A/N: Erik will try but he will still play the fool. He is far too stubborn to admit defeat and that he could be wrong in the woman he pursues. He'll need a good knock on the head to see things clearly.
Chapter Nine
The Heart Wants What It Wants
It had not been easy getting Pricilla into the buggy. Loretta only later came to the conclusion she should have hitched up the wagon. The back would have been much roomier and easier to get Pricilla in and out.
Loretta only vaguely remembered where Dr. Derrick Macleod's home and office were located. It could not be that hard to find. The town was of a fair size but not vast enough to lose oneself.
When she found the doctor's residence Loretta wasted no time alerting anyone who cared to know that she had a woman who needed attention and needed it now. Dr. Macleod or Mac as everyone called him opened his door to see a vary harassed looking women ready to pound on his door once more.
Not giving Mac any time to question her she explained that Pricilla had been injured and may have a concussion. Mac ran down the steps to have a look. It did not take him long to figure out that someone had done this to Mrs. Dante, it had not been accidental. He could clearly see the fingerprints on her arm. Mac had seen far too many women in New York with the same sort of bruising and often times worse.
Carefully he picked up Pricilla to carry her into his office. Once he had her lying prone on his examining table all her other injuries came to light. Someone would pay for this Mac vowed as he gently probed the now swollen lower part of Pricilla's arm. When she groaned in pain Mac mercifully did not probe further until he could administer a painreliever.
Mac had not been in town when the last batch of women had arrived. Looking down at his patient he felt a pang in his chest. She wasn't beautiful or even pretty but that would not ever be an issue with Mac. He had seen his own beautiful mother and sisters use their God-given bounty to shred men to bits. They teased, manipulated and lied their way from one man to another with little or no regret.
His own fiancée had been one of New York's most beautiful women yet she had played him for a fool. Promising herself to him she had been carrying on an affair with another man. She had even tried to pass off her child as his. Mac had known it could not be as the time of conception coincided with his trip to Europe.
Looking into Pricilla's eyes Mac concluded she had at least escaped a concussion or if she had one it would be mild. Her pupils were responsive to the light. Her breathing and pulse were both steady and strong. Ascertaining that Mrs. Dante's arm had only been fractured rather than broken Mac just had to bind it securely. He cleaned the other wounds and dabbed a soothing salve on them. When he had finished Mac could not resist brushing back the few stray strands of hair that had escaped her braid.
Loretta had told him his patient's last name was Dante. Mac sifted through all the men he knew. When his mind settled on Erik he promised to make a point of meeting Mr. Erik Dante real soon. Mac had not met him as of yet. He had only observed the man from afar. Mac had honed his ability to read what people hid underneath what they showed people. He came to the conclusion Mr. Dante had much he kept hidden. He did not seem at ease in the presence of others even if he did not give that fact away to the unobservant.
Mac had not thought Mr. Dante had looked the type to manhandle women but then did those degenerates ever look the type? Most of them were solid citizens in every other way. They looked and acted normal. It was only behind closed doors that they used their power to control and manipulate women. Any little perceived infraction of their rules or some slight dissatisfaction with the man's wife ended up being beaten and cowed. Those men were generally cowards who needed this supposed power to fuel a flagging ego or some inadequacy.
He would not stand by while such a fragile creature became another statistic of man's cruelty to man. Mac would face this man Erik Dante head on. He'd warn him that the next time he touched his wife in any other manner than a loving caress Mac would be paying him a visit he would not soon forget.
This threat Mac intended to make would no be an idle promise that would soon be forgotten. It was even a viable one as Mac stood well over six feet. He topped out at 6 feet 4 inches in his bare feet. Nothing about him suggested a weakling. He was broad of shoulder and slim of hip. His blond hair and light blue eyes may look angelic but when it came to defending the defenseless Mac could be anything but angelic toward the guilty party. He had done it many times before. He had even used his own funds to aid in relocating some poor woman and her children. He would continue the support until such time as the women procured an adequate means to support herself and her children.
"Pricilla it is time to wake up. You have nothing to fear. Let Mac take care of everything. Come on sweetheart let me get a look at the color of your eyes. I am not so bad to look at that you need to hide behind sleep."
