"Gustave, could you leave the room for just a little while. I am sure Fleck would be more than willing to show you around some intriguing section of Phantasma. The acrobats are no doubt warming up for tomorrow and you could watch them." Erik said as he examined Christine's wound. He needed to put to use his limited medical skills and he didn't want his son standing by to listen to any cries of pain or muttered curses from either of them.
"Mr.Y- "Gustave stopped himself, "Father, will Mother be alright?"
"Say a prayer as you go to find Fleck." Erik said quietly, shooing him away.
"Gustave, dear, listen to your father." Christine added, her voice was as weak as the loose grip she had on Erik's forearm. Her eyes were desperate as she stared up at him. She didn't want to die. As distant as she had kept herself, she had denied herself the desire to take Erik into her arms and kiss him. They had come so close to it, but she didn't find the comfort of his lips again until she lay bleeding to death.
"If you promise me you'll be alright." Gustave stepped towards the bed, his eyes were wide and scared. "You have to be alright, Mother."
Christine gave a strained laugh, trying to shield the pain from showing on her face. "When this is all over with, the three of us can take a trip to the beach and you can learn to swim."
"Yes. I'll teach you how to swim." Erik added in, trying to speed Gustave along. He placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeezing. "She will be alright."
"I'll see you soon," Gustave said as he stepped away from the bed, he was afraid that he could lose his mother like he had already almost lost her. "I love you mother."
"Run along Gustave." Christine's voice trembled as she watched her son leaving, completely ignorant that he could return to a world without a mother. Or he was as clever as she was and Erik was, and Gustave had learned how to cleverly conceal his own emotions beneath a facade of trust and belief.
"Now, let me see if I can find the bullet." Erik said after a long moment of just staring down at the beautiful brunette on his bed. He wished she could be lying there under different circumstances. Perhaps if they hadn't deceived themselves and each other towards what they felt – they wouldn't be in this situation. Erik felt his heart swell with pride of the fact that he had won her, whether wounded or not. She was his fair and square.
"Erik, if I die-"
"You won't die."
"But I coul-"
"But nothing, you will live." Erik pressed, as he reached into his pocket to find his knife. Drawing the blade he glanced between Christine and the silver metal. "I need you to know that I do not mean to hurt you."
"Nothing you can do is hurt me as bad as you did ten years ago." Christine replied, closing her eyes in preparation for him as he pried the fabric away from the bullet wound.
"I was ashamed for what I was." Erik hissed, cringing as he heard her cry of pain.
"I chose you and you turned me away, over and over again. I choose you now." Christine grabbed his hand, closing her eyes and trying to steady her rapid breathing. "Please, there is only you and Gustave now."
"If I could change what happened." Erik sighed, letting his hand cup her cheek. There were so many things unsaid between them. They couldn't deny what they shared. The connection that had been there no matter where they had been.
"It has happened for a reason." Christine gasped as she moved in just the wrong way. "Please, let's get this over with."
Erik took a deep breath, examining the wound one more time before digging into the wound with the blade of the knife. He tried to move as quickly as possible as he searched for the bullet. The blade met the bullet, giving him just the right leverage to pry it from her stomach. He had tried to ignore her cries of pain, the tears racing down her cheeks, and her white knuckles as she balled her fists into the sheets.
"It is out." Erik spoke calmly as he turned away to find something he could use as bandaging. He wasn't used to injuries and makeshift surgeries. The only thing clean and white that he could find was one of his shirts, which he tore into strips without a second thought.
"Christine," Erik shook her hand when she didn't respond. "Christine." She was laying lip against the bed, her hand flopped over the side of the bed. "Christine, please. No." Frantically he checked her pulse, feeling the warm thumping of the vein beneath her ivory skin.
She had not died. She was merely passed out from the pain. He remembered the first time Christine had passed out in his presence. She fell into his arms after seeing the wedding gown and the mannequin of herself. That had been a happy place in time.
Erik gently placed the torn pieces of bandage over her wound, applying pressure as he wrapped a strip around her petite waist. Even in an unconscious state he didn't want to cause her any pain. He had caused her enough pain in her life.
"I am sorry Christine. Apologizing for the first time in my miserable life. You are the world to me. You are the music that makes up my lifeblood. How it is that I left you that night, left you and our son, left the life we could have known, I will never understand. Some things in life are never meant to be known by us."
Erik knelt beside the bed, holding her hand and pressing his lips against the cool skin. She would live, he knew she would.
A/N: I apologize for this being a little shorter. But I swear to goodness I thought LND Erik would be easy to write but apparently I right psychotic Paris Erik significantly easier. _
