Author's Note:
Dear Readers,
Ah, Chapter 18 has arrived. I cannot tell you when the next one will come out. I leave for college in a little over a week. I will do my best but this is crazy time. Don't worry though! I will not abandon this story! I may simply be delayed.
Sarahandmarquis
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Disclaimer: Don't own Phantom. Just own this plot and my own characters, however bad they may be.
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Reviews:
peanutpup: Thank you!
ArtemisBare: It shall be heartbreaking I assure you! I plan to make each and every one of you cry. (And probably myself as well.) Thank you very much for your best wishes! They are appreciated!
PhantomFemme du Pantages: I'm always glad when a character handles Erik's face in a realistic and not annoying way. Sure, it's a shock but any reasonable human being can get over it. I hope you like this chapter!
E.M.K.81: That's what I was going for. I didn't want just every other unmasking scene that every fanfiction has. And, yes, when he finds out…well, you'll just have to wait and read.
Child of Dreams: Yep.
Whatanidea15: Thank you! I wanted to handle this in a different way and make it interesting.
Lunacat: The cruise was great! I really liked seeing Mexico. We shall see what Erik has to say about Christine…
frnknfrtr: I usually don't reply to reviews that aren't on the previous chapter but I loved your comments so much I just wanted to say thank you for reviewing! I would talk about them all but that might end up longer than the chapter so…just thank you! I hope you keep reading and enjoying the book!
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Word Count: 2208
"Was" Count: 3
"Were" Count: 1
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CHAPTER 18
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The digital clock glared red at her from the nightstand, taunting her with time that seemed to drag slower, taking forever to change from 2:59 to 3:00 am. Dalir had already succumbed to the pull of sleep, sitting hunched over in his chair. A tiny line of drool escaped his half-open mouth. His empty coffee cup hung precariously from the tips of his right-hand fingers, rocking closer to the falling with every shift in his position. Christine glanced at her own full cup of brown sludge and wrinkled her nose.
Sleep tempted her but too much weighed her mind down, keeping it from drifting away into the problem-less world of dreams. Namely, what was she to do when he woke?
I've made up my mind. He will have to leave it behind. I won't watch him waste away in the clutches of that vile drug. But, will he leave it? Will he do what is necessary to rid himself of it? She looked down at the gray hand that rested in hers. Purple vessels bulged the skin, carrying the drug-infused blood to the tips of his fingers and back to his heart.
Following the vein, her eyes ran over his arms, like they had a hundred times during the night. Her heart spasmed again as she imagined him, coming out of the morphine haze, groping for another needle and piercing his skin with the cold metal. She had a mild fear of needles, disliking the feeling of the needle resting in her skin. The days when she had sold her plasma to make ends meet were still nightmarish in her memories.
She tore her eyes away from the bruising and onto the masked face. This mask covered everything in a ghoulish visage, more macabre than reality. She couldn't explain why the scowling eye sockets and downturned mouth, all frozen in hard plastic tormented her so much. It reminded her eerily of the ancient masks worn by actors of the Greek period, the hell-like features that covered their real expressions.
Why did a mask upset her more than the face beneath it?
He is very ugly. I couldn't lie about that. But, has it grown on me? Have I secretly wanted to see his face for so long that now, no matter what it looks like, I still want to see it?
Her mind tried to imagine emotion written on the skeleton canvas. How would the skin around his eyes wrinkle if he smiled? How would a blush stain his gray cheeks? How would his golden eyes look no longer hidden by the mask's empty eye sockets? What expressions could he show without the covering of cloth or plastic?
Her fingers twitched to take off the mask, but she resisted. He wouldn't want even Dalir to accidentally see. I don't know if he'll even forgive me for seeing.
Lightly stroking his bony fingers, her thoughts landed on the chapped, broken lips that barely sealed his mouth from the outside world. How would those feel against mine? A shock ran through her as that thought assaulted her brain. A heavy blush spread over her cheeks, and she thanked all sacred that both Dalir and Erik slept on while she struggled with her embarrassment.
