Disclaimer: Don't have any hold on anything whatsoever (But I do have Gerald Butler tied up in my wardrobe until he agrees to sing Music of the Night to me for the rest of my life. However all I can seem to get out of him is "Crazed lunatic" but I'm still optimistic, he can last only so long without any clothes on don't you think?)
Erik opened his eyes to a bright room, with whitewashed walls and a low-beamed roof. A new experience for him. He tried to move but found himself trapped between crisp white sheets. He blinked a few times and opened his mouth to speak, but only a hoarse gasp came out.
"Its about time you woke up." A smooth, low toned voice spoke, "I was beginning to have some doubts."
Erik turned his head, which felt strangely light somehow, to look for the speaker. A lush bodied young woman sat calmly stitching a mass of dark blue fabric in a chair by an open window. An open book rested beside her and she was watching him with clear grey eyes.
"Where am I?" this came out in a croak worse than when he had sabotaged Carlotta in Il Muto.
"About half an hours walk from Dian, a little village a weeks journey south of Paris," replied the girl, carefully setting aside her needlework. She crossed to a small stand and poured a mix of two liquids from small decanters into a short glass. "Drink this," she ordered, Erik, with his brains still fuddled, took the glass without thinking and took a swallow.
The taste was foul! He choked and sputtered the stuff all over the bed sheets, he heard the girl sigh and glared up at her. "Are you trying to poison me?" he demanded in a low growl. The girl looked amused,
"After all the effort I went through to save you?" she asked, "Don't be a fool."
The man was still scowling at her, Louise rolled her eyes, "Hold your nose," she advised, "And swallow it quickly, otherwise you'll be croaking all week."
Erik obeyed, clamping his nose shut and tossing back the medicine in one gulp. The stuff burned down his throat and he rubbed at his nose vigorously as it tingled, especially the right side. His nose, all of it… Erik clapped a hand to his bare face, hiding his deformity. "Where's my mask?" he demanded, his voice already losing its rasp and slipping back into its smooth baritone.
"In the other room," the girl replied, offering him a tumbler of water, Erik ignored it.
"Give it…Return it to me at once!"
"I don't think so," said the girl, reaching over and prying his hand away. He refused to move it, so she dug her thumbnail into his hand, making him yelp.
"You have no right to keep it from me!" he shouted, "Unless you enjoy laughing at this deformed face!"
The girl set down the glass and advanced on him, "Au contraire monsieur, I have every right to keep your mask from you, and your deformity has nothing whatsoever to do with it." She snapped, pinning him with steely grey eyes. "I did not spend three days cleaning and stitching your wounds, and another week nursing you through the seven-day fever for you to sweat away under that mask of yours and reinfect the gash on your forehead!" she picked up the glass again and handed it to him. "Now," she said sweetly, "Drink up."
Erik only glared at her, fingering the stitches he had found on his forehead.
"I'll force it down your throat if I have to," she told him, Erik got the uncomfortable feeling she would too if he didn't do as she said so he gulped down the water.
"Ten days you say?" he rumbled, hand still half covering his face, "How did I get here?"
Louise lightly slapped his hand away, "You'll open your stitches of you do that," she reproved, she turned to a large trunk and opened it to remove a large pillow. "Head up," she advised, deftly slipping the soft cushion between his shoulders and the bed.
"Well?" he asked as she settled him back. A pewter-silver cross, swung free of her blouse and dangled above him, close to her pale throat.
"Two wagoners found you about a mile from here, they brought you to me. Oh don't worry," she assured him, catching Erik's stricken look. "They didn't see your face, I made sure of that. And I doubt they'll say anything."
Erik nodded, too exhausted to say much any more, when, to his embarrassment, his stomach gave a complaining growl, pointedly reminding him that he had not eaten in the past few days. The girl laughed, "I'll be right back," she said, moving out of the room. Erik closed his eyes, it was too much to handle, strange that the girl didn't seem phased by his face though, he opened them again when a rich scent assailed his senses. The girl bore a tray with a bowl of warm broth and a pot of steaming tea. Erik struggled into a sitting position as she handed him a bowl and a spoon.
"Eat it slowly," she advised, "Your stomach's not yet used to food still."
Erik did as he was told, spooning the liquid into his mouth. The broth was good, evidently this woman knew her way around the kitchen.
"Thankyou," he said quietly, when he was finished. The girl looked up from her book, where she had been nursing a cup of tea. "You're welcome." She smiled, rising to take his bowl. She placed it on the tray and then picked out a small stone jar from a neat shelf beside the window.
"Now," she said, untucking the covers, "Let's see about that leg of yours."
"What?" Erik asked, trying valiantly to pull the covers around him. Despite all efforts to maintain his dignity, in his fever weakened state, this young sprite of a girl (who was she anyway?) had no trouble him down and pulling up the covers to expose his leg to the light, Erik looked down at the mass of purple-yellow bruising and neat black stitches and felt sick, (How had he done that?)
"Just hold still," the girl commanded imperiously. "I'd really prefer not to have to deal with reinfection."
Erik lay back, feeling utterly humiliated as the girl ran probing fingers over his injury. He winced as she pressed in a particularly tender spot, then reached for her jar and a small wooden spatula. "This may feel a little strange," she warned scooping up a slick of thick green paste. With slow smooth strokes, she spread the pungent mix on his wound.
"Merde!" Erik hissed as his leg tingled uncontrollably, his toes twitched a mad jig as he gritted his teeth in frustration. The girl offered him a smile, "It wont last long, I promise," she said, skimming off excess ointment. She took a roll of bandages and began to wrap Erik's leg, careful not to get any cream on her hands. Erik thought about protesting as her wrapping moved higher and higher up his leg, but didn't think it would really get him anywhere. Slowly the tingle faded and his leg began to feel numb.
"What is your name, Mademoiselle?" he asked instead. The girl tied a final knot in the bandage and straightened, brushing dust from her skirt.
"Louise," she answered with a smile, "Now you need sleep Monsieur, I will be here if you need me." She crossed to the window and closed the shutters."
"Erik, please," he told her, she nodded, and collected the tray. "Sleep well Monsieur Erik," she replied, softly closing the door behind her as Erik fell back into sleep.