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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.

Chapter List
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As Erik reached for Christine’s hand to help her out of the carriage and onto the cobble-stoned street before their townhouse, he found that he could not release that hand. He could not let her go. And he cursed himself.

The pathetic groveling creature of the catacombs would not make his appearance this night.

Yet she had been so beautiful on that stage. So alive and on fire and magnificent. His Christine. His Cathy. His life.

She must have seen the intense yearning in his eyes for she would not look at him. Rather, she turned her head to the side, hiding her face behind the large hood of her heavy blue cape, shyly turning her eyes away. Yet she would never truly be able to hide from him again. He knew her too well now, all of her vulnerabilities and weaknesses.

Erik had not meant to be forceful and yet the storm inside of him had been restrained for too long. And tonight, he could not release it through pounding away on a musical instrument. He could not free it through scribbled notes on paper. He had written his opera with all of the violence and passion that was inside of him. Yet ven though the curtain had finally risen upon his masterpiece, the turbulence still whirled on relentlessly. This time, he could not transform the wild emotions into Heathcliff and Cathy’s operatic drama. He could only bear this state alone and try to find some way to contain it lest he once more descend into blood shedding madness.

And as he stood so near the object of his desire, he knew that he had lost the battle.

Whirling her about, Erik grasped on to her shoulders with an iron grip, taking a cruel satisfaction in her shocked gasps as he lowered his mouth fiercely upon her own. She was such a delicate flower that he could tear into shreds if he so wished. Her struggles were so easily subdued that she could have been a small babe in his arms. He grew hard, his head spinning with a combination of lust and power. As he plundered her mouth with his tongue, he dreamed of how she looked wearing nothing but her undergarments and corset, her long dark curls flowing loosely down her back. He would bend her to his will. She was his wife. He had every right to have her in his bed.

Christine trembled in his arms, emitting a breathless moan.

“Yes, Christine, yes..you feel it too...”

His mouth wandered from her lips to the curve of her jawbone and along the side of her ear.

“Do not deny me tonight, my beautiful goddess...”

His compliment was rewarded with a vicious slap across the face.

Pulling away from him, Christine adjusted her cape, tears shining in her eyes.

“How dare you accost me out here like a common streetwalker!” she cursed before turning about and entering the townhouse.

Adjusting his mask, Erik let out a defeated sigh of frustration and grief before returning back to the carriage. The horse had to be attended to. There were still the interminable monotonous errands that he had to attend to tonight and every night, opera be damned. He felt like whipping the horse to shreds, even though it was not the poor beast’s fault that his wife was so cruel.

Never had he felt so old and tired and ugly and worthless...

-----------------------------

Damn him, damn him, damn him!

Christine felt as edgy as a nervous cat. She knew that retiring to bed would be foolhardy at this point. There would be no sleeping tonight, just tossing and turning in fury and frustration. And now that the opera had begun, it was imperative that she rest if she were to perform at her usual standard.

Sitting in the parlor, she poured herself a glass of port. Usually, she did not drink. The port belonged to Erik. But perhaps tonight it would help. And she would not run away to her bedroom like a coward! She had spent her whole life running away from Erik...or so it seemed...

No, not tonight, she swore as she took a hearty gulp of the loathsome stuff. With the second swallow, she found the liquid not quite as distasteful.

Foolish of her to put all of her energies into the opera. Even though she loved playing Cathy, the fact of the matter was that it was all make believe. She still had to live with herself once the curtain went down. And with him...

Her hand shook as she held the small snifter glass, not with fear but with intense desire. It was unfair of him to make her want him, knowing that he would never allow any of their children to exist. After all, man and woman are joined together in the union of marriage for the purpose of creating a fruitful union. She had been taught that all of her life. To engage in such with no intention of all to ever have children seemed wrong somehow. Like something that a prostitute would do.

And indeed that was what he wanted from her! He wanted her to be his mistress, his masterpiece, his creation. But he cared nothing about what she wanted. He did not even see her as her own person but just this image that he had created in his own mind.

“I apologize for my ungentlemanly conduct.”

The raspy snarl made her nearly jump out of her skin.

Erik stood in the foyer, bowing to her in a mocking fashion.

“Imagine my impertinent behavior to think that I might be allowed conjugal rights with my own wife!”

Turning away, she took another sip of the drink, hoping that it would give her courage. She could face hundreds of audience members on a stage without one qualm of stage fright. So why did the thought of just sharing her feelings and thoughts with Erik make her so nervous and frightened?

“What of my rights, Erik?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

Although she did not see his face, she could hear the confusion in his voice.

“My rights as a woman. My right to have children.”

There was a tortured sigh.

“Christine, I thought that...”

