Hi to all my wonderful reviewers. Here we are back for some lighthearted fun. :) OK. maybe not. But here we are. Let's check in with our characters.

CH 36

Penny heard the knock at her hotel room door, and placed the sweater she had been folding in the suitcase before walking over and looking through the peephole. Oh dear, she thought, as she unchained the lock. This was going to be difficult.

As she pulled open the door, she looked at the face of Jenna's doctor, and her heart broke. His hair was disheveled, his shoulders slumped. He was looking down at his feet, but she could see the expression on his face was tense. "Dr.," she said in greeting, and he glanced up at her, and when he did, his eyes held such sorrow, such defeat.

"You're taking her away, Ms. Wilson," he stated, his voice breaking on the last word.

"Please come in," Penny said, ushering him into her room and closing the door, so that they were not talking in the hallway of a New York hotel. She drew him with her to one of the overstuffed chairs by the window. "Would you care for a drink, Dr.?" she asked, as she poured herself some water.

She saw him shake his head quietly, still looking too stricken to talk. She took her glass and sat down in the other chair, facing him. When their eyes met once more, he asked her simply, "When?"

She took a drink from her glass. "They are coming to pick her up tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" his eyes widened and his voice was hollow. "That's. . .that's too. . ." he trailed off as the enormity of her words hit him.

"Too soon?" she asked sympathetically, hating the vacant, lost look he wore on his face.

"Yes," he whispered looking down again. "Far too soon."

They were quiet for a few moments, him staring at the floor, Penny staring at him. When at last he broke the silence, he asked, "Why so soon? And why so far?"

Penny reached out and took his hand. "I live in Maine, Dr. I found an excellent facility that will give her the very best of care. And I will be able to visit her often. I can finally be real family to her—not simply caring for her from afar. They were able to arrange for transport tomorrow, so I had to agree." When he simply stayed quiet, staring at the floor in front of him, she added, "Dr. James told me that there was very little chance of her ever waking up. He said she was moving into a vegetative state."

"That's debatable." he argued.

"Are you questioning Dr. James' judgement?" she asked gently. "He's the Chief of Neurology. Your boss."

He heaved a heavy sigh. "No, I know Dr. James is an excellent doctor." he conceded. He glanced imploringly in her eyes. "But there is always hope."

"But how much?" Penny challenged, quietly. "Can you honestly tell me you think she is going to wake up?"

"I wish it," he answered. "I wish it with all my heart."

"But that is not the same," she said gently. "As believing it." When she saw his head hang again, she continued. "Dr., I know that you would do anything to make Jenna wake up. You've tried so hard and you've shown such care."

"And it has all come to nothing." He sighed heavily.

"You don't know that, Dr." Penny disagreed. "You have no way of knowing how you may have helped her."

"If I had been successful, she would have opened her eyes." he raked his fingers through his hair. "And you would not be taking her away to Maine."

"Dr.," Penny said, sadly. "I know that you love her, and if love could work miracles, I know you would have brought her back. "

"But love was not enough."

It pained Penny to hear him so distraught. "Maybe not this time, Dr." she said, sadly. "But you have to promise me that you are not going to give up on love." When she saw him begin to shake his head, she added, "I have never seen someone give such unselfish love as you gave to my niece. It would be a horrible shame if you were to waste that on someone who could never give it back."

"It was not wasted on Jenna, Ms. Wilson. She is so special to me." His eyes took on a faraway look as he recalled the days before she was confined to a hospital bed. "Before the accident, she dazzled me. She was so beautiful, and confident, and full of life. I was so drawn to her, but so shy. I curse that shyness, because I never talked to her, aside from a few quick words about patients. And now. . ." his voice trailed off as he rose to his feet and began to pace the floor. "Ms. Wilson, I should have told her. I should have introduced myself as a man, not just a doctor. I should have asked her to dinner, I should have told her she was beautiful. I should not have held myself back for fear of being rejected. And now. . .now I'm never going to have the chance."

