Too Dark to Even Try (Beneath a Moonless Sky fanfic)

The Ghost's Affair

  Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or LND.

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WARNING: Although I tried to make it as clean as possible, this chapter is the account of what happened the night of the affair.

"Angel," She whispered.

His face contorted yet again into disbelief.

"What are you doing here?" His words dry and protected.

Christine took a deep breath, suddenly terrified.

He did not love her.

"I-I had to come," she whispered. "I fallowed you..."

"You should not have come," he cut in, stiffly. Then, his eyes poured the hurt and betrayal Christine felt.

"Why did you? Come to finish the job?" Her Angel bared his teeth. "Did you wish to see the wretch I am without my music?" He did not yell, but the deathly tone in his whisper made it worse than if he had been.

Christine shook with fright.

"Where is your precious little lover? I see you wear his ring, yet you come alone! Why must you delight in torturing me?"

Christine whimpered.

"I belong to you!" She cried, tears pouring down her cheeks.

Christine's vision became blurred, and she felt faint.

The cold had gotten to her now, and she collapsed on to his floor.

Her Angel gasped and rushed to her side, taking her into his arms.

"I belong to you..." she murmured against his warm throat.

He did not answer, and set her by a small fireplace Christine had not notice before.

It gave off little heat, but it helped Christine enough for her to stop shaking.

Her Angel was no longer holding her, and Christine whimpered again, this time for the loss of him.

"Angel..." She pleaded softly.

Her Angel shook his head sadly.

"No Christine," his voice was laced with regret and pain. "You belong to your angel, yes, but I am not your angel. No," he sighed, such a normal, human thing to do, it made Christine want to laugh. "No, I am just a man. Your kiss turned me into a man, no more..." He whispered as he met her gaze. "And yet no less."

Where was the murder? The phantom? Who was this man standing before her? Something in his countenance has changed. In fact, he seemed so altered that Christine feared she would not have known him again. 

"What is your name?" She asked gently. She felt foolish for not know it, or knowing if he had a name at all.

"Erik. Erik Destler..." He told her.

Erik.

Christine giggled.

"It suits you," she decided. "Erik," Christine tested his name on her lips and liked the way her tongue clicked as she said it.

Erik closed his eyes and his lips parted ever so slightly.

Christine studied him. He was still the Angel she knew, but Erik was right. Angels were untouchable, holy creatures. Men were tangible, extremely so.

Erik was a man. 

And she, a woman.

"Sing for me," she ordered.