Chapter Ten: Rosary

Half an hour later my party and myself were found in the sitting room. Daroga and myself were sited on shabby over stuffed armchairs, holding our cooling cups in silence. A steaming kettle was held above the crackling fire and ever now and again a small high pitch whistle would penetrate my ears, reminding me of my need to drink. Of course I was dressed with my mask and in the presence of visitors and Christine I wasn't willing to remove it. Sliding back into familiar comfort I now and again cast my golden eyes on the Persian. My old friend was still rather pale and gave me the instinct impression that he was still suffering from my "resurrection".

Darrius, who was kneeling by my poor Christine who was still recovering from her fall, sprawled across a couch, tried to wake her with some smelling salts. She, however, did not stir.

Finally I broke the silence. I knew too well Darrius was trained not to hear so he should not hear this.

"What on earth possessed you?" I exclaimed as the cup shook in my hand, spilling cold tea over my cuffs. I didn't even care if I messed my funeral clothes… though I was very much relieved they hadn't attempted to change me into something more suitable.

The Persian looked up from his tea and opened his mouth once, but stopped himself. After taking a gulp of his cold tea, which I could see in his eyes didn't please him, he announced, "You had been... well, asleep for two days."

Two days! I could hardly believe it! I placed my cup down on a nearby table, spilling it ever where and turned to look at the sleeping beauty whose pale face caused me pain and tear stained cheeks caused me sorrow.

"How did she take it?" I asked quietly while Darrius made a second attempt to revive Christine, his dark hands holding the bottle under her nostrils in a vain attempt to get some reaction or other.

Daroga looked straight at me, as if he was ashamed to admit it "She took it terribly." This made me smile behind the mask, my eyes softening in my loving gaze. "Erik, I do not know what happened between the Comte and Miss Daae but I presume it has had some affect on her views on you…" He let out a sigh of defeat "When she found you, limp as a shilna fish, in the morn she became quite ill. She stayed by your side for a good part of the day, refusing to believe you dead. I was rather surprised myself, especially after what you said before… as you can see, you've made her suffer."

"Well it wasn't exactly deliberate." I retorted. "How was I to know I'd go into a state of a coma? Did even bother to check my pulse?" I pointed my skeletal finger under the dim light of the fire at the stupefied Persian.

"Well of course we did." He muttered thought there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"We?" I questioned while I attended to my tea stained cuff. I really did need to refresh and change my clothes. After all, I had apparently been in them for three days. Not exactly fitting for a musical genius to be an unclean one.

"Err… look, we checked but you must have had a very distant and slow heart beat," he muttered while twiddling his dark thumbs in uncertainty.

Of course, everything had seemed so much clearer at that point. I would have been buried by a bunch of idiots. One an unstable wreck refusing to believe me dead (at least on of them had some sense), an idiotic ex Daroga and an idiotic friend of an ex Daroga. Charming combination.

I was about to say something extremely witty and offensive but I was silenced by the soft groan coming from a certain lady whom I had now, a great deal more respect in than I had before. Even in my death she had refused to leave me… she was indeed more loyal than I had expected. Then again, was it not me who had turned her away? Was it not me who had to convince her to leave me, mostly out of force?

Darrius let out an untranslatable mutter of Persian as she opened her brilliant blue eyes again. Her pale lips trembled as her eyes focused and lay on me. I smiled behind the mask, but of course she wouldn't be able to see those grim twisted lips show terrible yellow stained teeth, much like a skull's smile. A corpse's smile…

Lifting her head she examined me for little more than a minute in pure silence. I couldn't tell what Daroga was doing but I was sure he was looking at both of us in silent confusion. She slowly uttered a sigh then said "Oh… you're alive…" in surprised relief, resting her pretty head on a velvet cushion.

I simply nodded my head. I wasn't exactly feeling the best… groggy and rather manic. My body, a corpse, seemed to have a marvellous immune system that did it's best to embarrass myself in front of visitors.

She had been rather blunt but I still watched her with a newfound respect. So she did care… then again, it was too early to get carried away. I had a talent of doing that.

Darrius helped the girl up, propping her head against his straggly shoulders. After finding her balance, Christine simply exited the room without another word. I was taken aback and hurt by these actions… apparently I didn't matter at all. It wasn't kindness, it must have been horror. She would have been glad to see the back of me.

