Chapter Summary: Reality and nightmares become entwined as Annalise succumbs to the drug-induced confusion of her captivity.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Annalise has lost the ability to tell time and during these quiet moments when she waits for her nightmare to end she finds that she does not mind the loss so much. This is such a moment. It is a moment when she can remember the life before the nightmare that will not let her go. Annalise knows it is a life that continues and she cannot wait to rejoin it, no longer able to know how many days or hours it has been since she last awoke from troubled slumber to the faces and voices of loved ones. She lays motionless on the large bed, her hands crossed over her heart, motionless, because she does not want to scare away the angel that brings the magic elixir that will end her nightmare, returning her to the world beyond the locked door for which she now yearns. She lays motionless because she fears the violence and the anger and the nothingness that will often scare away her angel. Annalise has learned her lessons well and lays as still and as quiet as the grave.

"I am so sorry," she had heard the angel saying as she struggled to open her eyes, her head pounding. There was a gentle finger on her lips. "Please be careful of what you say," the voice had warned.

Annalise had finally opened her eyes; vision cloudy and blurred, the tears beginning as she found that her wrists were again tightly bound. She had tried pulling her hands apart only to find that the rope bit tighter into already raw flesh. "Get this off of me!" she had yelled in her panic. Her frightened panic had brought forth the angry stranger, earning Annalise a wrenched shoulder before she was made to choke down a vile of noxious brew from the very depths of Hell.

Her angel had to have reached into the frightening darkness for her because he had been there waiting as she had floated on soft white clouds, her wrists were free, arms floating along the summer currents. Annalise had brushed her hair back and found the clouds wrapped around the wound on her forehead from the angry stranger. Annalise reached out for her angel, turning him around and smiled at Michaud. She laughed for she had not known he shared her cloud.

"I did not know you were awake," the gentle voice had said, arms reaching out for her, reassuring Annalise that it was safe to touch, to gain a small amount of comfort from another human being.

"Thank you," she had told him, her hand a feather touch on his arm.

"Is there anything else you need?" the question had come.

"Please," she had begun softly, "can you go down to the gardens and let my parents know I am here. I fear they might be frantic for I did not tell them where I was hiding." She smiled mischievously. "And you must promise not to tell where my brother is hiding!" Suddenly she was pulled back into the nightmare behind the locked door as fingers curled tightly about her wrist.

"I told you that you do not need anyone else," the angry stranger had snarled at her as he dragged her to the small dark closet, leaving her to fade into the inviting arms of drug-induced slumber.

Annalise returned to consciousness still in the dark of the closet. She had begun to reach for the door, some instinct making her draw back at the last moment. She had moved into one of the back corners, drawing her knees as close as the pain would allow, wrapping her arms about her legs and bowing her head so that he would not hear her cries. She did not know how long she had sobbed out her fears but there were no tears left when she had finished. She had wept for a brother she was not sure still lived. She had wept for two other brothers who she cherished for their care and counsel. She wept for two small children she was certain she would never see grow up. She wept for the parents she knew were grieving and prayed they would remember how much she loved them. She wept for a sad and lonely man because now she understood the look in his eyes. She wept for misplaced trusts and lost possibilities and when she had finished weeping she began to think. So it was that when the door to her cramped prison opened Annalise was able to meet the face that frowned upon her with a small smile.

The wine that she had finally been allowed to sip on her own had sent her aching body floating into the air. She had handed him the glass and lain gingerly on the bed, feeling the pain disappear, feeling her soul leave her body, surrendering to the comforting darkness that held out its hands. As the darkness drifted away, Annalise felt an arm about her waist, warmth spreading over her entire back, fingers playing with her curls. She made a happy little sound as she realized that her angel was lying behind her. Annalise had slowly opened her eyes, moving a hand so that it rested against the arm about her waist.

"I am glad you are awake," the gentle voice had said. "I am so sorry for the closet."

Annalise had entwined the fingers of her free hand with the one that fingered her hair. "It is I who should be apologizing to you, my dear guardian angel" she had sighed softly. "I am very young and very foolish and I truly do not mean to cause you such trouble." She felt him bury his face in her neck at those words, his shoulders shaking with his sobs. "I just wanted to see what it would be like to hold you in my arms as you slept," she heard him whisper. "Then stay with me," Annalise told him, "but angels should never weep."

