Hey everyone! Here ya go, chapter five. And we finally get to see Erik again. The next chapter will actually be Erik's POV, so it's truely time to bring him back into the picture. But, you won't be getting any updates until after July 27. I'm going on vacation and I don't get back until late on the 26th. But I'll have one up as soon after that as I possibly can. So, until then...;)

Chapter V

"Therese. How was he?" She was impatient to know now. She had planned to check on him after she was dressed. But it would be better if she could be prepared beforehand.

"As I said, not hopeful."

"Yes, but what does that mean? Please tell me, Therese."

"Very delirious, my lady. He is perfectly oblivious to everything around him. But that is only when he is awake, which is not often. Nor for long. His fever is also very bad." Therese stopped speaking. She walked over to the large wardrobe opposite the bed and opened it. "Would you like to wear the navy velvet today, my lady? It is a bit chilly, and I believe it would look very pretty on you. It would suit your colouring very well."

"Yes, the blue velvet is fine," she replied, annoyed with the change of subject. "But is that all you know?"

Therese returned with the dress over her arm and arranged it for Stephanie to step into. "Anything else he told me was very minor in comparison, my lady. A sprained ankle, and few cuts and bruises. There may be more, but we both had to get to work just then."

"Oh. Thank you." She had to know more. She couldn't seem to hold still while Therese did up the back of her dress and by the time her hair was arranged she couldn't take it anymore.

"There, my lady. You look beautiful. I'm quite jealous."

"Thank you, Therese." And next second she was up out of her bedroom and into the hall.

She stopped just before the door. Now that she could finally check on him herself, she was slightly nervous. She knocked softly on the door. Monsieur Frechette opened the door instantly, almost as though he had been just behind it waiting for her to knock.

"Mademoiselle. You're earlier than I expected."

"May I come in, monsieur? How is he?"

Monsieur Frechette moved to allow her through the door. He closed the door behind her.

"He is not well."

He looked worse than she remembered. Even last night while undressing him she hadn't seen half of what she saw now. He was very pale. There were cuts and bruises all over his face, arms, chest. Even though it was obvious that he was a very strong man, his body looked thin and weak. He probably hadn't eaten in several days. Sweat glistened on his brow from the fever, which was obviously very high. And even though he slept— or was he unconscious?— she could see that it was not a peaceful sleep. Something was going through his mind, tormenting him, even now.

And then, there was the mask.

Contrary to the night before, Stephanie now had the incredible urge to walk over and remove the mask. What was under it? Why did he wear it?

"It's just as bad as it looks," the doctor said gravely, turning her to look out one of the windows. "He really is not well. I didn't expect him to live even this long."

"What can we do for him?" asked Stephanie quietly. "Is there any hope at all?"

"Very little, I'm afraid. It's obvious that he was out there for several days. Survival is up to him now. And it doesn't seem to me as though he wants to survive."

"Christine?" said a broken voice, coming from the direction of the bed. Stephanie and Monsieur Frechette turned to find the man conscious, if a bit confused. He was staring at Stephanie in stunned disbelief. He held his hand out to her, and she quickly went to his side.

The man stared at her, his eyes clouded from the fever. "Christine?" he asked again. And then he once again fell unconscious.