I used my own experience of months of pregnancy-induced vomiting and one bout of terrible seasickness for this chapter, as well as watching videos on YouTube of real storms aboard cruise ships. I made myself gag while writing this. You're welcome!

Chapter 21

Oh god! I'm gonna puke!

She tried to get to somewhere else; she really did. The downstairs bathroom was too far away, but she might've been able to make it to the tiny sink by the bar. However, as soon as she attempted to stand, her world pitched to the side, and she was throwing up before she even made it to her hands and knees.

The sudden stench hit her hard, the feeling of partially digested food in her mouth causing her to vomit again, adding to the spreading pile before her near the balcony door.

She was aware of strong hands pulling her hair tight at the back of her head. Oh right, Erik had been massaging her neck, and now he was holding her hair away from the mess on her face. She finally made it to her knees, her hands slipping in the sick. She fought to take in shaky breaths, her eyes clenched shut because if she saw the puddle before her, she'd lose it again.

"Can you stand?" Erik asked, his voice calm and soothing.

She moaned in agony. The vomiting had pushed out tears and snot, and she had never felt more pathetic than she did then. She hadn't thrown up since her last treatment of chemo well over a year ago, and it was an experience she hoped to never replicate.

Not waiting any longer for a response, he scooped her into his arms, managing to keep her hair cascading over his elbow instead of into her face. She had seen him move quickly before, but the trip into her bedroom seemed to take mere seconds. He deposited her gently onto her feet near the sink, turning on the tap so she could rinse out her mouth and brush her teeth, the first thing she wanted to do after washing her hands. She also scrubbed clean her face and arms to her elbows while Erik hovered nearby.

The activity was too much, and she sank to the bathroom floor, the tile cold beneath her. She fought the nausea for what seemed like ages, heard the pop of Erik's knees as he crouched next to her.

"Christine, your clothes. You need to change."

He was right – she could smell the bile. But it was all she could do to stay calm, to continue to breathe in and out steadily. How could she possibly go through the complicated motions of changing? The mere thought of pulling her own arms out of her shirt seemed overwhelming.

And always, the swaying of the ship continued, a never-ending tilt and dip that had even closed the door behind them.

"I can't," she said, a sob following her admission. She hated this helplessness, which tossed her back to her months of treatment, the days when she hadn't been able to hold a cup of water on her own. Afterward, she had wanted to be nothing but strong, to take care of herself.

And yet, hadn't Erik been there since they met, willing to help her in any way she needed? The first day they met, he had carried her, bandaged her sprained ankle, and brought her food and water.

And she knew he would help her now.

But the asking for assistance was so, so difficult. She dug the heels of her palms into her eyes as more tears flowed. "Could – could you help me? Please?"

There was silence, followed by the hoarseness of his voice saying, "If you do not mind."

She shook her head, unable to open her eyes to look at him. She leaned against the tub as he left to find her pajamas, bringing back the pants she had worn last night and a fresh t-shirt from her drawer. He didn't speak as he helped her undress except to give gentle instructions, which were few. Mostly, his cool touch guided her, letting her know when to raise or lower an arm, when to duck her head.

The cold air hit her bare skin as he maneuvered her blouse over her head without getting the mess on her. She knew what he could see in the bright light of the bathroom: her plain, beige-colored bra, the two triangles filled with the silicone breasts that did not quite cover up her scars. She shivered and folded her arms across herself, but soon he was offering the clean t-shirt to her, guiding her arms through the holes and tugging it over her head.

"My dear, your pants."

Oh right. She could feel the dampness on her knees, and she had to get them off. She managed to unlatch the button, unzip them, and tug them down to her thighs, so thankful to have worn underwear that day that covered her well. Was it cute, though? She couldn't remember, and she couldn't look as the next pitch of the ship sent her vision swimming once again. Cuteness was the last thing she should worry about right now.

She was cold and sweating at the same time, and so done with sitting on this hard floor. She began to cry again at the ridiculousness of it all.

Erik pressed a wet washcloth into her hands, and she covered her eyes with it, enjoying the warmth for a moment. Then she felt him begin to tug her pants the rest of the way down her legs, his long fingers wrapping around one calf and then the other as he eased her feet free of the material. He washed and dried her knees with gentle caresses of cloth, and the scent of vomit began to ease from the room.

With an ease that showed his strength, he picked her up once more and laid her in bed. The mattress dipped around her with his weight. He slid the legs of her pajama pants to her knees, paused for a long moment, and pulled them high until they caught on the rise of her bottom.

"Christine," he said, his tone begging.

