Just how far had Margariete gotten? Surely she couldn't have reached any farther then the main flooded corridor to the west wing of the theatre? He hadn't sat and talked to Christine THAT long had he?
Erik made his way through the cold water, breast stroking smoothly, wondering at the girl's disappearance. He had monitored the amount of splashing he allowed himself in hopes he might be able to hear her somewhere along the water ways, but so far had had no luck. HE was beginning to worry desperately for the girl. What if she HAD infact tipped over? What if in the process of falling out had hit her head, rendering her unconscious and unable to call for help? Erik's heart pounded heavily within his chest at this thought, driving him to push himself faster.
He should never have listened to Christine. Should never have let Margariete go off alone. She didn't know the water ways or the dry part of the labyrinth, and she didn't know ho to control the gondola. HE should never have pushed as far as he did when he knew how uncomfortable it made her. He should never have-
He was startled by the feeling of something solid bumping against his kicking legs and he jump causing him to swallow a mouthful of untastley water. Had it merely been a fish? There were a few down here… but no. It had been far too heavy, too limp to be a fish. Erik's heart that had beaten heavily in his chest before now panged painfully. Again he felt something brush his leg, but this time, he recognized the feel of material against his skin where the water pulled his pant leg up. It was unmistakable now. Taking a sharp, deep breath, Erik dove under feeling around about him in the dark water not daring to open his eyes for the bacteria that floated around him. After a moment of searching, he was forced to surface again, his lungs screaming for air. HE took two deep breaths before he could hold another one and dove back down determined to find Marguerite's limp form. He swam a little farther, continuing to feel about him. Soon enough his lungs burned with the desperation for air, but he HAD to find her. If he went up again he might well loose her! Ignoring his need for breath, he searched frantically about him until finally-
The girl's fingers brushed his in a deathly dead man's touch. Erik immediately reached out and grasped her little wrist tightly, pulling her unconscious form to him, and resurfacing with a huge gasp of air, looking about him widely. Where was that cursed gondola when he needed it? But the little boat was no where to be see, forcing him, grudgingly, to swim with Margareite clasped tightly to his side by one arm, and stroking with the other.
It was a painstakingly slow process, but he could feel her breathing, immensely grateful that he did not have to fear her a death of drowning due to water in her lungs before he could do anything about it. Halfway back to his cave, Erik's limbs began to rebel, burning with exhaustion, his stronger of the two legs with which he had been propelling the hardest refused to obey his commands any longer, simply refusing to kick, his other leg flaying weakly about, his arm used to push himself forward weighing as if a brick were tied to it. The man fought with his tiring body, forcing it to move and pushing himself along the moss covered wall for support. His breath was coming in short, harsh gasps that did nothing more then tire his lungs out farther, and was continually gagging on the green water surrounding him. But all of this, he ignored, the only thing within his mind being to get Margariete to land where he could help her. Finally, just as Erik was finally giving way to his exhaustion, the gate appeared before him. He grasped the bars, resting heavily against them.
"Christ-Christine…" his voice was breathy, and wasn't sure of Christine had heard him, but he did not have the energy to call out again. The young woman appeared from behind the large chair at the sound of his raspy voice, rushing to open the gate. Erik was forced to let go his only support, but thankfully handed Margariete over to Christie who had waded out to the gate, then surprisingly, put a supporting arm around Erik, supporting both. As much as he tried to support himself, the Phantom man found himself leaning most of his weight upon the sick Christine, who now supported both girl and man. It was a short ways to wade through the water, and until the level lowered to her knees, the water helped her with some of the weight, but by the time they reached the banks of the lake, her brow was wet with perspiration, her hair once again soaked around her forehead and temples. All three, Margariet falling limply across Christine, slumped to the ground just about the banks, worn to the bone. Christine found herself bitterly cursing herself within her mind. Erik had haled himself AND an unconscious girl for what must have been quite a way, while she had not traveled even a quarter of such.
Christine looked tiredly at the girl that lay like a rag doll across her stomach, her head resting against Erik's shoulder. Her hair was a sopping mess, the thick brown locks falling akimbo, dripping with water, her dress clinging to her little body. But she was sill breathing. Thank god for that, Christine thought to herself before blanking out.
Erik had head Christine's head fall with a soft thump to the ground and groaned when he realized he had now two bodies to move, both unconscious.
"Lovely," he muttered to himself, laying still for a few moments before gathering the will to sit up, and kneel before Magrareite and lifting her, with what would normally have been ease, with a certain about of effort.
"I don't look forward to lifting you, Christine," he groaned, hefting the small body in his hands and carrying her up the steps and laying her on the far side of the velvet clad bed. He found himself very glad that by the time he reached Christine, his strength was replenishing already, and he used about the same effort cast out to carry margareite a moment ago. Lovingly, the Phantom set Christine next to margareite and covered them both, tucking each in with tender care. He stood about Christine a moment, gazing longingly at he wan, but still lovely face, following the gentle curve of her jaw and the line of her smooth neck on her lady like shoulders and grazing his eyes long her collarbone, not allowing himself to look any farther. He turned way abruptly.
Christine was not his, nor would she ever be. He had taken her in- STOLEN her, a bitter voice in the back of his mind rang-to care for her until she was back to health.
"And hat I job I have done of that," he mumbled to himself striding down the stairs. He grasped the glass of wine he had offered to Christine earlier that sat, untouched, upon the wooden table, taking it in his hands and holding it gently as he did Margariete's wrists, ad as he would have if he ever held Christine in his arms again. Gods knew that he wanted her as badly as he ever had, but she belonged to Raoul, and it would be Raoul that would have her once she was well. Raoul that would hold and kiss and love her, while Erik stayed here, in this cold and dismal place, caring for a broken child.
"Raoul," he whispered harshly, his face contorted in jealousy and anger, before gulping the serving of blood like liquid, then throwing it with a will into the lake below.