Chapter 10

Erik growled through clenched teeth, "Touch me with another needle and I swear I will hit you!" Lying on his right side with both arms beneath the blanket, he had firmly secured the edge of the covering with his hands. Trembling with fury, he glared up with a wary hostility at Lucy who was trying to pry the fabric loose from his fingers.

"Let go!" She grunted as she tugged, only now realizing that Erik had rolled some of the blanket beneath his shoulder, trapping it effectively. "Damn it, it's time for your next lithium dose, and by God, do you need it! Why do you always have to wake up in a such vile mood!"

Pulling the blanket tighter, he shot back, "Why can't you leave me alone! Go away!"

"Stop this demented struggling! You need your medicine." Lucy locked eyes with him, staring back rudely.

Molly crossed the room, her eyes narrowing at the bitter struggle that would do their patient no good at all. The poor man was understandably growing weary of the routine, especially after the shocking revelation of his condition earlier today. Erik's stamina was heavily rationed at the moment, and if he wasn't careful, he would spend it all in one desperate act of resistance. She had to put a stop to this.

"I'm not a broches cusion!" he snapped.

At the inclusion of the French words, Molly knew Erik's anxiety was reaching a breaking point. They had discovered that currently it was taking him a great deal of concentration to not drift back into his native tongue. Stepping forward, she cut off Lucy just as she was about to speak. "Go fetch Rosalind."

"But, her shift just ended!" Lucy let go of her hold on the blanket. "She's probably getting ready for bed."

With a stern glare, Molly pointed to the door. "You created this mess. She's about the only one who can get him to cooperate now that you've whipped him up into a frenzy. Unless you want to go knock on his wife's bedchamber waking her from a rare sleep and explain what you did."

In a huff, she turned and left the room, leaving Molly under Erik's wary stare. His grip on the blanket was not relaxing, nor was his expression. She knew better than to reach down and try anything, it would only make him less compliant.

"I don't blame you." She sighed. "But she is right, you do need it."

He closed his eyes, concentrating hard. "I don't care!"

The door opened and Rosalind slipped in, her hair trailing down in a disheveled mess over her plain night gown. All day, he had been in a highly volatile state after that foolish bleating by Wright. Keeping Erik calm had taken a greater deal of finesse, leaving her drained. It had been less than an hour since Lucy had relieved her. And even then, she had been concerned how well the night would go.

Molly crossed the room, catching her by the arm and whispering, "Sorry to wake you, dear. But he's hunkered down pretty tight in there. Hoping you can coax him out."

She rubbed her eyes with a yawn. "Let me guess, Lucy tried to rush things. Let me see what I can do."

As she approached the bed, Erik's eyes remained locked on Lucy who lurked by the door. Sitting down in the chair at the bedside, Rosalind waited a moment for his heated gaze to drift to her. "What's wrong, Erik?" she patiently whispered.

His kept his hold on the shielding blanket. "She wants to stab me."

"You mean Lucy?" Rosalind glanced over her shoulder. "I don't see a knife here, what was she going to stab you with?"

His eyes darted to the loaded syringe on the table.

"Ah. I see." She nodded. "So it was time for your injection again."

"I don't want it." He pulled the covers tighter, the phrase in French.

Fortunately for Rosalind, through the aid of Christine she was beginning to pick up the more common phrases he would blurt out. "Erik, the lithium is essential right now. Remember what I told you earlier? It's helping to stabilize the mood swings you were suffering from."

He shut his eyes, shaking. "I'm fine!"

Raising an eyebrow she crossed her arms loosely. "You're hiding in a blanket. This isn't fine, Erik."

He curled a little tighter, not quite able to manage curling into a ball beneath the covers as he muttered in forceful English. "I don't like how it makes me feel … my thoughts are foggy as it is!"

She didn't dare reach out yet. This was going to take a bit to break through. Rubbing her eyes she sighed. "This won't last forever. I promise. Just long enough we can be certain that you are stable again. Alright? We'll taper it off as soon as we can."

Beneath the covers she saw his finger's shifting before he murmured, "My arms hurt."

Well, that was a valid complaint. By now there were so many pocked bruises from the injection sites they had been running out of muscle on both his arms, the sites getting ever closer together.