“Women, after all, do not have that many rights, do they, Erik?” she continued, feeling her head spin a bit from the liquor. “We cannot vote or safely walk the streets at night alone. Fashion dictates that we wear skirts and be hampered by a million frivolous necessities in order to go out on a simple shopping expedition. But women, all women, can have babies. Indeed, most husbands expect their wives to bear them children. And yet you expect me not to have children.”

“Christi.ne...”

“I love my life in the opera, Erik,” she continued. Now that she had started, she would not stop. She dared not stop. “I shall always be indebted to you for helping me become the artist that I had always dreamed that I could be. Perhaps you can live on that alone. I cannot. I shall not be young forever. I will not be able to play the starring romantic lead roles forever. I need something that is mine, Erik. Truly mine. I do not want to look back upon my life and just remember parts that I had played.”

The room was quiet. Deadly so.

What was he thinking? Was he angry? Upset? She dared not look.

“I do not want to live my life without children,” she insisted, feeling as if the world were being lifted off of her shoulders as she made her confession, for better or worse. “I want my own family. I want a home and security. I’ve never known that, Erik. Even with my father, I only remember traveling from one town to another as he played his compositions for anyone who would listen. I’ve never had a home. And now my father is gone. Mamma Valerius shall probably not live much longer either. You are my only family, Erik, don’t you see? You are all that I have. But you are much older than I am and when you die...”

She could not continue, feeling the tears creep upon her.

“You shall be all alone again.”

His soft understanding words caused a sob to wrench from her throat.

“And I shall once more be alone and grieving. For that short amount of time when I thought that I was with child, I thought of how life would change. My thoughts would be with the future and not the past. And when you swore that there could be no children between us...”

She shuddered with the memory, fighting to remain calm.

“I thought that perhaps I should escape you somehow. That I would use this opera to throw myself upon someone’s mercy and escape. But I could not do it. I love you, Erik...”

“Oh, Christine, dear heart, I love you...I love you so much...”

Erik’s arms encircled her suddenly, causing her to drop her glass. His warmth and understanding felt so good that she felt as if she had been released from a terrible prison.

“Forgive my selfishness, my dear,” he acknowledged quietly. “For what do I know about children? What do I know about mothers? I had no mother. Simply a keeper who resented me from the minute I was squeezed out of her womb.”

Christine sighed miserably, knowing that she would never have the words to express the sorrow she felt when she thought of his wretched childhood.

“I do not know if I have it in me to be a loving father, Christine. I do not know how to be a father for I had none. I swear I would not know where to start.”

“That is not true. I know from experience that you are a very patient teacher. And I also know your capacity to love.”

“Yes, but that is love for an adult woman, not a child. I do not know that I am capable of giving all that a child requires. I will not lie to you. I shall probably resent the child for interfering with my life’s work which it is bound to do. There is no room in the music world for babies. How shall I be able to hear my compositions with constant caterwauling?”

“Babies grow up, Erik,” Christine chided.

“True enough, which will present its own set of problems. Add to that my fears that this child may inherit my cursed face or some other dreadful deformity.”

“But we will love the child even so. History shall not repeat itself for we have learned from its example.”

“You are so young, Christine. So optimistic and brave...thinking that you can conquer all of the obstacles of the world...”

“So you haven’t changed your mind?”

There was a long silence. Erik held onto her in such a tight grip that she barely felt she could breathe.

“Christine, before you, I was not a man. I was just a freak of nature. I was not living. I was just existing. And then a bratty little chorus girl stole my heart...”

“I beg your pardon!” Christine interrupted.

“Hush. As I said, a bratty little chorus girl stole my heart. You claim I am a teacher. But you have taught me, Christine, more than you know. I am a proud person and it is not easy for me to say these things. You taught me that I could love. You taught me that I could forgive. You taught me how to sacrifice. Before everything went wrong between us, I had been the happiest creature alive married to you. Do you realize that I have only known happiness with you? What right have I to deny you children, Christine? I have none.”

“Oh, Erik!”

Christine whirled around and hugged him fiercely.

“Children are also a source of happiness, Erik. You shall see. And you need not sacrifice your music, Erik. I shall take care of everything.”

Erik guffawed with laughter.

“I wonder if you shall say such things when the babe is a day old!”

“Oh, I shall!”

“I already foresee three lives filled with chaos and havoc!”

Erik rained kisses upon her cheek.

“So shall we get started with this project tonight?”

“Oh, Erik...” Christine moaned when his tongue traced along the sensitive flesh of her neck. “What of the opera?”

“Enjoy it while it lasts. And then once you are ‘indisposed’, Geraldine shall take over. Come, we have wasted enough time apart. I do not intend to waste any more.”

Later on, after the mad encounter of heated lust that they had both been aching for, Christine glanced outside of the window of their bedroom. She saw snow falling upon the ground.

Funny how brutally cold it seemed outside when she had never felt more safe and protected and warm.

For she was lying in Erik’s embrace...and she was home at last...
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Do I Dream Again?