Promise Me You'll Try (Christine)|FINISHED

[phantom]

Erik was taken aback by Christine's answer. It was so direct, so cool-headed. He saw that he could no longer frighten her out of her wits with his booming anger, short temper, mystery and masculinity. She was not the easily-intimidated, innocent child she had once been. And while part of Erik hated her for that, he was also strangely fascinated by this new Christine before him, the one who took charge and didn't back down just because he raised his voice. He loved her, yet he hated her - hated her for being right about him. Damn her, she was right. He couldn't leave now, after all he had done to find her, and if he did, he would certainly regret it. Miffed by the fact that after two years she could still read him so well and he felt like he hardly knew her, he turned his face away, refusing to give into those unrelenting big brown eyes. She still looked a bit like a child, but the way she looked at him and the way she spoke to him told him that she was most certainly not.

He looked at her when she said she needed him, denial in his eyes and on his tongue, but he could say nothing before she continued. Of course he was pleased to hear that she needed him, that she had been hearing his voice in her sleep. But those things did not necessarily correlate. "Just because you hear my singing doesn't mean that you need me," he muttered angrily. He was not angry at her as much as he was at himself for not being enough for her. He wanted her to really need him, deep in the core of her body, in her soul; he wanted her to need him so badly that if she did not have him she would feel like she was going to die. As he was thinking this he felt the warmth of a small hand radiating through his cold mask, warming the scarred skin beneath it. "I am no angel," he murmured, placing one hand on top of hers on top of his mask gently. He could feel his resolve crumbling, his anger fading. "I have done many things to you, Christine, that I should not have done. And I find myself even now wanting to do more."

He had lied to her about being an angel in the first place, and yet for some reason, in her own way, she still seemed to believe it. God had not had anything to do with it, Erik thought - it did not seem like God, if He existed, had wanted anything to do with Erik his whole life. After all, he was called the Devil's child. He looked like it, was treated like it, and most of the time felt like it - angry, abandoned, and bitter. Erik had given up somewhat on the idea of divinity; he only knew that Christine was his angel, his salvation. And at the same time she was sure to send him to Hell for what he had done to her and what he wanted. When he kissed her, fervently, hungrily, desperately, she did not push him away this time until they both felt oxygen-starved. Did she think this was wrong, now that she was married? But how could she, if it felt as right to her as it did to him? Could Raoul do this to her - could he kiss her with such dizzying passion it left her breathless and stunned?

He was breathing hard when she lay her head against him, his broad chest rising and falling against the pretty face and dark curls. How could he deny her anything? She looked so at peace, so serene when she held him. "No, I will not leave you," he whispered, a promise, when he could finally speak. "I cannot." When she told him that she would do anything for him, he took a moment to savor the thought. It would not be good to let his imagination run away with him. He took in a deep, shuddery breath, and then took Christine's hand in his own, raising it back to his face. With his other hand, he gently slid off his mask. "Touch me, Christine," he requested, again in a whisper. "You will do that for me, won't you?"

[christine]

Christine hadn't heard him yell in quite sometime. It was almost frightening for her to hear him yell at her in such a way he did. It felt like she was back in the lair after he realized she had taken off his mask. If only he had given her a chance, she wouldn't' have been afraid. Christine was young then, and naive, she was just curious at what lied beneath the mask of the man who had taught her to sing all those years. Christine looked at him and she remained silent for awhile as he spoke to her.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, she looked at him. Christine was in shock at what he was saying to her. "Yes. It does Erik. I need you desperately. Even though Raoul had been a good husband. It doesn't mean what I need most" she said to him. "Raoul didn't teach me to sing" she said softly. Christine was on the verge of tears again. "Don't leave me, not now!" she said a moment later. Whipping a tear from her face. Christine looked at him, then turned away from what he was about to say. Christine looked at him once again when he murmured that he was no angel. "Yes...Yes you are! The angel of music. To me you are that man who had taught me to sing those many years ago!" she said softly to him. Then she listened to him speak once more. Christine didn't know what else to say except to remain silent.