As the night wore on and the sun slowly peeked over the horizon, she asked herself the hard questions and searched her mind for answers.
Can I walk through this trial with him?
Can I be the helpmeet he needs?
A burst of rain pattered on the roof as a bolt of lightning shot across the sky outside the window. A crash of thunder soon followed. Erik twitched, subconsciously responding to the sounds of the sudden storm starting to rage outside. Lightly, she stroked his hand, humming a single, calming note. As he lay there in fitful slumber, her thoughts drifted another direction.
Could I wake up to that face every morning for the rest of my life?
Could I choose to love him every day?
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The storm still rattled on through the night and well into the next morning. Dalir roused himself around five o'clock and made more coffee, offering some of the fresh brew to the sleep-deprived girl sitting watchful by Erik's bed.
She briefly shook her head, merely asking for a cup of water because her throat was parched.
Without a word, he followed her directions before informing her in hushed tones for fear of waking the fitfully sleeping man in the bed, that he would be looking around the house. Christine simply nodded, barely hearing his words. He watched exhaustion try to pull her into sleep, but she resisted, giving Erik's sweaty had a compulsive squeeze.
Worried for her health but aware that she'd never consider sleeping, Dalir withdrew from the bedroom and walked down the hallway to Erik's office. Carefully opening it, he entered and began a detailed, detective-like search of the office contents.
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The digital clock had long passed eight in the morning before Erik began to stir. He shifted in bed, his arm coming to rest over his face. As his arm hit the mask, he shot up in bed, his chest heaving from pure panic. Christine jerked wide-awake, gripping his hand firmly.
"Erik!" she exclaimed as he cast his wide eyes about. "Erik, it's okay. I'm here." He gasped for breath and fell back onto the bed. "Just breathe. You're okay."
"C-Christine?" he stammered, his golden eyes landing on her. "Christine, what are you doing here? Why are you here? How did you get in?"
"I was so scared for you!" she exclaimed, bowing her head against the mattress next to his still-shirtless chest. "I was so scared. You hadn't contacted me for so long and Dalir said you hadn't left on a trip. I had to make sure you were well." Lifting her head, she wiped away the few tears of relief that had escaped from her eyes. Erik gave a half-hearted laugh, seemingly ignorant to his half-dressed state.
"And now you know." He turned his face away from her, unable to face her with the shame burning inside him. He found he didn't have the heart to take his hand out of hers. She would be leaving soon enough anyway after all. What could be wrong with him enjoying the feeling of her hand for those last few moments? She'll be leaving soon. She knows all about your sickening addiction. She's a smart girl; she'll leave.
"Yes, I do. I know you lied to me at least twice now. Once, by omission and once, by commission." Her hand shook in his, a physical reaction of her inner struggle to contain her frustration. "I know that I've been a fool for not seeing it earlier or even thinking you might be addicted to any number of drugs." He felt the soft slide of her skin against his as her other hand encased his bony fingers in warmth. "And, I know that this is going to be a long, hard road to walk. But we'll walk it together."
He shook his head and glanced back her, admiring the intentions of her words but aware, in a way she never could be, of the foolishness of them. Foggy as his mind was from sleep, he knew she couldn't save him. Such a brave and kind girl. She thinks she can save the monster. Such a sweet girl.
"You needn't walk through that road, Christine. I am not worth it." When she opened her mouth to answer, he quietly hushed her. "I've spent twenty-five years addicted to morphine. There is nothing left of me. I'm hollow. You would be wise to go find another to bestow your generous attentions. Leave this dilapidated freak to live the rest of his existence." I won't fault you.
"Friends don't leave when things get rough, Erik." Christine responded, peering down at his bruised arms.
"Are we friends? I bought your companionship. You sold your time to entertain a sad old fool who craved the presence of another human being."
