Christine bent over Erik's body stretched out on the hospital bed. Tenderly, she ran her hand over his cheek, careful to avoid the bandage covering most of his head. A heavy plaster cast encased his left leg. Deep blue and purple bruising bled upward from under the neckline of the hospital gown and down from his forehead. Ping Sai's blows caused large a contusion to his neck and shoulder. The blow to his head required several stitches to close and they feared swelling in his brain. Beyond that, they only knew he was unconscious and had no idea when or if he'd ever open his eyes.

.

"Open your eyes, Boy."

The familiar voice worked its way through the buzzing in his head. His eyelids felt like lead weights, too heavy, couldn't lift them.

"I said open your eyes."

That damned insistent voice again. Who? Someone, a woman, calling him…Boy? Only one person ever called him that in that particular tone of voice. He pried his eyes open then flinched, raising his arm to block out the almost blinding light. "Bright," he gasped, "too bright. Hurts."

He felt strong hands grasp his shoulders, turning him away from the glare.

"Better?"

He opened his eyes again, waiting a few seconds for them to adjust. Someone took his hand, pulling him forward away from the light. He took a step, amazed that he could move without hurting. The last thing he remembered was being enveloped in agony. "Yes," he whispered. "Better."

"There, this is so much better than that bloody bright light. What a stupid idea. I wonder who said, 'Yes, let's blind them for a few seconds upon arrival, that's just the thing to make them feel safe.' Idiots!"

That voice! He knew that voice. No. It couldn't be. Not her. Not—"Lillian?"

She turned, smiling up at him and squeezing his hand. "Hello, darling Boy. Or would you prefer I call you Erik?"

He shook his head, dumbstruck at the moment. How could she be here holding his hand? Where was here? And wasn't she…? No. No. "Am I dead?"

"Come on," she said, tugging at his hand and leading him over to a small grass-covered knoll. "Let's sit here and we can talk. All right?"

She smiled up at him and his breath caught in his throat. She was exactly as he remembered her, wearing a smart blue suit and smiling as she devoured an omelet he'd just put before her in the kitchen at Club Incognito.

She sat gracefully, pulling him down across from her. His legs folded automatically, just as they had when he'd sat upon the plush floor cushions in the Shah's palace. "There now," she said. "Isn't this more comfortable? Mmmm, smell that lovely fresh air."

Obediently, he inhaled, feeling almost dizzy at the rush of air filling his lungs. Her hands reached up, cupping his face gently and he realized he wasn't wearing his mask. Then he realized he didn't care. About anything. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know what happened. He didn't know how a dead woman sat before him looking so alive. And he didn't care.

"Just relax, Erik. I'm sure you have questions. I'll answer as many as I can, but I don't know that I can tell you everything you want to know."

Reaching up, he clasped her hands, pulling them down to his knees. "Where are we? How is it possible that I'm with you? I don't understand."

"It is a bit overwhelming. I felt exactly as you did when I first arrived, but Danby was here." She smiled fondly at the memory of her late husband. "He made everything easy. As I'll try to do for you. But you must have patience and listen with an open mind. Now, one question at a time please."

"Where are we?" He looked around. They seemed to be in a large open field. The sun was shining but he couldn't feel heat. Trees swayed without a breeze. He could hear the gentle hum of insects, but saw none.

"I like to think of this place as the good Lord's lobby." She gestured around them. "It's beautiful, elegant, calming. It's where you wait to be led upstairs, I suppose. Or perhaps, in some cases, where you come to see if you'll be allowed entrance."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh really, Boy. Did that knock on the head relieve you of all your common sense? Do you remember the first thing you asked me after you opened your eyes?"

A chill swept through him. "Am I dead?"

"The answer right now is no. You're in a hospital, unconscious from a blow to the head."

"Ping Sai. He hit me." He swallowed down a suddenly constricted throat. "Am I going to die?"

"Of course. Everybody dies." She folded her hands primly in her lap, looking at him expectantly.

"Am I dying now?"

Her eyes twinkled. "That's the question. I'm afraid I can't give you an answer just yet."

"Oh." He looked away, unable to meet her eyes. He was suddenly terrified and he didn't want her to know. He wasn't ready. He'd always thought he was prepared, but now that the moment might be at hand, he couldn't just accept it.

