A/N - Hello my beloved! I am sorry I have taken so long. First, I wrote this chapter twice. The first time it was too fluffy. I am sorry, but I had to murder a majority of the fluff. Secondly, I have started classes again. Boohoo. I am now in a very boring computer class that I could teach :).
I am out of time, however. Therefore, this chapter might end awkwardly because they kick me out. I will finish as soon as I can manage, and update soon. Be patient with me as I settle into a new routine.
Echo - I am glad you're enjoying the other story. When I was reading over it, I found that the writing style seems a bit different to me than this one. What do you think? I can't put my finger on it, and I'm not sure I prefer one or the other, but it seemed very different. Hm. Anyway, I need some OW. C'mon girl!
Cassie - I am glad you're pleased with Erik, finally. Hope that continues.
AngelicFlutist - Where are you? I missed your faithful reviews. Check out my other story too, okay?
Everyone else - I know there are a bunch of you lurking and reading! Please review! The more attention I get the more I might be inspired to forget homework and write obsessively. C'mon!
The sound of gunfire resounded throughout the cavern, in almost painful clarity. Each of the sleeping figures within bolted upright. Nicholas found himself alone in a darkened room. When had his father left? He couldn't be sure.
Elizabeth was alone as well, though was not suited to be so. She quickly scurried from her ornate bed and ran barefoot into the main parlor. Her mother was sitting upright with wide eyes.
"What was that?" Elizabeth hissed insistently. Nicholas was suddenly standing at the door of his room. Elizabeth turned quickly to gaze at him.
"Nicholas!" She smiled, though the pretty expression was short-lived. "You're up! Are you well? What happened?"
"Erik is, apparently, an apothecary as well. He had some magic tincture to return my strength. But where is he?"
A blank stare answered him, and she would have spoken if Christine had not interrupted.
"Elizabeth," she muttered, trying to bring her daughter back to the moment, to pressing matters. Erik was nowhere within sight, and a shot had been fired. He could very well be dead. But should she be pleased at such a thought, or horrified? Christine shuddered at the confusion that filled her.
Another shot filled the air, and three set's of eyes sprang toward it's origin. A tense silence followed.
"Where is he?" Elizabeth breathed. Nicholas crossed toward her, placing his hands on her shoulders in comfort.
They could do precious little except wait. Nicholas was not feeling quite strong enough to venture off into the dark tunnels alone, and neither would he permit Elizabeth. Christine could scarcely move from the sofa she had slept upon.
"Elizabeth, tend to your mother's wounds." Nicholas urged her calmly.
Elizabeth glanced up at him, wondering where he could find such peace in their haggard situation. He simply smiled down at her, and she noticed for the first time that his mask was replaced. It was eerie how much he resembled his father.
Nicholas seen her expression change, a different emotion reflected within the dark orbs. Was it distrust? Worry? Fear? He could not say for certain, but he did know that she had never cast such a glance his way until all of this had taken place. Would she reject him now, that she had seen his origins? Would she hate him because of the madness of his father? His jaw tightened, and he averted his eyes, unintentionally responding in the exact same way his father would. Elizabeth inclined her head in acquiesance and turned to tend to her mother. The bandages needed changing, and more salve needed to be applied. Otherwise, she was healing beautifully.
Time elapsed, with Nicholas pilfering idly through a stack of notes atop the organ. Elizabeth was busy with Christine, who seemed too distraught to speak. Finally, the silence was interrupted by a familiar tenor.
"Have you missed me?" Erik appeared, disheveled and angry. As he stalked up from the waters, Nicholas approached him first.
"We heard shots. Who was injured?" Erik nearly snorted at the sudden strength he found in his son. It was quite different from the pale boy laying upon death's door only (how many?) hours before.
"No one." Erik lied grimly. Upon closer inspection, Nicholas found that Erik's right shoulder was bleeding. He reached to touch it, and Erik swatted his hands away. Nicholas glared at him evenly, and then reached for it again. This time Erik consented, allowing the sleeve of his shirt to be torn away. The bullet had torn the flesh of his shoulder, but only as it grazed along it. It was little more than a deep scratch, and would heal easily. Both women had quieted, and were watching the scene closely. Their eyes widened as Nicholas defied Erik so openly. Most surprising, however, was the phantom's acceptance of it.
"Elizabeth," Nicholas called. She obeyed quickly, bringing her supplies over.
"Please sit," she asked Erik, in quite a meek tone. Erik growled lightly, but did so. He could feel the girl's hands tremble as she attended his wound. Nicholas hovered.
"Do not dote, Nicholas. I will not touch her," the words sounded bitter. Nicholas inclined his head lightly, and retreated a few paces. Once the wounds were properly bandaged, he pressed.
"Who was shooting, Father?" All heads spun in his direction as he so easily addressed Erik as such. Erik felt the term with a sudden weight, and a detached affection.
Erik hesitated to answer, and then glanced toward Christine. Anger was evident in his cool features, and he nearly hissed the name.
"Our precious Raoul."