Leaning forward, she laid her hand on the edge of the bed. "Tell you what. If you let me do it without a fuss, I'll let you tell me where you want it. Then, I'll go straight to Wright's room and wake him up from his beauty sleep and see if we can't switch to a different manner of administering things. Do we have a deal?"

His eyes stared at her hand for a long time before there was any sign of response. Molly, who had been watching from a distance, out of his line of sight, began to wonder if he had even heard Rosalind. Then, ever so slowly, she watched as Erik's iron grip on the blanket relaxed, his fingers appearing under the edge.

Taking up the syringe in her hand, Rosalind reached over and gently exposed his arm. "Just point to a place that won't bother you as much."

Erik was weary from the fight, a trembling finger trailed up his arm until he tentatively settled it on a narrow space of unmarred skin. Rapidly he shut his eyes, a quiet whimper escaping him as the needle punctured the skin.

Massaging the sore muscle with gentle strokes, Rosalind whispered, "I know you're tired of this, Erik. I understand your frustration. But, no one is trying to torture you. We're only doing what you need to get better. As swiftly as we can we'll do away with all this. Try to be patient a while longer." Releasing his arm, she set the syringe aside. "Now, I made you a promise and I'm going to fulfill it. Time for me to go rudely wake Doctor Wright."

Reaching over, Rosalind picked up an empty metal basin and cast Erik a conspiratorial grin. "Do you think this will make a loud enough noise if I drop it beside his bed?"

It was faint, but Molly swore she saw the trace of a smile momentarily on Erik's face. Pausing on her way to door, Rosalind leaned over and whispered to Molly. "Do me a favor, don't leave Lucy alone with him tonight. I know that means you'll have to stay up longer. I'll try to rise earlier to relieve you."

"No dear." Molly placed a hand on her shoulder. "You need your rest too. I can handle a long one. I'll make sure she does not go anywhere near him with anything sharp, including her tongue!"

Hefting the basin, Rosalind chuckled. "Alright. Time for a little rude awakening for the doctor. I think he's earned it!"

Molly winked, "Leave the door wide open so we can hear him down the hall."

"Oh, you'll hear him, whether or not the door is shut!"

The light from the crystal chandelier cascaded down, catching the fine bead work on her evening gown. Christine guiltily tugged on the edges of the light cloak as she lingered in the foyer.

"You look stunning, as always." Damrosch reached forward and adjusted her elegant hairpin, tucking a few strands back. "You can relax, he'll be fine."

Her eyes gazed vaguely back in the direction of Erik's sickroom, even though it was in the other wing. "I don't feel right leaving him alone, not after how upset he was yesterday. Last night after I went to bed he got really irate with one of the nurses."

"He won't be alone." He held a hand to his chest. "That's why I'm here. Honestly, I can hardly blame him for not taking that news well. Heh, had someone just blurted that out to me, I highly doubt my reaction would be any better. Considering how long things have been … well … turbulent, I would say he's handling it about as well as can be expected."

Bowing her head, she fussed with the lace ruffle on her neckline. "I'm so sorry to have inconvenienced you, Damrosch. I just didn't know what to do."

He gave an easy chuckle. "Christine. Stop apologizing. I agree with you, poor Nadir needs a day or two in his bed, stay off that leg and let that concoction of a pain reliever catch up. I sincerely hope it works for him. Besides, I don't mind missing the concert. It's not like I haven't attended every other year. You go and sing your heart out for him. I'll make sure he wakes to someone he knows … that is, if he remembers me."

Placing a hand on his, she shook her head. "I had hoped to be in the room the first time he awoke to find you there. He seems to remember a lot of general things I have asked him about. But he hasn't actually seen you yet." She hesitated. "Damrosch, I shouldn't be going. He needs me here."

He gripped her elbows, looking down into her eyes solemnly. "I think you need to perform for two reasons. One is that rumors are once more beginning to circulate about where Erik is. Only just today I had someone ask me in the Hall why they haven't seen him perform in well over a year. I told them the usual story about him being in Europe on extended business and that I had only just received a letter from him last week. He was enjoying the lovely weather in Naples. Luckily, the couple seemed to believe me. They need to see you out there like nothing has happened. Secondly, and far more importantly, I think you need to do this for yourself. You and Erik are kindred spirits. Music is solace for the both of you. While he has suffered over the course of this ailment, so have you. Rarely do I see your acknowledgment of that fact." He gave her a slight smile. "Go on. Take a little time for yourself. You need this without feeling a shred of guilt."

