Strong Enough Part 4

As soon as the word was out of his mouth, Erik regretted it. Their swift footfalls crunched loudly on the graveled path as they raced through the cemetery. He could only hope the sound echoing amongst the tombstones would confuse the Vicomte as to their exact location.

The chapel loomed before them in the darkness, faint light glowing through the windows and the cracks around the door. Erik tugged the door open slightly, letting Christine slip inside. He followed, closing the door behind them. To his dismay, there was no lock, but seizing a banner that stood upon a pole to the side of the double doors, he thrust the pole through the handles, effectively barring entrance.

He turned his attention back to Christine, who was striding quickly up the center aisle of the church toward a squat, white-haired man in a cassock. "Sanctuary!" she cried out. "Please, Father, you must grant us sanctuary!"

Erik moved to join her, his gaze taking in the white lilies decorating the room, and the plain coffin resting across two trestles in front of the altar. They had interrupted preparations for a funeral, how appropriate.

The old priest's eyes widened as he caught sight of Erik's face, but he did not turn tail and run, most likely because Christine was hanging onto his arm in a death grip. "Father, you must hide us, please!" She looked back at Erik, stretching her hand out to him. He took it, moving hesitantly to stand beside her, unsure of what, if anything he should say.

It appeared as though Christine had things well in hand. "You must help us. They will kill him if they find us!"

The priest turned his attention back to Christine. "Are you running from the police, my dear?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "My ex-fiancé. He cannot accept that Erik is whom I truly love. He will kill him, Father, I know it!" She let go of the priest to wrap both arms around Erik's waist. "Please, aid us."

The old man peered up at Erik through his spectacles, his lips pursed. He opened his mouth to speak just as a loud noise came from the rear of the chapel. Shouts could be heard over the pounding of fists against the blocked doors.

"Please, Father," Erik said, his voice raw and hoarse with tension.

The priest nodded. "Yes, yes, I will aid you, children. Quickly, this way. There is somewhere you can hide."

Christine's arms tightened around Erik, and he saw the fear in her eyes as she looked up at him. "It will be all right," he whispered to her. "We will be all right. Trust in Him, that was what you said."

Nodding, she turned to follow the priest, but Erik couldn't help but feel a knot of dread forming in the pit of his stomach.

His apprehension increased when the priest showed them the hiding place.

Christine trembled beside him. "Isn't there anywhere else?" she asked in a quavering whisper.

Erik could see the wisdom of it, even if he didn't like it. "I think this is the only place the Vicomte would not dare to look." He climbed into the small space first, and extended his hand to Christine. She lay down nearly on top of him, pressing her face into the curve of his neck. "It will be all right, my love," he reassured her as the priest sealed their refuge, cloaking them in darkness.

Even after living in the catacombs, the smell of death and moldering flesh so close nearly made him ill. Taking a cue from Christine, he buried his face in her hair, letting her scent fill his lungs. She shivered, and he rubbed her back in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. Her arm slipped around his waist and she sighed as her body relaxed slightly. Erik pressed his lips to her forehead then settled in to wait.

When he unbarred the chapel doors, the old priest was nearly bowled over by a young man. His face was flushed and he wore a groom's morning suit. Quite incongruously, he clutched a pistol in his hand. The man dashed up the center aisle of the church looking anxiously around. "Christine! Christine, where are you?"

A second man entered the church. He was older than the first man, but his hair color and facial features marked him as clearly related to the other one. The new arrival strode over to Father Reinard, his demeanor calm in comparison to the younger man, who was now searching the confessional booth.

"What is the meaning of this?" the priest demanded.

The older man pulled out a watch and checked the time. "You must excuse my brother, Father. He thought he saw his fiancée run in here."

Since the man didn't directly ask him if he had seen the young woman, the priest did not offer any information, he simply observed the young man as he dashed about the chapel. When he went to open the coffin at the front of the church, however, he had to draw the line.

"Have you gone mad, sir? Stop this blasphemy! I will not have you disturbing the dead!"

Christine tucked her face closer against Erik's neck, the scratch of his beard stubble giving a much needed sense of reality to their cramped, pitch black surroundings. No sound reached them from the chapel, and she prayed that Raoul had given up the hunt for them and left.

Erik's breathing was loud in her ear, his heart thudding steadily under the palm of her hand. A wry smile tugged at her lips as she recalled just how often she had wished to be this close to her angel over the past weeks without him. Even now, in circumstances far less than ideal, she had no regrets. Touching her lips to the hollow of his throat, she felt him tremble.

"Christine..." he whispered, "oh, Christine, what you do to me..." He nuzzled her hair, his fingers finding and stroking the curve of her cheek.

"Erik," she began but felt him go deathly still, and she swallowed the rest of her words.

Faint voices reached her ears and a shudder went through her. What seemed an eternity later, footsteps sounded outside their hiding place as Erik's arms tightened around her. A hideous creaking noise started and Christine prayed fervently as light suddenly illuminated their sanctuary.

The wild-eyed man stuffed the pistol in his pocket and fumbled with the catches on the coffin lid. "Dead, ha! A coffin is a fitting hiding place for that creature's corpse!"

Father Reinard grabbed at the man's arm, but was flung back, stumbling to his knees on the stone floor.