"I don't suppose I should be surprised." He chuffed out a bitter laugh. "Just when everything in my life was finally coming together. Just when I actually thought I could be happy…."

"The gods pull the rug out from under you again." She finished his thought. "And you're angry."

"Yes." He stood up, pacing away a few steps then turning to look at her. "Yes, damnit I am. I don't deserve this now!" He froze, the anger draining away from him in a rush. "You didn't deserve it either. Sholokhov told me about the cancer." He dropped to his knees in front of her. "I'm so sorry. I wish I'd known. I wish I could have taken it from you."

Pulling him into an embrace, she stroked the back of his head. "I know. I know exactly how you would have acted, and all it would have gotten us both was more pain. No, Erik. Things worked out the way they were meant to work out." She pulled back, then kissed him softly on the mouth. "I have no regrets.

"And look at me." She stood, stepping back and twirling in front of him. "I'm well. And I am happy. I know that's an odd thing to say, as I'm also dead. But it's true. I'm glad you didn't see me then. It was awful. Even I thought I looked awful and you know I've never been a vain woman."

She waited for him to nod his agreement. "Here, I am the way I was before the cancer. The way you remember me. The way I want to be remembered.

"What do you want, Erik?"

He looked around. This place was beautiful. There was a calm here that he'd never felt before. He imagined himself staying, drifting along forever. It was tempting, so tempting, to just let go and stay. No worries, no fear, no anger, no pain.

No Christine.

The thought invaded his mind, clutching at his heart. No Christine. To never see her, hold her, be with her again. He didn't know if he could accept that, not now after they'd finally come together. "You said this place was a waiting area. Waiting for what? Judgement from a higher power?"

"That's one way of describing it. Yes." Lillian looked at him. "You haven't answered the question. What do you want?"

In his heart of hearts he knew the answer. It only remained for him to speak it. "Christine. I want a life with Christine."

"Even if it means more pain?"

He closed his eyes and nodded. "Yes. Even if it means more pain. Even if it means that someday I have to let her go again. I just want the chance to make her happy."

"Does she make you happy?"

"Yes." His voice was soft with wonder. "She does. I am…happy."

"That's a rare experience for you, isn't it?" Her hand stroked his cheek. "I remember always seeing such pain in your eyes. You hid it well, but it was there."

He reached up, covering her hand with his own. "I was happy when I was with you."

"I know." She smiled, hugging him again. "I know, but we were never meant to be."

"So you told me, several times." He hugged her back, then released her to look into her face. "You knew about Christine, even before we parted in San Francisco."

"I did know, although at that time I didn't know anything beyond her first name. I just knew you loved her with all your heart. And then later I met her and learned she loved you as well. That's when I knew that you and she belonged together." She pushed him back, hitting him on the shoulder. "I did everything I could to make that happen and you still wind up here. What is wrong with you, Boy? Don't you want to be happy?"

"Of course I do." She swatted at him again and he stopped her, catching her wrist. "Don't hit me."

"Then don't be so damned idiotic. You're here because you're on the verge of quitting. Don't give up. If you want a life with Christine, you'll have to fight for it. Now. Fight as you've never fought before."

He looked at Lillian, seeing her love for him pouring forth from her eyes. "You're right." He gave a rueful grin. "You're always right. I will fight." He turned around, looking for a way to leave. "How do I get out?"

She hugged him, then pushed him back a step. "Firstly, you must decide to live. And then," she shrugged, "you do it. It's in your hands now, Erik."

"Is this real or am I dreaming?"

She shrugged again, a small smile lifting the edges of her mouth. "Yes."

He laughed then hugged her one last time, pulling her against him. "Thank you, Lillian, my darling Girl. Thank you for everything." Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath, smelling jasmine and roses, and seeing Christine.

. . . .

Erik took a deep breath, letting the scent of roses envelop him. Roses meant Christine. His head was pounding and his eyes felt sealed shut. He had to open them. Had to see…."C'ris…"

"Erik?" She bent forward, searching his face. "Oh my Lord, you're awake." She ran to the door, flinging it open and calling out. "Nurse! Nurse he's awake!"

He'd managed to get his eyes open, certain that the blur kissing his hand was Christine. He blinked, slowly bringing her into focus. "Christine." His voice cracked on her name and a cup of water was held to his lips.

