Author's Note:Hello again everyone! So, fun fact about this chapter - it was interesting to write about the physical side-effects of blood-loss, specifically because I was, some years ago, extremely anemic due to blood-loss, and let me tell you, I'm not even sure if I did the description of it justice here. It truly was a frozen hellhole, and I'm sorry for putting Erik through that shit. But at any rate, it was one of the times I could pull from personal experience, and that was definitely an interesting thing to approach. Also, the title is based on lyrics from the song "Half-Truism" by The Offspring. Alrighty, I'll wrap this up. As always, please let me know if this is flowing well and to y'all's satisfaction as readers and phans. R&R and enjoy!

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Chapter 14 – The Banner You're Waving

Christine

I slept fitfully that night; each time I felt close to falling asleep, I was startled forcefully into wakefulness once more by flashes of memories from that evening. Worse than that, each time I truly drifted off to sleep, my dreams were plagued with images too horrible to comprehend – the idea that Erik hadn't survived the journey, hadn't escaped at all and was left defenseless and injured at the hands of a man that meant only to do him harm; I saw him not turn away in time, the bullet meant for his heart reaching its intended target, thrusting him bleeding and dying onto the snow as I watched helplessly, unable to move or think. If that scenario didn't capture my dreams, then the alternative was that even had he made it to safety, he didn't survive the night – we would rise in the morning to find him dead, his injuries too grave to overcome. Sleep was not kind to me that night; it took until nearly sunrise for me to fall, quite exhausted, into a light and dreamless slumber, but I was greatly in need of even that much after our long ordeal.

I had attempted, shortly after resigning to go to bed at length, to look in on Erik while he slept. Madame Giry, however, halted me in my tracks, insisting that I needed to rest as much as he did and that she would see to it that he was well in my absence. Hesitantly, I assented to her demand, reassured only by her promise that she would come get me should even the slightest disturbance occur in the night. And so with that in mind, I woke with a start when I heard her moving about the room that I shared with Meg, the first rays of sunshine forcing their way through an opening in the otherwise drawn curtains – I was sure that something was wrong, and was already gesturing to leave my side of the bed when she lightly pushed me back into my pillow.

"He's fine, child. I only came to look in on you two," she whispered.

"Has something happened, Mama?" Meg stirred.

"Nothing at all, it's only just morning. Go back to sleep, both of you. I want you two to sleep in today, you could surely use it."

She tucked the blankets around us as a doting mother would for her small children before leaving the room. The air was chilly beyond the bed, but I was otherwise comfortably warm in the nest of blankets that Madame was always sure to keep supplied. I could not say that I was entirely content, however; I wanted to see Erik, simply to put my thoughts at ease – Madame's assurances could not fend off the nightmares that overwhelmed my heart, and I had to see for myself that the man I love still held on to his life. I moved into the hallway gingerly and snuck out to the living room, although I was certain that Madame Giry had seen my progress and chose to feign ignorance to my moving about the apartment. Grateful that she let my disobedience pass, I made my way to the divan.

For all the fuss he raised over the inconvenience of the sling, Erik slept as soundly as he was able under the circumstances with it on; while his injured arm remained immobile, he had managed to wrap his free arm around the pillow in the night, and there it remained when I came to him. He appeared somewhat restless but otherwise remained asleep, and although I knew there would be pain when he awoke, I was reassured simply by the sight of him before me; had it not been for the sling and the vivid memories of the night before, I could have imagined he had simply fallen asleep on the spot, perhaps while drawing or writing late into the night – I could have convinced myself that all was well. Even in his pain, his body had lost the tension he carried almost constantly, his face freed of the worry and anger that more often than not plagued his countenance. I arranged the blankets more securely around him as Madame had done for Meg and I, and while I noted that he was still cold to the touch and startlingly pale, his breathing was even and strong, and I allowed myself a sigh of relief.