Penny swallowed and struggled to hold back the tears that had sprung to her eyes. Oh, what she wouldn't give for her niece to know the devotion of this wonderful man. He could have been the answer to all of her prayers—the final destination on her thus far disappointing journey into romance. The look in his eyes when he spoke of her. . .any woman would be fortunate to find that level of adoration in her mate. It seemed so consummately unfair that Jenna could not experience this type of love. But Penny knew that he could.

"Dr., listen to me," she stood and took his hand in hers once more. "You are young. Your whole life is ahead of you. I would want nothing more for my niece than to know your love for her. But that cannot happen." She looked deeply into his eyes, begging him to accept the gravity of the situation. "She is gone."

"I promised her I would never stop trying. " He shook his head, his eyes watering with unshed tears, "I promised her I would never give up on her."

"Then don't give up," she squeezed his hand in hers tightly, "on yourself, Dr. The next time you find a woman who catches your eye, who dazzles you, as you put it, don't be shy. You will make some lucky woman out there so very happy."

He closed his eyes at her complimentary words. He was touched by her kindness and her desire for him to move on, but she didn't understand. He loved Jenna. There could not be another.

XXXXXXXXXX

"I found it, Jenna! The door. It's here," he declared, in shock as, in fact, the small wooden door appeared by the lake. True to Jenna's description, it was made of boards that undulated and pulsed, held together by heavy rope. There was light glistening through the slats, engendering hope that there was, indeed, something new and wonderful on the other side. He looked away from the shimmering door, with a mixture of excitement at finally solving this confounding mystery and sadness at what he knew would be his impending loss. "Jenna," he said again, "It's the way back to your world. We've found it! You can finally go home."

Jenna smiled lovingly at him, her eyes shining, as she took his hand in hers. "I am home, Erik."

Erik stared at her, unbelieving. "What are you saying, Jenna?"

"I'm not leaving." she answered.

In confusion, he pressed, "But your life is there, Jenna. Your home."

She pulled him closer to her and gazed deeply into his eyes as she whispered, "You are my life. You are my home. Erik, I love you." She reached up and cupped his cheek in her hand adoringly, as she added, "I choose you, Erik."

He felt her pull his head down toward hers, to join their lips in a tender kiss. When she pulled away, joy was in her eyes as she said again, "I choose you, Erik. I won't leave you."

He cupped her face in his hands, gazing at her adoringly, completely humbled by the auspicious turn of fortune that landed this woman in his arms. "Jenna, I. . ." he began to declare his love for her when they felt a breeze rustle through their hair and heard a creak behind them. Erik pulled Jenna fully into the protection of his arms as they noticed that the door, under its own power, was beginning to swing open.

The light shining through the slats once again proved deceptive, as a long tunnel suddenly surged and rippled before them. Without moving, their eyes traversed the length of the passage, enclosed by its rough-hewn walls, and ceiling. Standing still, they navigated the path that the earthen floor laid out before them, until at last the shaft opened unto a small room, with walls of white and a single bed. Surrounding the bed were women in the long white dresses and small white caps which signified the medical profession. Within the bed, the still, prone form of a figure with closed eyes and hair of golden flame lay motionless under a cover of white. Her skin was pale, as if she were made of the finest porcelain, her lips barely pink. She looked so cold and breakable—nothing at all like the strong and exquisitely fiery young woman he had come to know.

Erik felt his breath come faster at the vision of Jenna reposing in the hospital bed, and he hugged her to him a little tighter to reassure himself that she was still with him, still breathing, still whole. He felt her nuzzle her head against his chest as she whispered once again, "I'm still here, Erik. I won't leave you."

In the vision before him, the nurses who were tending her, suddenly stopped and moved away from her bed, a look of sorrow on their faces. A doctor came forward into the room, pressing a stethoscope to her chest, and once again, in another position before moving back from her and removing the instrument from his ears. He reached forward and took the sheet in his hands, and slowly, gently pulled it to cover Jenna's face, looking sadly at the nurses and shaking his head. With downcast eyes, and defeated expressions, the doctor and the nurses filed out of the room, leaving it empty except for the lifeless body of the woman that he loved, laying covered by a sheet.

