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Do I Dream Again?	By : LaurieBaker Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 10050 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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“Erik!” Christine’s voice called out in through the whirling kaleidoscope. “Erik, you must have fainted...”

Sitting up and cursing, the music room spun about crazily as Erik sat up and touched the back of his skull with his fingers. He must have hit his head on the organ bench when he fell. He was unaccustomed to being so vulnerable as to pass out. What in the hell had happened?

“Christine...?” he rasped.

“Get a hold on yourself, Erik!” Christine laughed, kneeling beside him and stroking his cheek. “You are supposed to be the strong one and I believe I am the one who is supposed to be fainting...in my condition...”

As Christine blinked at him with a soft blushing smile, everything came rushing back to him with nauseating speed.

Christine was going to have a baby!

“Christine?” he gasped, rising up from the floor. “Are you quite sure?”

“Well, I cannot even remember when I had my last monthly time...and I do believe I may even be getting a bit fat.”

Erik clenched his fists tightly, trying to hold in the storm of panic lashing throughout his body. Consumed with manic energy, he paced about the music room like a caged tiger. And the thoughts were already scattering about in his mind frantically.

How could he have been such a fool as not to foresee this? Ever since that first time two months ago, they had made love almost every night. Of course, this was bound to happen. It was inevitable. Why had he not planned for such an event? It was maddening! He could orchestrate the downfall of an opera company but he could not plan ahead enough to acquire some “French Letters”? Did he really believe his own legend so much that he thought he was merely an apparition, immune to bearing seed? Or was he simply such a besotted wretch, so overwhelmed with loving his beautiful wife that he had simply lost any ounce of brain that he had possessed? Yes, that was it! Erik, the village idiot!

Erik had no excuse except that he had never been as happy as he had been these last few weeks...so happy that he had not concerned himself with such trivial realities such as babies. He had never thought himself as a person who would enjoy domesticity. Yet his time keeping house with Christine had been heaven. There were no adventures or intrigues to speak of, no dramatic operatic plot, no violence and pain. Just simplicity and peace. When they were not discovering the secrets of each other’s bodies, they would read together by the lake outside or sing at the organ. He had even taken to attempting to cook since Christine had no culinary skills whatsoever. There had been laughter and happiness...and love like he had never dreamed he would know...

Even in his wildest fantasies of Christine, he had only hoped to possess her. He had never thought it possible that she would return his affections so completely. There was something so satisfying about being with another person who he could simply be himself with. He could talk on random subjects at length while Christine would listen to him avidly, taking in all of his ideas as if he were still her beloved teacher. They would discuss opera and literature. And sometimes, they would simply embrace each other, taking comfort in each other’s arms. He had never been so close to another living soul...ever...

And now this intruder of a baby was threatening to steal away his paradise with Christine!

“Erik, please say something...”

“Well,” he began haltingly. “I suppose...that there is no need to panic...”

“Oh, I am so glad you feel that way!” Christine raved, throwing her arms about him with excitement. “I know it is a shock, Erik, but I suppose that it was bound to happen sooner or later. And the more I think on it, the happier I become. Why, all my life I have been alone, ever since my Papa died. I have no real family of my own to speak of. It would be such a comfort to me to know that this little person will be a part of my life for the rest of my days. Just think of it, Erik, neither of us shall ever be lonely again!”

Erik held back a groan of horror at the thought. He would trade loneliness any day of the week over the sort of chaos that was looming before him. The only babies he had ever known were the ones he observed in the gypsy camps. He remembered very little but squalling cries and dirty linens. Even in his own misery of those days, he felt sorry for the parents, constantly lugging about their ungrateful little brats everywhere that they went. And they always looked so tired, never knowing any solitude or peace.

How would he be able to write his opera now? How would he be able to accomplish anything now?

And why was she talking about her loneliness? That was all in the past. She had him, body and soul. Was he not enough for her?

Christine was still babbling away at an excited pace as if she herself were still a little girl.

“And then when she grows up...”

“She?” He responded dumbly. “How do you know it will be a ‘she’?”

“I just know, Erik!” she answered with a grin. “I can feel it! She will be a little girl with laughing eyes!”

