AN: I managed one more chapter before the weekend! Please review!
Disclaimer: I own nothing and in fact owe school a paper ...
It took a little effort, but Christine and Erik were comfortably settled in the best neural exam facilities in the building. Nadir had kept his word to get them the privacy Erik needed to work, and now Christine was settled in a stool as Erik placed a device to read eye movements before her.
Christine heard the machine as Erik positioned it and startled. She gripped the sides of her stool with both hands, and it caused him to still his hands. He looked up at her.
"This won't hurt you," Erik said quietly. "I promise."
Christine gave a weak smile but nothing else. He settled the machine and sighed.
"It's difficult to know when I'm hurting you … if you don't say anything."
Christine's smile slid off. She looked as fragile as a porcelain doll about to fall off a high shelf, but Erik was fairly sure that wasn't a true image at all.
"And if what I say just hurts you instead?"
It wasn't just him that she was talking about. Erik pulled out a rolling chair and settled himself in front of her, remote for the light-receptivity device in his other hand.
"And I suppose that watching you devour yourself from the inside out rather than talking about what's wrong isn't going to distress someone who l- who cares about you?" Erik glanced away quickly, turning on the light in order to check the measurements and that the test image would land squarely in the t-zone of her face once she looked up.
"I don't like these tests. I don't like being reminded of what I lost. And the –the MRI machine," it all seemed to come out at once, snowballing. "It's like being in a coffin…or in the car again."
Ah. The overturned car. Suddenly he was angry at himself, at how oblivious he'd been to the potential for distress. He swallowed thickly, eyes blinking owlishly as his mind chipped away at the problem.
"I'll be here. I'll distract you." He watched her give a small grin like he was joking. "Do you trust me? Honestly now."
And she didn't pause.
"Yes."
Erik ran over to a nearby computer and popped in a USB. The program came up and he turned up the speakers. A bit of even, soft piano came floating through.
"Just listen, then."
And he took his seat next to her.
"I don't know you, but I want you .. all the more for that."
She heard his voice, this voice that seemed to resonate with words she'd kept inside and never spoke aloud, and the wonder turned her head to him.
"Words fall through me, and always fool me, and I'm can't react …" It seemed she also knew the words he meant to say, looking back at his voice instead of the screen with an earnest expression on her features.
Gently he put two fingers to her chin, drawing her back up to the right position. He did not stop his voice.
"And games that never amount to more than they're meant will play themselves out," Erik said as he clicked the program on.
Christine's head remained in place, the device recording her eye movement or lack thereof at the light stimuli being projected. She kept herself still, but could not keep the song from her lips to join his.
"Take this sinking boat and point it home – we've still got time. Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice – you'll make it now …"
Erik moved on to more tests, more devices, never stopping his song even as he came to the MRI. Christine lay on her back as the machine closed, the imaging technology moving around her head. Erik did not leave her side, and even took her hand.
He looked at her, mouth a hard line.
'You have suffered enough, and warred with yourself – it's time that you won…'
"Let me give you something, while I still can, Christine."
When Mrs. Giry saw Erik return to room 900 with Christine, her mouth was a grim line. Christine looked tired but she wasn't drawn the way she had been whenever she had to sit through exams.
Quickly she pressed forward, taking up the wheelchair handles.
"Christine, Cherie, will you wait outside for just a moment? I'd like to speak to the doctor."
Christine put her hand to the break of her chair and looked up. "He's my doctor, Mrs. Giry, I think I should be present –"
Erik put a hand to her shoulder, stopping her. "Actually, Mrs. Giry and I met before. I think you want to discuss that case?"
He gave her the opening but Mrs. Giry would not allow her fire to cool. "Yes, I am not asking about you, Christine. But I do have questions about a past case of Gustave's."
"Oh," Christine nodded warily. "All right, I'll just…be outside the door?" She asked, but it wasn't clear to either party who she was asking. Murmuring something about Friday to Erik, she unlocked her chair and allowed Mrs. Giry to usher her outside before closing the door.
Mrs. Giry spun on her heels to face him.
"You will tell Khan that he is to supervise Christine's progress from now on."
Erik folded his arms over his chest. "And why should I do that? I'm a diagnostics surgeon, she couldn't be in better hands."
She narrowed her eyes and walked over to him. "You are an abomination."
Erik's eyes looked away, bored.
"That's beside the point. I'm a skilled doctor – the most skilled doctor Gustave ever hired, and you know it. Why would you want to see Christine's care compromised, madam?"
Her bitter anger envenomed her, and her hand was as quick as a cobra when she struck him full in the face. The impact snapped Erik's head to the side, his mask clattering to the floor from it.
"You killed my son."
Erik felt his control slip. His long dark hair obscured his downturned face and the cold rage of his eyes as he looked at his mask.
"You never had a son, you wretched harpy of a woman," his voice was gravel, as if talking was too controlled a measure to take. And then, madness seemed to steel him. He raised his head, his horrible face slipping past the curtain of his hair. His eyes looked down defiantly at her and he watched with sick satisfaction as her anger turned to fear and revulsion.
Giry took one step back. The another. Erik stood at his full height and took one solid, oaken step towards her.
"Leave," he grit, "before I think better of it."
And he turned his back in one fluid motion, bending to pick up his mask. He heard her clacking heels scatter to the door and then she was gone from the room. The white leather in his hand, he scrutinized it until he knew his temper was at last in check.
She knew something had happened in that room. Mrs. Giry practically flew her downstairs once she had left that room, and Christine could feel her speeding the car. And yet her guardian was more tight-lipped than usual. She said nothing during the drive.
It wasn't until they were home and Christine was inside the house again that Mrs. Giry seemed to realize the silence that had descended.
"I think we should have Dr. Khan resume your care," Mrs. Giry's voice had a plastic quality to it. "He's such a nice man, Christine, and he was your father's favorite colleague. Gustave wouldn't want you in anyone else's hands, don't you think?"
"No."
Mrs. Giry sighed. "I knew you'd agree. I'll just give him a call –"
"No." Christine's voice was strange even to her. More like stone than she was used to. "I will not change doctors."
It seemed that this surprised Mrs. Giry. She was quiet for a moment, and Christine hoped she would not continue.
"I don't think Destler is the best choice-"
"And I think he is, Mrs. Giry." Christine pressed her shoulders back to her chair and sat up. "I am injured, Mrs. Giry, but I'm still an adult and it is my right to decide who my doctor will be." And she forced herself to remain where she was, not backing down on this request even as it pained her to make Mrs. Giry unhappy.
She heard Mrs. Giry make a tight noise in her throat and toss her keys on the table.
"As you say," her voice was clipped. "I think I'm tired. I'll say goodnight now."
Christine murmured goodnight and heard Mrs. Giry's heels depart before finally shrinking into her chair and rubbing her hands over her face. She fought down the urge to apologize to her former ballet teacher. She tried to remember what Erik had said.
"And I suppose that watching you devour yourself from the inside out rather than talking about what's wrong isn't going to distress someone who cares about you?"
Why had she defended him so fiercely? Dr. Khan was a good doctor, and her father did trust him. So why wasn't that good enough?
She licked her lips. "Take this sinking ship and point it home. We still have time …"
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Songs used:
'Falling Slowly' from Once (musical)
