The Phantom of the Opera lie in his coffin in a drug induced haze.
He hadn't meant to end up like this, but after the events of that day he had to. Christine was up in the rafters playing at being engaged to that boy. It was more then he could bear when he heard it. She would betray her Erik; she would play childish games with his heart.
Morphine had been the soothing balm he chose for his anguish, and not his normal dose either. Normally, Erik would dilute his dosage and inject himself with the solution. Not this time. He had given himself enough that he was in danger of having his consciousness float away without him.
And so the Opera Ghost continued to float out of consciousness.
And back in
And back out
He was traveling back to the land of the living when he noticed that his situation had changed somewhat. When he had lay down to his oblivion, he had done so fully clothed and with no thought as to his comfort. His shoes were now off, there was a pillow beneath his head, and a blanket was covering his slightly chilled body. To be honest, it did not cross his mind to complain or even wonder about these changes; he was still way to drugged for his mind to be working with its normal speed. The only thing that did cross his mind before it blanked out once again was that he could hear his angels voice…and she sounded upset.
Christine had been feeling rather guilty about her game with Raoul. She knew that she was potentially hurting two men, yet she wanted to have both in her life. She kept telling herself that things would be better: once Raoul returned to the navy she would devote herself to her angel of music. The problem with this assurance was that it wasn't helping to soothe her guilt at all. Worse still, Raoul had said that he was considering not leaving with his ship. She had walked a path with a major fork in the road, and now she needed a sign to show her where to go. Who needed her more, and whom did she need more.
Her wonderings had led her to the 5th cellar through the Rue Scribe. Christine had hoped to find her angel and to listen to him sing. His voice had always soothed her aching heart and put her at ease. When she got there he would not answer her calls, but she assumed he was out. She took the opportunity to wonder his home and consider her place in his life. In the midst of her deep thoughts, she had come upon a very disturbing sight. A severely drugged Erik.
"Oh Erik! What were you thinking doing this to yourself!"
Now, Christine was well aware that normally a three was a stretch for her on the helpfulness scale. Honestly she intended to be useful, but often her temperament just failed her on that account. This time after the initial shocked outcry, she found herself attempting to make the poor man comfortable. She was even smart enough to turn him on his side in case he threw up; after all she had no clue what he had done to himself. After that she kept a vigil on him, being sure to scold and fret whenever his eyes opened even a little bit.
Erik had no clue how long he had been floating in a morphine haze, but he was very aware that he now had his favorite guest with him, or rather on him. Christine had moved her vigil/lecture closed to him and had exhausted herself with repetition. Her audience had not gotten her message, but she still had him captivated once he woke up.
Erik brushed his fingers over her hair and gently woke the tired girl up. She seeing that he was awake mumbled to him, "You get my point don't you." Erik quickly agreed, which earned him a smile.
"I guess you really do need me around don't you."
Again agreement was the best option.
"Well that decides it, I'll just have to stay here and watch over you then."
