Thank you so much for being patient with me. It's been really difficult to write and post recently, what with being ill and then have tons of essays and coursework from school, but I've been trying to get on top of it, so I much apologise if this story is a bit...awful at the moment. I promise it will get better!:)

(Erik)

He sat with her throughout the night whilst she tossed and turned as if tugged by the oceans waves, crying out in within her wilds dreams as her skin blazed. He could not rest. Not whilst his beloved was in pain. Many nights had he spent servant to his music, toiling away through the night by the light of a flickering candle.

"Erik." She moaned, her eyelid half open as she scrabbled for his hand, her limbs weakened by illness.

"Shush, my love. I am here." He said soothingly, bending over her half conscious form and smoothing the wild curls from her perspiring forehead. Beneath her lids, her eyes roved, distant and unfocused. She was deep within the grasp of fever. He doubted she even knew that he was there. How he worried about her.

"I'm so thirsty Erik." She said, her head tossing upon the pillow. By the golden glow of the candlelight, the beads of perspiration that glistened upon her skin glowed like diamonds.

"Drink then, my angel. Can you raise your head a little so you don't choke." Erik said, holding the glass of crystal water within one hand and with the other, cupping the back of Christine's head and raising her slightly from the pillow. Holding the glass to her lips, he poured slowly, a little dribbling from her lips as she struggled to swallow. Pressing his handkerchief to her lips gently, he lay her back against the pillows, caressing her raging forehead.

"Erik." She choked, her head turning weakly to face him. "Erik, please don't let me die. I'm scared." She said, her lips trembling, and Erik sharply inhaled, the glass nearly slipping fro, between his fingers.

"Christine, do not say such things. I would never let that happen. I would die a thousand terrible deaths before anything every happened to you." He vowed, pressing her hand to his malformed lips and peppering it with kisses, his lids squeezed shut as he suppressed the tears that welled beneath them.

"Hold me Erik." She pleaded weakly,sighing with the exertion of speaking. Kneeling upon the bed, he placed his arms around her waist, and lifting carefully and gently, he enclosed her within his arms, his legs spread either side of her body as he laid her against his chest. Whimpering, she curled up against him, her hands resting lightly against the silken material of his waistcoat.

"Shush my love, you must never say such things. Never. You are not going anywhere. You are sick, but you will not die. You will not die. You cannot leave me Christine." He whispered against her curls, rocking her gently to send her back to sleep.

"Erik...I want you to know that I love you." She mumbled, her eyes drifting shut with exhaustion as she returned to the realm of dreams.

"And I love you. So much that it hurts in here Christine." He said, pressing Christine's limp hand against his pulsing heart. He continued to hold her tight to him, as she snored gently, his eyes trained upon the regular rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. For the moment, it was all that he could do, but just that simple detail reassured.

He had to do something. As he sat there, he remembered a recipe he had been taught a long time ago in Persia to cure fever and high temperatures. But he didn't want to leave his angle. What if something was to happen whilst he was away? Watching her tossing within her sleep, clutching his lapels weakly, he knew that he needed to do something.

"Christine, I don't know if you can hear me, but I must go and make you some medicine. It will make you feel a lot better. I shall not be long, I promise." He whispered into her ear, tucking her wild curls behind her ear and pressing a kiss to her forehead. He gently removed her hands from his lapels and tucking her head into the crook of his elbow, lay her down gently against the pillows.

"Erik." She moaned, her eye lashes fluttering as she was separated from her love.

"I am here Christine. Sleep, my love." He said, grasping her warm hand within his own cold one, resuming his seat beside her bed so as not to disturb her. To aid her sleep, he let the full, rich quality of his voice escape from between his lips, wrapping Christine in its hypnotic cocoon. Within moments, she was asleep again, the crease of pain smoothed from her brow.

Caressing her silken cheek, he hurried downstairs to his laboratory, collecting vials and jars of different herbs and liquids. Placing all upon his counter, he set his Bunsen burner blazing and opened the jars, placed a pinch of yarrow, elderflower flowers and a few peppermint leaves, grinding them with a little liquid to form a paste. He held this over the burning flame until a glossy amber liquid was formed. Dipping the tip of his little finger into the liquid, he licked it clean, tasting it. It was a little bitter, and taking the ceramic bowl off of the heat, he placed it upon side and walked quickly to the larder to find some honey to sweet it up.

Selecting the jar from the shelf, he glided back to his laboratory and scooped a small blob into the warm liquid, swirling it to melt the sweet honey. Dipping his finger in lightly, he tasted it. Much better. It would be find for Christine now, and her sweet tooth.

Holding the rim of the small bowl, he returned to the kitchen, taking a silver spoon from the draw. By now, the ceramic had cooled enough to hold, and so almost running, he returned to Christine. Entering the room, he could sense immediately that something was wrong. Slipping to her side, he put the bowl down and kneeled by her side, gathering her to him. Her skin blazed more than it had before and her breathing was shallow and rough as she inhaled.

