Second to last chapter! So the eeend is nigh... (And given my failure throughout this story to stick to my update days, I'm not sure that's a bad thing...) But before this story ends, we have to check in on our couple, don't we? They've been through a lot of late... Which of course could not possibly have been avoided by any such authorly person because she is simply a conduit for the story... *blinks innocently*
Onward!
xxxi
"If you sleep much longer, we shall miss our flight."
Christine swatted at her husband, burrowing further into the blankets. "You can't miss a private plane. It leaves when you do."
He chuckled, smoothing his fingers through her hair, surprised when he lay down next to her and pulled her close. "True," he agreed, a smile in his voice. "But I thought you were anxious to rescue your Wellies. I believe you stated we were insulting them by leaving them abandoned for so long."
An insistent tug in her heart confirmed that he was right, but she was warm and comfortable now that he was once again beside her, and she was not very anxious to move. At least not yet.
It had been ten days since they had come to Erik's underground home. Ten days beneath the theatre that had once meant so very much to her. Ten days since they had left the Shah's estate in the detective's borrowed car.
Her cuts were healing nicely with Erik paying particular attention to their care. She had fretted about scars, worried that he would think her ugly if any permanent reminders remained of their brief captivity, but Erik had given her an incredulous look and bent low, placing a kiss on each of her bandages. "You are absurd, little wife," he told her most sincerely. She had huffed, not so secretly pleased that he could so easily dismiss her troubles. He had been wary of touching her too much, but as the days had progressed—as the quiet of his home, the soothing melodies he had played for her had seeped into her consciousness—she had welcomed him back to her, a happy retreat from the cruel delay to their honeymoon.
Erik's home was nothing like she imagined.
That first day, when he had carried her beneath the opera house, she could admit how frightened she had been. The tunnels were a dark, dreary place, and she had huddled close to Erik lest something reach out and grab her in the blackness. He had sighed a few times when she had screeched unnecessarily, eventually humming soothingly into her ear as he walked, moving them toward his home.
In Nadir's car he had explained their destination, but the whole thing seemed entirely too bizarre to be real.
Except that it was.
Never could she have imagined such a home. The exterior did not resemble a dwelling; not at all. Too rocky, too obscure, and to her utmost surprise they had even been forced to make use of a boat before they could even find the entrance. But when he opened it, when the rooms filled with light from the carefully placed sconces along the walls, it was quite the marvel. Plush carpets, rich furnishings offset what would have been a gloomy existence based upon the conditions of the tunnels beyond. But her Erik had transformed it.
It was dusty from his time away, and she was too tired from the entire ordeal to tend to anything. So after only the briefest of tours, he had taken her to a bedroom, pulling away the current quilt on the bed and laying down a fresh blanket before tucking her in securely.
Perhaps had she felt at all normal, his fussing would have been unappreciated. But exhausted and sore, she was grateful for his care.
And for the subsequent insight into her husband's life before she had known him.
His music room was a magnificent thing. He had led her there on their first real evening together. Erik had taken her hand, a little timidly, a little shyly, guiding her into a room off the main living space. While everything she had seen of her Erik suggested he was of a neat and orderly sort, his music room suggested quite the opposite. Papers cluttered nearly every surface, compositions abandoned that must have taken hours to complete.
All forgotten, because of her.
"You couldn't have taken them with you?" Christine asked, walking forwards and picking up a sheet from the topmost pile. It was detailed, though the ink smudged and splattered on occasion, a testament to how hurriedly he had worked to put the notes onto paper.
Erik shrugged, leaning against the doorjamb, watching her.
She would have felt self-conscious, except he did not appear to mind her perusal. Perhaps he wanted her to know this part of him. Wanted her to know more of him besides the dark and lonely parts he had bared to her when he spoke about his past. Her heart warmed to think that it pleased him to share himself with her.
"I did not think that a marshal would travel with a host of compositions in his belongings."
Christine smirked, returning the sheet music to its brethren and walking over to the large pipe organ dominating the room. An odd choice, to be sure. A piano would have surprised her less, though to find any such instrument at all in this house of stone was incredible enough. "You could have come up with some story to excuse it, I'm sure."
Erik grimaced. "I did not like to lie to you. I hope you know that."