Erik knew he was trembling, shaking at the horror that had just played out before his eyes. He clutched his love closer, tighter to his pounding heart, hoping that somehow, her nearness would stop his soul from shivering. Lowering his head to drink in the scent of her hair, he found himself unable to look away from the tragedy before him. Again, of its own volition, the door slowly closed, yet still Erik stared, lost in a world of his own terrifying visions.

Then he felt Jenna's arms loose their hold around him and fall limply to her sides. He looked down to see that while her head still rested on his chest, it lay there listlessly, and suddenly, her body felt heavy in his arms. "Jenna," he called, but she did not answer. "Jenna," he said louder, but still, she made no reply. He lifted her chin up so she would face him, and he saw that her eyes were closed.

He lowered the two of them down to the ground, and cradled her in his arms, thinking she had passed out yet again. But this time was different, for her breathing was shallow, and her skin was growing cold. "Jenna," he whispered over and over again, placing whisper soft kisses on her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks. "Jenna, wake up. Wake up." And then, finally, struggling, she opened her eyes and looked straight into his, her lips curving into a slight, tired smile as she rasped, "I chose you, Erik," as the life left her body and her head lolled awkwardly to one side.

"No, Jenna," He moaned as he shook her, tears spilling out of his eyes. "No!" his voice continued booming to a deafening roar as she made no reply, save for the cooling of her skin. "Jenna, come back!" He demanded with a harsh shout. "You swore you wouldn't leave me! Jenna, please, come back. . ."

Erik felt the hands on his shoulders, shaking him awake. With a start, he lifted his head from where it rested in the center of a large book which was laid out on his dining table. His fear stricken eyes attempted to focus on the force which had woken him from his nightmare, as he struggled to regulate his breathing. "Daroga," he panted. "What are you doing here?"

"Hello, Nadir" the Persian began, sardonically, "Thank you for coming in and waking me from what was a horrible nightmare! I am so grateful to you and. . ."

"Jenna!" Erik exclaimed, cutting Nadir off, as he sprang to his feet and instantly crossed the distance to Jenna's room. Quietly, he pushed her door open and stealthily glided to where she lay sleeping peacefully in her bed. He stood there silently for a moment simply watching her breathing. It seemed to him the most precious of sights, as the terror of his dream washed over him in renewed tremors of trepidation. When he felt calm enough to leave her, he exited her room, closing the door silently behind him. With a deep breath, he slowly walked back to the sitting room, where The Persian awaited him with concerned eyes.

"Erik," he asked, shedding all artifice of humor, "Are you quite alright?"

"I am fine, Daroga," He nodded, sinking into his reading chair in exhaustion.

"What were you doing sleeping at the table, Erik?" Nadir questioned his friend.

"Must I justify my every action to you?" he asked, with eyebrow raised. Sighing, he acquiesced and said, "I must have dozed off while reading."

Nadir glanced over at the book laid out on the table. The Treatment of Patients Afflicted with a Long Standing Stupor was the title at the top of the page Erik had been reading. "Are you considering a career change, Erik, or were you having trouble falling asleep?" he asked, a bit of sarcasm finding its way back into his tone. "If the latter is true, it looks like you found a solution."

"I have to send her back, Daroga." Erik stated, his eyes looking stricken, his expression haggard.

Nadir looked at him in annoyance. "Erik, what is wrong with you? It is obvious how much you and Jenna love one another. Are you truly so terrified of the happiness that you could find with her, that you are renewing your efforts to send her over a century into the future?"

"Daroga, her head injury. . ." Erik began to explain, but stopped short when Nadir flew into a diatribe.

". . .was not your fault, Erik!" he interrupted in aggravation, finally snapping at what he perceived as his friend's eagerness to hold fast only to sorrow. Slapping his hands on the table, he demanded, "When are you going to let that damnable witch of a woman die? She was never fit to have a child, Erik! She was a depraved, embittered woman. Her child was healthy—her child was a genius—and yet she cut him down because of the misfortune of his appearance—a deformity over which he had no control, but to which she surely contributed. She had no concept of the blessing she could have held in her arms and nurtured into greatness—while others in this world desperately cling to their own precious, sick children that the world takes from them too young. Do not let that termagant, that. . . harpy . . . destroy your chance at happiness with her sick, deluded ravings. She is dead, Erik. When will you let her be buried?"