"Christine? Christine? Christine, can you hear me? Christine." He called, shaking her shoulders gently as her head lolled against his shoulder.

"Mmmhhmmm." She murmed, her eyes rolling back into her head.

"Christine!Christine!" He cried, the tears spilling from his eyes as he shook her gently. "Christine, answer me. Oh Christine!" He moaned, his face falling against her soft curls. He remembered the herbal remedy that he had made, and turning quickly, seized it.
"Christine, I have some medicine here that will help. Open your lips slightly." He said, not knowing if she could hear as he propped her up against him, placing the bowl against her lips. At the feel of the ceramic,her lips parted slightly and he managed to pour the amber liquid into her mouth without spilling too much.

"Swallow Christine, please." He pleased, watching as her throat worked weakly. He then remembered that a luke warm bath would aid a fever, and so gliding into the bathroom, he placed plug in the hole and turned on the taps, his hand under the stream of water to ensure that it wasn't to hot or cold. Turning to the airing closet, he retrieved a fluffy warn towel, placing upon the side of the bath to wrap her up in later. Willing the water to run faster, he waited until the bath was half filled, and turning off the taps, ran back to Christine. Scooping her into his arms, he carried her to the bathroom, lowering her gently into the water in her nightgown. It would take too much of her scarce effort to remove it. As she submerged beneath the water, the flimsy material pooled around her slim frame and became see-through. In any other instance, it would have aroused him to see the material so tight over her frame, but not now. His love was perilously ill.

He cupped her head within his hand, keeping her head above the level of the water so that she did not drown in her unconscious state. With the other, he caressed her cheek, splashing the warm water up over the exposed skin, praying to a God he did not believe in to keep her safe and alive. He pleaded and bargained; if God would save her, he would be a better man, he would attend Church, he would believe, if only his Christine lived.

Dipping his hand beneath the water, he gently grasped her arm, pulling it out of the water to test the temperature of her skin. It still blazed, but was cooler than it had been. If only he had a thermometer, how useful it would be. Pressing his hand to her forehead, he guessed that it had to be just over 100. It was going down, but so slowly. His Christine was so ill.

"Christine, my love, can you hear me? Christine, please tell me you can hear me." He sobbed, cupping her chin within his palm to stop her head from tossing against the hard ceramic of the bathtub.

"Mmhhhmmmm." She moaned, lashes fluttering, her lips working as if she were trying to speak, but failed to form proper words.

Deciding that she had been in the water long enough as the water had cooled substantially, he placed his shirt covered arms beneath her knees and just under the armpits, the water seeping into the fine material of his shirt, and placed her down upon the mat, standing upright but leaning against him, his shirt soaked by her wet frame. Taking no pleasure from it, he seized the flimsy material of her nightgown at the neckline in his firm grip and pulled, ripping the fine material down the front so that it fell in a wet puddle to the floor. To prevent her from getting too cold, he quickly turned, and seizing the towel, wrapped it around her quivering frame.

Rubbing her skin gently so as not to warm her any further,he dried her skin, and few rapping it tight around her, scooped her into his arms and returned her to the bed, laying her gently upon silken sheets. She would need a new nightgown, he thought, and so hurrying to her wardrobe, seized a thin cotton one with a low rounded neckline and thankfully buttons down the front. Returning to the bed, he took a seat beside her, the mattress dipping beneath his weight, and undid all of the buttons.

Unwrapping the towel from around her, he wriggled the material beneath the body and gently taking each arm, placed them thought the arm-holes, pulling the fine material together at her front and doing up each button, his fingers fumbling with the small pearl buttons.

"Er...Erik." She said weakly, her eyes opening, staring glassily at him as he straightened her nightgown and pulled the light blanket up over her frame. He decided that it would be better to keep her above the sheets as it was retaining her heat.

"Christine, oh Christine. I'm here." He said, peppering her forehead with kisses, his hand upon her cheek.

"Erik, Erik please tell Amelie to be quiet. Mamman does not feel well, as she is being too loud." She whispered, her head rolling upon the pillow as she pressed her hand weakly to her forehead.

"Christine, we have no children. We do not have a daughter called Amelie. There is no one here but you and I." He said, near to tears at the fact that she was hallucinating.

"We do Erik. We do." She muttered, her voice fading as she returned to her tortured dreams. But she could be no more tortured than Erik. He sat beside her thought the small hours of the night, watching her, his eyes unblinking, not knowing what to do to make his love better. He could not sleep. He would never sleep again. He would not move one inch until he was sure, he was certain, that she was well again.

Thank you so much for reading. I'm sorry for do this, but don't worry, things will get better! :)