More wine. More darkness and with the darkness came the freedom of the world beyond the locked door of her nightmares. She was running through bright gardens chasing, but never quite catching, laughing boys until they were called in for dinner. Sometimes she would sit on a familiar lap, safe in strong arms, listening to stories of imaginary beings in far-off lands. The freedom she treasured most, though, was listening to the soft clear voice of an angel singing blessings of heaven upon a long peaceful night of dreams. Dreams of faces and voices. So many faces, all fading into and out from each other; smiling, frowning, happy, sad, familiar, frightening. Voices moving into and out of the faces like wind through the trees; laughing, shouting, singing, crying. Faces and voices swirled into and out of each other in a dance of color and sound moving faster and faster until all that was left was an explosion of light that cut through the empty night. The light fell like stars, coalescing into a single face. A single voice. It was that face and that voice that greeted Annalise as she opened her eyes only to fade away into the locked room of her nightmares like an ungranted wish. She would not weep aloud for the fear of what beast the crying would bring forth. Annalise allowed her heart to do the crying as she realized that he would never find her in this place of evil. "Andrew," her mind had whispered, "what have I done?"

"You have never asked why," Michaud had said as he handed her another glass of wine.

Annalise had taken the glass, sipping at it, smiling at her guardian angel. "You are an angel," she said, "the priests always said we should trust the angels because they watched over us."

A hand had reached out to grab at herbringing a flash of pain that radiated up her arm. "Do you not care?" an angry voice had demanded of her.

Annalise had closed her eyes, as her nightmare chased away her reality and her angel, leaving only the angry stranger. Annalise tried willing herself to be still; hoping her actions would prevent further pain. She had hoped in vain as a hand reached out to pull, roughly, on her hair. She bit back the cry her throat longed to release.

"Open your eyes and look at me!" came the demand. She had opened her eyes to look into the nothingness that always came with the anger. "Do you know what this drug will do to you?" She found her shoulders gripped tightly, her whole body being shaken, the wine splashing over her. "Do you?" His nose had flared, lips curling. "It is creating a physical need in you. When I stop giving it to you, your body will begin to long for it. It will cry out in pain and sickness for the only thing that will bring relief." He had leaned close, rubbing against her bruised face. "And that is when you will come crawling to me, begging me for the one thing that will stop the pain. That is when you will be willing to do anything for me."

Annalise had felt the nausea rising within her.

"And who will want the pretty daughter of the rich Vicomte when she is nothing more than a pathetic drug-addicted gutter snipe? No one will want you. Not that perfect little boy whose name you whisper in your sleep. And certainly not your fine family. There will be no one but me."

The nothingness had forced poison down her throat, no words spoken or emotions revealed as she choked, trying to catch her breath. There was a crack of thunder and the nothingness melted into the evil that Annalise feared most of all. She tried to struggle against it as she was lifted up and placed over its shoulder but the poison was slowly claiming its victim. Annalise's efforts had grown feeble as she was carried down into the depths of Hell and onto a plain where demons danced to pounding drums and flashes of fire. "You are filthy," the evil had told her as it gripped the front of the night shift she wore. "You cannot even handle a simple glass of wine." The evil had placed her on the ground at the feet of a demon. Fear held Annalise in its grip as the evil wrenched her numb arms behind her. The demon reached down its spindly arms, binding her wrists together, wrapping its green tentacles around her chest. There was another flash of fire and cold tears of demon mirth began to fall upon her head. The evil raised its face to the falling tears and laughed before reaching down to touch her chin. "This should get you clean," it had said as it turned and walked away, leaving Annalise alone with the weeping demons. There was no escape from her nightmares this time as she slipped into oblivion, his words echoing in her head - "No one will want you."

She had reveled in the warmth that enveloped her, its gentle weight taking away - for however briefly - the pain that had become her constant companion. She feared to open her eyes for to do so would bring the nightmares flooding back and the warmth would flee leaving her with the angry, evil nothingness. Yet there was a soft hand on the back of neck, gently raising her head, the lip of a warm cup placed against her lips.

"You must drink this," a voice was saying.

Annalise had smiled, knowing that the nightmares were gone and she was awake again. There was someone who still wanted her, there was still hope. She had opened her eyes to see who shared her dream and found herself staring into the concerned eyes of Michaud, her guardian angel. She raised shaking hands to the ones holding the cup to her lips, closing her eyes again as the familiar comfort of hot tea ran down her throat, warming the body she now felt shaking. She had sipped the tea with eyes closed until it was gone and sank back into the pillows of the bed, feeling the bed dip as Michaud had sat next to her.

