible to stay awake for week, it was impossible to sleep for more than two days at a time.

The human body could not sleep for extended periods because it required nourishment and exercise of both the physical and mental. But if he wasn't sleeping than there was only one other option and it did not surprise him. Erik knew that he was not awake, and that he was dead at last. He was dead and in hell where he would be tortured for all eternity for the sins he had so heinously committed. It did not frighten him and he smirked inwardly as he realized he had been right, hell was far better than his life, or was it?

He had always imagined the fiery pit of legends that his mother had warned him of. That place where he would burn with the fires and it would be nothing but endless pain. Erik never imagined that hell would be like this. So beautiful, so warm and welcoming giving him everything he ever wanted…and then taking it away. He had heard men of the church talking about how personal eternal damnation could be but he never knew that it would be this bad. As Erik had grown he had known he was destined for the outer darkness and never ending abyss.

Erik thought that perhaps a repeat of the horrors of his past, or an endless show of them might be his punishment. But not quite this personal, not to see everything he ever wanted before him and just out of his reach. Forever, out of his reach but the image would always be there in his mind. He watched her, heard her humming some sort of children's tune and dozing off in her seat. He looked down at the food, sneering and wondering what Persephone's pomegranate is like. The man wasn't about to find out, if this was hell than the food was demonic and he tossed the plate over, crying.

It landed with a resounding clatter and the food went all over the floor. He did not notice the yelp that Christine gave as he went into the room and slammed the door with a loud bang and locked himself in. Darkness swarmed him, calmed his mind the way it always did, whispering that it would hide his face and heart from this cruel world. He took comfort in it (little though it may have been) as he closed his eyes where the image of Christine haunted the backside of his eyelids and he shook his head vigorously to no avail. The image would not let him be and he let out a groan, slamming his fist through the vanity mirror.

He heard the crunching chink of the glass and felt the hot, wet blood gush from his balled fist. It trickled down his palm and ran down his arm, dripping onto the wooden floor to form a sizable crimson puddle. Erik looked at his reflection in the blood with a grim smile of satisfaction as he tore off his mask and used it to mop the blood so that the white silk was spattered. He put it back on his face, feeling it stick to his skin with the drying plasma. He clenched his fist, hissing as the glass sliced his skin. But even the pain (his other companion) was no solace to him anymore.

Erik sighed and sat down heavily on the bed; if he must be in hell then he would serve his sentence on his own terms. In absolute solitude where he would not have to see this vision, he would allow his spirit to rot away into nothingness. His torment would fade as he did and that would be the end of it. Surely hell was not forevermore; surely even eternity had an end and he would be grateful when that end came. Until then he would ride out this nightmare in the silent comfort of solitude, embraced by absolute darkness. But then as fate would have it, God in his sick humor sent the voice of his love coming through the door.

"Erik dear are you all right?" she asked.

"Go away…" he groaned.

"Erik?" she said, "hold on I am coming."

For some reason, Erik was unsure why this was, he expected her to leave him in peace but instead he heard the jiggling of the lock. He groaned, forgetting that he was dead for a moment and wondered how she learned to pick a lock. But this was hell so the demons could do whatever they liked. Erik did not intend to look at her or 'it' as the case may be, but when he turned to face the fiery bane of his existence he saw Christine standing there. She was right in front of him looking both concerned and mildly annoyed, and still stunningly beautiful as he had always remembered she was.

The frown on her face, coupled with her hands on her hips was adorable and just the mere sight of her hurt him. He had never thought that a demon could be so beautiful, but he supposed that even fallen angels retained their beauty. Satan himself had after all. It was stated in the bible that he was too beautiful to lay mortal eyes on. Whether he was a god-fearing man or not he now knew that the bible was real because he was in hell looking at a demon. Erik wondered if he was in the presence of Lilith herself and if she was laden with the antichrist. She was in this form the most tormenting thing he'd ever seen and he began to cry.

"Erik what's the matter… Oh my god you are bleeding!"

She reached for him and he recoiled like a caged animal, "No… no please no."

"Darling you are injured, look at you, the mirror…oh sweet Jesus, you broke the mirror on your hand why?

"I am dead and in hell…" he sobbed.

"What on earth, Erik how many days was I sick and how long were you up?" she laughed at him.

