Waiting is surprisingly a lot of work.

About an hour after I placed Erik in the bed, we noticed the sheets wet, for a different reason. Blushing bright red, Madame Giry and I quickly got him out of the bed. I got him to the chamber pot, and in the most modest way possible, helped his unconscious form relieve itself. Holding him still as the urine that was left leaked it's way out of his crippled form into the chamber pot, I lightly started to run my fingers through his hair, in an almost soothing manner. Knowing the male anatomy made this task no less embarrassing, and knowing that eventually I would have to admit what had happened to him made things even worse. Coming back into the room I saw Madame Giry had changed the sheets, and she told me that I had to change Erik into different clothes. Again, not the easiest thing to do modestly, but I did my best.

Not long after this, Madame Giry placed her hand on his forehead, and immediately went off. Returning with a bucket of ice water and some small wash cloths, she explained that Erik was feverish, and that we would need to try to cool him off. I never would have guessed that he was feverish, his body felt so cold to my touch. The blood loss had done nothing to his already pale complexion, and his skin was already stone cold before, or, so Christine had said.

Now, ten hours into his recovery, Erik has made his first sign of being functional, moaning and allowing a hand to slide higher up on his stomach.

Strangely, the small act brings a smile of satisfaction to my face, as I rewet one of the cloths and gently wipe some sweat off his brow. He flinches, again bringing a slight unconscious smile to my face. Even if it is flinching from my touch, he has made signs of waking up.

Seemingly reading my thoughts, Madame Giry speaks up, "He'll do this for a long time, his body drifting into a lighter sleep. Do not be fooled, he will not wake up for a very long time still."

My smile disappears and she notices, "Do not be discouraged, Monsieur. He will wake up. He has proven this by drifting almost into consciousness. It shows he is fighting."

MADAME GIRY POV

Fighting indeed. This is a battle where the odds, I am afraid, are against my child. Though Erik may not be my blood, he is still my child. I watch over him as a mother does, and I care for him as a mother should. He explained how his real mother hated him, and feared him. In learning this I made a silent vow to make up for the cruelties he faced, and to do my best to give him a better life.

This is not the better life I had in mind. This life is filled with solitude, fear, death, pain, and heartbreak. I never wanted this to be his life, I never meant to condemn this man to a Hell on this planet. This man, my child, deserves to live in the palaces of heaven to make up for the cruelties he has faced. I can not give him a palace, I can not give him riches like no other, but I can care, and I can love. I know that it is not much, but it must be worth something.

RAOUL POV

Fighting. That's what this is for him, though I never realized it until now. This is just a fight for him. A fight that I am going to help him win. I promised myself that I would help him, and that's what I intend to do. I can not do much, I know that I am just the spoiled brother of a rich Comte, but I am proud that I know that I can be here helping someone who needs it.

That's all I've ever really wanted too, I guess. I mean, the stress of my normal life is certainly not something that I am proud of. I hate it all, I hate having to live up to a title I never asked for, just so my brother can give me fake praise and pat me on the back. That's not what I really wanted from the start. I wanted freedom. So my brother signed me up for the Navy. I didn't want to go, I thought there would be even less freedom there. Strangely, there was more.

Out on the sea, I felt relaxed, almost at home. I loved being able to wake up in the morning to the slight churning of the boat on the waves, and even more, I loved the smell of the fresh sea air. Everything on the sea represented all that I longed for at home: freedom.

I turn back to Erik as he stirs a bit more and sighs. Staring at his face, I long to remove the mask that still covers half his face. I've seen the marred features before, and at first I will admit the sight deterred me, recoiling at the thought of him touching me. But then I started to accept that if even he wishes to rid himself of the troubling features, than I could look past them and see the true man beneath. This man taught me things without knowing it. He taught me to see past a man's face, and see into his feelings. That's why I want to help, because despite his scarred appearance, this man has a tortured soul. I know he won't let me help heal it, but I can always try.

Reaching out, I do remove the mask, and before Madame Giry can protest, I lightly run a cool wet cloth down the deformities of his face. Erik's hand, even in sleep, moves to cover his face. I lightly take his hand and set it back down on his stomach, continuing to mop the fine coating of sweat that has been building on his skin this entire time.

Finishing and setting the cloth back into the water, I look over to see Madame Giry staring at me.

"What?" my voice sounds defensive, childish.

She shakes her head, "Even I could never do such a thing to him."

"What?" again my voice sounds like a five year olds.

"Take off his mask," she gestures to his deformed face, "and touch his face."

"Madame," I sit up straight, regaining age in my voice, "you said you love him like a mother."

She nods, "I did. But I know Erik, and I know how foolish it is to remove his mask. He judges himself."

I look back to his prone form, "Well, maybe he shouldn't be so hard on himself."

She gives me a strange glance, but then returns to her work of cleaning Erik's right hand, seeing as how his movements caused him to start to bleed again.

I stand, taking the bucket of water, and go to get more. The past twelve hours, seeing as how it has been twelve hours now, have been hectic and the water nearly has disappeared.

Going into the makeshift kitchen, I see a few larger bowls, and I take one of them, filling both the bucket and the bowl with ice water. Returning to Madame Giry and Erik, I lightly take Erik's left wrist, un-bandage it, and rest it in the large bowl of water. Gently, taking a clean cloth, I start to wash his hand, still caked with dry blood. Moving around his hand in caressing circles, I watch as the water turns a deep red, and I left his hand out of a moment, making sure that only dry blood is coming off. Confirming this, I gently move his hand back to the water and continue to wash. Eventually cleaning his hand, I lift his limb out of the water and start to move the cloth around the wrist, careful not to touch the wound. All the same, he winces if I even draw close. Taking another cloth and wetting it in the clean bucket of water, I wrap it lightly around his entire wrist, receiving a hiss of pain.

Setting the wrist gently on the bed, with a towel underneath to keep the sheets dry, I leave to dump the water out and refill the bowl. Returning I repeat the same process with his left wrist. The second time was worse, he seemed to have cut deeper with his right slashing his left then his left slashing the right. It's probably because he slashed the left side first.

I go into the kitchen again, rinsing out the bowl when I feel a light hand on my shoulder. I turn to see Madame Giry. She stops the water, cleverly set up to run from the lake. I turn around completely from the sink and she smiles, handing me a towel. As I dry my hands I notice for the first time that my hands are shaking.

She smiles again, "Monsieur, get some rest. There is a chair in the room, which I fear may be the only place to sleep left."

I shake my head, "I'm fine."

"You're trembling," she comments, "and you haven't taken a break. Sleep for a little while, and then you can take your turn watching him."

I nod and stifle a yawn. Going back into the room, I move to the far corner to a comfortable looking chair. Sitting down, sleep takes me almost instantly.

a/n: please review