"Raoul!" The older brother barked. "Stop this nonsense! She is long gone, and once you are in your right mind, you will realize her leaving you was a gift."

"No, no, " the young man protested weakly, still clutching the coffin's lid. The priest could see tears sparkling in his eyes as he pleaded with his brother. "She's here, she has to be. He took her and I'll kill him. I'll kill that ugly ghost! I'll-" His voice cut off as he flung open the coffin.

Christine grasped the hand that was extended to her and climbed out of the hiding place. Once she was settled firmly on the ground, the priest turned to offer help to Erik, but he already stood next to the chapel's ossuary vault that had been their haven. "Raoul, is he gone?" Christine asked anxiously, blinking in the light of the lantern the priest held.

"He and his brother have gone, yes." He shook his head. "He is not well, mademoiselle. He opened the coffin and found the body of a young woman who was killed yesterday in a carriage accident. She had brown hair much like yours, and it unnerved him completely. He fairly swooned, and I had to help his brother carry him to their carriage. His brother said something about taking him away for a long rest, that the past months have been very trying for the young man."

"They have been trying for all of us, Father," Christine responded, leaning against Erik's side. She tilted her head to look up at him, and Erik felt himself becoming lost in her eyes. "Might we impose upon you once more this night to marry us?"

The priest smiled at them. "Yes, of course, my child. Come with me."

Erik stared at his reflection in the mirror of small washroom the priest has shown himself and Christine as a place to freshen up before the ceremony. The flickering gaslight did nothing to flatter the face of the man staring back at him. His stomach churned. If you can't even bear to look at yourself, how can she possibly manage it for the rest of her life?

He leaned heavily on the cabinet holding the washbasin, a low groan escaping his lips. So engrossed was he in his own doubts, he didn't hear Christine enter the room until she said his name. "Erik? Are you all right?"

Glancing over his shoulder at her, he shook his head. "Why are you doing this, Christine? Why did you choose me, when you could have had the world?"

She didn't answer him right away, picking up a washcloth and dipping it into the water in the basin. Cupping his chin with one hand, she began to scrub gently at his face, washing away days of filth and neglect, the water cool against his flushed skin. The tenderness with which she touched him brought tears to Erik's eyes. "Christine..." he breathed.

Setting the now dirty cloth down, she cradled his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her calm gaze. "Why would I want anyone else, when you are my world? I love you, Erik, always and only you."

He hugged her to him fiercely, blinking away the tears that still threatened to fall. "What have I ever done to deserve you?"

She nuzzled his throat. "You love me, and that is more than enough." Christine lifted her head, her fingers slipping inside the open neck of his shirt. "What's this?" she asked, tugging a sweat-stained ribbon out of his shirt. Her eyes widened as the item threaded on the ribbon sparkled in the lamplight. "You kept it..."

"Of course I kept it. It was my last remembrance of you." He lifted the ribbon over his head and untied the knot, letting the ring, the damnable yet glorious ring, settle in her palm.

Her gaze moved from the diamond ring to his face. He could see the start of tears in her eyes as she began to speak. "I-"

His lips on hers cut off her apology, and in that moment, he decided that he was through with punishing himself for their past. It ended here and now, for both of them

A knock on the washroom door startled them both, Christine stepping back with a small gasp.

"Monsieur, mademoiselle, I am awaiting your presence in the chapel," came the muffled voice of the priest.

"Uh, yes, yes, we'll be right there," Erik replied. Christine glanced in the mirror, quickly wiping her face and plucking any remaining cobwebs from the ossuary from her hair.

Together they entered the chapel and took their place in front of the priest. When he asked for the rings, Erik handed him the ring he had offered Christine once before, and she had returned. The priest looked at Christine. "Do you have a ring to give your husband?"

Nodding, Christine pulled a chain from around her neck. Undoing the clasp, she slid a man's wedding ring free and gave it to the priest. At Erik's questioning gaze, she said, "It was my father's, given to him by the woman he loved. I now give it to the man I love."

The priest blessed the rings, and Erik slipped his ring onto Christine's finger. "With this ring I thee wed; this gold and silver I thee give; with my body I thee worship; and with all my worldly goods I thee endow."

Christine's eyes sparkled as she gazed up at Erik. Taking his hand in hers, she slid her father's ring onto his finger. "With this ring I thee wed; this gold and silver I thee give; with my body I thee worship; and with all my worldly goods I thee endow."

The priest lay his hands over Christine and Erik's. "Heavenly Father, bless these children in holy matrimony, guide them and keep them safe and whole for the rest of their lives." He drew the sign of the cross in the air. "Go in peace and may God's blessing be upon you."

Erik drew Christine close, tilting his head so that his lips met hers in a tender kiss. When they finally drew apart, the priest had quietly disappeared.

"Where to now, my love?" Christine asked, entwining her arm through Erik's. With the other hand she felt in her pocket and produced her purse of coins. "I have perhaps enough for a few nights stay at an inn."

Shaking his head, Erik took the purse from her and dropped it back into her pocket. "Just because in my misery I chose to reside for the last few weeks in the catacombs, doesn't mean I don't have the resources to give you the world. I was a well paid Opera Ghost, if you recall."

"Then we are off on an adventure," Christine replied.

Erik smiled at her. "One to last the rest of our lives."

With that, they strode up the aisle arm and arm through the chapel doors into the velvet night.