Christine reached out and skimmed her fingers over the keys, not daring to press down on any of them. "I know," she confirmed, meaning it. The way he looked at her, there was no denying his distress at his past deception.
He had played for her then, had her sit upon the organ seat beside him as he coaxed forth music more beautiful than she thought possible, keeping to the sweeter refrains. His song spoke of happiness, contentment. And she hoped it was a reflection of how he felt with her.
She worried for him; still did even now. He tended not to sleep, and she had found him more than once watching her as she dozed, until finally she had coaxed him to her with beckoning arms, biding him to tell her of his troubles.
"How can you forgive me? For everything? For lying and for…" His finger drifted over the largest of her bandages, not at all pressing but making his meaning quite clear.
"Erik," she soothed, trying to find the words to adequately express how little she blamed him. "I told you before that the Shah was responsible for all this. And I mean it still. You said that I did what was necessary, and so did you. I don't… I won't let us be ruined by what he did. He doesn't have that power over you anymore, not if you don't let him."
They had made love after that. Her Erik had been so tender, so careful, his eyes ever watchful for even the slightest discomfort on her part. There was none, not when he treasured her so completely. There was an urgency that had not been there before as she clutched him a little nearer, held him a little closer. They had experienced the pain of the unknown, of the possibility of losing one another due to the designs of another, and to feel this wholeness once again made her eyes burn and her pulse quicken all the more. Her heart ached a little when he brought a cloth and shyly turned away as she cleaned herself afterward, before he eased her back into her nightshirt, pulling her close and arranging the blankets as he wished, his own form carefully concealed in pajamas.
"They won't find us here," she reminded mostly to him, but maybe a bit for her own sake as well. "We can be naked whenever we want."
He'd kissed her temple, hushing her gently. "Sleep," he told her, and she hoped he would heed his own suggestion as well. He needed it, despite his denials.
And she was gratified when she awoke first the next morning, her husband curled about her back, his breath deep and even as he slept. She appreciated his desire to guard her, to watch over her as she slept so that none could ever interfere again. But if they were to truly heal, to move past their abduction, he needed to trust that a moment's respite would not end in disaster.
And she needed that as well.
On their fourth day, she broached the subject of returning to their previous abode, and Erik's immediate response made it perfectly plain that he did not approve of such an action. "It isn't safe," he told her firmly, turning back to the fireplace and poking at a log to urge the flame higher. They had taken to enjoying their evenings—or what she thought were evenings—before a cheery fire. She'd pushed his couch closer, answering his protests with a smile and a pat of her hand upon the cushion, inviting him to keep her company. His scowl had eased after that, apparently more desirous of holding her close than complaining over his furnishings being moved about.
He settled back with her, his arm draping about her shoulders of its own accord, and she lay back against him, watching the log and flame flicker and meld. "We don't have to stay there if you don't want to," she assured him gently. She'd given it a great deal of thought and yet still had not concluded where ultimately she would like to live. There was something romantic in the idea of leaving all of this behind in favor of their western retreat—of living near the ocean with only her Erik for company.
And yet, being back—even secluded as they were—there was something appealing about remaining within the confines of this city. She had yet to call Meg, but had determined that when she felt ready, she would do so. She missed her, wanted to at least confide some semblance of what had transpired over the course of her absence, but had yet to broach the subject with Erik.
Erik hummed noncommittally, brushing his fingers through her hair before tugging at her sleeve.
Well, his sleeve.
"Perhaps I shall refuse to procure clothes for you. Then I can keep you quite as you are."
Christine blushed. Unsurprisingly, Erik had no female clothes within his home, and she had taken to wearing naught but one of his shirts and a pair of his longest socks as she lounged about his home, resting and dozing all the while. She did not know where her dress had disappeared to, but it had not been there when at last she had awoken from her initial sleep and taken a luxurious bath. Erik had not answered her enquiries, and eventually she had ceased asking, if only so he would stop blinking at her so innocently, claiming not to recall that there had been a dress at all.
And, she was forced to admit, it made it remarkably easy to undress when certain moods urged them to do so.
"What about our things?" she urged gently. Tempting as his offer was to continue in their isolation, her most treasured items were still at that little house on the beach, and it would grieve her thoroughly to lose them.