"Just because we started out odd doesn't mean our friendship isn't as real or meaningful. I consider you my best friend. I'm sorry…I thought you did too." She hung her head, feeling embarrassment creeping up her neck. A few tears of disappointment gathered in the corners of her eyes. Maybe I just fooled myself into thinking he cared so much.
"No, Christine…no." As weak as he felt, he reached out to wipe away one of the tears that had escaped and trailed down her porcelain cheek. His fingers shook faintly but, before his hand reached her, he saw his arm. Or, more like the lack of clothing on his arm. Panic stabbed his concave stomach as he broke his eyes away from her and to his decidedly unclothed chest. In a blind panic, he grabbed for the blanket folded underneath his feet to cover his body. As soon as the blanket covered his gaunt chest, he clutched at his cheeks and breathed a deep sigh of relief to find the mask still in place. She didn't see my face. I would rather her see me completely naked then see my face.
"Christine, where is my shirt?" His tight tone drew Christine out of her misery.
"I don't know. You didn't have it when I found you. I didn't want to wake you by trying to dress you. Shall I go find you a shirt?" He nodded, keeping his entire body hidden under the scratchy blanket. It irritated his skin but he didn't care at the moment. Anything to keep her from seeing me anymore than she has.
Beauty gave him a little smile through the tears hovering in her eyes. His heart spasmed but she left before he could say anything. Look what you did. You made her cry. Feeling horribly guilty, he waited until she returned with one of his white shirts draped over one arm.
"Here," she said, turning her back to allow him to dress. "Are you hungry? I can go make something in the kitchen?" He pulled himself up the bed into a sitting position, bracing himself against the wave of nausea that hit him. His fingers shook as he buttoned the shirt and sank back onto the pillows. After swallowing, he spoke,
"No, I better not eat." He closed his eyes as the thought of food made his stomach roll again. Christine stood silent at the side of the bed before taking her seat. They remained silent, both deep in thought. Finally, Christine broke the silence,
"You have to quit." she whispered simply, her soft blue eyes falling on his shaking form.
"I know."
"I'll take you to the hospital." As she rose to get Dalir, his hand lashed out and grabbed her wrist in a surprisingly strong grip.
"No! Christine, you can't! No, please, anything but that!" Confused, she looked back at him and saw terror written in his golden eyes. "Please." She heard the faintest of whimpers in his pleading tone.
"Erik, you can't go through withdrawal and detox without medical attention. You could…" She refused to say the word that her brain supplied. "Things could happen. I won't lose you!"
"Christine, I can't go to the hospital. I can do this alone. It will be hell, but I can do this alone." He closed his eyes and loosened his grip on her wrist. She stood still, another set of tears gathering in her eyes, the result of exhaustion and overwhelming emotions.
"I just want you to be better. I just…I don't want you to suffer while you're getting better." She sniffed and sat on the edge of the bed, trying but failing to stop the tears.
"There is no stopping that. Morphine withdrawal and detox is almost unbearably miserable. Since it means so much to you, I'll go through it. But, I ask that I be allowed to do it on my own. At least this try. If I fail…then…" he took a deep breath. "We'll go to the hospital."
"I will call 911 if anything happens that might risk your life. I will." Christine promised, fixing him with her stubborn gaze. "Believe me."
"I accept that, Christine." Her shoulders drooped, and she sighed, wiping away the last of her tears. Her eyelids closed for a moment before snapping open as she attempted to stay awake. "You need to sleep. There is nothing to be done for Erik right now."
She nodded and pushed at his side. Confused, he scooted away. She pushed again, and he repeated his action. Giving him a sleepy smile, she laid down beside him, curling against his side, her hair spilling over his chest, neck, and right arm as she laid her head on his sternum. He blinked once or twice as she shifted around, curling her legs close to her body. One arm tucked under her head and her other laid across his sunken stomach. Her fingers teased his shirt as they twisted into the cloth. She sighed peacefully and fell asleep, leaving the masked man gasping for breath.
You are an angel, Christine. A beautiful, thoughtful angel.
As she slept, he cried for no reason in particular.