After having a dull conversation with the Persian, watching his manservant carry away all my crockery to the kitchen like a maid, I was becoming restless to change. I wanted to feel fresh, I wanted to wash my horrid face and wear something more comfortable. It was lucky I didn't get bedsores having been in the same position for little more than two days. We had talked of the sleeping arrangements. Of course, I would have murdered Daroga on the spot if he had left Christine with a man in a coma for two days. I would have also murdered him if he stayed. Apparently Darrius had stayed the night under strict instructions to obey Christine, sleeping on the couch. I wasn't at all amused but least he had kept his distance, Daroga returning all day and making arrangements at night.

I made my excuses and left to change. It was glorious, the warm water flowing into my hideous hands, the pureness of it. The beauty. I had always admired water… it was a pity it had to be drunk.

Although it was extremely rude and quite out of character for me to creep into Christine's room like fox in the coop, I couldn't help but pass the door and open it… only a little, just to see her. She hadn't locked it and there was no one in sight, it was quite safe to have a little peek. Just a little one…

I peered through the darkness and made out the sleeping beauty, wrapped, fully dressed in a sheet, lying on the floor. It seemed she had either preferred the cold floor to the bed, which was unlikely, or she had simply fallen into an exhausted heap.

All the same, I couldn't help but approach. Of course, I made no noise as I casually walked through the darkness and kneeled by her side. Out of impulse I caressed a golden lock which hid her delicate face and cast it aside, ever so gently to reveal her pleasant features in there child like expression of tranquillity and peace.

It was a sin to move her, but I had to remember she was still the patient even though I had done enough to earn that title a hundred times over. Christine was not as light as she seemed, you would have thought from her air of walking, her elegant liquid steps, or strides depending on her reasons, could be so… almost human. Just like a child, a sleeping child… or better yet a dead child. Limp and silent, her physical weight wasn't what bothered me; it was the weight that pulled my heartstrings that bothered me. I, of course, wasn't at all in good health but I was just able to have her lay in my arms, a lily white hand dangling from the slumbering heap, clutching a trailing sheet as I rested her on the bed. As much as I wished to stay I had visitors to attend to and get rid of.

As I turned to leave, her sweet scent of crushes petals lingering on my evening attire, I heard a small whimper followed by a call of my name. Turning I found my angelic darling, arms outstretched as if she was hoping for someone to pull her up, maybe some hovering apparition to take her to St. Peter's gates.

"Holy angel in heaven blessed…" she whispered, lids shut "…my spirit longs with thee to rest…"

I was just able to make out a pearl drop tear roll down her pale cheek. Her arms still outstretched. The child must have been dreaming… but I knew the importance of those words. I was perfectionist… the right line and BAM Christine Daae was gone from stage! An uproar from the crowd and the injection of ecstasy from her struggles while I held the damp cloth to her…

But I hadn't expected her to be at all affected by that line. I walked over to her and with trembling hands, took her cold hands into my own. How cold! I wasn't one for being the "warmest" of fellows but even to me her touch was cold. As soon as I took her hands into mine, her arms dropped and I was left holding her limp arms.

"Goodnight Christine…" I made sure to wrap her well in the sheets, wiping that cold tear from her chin. I stroked her cheeks, just a brush, nothing more. I couldn't control myself when she was near. It was as if she was in control but completely unaware of it.

Still, I had to return to my guests… no doubt Daroga would run in accusing me of the worst of crimes, standing over the child's bed. How dead she looked! I took into detailed account how very pale she had grown and how-

"Damn it." I had growled as I made out small swelling patch on my angel's sheets. Damn. Damn. Damn.

I had wondered if we would ever be free of this game. One of us falls ill, the other heals, and then the healer falls ill so on so forth. The game was toying with my nerves… had I not noticed?

And there, were I had missed, lying on the chamber floor was a rosary, the tip of the cross-dipped in dark congealed blood. There was a little trail, almost like a circle, of blood splatters… that was when I knew; this would be a long night.

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So tired but I reckoned I hadn't done this in a while… so here we go. Tenth chapter. Yet again we have the clique doctor/patient thing going on… which I tell you, is getting on my nerves. Oh well. There are MORE dramatic scenes coming up in our next chapters, all very depressing, romantic and … dramatic?