I do not understand this rumor about no review replies. Until I find out the truth, or am yelled at, I shall not stop.
Mouette: Yes, I love Gerik's hair too much to let him die. It's very difficult to have and EC ending without an E, no? And it wasn't intentional that I leave it for a week (actually over). Originally it was just a threat, meant to spur on reviews. But my muse went on summer vacation to Aruba and forgot to bring me, so this chap was slow in coming. Sorry!
Twinkle22: Thanks, Twinkle, I'm glad to have another steady reviewer! (please?)
Savy/ intoxicated by eriks music: wow. talk about a blow up! I'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry! Yes, you can have more fluff, you'll just have to wait a little. These are not fluffy moments as of yet. And of course, to have proper fluff, one must have Erik. So there's your second order. Anything else?
draegonfire: Thanks as always for being my editor!
atricesparrow: Surely you do not suspect me of such atrocities as to leave it there forever and ever! I had hoped that Persian thing would be a bit clearer, but maybe it was just me. Hopefully you'll understand in this chapter, but I'll explain at the bottom just in case there was anyone else confused.
Son Kat: yes I am evil. MWAHAHA! and strange. I am weird, hear me roar: Moooooooo...!
Celestial Secrets: Gaaaaaaaaah! Not the porkchop! Not another foam fight! and how do you get that little sunny thing? I like it. And your oh-so-fashionable style is absolutely lovely, and they've got marvelous stuff at TGMAXX, did you know? I just got 4 Jeans, a pair of shorts and an awesome skirt for 35 dollars! you have got to go there. I would publish chocolate pudding if I could...but perhaps I will, in my humor fic (if it is ever created)
TOO ALL YOU PEOPLE WHO LURK AND REFUSE TO REVIEW: I know you are there, my hit counter sees all! I should have at least twice as many reviews as I do, if my hit counter is perfectly accurate (which it had better be!) Unless of course you all think my story worth crap, not like it isn't, but at least tell me what can be improved if you don't like it!
And chocolate pudding to whomever may be my 50th reviewer, and cookies if you wish!
Angel's Revival
Christine gaped in a dazed horror at the sight before her. "Oh, Lord, not now, no. Erik? Erik!" Collapsing beside his body in the water, she placed one arm under his head and then turned him over with the other. "Oh Erik…!" She gasped, paling. His shirt was soaked with blood. "No! My angel…." Christine began to weep.
Erik's mind was clouded by pain; he could move, couldn't think, he could hardly breathe, even when he felt himself being pulled out of the water. He could hear Christine moaning in apparent anguish. He had heard her cry out when he was placed on his back, and now he felt her tears fall on his face. Struggling to clear the fog in his brain, he opened his eyes and looked at her. "Hush, my dear, be still…." he mumbled.
Christine opened her own when she heard him speak, jubilation and relief written all over her face. He is not dead! "Oh Erik, I thought you had left me." She reached out, about to open his shirt to inspect the damage.
"I know," Erik said, stilling her hands, "but could you get me out of this lake first?
"Of course, but--ah…"Christine sighed, Erik had faded back into unconsciousness again. But how am I supposed to get him anywhere? She glanced up again, hearing a splash near the edge of the lake, into the eyes of the Persian.
"Perhaps I can be of assistance to you, Mademoiselle?" He asked pointedly, nodding at the unconscious Phantom.
"Oh, please, yes, thank you," she stammered, ashamed to have been staring. "Would you take him to a more….fitting reposal, please?" Christine requested as the Persian lifted Erik easily over his shoulder.
"Certainly, Mademoiselle Daae, but what do wish done with that," he jerked his head in the fop's general direction, "disgrace to the male population?"
"Raoul!" Christine had temporarily forgotten him, having been so worried about Erik, but now splashed toward him and lifted his head out of the water, drowning him would do no good. "Yes, just lay Erik down on the bed, please, I'll see to him, and then if you would not mind, take Raoul up to Madame Giry?" Christine was feeling very uncomfortable directing this unfamiliar man whom she had formerly only regarded with fear.
With only a moment's pause to ponder Christine's lack of concern over her former fiancé, the Persian strolled off to the left, Erik dangling limply.
"Wait!" Christine called out after him. "Where are you taking Erik?"
"To his room, mademoiselle, as you had said," he stated, bewildered.
"Oh please don't take him to that morgue, I wasn't him to get better, not die! Just lay him in the other room." Christine waved him to the right somewhat distractedly, trying to distinguish between the air drafts moving through the cavern and Raoul's possible breathing.
"As you wish," he shrugged. "But you will have to take the 'morgue' as you call it," the Persian called over his shoulder, striding off.
Au contraire, thought Christine with a smirk. I shan't be sleeping in there at all.
XXXXX
She does have a point, thought Kahveh. This room is certainly less tomb-like than Erik's.
