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Erik blamed my last walk.

Deep inside, I blamed it too, but I was much too stubborn to admit that I had been wrong about the temperature. I had protested that I hadn't needed a sweater, and Erik had told me I would, and I had walked off without one. When I hit the chilly air, I knew the smart choice would to be go back down and get a sweater, where Erik would be undoubtedly waiting by the door with it, but that would be admitting that he was right, and I did not want to do that.

As a weekly ritual, I often went up at dusk to do some shopping and walk around. Erik usually accompanied me, although he now trusted me enough to allow me to stroll along by myself. And the few times I walked alone, I found myself craving Erik's presence beside me.

So we usually went together.

I ended up staying out for over an hour, much longer than I normally would have, just to spite myself. When I went home, my nose was bright red, my breathing was raspy, and I sniffled.

Erik was furious. He made me get straight into my nightgown and put all of the quilts he had in his house over me.

"Foolish girl!" he had said. "Now you will catch cold."

I remember the drink he had given me when I had hurt my ankle, the one that had worked like magic. I told him that he surely had something to help me now. He had shaken his head.

The next morning, I wake up miserable.

My head hurts, I feel warm, and I am agitated. I roll from one side to another as I cough and breathe in.

Erik is over me in moments, touching my forehead. "Christine, Christine," he says worriedly. "Why did you not listen to your Erik?"

"I am sorry," I try to say, but I have discovered the horror: my voice is gone.

I expect him to yell at me for destroying his precious gift in me, but all he does is stare at me, his eyes growing more and more concerned.

Every sound beats against my head like a hammer; even little light from the candles must be extinguished to keep me happy. When I breathe in, there is a funny sound in my chest, like a wheezing. I sneeze in a very un-ladylike fashion and bring my handkerchief to my mouth as I cough.

How many hours have gone by? My hot skin has suddenly turned very cold, and Erik sits by me patiently as I shiver and shake under his blankets. He rubs both of my hands in his cold ones, trying to warm me with the friction.

"You have a fever, Christine." he says. "That is all."

I do not miss the shakiness to his voice. Each of his movements are cautious and careful as he handles me.

He makes me drink water, and I turn my head. Drinking makes me choke, and I am afraid to harm my voice. When I explain to him in a raspy whisper why I will not take it, I expect him to be pleased that I am still caring for my voice so tenderly. He takes my shoulder and lifts me out of the bed, and shakes me.

"I do not give a damn about your voice if you die!"

If I die?

My eyes widen in horror, and I cough.

Erik climbs on the bed and cradles me, pushing my curls out of my face. He scared me so much and I bury my face into him, desperately trying not to cry, which will only bring more congestion.

Am I going to die?

All I have is a slight fever. Why would Erik assume it is fatal?

Nonsense. Erik would never let you die.

I have a fever that is the result of a walk I took last night. I can recover from this. Why does Erik look so frightened?

My head feels light as Erik puts cool cloth on my skin. It is almost completely dark in my room, and all I can see is Erik's glowing eyes. Is he angry? Is he scared?

If Erik is scared, then by God, I should be too!

Yesterday I had been fine! I had felt healthy and sure of myself. I had felt energized and happy, and I had gone for a walk.

I stay mostly in a world of dismayed dreams, where I am not awake, yet not asleep. It is in this trance, that I feel someone entering my room.

There are two voices now, but I don't understand…

"Pneumonia has given her a fever. She is so flushed, I—I do not know what to do—"

"The fever will go down, Erik."

"You don't understand… She is so hot… I have never felt anyone this hot…"

"She will live."

"I gave her a potion while she was sleeping. That should have cured it, and it did not. I have nothing else to use. I cannot take it… I cannot stand to watch her suffer."

"Did it start with a cold?"

"Only the day before. She had gone out for a walk, and I knew it was cold. Why didn't I go after her? I did not know she would stay out for so long…. Why didn't I go after her? I could have stopped this!"

"Why must you always blame yourself? Have you done everything you know of?"

"Yes, everything. But she is so hot, Daroga, and Erik doesn't know what to do anymore…"

They sound far away, as if they are in a tunnel. I feel a warm hand on my cheek and a cold cloth on my forehead as someone calls my name.

"Christine?"

I open my eyes, and Erik hold something in a vial. He puts his arm behind my back and lifts me into a sitting position. "Erik…?" I say. I feel light-headed again, but I force my voice to speak anyway. "Was your friend here?"

He looks at me. "We woke you? He was here some time ago… maybe an hour. No talking, little love, I need you to drink this."

I whisper, "What's wrong with me?"

"Sweetheart, nothing is wrong with Erik's Christine! She needs to rest and stop worrying. Now, are you going to drink this?"

I have a funny taste in my mouth. "Erik, I think I'm going to be sick."

"That's good. It will get the bad things out of your body."

I press my hand to my mouth and he pulls apart my fingers and pours the liquid down my throat. "You just need to rest. Are you comfortable? Are you hungry?"

Erik cares for me so, and I cannot accept any of it. I want to roll over and fall asleep.

I must have, because the next second, I sit up and retch.

Erik comes into the room and hold my hand as I moan. He has already picked me up and lies me on the chair as he gets me a new nightgown and pulls back the sheets. He hums consistently as he does this, and I hiccup in shame.

"I am sorry, I am sorry," I repeat over Erik's gentle purring. "You must be disgusted by me!"

And I honestly believe that he would be. I have never seen Erik looking anything less than immaculate in his hygiene and clothes, and the thought of his perfect, little angel throwing up was probably something he had hoped never to see.

I think he laughs as he lifts me back and lies me down. "Silly darling. Erik loves you, and he will always take care of you." And he kisses me on my horrible lips as he washes off my face.

That is true love.

He puts me against the pillows and feels my skin again. He looks down at my face in great concern, pushing his fingers up and down my arm. "I am going to bring your fever down, and that is a promise."

I shift, ignoring the pain in my head. "I feel ill…" I tell him pathetically.

"This is Erik's fault." he whispered. "You should never be in pain. If you are in pain, then it must be because of me!"

I haven't the strength to tell him he is being ridiculous. My face is already flushed from doing something as simple as sitting up, and my hands are shaking.

I expect him to leave again, but he stays lying down next to me, and I curl up to him, shivering again. He keeps his hands on my forehead until I fall asleep.

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