"It's not a laughing matter, but then I suppose to hell-spawn it is a cause for hilarity."

"Hell-Spawn, Erik Léopold Mansart what on earth… are you ill?" she asked softly, feeling his forehead.

"No!" the scream that tore from his throat was the heart-wrenching one that had turned her stomach.

"Erik…would you just calm yourself?" She crooned.

"No, I will not calm myself!" he shouted, "be gone with you."

Christine, not knowing what else to do hit him on the side of the head, causing Erik to blink, "What the hell is wrong with you today, first you spill your breakfast, you're welcome by the way…"

"You will not poison me!" he shouted.

"Now you're rambling like a madman," groaned his wife.

"I'm not rambling; I will not be tricked by some hell spawn who takes the form of a gentle woman to torment me…"

"What?" she blinked, and then reached up gently placing her cool hand on his head. "You are slightly warm I do hope that you are not ill."

"How can the dead be ill?" he moaned, clutching his head.

"Erik for the love of Jesus you are not dead…I think you should go lie down. You are clearly unwell."

"Of course…you would say that so the cycle can repeat itself with this torment."

She rolled her eyes to hide the cracking in her heart, she knew the man was unstable but this was ridiculous. He was not dead and this was not hell, Christine sat down next to him and rubbed little circles in his back. Christine kissed him on the mouth, and he gasped in a mixture of sobbing and shock. She kept it up pressing her body close to him, Erik wept as she pushed his lips his lips apart with her tongue. Christine took advantage of his open mouth and plunged her tongue to the back of his throat, running it along his teeth and the roof of his mouth.

He put his hands, palm open on her shoulders the way he had done when she hugged him that horrible night. His rigid form and unrelenting stubbornness was enough to drive her mad, and when she pulled away he dropped his head down so that he was gazing at his lap. There were tears in his watery eyes and those malformed lips trembled. His chin was wrinkled on the face, the way the skin does when one is crying, and he let out a long scream again. Retreating from her the way he used to do, it was almost like he was reverting back to the way he used to be.

Before they were in love, before she had taken those vows before God and her father-in-law. It was as if we were back in the cold cellar beneath the opera, strangers afraid of their own emotions. Erik was acting afraid to kiss her, touch her and would not meet her eyes. She reached up and made him look at her, stifling the urge to both recoil and cry out in terrified pain. It both broke her heart and scared her at the same time. She had never seen such a terrible appearance on the man and it wasn't his face that frightened her, rather the look in his raindrop eyes.

It was the look a wounded animal might give an untrusted rescuer when being coaxed to safety. His face was frightened and had tears in his eyes, she sighed knowing it was going to be one of those days when she worried about his mental state. Still she thought she had better try to get to the bottom of this mess before he got any worse. He had been known to get worse before he got better and she hadn't seen him this upset since she had removed his mask. And that was a suicidal, homicidal mess that she did not want to deal with in her current condition.

"Erik would you tell me what the matter is," she coaxed, "please?"

"I'm dead, and this is my own personal hell, where everything I have ever wanted is shown to me and nothing I can ever have!" he lamented.

"Darling look at me," she cooed, "I love you and I do not know what is going on in your head…but I want to help you so please talk to me."

"My life has been so awful that it just seems so perfect now, it's not real, and it cannot be real." he sobbed.

"Erik, dearling look at me, we are married and I am here with you…we are going to have children and they will be musical and brilliant just like you." She whispered.

The floodgates opened then and he cried as though her gentle reminder of how wonderful his life is was enough to break him. He leaned forward on his knees and sobbed loudly; Christine made a gentle tisk-tisk sound and pulled him close. Christine shifted him so that he laying his head on her lap. Her blue eyes met his silver ones and she looked at him gently, wiping the tears away as she thought of how childlike he looked. How innocent and frightened he looked, like a little boy when she knew he was a powerful man able to command, murder and love, terrified of his goodness and the future she and him were creating.

She removed the mask and headpiece from him, stroking the deformity. He was so beautiful, so powerful and so fragile when it came to her. He looked at her from her lap with the most ardent devotion, and when he captured one of her hands and brought it to his lips. Christine leaned down and kissed his mouth, tasting his tears and his love all at once. He deepened it, and she felt even in her pregnant condition that fire boiling up in her belly to settle between her legs. But she knew her body was in no condition to make love to him right now, the traditional way that is.

