He almost tripped over as he stumbled blindly towards her, disbelieving that it was actually she there. His breath was coming in short, sharp gasps as he ran his fingers deftly over her body, looking for broken bones and the like. He gave a small sigh when he found there were none. He caressed her cheek and watched, looking for any signs of movement but finding none, her breathing was slow and even, it was almost as though she was asleep.
Scooping her up, he held her to him, feeling the tears start up behind his eyes as he looked down at her, so peaceful, so cool but thankfully alive. "Christine…" he said softly, "Who did this? I'll never forgive myself… so help me God I'll tear them limb from limb!" he growled now, there was only other person apart from Nadir who knew where he lived, who would have the gall to set foot in his home… Raoul.
He would deal with that later, the anger in him reaching fever pitch before he realised that he had to help his beloved who lay in his arms. With Christine in his arms he reached for his cloak, wrapping it with difficulty around her unconscious form. He would take her up to the Opera House, he couldn't very well get a doctor down here and Madame Giry would make sure all was alright whilst he set about finding the one who had done this. Walking slowly over to his boat her placed his love carefully inside and pushed off from the side with the pole.
Within 15 minutes they had reached the other side. Christine still lay unconscious but his worries had been eased at her mumblings throughout the journey. He docked the boat and picked up his precious cargo, her weight unusually heavy in his arms, her skin usually rosy was a dull alabaster against his own pale skin – but still her slow, even breathing continued.
His path to the surface was long and slow, during the time he whispered words of love, crooned to her to keep her vaguely aware, to keep him vaguely sane. He would never forgive himself if he lost her – God might as well take him too for without her he was truly nothing. A cry rose in his throat and he pushed it back – he couldn't think of it; he wouldn't. Erik looked down at his beloved – even in her unconscious state she took his breath, her natural beauty a true gift from the God's.
Finally he had reached his destination, finding and flipping the switch in one fluid motion, mirror sliding back almost immediately. The commotion of Erik's shouts and cries brought Madame Giry in quickly, the sight of them both making her jump backing amazement.
"Fetch a doctor" Erik almost screamed as he placed Christine quickly but softy onto the bed in front of him. Madame Giry turned to speak now but Erik silenced her, shooting her a look that chilled her to the very bone and placing a finger to his lips.
"Please Madame Giry, I assure I am not the cause of this. Please fetch a doctor, or I fear for her, I truly do."
The frankness of his tone, the desperation in his eyes made Madame Giry move, her heart going out to him immediately, she knew that love ran deep but no deeper than what moved through the man in front of her. Nodding slowly she turned quickly, shutting the door with a soft click.
With an almost animalistic groan Erik fell to his knees at Christine's side. Taking one of her pale hands in his he laid his head on the bed, letting the tears that had been threatening fall, hot on his cheeks, stinging his eyes and staining his cheeks.
"Please don't leave me Christine. I…I cannot go on without you. You are my life, my soul Christine, my music…"
He placed a kiss on her palm, letting his tears fall freely. The pain in him was almost unbearable but still he continued, his voice strained and small, so strange coming out from such a big man.
"Please Christine… I love you"
He was startled as he heard the soft click which announced someone else's presence. His head snapped up almost immediately and he let out a low, dangerous growl – his face softening when he saw the face of Madame Giry, her air of authority still retaining, quiet respect between the both of them. In a slow even voice she said;
"The doctor is on his way Monsieur" she looked down at the broken man in front of her and smiled sadly to see him in so much anguish.
"Please Monsieur… what happened?" came Madame Giry's voice, slightly more apprehensive now.
"I…don't know. I was asleep… I woke up and she wasn't there. I looked everywhere Madame Giry… everywhere and I found her like this next to the lake…please Madame Giry, I'm begging you… she is my everything…"
"It is the will of God Monsieur…" came her quiet reply.
Before long there came a soft rap at the door. Erik's head snapped up again, his eyes riveted on the door as an elderly gentleman came quietly through the door, his steps small but firm, his thin glasses perched on the end of his nose, a leather bag tucked underneath one arm, a small smile crossed his face.
He walked cautiously towards the couple, Erik's amber eyes continuously fixed on the man in front of him. He motioned for Erik to move and with a soft nod he obeyed, getting up and got up to walk out the door. As he did so he almost shouted;
"When she awakes, tell her I've gone to sort out what I should have done a long time ago. He WILL pay for this!" and growling he walked out. It suddenly hit Madame Giry, he meant Raoul, and he meant to hurt him. Rushing outside he grabbed his shoulder, so scared at his reaction as he swung round on her.
"What?" the word so simple was filled with so much venom.
"You can't be so sure Monsieur… maybe it wasn't he?"
"Who else could it have been!" he growled, his amber eyes flashing with hatred now as he strode forth with purpose. Erik walked out into the Paris daylight, the sun immediately making his head ache slightly. Tension ran throughout his body and his fingers flexed involuntarily in his anger. Where to find the man who had done this? He could be anywhere. With a deep sigh he walked purposely towards Raoul's house – best place than any to start.
The atmosphere stayed electric for a couple of minutes, neither sure of what to do or say, the doctor eventually broke the silence;
"How long has she been like this Madame?" his voice, deep and tender.
The doctor and Madame talked quietly for a few minutes. Suddenly they were aware of movement and each looked towards Christine who lay staring up at the ceiling, slightly disorientated.
"Erik?" she whispered, her voice cracking slightly.
"He's not here Christine, he went to find who did this, and I couldn't stop him…"
"What…?" came her shocked reply as it sunk in what she was saying. Rising to sitting point she was immediately took over by a wave of nausea that threatened to consume her.
"Stay still" the doctor ordered softly, placing a soft hand on her shoulder, pushing her down again.
"But it wasn't Raoul…" was all he could say before she fainted again.
