Erik once again his his masked face behind a large hood, tugging it around his face protectively. More then once, a passer by would knock shoulders with him, one accidently trod on his foot, another, with a abby stroller yelled at him to move aside. Each rude encounter left Erik desperately wanting to shout at them, but he forced himself to deal with a low growl to satisfy his frustration. Perhaps it was better being stuck down in that damp, dark lair….. a could memory of being out in the open as a child, his face unguarded by anymask, and the harsh shouts of children as they jeered and taunted, the horrified screams of mothers who bundled up their children and hustled away quickly. It had beeen a mistake that had led to his mother selling him to a Gypsy fair out of desperation, and lack of anything else to do with a hideously deformed son. No. life was preferable away from the screams of terror and insults being tossed at him along with the rotten fruit.
Erik dodged another person that hurried past without a word of apology, muttering to himself. The things he did for Margareite….the things his risked for that child. She would be the death of him one day. In the past three months that Margareite had stayed with erik, she had slowly, but surley become more accustomed to erik, and even gotten to te point where she could touch him in small ways; a brush of the hand in passing an object, the grasp of an arm as she tripped once, and other small whispers of trust gave erik more room emotionally to maneuver around the girl's eternal wounds. However, the Phantom dare never touch her of his own choice. He never even thought to touch her upon his own initiation for fear that she may clam back up into a hell that she had proved she could lock herself into quite efficiently for some time. However much she had healed phisiclly, however, Erik could not cure all the pain, and the leg that had been injured had been giving her problems recently the past few weeks. Thus his trip to town to purchase whatever pain medicine he could.
After the opera had burned down, he had had no financial income, but still had some money in a small fortune that he had gathered by extracting small amounts of his paycheck to put aside in case of a time when money would not be provided. He had never been so glad to see a small hill of shining coins when he gathered the money needed fr the pain relief medicine.
Ah, there it was. Dr. Jorvin's Medical Shoppe. The man would be from England no doubt, with store's title being spelled and presented in the fashion it was. Not to mention the name was not a French one. Entering the small medical shop, erik hunched over in the brightly lit shop filled with large candles that eluminated light thouroughly, being sure to hide his milk white mask. Scanning the rows with his sharp eyes, Erik spotted the pain relief, the one section consisting of one brand of which there were many bottles. Grabbing a little brown glass container, and carrying it to the front desk, Erik shoved the charged amount of coins onto the desktop surface , swiped the bottle into his cloak pocket and had turned to leave when a name spoken behind him aught his ear,
" …De Chaney mistress is off terribly and will need more penicillin before the next fore night, so order more in if you can, please."
Erik's heart skipped a beat, then began to thunder visciously in his chest. Breathing was suddenly very, so very hard to do, and his knees found the taks of keeping him upright suddenly very difficult.
Christine. Sick. It couldn't be and yet… how many De Chaney's could there possibly be in Paris beside Christine and Raoul? No doubt that boy was too spoiled to know how to care for a sick maiden. No, there was no piossiblity that the young man knew anthing about medicine. Erik, however had studied it in his spare time and even had to administer himself stitches. Surly Erik was a far more competent man to care for Christine then Raoul. The boy would end up killing her! Erik could not possibly sit back and watch as Raoul killed the woman he loved with ignorance. NO! He would not stand for it!

" what do you mean we're going? Going WHERE Erik?"
Erik tossed one of the girl's dresses into a small pile of clothes that had formed as he had thrown a mixture of both his and Margareite's belongings into one area.
" A small journey, nothing more," Erik assured her, walking a circle around the child, blinded by puropuse, he'd forgotten about keeping his space, and his stomache padded, however gently, agaisnt Margareite's shopulder, causing her to jump back drastically.
Hearing her gasp, Erik turned sharpluy, immidiatly knelting own before her, searchig her expresssion .
" I didnt-
Margareite shook her head, eyes closed, and gulped painfully, laying her smsll hand on his shoulder.
"IKt- it's ok," she assured him. " Just- just tell me where we're going."
Erik sighed heavily, rasing to his full hight slowly, Margareite's eyes following him without their old intimidation. He turned his back to her, his shoulders slouched. What was he to say? How was he to explain about Christine? About what had happened three months ago?
"Erik?"
Clenching his jaw before answering, Erik turned, motioning for her to take a seat on the bed.
"I'm not sure how to explain this..."
And Erik began to tell his side of the fabled legends of the Phantom of the Opera