She cracked her eyes open to see him hovering over her on the bed, his own golden gaze wide with barely concealed panic. Flinging her arms around his neck, she yanked him down until he was flush with her body, not caring that her pants were still around her thighs. She hoped she was whispering "I love you" in his ear because that was what her mind had put together. I love you, I love you, I love you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. She kissed his neck above his bow tie because that was all she could reach without moving more.

He shifted next to her, and with a sudden force she thought was born of desperation, hooked his thumb into her pants and tugged them over her bottom and to her waist.

Their bodies lurched sideways in the bed with the force of a sudden wave that lifted the front of the ship and sent them crashing down across the curve of water. Christine groaned and clung to Erik. Was she not able to rest even while in bed? Maybe she should sleep on the floor of the bathroom after all.

When he pulled away from her, she sobbed, "Don't leave me!"

"Only for a moment," he promised. "Nadir has returned." She hadn't even heard the knock on the door, her senses focused on the deep pings of the ship's hull.

Mere moments stretched into an eternity before Erik came back. He clicked on a nearby light and dug into a grocery bag Nadir must have given him.

"She can't keep these down," Erik said, voice sharp, and she realized he wasn't speaking to her. Nadir had followed him into the room, and she tried to smile weakly at him. His lined face was the picture of concern.

"Try the patch," Nadir said, showing him a different package. "It will take hours to become effective, but it will last several days."

Erik pressed something behind Christine's right ear and stroked her hair.

Nadir sighed. "Besides that, there is not much we can do besides wait. Once she is able, she can sip on the ginger ale. Don't let her have anything but bland food tomorrow."

"You are staying tonight."

"Am I?"

"Knowing you, you are likely to fall on your long trek back to your cabin and break your neck. Stay in the extra room until the storm has calmed."

Christine saw the warm look Nadir gave the other man before he nodded and murmured goodnight to them both. "I will clean the mess," he said at the edge of the curtain. "Stay focused on her."

Erik told Christine he would return quickly, and he followed Nadir out of the room. While she waited, she continued to fight with the roll of the ship, grasping the sheet beneath her to try to stay still. How could she possibly sleep if she had to hold on for dear life all night? She felt a sob well up again and swallowed it down.

Erik soon came back. She caught glimpses of him moving the nightstand between the bed and the wall of the bathroom, carrying off the lamp as well. "Hold on," he told her, and he was shoving the bed against the wall with a force that seemed inhuman.

Then he was climbing back into bed, his body pressing against hers without hesitation, pulling her into his arms, and he was clad once again in the silk pajamas she had bought him. His cold feet briefly touched hers as he shifted, his upper body stretching away for a moment. She realized he had set his mask on the remaining nightstand at his back.

And he was again around her, comforting her with the magnitude of his presence. The blankets were pulled over both of them, and then he scooted her backward until her back was pressed against the wall. The wall behind her, her man before her, Christine found herself in a cocoon that allowed her to finally loosen her hold on the sheets. She sagged against him, fought a rush of tears, and failed to still them.

His lips pressed to her forehead, her cheek, her nose. His free hand danced up and down her back.

She couldn't stand it any longer, the dig of her bra into her tender skin, especially sandwiched the way she was. "Erik," she choked out. "I need to take this off." She tugged on her bra strap to show him what she meant.

The hand on her back stilled at once. If he forced her to explain or ask further for help, she wasn't sure what she would do beyond fall further into pieces. Instead, that hand drifted to the bottom of her shirt, dipped under it, and found its way in the dark to the strap across her back. He unlatched it with sure fingers, pulled his hand free of her shirt, and found the strap on her shoulder, sliding it down and off her arm. She rolled onto her back so he could do the same to the other strap.

Suddenly, she was released from the confines, the garment falling with the weight of the silicone to the side of her shirt. She moved to pull the bra out, but Erik's hand was quicker, sliding across the bare skin of her belly until he located the edge of the undergarment. He dragged it free, and he was shifting across the bed, laying it across the dresser.

She held her breath as he returned, but she needn't have feared. He swept her into his arms once again, his hand finding the smooth, unencumbered expanse of her back.

Over time, she felt her heartbeat begin to slow, her own hands smoothing over his shirt instead of gripping it tightly. She could feel ridges of raised scars scattered across the muscles of his back, and for some reason, the reminder of his past helped keep her focused on the present instead of giving herself over to the rocking of the ship yet again.

She wanted to map his scarred face with her fingertips, but that side was tucked against his pillow. Finally, she felt steady enough to speak. "Do you need to change your bandage? What about your face?"

She felt rather than heard a low, rumbling chuckle from him. "Here you are, unable to care even for yourself, and you still think of me. No, my dear, I am fine. I changed it myself earlier, and last night without my mask did wonders for my face."