Silence had begun between them once more. Christine had risen from the edge of the bed, and walked over to him. Standing in front of him once more. Then having her back pressed up against his chest. Christine sighed softly and felt his hand upon hears. Rising it to touch his mask. Once she touched it she didn't know what else to do. Christine just sighed softly. "Don't say that you are not my angel Erik. Your my guardian. I need you now more than ever" she said softly. Her finger tips touching his mask. Turning around to face him once more. To view him. "Please don't leave me" she said once more. Her eyes wee almost dwelled up in tears. Then she looked at him studying him more closely.

Then she felt his head against hers for a moment. Her arms were wrapped around his face and she didn't know what to do. Gripping his arm lightly she placed her head against it. Like a young daughter to a father like figure. Christine listened to him speak. Her hand was once again risen to touch the coldness of his mask. Then she listened to what he had wanted to for his request. Christine could not deny it. "Yes...of course" she said softly. It sounded more shakily than normal. Her fingertips touched his face. All she could feel was bumpiness and then a lot of lines upon his face. Christine was not afraid. "Im not afraid of you Erik. You most know that" she said softly. Christine said nothing for a moment. Her hand never left his face she continued to touch it once more. Silence was between both of them for a moment. Not a word was spoken.

[phantom]

Erik looked at Christine where she sat on the edge of the bed, closing his eyes and opening them slowly as if to reassure himself that she was really there. It would have been so easy for him to walk over to her, to place his delicate, disciplined hands on her shoulders, to lean her back gently onto his bed, to rest his body over hers, to express to her a love which words could not do full justice. He turned his face away, knowing that he could do whatever he wanted to do to her, and knowing that she would let him do it. And it would not be because she was afraid of him and could not refuse him; it would be because she wanted him to do it. So what was it that was stopping him?

Perhaps he wanted to hear what she had to say; perhaps he knew that this meeting, their first in two years, would not fulfill its true purpose if he was to interrupt it with his ardent physical desire for her. But he had not done so already? And if that was not the purpose of their coming together, then what was? He did not know. He could not say. But there was something… something between them. It was as tangible as the space which stood between them now. But Christine stood and closed that space. He was satisfied by the magnetism which clearly drew her to him; he was pleased that she remembered what he had done for her, and was quick to denounce her foppish husband in his favor. But if that was the case, why didn’t she just leave him already and come back to Erik?

“Is that all I am to you? Your teacher?” he asked. He knew the answer, and that answer was no. Christine had told him that she loved him. He knew that he was everything to her. But he wanted to hear her say it. It was true that Erik was a twisted man, a proud one, a vain one. Was it not fair, though, that he should have something to be vain about? His face was hideous, and his soul was as well. The only thing he had to proud of was his power, something which he clearly held over Christine. She loved him. And he wanted her to tell him, again and again. More than that, he wanted her to show him. Yes… Yes, that would be even better. The thought would have made him smile if his face had not been otherwise occupied, its ruined flesh stiff and cold against Christine’s touch, but the other half of it very much alive, warm and quivering in anticipation.

He did not want to just be her teacher. Or her guardian. It was true that he was her protector, but what was he protecting her from? In truth, Raoul was right in trying to keep Christine protected from Erik. But he had failed, because here Christine was, by Erik’s side, not Raoul’s. Perhaps not for eternity, but just for this moment, it was enough. Erik had not won entirely. No – he wanted Christine to be his, his alone, his wholly and completely. And he would make her come with him. She said she was not afraid of him… perhaps she should have been.

He thought back to her comment that she needed him, ‘now more than ever.’ While she touched his face, and a shiver of pleasure ran through him at the thrill of merely being touched, he ran his hands down her body seductively, wanting to make her moan for him, returning the favor. “How much do you need me?” he demanded, his voice throaty. “Do you need me deep in the core of your body, Christine? Do you need me in your very soul?” He was nearly whispering now, his velvet voice as sensual as the hands he used to caress her perfect body, the one he had touched but never truly, completely, owned, no matter how much he had wanted to. Still touching her, massaging her, he moved slowly back towards his bed until the back of her legs bumped into it. He wanted to ravish her in that moment. He kissed her again, long and slow, never taking his hands off of her. Then he spoke once more, a growl. “Tell me you need me.”