Hesitantly she nodded. "Very well, Maestro."

"Erik would want you to do this." He brushed her cheek, offering an encouraging smile. "Go sing for him."

For the first time this afternoon he saw her smile. "Rosalind should be there the whole time, she doesn't rush him like the others tend to. They switched things this morning, started giving him tinctures instead of injections … he was getting so dreadfully sore."

He nodded. "I saw his arms the last time."

Laying a hand on his arm she added. "Oh, this is very important. When he starts to have trouble keeping his words in English, he's getting agitated. Usually there will be a number of French words slipping out. He really needs to stay calm right now."

Opening the door for her, he nodded his head in the direction of the waiting carriage. "And you need to be on your way. It's only until early this evening. Everything will be fine. Have a good time."

Lingering in the doorway, he watched as she climbed into the carriage before it drove out onto the cobblestone street. Closing the heavy oak door, he heaved a sigh. "I knew that was going to be quite a task convincing her to go."

Climbing the main staircase, he glanced in the direction of Erik's darkened study, wishing that was where he was headed … for an idle chat with his friend, or perhaps an inspired session of composing music. Instead, the room that was once the center of Erik's life was eerily silent.

Turning down the hall, he wandered into the western wing feeling the weight of his thoughts pulling his shoulders down. Opening the sickroom door, he slipped inside swiftly so as not to admit much light … only to discover several drapes had been drawn back, admitting the bright afternoon sunlight. His eyes darted to the bed. Erik had been settled on his right side. By his lax hand hanging slightly over the edge, he could tell his friend was soundly sleeping.

A slight pressure on his shoulder stole his attention. He looked up to find Rosalind pressing a finger to her lips. "Shh. He'll be sleeping for a while longer yet under the influence of the codeine. The longer he rests, the longer I can let some light in the room."

He nodded and quietly crossed the room, studying Erik's sleeping form. His complexion looked a little better, not quite so sickly white. Of course, the tiny bruises on his arms had more than tripled since last he had seen him. Thank God that was over with. Something else was different … oh yes, someone had cut his hair back to the way he had always worn it. Just long enough to be slightly feathered. His eyes drifted to the nightstand where they found a length of silver braid tied at both ends with a black ribbon. Christine must have done that before they cut it off. He admitted quietly to himself, Erik had looked dreadful with that mess of overgrown hair.

Rosalind drifted by, waving him into the bedside chair. "I've been opening the room up the last couple of days when I knew he wouldn't open his eyes suddenly."

"How long will that last?" Damrosch glanced up at her. "God, I remember him telling me how much the stage lights bothered him so long ago."

All she could offer was a shrug. "Hard to say. But already we have turned the lights up in slow increments and he doesn't seem to be bothered. We'll just have to keep the pace gradual so it doesn't hurt him." Glancing at the clock, she smiled. "He should sleep for another hour. I'm just going to run down to the kitchen and grab him something for when he wakes. When I come back, I'll need to shut the drapes."

After she departed, Damrosch leaned back in the chair watching the breeze stirring the heavy drapes. Outside, the birdsong layered over the passing of horse drawn carriages. The world drifted on by, hardly guessing what was going on in here. Sadly, his eyes drifted back to observe the slow rise and fall of Erik's chest beneath the covers. For so long … his life had ground to an abrupt halt. Damrosch wondered, not for the first time, how would things proceed from here?

Soundlessly, Rosalind slipped back into the room with a fairly large tankard in her hand. Placing it on the table without comment, she began to tie the drapes shut one by one. Gradually the bright room darkened, cast once more in the essential shadows.

A short time later, Erik released a quiet groan before his eyes began to open. The lids fluttered briefly before he gave a pronounced slow blink at the figure in the chair. "Damrosch?"

Leaning forward with a warm smile, he touched his hand. "Yes, I'm here, Erik. It's good to be recognized again."

"What … what are you doing here?" Erik's drowsy voice betrayed that he was only half awake.

"Christine wanted to make sure you didn't wake up alone."

"Oh," he muttered, "that's usually why you come … because she asks … because I am … what was I saying?"