Loretta stood just behind Mac. She worried to hear the doctor speak in this way. He seemed a bit forward for all his kindness. She should ask him to carry Pricilla out to the wagon and be on her way. Erik would wonder where they had gone. Loretta would not let Erik harm Pricilla again if she could prevent it. She could not imagine what had set him off. Erik had seemed a little on the grumpy side at times but nothing had hinted at this level of violence.
Pricilla began to moan and her eyes fluttered. When she could hold them open with little difficulty her vision cleared. She saw the man before her as some sort of angel as she hurt so badly she felt she must have died from the pain of it.
"Am I dead? Are you the angel sent to guide me home?" Pricilla had always thought death would be an end to earthly pain.
Although slightly slurred in her speech, Pricilla spoke well enough for Mac to understand her. He chuckled as he said gently, "Well now sweetheart I am surely no angel and no, you are not dead. I am Dr. Derrick Macleod. Everyone calls me Mac at least to my face, God only knows what they call me behind my back. You may do so also if you wish.
I tended to your head wound and wrapped your arm. You will need to rest for a day or two. I can give you some medication now that you are awake for the pain. The bruising while turning all shades of the rainbow will look colorful but will fade soon enough.
I do believe your friend Loretta is chomping at the bit to get you home." Mac turned more serious as he took Pricilla's hand. "Should you need me for anything, day or night, all you need do is send for me or come to me. I will do whatever is necessary to keep you safe. Do you understand me?"
Pricilla felt too battered and bruised to argue with the doctor. She realized he thought Erik some sort of maniac. Well if she was truthful with herself, had Erik not been slightly mad when treating her so violently? Whatever she had done she had not deserved to be treated in such a brutal way. A man should never lay a hand on a woman in anger.
As much as Pricilla wanted to do so she could not find the words to defend Erik at the moment. The hurt was too fresh and her mind too fogged to think. The best thing she decided would be to say nothing at all. Let this man, Mac, draw his own conclusions.
Pricilla protested weakly when Mac picked her up to carry her out to the wagon. She could not say honestly once in his arms she minded quite so much. It felt good to be surrounded by such strength while cocooned in the safety his gentle embrace. She could hear the steady beat of his heart where her head rested on his chest. This is how Erik should treat her. This is what women dreamed of, being held protectively by a man giving her comfort.
When Mac released her Pricilla felt pangs of regret. For that short bit of time she had imagined those arms were the arms of a lover drawing her to him to keep forever. As she had felt herself being jostled against his chest Pricilla had felt disloyal to Erik for the emotions brought forth by Mac. Mac. She rolled the name silently over her tongue. She liked it. Erik did not deserve any favorable regard from her yet Pricilla could not help wanting to believe this recent battering would be the first and only such incident. Did that make her a fool? Even knowing where his devotion lay Pricilla could not keep hope from burning with a small flame. To give up on him completely would mean another failure in a life filled with them. She would not give up at the first sign of adversity. Perhaps not all marriages went through this sort of trial but they all had issues which must be worked out in order to live together in harmony.
While Loretta and Pricilla had been gone Erik had sunk into despair. He had heard the knocking but knew to open the door would have him going at Pricilla once more. He had drowned out every other sound with the pounding notes he had bashed out on the keys of his piano. He had played random notes with no clear composition in mind. All he wanted was to drown out the sound of Loretta asking for him to help the woman he had abused so horribly.
When he thought he had given enough time for whoever had been at his door to leave Erik had stopped playing. He heard the slamming of the front door then a little latter the jingling of the rigging of either the wagon or buggy. Erik slammed his hands down on the top of his piano angrily. His anger did not all belong to Pricilla. Erik fels angry with himself.
Erik's feverish mind vacilated between remorse, angry justification, and worry that he had driven Pricilla away with his unforgiveable tirade. Fearing Pricilla would be leaving him Erik had gone to the window to see Loretta struggling to drag Pricilla to the waiting buggy. She appeared to be unconscious. Wanting to rush out to lend a hand and knowing he couldn't Erik sobbed with a mixture of despair, regret, and disgust with himself for his actions.
For most of Erik's life he had not denied himself anything that he could buy or steal. He indulged himself lavishly to compesate for other areas of his life he could do notthing to improve. Christine had been one of those unobtainble dreams.