[christine]

Christine looked at the back of Erik. Hoping he wasn't still mad at her. He had came all the from Paris. To search for her. Now this. They haven't been fighting in so long. Two years since the last time they yelled at each other. Christine was so afraid and she didn't know what to do at this point. As he continued to be away from her she bit her bottom lip for a moment and she looked away too. Down to the ground. Afraid of what was going to happen next.

He then questioned her. Christine darted her eyes up towards him for a moment. Nothing came out of her mouth. All she could do was just sit there and remained silent. Still staring at her tutor her protector. "Erik...." she began softly as she was now pressed up against him. Christine had nothing else to say at this point. Two years, two years they had been separated. She felt his face. Of all the years, since she kissed him, she always wondered what it felt like. Christine was like a child once again. Hugging her protector. Christine didn't say anything else except for his name. Her arm was linked with his. Not wanting to let go of him. Raoul had been nothing more than a husband to her, but did he protect her from danger. Yes sometimes, but not really. Erik had always been there for her. Protecting her. Even if he didn't realize it. He was there for her.

Christine felt him guide her to his bed. He sat upon it and she placed her hands gently on his shoulders. Having no idea what to do she said "I need you very much Erik. I don't want you to leave me ever again" she said a moment later. Then she snapped out of it. What was he doing. Christine tried to escape from him and said "Please, Erik. Your hurting me." she said softly. Christine felt him kiss her again, and she returned it. Trying to push him away. "Please...." was all she could say at this point. Christine stared at him. "Erik..." she said once again. Then she finally got released. "Im sorry. But, I have to go." she said softly. Christine looked at Erik once more going over to her table she once sat at and grabbed her purse. "Please.....I'll be back tomorrow night to rehearse the song" she said softly. Then left the apartment. Before she left. she rested her back her upon the door outside then started walking again.

[phantom]

Erik shivered when Christine returned his kiss. Her answer did not satisfy him. It was clear she did not entirely understand his meaning. That was fine. He would make things very clear for her, soon. And she would understand everything. She would see him, she would understand what life was like… she would know what true love felt like for the first time. What it was like to be loved physically by him. She was sure to have fantasized about it, right? The way he fantasized about her? It was pretty obvious, from the way she kissed him; from the way she let him lead her to the bed without protesting. This was it. This was finally going to be their moment. He felt his breath quicken, his pulse begin to race… the sleeping bud burst into bloom… Indeed, the flames were at LAST going to consume them… Given that he was thinking all of this, and anticipating what he was sure of what was about to happen between them, he was rather shocked by her abrupt break-off. He was hurting her? …but, how? What was she doing? Was she… was she leaving?

He stood there, stunned, unsure what, exactly, she was doing. Then she was gone. And, that easily, she was out of his grasp again. He should have grabbed her. He could have taken her by force. But instead he had only stood there dumbly, shocked by her resistance, frozen, unable to do anything except stand there stupidly and watch her as she walked away. When she was gone, the realization hit him: she was gone. She had left him, again. This time, she had promised him that she would see him again. But he was still not satisfied. How did he know that he could believe her? How could he trust her now? “Damn you!” he screamed, his voice echoing throughout the apartment. He slammed his fist into the door. He rushed through the apartment, cape billowing behind him, scattering the rose petals with a sweeping arm in his growing fury. “Damn you! Damn you!” he screamed, again and again and again, his normally velvet voice wrought and horrible in its anger. His love for her was a dangerous one, giving way to lust, an unstoppable desire to possess her fully and make her his. He would see her again, he knew - she had said so. And this time, she was not going to escape without giving him what he wanted. What he had waited so long for.

FINISHED!