He kissed the top of her head, and to her delight, began to sing softly. Sometimes he spoke words mingled in the music; sometimes he drew out notes that needed no language to convey emotion. His hands waltzed over her back, matching the slow rhythms. She tucked her face against him, her ear close to his throat, and listened to the vibrations that came from deep within him.

Christine managed to doze on and off throughout the night. Whenever she woke, Erik was there, coaxing her back to sleep with song and touch. When the first bit of daylight peaked through the curtain, she tried to sit up and started gagging. He gave her sips of ginger ale and a few saltines that helped to calm her empty stomach.

Once she had woken up more, Erik drew back the heavy bedroom curtain all of the way, opening her room to the rest of the cabin. He also pulled back the curtains covering the windows, letting in the overcast light but also ensuring that she had direct line of sight to the horizon upstairs as well as down. He was a flurry of activity after he changed back into regular clothes and replaced his mask, setting her up in an armchair upstairs near the window, closer to the bathroom than she would be downstairs.

Christine felt a little self-conscious staying in her pajamas for most of the day, but she couldn't possibly muster up enough energy to shower and change. Her bra lay stretched across the dresser where Erik had left it, and as soon as she got a moment to herself, she slid it into a drawer. After he settled her into a chair, Erik tucked a blanket around her, and that made her feel more secure, letting her hide her flat chest.

Nadir emerged at one point from the guest bedroom, looking disheveled in the rumpled brown suit he had slept in. He waved up at her when he saw her. Then he just stood in the middle of the room for a long moment, appearing to zone out. Apparently he hadn't slept well either.

Erik, who was downstairs fetching her a piece of toast from the breakfast cart, went to his side. The two men spoke in low tones where she couldn't hear, and Nadir reacted by nodding. Whatever it was they talked about, they parted amicably.

By the late morning, the captain had lifted the restriction that kept all passengers in their rooms, so Nadir was free to head back to his own cabin. When he came upstairs to say goodbye to her, with the promise to check in tomorrow, he looked beyond ready for a shower and a nap. He bent down and patted her knee. She grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze.

Surprisingly, Erik didn't frown at the affection passed between them, which Christine saw as huge progress.

Besides that, she mostly dozed the day away. Erik tried to entertain her with reading more from the novel he had started yesterday, but often she was so drained or queasy that she couldn't concentrate enough to follow the plot. Sometimes she would hear piano drift up from downstairs. Once, she found herself back in bed, tucked warmly in the blankets, and she had napped away almost two hours.

After that, she tried to eat a little, for it was nearing dinner and she was beginning to feel hunger pains. However, the rice was too salty and the chicken too flavorful, and she could only take a few bites before she pushed back the plate. At least she managed to make it to the bathroom this time, and she didn't have much to upchuck.

By the time the sun had almost vanished below the horizon, the choppy waters were beginning to finally ease, no longer the size of two-story houses. Fog had rolled in, coating everything in a soft, billowy white.

When Erik joined her in bed that night, she buried her face in his chest in a position that was now becoming well-known. He smelled differently, the silk having a slight lavender scent. She pulled back enough to frown up at him.

"Did you do laundry?" she asked, her throat sore.

"The butler sent them off. Your clothes as well."

"Ah."

She settled back into the comfort of his arms.

And day four of their journey passed.

She slept fitfully that night as well, and even though Erik didn't leave her side, she could tell he was more on edge. She didn't throw up at all overnight, but her body felt heavy and sore, like she had spent too much time lying about in the same positions.

That morning, for the first time since she had gotten seasick, she decided to come downstairs. She put on her long robe, a thick, ratty old thing that she really needed to replace, and let Erik carry her to the lower level. She wanted a little fresh air, and insisted on going out on the balcony despite Erik's protest.

The storm had ushered in cold air, which actually felt good as the breeze pushed through her hair. The sea was much calmer than it had been last night, although she could tell it had rained again at some point. She reclined on one of the lounge chairs while Erik lingered in the doorway. What she wouldn't give for a little sunshine to bring some color back to her skin. If it wasn't raining, maybe she could try out the hot tub tomorrow, if she thought she wouldn't try to pass out.

More than anything, she felt weak. She had barely eaten in almost two days, and she could tell she had lost a little weight. At least now she was able to keep fluids down, so Nadir had stopped threatening to call an onboard nurse.

Even so, she could sense the tension in Erik. He had barely left her side this whole time, and he clearly hadn't been resting as much as he should. She had an idea of how to get him out of her hair for a little while, so she twisted around a bit to grin at him.

