It's been ten days. Erik's drifted close to waking up a few times, only to fall away again. He was closest two days ago, actually responding to voices around him, and with this new revelation we replaced his mask, but then he fell back, away, into his deepest sleep yet. Which is where I find him now.
Turning around, I see Madame Giry asleep in the chair. Her shift ended about thrity minutes ago. We've been working in six-hour shifts, but sometimes when neither of us can sleep we work together. Today was that case earlier, but she started to crash right at the end, and I let her take my turn to sleep. I'm not tired.
Still keeping my eyes on anything but Erik, finding that hard to do now, the pain far too great, I hear a slight moan. Looking to Madame Giry and expecting it to be her, I see she is sleeping as peacefully as ever. Then there is a second moan and I turn to Erik.
He's tossed to his left side, the most he's moved since we put him here and I move to push him back when I see his eyes fluttering. He's waking up! I want to rush to wake up Madame Giry, but I don't want to leave his side.
One of his eyes opens and then closes with a wince.
"The light!" his voice is hoarse from not being used, so it wasn't enough to jolt Madame Giry awake.
Quickly I blow out the candles and he opens his eye again. Then the other opens too. I smile slightly and move closer.
"How are you?" I whisper.
He backs off when he hears my voice, "Go away!"
I back off two steps but I don't leave, "What's wrong?"
"Just," he scrambles back on his right arm to escape, causing him to cry out, "leave me!"
I don't move and I watch as Madame Giry, now up and alert, moves to Erik's side, "Hush, Erik."
He lets her wrap her arms around him and curls into her like a scared child, "He's going to kill me."
The words hurt, but I don't let him see this.
Madame Giry backs up and scolds him, "Erik, you stop this madness! The viscount has not left your side the last ten days. He has been helping me take care of you."
"Who says," he struggles in her grasp, but she holds him tightly, "that I need help?"
In his struggles he catches his wrist in a bunch of covers. Yanking his arm, he cries out in pain and I move to his side without thinking.
He gives me a strange, untrusting, look and Madame Giry smiles, "You see? He wants to help."
"I don't… need… help!" Erik screams, finally breaking free of her arms, "And I don't want any either!"
She gives him a sad look, "Erik, your wrists…"
"Yes," he agrees, "my wrists. I meant for those to kill me! I don't want pity anymore! I don't want life. But that's all I've gotten these past, how many did you say? Ten days? That's all I've gotten for the past ten days, I'm sure, pity." The last word is spat.
I decide to speak for the first time, "If it means anything at all, I didn't stay here to pity you, I stayed here to help. If that means nothing, then I'll leave."
Turning to retreat, I leave the room, and make it half way to the shore when I hear Madame Giry yell, "Erik, don't!"
I turn to see Erik in the doorway, legs shaking beneath him and face turning from pale to a slight green. He takes a step toward me and I turn to face him completely.
He gasps, "You stayed here… to help me… even after all I did to you?"
I nod, "Yes."
He takes another few steps, "That's… really… stupid… you know?"
"I do now," I turn from him and start to walk again.
His last words are barely a whisper, "Thank you."
I turn around and see his knees giving out and him grasping onto a table in a desperate attempt to stay standing. Instincts kicking in once more, I rush to his side and wrap an arm around his waist, holding him up. His face has gone bright green and I lower him to his knees just in time to get behind him as he doubles over, retching. I hold his body very still until he finishes, and I then lift him and see Madame Giry coming toward us with some cloths, a bucket and a mop.
She sets down the items and goes to pick up Erik's mask, which had been thrown off of his face from the violence of the heaves. She leaves us again, going to the kitchen to clean the mask off.
Erik lowers his head, "Sorry."
I gently hold him, almost like a parent would a child, "Don't be, Erik, don't be."
He turns with a sudden violence, the left side of his face the only side showing, and I know he doesn't trust me yet, "Who told you my name?"
Madame Giry comes in from behind us, "That would have been me."
He glares at her as she takes a cloth and wipes the vomit off of his mouth, and then roughly replaces his mask, "Why? I didn't tell you to let him know! It's not his business!"
She stands defensively, "Erik, this man has been watching over you for the past ten days. If you can not give him the courtesy of allowing him to use your proper name, then you don't deserve anything that he has done for you, and yet, he has done it anyway!"
Erik lowers his head again, knowing that this is the truth.
He then turns to me, "My apologies, viscount."
I shake my head, "You are already forgiven. I don't expect you to trust me, and I don't ask for your trust. I only wish to help."
He asks the question I knew would come: "Why?"
"Because, when I first met you, I judged you. I judged you because of your face," he lowers his head in a 'you and all the others' way, but I continue, "but then, after that night, after you nearly killed me, you showed me something beyond that face, and under the madness that I had only expected from you. That night, you showed me that you would give your love up to me, you loved her, but you would not force her to stay with you. I saw you for a moment, I saw the man in you, and not the Phantom. Monsieur, Erik, that man is worth helping, and I knew it then. I told Christine off for hurting you and I both, and then I returned, and when I did, there was no Phantom, there was a man. You may not be a man that is held in high regards, Erik, but you are a man worth saving… you have a beautiful soul, and I would really find it a shame if it went to waste on loving someone like Christine."
Oh please tell me I didn't just say that.
From the look he gives me, I did.
Why would I say something so intimate to a man that hates me? Oh please tell me this didn't just happen.
He, thankfully, can not respond, for as he moves to speak, a strike of pain hits him, he cries out. I try to get him to relax, but as hold him, his body goes limp, and I realize he has passed out.
I hold his body to me, again not thinking, and when I look to Madame Giry she attacks, "What are your intentions, Monsieur?"
"I mean no harm if that's what you mean," I look back down to him, "I couldn't hurt him."
She grins, "Well, yes, you've proved that. Monsieur, could I safely say your eye has been caught by another?"
I think, "I don't know." The answer sounds almost sad.
She smiles, "Well, I think that I can safely say that Erik is in good hands."
I watch as she turns to leave along the path and I call out, "Wait! What do you mean? Where are you going?"
She turns to me, "Monsieur, you sent a note to tell your brother that you would be out, me, I have said nothing. I went missing for ten days. I'm sure that Meg has handled things, but I must end the suspicion, I will return later."
"But," I stutter out, "Madame-"
"You'll do fine," she comments before turning and disappearing down the path.
Nodding, and knowing no one can see that I have, I carefully lift Erik in my arms and move him back to the bed. The fool, the complete fool! He chased me, but why? I understand guilt, but he wouldn't admit to guilt, would he? Do I know my Phantom as well as I think I do?
Well, it's pointless to question these things now, there will be no answer.
Pulling the covers up once more, I then leave to take care of the mess that we have left out in the main room. Mopping up the remnants of something that Erik, surprisingly, still held in stomach, I wash off and then sigh, looking out toward the lake.
It's really something. This home that he has built for himself. Not many people hold a talent as great as he does. And this is not his only talent. That play that he wrote, that Don Juan Triumphant, was truly amazing. I walk around and see all the artwork lying around. One painting catches my attention, though I don't know why it would. It's actually all a series of the same thing, all in different impressions. It seems to be a garden of some sort. It is a beautiful garden too, with flowers lining the entirety, except for one lone tree, surrounded by bushes, which seem to be rose bushes. I long to touch the beautiful pieces of art, but fear ruining the beautiful picture, so I settle for staring, just staring, and imagining that it's real, and that this home is that garden. In doing so, I find myself lost in thought for hours.
a/n: please review, all feedback welcome!