OK, here it is. I cried when I wrote this chapter. Poor Rosalie. :(
21. A Broken Soul
Rahim Bellamy's brilliant surprise for Erik and Rosalie was a night for which the couple would always be grateful. Their time at the bridge served to make them feel closer than ever before. Knowing that there was a physical monument that would last beyond their current torment added a sense of permanence to their love. The vows they spoke to one another that night were more binding in their hearts than any recited before an altar or at town hall. Their commitment was true, and each knew that death had no power to destroy that.
And yet, Erik's condition continued to deteriorate. Every day, he would cough more and more, and though he was always quick to cover his mouth with a handkerchief, Rosalie could see the stains of red that would often appear on the white cloth. Though Erik was careful to always wear a smile in her presence, she noticed the grimaces of pain that would emerge on his face when he thought he was alone. Even just shifting positions seemed to distress him, and Rosalie did her best to let him lean on her as much as he could. Standing was difficult for him, so they spent most of their time on the sofa, reading or talking. Even snuggling too close, could sometimes prove challenging, since certain positions put too much pressure on Erik's lungs and would cause him to struggle for air.
Yet they found ways to make it work. The physical connection between them was vital. Rosalie absolutely needed to feel that he was still there. So their kisses and caresses, though always gentle, came frequently, and Rosalie spent long moments memorizing the feeling of his hands, the soft pressure of his lips, locking the sensations away in her heart for the days when they would be only memories.
In the evenings, they would still spend some time at the piano, although less now, since Erik became very easily fatigued. He would sit on the bench and play and she would stand behind him, subtly supporting his back, her hands resting on his shoulders. She loved the way they moved within her gentle grasp as his fingers traversed the piano keys. Though their songs were much simpler now, when they sang together, Rosalie was completely at peace for a few short moments. She always felt that through music they could touch each other's cores, becoming one through song, the way they could not with their bodies because of the illness. Music was, as it had always been, their great connector, tying them to one another in an even more elemental way than their physical shows of affection.
Yet the evening came when even those brief moments of peace were taken away from her. It had been a particularly hard day. Erik's coughing had not seemed to respond well to either the medicine or the tea. Though his expression remained cautiously pleasant, Rosalie could tell by the way he carried himself that his chest was aching greatly. And yet, he had drawn her to the piano like they did every night, knowing that their nightly ritual brought them both great comfort and joy. Erik's fingers began their journey on the piano keys, but when it was time to sing, his voice did not issue forth-only a pitiful, dry, rasping sound that resembled one of his coughs more than his singing. He tried once more, and this time he did cough, causing him to quickly press his handkerchief to his mouth. Rosalie knelt down beside him and rubbed his back, trying to soothe the coughing, taking one of his hands in her's. "Now I know, how Carlotta felt that night I hit her with the toad spray." Erik commented, breathlessly, when the coughing fit was finally over, trying to add some levity to the situation, "Maybe that wasn't very nice of me after all."
Rosalie indulged him with rolled eyes and a crooked grin at his joke, saying, "Come on, Maestro, let's get you to bed." Rosalie helped him rise from the piano bench, and kept her arm around his waist as they walked to the bedroom. She helped him change into his black satin pajamas and eased him down onto the bed, taking her place next to him. After exchanging I love yous and kissing each other sweetly good night, Erik rolled onto his side, and Rosalie wrapped her arms around him, snuggling him close, so that her body heat could help calm his aching lungs. She held him close through a few more quiet coughs, and hummed to him softly as he drifted off finally to a peaceful sleep.
But sleep would not come for Rosalie. She tried to focus on Erik-on the soothing warmth coming from his body, on the scent of his hair, just the feeling of nearness that was so precious to her. But tonight, it didn't help. Inside she was dying. Watching her love, her Erik, so weak and so frail was killing her as sure as the cancer was killing him. Not being able to do anything about it-not even trying any of the medical procedures-was tearing her apart inside. Little by little, everything she loved, everything she lived for was slipping away from her, and no matter how tightly she held on, she was going to have to let go. She was losing him. She was losing her Erik. And there wasn't anything she could do about it.