"I'm here, my darling. I'm here." She held the cup steady. "Small sips."

He was hardly aware of the other woman in the room who bustled around taking his pulse and listening to his breathing through a hollow tube.

"Lie still, Mr. Dantes. I'll fetch the doctor."

He couldn't disobey if he wanted to. His body felt heavy and his head was muzzy. It was hard to think, to talk. He looked at Christine, she was barely in focus, but he knew she was his lifeline. If she was here, he would be all right.

"Mr. Dantes."

Another figure in white bent over him.

"I'm Doctor Aaronson; we've met before. Do you remember me?"

Aaronson. Yes. He'd heard that name before. "Hospital?" Memories came sliding back. A man stepping forward to shake his hand. The same man leaning over him under a canvas ceiling. "Tent."

"Yes, yes, that's very good Mr. Dantes." Aaronson turned to Christine. "This is an excellent sign. He remembers meeting me at the Danby Foundation hospital and also three years ago when I treated him just after the earthquake.

"You gave us quite a fright, Mr. Dantes, " Aaronson continued. "Your blood pressure dropped suddenly and we weren't sure what would happen. But you seem to have recovered on your own."

Erik looked from the doctor to Christine. He shifted slightly and the pain in his leg came roaring back. He clenched his jaw to keep from crying out as tears leaked from his eyes. "Hurts."

"I know." Aaronson's hand was gentle on Erik's shoulder. "I can give you something for the pain."

Erik shook his head. "No. No laudanum."

Christine and Aaronson locked eyes for a moment before she bent forward stroking Erik's cheek. "I know how you feel about it. But your body is under a tremendous strain right now and you must rest in order to heal. I promise, we'll watch you very closely. We won't let it get out of hand."

"No." He looked from Aaronson to Christine and back to the doctor. "No."

"Stop being so damn stubborn," Christine snapped.

At that moment, Erik heard another voice in his head along with hers and saw another pair of eyes flashing in anger. He knew he wouldn't win this argument. His head hurt so much he didn't want to try. "All right." He clutched at Christine's hand, letting her see his fear. "Promise."

She nodded solemnly, kissing his fingers. "I promise."

"As do I," Aaronson said. "The good news is, from your reactions now, there doesn't appear to be any serious head trauma from the blow. Head wounds do tend to bleed a lot, so we were initially very concerned. But I think we can set that aside for now.

"Your leg is another matter. Your femur, the large bone in the thigh was cracked, but luckily not broken. Still, it needs to be stabilized so it can heal strongly. The injury to your lower leg is more severe. There's a compound fracture of the tibia which required me using instruments called bone setters to put the pieces back into alignment during surgery. To do this, I had to open the leg and that required stitches later. As with any open wound, even one occurring during surgery, we watch very closely for signs of infection."

"I understand." Erik spoke softly. He'd read enough medical books during his life to know what the doctor wasn't saying. Infection could lead to serious consequences: gangrene, amputation, even sepsis and death. "I'll be watchful and I'll follow your instructions to the letter."

"That's good. I'm going to put you on a low dosage of laudanum. It'll be just enough to take the worst of the pain and help you sleep. It's imperative that we keep you as quiet as possible for the next four to six weeks and allow your leg to heal."

Erik exchanged glances with Christine. There was more the doctor wasn't saying and he had to know everything he'd be facing. Christine had to know, too. There would be no more secrets between them. "Pneumonia?"

"What, Erik?" Christine spoke up. "Dr. Aaronson didn't say anything about pneumonia." She turned to the doctor. "You said his lungs were fine."

"They are, for now." Aaronson frowned at his patient. "You know too much for your own good, Mr. Dantes. Still, you're right we cannot ignore the possibility that keeping you immobile could lead to a lung infection."

He thought for a moment, looking critically at the man in the bed and remembering what he'd learned about the man in the past. He knew Erik had amazing strength of will. And he'd have to call upon that strength to come through the next several weeks. "All right. I'll consult with my colleagues who specialize in treatments of the lungs. We'll have to design a course of treatment that will help your leg heal properly, but will also have you moving enough to stave off the threat of fluid buildup and lung infection."

He looked at Erik. "This isn't going to be easy."