"Please," he had begun in a voice that sounded like a guilty child.

Annalise had opened her eyes, reaching out for him, drawing him close. She had held him while he cried, murmuring to him. "We can find a way," she kept repeating until the drug in the tea swept her away, "we can find a way."

So now she waited in a place where time had no meaning. Waited for Michaud to bring the drugged wine that would set her free, allowing her to fly and dance in the colors of a world where there was no pain, no fear, no guilt. She waited for the nightmares to go away and her family to become real and touchable once more. She waited, quiet and still, so that the evil and the anger and the nothingness would see that she was no threat and the chance of more pain would fade even as she faded. Most of all she waited for the oblivion that the wine would bring so that she could forget her folly and stupidity. She had been caught up in the romantic notions of a child and had failed to see the love that had been patiently standing by. She thought of Erik, the Opera Ghost, the Phantom, the man who had been so obsessed with her mother that he had nearly lost sight of the real love that had been before him. He had lost and now she had lost. She had failed to heed his words. She had failed to heed her mother's words. Now it was too late. She had found an honest and real love - the love that Michaud had known was there, its knowledge driving him over the edge - only to know that it was gone forever, taking Andrew with it. He would not want her after this. No one would want her after this, no one but her guardian angel.

The door clicked open and Annalise raised her head, smiling as she saw Michaud standing in the doorway. She struggled to sit up and found him at her side, taking her hands in his own, easily raising her to a sitting position. Annalise saw the room start to spin around her and she closed her eyes, leaning into the chest in front of her.

"What is the matter?" Annalise heard Michaud ask as his hand stroked her head.

"My head," she whispered, sensing as he sat down next to her on the bed. She felt his hand on her chin and opened her eyes to look. Her guardian angel was there but there was a decided tilt of his jaw, a set of his shoulders and Annalise knew the anger was just beneath the surface.

"It is the drug," Michaud replied.

Annalise could only nod.

"You do not care?"

"I have you to care for me now," Annalise replied a small smile crossing her face. "You know what is best and I will do as you ask."

The anger began to assert itself. "You do know I sent you those presents?"

"I would nod but my head might fall off," Annalise giggled. She reached out to lay a hand on Michaud's cheek. "I thought they were lovely presents. The music was nice but I wish you had sent the whole opera. And the mask was very pretty, all sparkly and mysterious. But the best gift was the rose. I was never allowed to have roses. That was very, very sweet of you."

The anger began to give way to confusion. "They were not meant to be sweet. They were meant to push you into my bed!"

Annalise looked down and then back up. "I think that might be where I am." She caressed the cheek she still palmed before moving her fingers to trace the mouth that frowned in disbelief. "They worked very well," she said softly. "You are so very smart."

Michaud closed his eyes and Annalise felt him begin to shake. She watched as emotions raged through his body, his posture changing, his facial expressions seeming to meld into one constant mass of changing bone and flesh. "You ... you ... you ..." Michaud breathed.

"You ... you ... you ..." Annalise echoed as she leaned into him, resting her head against his beating heart, entwining her arms about his neck. She felt his arms go about her waist and rubbed her head against his chest, settling her ear against the beating of his heart.

They stayed like that, locked in each other's arms for what seemed like an eternity to Annalise. Finally she felt him pull away from her. She brushed the hair out of her eyes and looked at him, a small part of her mind screaming in triumph. She did not see the anger or the evil or the nothingness reflected in his eyes. Annalise did not see her guardian angel. She did not even see Michaud. She only saw something she had seen as a child when her brothers had been scolded for making her cry - it was the look of a confused, frightened little boy. She reached out a hand for him and he quickly stood up, reaching for the full glass of wine on the dresser. Annalise took it and swallowed it down quickly.

"What are you doing?" Michaud asked in wonderment.

Annalise lowered her eyes, feeling the familiar warmth begin to creep outwards from her stomach. "I am doing only what you desire of me," she told him with a sly smile.

The anger crept back in. "Do not mistake desire for love," it warned her.

Annalise sighed and sneezed as she felt the numbness begin to seep into every limb. She lay back down on the bed. "Desire ... passion ..." she yawned. "I am my mother's daughter why should I not have what she gave up?"

"Why indeed," came the answer.

Annalise heard footsteps recede, the door open, close and lock. She shivered as uncontrollable fingers tried to draw the duvet around her. She was not sure if the shiver came from the chill that permeated her bones or from the thought of what she had just done. Annalise found that she did not care as the laudanum claimed her again.