Over a week passed before Erik finally woke up.
He had returned to inner consciousness slowly, digging his way out from under the heavy weight of drugs and his own throbbing pain. He knew that Christine was close, he could sense her somewhere just beyond his reach. He only knew that he had to find her, to see that she was safe and to protect her from whatever was coming next.
I heard her, I felt her…she is here…
Erik's mind raged with effort. More that anything, he wanted to open his eyes and find out where he was. It felt to him that his body was dead, that he was trapped within himself. He had no concept of time or anything outside of his own wandering thoughts. He didn't know where he was or how long he had been there; he only knew that he had to find Christine.
The true sense of helplessness only enraged him further, and he fought against the crushing, numbing gray until he was exhausted and very frightened that he might be trapped there, struggling, imprisoned inside his own body for the rest of his life.
Christine…I'm sorry...
The day Erik awoke had been different from all the rest before it. After a fitful inner sleep, he awoke within himself and immediately sensed a change. The smothering gray fog that he had fought against for so long had seemed thinner, weaker, and infinitely more vulnerable.
He didn't know what to make of it, only that now was the time to strike.
Erik tore through the shroud and felt his heart sing with relief that he could feel his limbs once again. He spread and curled his toes; he furrowed his brow and tightened his fists. Erik fought a strong wave of dizziness when he turned his head slightly to the side; he opened his eyes, ignoring the pain of the brightness overhead.
He blinked and took in his surroundings, forcing his eyes to take in the light; he was in a hospital, Erik didn't need his eyes to know that. It had been years since he'd last lain in a room, so similar to this one, but Erik recognized the beeping machines, the distant sounds of the nurse intercom in the hallway, and the scent of antiseptics.
He glanced down to see a tube in his left forearm and another in the back of his hand.
Erik shuddered.
He hated hospitals. Why am I here?
Erik tried to move but he let out a groan at the sudden stab of pain in his chest.
"Erik? Oh, thank God!"
He turned to his right to see Christine suddenly by his side. He felt confused for a moment, where had she come from?
His face was blank as his eyes assessed her- she looked unharmed, in fact he'd never seen her look so lovely. Then again, he'd never seen her look so relieved and happy to see him.
Erik gave her a weak smile as she neared his bed. Christine took his hand into both of hers and held it there, warming him. She brought a chair close to his bed to sit beside him and brought his hand to her lips. Her eyes were wet. "I'm so glad to see you." She said quietly, reaching to stroke her fingers through his hair.
Why did her voice catch just then? Had she thought I would leave her?
His mind was swimming slightly, the dizziness was returning, and he still couldn't understand why he was in the hospital. Erik focused on her, and lifted his hand to cup her face. She looked so beautiful- the worry from before was burned from her eyes, replaced with a sense of strength that he had never seen before. The slight circles beneath her eyes had vanished; Christine seemed to radiant warmth.
How had he never seen this side of her before?
Erik tried to speak, but his throat felt far too tight. Christine seemed to understand, and she brought a cup of ice chips to his lips. "Christine," he rasped. "What happened…?"
Christine took the cup back from him, setting it on a nearby tray, and she adjusted his bed so that he could sit up. The movement hurt his chest, but Erik stifled the groan in his throat. He hated that he was in the hospital; he didn't want Christine to see him as weak on top of that.
The girl took a deep breath and slowly began to recount what had happened that day.
Her story was swift, starting with a simple phone call from her dancer friend, Tawny, who had informed Christine that there had been several requests for her from a young blonde man. Tawny hadn't known his name, and so Christine had assumed that Raoul had gone to the club in search of her.
Why he wouldn't have dialed her cellular first had not occurred to her, and so against her better judgment, Christine had gone to the club to see him. She had not intended to stay there; she had thought to walk in, find Raoul, and from there they could decide how best to spend the day together- Erik had insisted that she avoid the club, and Christine loved catching up with her old friend.
However, upon arriving at the club, Christine had found that it hadn't been Raoul who'd been asking after her, but his older brother Philippe.
Philippe, who had been as good a friend to her in Miami as Raoul; he'd acted as the older brother she'd never had, often teasing and pulling pranks, but never unkind, never cruel.
There had been a great confusion as the three of them, Christine, Philippe and Tawny had been at the bar, arguing over who had said what, and how their wires appeared to have become crossed.
Philippe hadn't wanted her there for a dance; he'd been on the same bent as Raoul, ready to shake the truth from her to find out why she had become an exotic dancer, and what he could do to help.
Tawny had been apologetic- she'd confused Philippe with Raoul, and Christine had been ready to laugh the whole thing off as a simple misunderstanding. She'd dearly missed her 'big brother', and had been ready to suggest that the two of them go to lunch when, inevitably it seemed, they had been interrupted.
