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A Moth Into A Butterfly	By : TaimaMarie Category: Individual Celebrities > Criss Angel Views: 3070 -:- 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: Ero, I hope you like this! The song here is Stand My Ground by Within Temptation, a band I HIGHLY recommend. I really feel it describes the way that Marilyn is feeling.

Criss lifted up Hammie and settled him into his lap. He’d just gotten a new Houdini biography. He was sure there wouldn’t be anything in it that he didn’t already know, but he couldn’t wait to read it. And there was nothing better than having a kitty on your lap while reading.

“Christopher Nicholas Sarantakos,” he cringed instantly. He only got that name when he was in trouble.

“Yes?” he asked squeakily. He looked over his shoulder and noticed both his big brother’s standing there. “What? What did I do?” it was just like being younger when he broke one of his mother’s vases or got into his dad’s tool chest without permission.

“We just got back from Mom’s house.” Costa crossed his arms over his chest.

“Look, I know she and I are a bit mad at each other, but I was going to talk to her tomorrow---.”

“There’s a girl there. Marilyn.” JD cut him off.

“I know there’s a girl, that’s what---did you just say her name was Marilyn?” he did a double take.

“Marilyn Grace. And when did you change your name to Nicholas?” JD demanded.

“Look, I couldn’t tell her who I---oh my God! Marilyn’s PREGNANT?” Criss’ jaw dropped.

“Yeah. What the hell were you thinking?” Costa looked ready to cuff him in the back of the head.

“Well it’s not my baby.” Criss shook his head. “It couldn’t be my baby.”

“That’s not the way she tells it.” JD said.

“You’re going to believe some strange pregnant girl over your own brother?” Criss felt his face turning red. Costa opened his mouth, but JD held up his hand.

“Look, all we’re saying is that you need to go and talk to her. If it’s your baby, you need to take responsibility. If it isn’t your baby, then you need to get this cleared up. Okay? That’s all we’re trying to say. And Mom misses you already.” He added.

“I know, I miss her too.” Criss leaned his head back on the back of the couch and closed his eyes.

Suddenly, he felt too much too tired to read.

**

Criss got to his mother’s house bright and early. Dimitra was flipping some pancakes on the stove.

“Hi Mom!” he said brightly, holding out a bunch of daisies he’d bought for her. She accepted them and presented her cheek stiffly for a kiss. Feeling a little ashamed of himself, Criss kissed his mother.

“I wish you’d trust my judgment, Christopher.” She said. He sighed as he sat down.

“I do Mom; I just don’t want to see you get hurt. Where’s the girl?” he asked. His mother pointed to the bathroom, where Criss could hear the retching sounds. He made a face.
“Well, that’s delicious first thing in the morning.”

“Imagine how she must feel.” Dimitra gave him an icy look. What was it with mother’s being able to do that to you?

“How come you’re making food then?”

“She still has to try and eat something. It’s not good for the baby not to.”

Marilyn stepped out of the bathroom then. She didn’t look nearly as glamorous as Criss remembered her. For one, she was wearing sweat pants and a huge t-shirt. Her hair hung limply around her face, and she looked a little bit green still. Her socks didn’t match, and there were huge dark marks under her eyes.

She looked a mess.

But underneath, there was a glow. In her eyes, there glimmered a secret happiness. She put her hands to her still flat belly and dragged herself to the kitchen table. She didn’t seem to take any notice of Criss. Dimitra poured her a glass of ginger ale.

“Here, sweetie. This will help settled your stomach.” She gave the older woman a grateful smile and sipped. After a few seconds, she looked across the table.

“N-Nicholas?” she stammered.

“Marilyn, what are you doing here?” he asked.

“I could ask you the same thing!” she put down her glass.

“I’m sorry; do you two know each other?” Dimitra looked supremely confused.

“You could say that.” Criss said warily. Marilyn put her hands to her stomach.

“How do you know him?” she asked Dimitra.

“He’s my son.” She said, putting her hand on his shoulder.

“Oh God!” Marilyn moaned and hurried to the bathroom again. Criss winced to hear her being sick again. Dimitra eyed her son.

“Christopher, what’s going on?”

“It’s between her and I, Mom.”

“Anything that gets her so upset isn’t good for her. You know that.” Dimitra shook her finger and went back to making breakfast. “Now, I’ll let you two talk alone in the living room, but I sit here the whole time. Do I make that clear?”

“Perfectly.” Criss mumbled.

***

After breakfast, Criss and Marilyn sat in the living room. She sat on the couch, still in her messy clothes, and Criss sat in the chair. Neither one of them spoke for a few seconds.

“You told my brother’s it was my baby.”

“Because it is, Nicholas.” She swallowed. “It’s your baby. You’re the only person I’ve slept with for six months. And I’m sorry, but I didn’t see any angel come down to tell me that I was having Jesus 2.0.”

“It isn’t my baby. You’re telling lies, Marilyn.”

“Nicholas, do not sit here and call me a liar! You don’t even know me!” her cheeks were turning pink. He knew she was getting mad.

“Listen.” He stood up and went to the window. He looked out it, his back to her. “My name isn’t Nicholas. Its Criss, like my mom called me. I’m Criss Angel.”

“That magician? I’ve have Criss Angel the magician’s baby?” Marilyn’s jaw dropped.

“No, you’re not having my baby. That isn’t my baby!” Criss sighed. “If you went home with me, who else have you gone home with?”

“Oh, so now I’m the dishonest one here?” Marilyn stood up. “I don’t want to talk to you right now. I understand that you’re surprised, but don’t sit here and make this to be my fault. It takes two people to make a baby. Remember that, Criss Angel!” Marilyn ran up the stairs to the attic.

“Christopher?” his mother stepped out of the kitchen. “I think you should leave for now. I’ll call you later.”

With a bitter taste in his mouth, Criss went back to his car. He’d never been asked to leave his mother’s house before.
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