Greetings, all, and thank you for your patience. This story has sort of gotten pushed to the back burner, so to speak, while I have been focusing on other projects, but I haven't forgotten about it. I promise to try and update on a more regular basis! Thanks to all the kind folks who have reviewed this little work, and I hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: I do not own the recognizable characters from Phantom of the Opera, nor am I making any profit from this writing.
Chapter 7: They Meet At Last!
A rhythmic, stabbing pain that seemed to throb in sync with her heartbeat pulled Juliette back from the void. Without opening her eyes, she reached for the source of the pain, and grimaced when her fingers encountered her tender, recently bandaged forehead. The pounding increased when she tried to sit up, and she was sure that if she opened her eyes that the dizziness she was feeling would have her tossing her cookies in a heartbeat. A groan of mingled pain and frustration, along with a few choice expletives, escaped her as she sank back down into the pillows.
"Tsk, Tsk, Tsk…such language coming from such a pretty mouth…Miss Phelps, you shock me!"
The velvety smooth voice from out of nowhere almost made her leap out of her skin, but she managed to hide her reaction well. Maintaining her cool, she replied to his comment with the only weapon available to her at that moment—sarcasm. "You'd be uttering profanities too if you had a gnome inside your head trying to hack his way out of your skull with an ice pick. So please excuse me if my choice of words has offended your "gentler sensibilities." A warm, amused chuckle was his only reply.
. Wincing as her head pounded even harder, she felt the bandage again, a look of confusion on her face. "I feel like I just went a few rounds with Evander Holyfield….what the hell happened, anyway? The last thing I remember is reading a letter from…someone…then nothing." She heard a rustling noise, and the sound of papers shuffling from her right, and realized that the man had been sitting at the writing desk to the left of the bed.
"You struck your head on the bedside table when you fainted. The injury required 3 stitches, and if I am correct, you've got a slight concussion. I've got something here that should help with the pain." She heard the sound of liquid being poured into a glass, and realized that she was suddenly extremely thirsty. The side of the bed dipped, and a couple of pills were placed in her hand. A hand behind her shoulders raised her up just enough for her to pop the pills and wash them down with the water.
"Are you the doctor?" He didn't answer her, but she felt him move; seconds later she was blinking furiously, blinded from the brilliance of his penlight as he checked her pupil's responses. She tried again. "What time is it? How long have I been unconscious? And how, pray tell, do you know how my injury was caused? Are you psychic, or do these walls have eyes and ears?"
"Are all Americans as inquisitive as you, Miss Phelps? So many questions.."
"How did you know I was an Amer.." She stopped short and answered her own question. "Oh…duh…the accent is pretty much a dead giveaway, isn't it?"
She heard him chuckle again "You could say that. And as to your inquiries, it is close to 5 pm…you've been unconscious for a little over 4 hours. I am not a doctor, though I do have some experience with injuries. Madame Geery was the one who stitched your head—a very neat job she did of it too. There shouldn't even be a scar."
"If you're not a doctor, then what are you doing here? I don't recall meeting you before, and the last time I checked I was a little old to need a babysitter. And you still didn't answer my other question…how did you know the details of how I was injured when I can barely remember them myself?"
"You remind me of a rotweiller, Miss Phelps….once you sink your teeth into something, you don't let go, do you?"
(((Damn…that voice could talk a nun out of her granny panties, it's so smooth…))) Juliette opened her eyes partway and tried to focus her blurry eyes on the profile of her dark clothed antagonist, blinking rapidly. " I'm not sure if I should be flattered or insulted, sir….although I have to admit, I've never been called a bitch quite so eloquently before."
His warm chuckle washed over her again, and she was had to fight hard to repress the shiver that went through her at the sound. "No insult was intended, Mademoiselle… I was just making an observation. Madame Geery asked me to spell her for a bit while she took care of Chateau business, although I would have done so even if she had not asked."
That admission sent a chill of a different sort down Juliette's spine. "Why would you do such a thing for a perfect stranger? I don't even know your name."
She heard his heavy sigh, and opening her eyes once more she watched as he rose and walked to the window, pulling aside the shade and glancing out at the setting sun before speaking. "It was my negligence and apathy regarding the staff at the chateau that led to your injury. I was furious when Joseph attempted to hurt you and felt it was my duty to avenge your honor." He let the shade drop and turned back to face the bed. "However, I didn't take into consideration what your reaction would be to the letter I left for you this morning; I only wanted you to know that you were safe and that he was no longer in a position to threaten you. Therefore, through my actions I am directly responsible for your pain."
