Variations of Erik: LErik!

Chapter 2! I hope everyone is enjoying their anniversary of the Leroux novel so far. It lasts until the 10th of January, so until then you have a most awesome excuse for obsessing over Phantom!
The Phantom of the Opera and all of it's very awesome chars belong to Gaston Leroux. I make no profit from this, but I enjoy it anyway. :)

A little whackage with the OOC stick had to happen to make this all work out, I'm afraid. But, I promise, they were only light taps.

When Christine called from the next room that she had breakfast laid out for them Erik tried to raise himself from the tub. It took him two tries to raise his body from the water and he was annoyed at his own lack of strength. He heard a gentle rap on the door. "Erik...?"
"Yes, yes. It will take me a moment!" He spoke rather more sharply than he had intended in his annoyance with himself. As soon as the words were out he winced inwardly. Yes, very good, Christine is only trying to show you a kindness and you snap at her like a rabid dog! He cursed his temper under his breath and finally succeeded in fully extricating himself from the bath.
The voice from the other side of the door sounded hurt when it responded. "I am sorry. I was only concerned that you might have...I'm sorry!"
Erik sighed and steadied himself against the marble counter as he dried himself. "No, it is I who should be sorry. I should not have used such a harsh tone with you. I am merely frustrated with myself."
"Are you having troubles?" Chrsitine pressed against the door, afraid he had fallen or hurt himself. The man was half dead, she had seen that last night. He could barely stand on his own without swaying! But there was very little she could do to assist him bathing. She blushed at the mere thought of such inpropriety.
He sat the towel aside and slid himself into a full length robe. "Nothing I cannot handle. As I said, it will simply take a moment, my dear." Once he had fastened the robe and replaced his mask he shuffled to the door and Christine nearly fell into him when he opened it. She caught herself against the doorframe and he wasn't sure if he was relieved by that or disappointed. Obviously if she had knocked into him he would have been unable to support both her and himself, but the thought of her sprawled atop him was a rather pleasant one. He shook himself mentally and focused on behaving in a manner becomming a gentleman.
Christine looked quite embarrassed at the situation, she blushed even deeper when she realized that he must only have been wearing the robe.
"I'm sorry, my dear. I thought this would be quicker and I would not wish for whatever you have prepared to grow cold while you waited for me to attempt full dress." He regarded her cautiously, appraising her reaction carefully. He had no desire to upset her, for as much as he had protested her return the previous evening he did not wish her to go. He loved her with every fibre of his being, and he knew that the next time she walked from his door never to return would be the moment of his last breath.
Moving from the doorframe Christine nodded. He was ill, she must remember that. Mama Valerius was old and frail enough that she was rarely dressed in more than her night shift. She simply had to remind herself that Erik was frail right now, too. It was no different than Mama confined to her bed. "Of course, Erik. I understand."
She walked with him to the kitchen and helped him settle into a chair. He favoured her with a smile that he knew she could not see through the mask, but hoped that somehow she would know was there. The touch of her hand on his arm was so foreign and pleasant. He wondered if she realized just how wonderful such a small gesture felt to him.
Christine took her seat across from him and poured each of them a cup of hot tea from a kettle. He poked at the omlette she had prepared dubiously and wished she would not stare at him so. He had never been overly fond of eating in anyone's company. By and large he was not overly entralled with food as a whole. It was not unusual for him to forget several meals in a row because he had become absorbed with some project or another that was far more fascinating than mere sustanence.
"Do you not care for eggs?" Christine asked, nibbling at her own plate. "I wasn't sure what your tastes were. Your kitchen was so empty, there was very little for me to take a cue from."
Erik fussed with the food a bit more. "I'm simply not used to eating with company." He gestured towards the mask, which covered all of his face, including over his mouth. "It is difficult for me."
Christine looked down at her plate, ashamed. She could still vividly recall the first time she had seen his face and knew that he was still reluctant to go unmasked before her. Truthfully, she was not entirely accustomed to the sight of it, but she had learned to contain any unpleasant reactions to it. "It's all right. It will not bother me, Erik." Still he hesitated. "Please eat. For me." She entreated with a soft pout.
Erik heaved a sigh. "For you, my dear Christine, Erik would do anything." He slowly unfastened his mask and set it on the table, taking a bite of the food she had made for him and not tasting it at all. He raised a hand to cover his poor, twisted excuse for a mouth as he chewed, realizing that it would be unpleasant for her to witness. Trying to eat quickly, he glared off into space, refusing to look at her while he ate. The food felt rich and heavy in his stomach and it made him nauseus after not eating for so long. His pace did not help matters.
Rising quickly from his seat he stumbled his way back into the bathroom and retched violently. Christine followed, horrified and concerned. "Oh, God! Erik, what is wrong? Please be all right!" She hovered behind him as he knelt on the floor, unsure what to do to help him.