I knew that Erik was in good hands in Madame Giry's home – she was as protective of him as she was of Meg and I, no harm would befall a single one of us as far as she was concerned – but to see him that morning with my own eyes, still alive and safe, gave me the reassurance I needed to put my frightening memories and vivid nightmares safely away in the back of my mind. I could never forget what we had gone through, but I could more easily focus on what was ahead. I reminded myself that we hadn't lost anything truly – as close as we had come to defeat – and in bearing that in mind, I bent down again to kiss Erik on the forehead before I swept silently back into the bedroom.

Only then was I able to sleep peacefully.

~~oOo~~

When I completely awoke later that morning, I found myself quite alone in the small bedroom; I could faintly hear Madame Giry and Meg bustling about in the rooms beyond, their voices low but holding no ominous hints of disquietude. I took that as a good sign that Erik was still well. I pulled the curtains open completely, allowing the pale but steadfast winter sunlight to flood the air around me, and readied myself for the day in a haste. I was eager to be among familiar and comforting faces while keeping my hands busy whenever possible, and to look upon Erik once again.

The curtains of the living room window were still drawn shut, the fireplace radiating warmth despite its flames dying down into softly glowing embers, allowing him to sleep in near-complete darkness. Although, I was sure any stray rays of sunlight wouldn't make a difference on his slumber – I didn't doubt that he was still deeply asleep and would remain so for quite some time. I moved closer to him quietly, and while he stirred slightly when I lay a reassuring hand upon his forehead, he did not wake completely. As expected, he predominately slept the clock around. He woke only on few occasions, and even then he did not remain conscious for long. He was lucid enough to ensure to us that he was otherwise well, but he sat up with great effort and said little. When he made eye contact with me, his exhaustion was plainly evident, his ordeal taking a great toll on him, but the steadiness of his gaze brought me great comfort in spite of everything else. I knew he was frustrated by his inactivity, but he had neither the strength nor the opportunity to voice his complaints. He remained rather cold, and shivered as he slept, but otherwise complained of nothing and remained in his place.

I recounted Erik's tale of what had happened to him the night before, the details of his attack and why the man pursued us in the first place. Madame swore under her breath, vaguely remembering Vito himself but vividly recalling the conditions from which Erik fled as a youth. She shook her head at the tragedy of it all – that after all these years Erik was still haunted by events beyond his control. She understood the necessity of the means by which he won his freedom, and could not fault him for that act of desperation. I knew her sentiment well – he was honest when he told me why he had to kill his tormentor, and I balked at the idea that such an act still didn't truly free him of his demons. Yet there wasn't much to be done then; we simply had to take new revelations in stride, come what may. Further discussion became nonexistent about the reality of our circumstances; whatever was in store for our future remained to be unseen and unconsidered.

From that point, Madame Giry, Meg, and I spent the day more or less uneventfully, attempting to use the illusion of normalcy to keep our collective fears and unease at bay; as we tended to various household necessities, the priority was to see to Erik's recovery. If we worried about anything beyond that, we'd surely drive ourselves mad trying to comprehend every possible scenario, every unknown factor that lie ahead as if in complete darkness. It was best to prioritize immediate concerns and keep our consciousness strictly in the moment. Yet bearing this in mind, I remained apprehensive, feeling as though some dark and foreboding thing loomed just beyond our shelter; any misstep I might have made surely would draw it back to us, and if I wasn't careful we'd all be undone. It was an absurd notion, to fear imaginary monsters as if the mere thought of them could make them appear, but my rattled nerves wouldn't allow me much reprieve from my active imagination. As long as Erik slept, I would worry silently, even unconsciously at times.

I needed to see him standing tall and strong to quell my fears, and more so to hear his voice again, for I knew that within his mind were the words that would comfort me. Although those words remained unknown, I knew that he alone held the key to my peace of mind.

~~oOo~~

Erik

I never knew such violent coldness until the blood was nearly drained entirely from my body; even in the gypsy camp, traveling long distances in the dead of winter with little else than the clothes on my back to protect me from biting winds and bitter cold, I didn't know truly what the sensation of ice running through my veins felt like until the night Vito shot me. Lying on Madame Giry's divan, huddled into myself to the best of my capacity, I shivered violently and woke often in the night thinking that I was actively freezing to death. In my delirious and half-drunken state, I was convinced that I might still die yet simply because the warmth of flames, blankets, and Christine's hand upon my brow would not be strong enough to penetrate the ice that sealed me in that frozen nightmare. Rationally, I knew blood-loss was the culprit to my extreme discomfort, but no reasoning could reach my clouded mind, and I spent the first night in Madame's home physically exhausted and internally terrified.