There was a sudden tension in the room that hadn't been there moments before as the information he had just imparted sank in to Juliette's whirling brain. HE wrote the letter this morning…that meant that he wrote the other notes and left the flowers and… Her eyes flew open once more, and this time she was able to focus on the man who had been haunting her since she arrived. A sable-haired man in a black cable knit sweater and slacks, his white half mask a startling contrast to the darkness of his clothing. He was tall, slender, and appeared to be well developed beneath his tailored clothing. The uncovered portion of his face was handsome, startlingly so, and Juliette was suddenly embarrassed to be to focus of his attention. Oh no…if he's the one that wrote the notes, that means that he.…Oh no!
At her sudden gasp and moan, he took three wide strides and was suddenly at her side, grasping her hands and pulling them down from over her eyes. "What is it, petite? Are you in pain?" When she shook her head no and squeezed her eyes shut, he became irritated. "Why are you crying?" he ground out, his eyes flashing as he took in her suddenly flaming face and the tears. "Do I frighten you so much, then? You think I am such a monster that I would harm you?"
"No…its not that. If you had wanted me dead, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"If not fear, then what is the cause of your tears?"
"Gee, let me it be that I woke up to find the weirdo that's been leaving me tokens and letters has been watching me in my sleep. Or the fact that one of those tokens nearly caused me to asphyxiate? Or it might be the thought of someone having been harmed or maybe even killed because of me is a bit upsetting! I handled the situation this morning perfectly well, on my own I might add, and then I find this note saying that Joseph would never harm me or any other female again…how do you think that makes me feel? And to top it all off, if you are indeed the one who's been writing the notes to me, you saw me naked and had the testicular fortitude to comment on that fact in writing! Pardon me if I am overly emotional—I'm a bit stressed at the moment, and I wish you would just go away!"
"Pauvre petite—this job has not been what you were expecting, was it?" The grip on her wrists was gone, and the tension in the room eased visibly. She heard him chuckle again, and opened her eyes to glare at him, only to jerk her head away as he attempted to wipe her face with the handkerchief that had suddenly appeared in his hand. Growling a warning, he grasping her chin with his left hand and wiped her face before placing the cloth in one of her hands. "Relax, Miss Phelps, neither of us have black marks on our souls, at least not for the death of Joseph Buquet. He is very much alive, although a bit worse for wear, and is in police custody as we speak. I have already apologized for the rose incident, and as for the other, well, I could not let such beauty go unremarked upon---I am French, after all, and we are not known for showing restraint where beauty is concerned…" He rose from the bed and stood looking down at her, his head tilted slightly as he looked down at her from his great height. "However, if seeing me au naturale would satisfy your sense of fair play?" With that comment he began to lift his sweater off over his head, revealing chiseled 6 pack abs and a narrow waist above his belted trousers.
(((OH YEAH BABY! TAKE IT OFF…HAVE MERCY!))) Her subconscious mind was dancing a jig along with her hormones at the same time she managed to squeak out a strangled "No!", blushing and closing her eyes against the tempting sight. She opened them a moment later to find him still standing there, his arms crossed and clothing intact as he watched her, an amused expression on his face---an expression that let her know that he knew exactly how his proximity affected her.
The ache in her head finally easing a bit, Juliette slid up against the headboard and met his amused gaze head on. "Listen, Mr. Phantom, or O.G., or whatever you call yourself, I am a big girl. I appreciate your concern, but I can take care of myself, I have done so for years, and I don't need any help from you. I came here to do a job, so please stop with the notes and flowers and let me get on with what I came here to do so I can get the hell out and get on with my life. Now, do we have an understanding, or am I going to have to get medieval on your ass?"
That comment earned her a full fledged laugh from the man in black before her. "Ahh, mademoiselle, you never cease to astound me. I got the genus wrong—you are a feline, not a canine….mewling like a helpless kitten one minute, and snarling like a ferocious lioness the next." He leaned over the bed, resting his weight on his fists on either side of her hips as he leaned in close. "It is my nature to study things and people who…interest me, and you, Miss Phelps, happen to fall into that category. Besides, we get so few visitors to the Chateau that I was in danger of succumbing to boredom until you arrived. I have already made you a promise that I will respect your privacy, petite, but don't expect me not to look out for you. I am a creature of habit, after all, and you are very easy on the eyes." His predatory grin infuriated her, and if looks could kill he would be stone cold dead. Juliette watched silently as he walked across the room, and gasped when a portion of the wall swung open as if by magic as he approached it. He paused, one hand on the secret panel, smirking as he looked back at her stunned expression.
"My name is Eric, and please tell Mrs. Geery I am sorry that I couldn't stay until she returned, but a certain patient of hers wasn't impressed with my bedside manner. Rest well, mademoiselle." And with that, he vanished, the panel slipping silently shut behind him.