Erik shook his head sadly. Christine was living in a dream world of ‘happily ever after’. She never was one to face realism often. That was why she had been so easy to deceive with tales of ghosts and angels. And now she thought that this baby was going to make them a happy family like in one of her storybooks. He hated to have to disillusion her for he always delighted in her smiles. But this was too important. Christine had to be made to see the truth for once...to see reason...

“Perhaps...” he began tentatively.

Christine stopped talking, looking at him with such hope in her eyes. He could not bear it.

“Christine, forgive me,” he pleaded, clutching at her hand. “I hate to upset you, my dear. But I believe you are setting yourself up for an immense disappointment.”

Her face fell at once as she pulled away from him.

“So you do not want this child.” It was not a question falling from her lips but a statement. “I thought when you said...”

“You misinterpreted me, Christine. I meant that we should not panic for it is not too late...to take other options...to prevent a horrible mistake.”

“What do you mean?”

Erik groaned in dismay, falling upon his knees. This was the worst sort of torture! Of course, a sheltered girl like Christine would not understand his meaning.

“Christine, I admit that I have been guilty of deceiving people throughout my life.” He knelt his head down, taking a pose of a sinner at confession. “Yes, I have even been dishonest to you, my love, on several occasions. But I shall not lie to you now. Christine, I cannot bring myself to be happy about this news. Indeed, it is the worst sort of calamity that could ever befall us.”

At first, Christine looked as if he had struck her. Unshed tears hovered at her eyes. But then she quickly recovered herself and laughed.

“We are only talking of a wee little baby, Erik. You make it sound as if I will be giving birth to a devil!”

Erik nearly hissed with agony at her remark, shutting his eyes tight and covering his ears with his hands.

Come...come see the Devil’s child...the Devil’s child...the Devil’s child...

Tortured memories returned. Children chasing a young masked boy, throwing rocks at him. The young boy’s beloved pet dog, murdered through ignorant violence. A mother turning her face away from the boy in shame and anger. And through his adult’s vision, he saw the eyes of the boy turn from innocent hurt into murderous rage.

The sins of the father...

“No!” he cried out, stopping the voice in his head, beating his fists upon the carpeted floor of the music room. “This cannot be, Christine! THIS...MUST...NOT...BE!!!”

“Erik, you are beside yourself!” she cried, trying in vain to comfort him by stroking his shoulders. Yet he shied away from her touch. “Please, you mustn’t upset yourself this way!”

“Christine, think!”

“What?”

“THINK, YOU LITTLE FOOL!!!!”

Christine jumped out of her skin at the ferocity of his tone.

“I am sorry, my dear,” he pleaded, trying to quiet his voice, although he was still gasping for air as he did so. “I hate to bring up such an unpleasant topic, but I have no idea what the nature of my...disfigurement...is. It may have been an accident that my mother had, injuring me in the womb. It may have been purely bad luck. Or it could have possibly been...heredity.”

She gasped at his words as he pulled at her skirts, pleading for her to understand.

“I could not bear to bring a child into this world cursed with a face like mine! I would rather die! I would not wish a face like this on my worst enemy, much less an innocent babe! And if it were a girl...Christine...she might look like you...with my face! An aberration of nature!”

Christine’s eyes filled with sympathetic tears.

“It would not matter, Erik,” she said, reaching for his hand. “The baby would be ours and I would love it, no matter what it looked like. I promise that to you now.”

Erik shook his head in the negative.

“You say that now, child, unknowing of what a grave responsibility motherhood is. A child is maddening under the best of circumstances. I witnessed that for myself during the days of my youth. But to go through the tedium of taking care of a little one who looks like a monster? You would go as mad as my mother, Christine, and I should kill us both before I would allow that to happen.”

“Do you really think I am as shallow as all that?” she sobbed, her voice wracked with pain. “You are wrong about me, Erik! You are so wrong! I would love the baby, Erik...just like I love you!”

How long he had waited to hear her words of love! And now they cut into him like a knife.

“You are only human, my dear,” he shrugged hopelessly. “Granted, you have been a true angel on earth to show love for a poor creature like me. But mercy and compassion has its limits...even for you...”