I was immensely grateful when morning came and, although I still held a chill that only I could feel in a household blessed with warmth, I was no worse for the wear and was granted a small reprieve from my suffering. I awoke shivering, hung-over, and weary, but less violently so on all accounts. Still, I could not bring myself to stay awake long, and the day following our attack was spent in a haze of the ladies of the apartment coaxing me out of my stupor if only to drink water and somehow assure them that I was maintaining a reasonable modicum of consciousness. To pull myself upright was exhausting, and speaking was out of the question, but I made a mighty effort above all else to look into Christine's eyes; aspects of the previous night were hazy, but I distinctly remembered promising her my unwavering dedication and protection, and I meant to convey that to her even in my weakness.

It was in remembering that promise that I felt more tangible motivation to break through the fog of pain and exhaustion and return to face the reality of our unexpectedly changed situation.

On the second day, I awoke to the rhythmic and steady rapping of rain against the window, although the sound of the weather was not what drew me from my slumber. I was wholly aware from the start of how badly shaken I was by the attack – I hadn't expected it at all in the first place, let alone for our pursuer to be someone so far removed from my present life that I had long ago put his existence out of mind. I was startled, however, to realize just how deeply the incident affected me. Where during the first hours of recovery I slept through the time in an otherwise dreamless state, as time went by and my mind began working at full capacity once again, I grew increasingly more restless and anxious at the memories of nearly being gunned down in cold blood. When I woke with a sharp gasp alone, shivering, and enveloped in the pale gray shimmer of an early dawn rainstorm, it was because of a nightmare that felt too real to be forgotten easily. Images swirled in my mind of the chaos and violence I endured for so long, I heard screams that threatened to deafen me – all at the hands of Vito.

I slowly began to realize that an old fear of him was creeping into my heart; that realization angered me beyond comprehension. For too long in my youth I fought to overcome the power he held over me. That he had undone the years of building resolve and courage left me feeling a stubborn rage deeply within myself that I could not keep quiet. Christine and I had come so far to finally be together; I wasn't going to let anything or anyone stand in our way when we were so close to freedom. I made up my mind then; I needed to go after Vito, to put an end to the chase once and for all. Whatever I had to do to keep him away, I would do – whether I had to intimidate him into submission or go as far as killing him myself didn't matter. I would not stand aside and wait for another encounter, either by chance or by his own doing – I knew the latter was the most likely, that he was as eager as I was to put an end to our long-coming standoff, and for far different, more malevolent reasons than my own.

Raindrops hammered against the window with an increasing intensity, driven on by a sudden and forceful wind that threatened to shake the apartment loose from its very foundation, the frenzy of it all reminding me scathingly of my inactivity. Always the impatient sort, I hated to remain sedentary. Although the hour was early and I was likely in no condition to be up and about, I made the mighty effort to rise from my makeshift bed and go through the motions of preparing for the day ahead of me. It was certainly no easy feat – my shoulder ached, my hands trembled, and on the whole I felt embarrassingly weak – but I managed to wrestle my way into presentable clothing. I decided that, if I could get through such mundane tasks, I would waste no time in preparing to leave and find Vito – perhaps that very night if possible. My mind remained sharp; I felt that was all I needed to face off with him, to outsmart him once again and put an end to his quest for vengeance.

When Madame Giry entered the sitting room to find me standing before the fire that I had coaxed into a powerful blaze once more, she gasped at the unexpected sight and proceeded to scold me for my stubbornness.

"So recently were you at death's door, and your reaction is to overexert yourself," she fussed.

"I would hardly call the other night a trip to death's door," I responded nonchalantly, but a hard look from her told me to tread cautiously and not make light of the event, even if doing so distracted me from my very real fears, "I'm quite alright now, at least."