Once he had emptied the contents of his stomach, he rested his head against the gloriously cool side of the marble tub. "I will be fine, Christine. Please, just fetch me a glass of water, would you?"
"Of course." She hurried from the room and he closed his eyes, willing the dreadful feeling of sickness to go away. He knew there was a reason he wasn't overly fond of food.
Christine fetched the water hurriedly. What would she do if he simply died, right there, in front of her? She didn't think she would be able to handle it. Whatever he had done, as much pain as he had caused her emotionally, he didn't deserve to die! He was a very disturbed man, but he was not truly evil. In the end he had not held her to her promise to be his wife. He had let her go. That had to mean something, didn't it?
She returned to the bathroom and found him still slumped against the tub, his breathing shallow and his odd eyes closed. She gently touched his shoulder and he started violently. She jumped and nearly spilled the water glass.
Erik gave a sigh and took the glass from her greatfully. "Forgive me. I am simply not used to...to being touched gently." Christine felt her throat tighten at his soft admission. She recalled how he had cried when she'd allowed him to kiss her on the forehead and the memory brought fresh tears to her own eyes.
"My poor Christine." Erik whispered. She saw him raise his hand as though to stroke her cheek, but he stopped short and let it fall into his lap. "You should not cry for Erik. Erik is not worthy of a single one of your precious tears."
Erik could feel tears of his own welling in his eyes. He hated to see his beloved cry. She was so lovely and kind, she should never need to know tears. He heard her whisper his name and was shocked when she leaned forward and kissed his mangled lips. It was like nothing he had ever felt before in his life.
When he had kissed her forhead, he had been struck by how soft and smooth her skin was, but it was nothing compared with the warmth and sweetness of her lips. They would have put the finest velvet to shame. The taste and the smell of her was almost more than his senses could handle. He tentatively brought his hand up to touch her cheek, and she did not move away or even break the kiss that held him spellbound.
Gently, he soothed away the tears sliding down her soft rosy cheeks with the pad of his thumb. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face against his neck. Closing his eyes he stroked her hair and breathed in her scent. She smelled of rosewater and powder. Soft and soothing to the senses.
After a moment she raised her head and wiped the last of the tears from her eyes, he almost whimpered at the loss of contact. "I think, perhaps you should lay down for a bit." She said quietly. He allowed her to help him up from the floor and back into his room. He noted the way she looked at his coffin with distain, and perhaps a bit of uneasiness.
"Why does it upset you so, Christine? It's only a box. It really is very comfortable. It's dark and private. Do you see, Christine? It allows me to hide, and to rest peacefully. No one looks twice at a corpse in a coffin. Who would want to?"
"Erik, please don't speak that way. As though it were nothing! It isn't normal. It isn't sane." She insisted.
"Nor am I." He responded calmly. "You don't need to be afraid of it."
Christine shook her head and felt like crying again. "Dead people rest in coffins. You're not dead."
He realized that it must have reminded her of seeing her beloved father lowered to his eternal rest. "Things only posess the power we give them, Christine. Give me your hand." Without hesitation she placed her hand in his. He reached toward the black painted pine and she whimpered softly when he placed her fingertips in contact with the wood. "Do you see? It is nothing but a box. Just wood, and nails, and silk lining, and pillows. That's all. It cannot harm you. It cannot affect you in any way. It simply is. That's all. Do you understand, Chrsitine?" He released her hand and watched as her shaking fingers stroked over the side of the coffin.
He could see fresh tears spilling from her blue eyes. She was trembling. He placed his hands gently on her shoulders to still her. "What drives you to sleep in such a horrible thing?"
He gave her a wry smile. "I've slept in one for a very long time, dear. 'Corpses sleep in coffins'. That's what I was told when I was a boy. I travelled with a fair when I was young. I don't like to think about it anymore. The man who ran it would not give me a normal bed to sleep in. I became used to it rather quickly. Now I have difficulty sleeping in a normal bed. It makes me feel exposed."
Chrisitne's eyes widened when he spoke of his youth. She could not imagine anyone being so cruel as to force a young boy to sleep in such a dreadful thing. "Oh, Erik. What kind of life have you led?"
"Not a pleasant one, my dear. But let us not talk about that, hm? It upsets you, I can see that." Reluctantly he released her shoulders, aching to feel her against him again. "I suppose you will go now."
She had been there for a good while now. Mama Valerius would start wondering what had happened to her soon. "Yes. I'll be missed if I don't return soon...." Her heart ached when she saw how he tried to hide his dissapointment that she would leave him, so she added hurriedly. "But I will come back. I promise. Tomorrow. I'll come back. Please, please be well until then."
He nodded slowly. "I will try not to die before you return."

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Sorry, smut next chapter. I promise!