He frowned when she told him that. "I could go and return as soon as I had procured them. The trip need not take very long."
Christine sat back, not at all liking the thought of him leaving her. His home was a cozy thing when he was present there—when he continued to surprise her with each of its strange features, to share in warm baths and hot tea and all the best things. But she would be confused and frightened to remain buried here all alone. "Why wouldn't I come with you?"
Erik said nothing, instead fiddling with the hem of her shirt.
Christine sighed. "I can't stay here by myself," she told him plainly. "I'd go crazy. If you... if you really don't want me to come, maybe I could stay at my old apartment." This time there was no mistaking precisely how distasteful he thought her suggestion. "Why not?"
"Your security is woefully lacking. It was only by some stroke of providence that no harm came to you whilst living there."
Defensiveness welled within her, and she huffed. "I quite liked that place, thank you. It was all mine, and I don't like you saying bad things about it."
Erik looked away from her, a great deal of his apology losing any sincerity by his tone and posture. "I am sorry, Christine, but I would not be able to go if you insisted upon remaining there. Not when I am so well acquainted with its myriad of flaws."
Christine very nearly retorted that the only reason he had such knowledge was because he had been attempting to break in himself, but he already blamed himself for so much that it seemed too mean-spirited, even in her current mood.
"You said yourself, the trip doesn't have to be long. But, Erik," she insisted, taking his hand so he would look at her. "Please, this is important to me. Couldn't you at least think about it for a bit and try to decide how we could go together? In a way where you'd still be comfortable?"
He stared at her for a while longer eventually sighing and pulling her close. "How can I deny you anything when you look at me that way?"
It was a few days later when he had informed her of his plans. She was surprised at how nervous she became when he announced that they would indeed be leaving together on a private plane that would take them there and back again, all within the same day. No more hotels, no more driving for hours.
No more fortress to keep the world away.
But her fears only made her all the more determined that this was the right thing to do for both of them. It was too easy to lock themselves away, to waste away their lives and talents with only each other for company. And if that was what they chose to do in future, that would be all right, but she would not allow them to do so simply because they were too afraid to take a different course.
But that night she had asked Erik for his phone. She knew that he had one as he had spoken to Detective Nadir on it the day before. Samuel had apparently disappeared, but the Shah was still within custody, the charges against him long and serious.
"He's not getting out," Nadir had assured them, Erik not minding as she pressed her ear close enough so she could hear as well. Evidently the time for their secret conversations had passed. "You won't need to worry about him again."
"I won't have to testify, will I?" Christine had asked Erik afterward, hating the thought of doing so, but willing to do so if it was necessary to see him imprisoned.
Erik shook his head. "No, Christine. You need not think of him ever again. He will face justice, and that is enough."
He was surprisingly forthcoming when she at last had asked about the reason for their abduction, of all that the Shah had told him while she had endured the bite of the knife in the room beyond.
"Did that woman… did she ever try to… be with you?"
It was a silly thing to ask. She had known of her Erik's lack of experience already, but it sickened her to think of such a cruel woman propositioning him—perhaps even coercing him into something so intimate.
Erik shrugged. "She was not the first to have done so. The Shah had many visitors of the female sort; women of very… questionable reputation. They did not want me for myself," he pressed on, watching her face carefully for any reaction, even as she struggled simply to listen. She had been the one silly enough to ask.
"Then why did they… want that?"
He smiled at her, and she could see his sadness, the pain buried there. "Simply to say that they had done so—had bedded the Angel of Death and had lived to speak of it. They were not a good people, Christine, and not worth your time and attention. I rejected them, whenever they offered, and that is what matters, is it not?" He looked at her a little unsurely, and she hugged him close.
She hated that they had sought to use him that way—to have offered him such things simply so they could gloat and marvel as if he was not a man with feelings of his own. "I want to be with you for yourself. To be close to you, and to love you, and to share myself with you."
She felt him press a kiss into her hair, shuddering a little as he did so. "I know you do, my Christine. You are all I could ever hope for in a wife."
And she could imagine no better husband.
Sooo... Looks like things are turning out rather alright for them... about time too! Think Christine was too forward to ask that last bit? And think it's right that they're instigating a Wellie rescue mission?
*sniffles* Only one segment to go!