"You should still be resting."

"I feel much better standing upright, thank you. I see no point in wasting away waiting for something to happen," I stated firmly, deciding that during that exchange I would need to make the head of the household aware of my plans, "I despise inactivity, you know, and I'm certainly doing myself no favors by lying about this apartment."

She huffed, "Indeed. And I daresay, with that attitude, I suppose you're doing us all a favor now. I, for one, am not up to listening to you griping about much needed rest. So, do what you must. If you find yourself hindered in your recovery because of your pigheadedness, don't blame me."

"I won't. Thank you," I said, relinquishing my bravado and looking directly at her in the hope of conveying my sincere gratitude once again. She had certainly earned more than my petulance, but for the moment I could only give her my simple thanks in the hopes that it would be enough.

She sighed and shook her head, but smiled, "Of course. It's good to see you up again. How do you feel? Are you in pain?"

"It's nothing I can't manage."

"Christine told me the details of what happened to you out there."

"Good. She's saved me the effort in explaining."

"You gave us quite a scare, you know."

"I'm well aware, but really I'd prefer to put it behind us now."

"Certainly."

"Are the girls alright? Are they awake yet?"

"They're both fine, and still asleep as far as I know. It's still early, mind you."

"Not everyone is an early-riser," I shrugged.

"You and I are alike in that way, as I'm sure you know. Up with the sun, ready to get right down to the business of the day."

"It's good that you mention that," I said in a more serious tone that quickly caught her attention, "I don't necessarily want to talk about the other night right now, but because of those events, things have changed for us."

"I'm aware," she responded gravely.

"I fear Christine and I shall be obliged to put off the journey to London for a time," I said, giving breath to the truth that had occurred to me many times since arriving at the apartment, "We need to hide out right now, until it's safe enough to travel again."

"You're staying here," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

I was taken aback, "That's not what I was suggesting. I truly cannot say how long we should have to remain in the city. I wouldn't impose upon you like that, Madame. And I won't put you or Meg in any danger in the meantime."

"Do you think we're in danger?"

I paused and considered before responding, "I doubt Vito will try to come this far into the city, but even so, after the other night I won't take unnecessary chances."

"I won't have it," she waved her hand dismissively, "You two are the safest here. I'd feel much better knowing that I can be here to protect you – "

"– Madame – "

"- Not to mention, you two have no business gallivanting about the city unchaperoned," I rolled my eyes as she looked sternly at me and went on, "I won't hear of it. It's inappropriate for an unmarried couple. For Heaven's sake, you aren't even engaged."

"That will happen soon enough," I protested, and as I spoke Madame and I turned our heads simultaneously to a sudden shuffling in the hallway, but I discounted the noise and continued, "Don't steal my thunder, Madame, certain events will occur in due time, I assure you. I should like to not have the surprise ruined. Before then, I have business of my own to attend to."

She raised an eyebrow at my evasive admission, "Such as?"

I sighed, "I have to find Vito," another sound from the hallway, "As soon as possible. I have to put an end to this."

"You cannot be serious. How many bullets do you want me to take from your flesh, Erik?"

"I won't be caught unawares, this time. I won't let him try to hunt us down again, I have to do something before there's any chance of this situation getting worse."

"Foolish man, you're throwing yourself right into the lion's den. This is a mistake, this whole idea of pursuing your enemy. Really, you're acting far too hastily. You're hardly recovered as it is."

"I'm fine, Madame."

"I just cannot condone – oh, for goodness sake, I hear you out there. Come out, now, the both of you!"

Two figures emerged slowly from the protective shadows of their hiding place, caught in the act of listening in on a conversation in which they were not intended to be involved – Meg appeared sheepish before her mother, Christine gazed intently at me. Damn, I thought, cursing myself for not being more aware of my surroundings, for hearing the disturbance in the otherwise peaceful air and ignoring it. I had intended to speak to Christine directly on the matter, just the two of us; for her to learn of my plans completely by accident on my part surely would yield no positive outcome – she certainly would not be in favor of that particular excursion, not without a proper explanation at the very least. I saw both anger and concern amid a tinge of hurt behind her eyes, but I resolved to remain as calm and indifferent for the moment as possible.