May had caught sight of Christine and grabbed her arm, pulling her away from her friends. Philippe had tried to stop her, but bouncers had moved in to stop him, forcefully escorting him out of the club when he'd resisted them.
May screeched at her, "What the fuck kind of trick are you trying to pull, having Erik call in for you, saying you're sick and then showing up here a couple hours later?! You think just because you're fuckin' around with him that I'll let you get away with this bullshit? Stupid trick! You're just in time, a friend of mine was askin' for you anyway, said he saw you the other night and you're just to his liking too. Get your ass in there!"
Christine had tried to struggle against her, but May had been surprisingly strong, and had managed to practically drag Christine from the bar over to the VIP lounge, shoving her into the large room. Her eyes had gone wide as she'd recognized the men from the day before; again they were dressed in sleek suits, looking every inch the high-end client.
May had hauled Christine through the room and only released her once they were near an older, handsome man. He'd smiled when he'd seen Christine, nodding his approval…
Erik had listened intently, understanding her reasons for going to the club. It had been a misunderstanding; she'd thought to find Raoul but instead had found Philippe, and May had forced her into the VIP lounge where Erik had seen her.
Still, that doesn't explain what I saw…
Erik cupped her face again. "Christine, I'm so thankful that you weren't hurt, but…when I saw you, you weren't…I mean, had you danced for him?" He asked. Erik had recalled seeing her clad in next to nothing, naked but for a bit of lace, being held as a human shield by that cowardly bastard, Salvador.
Christine looked away, briefly. She took a deep breath. She had hoped that Erik would have forgotten, but it seemed he remembered enough of that night. "No, I didn't dance for him."
Erik's hand tightened over hers slightly, when he spoke his voice was tight with blooming fury. "He didn't-"
"No. It didn't get that far." She said, clearly wishing to bring the focus back to him. That hell was over, done with. It was Erik who had sacrificed himself to protect her, and Christine had decided days ago that what had happened to her was no longer of any importance. "None of that matters now. Erik, do you remember anything else? You…you were shot, several times. The nurses told me that most of them were just flesh wounds. You'll have scars, but after a while you'll be fine. There was one…"
Erik watched as Christine suddenly dissolved into tears beside him. He longed to reach forward and bring her into his arms, but he found that he could barely move at all for the pain blossoming from his heart.
The picture was beginning to come clear.
"I was shot in the chest, wasn't I?" Erik asked. The words seemed unnecessary. He carefully probed himself until he felt a soft patch over the left of his chest. He lifted the loose collar of his gown to find a soft gauze bandage taped over his heart. For the first time in a very long while, Erik felt a cold fear chill his bones as a singular, stark reality dawned on him.
I might have died!
The very thought seemed impossible to him, even as he realized the truth. He'd been shot, had very nearly died. One moment fighting for Christine, dead the next. He'd never had to come to terms with his own mortality before- that he was not invincible came as a shock. This new vulnerability was disturbing.
Christine looked up at him; her eyes were bright with tears, yet still strong. "Yes. You were, but they told me that you would be fine. It's only been a week, but-"
"A week?! I've been here for a week?"
Christine nodded, "It's actually been about ten days. You lost a lot of blood, Erik, but they said that you would be fine," she said shakily.
Erik felt bewildered- ten days he had been caught beneath the crushing shroud of gray, ten days of nothing but oblivion! He glanced to her again, hating what he saw in her eyes.
You're weak, they seemed to say. Erik despised any sort of pity, especially when it came from women. For so long he had been determined to keep his body fit and strong, and it seemed his efforts had been for nothing.
He was still human, damn it all, and ashamed of it.
Erik swallowed, wincing slightly at his raw throat. "I'll be fine," he said tightly, struggling to sit upright on his own. "I'd like to speak with my doctor."
Christine nodded quickly, "Of course, Erik. I'll find him for you,"
He watched her dart from the room, his beautiful golden dancer.
Thank God it was me and not you, Christine.
Erik had made a few simple requests of Christine, and after all he had been through she would have happily gone to the moon for him. Instead, after speaking with his doctor, he'd only asked that she go to his loft and fetch a few things for him: shoes, a few changes of clothes, his favorite wristwatch, his laptop computer and a mask. He refused to allow any of his friends in to see him until his face was covered- his scars were no secret among them, but he was desperate to hold onto what dignity he still possessed and would be damned if anyone else saw him confined to bed with his scars on full, bright display.