Christine got up and knelt down in front of him, her eyes smoky as she ran her hands over his legs and pulled open the robe. His cock was already half ready and she ran her nails along the inside of his legs. He shuddered, her nails scraped the sides of his thighs and he rose, until his manhood was waiting for her at taught attention. She then lowered her mouth to him, and he groaned as her tongue licked the bead of his head. Erik groaned and shook; he did not ever let a woman do this to him, ever, and he had never thought Christine would be doing this.

He should stop her, he knew she was too good for this but he couldn't bring himself to say no to her. Her mouth was just so warm, wet and soft on him and he needed this right now. He needed to be loved right now and she knew it. She kissed him there in ways that he wished she would on his mouth and he leaned back on the bed. He could feel himself coming and he knew he should pull out and not make her swallow it, making a baby was one thing, but feeding her his seed just seemed wrong to him.

"I am going to release angel you have to let go now…" he groaned.

"Shh, release it's all right," she said into his flesh.

Erik just felt himself letting go at her words and she held his hips while he finished into her mouth. He groaned and bucked into her the same way he always did. She sighed and let him go inside her his hips bucking into her mouth. It came out of him whether he wanted it to or not. Erik forgot all his reservations about what was right and wrong as she allowed him his relief. The small part of his mind that still considered her too pure for this sort of thing was hazy and diminishing to nothingness. He had never felt something like this before and it felt so damn good.

He heard a popping sound and came full force before she pulled away, wiping her mouth. Erik looked at her, tears in his eyes and he stood up, sliding the flaps of her robe open and he lowered her down to the bed. She groaned as he went down on her, his tongue persistent and his hands making love to her breasts until her eyes rolled back in her head. Erik was enjoying himself as he finished her off, leading her to a climatic ending where she screamed and rocked into him.

"Mmm…Erik, Erik…" his hand had now slipped to the inside of her crotch, and she was screaming.

"Tell me what you want Christine…" he whispered as he gave her a long lick from her belly to her breasts.

"Kiss me!" she panted and pulled him forward to smash their heads together as she climaxed from the last of his touch.

"Oh God, Christine I love you…" he murmured into her neck.

"I love you too…just stay calm for me."

"I'm so sorry; I do not mean to go out of my senses." He was crying.

"Shush Erik it is all right let's just close our eyes for a little while, our hosts are out and won't be back till dark." She mumbled, snuggling into him.

Erik yawned and kissed her head, before lowering his head to her belly and kissing her navel. "Mmm… goodnight angel," he said.

She smiled at him, kissing his chin, before fitting herself right where she belonged in his arms, amazed that they still fit around her swollen belly as big as it was. Christine turned her head, looking at his face as deformed as it was and marveled at just how right she felt in this man's arms. He had been frightened that this joy she felt with him was some illusion of Hell to torture him but he did not understand things. Not the way she did. He had been born and brought up in Hell, but he was never going to have to go through that again.

Christine shifted and looked down at his face, propped up on one elbow she kissed his slightly parted lips. He fell asleep as her lips closed over his and she laid her head over the steady beating of his heart. Her children kicked her, once and then twice to show that they were there and she closed her eyes. She rubbed her belly lightly, small circles the way she had seen Erik do when she had trouble sleeping on the boat. The kicking slowed to nothing and she managed to relax, her muscles cracking and popping as she stretched her tired limbs.

"Goodnight children…goodnight Erik…" She said as she fell asleep.

The young woman had not rested so well as she had that night in years, she had no fears or worries for that moment. It was just her and her lover, lying in one another's arms after they made love. Both she and Erik had been through hell, difficult childhoods where they had been left alone and abandoned in this cruel world. Lost and unloved as they had been, relying on the kindness of strangers to get by. She an orphan and he so badly beaten that he had become little more than a wounded animal, maddened by his pain and ready to do anything to be made into a normal man.

He had even been ready to kill for her love and she had broken his heart and she, not having dealt with her own inner demons had driven him to that point. Her own inner demons from when she had lost her father had made her weak. Christine knew he had been broken down and that their love nearly destroyed them both. But no matter what they did or had done she knew that she did not regret a single moment of it. The hell that they had put one another through had left them where they were now, in heaven. Whatever Hell they had come from, in each other's arms they had found Heaven on Earth.