Journal,

Erik has not awoken yet. Well, I take that back, occasionally I have found him half-awake. Conscious enough that I can feed him and not so much that he can protest the action. It is a small blessing that I am utterly thankful for.

Who is this? An angel?

Why can I not see anything?

Ah. She touches me! Soft hands… so gentle…

She is touching my face. My mask! Where is my mask?

"Shh… Erik, it is okay. Do not move, you'll injure yourself. There, dear one, I am here…"

soft words, too… words of love… dear one? Is that what she calls me?… her voice is sublime.

Who is this? Christine?

No, it cannot be her. Christine hates me… I am keeping her against her will. Why am I doing that? Oh yes, because she hates me.

"You cannot have her." he rasped, grabbing the angel's arm roughly in his hand, "I will not let her leave. Christine is Erik's. He cannot live without her!"

She hissed and tried to pull away, but he only tightened his hold. "Erik!" she cried, "This is Christine… this is your wife. I am here. You are hurting me… please let me go."

Christine! It is her! How can that be?

"I will never let you go." he whispered harshly--but he did slacken his grip and she wriggled free.

From what I've gathered, Erik thinks he is dying. It would be funny if it weren't so very sad.

Christine tied another fresh bandage over Erik's chest. Cleaning out wounds was her least favorite part of playing nursemaid. She wasn't particularly squeamish--not compared to those other women who faint at the sight of blood--but the sight of his mangled skin oozing blood and the hiss of his pain as she cleaned and disinfected tender spots was difficult to bear.

An infection, though, would be even worse to manage. Besides, she was not about to let her husband die because she was too weak to take care of him. What kind of woman would that make her?

No. That would not do at all.

Once the new dressing was secure, she moved the quilt back over him. Christine was not sure if it did anything to keep him warm (despite all her best efforts, he skin was still cold), but she knew that Erik would not like to be so exposed, so she kept him covered.

As she did this, his eyes fluttered open. He raised his hand slowly, not surprising her and gripping her arm like last time, but very gently reaching out to stroke the lock of hair that stubbornly fell out of her bun.

"Christine… my dear Christine…" he whispered. The few other times he had spoken it had been frantic and threatening. Now, though, his voice was soft… peaceful even.

"Christine… I love you and I always will. If you have no other good memories of me, remember that. I have always loved you. You have made me so happy…"

Christine made a curious face. What is he talking about? Is he saying 'goodbye' to me?

"Erik?"

He will not die, though. Not yet. I'm too angry for that to happen. He and I need to have a long talk and I need to know the truth about what he did to Raoul. After that, all bets are off.

"Shh, don't speak my love. Just sit with me."

"You are going to be fine, Erik. I mean it."

"Oh, my darling girl! You are so good to me. Do not be afraid for your Erik, but remember that he adored you."

Her eyebrow arched up and she may have given the tiniest of smirks. Don't be cruel, Christine. Now is not the time for humor. Ah! But when is the time? My life has been such a nightmare that I should accept any levity as it comes! Fine. You win. But you should at least tell him…

"Erik, I don't mean that as wishful thinking. I mean you really are going to be fine."

Christine shook her head. He hadn't heard her--he was already fast asleep.

I sense that he is improving. Every hour seems a little better than the last. By some miracle, I have been able to prevent the infection of his wounds. That Persian fellow comes by each day to check on us and bring more supplies. He thinks that Erik will be alright, he just needs time.

He is a remarkably fast healer--a trait which I envy. I still have the lingering remnants of that nasty cut on my forehead from my tragic defeat against the bed post on that night. Come to think of it, I suppose that's another reason I should be glad I haven't sought out Raoul just yet. It would not do for him to think I have been beaten.

I am fairly certain that Erik is not the monster Raoul seems to think he is. However, I am not about to try and convince him of that. After all he's been through it would be a slap in the face to say 'Erik is not all that bad'.

Speaking of Raoul, he is not faring as well as Erik is. I will not lie--I am very worried about him. Each day the news seems more grave. He is weak and feverish, but also violently delirious. It had been my original intent to wait to visit him when he awoke. I may have to reconsider. As much as I shudder to think of the possibility, I need to see him before he dies. Does that make me a horrible person? I do not wish to think negatively. All of me hopes that he will get well again. Still… is it wrong of me to prepare for the worst?

I shall have to ponder that.

Actually, I might as well ponder it now. I have had a good deal of time to think. It has been so very lonely without Erik's company. So, I tend to him when I need to. The rest of the time I just think and pray.

I am not sure of my feelings at the moment. On the one hand, I am absolutely furious with Erik. I feel like he betrayed my trust, and I'm upset. I know I don't seem like it, but I am. On the other hand, I am so concerned about him.

I want to hurt him. I truly do.

But, right now, seeing him in pain hurts me.

How do I reconcile the two?

And what of Raoul? While my feelings for Erik are not clear, my feelings for Raoul are. I love him dearly. Especially now, he is in my thoughts just as much as Erik is. Why then, am I sitting here next to a coffin that my husband is occupying while Raoul may be on his death bed?

I wish I knew why I do the things I do.

I also wish I knew why Erik does half of the things that he does. For example, why is my husband--who is currently alive--insisting on lying in a coffin?

"It was for convenience, my dear," Erik chuckled.

Christine's head shot up and saw Erik smiling at her and attempting to sit up. She rushed over to help him sit, but he waved her off.

"The coffin…" he continued, "I figured it would be easier if I were already in there."

Chuckling again at Christine's puzzled expression he pointed to the journal she was holding explained to her that she had read that last line out loud. She blushed and buried her face in her hands, simultaneously mortally embarrassed and extremely thankful that she hadn't revealed any more than that.

Erik began to laugh heartily. Her reaction was priceless. His laugh, however, quickly turned into a groan as he doubled over in pain. She rushed to his side, scolding him for aggravating his wounds.

"Your face…" he gasped, "…worth it…"

My husband must be feeling better. He has begun to tease his wife again.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I am going to take advantage of this and spend some time with him. Later we are going to have a conversation. Luckily, he's still injured enough that he won't be able to escape me.

Until next time,

Christine


Note: Well, I have to say that I'm not thrilled with this chapter. I promised myself I could finished it before I have to tackle a really big research paper. I know it's slow, but I figured Christine deserved a little time to reflect on things before she has to sort out all her problems. I hope it's not to OOC for either of them. I don't know, tell me what you think. Honestly, if you hate it, I'll take it down and try something else.