"I have often thought I would have been quite happy as a spider."

He was floating on a magic carpet, and behind him, the goats steadily chewed at the edges of his vehicle. He was in darkness, and in light, then darkness again. There was no pain, and yet he could feel himself drawing nearer to the source of some secret agony that frightened him and made him cry out. The sounds outside of his head were annoyingly loud, but try as he might, Erik could not open his eyes, nor could he make out the words.

Voices...men...they were standing over him, watching. They were shouting, but said nothing.

Then there was silence, and such a long silence that it too frightened him.

Had he died? Surely not, because he heard the voice of an angel singing...and Erik knew that he'd never make it through the gates of heaven. Perhaps it was a siren, drawing him deeper into hell. He tried again to force his eyes open, but could not, and struggling suddenly against some invisible weight that bound his arms to the bed, he felt a pain slice through his hand.

"You'll rip your IV out again," a pleasant voice said, sounding somewhat cross. "If you don't start behaving, Erik, they will give you more drugs."

"Mmmph," he said, but could not speak. Something covered his mouth and dug into his face at the same time. Erik tried again to lift his arms, but couldn't.

"Calm down," the voice whispered. "You're safe. Don't make them come in here like they did last time."

Suddenly he remembered them holding him to the bed and trying to take the mask...she had been there...and she was here now. But hadn't she gone away? A nurse had stuck a needle in his arm, and he'd recalled nothing after watching her walk out the door.

"The doctor says you're going to live," Christine continued speaking. "My father went down to the courthouse to post bail, and we're going to take you to live with us until the trial is over."

Erik finally opened his eyes, forcing his blurred vision to at last focus on the blond angel that stood beside his bed. He opened his mouth to speak again, but there was something inside of it. He could see the mask and feel it there as well, but some sort of devices were going underneath the bottom of it; into his mouth – into what little nose he had.

Could she see anything from this angle? Had she already seen what he hid so desperately?

"Are you in pain?"

He closed his eyes and turned his face away from her, trying to imagine why she was speaking with him. Why was she in here alone? Didn't she know he was a monster?

"Should I get a doctor?"

Erik glared at her. "Mmmph!"

"No?" She seemed to be smiling or laughing at him, which stung. "I don't like doctors either. Or hospitals..."

Erik understood at once. Christine's mother had died from a head injury following a car accident, but she had lingered in a hospital bed for more than three months. Christine had been only six or seven at the time, and he knew it had affected both father and daughter a great deal.

They still visited her grave every Sunday afternoon, and spent the rest of the day together. He'd watched them, wondering what it would have been like if he'd been normal. If his father had stayed around or his mother had loved him.

To a boy who had never known comfort, never known sympathy, it was impossible to imagine why Gus Dally would want to take responsibility for him.

He tried to lift his hand again, only to find it still wouldn't budge. Glancing down, he saw that they had strapped his arms and legs to the bed, and quickly he started to panic.

"Don't move, or you'll tear that blasted IV out again, and I swear if I have to see that again I'm going to be sick!"

"Mmmph!" he retorted ineffectively.

"Here, just stop moving!" Christine said, going to his side.

What harm could it do to release his hands? He was awake now, and hopefully wouldn't struggle like before. Just as she was about to lift the strap from across his arm, she paused.

"Promise me you won't do anything foolish."

Erik glared at her, then down at his hand, silently commanding her to release his restraints. "Mmmph!"

"Ah, yes. Mmmph," she replied. "Does that mean you will behave? Because I'm not about to get in trouble for letting your hands go. And just so you know, there are two police officers outside the door, so don't even think about trying to run."

Refusing to be mocked for another 'mmmph', Erik lay his head back on the bed, and hoped she would take his silence for acquiesance.

"If you get me in trouble...," she muttered beneath her breath, and slowly pulled away the velcro straps.

Beneath them, his arms were red and scraped, as thin as two lengths of rope. The only reason she did not stare now was because she had been doing so for the last four hours while he had been unconscious.

Erik sat up slowly, maneuvering the arm with an IV sticking out of it with great care, and turned to the side. Quickly he tugged down the respirator that was in his mouth, and yanked the nose tubes out.

"Get out," he rasped, his mouth dry, his humiliation now complete. He had nothing to say to her, nothing at all. He'd waited to speak to Christine for so long...wanted to know her voice as well as every thought that entered her mind. Now he wanted nothing more than solitude.

"But-"

"Leave," Erik said over his shoulder, not looking at her. "Go sit outside with the damned police."

"You curse an awful lot."

"You're nosy and irritating," he shot back, and pointed towards the door. Suddenly his hand was snatched backwards, and the machine holding his IV bag slammed to the floor. "Dammit!"

He cradled his bleeding hand against his bare chest, glaring at her as she moved around the room to pick up the machine.

"I told you so," Christine said, giving him a satisfied smile. "Does it hurt?"

"Where is your father?" he asked, deliberately ignoring her.

"I told you, he's gone to post your bail. He's getting you out of jail...before someone really kills you next time."

"Is that what happened?"

Christine's eyes flickered over him, causing further discomfort as they rested on his too thin shoulders and chest. "You were intentionally poisoned with cyanide."

"Shocking."

"It's horrible...I'm...I'm very sorry," she said, not knowing what else to say.

Erik lifted one shoulder, and reached for the blanket. He drew it over his shoulders and wrapped one end of it around his bleeding hand. "Just another day," he replied dismissively. "Where are my clothes?"

Christine pointed to a the box that Detective Kohn had left, and Erik glanced at the door, then back at her.

"Oh! I'll tell everyone you're awake!" she exclaimed, and darted towards the door.

Erik sat there in silence, and in a moment of sheer madness, he thanked whoever had been kind enough to try and end his miserable life...for it brought him closer to Christine Dally than he had ever thought possible.