It took one minute for Erik to realize he wasn't dead…or alone.
Erik, otherwise known as the phantom of the opera or the opera ghost, blinked his eyes open. He stayed still for a moment, disoriented and confused. His head hurt terribly and his muscles felt stiff, but he was surprisingly warm, a very different feeling than when he'd passed out. He realized with a start that he was in his emergency cavern, though he had no memory of getting here. All he could remember was Christine's rejection, her blue eyes icy with hatred and anger, and the sudden and heart-wrenching realization that she didn't and probably had never really loved him as he had loved her. He sighed, the motion somehow painful, and turned onto his side. Then promptly froze, horrified.
There, asleep beside him, lay Madame Giry's only daughter. She lay on her side, facing him, her breath puffing out softly onto his face. Her golden hair was splayed out around her head, her chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. Her sleeping face looked peaceful, and quite pretty. He gaped at her, not quite believing what he was seeing. What was she doing here?
As if sensing he was awake, she stirred, chocolate brown eyes fluttering open. She blinked several times, before focusing on his face. She looked the tiniest bit embarrassed as she caught his gaze, but soon her brown eyes were full of concern looking him over, before she smiled shyly. Her whole countenance seemed to light up with her smile, and the sight of it irritated him for no other reason than that he felt miserable and expected everyone else to feel miserable too.
She sat up and wiggled her way out the bed, standing and stretching, then turning her attention back to him, "I'm glad you're up. You look much better."
"What are you doing here?"
The question came out rather accusatory, but he couldn't help it. She had no reason to be here. She seemed unperturbed by his prickly behavior, her worried eyes still watching him with unwavering concentration. He waited for her to bark back, to scream at him, as so many others had. Strangely, unlike other people he'd known, her eyes did not keep flitting back to the deformed side of his exposed face. She looked at him as if he was a normal man...a normal man who'd just come out of hypothermia.
"Well, I carried you here," she explained timidly, "You gave me quite a fright, I thought you were dead."
He scowled, struggling to sit up in bed. Thankfully, she did not try to help him. He regarded her intently, wondering how someone of her size could possibly have carried his heavy dead weight so far. He supposed he should feel grateful to the Giry girl for helping him, but all he could feel was his anguish and heartbreak pushing against him. His head was pounding, and he just wanted solitude to deal with his wounded pride and broken heart.
"It's an honor to finally meet you, monsieur," she curtsied, still smiling widely and further irritating him. He didn't understand her reason for smiling, and it bothered him. Smiles were not usually directed in his direction, especially when his deformed face was in full view. He glared again, uncomfortable with the situation. If it had been any other person, he'd have already frightened them away with threats. But this was Marguerite Giry, the daughter of the woman who had given him a new life. He couldn't possibly threaten the little Giry. Not after she had saved his sorry life too.
She once again caught him off guard as she stepped closer to him. His emerald green eyes met her chocolate brown gaze and he was amazed to see the depth of emotion in her dark eyes. As if she actually CARED about him.
"It seems you got hurt," she said softly, making his stomach do flip flops, "Let me look."
He watched her warily as her petite hands reached out and took his deformed face between them. He inhaled sharply and she lifted her hands away quickly. "Pardon, are my hands too cold?"
He was left speechless, unable to utter a sound. She had willingly touched HIM, the monster, and was worried about his comfort! He shook his head, too bewildered to make a stinging comment, and she relaxed, her hands once again reaching for his face. He watched her intently, waiting for the inevitable look of disgust. Her small hands gently caressed his face, soft and tentative. He couldn't remember the last time someone had willingly touched him with such kindness. The ire that had been building slowly seemed to be leaving him at the simple touch of human contact, a base need that he'd been denied his whole life.
She suddenly winced and he stiffened, expecting her to push him away and scream at him.
"Looks like Christine clawed you up pretty bad when she ripped off your mask," she murmured soothingly, running her nimble fingers over his deformed cheek, "Does it hurt?"
He shook his head in the negative, his throat too tight to speak. Hearing Christine's name made his heart hurt. He wondered where the two were now, but that thought just made his poor heart squeeze painfully, so he focused instead on the blonde girl before him. She was looking at him as if she knew which way his thoughts had turned, her brown eyes full of compassion and pity. His irritation flared again at seeing the second emotion. He didn't need her pity. He didn't need anyone's pity...or anyone for that matter. If he couldn't be with Christine, then he would be forever alone.
"Listen well, little Giry. I appreciate your efforts but you are no longer needed. Leave me now," he knew his tone was cold but he didn't want anyone to see his misery, to see the shell that he would surely become without his precious angel of music. He needed time. Time to let the wounds scab over, and scar. He needed his solitude, even though it was the last thing he wanted. He wanted a warm caress and soft words of love. But he would get neither from the one his heart longed for.
"I'll do no such thing. Whether you like it or not, Monsieur Phantom, you are recuperating and you need help," she instantly replied, not missing a beat. He growled softly, his anger kindled. He knew the girl was stubborn from the times he had watched over her in an effort to repay his old friend, Madame Giry. At the time, he'd found it amusing…Now, not so much.
"It would be in your best interest to leave now, Little Giry," he ground out between clenched teeth, knowing the threat sounded weak even to his own ears. He knew she was right, he was too weak to even move from his position on the bed. But he'd been in much worse shape when traveling with the gypsies, and he'd survived alone just fine. It would be annoying, but he had no doubt he could do it. Besides the little Giry had to be returned to her mother and her world of light. Christine had made it quite clear that no sane human person could abide in this darkness. His perpetual night was his and his alone, the place for monsters and nightmares.
"Well, it would be in your best interest if I stayed, so staying I am," her tone was just as scathing as his had been, "Now, rest."
Erik felt a blinding rage at her continued stubbornness and clenched his fists, "LEAVE NOW!"
But she didn't look at all fazed by his abrupt fit of anger. She just raised a delicate eyebrow, hands on her hips, "I'm not leaving. You can yell at me all you want but I'm staying here. Whether you like it or not."
"If you don't leave," he growled menacingly, though with his vision going blurry, it was getting harder to concentrate, "I'll force you to leave."
"You don't even have enough strength to pull yourself out of bed," she stated matter-of-factly, "I don't think you'll be able to force me out. Besides, I'm stronger than I look. I carried you here, remember?"
Arguing with her was only making him more dizzy. His world spun once again and his anger only made it worse. His body seemed to be falling backwards and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He struggled against it, fighting to stay conscious long enough to send her back but it was a losing battle. He cursed the stubborn Giry women and their stupid sense of compassion. Even now, the darkness was pressing against him, inviting and familiar.
"Damn you, woman," he cursed, blinking his eyes in a worthless effort to stay awake . The only response he got from her was a blinding smile before his world turned black once again.