Erik had been noticably distant after speaking privately with his doctor, and Christine could understand. It must have been horrible for him; the pain, the fear, the drugs, the stark realities of his injury. Erik had never experienced such danger before, it must have been jarring for him to have learned just how close he'd come to meeting his end.
Once Christine had first seen Erik laying in his hospital room, she'd felt such impossible love for him; now that he was recovering she wondered how she had ever survived without him. She knew her adoration would make her a slave to him, and Christine would happily wear the chains if only for the chance to prove her love to him.
I am yours, Erik, now and forever- I will be at your side for as long as you want me...I love you, I love you...
While Erik had been unconscious, lulled to sleep by a cocktail of morphine and several other strong painkillers, Christine had been busy preparing for his return to the loft. She was filled with a new joy, and had done everything she could think of to make the loft perfect for him. Just the thought of him coming home, where she could care for him, made her giddy with excitement.
Bringing him a change of clothes was no trouble, in fact she wished he'd ask for more.
Christine brought him everything he'd asked, but had frowned as he'd opened the laptop and immediately began typing and clicking away, as if nothing had happened to concern him.
"Erik, why are you working now? You should be resting,"
He slanted a grin at her, "Oh, and let Maron and the rest of those boys handle all my contracts? I was shot in the chest, Christine, not the head."
She hadn't thought his joke was very funny.
Days passed, and Erik only grew more aggravated.
Erik had been told by both nurses and doctors that he'd be hospitalized for a few more weeks, building back his strength. He would have to eat the food the staff served him, get up to stand with the help of an aide and walk for fifteen minutes, four times a day. Physical therapy was also recommened before he would be released into Christine's care, where suggestions of a temporary live-in nurse were mentioned.
True to form, Erik had ignored the orders of everyone- the nurses, his doctor, his friends and his thoracic surgeon. He'd challenged them at every turn; standing on his own, walking for twenty minutes every hour, then forty, always while dressed in his own clothes rather than the drafty paper gown provided to him. He insisted that he felt fine, and could manage perfectly well on his own.
Erik disregarded any mention of his chest wound, as if it had been as minor as the others, and took every opportunity to show the doctors charged with his care that he was recovering at a phenomenal rate.
"I'd think you might want to take it easier, Erik," Derek had told him when he'd been allowed in for a visit.
"And why would I want to do that?" Erik had challenged back. "I've been asleep for over a week, and I can't stand it in here. I'm making up for lost time- I'll crawl out of here on my belly if I have to!"
Derek had laughed, "I should have known you'd give the doctors hell for treating you as if you were one of us mere humans. And what's this talk of belly-crawling? You shouldn't even be standing and Claudette told me a nurse had to drag you back to your room after she found you on the roof. You weren't going to jump, were you?"
Erik rolled his eyes. "Of course not- you think I lived through a shootout just to commit suicide? I just wanted some fresh after and sun."
"That's what they all say," Derek had teased.
Erik was not amused, he only wanted to get back to work, and from there he only asked Derek about the results of their latest lab experiment. As he'd predicted, the results had been promising.
Time passed slowly in the hospital, with one day blurring into another. Even with his laptop and Christine's devoted company, Erik was bored and restless, angry to be confined to his room. He wanted out of the damned hospital; he wanted to go to Central Park with the dogs, he wanted to take Christine dancing again and he wanted to get back to work.
He had a life outside of the four white walls that made up his room, a life that he now knew with certainty could be taken away at any time.
Damned if I'm not going to live it!
Christine was proud that Erik was recovering so well, but his attitude had her worried. It didn't take a genius to see that a man like Erik, who had been self-reliant for so long, despised this new weakness in himself and the fact that so many people were reminding him of how he had to take it easy and not "overstrain himself" by walking too far or standing for too long. She wondered if he wasn't putting himself even more at risk with his need to prove that he had the strength to leave the hospital.
Erik was far too determined and far too stubborn for his own good. Every night, when Christine had to go back to the loft once visiting hours were over, Erik didn't waste any time idling in bed. He stretched his muscles, conducted business online and argued with his doctors.Simply, Erik had had more than enough time in the hospital- he'd be joyous if he never set foot in the building again.
No patient that had put up as much of a fight as he had could possibly need more care, he had said, and finally, the doctor had given in to Erik's demand. Feeling smugly triumphant, Erik had checked himself out of the hospital, practially whistling as he stepped out the front doors to greet the frigid night air.
He didn't want Christine to have to come back for him, it was freezing and for all he knew she might already be in bed; he thought it might be nice to surprise her at the loft. Smiling slightly, Erik also thought it would be nice to buy her a bouquet of flowers on his way back home.
It's the least I can do for you, Christine, my angel...