"The other room," as Christine referred to it, was far better appointed than Kahveh's original destination. The walls, made of cold, gray stone, were covered in rich velvet tapestries, all in either inky black or deep wine red to give it warmth. In the corner was a gorgeous fireplace, its mantle carved out of the stone and looking very grand and impressive even in the large room. In front of it and all across the floor were beautiful Persian carpets, plush and luxurious to walk on, softening even the cave floor. As Kahveh treaded silently across them, he noticed the fragrant arrangements of burgundy roses placed around the room, interspersed with candles, giving the room a much lighter and decidedly feminine air. This room was no doubt intended for Christine, even down to the wardrobe on the near wall, assuredly filled with an array of gowns fit for an empress, all bought with her in mind. As he surveyed the expanse, Kahveh's eyes fell upon the center. A bed, handsomely sculpted from dark mahogany into the shape of a swan, dominated the chamber. Piled high with soft pillows of the same colors as the drapes, it looked as though sleeping upon it would be sweeter than sleeping on a cloud. No wonder Christine wanted Erik brought in here; it's so much more comfortable. He had always wanted a wife like that, who would give up personal comfort when faced with her husband's needs…. Shaking himself back to reality, Kahveh carefully, if unceremoniously, laid Erik on the swan bed and hurried out to attend to the half-drowned fop. Raoul, he reminded himself. Letting "fop" slip out when addressing the Vicomte would not do at all.
XXXXX
Christine, now thoroughly soaked in both blood and water, was trying futilely to get the gunshot wound in Raoul's side to stop bleeding so profusely. The Persian should have been back by now, it seemed so long. But perhaps she was only imagining it. Hearing footsteps, she twisted to see behind her. "Oh, thank goodness, you're back!" Suddenly she realized that she didn't even know his name. "I beg pardon if I seem rude in asking, but who are you?"
Unsure of how much Erik had revealed to her of his past, Kahveh simply stated, "You may call me Monsieur Tallis, mademoiselle, until Erik sees fit to give us a proper introduction."
"Charmed to meet you, Monsieur Tallis," Christine abruptly broke off her usual introductory speech. "Oh, just listen to us, exchanging silly formalities while two men are dying! I really must see to Erik now, you know the way to Madame Giry's flat, I assume? Excellent. Now if you will excuse me…." she trailed off, turning Raoul's custody over to Kahveh and hurriedly splashing out of the lake toward the room where Erik lied.
And so I have to deliver the man I shot into the arms of one of the most powerful women in the Opera, Kahveh thought as Christine disappeared. What lovely complications.
XXXXX
The sight which greeted Christine as she entered the bedroom was hardly encouraging. Erik looked terribly ghostlike, his face drained of color, his usually busy hands lying still, almost as in death, by his side, and his shirt drenched with blood. She flew to the bedside in alarm, placing her hand on the crimson material covering his chest, praying he hadn't stopped breathing, for he looked for all the world like a corpse. (bad pun not intended). "Oh Lord, be merciful, don't let him die!" Christine whispered, taking Erik's cold hand in her own warm ones. "I love him…." Letting go, she went to the small buttons on his shirt, undoing them, and then gently removed the fabric from him. "Oh, God!" Christine gasped. A sword-gash, as wide as two of her fingers, scored Erik's torso with a gruesome line, meandering down across his abdomen (alas, marring his magnificent six-pack) until it trailed off his side, ending just past his waist. "My angel, my angel…." she whispered in dismay. (after all, who wouldn't, his hotness has just been terribly messed up) Reminding herself this was no time for drama, Christine rose and quickly fetched a bowl of warm water, bandages and rags for the task ahead of her. (notice defined lack of shirt)
XXXXX
Kahveh poled the gondola along, ferrying the unconscious fop to the other side of the lake in order to turn him over to Madame Giry, muttering Persian curses the whole way, regretting his soft heart for weeping women. Why had he agreed to take the boy to safety? It would have been so much easier to let him die, gods knew he deserved it---.
Arriving at his destination, Kahveh fastened the boat and then threw the Vicomte over his shoulder, heading off toward a short cut that would take him to Madame Giry faster. The sooner he got this bloody mess of a boy off his shoulder the better.
XXXXX
As Christine finished binding Erik's wound, she trailed her fingers lightly over the exposed part of his chest. Oh how she loved him. Knowing he couldn't hear her but wishing he could, she told him so. "Erik, I love you." Placing a gentle kiss and a touch on his deformed face, she got up and went to the right side of the swan bed. Christine crawled in, still in the wet, bloody wedding gown, and tucked herself under his arm, resting comfortably and conforming perfectly to his frame. Slowly she drifted off to sleep, one hand still resting on his scars.
Happy now? He's not dead, Raoul might be though, who knows? And about the one shot, two hits thing. Kahveh fired at Raoul. Raoul was only a few feet away from Erik when he was hit. His momentum carried him forward, hence the sword he was carrying came into contact with Erik. So Erik got a big nasty cut. comprende?
And I am doing a double update since I am not going to be near a computer for a week. But, you may not read ahead until Monday, at least! Pretend that I update then, with chapter 8. I mean, it seriously won't be too hard, there's no gynormous cliffie, except on Raoul, but even that isn't too awful.