Erik looked at his friend with surprise, jaw slightly agape at the vehemence of his declaration. "Daroga," he began quietly, the weight of the Persian's words still hanging heavily in his mind. "This has nothing to do with my mother. It is Jenna's health. . ."

"Have you taken her to a doctor, Erik? If her health is a concern, then let's find her a physician who can examine her and tell us. . ."

"Daroga," Erik interjected, "I do not believe one of the doctors from our time will find anything wrong with her."

"Oh for Allah's sake, Erik," Nadir blurted in exasperation. "What on earth could be so wrong with her that only doctors from a hundred years in the future can treat her?"

"She is in a coma, Daroga." Erik stated plainly, keeping the emotion that was roiling in his heart from coming to the surface. "A stupor. A somnolence. She has been in one the whole time she has been here."

Nadir stared at him in confusion. "How can that be, Erik? She has been awake and aware. . ."

"Not here, Daroga." Erik corrected him. "In her own time. I believe that she entered a coma at the time of her accident, and that somehow, because of her altered state of consciousness, she was able to travel to my domain, and exist here, in this alternate universe, while her brain convalesced and healed in her own world."

Nadir shook his head, "Erik you're speaking insanity! How is it that something like that could even happen?"

"The concept of liminality, Daroga. Her existence was in flux. A traumatic event deprived her of consciousness, leaving her in a state between life and death. At times like this, Daroga, doors can open, allowing passage between the worlds—forcing her to make a choice."

"The secret door. . ." Nadir murmured, as he recalled this illusory door through which Jenna claimed she had entered Erik's lair. Erik nodded his head, but made no further answer. Nadir tried hard to make sense of what his friend was saying, but he was not having much luck. "So are you saying that she chose here? She chose you?"

Nadir's words once again pierced through his heart. Taking a deep breath, he attempted to explain. "Not exactly, Daroga. You see, I am more certain now than ever that she is somehow existing in two places at once—she is both here and there. Here she interacts with us, living this strange new life in the best way that she knows how. But in her own world, Daroga, she exists only to heal—to strengthen her body, to mend her spirit, so that she can once again go back to living the life she always knew. She has not yet made her ultimate choice, Daroga, but soon, I believe, she will have to."

"She will have to choose between going back to her life as a nurse, and living the rest of her life here with you?" Nadir asked, to make certain he understood what Erik was saying.

"I believe so, yes." Erik nodded, a look of fear once again darkening his eyes.

"Then what are you afraid of, Erik?" Nadir asked with a chuckle. "She is in love with you. You must realize she is going to choose you." He gave his friend a congratulatory pat on the back, already wondering if Erik would choose to continue his life beneath the opera house once he was a husband, or if he would instead choose to move with his wife out into the light—perhaps somewhere out in the country, to raise a family.

Erik shook his head back and forth. "I must do everything I can, Daroga, to make certain that she does not."

Nadir once again looked at his friend in confusion. "But, Erik. . .why?"

"Because, if she chooses me, Daroga," Erik began, his voice tremulous with dismay, "She rejects her own life. Once she finally, irrevocably chooses to close the door on her own world, Daroga, there will no longer be any reason for her to heal. Her body will fail, Daroga. Her breathing will slow and her heart will stop beating. We have seen that what happens to her in her world happens to her here. So if that happens, Daroga—if she rejects her former life, and chooses to remain in this pseudo existence," Erik's breathing was heavy with the enormity of what he was about to say, "She will die." He swallowed hard, before adding, "And she will be lost to both worlds."

OH no! What a terrible certainty Erik's dream revealed to him. What a horrible choice he has before him. And our poor dear doctor, feeling so defeated. Something needs to happen here-quick!