Erik quirked a smile. "Nothing for me is ever easy. I'm used to it. I'll do anything and everything you say so long as it leads to me walking out of the hospital with this beautiful angel." He smiled at Christine and was rewarded with a light kiss.

"And I'll be with you every step of the way, mon ange."

. . . .

"Two more steps, and we're there, Erik."

Nasir's hand tightened on his elbow as Erik maneuvered his way up the flight of stairs to the hotel ballroom. Learning to walk on crutches with a heavy brace on his leg wasn't easy, but it was less awkward than trying to walk in the full-leg cast he'd worn until a week earlier.

"Remind me, if I ever design an hotel, to include elevator stops at every level, even the mezzanine." By the time he'd made it up the eight stairs to the ballroom, Erik was sweating. "Honestly Nasir, I don't know why I let you drag me to these tiresome events."

"Because, my darling," Christine said from the top of the stairs, "you are one of the guests of honor and it would be rude not to attend. Besides, Benjamin knows we're staying here." He and Christine were staying at the hotel because he couldn't yet manage the flight of stairs from the service elevator to the loft.

Finally achieving the landing, Erik stopped and hung his head, breathing heavily. "You're right. I know you're right. I'm just frustrated with myself." He crutched over to a bench placed along the balcony rail overlooking the hotel lobby and sat down on its edge, extending his braced leg in front of him. "Christine, please go inside and find Marian and the others at our table and tell them I'll be right in. Nasir will help me up. Just give me a minute to catch my breath."

He watched Christine make her way through the crowd in the ballroom. As always, his breath caught at her beauty. Even after her return to him from Europe and her daily attendance at his hospital bed, he couldn't believe how lucky he was.

He pulled in a deep breath and looked at Nasir sitting beside him on the bench. "What?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing, my friend." Nasir smiled at the younger man. "What?"

Erik bit his lip, searching for the words to say what was in his heart. "You're my oldest friend, Nasir. For many, too many years, you were my only friend. One way or another, you've been at my side for well over twenty years." He looked into the Persian's jade-green eyes. "Thank you. I've never said that to you and truly meant it from my heart, but I do now.

"Thank you for all the times you've saved my life and my sanity. For doing what you could to keep me from being my own worst enemy. For not letting the Phantom drive you away forever. For being my conscience and my guide when I was lost. For being my best friend, always. Thank you."

Nasir looked at the younger man, seeing the truth and the love shining from his eyes. "You are most welcome, little brother." He looked around, seeing several pairs of eyes staring at them. "And now, I'd best help you get yourself into that room so everybody can eat."

With Nasir's aid, Erik stood and made his way slowly through the open doors to the ballroom. The room was beautifully decorated with fresh flowers and sparkling crystal. It was already crowded, more than he'd expected it to be considering the grand opening for the hospital took place over a month earlier. He'd been unable to attend, but Christine and Lucia Vanucci were there in his place and they told him everything. He was especially pleased to hear how several of the young patients reacted to the design. He'd never been in a hospital as a child, but even for an adult they were foreboding places. He hoped his ideas for the building made it a less fearful place.

Tonight's gala was the culmination of a woman's dream. A woman he'd loved. I wish you were here to see this, Girl. I wish we could have shared this night. He missed Lillian terribly. How was he to have known, all those years ago as a battered boy in a cage that the girl who handed him a ribbon pulled from her hair was also handing him a lifeline? Whenever he felt afraid or unsure, he'd always had her ribbon to hold on to. It was his talisman. Even now, he slipped his hand into his dress trousers pocket and fingered the worn cloth thinking of Lillian.

"Ready?"

Christine's voice broke into his thoughts. He looked up at her, his heart swelling at her beauty. Even after this time together, he still couldn't quite believe she was with him. She'd moved into the loft while he was in the hospital and refused to leave until they took temporary accommodations at the hotel. She didn't care that they weren't married. They would be some day. They were married in their hearts. The piece of paper would come later, when Erik was fully recovered. "Yes."

Together they made their way to the table reserved for their party. Erik hadn't wanted to be seated at the head table so he compromised by agreeing to sit at a table in the center of the room surrounded by his friends. The Imperialis were there along with Tom Walsh and a date, Lucia Vanucci and her friend, and Nasir who'd left Erik with Christine and slipped into the chair beside Marian.

