A/N: Sorry it was a slow update, forgive me.
Ahomelesspirate: I'm doing my best in this story and I like to have a good line to end my chapters on, I think it's important to either find something that wraps up the tone of the chapter or leads nicely into the next. Thank you for your great reviews. And yes, it is moving along! Or at least its going to start to... I hope. I'm planning to have another chapter up sometime today.
Amber: As always thank you and no worries, I realise you're busy.
Modesty: Your beta is your mum? lol aren't mums great! Thank you for the review, as always!
Chapter 26- Heart Ache
Slowly she pushed herself up into a seated position and glanced at the clock across the room. It read that it was a little after ten o clock and she assumed that it was morning, as the light was pouring in through the window and she was pretty sure she hadn't slept until summer. Her eyes took a while to adjust, they felt sticky in places and dry around the edges. She glanced over to the night stand where subconsciously she knew there would be a damp cloth. She reached across and picked it up, wetting her hands and arms first and then moving the material gently over her face. Finally, she dabbed her eyes carefully before placing the cloth back onto the table.
She looked at the door ahead of her which was half open and she could see movement in the living room. She wondered why the bedroom wasn't upstairs, she vaguely remembered that this was a house and not a bungalow. Her head was hurting as she shuffled herself to the edge of the bed and dangled her feet off it. The sheets were a mess, they were damp with sweat and the floor was covered in water. She tried to remember what she had dreamed about.
Standing slowly she straightened her body and stretched her arms above her head. If she had remembered how she had been feeling lately she would probably be sure that she felt a lot better. She walked to the window and peered out, saw nothing but fields of green and trees with no leaves and wandered back into the room. It was sparse, she thought, and let her mind drift back to the de Chagny home covered with its beautiful papers, its expensive paintings by more than famous artists, its lavish furniture wall to wall.
She was sure that she preferred this room.
Through the door she could faintly hear voices and as she edged closer she recognised them both. Madame Giry and Erik. She crept into the corridor between the bedroom and the living area and stood with her back to the wall, listening carefully.
'Well, I thought it best she was here,' the familiar sound of Madame's confident voice filled the room.
'Perhaps,' Erik said quietly and paced past the door. Christine held her breath.
'There's no perhaps, no one could have tended to her as you have. How is she?' Giry asked and she heard Erik sigh.
'She seems better although she hasn't spent much time awake.' He answered and Christine heard the sound of pouring water and then Erik's footsteps across the room. She saw his shadow in front of her.
'Thank you,' she heard Madame Giry say. 'She'll be well soon, I'm sure. It's been nearly a week now'
The words made her head whirl. She had been here, barely conscious for nearly a week. Christine glanced down at her body, patted her stomach, felt how thin she was but realised she was clean. Had he bathed and changed her?
'A week too long, Antoinette, I don't want her here,' he said firmly. Christine raised her hand to her mouth to stop the cry she felt building.
'I know that,' said the Madame. 'I know she hurt you but you must realise why this is happening.'
There was a moments silence before she continued.
'At last she's safe here, Erik,' Madame Giry said, her tone softening, almost affectionate. 'She needs to be somewhere they can't find her, they've been looking you know, keep bothering Meg with all their nonsense.'
'How does your daughter handle it?' he asked, sounding so removed.
'Sadly, if I'm honest,' she paused. 'She misses Christine, and tells them so.'
Christine almost heard the smile in Erik's tone when he next spoke, it unnerved her slightly.
'I'd invite her to visit,' he said, the edge in his voice not at all hidden 'But she never has been my biggest supporter.'
'She doesn't know you,' said Madame Giry, defensive and Christine heard Erik laugh. Christine mused that he always did have the oddest sense of humour. 'So, what will you do about Christine?'
'Must you use her name?' he asked and Christine closed her eyes. 'I'll keep her here until she is well enough to leave,' he continued, so matter-of-factly, so coldly.
'Where do you think she will go then, Erik?' she said.
'That's up to her,' he said, colder. Christine clamped her hand tighter to her own mouth, a tear touched her finger.
'Erik…'
'Don't, Antoinette, please,' he said firmly. 'Once she is well she leaves, that's it.'
Christine couldn't hear anymore, her stomach turned over and she felt suddenly faint, nausea touched every inch of her and as she stumbled back towards the bedroom her head hazed and she remembered seeing the floor briefly before she hit it.
'Hand me the cloth,' Erik's voice. She felt it, cold… so very cold, freezing, biting cold. Her head hurt. Something on her arm.
'Can you hear me?' Madame Giry now. Was she talking to her? I can hear you, she thought.
I can hear you.
She tried to mouth the words but her lips would not open. Her breathing was shallow, her brain pumped hard in her head, she felt her own pulse racing through her veins.
Erik's hand on her arm. Her hair. Brushing her hair back.
Thank you.
Still nothing came out, she heard movement, her senses were keen but her body was not, her mind swam in confusion. Still, no sound from her mouth.
Mumbling, why were they mumbling… talk to me, she thought. Please, I can hear you. She tried to move her hand but it wouldn't obey her mind. It just lay there, on the bed.
The bed.
How did she get on the bed? Wasn't she in the hallway? Click. A door closing. One set of footsteps now. Christine swallowed and tried to open her mouth again.
'Erik,'
'Christine,' he said, his voice low and calm. So smooth. His voice was to her ears what silk was to her skin. 'Shh, it's okay.'
'Erik…' she murmured. He placed his hand softly on her forehead, moving her hair carefully from her face. It was sticky with sweat again and the feeling it made his heart thump in his chest.
She had heard their conversation.
'It's okay,' he repeated, still calm. His hand brushed her cheek gently and he tucked the fresh blanket up to her chin, she sighed but didn't open her eyes. 'Are you awake?'
'Mmm,'
'Okay,' he said, once again dabbing her forehead with the cloth. 'Sleep now.'
'No,' she said, quietly. Erik dipped his finger into the cup of cold water on the night stand, he then leaned forward and brushed a droplet onto her lips. She licked it away slowly. 'More,'
He nodded as if she were looking at him and again placed a small amount of water on her lips. He knew she would be thirsty by now and he dealt with it as carefully as he always did. Or at least he thought he always did.
Erik had not expected her to be well enough to get out of bed or strong enough to walk by herself, he had wrongly anticipated that she would be bed ridden for much longer than a week. He had no intention of hurting her, making her more ill than she was. He had worked so tirelessly to get her well again.
He plucked the cup from the side and poured some more water onto the cloth, which he ran softly back over Christine's pale face. He was worried about her, this event may have caused her to lapse again and it would be a matter of waiting to see if she felt better. The clock was staring at him and he realised that it was nearly midnight and he hadn't even eaten. His eyes moved to the door and he patted his stomach before glancing back at the clock.
Food would have to wait, he thought, because for now Christine needed him.