"You two know better than this," Madame Giry fumed, "Eavesdropping, how disgraceful. Hadn't I taught you better as girls? You are no longer in the ballet, you know."

"I apologize, Maman, Erik," Meg said with a soft sincerity.

"I, as well," Christine said evenly before continuing, "But Madame, if you don't mind, in light of recent revelations I'd like to speak with my suitor alone."

I flinched at her blunt and formal directness.

"As you wish," Madame Giry said, "Maybe you can talk some sense into this one. Come with me Meg, let us give them their privacy."

The Girys left the room, leaving a silence in their wake that was palpable. Christine and I looked at each other a long time, neither of us moving from our respective positions in the space. The clock ticked away on the mantelpiece as the fire crackled away beneath it, the storm raged on outside in an increasing cacophony that might have been intimidating had we paid it any mind, but we did not speak initially. I regretted the turn of events, that we had hardly been granted a proper reunion since having to part ways after I was obliged to slip into unconsciousness, but with the truth out in the open, I was determined to stand my ground. I would let her say her peace, but I had already decided what needed to be done, as much as I hated to bring further conflict into our lives.

"A good morning to you, mademoiselle," I said at length with an exaggerated bow.

"What are you doing, Erik?" she asked intensely, ignoring my insensitivity.

"Don't you already know?" I bit back, speaking more harshly than intended, "Didn't you hear enough from your vantage point?"

"Spare me. We didn't intend to eavesdrop like that, like misbehaving children," she said haughtily, "We couldn't find an opportune moment to cut in to the conversation."

"The polite thing to do, then, is to leave and come back later."

"I don't think you, of all people, are in a position to tell me that eavesdropping is inappropriate, Monsieur le Fantome."

"Touché," I said, stifling a grin at her stubborn determination to best me, then sighed, "Christine, I'm sorry that you found out this way. Know that I was going to discuss this with you – "

"When you came back bleeding once again?"

I shook my head, growing annoyed, "You act as though I sought out the last attack. As you well know, I do not plan to be ambushed this time."

"What do you plan to do, then?"

"Seek him out and end this. It is as simple as that, darling."

"It's too dangerous, Erik."

"It's too dangerous to try and move on from here with him still after us. He's not going to give up, trust me. I might have been able to incapacitate him before, but that was a temporary solution to make it out of there with my life. It does not mean he'll give up his pursuit, and I have to do anything and everything I can to stop him."

"I think Madame Giry was right, you're acting rashly. That hastiness won't do you any good. Please, you really only just woke up, give yourself time and think about this before you go out there again."

"I'm not acting rashly, I'm doing what needs to be done. I have to."

"But your shoulder – "

"– Will be fine. I'm not worried about old injuries."

"Look down!" she nearly shouted, "You still wear the sling, the reminder that such injuries are certainly not old. Even if you were in a better physical condition, what good can come of this? Truly?"

"Freedom," I stated flatly, "We will not be cornered a second time. I will not have us spend our lives looking over our shoulders, nor will I let him rein power over me any longer. Not again."

"So that's part of what this is about? Your pride?"

"It goes far beyond that. We're so close to letting go of the past, starting anew. It's just as you wanted, just as I've come to realize I've so desired after fighting myself for so long. Think of how long it took you to convince me that going on together was the best choice for us. I don't take that for granted, and I won't let it go now. We're finally ready to face the unknown, that grand idea that's come to drive us onward, and I won't let anything stand in our way. Vito is a very real threat to us now, a threat I had thought long-gone. The past cannot be allowed to come back to haunt us."

"Then don't allow it. Let this alone, Erik, please. You're only serving to tempt fate. Don't let him win by going back to face him. I don't doubt that he threatens us, that he means to end you, and I don't want to find out how dedicated he is to that."

"I will not meet my end by his hand," I said with persistent stubbornness.