Erik rose to his feet, pacing about the room despondently. His turbulent emotions had utterly worn him to exhaustion in a matter of minutes.

“Even if you were right about me, Erik...which you are not! But let us say that you were right, I really see no way around the situation. We have made our bed and we must lie in it!”

“Well,” Erik ventured hesitantly. “There are ways. I have read that...” His voice trailed off.

Christine looked at him with dark suspicion.

“You have read what, Erik?”

Erik continued, bracing himself for the resulting storm.

“There are concoctions one could take to...expel such a creature from one’s body?”

At the suggestion, Christine turned as white as a ghost.

“You mustn’t look so afraid, Christine,” he said quickly. “There is very little harm to the mother as I understand it.”

He knew the look on her face. He saw it in those early days when she would gaze upon his face in abject horror. Once more, she gazed at him in wide-eyed terror.

“By ‘expelling such a creature’, you really mean for me to kill our own baby!”

“Oh, Christine...”

“Why mince words, Erik?!” she shouted, enraged. “You are talking about coldly murdering an innocent baby!”

Truly, she was magnificent in her rage. Maternal instinct became her.

“But is it even really a baby yet, Christine?” Erik begged the question.

“Yes!” she cried out, clutching at her stomach with enough melodrama to give Carlotta a run for her money. “Yes, it is! And how dare you suggest such a horrible thing to me! Are you really such a coward that you would rather kill our child than face yourself and your past!?”

If the woman before him were not his beloved Christine, he would have killed her for saying such harsh words to him. As it was, he remained coldly and deadly silent in the face of her fury.

“I warn you, Erik! If my child dies, I shall die too for I will kill myself before I see any harm come to her!”

“Really, Christine, such dramatics are unnecessary...”

“I mean it, Erik! I shall dash my head against the wall and end my life before I shall live the rest of my days with a child’s death on my conscience, blighting my soul!”

Although it was odd for the thought to cross his mind at such a moment, Erik reflected again on how brilliantly Christine would play Cathy in Wuthering Heights. Sometimes, when she was at peace, she would be so quiet and shy that she could have been a little mouse. But now with all of her passion at bay, she truly was a sight to behold! What a waste, he though solemnly, that her talent would be cut short at an end so soon. Because of the little intruder!

“And as for you, haven’t you killed enough people?” she ranted. “Must you spew your dark hatred onto your own child? I have never heard of anything so disgusting!”

The remark reflected more on Christine’s nature than on his, he thought to himself. She was simply too pure of heart and immature to know the fate of unloved children. He knew all about such an existence, having lived it first hand. And he had seen other children in the gypsy camp who suffered in such a way. Bruised and battered children who never knew how to laugh or to smile. That is what came of being unloved.

And Erik knew that he was not capable of the kind of love one needed to raise a child.

When Christine had left him that first time with the Viscount, he had cried out in the night that he loved her. And he was grateful to her that she had taught a soul like him that he was capable of such a feeling. Despite the cutting agony of her rejection, he knew that he too could share that sweet emotion, even if unrequited. But he was not sure that there was enough of a giving nature in his soul for a baby. A baby required selfless love. He did not have that inside. No, his love was of the most selfish nature. That much he knew about himself.

Christine undoubtedly would make a splendid mother. Yet she would not be able to bear the brunt of parenthood alone. He would have nothing of worth to give to either her or the child. And she would grow to resent the burden that she had sworn to love. Thus, one more life doomed to sadness and despair. She could condemn him all she liked for his past sins. Yet he had not been responsible for all of those other murders...not really. But to bring a child in the world...that he would be responsible for. Every tear, every disappointment, every flaw in the child would be his doing for allowing it to make its way into the world. Even as Christine glared at him angrily, he could not bring himself to agree to such a thing. It would be the blackest sin of all to be party to such misery.

“You really are a monster!” she sobbed. “I curse the day I ever heard your damned voice!”

With that, she shut herself away in their bedroom, locking the door behind her.

Christine would have made an excellent murderess, Erik noted, for he felt as bloodied and torn up as a slain corpse at her feet. Slowly, he walked into the library and sat upon the divan. Then he leaned his head into his hands and wept, cursing the fates for what they had wrought upon him.
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Do I Dream Again?