Going into the closet Erik forced himself to examine every piece he had kept to aid him in keeping Christine real for him. He felt as long as he had these tangible remnants of his old life and Christine he could have hope that things could change in his favor. Now it only represented a pitiful attempt to keep someone who had never been his to keep. Christine had been an impossible dream, a fantasy.
Thousands of miles separated them as well as the fact that she had no real desire to find him or be with him. Erik sank to the floor as the full realization came over him just what he had done, what he had lost due to this useless longing for a woman who would only ever be his in dreams. Could dreams comfort one throughout a lifetime? Would they not eventually lose the power to satisfy when no real physical connection could be made?
Grabbing the closest pieces Erik began to rip them apart. Standing up he shoved his way past the half opened door. Erik searched for that book that had damned him to this new hell. Picking up his journal Erik tore page after page from the book. Once the carnage began he could not stop. Erik tore his room apart then continued on to the shrine of his beloved.
He did not stop until nothing remained intact. He only hesitated a moment or two before destroying Christine's lifelike mannequin. Erik had carved every curve of Christine's face and figure with painstaking precision over a period of some eight months. This had been his most hated and loved secret. Pleasure not gained with a real companion could be found in the stiff arms of his creation. Erik's denial of Christine's warm embrace while loving her with every part of him led him to this insanity. Later after all had been lost he had reclaimed his lair and the remainder of his possessions.
The only things of value to the mob had been the items that would translate into coins when sold. All those objects Erik had treasured above any other had been discarded as worthless. Erik had needed them to save what little sanity he had retained after Christine's departure. If he could not have her he would have her likeness in all the ways he could recreate her.
Feeling sick to his soul Erik purged himself a little at a time with every piece of Christine's likeness he destroyed. Ripping page after page bearing her likeness Erik waded through all his memories good and bad. When measured side by side his moments with Christine had more negative than positive memories. Had his time with her really not been as wonderful as he had thought?
Taken moment by moment he could only find rare instances when he had felt close to any real joy and those times were all when he and Christine shared some musical bond. No conversation about anything other than music could he recall having with her. In the last six months of their time together all he could remember were his threats and his last desperate act to win her.
When nothing remained of the shrine Erik slumped down leaning his head against the wall. He began a rhythmic thumping as he chanted, "Stupid, stupid, stupid." For so little return he had devoted two years of his life loving a woman with no promise of anything more than his own imaginings of what they shared.
There had been passion he felt sure, a small piece of her heart perhaps had been claimed by him, her voice had taken him as near to heaven as he could hope to go. For that little bit of Christine Erik had literally destroyed his whole world.
He had created a shrine to a woman who would never enter his life again while he had berated, ignored and harmed a woman who had given her promise to be his and his alone. She had made that commitment before God and man. If he could have opened his eyes and heart just a little would he not now be nearer to his dream of what life should be?
Driving the heel of his hands into his eyes Erik ground them into his head as if that would erase all he had done. Erik had never felt so close to the monster people had thought him as he did at this moment. Only a man possessed of some evil demonic being could do what he had done.
In all his life Erik had never laid an unkind hand on a woman. Being who he had been the opportunity to do so had been there every day. That had not been who he was or wanted to be. Women had always held a place of honor in Erik's mind. Not until Pricilla had he let the evilness in him come completely out in the open. Erik had been a little rough with Christine twice in all the years he had been watching over her. Those times had been the result of her ripping off his mask. Pricilla had not even committed that most heinous trespass against Erik.
Erik forced himself to his feet. He would not hide away from his shame. He would confront it and hope to win back a little of Pricilla and Loretta's respect. He would ask for no more than that. Taking a seat on the veranda Erik vowed he would sit and wait even if the sun sank and rose again before they came back and come back they must if Erik was to continue on. His one purpose in life now was to win her forgiveness.
Even as he promised himself this new beginning he new in the back of his mind he hid the lie his conscience clearly pinted out to him. Erik could not let go of his dream of possessing Christine even knowing she loved another heart and soul. The little glimmer of hope she had given him paled with all she gave to that boy, Raoul de Chagny. For Erik that little ray of light gave him too much hope to abandon what he had wanted for so long.
A/N: Yeah Erik's being a pr*ck right now. He has no control over any of his emotions. All his life his anger had been left unchecked. No one dare challeng him. Christine had been his one hope for so long and he had devoted so much of his life to her it will not be easily forgotten but I promise he will see another angelic light, evenually.