"Don't you want to be with me?" she asked abruptly.

I narrowed my eyes in confusion, "Of course. Why would you even question such a thing?"

"Because your intended actions will pull you away from me, tear you from my life again. And this time, if he wins, I won't get you back," she said, looking so terrified that I longed to break my determined stance and reach out to her.

"Christine – "

"Don't go after him, or – "

"Or what?" I snapped, suddenly feeling defensive, "Is this the ultimatum, then? Don't go after him or you'll leave?"

"Or you'll risk giving up everything we've fought so hard for," she said evenly, "We've only just gotten our lives back, Erik. Don't throw it all away now."

She looked at me, head held high and shoulders squared in a posture of ultimate determination, before finally turning away and leaving the room altogether. The silence returned once more, interrupted only by the ticking clock, the steady rainfall, and my own turbulent thoughts.

~~oOo~~

My mind raced back and forth on my resolve, screaming incessantly – I could think of nothing but revenge, defense, freedom, and every possible outcome of my pursuit.

There was nothing much I could do with myself beyond pacing like a caged animal. I had too much energy, it seemed; where so recently I had been utterly incapacitated, after my resolve to find Vito and the subsequent conversation with Christine, I felt that I could not move fast enough around the small apartment. I was torn between inaction and defeat, or the guarantee of safety at the removal of my old foe from my life once and for all by means of risking my life in the effort. Either way, I didn't like my options. Christine was right, of course. The very idea of seeking out and confronting the person that himself violently sought my demise was foolhardy to say the least. I wasn't irrational enough to think that there would be no risk involved; my shoulder proved to be my biggest hurtle, my range of motion starkly limited. Even if I wasn't injured, I had to admit that Vito was the one person that could have potentially bested me if it came down to a physical altercation. Where I was strategic and quick to calculated action, he was prone to abrupt reactions. A clash between the two of us would be unpredictable, his flaws potentially enough to make him more dangerous if I lost control of the situation for even the briefest of moments.

Yet allowing Vito to go on living guaranteed that he would not rest until he caught up to us again. An attack by him was inevitable, I was sure, and my instincts told me that our coming to blows once again after allowing his hatred to simmer would end in disaster one way or another. His sights were set on me, but worse, he knew about Christine's deep involvement in my life; that factor alone struck me with horror. It was one thing to come after me in the spirit of vengeance, but Christine was targeted simply because of her association to me. I could not come to terms with that, could not go on with my life if she was hurt because of me. I had sworn to protect her – it was my duty to fight for the woman I loved. I wanted more than anything to be her husband, one that she deserved beyond a shadow of a doubt, and she deserved every sacrifice I could offer. Every part of me, from the time I first laid eyes upon her, cried out to protect her at all costs. That protectiveness giving way to love, one we fought intensely to define and keep, only strengthened my sense of duty. I kept telling myself that we had come too far to risk allowing one vengeful man to take from us everything we held dear – so long as he remained at large, we were in danger.

It seemed as though we would not win no matter what I chose to do. But still I could not allow us to be defeated by the ghosts of my past – my action was imperative. Somehow I had to fight back, and do so in a way that ensured victory in the end.

And yet something held me back, caused my resolve to falter more steadfastly.

I sighed. There was much more to the situation at hand than was immediately apparent. I had to admit it to myself; I couldn't continue on my stubborn path any longer, trying to convince myself that I was fighting for something bigger than ourselves. I was fighting for her safety and our ultimate freedom, to be sure, but I could not deny her reasoning, as hard as I tried to find the most logical and noble response to it. I suddenly realized that if I were truly to be deserving of her heart, of the privilege of calling myself her husband, then I had to stop thinking as one entity. From then on, I knew, my decisions had to be based upon more than hasty calls to action. We had to act as one. It was time for me to start learning that, to apply that knowledge to our lives. I knew then that, if I didn't take heed to that singular moment of clarity, then regardless of the best of my intentions, I could still lose her, could still lose my life and render our struggles to be in vain.

I would give my life for her if it came down to it, but I had to learn to choose my battles wisely.