Erik maneuvered himself into the seat next to Nasir, whispering to the man. "Don't worry. I won't try to run away this time."

"That will be a welcome change," Nasir whispered back. "Tonight is for you, my friend, as much as for the hospital." He looked to the wall over the head table where a portrait of Lillian hung. "She would be so happy to see this."

"She would," Erik agreed. He raised his water glass in a silent toast to the lady then settled back as waiters brought out the first course of the dinner.

. . . .

"I think that's the first time I've actually enjoyed the meal at one of these affairs." Nasir leaned back in his chair smiling and looking around the table. Even Erik had eaten more than half the meal, but then considering he was under the watchful eyes of Alma, Lucia, and Christine, what choice did he have?

A dark-haired man in his mid-thirties, rose from his place at the head table and made his way to the speaker's lectern. "Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen," he began, speaking with a crisp English accent. "My name is Adam Featherstone, Baron Danby and I, along with my younger brother Jeremy, have the honor of being the head of the Danby Foundation. But beyond that, I have the honor of being able to call Lillian Featherstone my mother.

"Lillian came into my life when I was fifteen years old and an insufferable brat." He smiled, pausing for the audience to laugh a little along with him. "My own mother had died ten years earlier, and I thought Lillian would be just like the evil stepmothers in the fairy tales I'd heard in the nursery."

He shook his head. "I was so very wrong. Even after playing all the usual schoolboy nasty tricks, she still befriended me. She helped me study when I was having difficulty with a subject and never made me feel stupid. She'd take my side in arguments between me and my father if she believed I was in the right. She comforted me when my heart was broken for the first time, and every time after that. And somewhere along the line, she went from being Lillian to being Mum and I feel truly blessed to have had her in my life."

"We're here tonight to celebrate the opening of the Danby Foundation's Hospital for Disadvantaged Children here in San Francisco. I'd like to begin now as she would have begun, by telling you a story. The story of a boy who touched her heart."

Erik looked around the table at his friends as the story was told, seeing in each of their eyes the moment they realized the identity of the boy in the story. He nodded, acknowledging the truth, and kissed Christine as she squeezed his hand.

Benjamin Sholokhov rose and walked to the lectern as Baron Danby relinquished his place. "Good evening. I'm Benjamin Sholokhov and I am the Medical Director for the hospital. It's wonderful to look out at all of you and see so many people who have been on this long journey with us and who contributed so much to our success." He glanced down at Erik's table and nodded slightly.

Erik felt his heart speed up. After spending so many years in the shadows, it was his turn to be in the spotlight and he found it a bit frightening. While Sholokhov continued his speech, Walsh and Nasir moved to help Erik stand and get his crutches securely under his arms.

"And now," Sholokhov continued, "it gives me great joy to introduce to you the man who's brilliant mind conceived and built the facility we are celebrating tonight. A man I am very proud to call my friend. Mr. Erik Dantes."

With Christine leading and Nasir walking behind, Erik slowly made his way to the speaker's stand. As he moved through the crowd, people began to stand and applaud until finally, the entire room was on its feet.

As he stepped up to the lectern, Erik saw Sholokhov place a high stool behind him so he could lean on it instead of having to stand. He nodded gratefully in the man's direction. Moving into place, he felt Nasir's hand on his back for just a second as Christine leaned in to kiss him, marking him as hers for everyone to see.

Leaning back on the stool and adjusting his balance, Erik took a few seconds to look out across the room. Then he took a sip of water and slipped his hand into his pocket before speaking.

"Good evening." He was surprised to hear his voice steady, in contrast to the rapid beating of his heart. "I want to show you all something." Pulling his hand from his pocket, he held up a tattered piece of fabric. "This was given to me when I was eleven years old, by a brave and beautiful girl. It doesn't look like much; it's just a worn piece of ribbon she was wearing when we met but for me it's been a talisman. The one constant reminder that there was at least one person in the world who cared about me.

"You've heard the story of the boy Lillian Featherstone met and who inspired her to create the Foundation to help disfigured children. I don't know how many of you believe it or how many of you think it's pure poppycock." He took a deep breath, taking a second to look into Christine's shining eyes. "I'm here to tell you the story is true. You see, I am Lillian's Boy.

~ fin ~