Chuckling, Damrosch gave his hand a pat. "Finish waking up before you try to speak."

"Yes … I should do that." Shutting his eyes he took a few slow breaths.

Rosalind quietly moved in, picking up the tankard. "This might help fortify you a bit. Something different than just that broth."

Opening his eyes to the tankard, he eyed it in confusion. "What the hell is that?"

"A nice hearty ale."

With the jerky wave of a hand Erik retorted, "I drink wines, not ales."

The characteristic remark made Damrosch chuckle. Well, he remembered that much!

She shook her head with a firm smile, still patiently holding out the tankard. "Not right now, you don't. This is better for you at the moment, rather a liquid bread."

"That sounds appetizing," Erik remarked sarcastically. "How about some actual bread."

"Not until you can sit up. Honestly, you might like this. It's surprisingly good." Edging her hand under the pillow, she used it to slowly lift his head to an angle he could drink at.

At last Erik relented, his thirst overcoming any apparent reluctance to the inferior drink. It wasn't long before the tankard was empty. Carefully she shifted the pillows beneath him, settling him a little higher on his right side. Wordlessly, Rosalind whisked the tankard out of the way.

"Alright." He sighed. "I have to admit … but don't you dare tell anyone, that was actually a nice change."

"No reason to tell anyone." Damrosch grinned. "Wouldn't want to spoil your image."

Erik's eyes drifted aimlessly for a moment, clearly a thought had captured his attention. Slowly his hand drifted up towards his face. The moment it touched bare flesh, he completely froze. "Oh no! My mask!"

"Easy! Easy!" Damrosch leapt out of the chair, placing a hand on Erik's shoulder as the panic seized him. Rosalind was right behind him. "Erik, it's alright. You could hardly wear it over the bandages. Besides, I've already seen your face. There's nothing to hide. This isn't the first time I have been here at your bedside."

In between shuddering breaths, a few French words drifted into the air before Erik quelled the panic enough to concentrate. "It … it doesn't repulse you?"

Shaking his head, he took Erik's hand. "No. I understand the reason for the mask now … but I respect the man who wears it too much to be bothered with a mere appearance. So, not another word about it."

Gradually the tension released, the waning panic drained from his eyes.

Sitting back in the chair, Damrosch caught a relieved smile as Rosalind drifted by, pretending to be busy. He had to distract Erik from the shameful topic. There had to be something that might lift his spirits, if even a little. Oh yes. "Christine will be back in a little while. You know where she is?"

Erik's response was but a weary blink.

"She's at a concert this afternoon, singing her heart out."

Was that the twitch of a smile starting?

Waving his hand in the air like he was directing, Damrosch continued. "She's singing a beautiful aria you wrote. Oh, what was the name of it? The one about silver moonlight … " Of course he knew the name, this was a good chance for Erik to drag something up from his memory.

Closing his eyes, he whispered out after a lengthy pause, "Des larmes au clair de lune. It means moonlit tears in French."

"My God, Erik, she sounded so angelic when she practiced at the Hall. That piece is suited for her voice."

Lifting his hand ever so slightly off the bed, Erik's distant reply was accompanied by a soft smile. "That's because I wrote it for her."

Keep him thinking of the music, keep his thoughts on the pleasant memories of the past. It's what they both needed right now, an escape from the torment of their reality.

Softly, Damrosch began to hum the melody just letting the wistful notes linger in the air. At first it was very quiet, almost too quiet to hear … but Erik's own voice was humming along, drifting with the aria's languid movement. His eyes were loosely closed as his hand hovered in the air subtly moving to the underlying rhythm.

It was the first moment in well over a year that Damrosch had seen anything akin to bliss displayed by Erik. It almost broke his heart to think how long ago it had been. The melody came to its end. As Erik opened his eyes, he heaved a sigh. He still looked so tired, the lids drooping in the dim room.

Rosalind set her hand on his shoulder. "Looks like someone is still paying for last night's overexertion. Erik, close your eyes, try to get some rest."

He wasn't even fighting it. With a yawn, he shut his eyes, his breathing gradually settling.

"Sweet dreams." Rosalind whispered into his ear.

Leaning back in the chair, Damrosch allowed himself a small smile. At least Erik looked peaceful now, what a change from before … perhaps there was hope yet.