"I want to take a bath."

His eyes went round, what she now knew was his way of showing her that she had just freaked him out. She doubted he even knew how expressive his face could be sometimes.

She continued easily, "If you can get me upstairs, I'm pretty sure I can handle it. You can go off and do something on your own for an hour or so." Perfect plan, she thought.

He visibly swallowed and nodded. "Now?"

"Now," she agreed.

He picked her up – she didn't bother protesting this as she knew walking up those steps would drain her – and deposited her in the master bathroom. He shifted his feet.

"Do you need anything else?"

"No," she said, shooing him out gently. "I'll be fine. Go relax. Shower, change, do whatever."

He bent and kissed her, now such a common occurrence that she had already tilted her face up for it, and left the room, closing the curtain around the bedroom before he headed back downstairs.

Moving slowly so she didn't wear herself out, she gathered a change of clothes – real clothes, along with her bra – and took them into the bathroom. She ran the water as hot as she thought she could stand it and dumped in a bit of the rose-scented bubble bath she had found.

She managed to shed her pajamas, and she wrinkled her nose at the smell of her own body. She hated to think she had been in this sort of shape around Erik. After days of sweat, puke, and little else, she was in desperate need of a long bath.

The water felt heavenly against her skin. She soaked for a long time, resting her head against the back of the large tub and letting her legs float for a bit. In hindsight, she shouldn't have pushed herself, but after cleaning her body, she decided to shave, needing to get rid of the itchiness on her legs. The bending and twisting proved to be too much activity, and she began to feel dizzy.

Pulling the drain, she rinsed herself off and grabbed the towel nearby. She dried off her arms, torso, and most of her legs, and wound the large towel around her middle, tucking the end so it would stay. As she stepped out of the tub, the wooziness grew worse. She shouldn't have made the bath so hot or stayed so long, and the now familiar buzzing grew louder in her ears.

If she didn't hurry up, she was going to pass out in the tub. She tried to move too quickly, and when her second foot hit the wet tile, she slipped. With a yelp, she fell backwards onto her behind, hitting the back of her head on the lip of the tub.

For a second, her vision grayed.

Seconds later, the door sprang open. Erik stood there, panting, his face wild. He was dressed but his shirt was only half buttoned. He wore no mask or wig.

His sudden intrusion startled her, and she shrieked again. She immediately wanted to take it back at the way his posture changed, one of his hands coming up to clutch at his twisted cheek. But his concern for her overrode any instinct to flee because he quickly knelt at her side.

"What happened?"

"I almost fainted," she said. "I hit my head."

"Where?"

She bent forward and let him replace her fingers with his own. He felt around the curve of her scalp, pressed against a lump that was forming there, and she winced. She tried to tug down the towel that had hiked up around her thighs with no success.

"I'll be okay," she assured him. "I'm okay."

His jaw bulged under the force of his clenched teeth. "I should have been here."

"I said I'm okay, Erik."

"No, I should have been here!"

"Erik-" She raised up to touch his twisted flesh, but he jerked out of her reach.

Without looking at her, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. She kept a grip on the towel, but more out of habit than any kind of fear. Instead of setting her onto the mattress like she expected, he sat down with her across his lap and hid his face into the crook of her neck and shoulder. His breath was harsh and hot against her skin, his grip tight around her. She managed to free one arm and petted his bare scalp, thrilled to be able to feel his own soft hair again, if even under such circumstances.

He didn't speak again, and she didn't press him. This seemed to involve more than just her fall in the bathroom, and she hoped he would open up to her when he was ready. Despite her vulnerable position of being in only a towel on his lap, he made no move to touch her beyond hugging her tightly, not even kissing her.

He felt distant for the rest of the day. While he went through the motions of trying to entertain her like yesterday, his mind seemed far away. When it was time for bed, he didn't join her immediately, instead saying he needed to speak with Nadir for a while. He must have used a phone in the downstairs bedroom because she didn't hear him speaking.

She laid in the darkness by herself for a long time before she fell into a restless sleep. Hours later, the bed dipped as he finally joined her. She didn't remark on his absence. Although he did remove his mask and wore his pajamas, he made no move to touch her at first.

She couldn't stand the distance between them, the bed far too large, and found him in the darkness. He was lying on his back, his body unyielding. She snaked a hand across the dip of his stomach and tucked herself against him.

"Hold me, please," she whispered to the dark.

And he did, silky arms coming around her. She sighed and began to relax back into sleep. For now, this was enough.

Warning (or a promise?): the next chapter ventures into M territory. I did warn of this at the very beginning of the fic, so I hope you are expecting it. :)