Chapter Nine

Wounded Warrior

With a sigh of exhaustion Christine sat down on the bed. She looked around herself with bitter satisfaction. Earlier she had decided that if she was going to be stuck here for an extended period of time then she would make herself as comfortable as she was able.

She had cleaned up the many cobwebs she had found along with the dust and rearranged the furniture to suit her liking. Her meager belongings were in a trunk at the foot of the bed and all in all it was not uncomfortable.

She had been glad to find a fire place in the room and had lit it eagerly against the cold winter air. Christine's small body was exhausted and she lay back on the bed with a sigh. She stared up at the cold ceiling of her room.

Papa, if you are up there, please watch over me. I am scared and I wish you were here to guide me…I miss you so much and want you to know that I love you dearly…

It had to have been four days since she had come here. It felt like an eternity and her despair only tightened her chest. A loud knock on the door jostled her from her bed in alarm. She knew it was not Erik; Erik would not have bothered knocking. Pulling a robe over her chemise she went to the door and cautiously opened it. She gave a sigh when she saw that it was the older man, Rupert. She trusted him somewhat.

"Mademoiselle, I am sorry to disturb you, but I need your help," he said, a note of panic in his voice. Christine frowned, what was going on.

"Of course, but what has happened?" she asked curiously.

"Erik, he is hurt," Rupert replied. Christine took a step back. Erik was the one who needed help?

"I-what happened?" she muttered.

"There is no time to explain, if you do not hurry he will not see dawn," Rupert said. Christine gasped and rushed to follow him. Any of the fear she had had of Erik moments before had disappeared. She would always help someone who was in trouble, no matter who he was or what he had done. Christine was led to the chambers she knew were Erik's and followed Rupert inside.

A shaft of moonlight slanted through the window to illuminate Erik who was lying on the massive bed. She approached him and her hand clamped over her mouth to stop her scream. Blood…blood was everywhere. Erik wore no shirt and long, ugly gashes slanted across the broad expanse of his chest. She turned to Erik.

"What happened to him?" she wondered.

"Philippe Francois is what happened to him. He was ambushed in the woods. He was foxed and so did not put up much of a fight," Rupert answered. Christine gasped in disbelief.

"What caused these wounds?" she asked, gesturing to his chest.

"A sword, I am sure they meant to torture him. They would have succeeded if my men and I had not gone to look for him," Rupert said. She did not have to ask what he wanted her to do.

"I will need hot water, towels, needle and thread," she said, pulling up the sleeves of her robe. Rupert nodded and went to get the items she requested. It was going to be a long night.

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Dawn…

Christine woke up with a start, not having intended to go to sleep. She had worked late into the night to stitch Erik's wounds before they became infected. She had fallen asleep in a chair when Rupert changed Erik's bedding and trousers.

Pulling her robe more tightly around her Christine sat down on the edge of his bed. Droplets of perspiration beaded his brow and upper lip and she knew he was going into a fever. She called a maid and had her bring cool water and cloth. After it arrived Christine bathed his face gently, being careful not to touch his mask. She was not brave enough to face his face just yet. She washed around the three long scratches with great care and knew without a doubt that they were going to scar.

God, did this man not already have enough scars, some deeper then others? She knew Erik would not want her pity and so buried the emotion.

"How is he?" Rupert asked hesitantly from the door.

"Please come in, he is getting a fever," she said. She saw worry cross Rupert's eyes before he masked it. He sat down in the chair Christine had vacated and studied Erik for a long time.

"I do not know what he was thinking getting foxed like that," he said softly. Christine felt guilty immediately, knowing it was her fault.

"I…it was my fault," she whispered. Rupert studied her curiously.

"What could you do to cause the legendary Black Wolf to want to turn to drink?" he wondered, amused.

"I took off his mask," she whispered. Rupert froze and his eyes grew round. She continued speaking before he could say anything.

"Please do not ask me to tell you what I saw," she whispered softly. Rupert shook his head immediately.

"Mademoiselle, I have been by this man's side for almost fifteen years and in all that time I have never asked about the mask or touched it; no one has until you came along," he said. Christine flushed and looked away.

"I…I did not want him to get hurt," she said, hoping that would make up for some of the things she had done.

"I know that, miss, you are a good woman, I can see that…I am sorry if my lord said anything or did anything to upset you," he said. Christine nodded, although it was not this mans place to apologize. There was silence for a few moments.

"Who is this Philippe Francois you mentioned earlier?" she asked. Rupert stiffened at the sound of the man's name.

"I only know what Erik tells me, but they have been enemies for many years," Rupert said.

"And he would do this to Erik?" she whispered.

"He would have done worse then that if he had been given the chance," he replied. Christine did not reply as she studied the unmasked side of Erik's face. He would have been such a handsome man if his face had not looked like that on one side…his body was amazingly built as well and though Christine could not believe she noticed she did.

"Will he be alright, mademoiselle?" Rupert asked into the silence.

"Only time will tell."

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Erik's body was in more pain then he had ever experienced. Everything hurt like hell and it hurt just to open his eyes. He felt a cold wetness on his forehead.

"Shh, you are going to be alright," a voice whispered reassuringly. Erik forced his eyes open and they focused on the lovely face of Christine Daaé. She was helping him? After what he had done to her? She smiled and took his hand in her own. He had to have died. She was touching him with such gentleness.

"Relax and when you are better I want you to play the piano for me," she said. Erik managed to nod before he slipped into unconsciousness.