Suddenly, she felt herself trembling, and she knew that she had to get out of bed before she woke him. He would want to know what was wrong, and she just didn't think she could find the strength to pull it all together for him at that moment. Though her heart protested at the thought of disentangling from their embrace, Rosalie unwrapped her arms from his body and slid out of the bed. Pulling on her robe, she walked out of the bedroom and closed the door.
Rosalie paced the floor of the room by the lake, the rushing water echoing the storm blowing through her mind. She felt like throwing things, she felt like breaking things-anything to quell this rage inside her. How could this be happening to him? Erik was being stripped of everything that made him him. His tall stature was now diminished, since he could no longer stand without leaning. He was losing his taste for his favorite foods, only the heat from the tea bringing him any measure of satisfaction. He couldn't visit his opera anymore, the stairs becoming unnavigable, and the boat too uncomfortable and too hard for him to row. And now he couldn't sing. His magical, perfect voice was now gone-a casualty of the disease. Erik was music-and now with the music gone, how much longer before. . .?
Rosalie closed her eyes and pulled at her hair, as if trying to pull her next thoughts out of her mind before she could think them. But to no avail.
How long before it would all be over? How long before he was gone and she was once again, all alone, never again to feel whole? She opened her eyes and looked at the room around her. This was the room where she first felt his arms around her, protecting her from falling. Without Erik, she knew there would no longer be anyone there to stop her descent into the darkness.
Rosalie walked over to his beloved piano. She caressed its surface lovingly, remembering all the times his fingers had danced across the keys and created a world of such glorious music. She sat down on the bench where he so often sat, and she rested her fingers on the ivory he so often commanded. She pressed down on a few of the keys aimlessly, loving the sounds, knowing she desperately needed the release that music would bring. Consciously trying not to wake Erik, Rosalie softly began to play-randomly at first, but soon her fingers led her into a song and before long, she began to sing.
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Erik awoke with a cough, feeling cold air surrounding him. He turned to see that Rosalie was not there. Before long, he heard the soft tinkles of the piano keys and knew she must not have been able to sleep. The coughing fit had bothered her far more than she had let on. She had smiled while helping him to bed, but he could read the desperation in her eyes. He was dying and she knew it. She tried to be calm and remain positive, but he knew that the last few days had been hard on her. He rose to check on her, pulling on a robe against the cold, as he slowly yet quietly opened the bedroom door. And that was when he heard her voice begin to sing.
I will wander 'til the end of time, torn away from you.
I turn away to face the pain.
I close my eyes and drift away.
Away from the fear that I will never find
A way to heal my soul.
And I will wander 'til the end of time
Torn away from you.
My heart is broken
Sweet sleep, my dark angel
Deliver us from sorrow's hold
Daggers pierced Erik's heart to hear Rosalie sing of such pain. Were these the secret thoughts she did not share with him? They sounded so familiar, echos of his former pain that Rosalie herself had healed. Had he now inflicted his pain upon her?
I can't go on living this way
But I can't go back the way I came
Chained to this fear that I will never find
A way to heal my soul
And I will wander 'til the end of time
Half alive without you
Oh his Rose was too much like him! And that knowledge terrified him. He did not want her to go through this. This was the fate he had been trying to avoid for her, by begging Death to give him just a little more time. Time to be with her. Time to say goodbye. He had hoped that if she had time to get used to the idea of him dying, if they could have some blissful time alone together beforehand, it would be easier-that she wouldn't just fall apart, like he had years ago. But her next words proved him wrong.
Open your eyes to the light
I denied it all so long, but I don't want to
Say goodbye, goodbye.
The last declaration was strong, yet pitiful, and her hands were now still on the piano, as she breathed out her final, desperate plea.
My heart is broken
Release me, I can't hold on
Deliver us
My heart is broken
Sweet sleep, my dark angel
Deliver us from sorrow's hold
Rosalie's head hung before her as sobs shook her body violently. Erik finally understood that Death would have been far more merciful if he had just taken him the night of the gala, violently and suddenly. This time he'd begged for, this time with Rosalie to prepare her had destroyed her. Watching him waste away had hollowed out her spirit, leaving her nothing but an empty shell. He had broken her heart, broken her soul. In his foolish desire to protect her from pain, he had done to her exactly what Christine had done to him. In his mind, he heard the whispery echoes of Death's warning. "It is not my hold over her that will destroy her-it is yours."
