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A Moth Into A Butterfly	By : TaimaMarie Category: Individual Celebrities > Criss Angel Views: 3069 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know or own Criss Angel. This is a work of fiction. I make no money off it.

Chapter List
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AN: Here's a funny story illustrating how dumb I've gotten in college. I was standing behind one of my friends, playing with his hair, or scratching his back or something. He said something I didn't like, so I clapped my hands over his ears and said; "Stop talking!" We all stopped for a minute before we burst into laughter. "Why did you cover my ears?!?" he laughed. Yeah. I r in cullege!

“What?” she breathed after what felt like endless moments. “What could you possibly have to say that's important?”

“I just---,” he swallowed. “I just need to say that I was wrong. I was wrong to call her, I was wrong to not tell you that I had been married.”

“Do you even understand why you were wrong?”

“Because it hurt you?”

“Because it smashed my trust in you, Criss. If you have things in your past that you don't want to tell me, I guess I can respect that. I don't have to like it, but I can respect it. There are things about me that I'm never going to tell you, because you don't need to know.” Criss nodded, his head rubbing against the skin of her face.
“But when the things from your past come and—and find me. Speak to me. When it's being rubbed in my face that there are things I don't know about you... It just hurts. It hurts so bad. It hurts because I can't trust you, and I'm about to have your child.”

“I know,” his voice was thick. He pulled Marilyn a little bit closer. She rolled over and looked at him.

“I want to trust you. But you make it so hard. I feel like I'm walking on eggshells. I feel like I don't know from one day to the next if you're going to turn and walk away from me. I feel like I don't know if you're going to change your mind about wanting a baby. And it kills me. I hate it.”

“What do you want me to say?” it held no anger, no resentment. He was genuinely curious. What did she want him to say? What did she need to hear from him?

“I really want you to love me, Criss. I know that's not going to happen. I know it's a lot to ask of you. It's just that in the past couple months, my whole world has been turned upside down. I came here, I met you, I got pregnant. I'm about to be somebody's mother. And I wanted to do all these things, I just wanted to do them knowing that somebody loved me.”

“I do love you, Marilyn.”

“No, you don't. If you loved me, you wouldn't do things like this to me.” she reached out and let her fingers run down his face. “And you know that you don't really love me the way I need to be loved. I can't really expect you to. It's too soon. So don't say that you do, because I can't stand to have you lie to me anymore.”

“You're the one that I want.”

“I can't be sure of that. And neither can you.” her words hurt, because he knew they were true. Criss felt the hot tears stinging his eyes as he drew her closer.

“Can you give me the chance to figure out if—if you are the one I want?” he buried his face in her hair, thicker and shiny now than the night he had met her. That was one of the perks of being pregnant, she said.

“Criss, I don't have a choice.” she laughed with just a hint of bitterness in it.

“What does that mean?”

“That means that even if I wanted to toss you away from me, even if I never wanted to set eyes on your face again, I couldn't tell you that. I wouldn't do that to you. Because you're the father of my child, and you always will be. I love you for that. Just like you love me because I'm the mother of your baby.”

Criss unwound his arms from around her waist. He sat up and looked at her, her eyes red and swollen, her lips trembling. The weight of her words, the sheer truth that rang in them pierced him down to his soul. He put his hands to her stomach, bowed his head and pressed his lips there.

It was shocking, he thought. In just this short amount of time, her stomach had swollen, the skin there had grown a little more taut. There was a life growing inside of her. A life that they had created, or a life that had found them. There were days when he felt one way, days when he felt another way.

Criss kissed her stomach, hoping that the child inside of her was aware of it. Hoping the life inside of her could feel how much he was already in love with the baby. He let his head rest gently on her as she carded her figners through his hair.

“I'm going to make it up to you, Marilyn. I promise.”

“I'll be waiting for that.”

**

Criss didn't leave her the whole day. They went downstairs a few times, to use the rest room, for him to order her a pizza. When the sun finally went down, the illusionist brought up a wet wash cloth and wiped Marilyn's face clean. He helped her into her nightgown, just a tiiiny bit tight in the waist and laid her down on the narrow bed. He laid down next to her, kicking his boots off.

She fell asleep facing him. The moonlight came in through the small, round, high windows. Criss looked across the room through one, thinking to himself.

JoAnn had been thrilled to hear from him. Had babbled on and on and about how much she missed him, what a mistake she made when she filed the divorce papers. Had said she loved him.

But she didn't love him. If she had, she would have found a better way to work through their problems than just thrusting those documents under his nose with an ink pen. Marilyn stirred next to him on the bed, and he stroked her back idly, soothing her back to sleep.

Criss loved Marilyn. Not enough to marry her, not just yet. He loved her, and so he had come back to her. He loved her, and so he wanted to work through everything that was happening with her. He wanted to make this work.

“Criss?” she mumbled, barely awake. He looked down at her, her hair tangled on the pillow, her lips swollen, her eyes not quite open.

“What, Marilyn?”

“Christopher,” she smiled and pulled closer to him. Perhaps she was dreaming, because in an instant she was back asleep. Criss chuckled and nestled deeper into the tiny bed.

She really needed a wider bed, he thought. She needed to get the rest of the attic cleared out. She needed to get the baby's half set up and painted. There was so much to be done, and he could feel that time was quickly slipping away from them. Did she even have furniture yet? It was tempting to wake her up and ask her.

“Marilyn?” he whispered it, and she stirred again, her eyes cracking open. She rolled over, pressing her back against his chest, his arm draping around her waist. She seemed to settle back down. There was no waking her unless she really wanted to be awake. He should have known that.
“Marilyn.” he smiled.

He closed his eyes and let sleep take him away.
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A Moth Into A Butterfly