He walked swiftly over to Rosalie, and kneeling down, scooped her into his arms. He pulled her down onto his lap, and he just held her tightly, rocking gently back and forth, as she continued to sob, stroking her hair, whispering to her that he loved her, knowing that each tear was falling because he caused it. It was breaking him inside, but there was no way he would let her see it. She had been strong for him from the moment she met him-from the moment she took that trip into the unknown of his lair, after hearing a strange voice calling out to her in the dark theater; from the moment she kissed his twisted, tortured face when he'd unmasked himself the first time. She had spent this entire month, trying so hard to bolster him up, while he had unwittingly been tearing her down. Tonight that all had to change.
When she was calm, and the sobbing had stopped, he kissed her lips, deeply and fully and drew her over to the sofa. "I'll be right back," he said, as he went into the kitchen to make her some tea. He reached into the cupboard and found the small vial of sleeping potion he had hidden away there long ago. It was completely harmless, but it would force Rosalie to sleep-and they both needed that desperately right now.
Erik came back to her with two cups of tea in his hand, and Rosalie immediately began to protest. "Erik, why didn't you tell me you needed some tea? I could have brewed it."
"Shhh" he said handing her her cup and sitting down beside her. "You have been doing nothing but taking care of me. Allow me this small pleasure of taking care of you."
Rosalie chuckled slightly and said "Thank you," taking the first sip of her tea. "I'm sorry I woke you."
"Rose, don't say you're sorry." Erik shook his head, in understanding. "You needed that time, that music."
"But you needed your rest more."
"Shhh. We will rest when we're finished with our tea. We're going to go back to our bed, and I will hold you tonight."
"But what about your back? When I hold you it soothes your back."
"Having my arms around you will soothe my heart." He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Rosalie, I'm sorry for how I've been making you feel lately."
Rosalie looked at him, sheepishly, "It's not you, Erik. You must know that. It's the disease."
Erik chose his next words carefully. "I know my decision not to pursue treatment has been weighing on you." Erik could feel her stiffen, and knew that his words rang true. "Rosalie, talk to me," he entreated, looking directly in her eyes.
"I just wish," Rosalie began, her voice weak and trembling, but gaining in power as she went on. "That you had fought for us. You promised me your undying love, and you gave me music, and laughter and joy, but no fight. A fight might have kept you here. I will never be able to get that thought out of my mind. 'What if he had tried the chemo? What if he had fought for us? I might still have him with me.' But now I'm going to be lost, alone with nothing to fill me up inside except for memories. And memories fade. . ." This last phrase was a pain filled whisper, as Rosalie contemplated a life without him.
Erik gazed at his beautiful, broken love, and he fervently hoped that the memories would fade; he knew from his own torturous experience, that it would be so much harder for her if they didn't. "Rose," he finally said, kneeling down in front of her, taking her hand in his, and placing it over his heart. His ice blue eyes flashed with a fire she had not seen in a long time, as he entreated "I'm so sorry. Starting this moment, I promise, I will fight for you. I will do whatever I can to make this better for you."
Rosalie's eyes lit up, even as her lids drooped. The sheer exhaustion from releasing all that pent up anguish was washing over her. "You're going to start the chemo?"
"If that's what it takes, then yes. I will fight, Rose. I should have all along."
Tears sprang to Rosalie's tired eyes and she leaned forward and threw her arms around him. "Thank you! Oh, thank you! I love you so much, Erik."
"And I love you, my Rose." He hugged her back, with fierce determination about what he had to now do. He felt her arms slacken a bit, and knew it was time for her to sleep. "Come on, Rose, let's go back to bed."
OK, so now you know Erik has a plan. What could possibly go wrong?
The song I used in this chapter was My Heart is Broken by Evanescence. I heard an acoustic version of it on the radio awhile back, and it seemed perfect for poor Rose, who is finding herself in the emotional position that Erik was in all those years ago. I am sorry for the sadness, but I felt it was necessary. Tomorrow, we move on to Erik's plan.
Please review. Thanks!