Chapter 14- Medicine Man

Christine self consciously adjusted her hair as she looked into the mirror on her dressing table. She smoothed her dress down, knocking imaginary pieces of fluff off the material. Glancing into the mirror she inspected her own features, hoping that Angel would notice how she looked, that she was pretty. She was not really sure why she did it, what her attraction was to him. Surely you could not develop feelings for someone you had never met?

But his voice... that voice.

She wondered if he was married but thought that he probably wasn't, not if he was spending so much time at the Opera Populair. How could any woman resist the texture of his voice? When he spoke to her she waited, hung on every single word but when he sang it was as if she was flying. She felt weightless and powerless, wanting to go anywhere, feeling that she could do anything.

Christine knew that this man was no angel but it was a nice dream, it kept her happy. She even liked to think that her father had sent her the angel of music, or at least something close. For so many months since her father's death she had mourned him inwardly but tried not to think about him too much. It had been the angel's presence in her life that had brought him to mind more and more often.

Even as cynical about the whole thing as she was, part of her wanted to believe that this man had been sent to protect her, as Madame Giry had. Perhaps her father had known this man before his death, had told him to come back for her, to teach her and look after her. Shaking the thoughts from her mind she released a sigh.

As much as she tried to imagine it she could not imagine how her father would know the man or, indeed, why he would chose to send him to her.

'Christine,'

Her heart fluttered and she swallowed her nerves. He was there.

'Good evening, Angel,' she said softly.

'How are you feeling?' he asked.

'I'm fine,' she answered, confused.

'How is your ankle?'

She felt a blush. 'It is not too bad today,' she answered, thinking about the embarrassing fall she had had on stage the night before. 'You watched the performance?'

'Of course,' he said simply and she was disappointed when he did not elaborate,

'Would you like me to sing the aria we rehearsed the night before last?' she asked.

There was silence and the longer in continued the more Christine worried that she had some how let him down or angered him. She felt her heart grow heavy in her chest as she waited for him to respond.

'No,' he finally said and Christine blinked back tears. She had angered him.

'I'm sorry,' she said quietly, she had not cried in years and would not cry now.

'What for?' he asked but she could not place the tone of his voice.

'For angering you...' she said, feeling the words stick in her throat. Pull it together, Christine, she thought, you will only make matters worse.

'I'm not angry,' he said simply.

'Then why do you not want me to sing?'

He laughed. 'I think you deserve a rest tonight, it will do your voice no harm to have a break,'

She stared around her, never knowing where exactly to look when he spoke to her. It would help if she could pinpoint where he was speaking to her from but it was as if he was everywhere, in every wall, in the ceiling... his voice surrounded her.

'What will I do instead?' she asked.

'Whatever it is that woman do,' he said. Such a simple answer.

'Can we just talk?' she asked.

There was a moments silence. 'Talk about what?'

'I don't know,' she said. 'But it seems a little unfair that you know a lot about me and I know nothing about you...'

Not even your real name she thought.

'There's nothing you need to know about me,'

'Perhaps not,' she said reasonably. 'But there are things I want to know,'

'Why?' he asked.

'Because that's what friends do,' she said. 'They tell each other things,'

'Is that we are?' he asked.

'What?'

'Friends?'

She paused briefly before answering. 'Aren't we?'

A silence fell in the room, she heard no sound, no movement.

'Are we not friends?' she asked again, a little louder in case he had not heard.

'I am your teacher,' he responded.

She felt a tug on her heart. 'Does that mean we can not be friends, as well?'

'Friends...' the voice surrounded her again. 'I don't have friends, not really, friends are an overrated entity,'

She frowned, feeling a dull beat in her heart. 'I have good friends...'

'The only friends I have ever had have betrayed me in some way,' he snapped. She swallowed back but took solace in that he had shared at least one piece of information about himself. He had no, or few, friends. They had betrayed him.

'I won't betray you,' she said softly.

'We'll see,' he said. 'This is probably enough talking for one day,'

She nodded.

'Enjoy the day,' he said. 'I hear the weather is glorious,'

The sun was beaming down, in streaks of spectacular gold, over the hills in the distance. Warmth was what the summer had so far brought, not hot, stickiness, but a beautiful warmth. Scott enjoyed the view from his parlour window very much, he enjoyed the peace and tranquillity it allowed him, his view of the countryside that back onto the busy streets of Paris. He had planned to spend the entire day doing nothing so when there was a knock at the parlour door he was, to say the least, a little surprised.

'Come in,' he said, turning in his chair to face the opening door. Diane, the maid, smiled as she entered.

'I'm sorry to bother you, Monsieur Giry,' she said, her voice delicate and shy, as always. 'But there is a man in the hallway insisting on seeing you,'

'Is he one of my business associates?' he asked, frowning. He had told people he would be unavailable today.

'Not one that I have seen before, Monsieur,' she said. 'He said that he needed your medical expertise,'

Scott paused, stunned by the request for his medical assistance. He had not practiced medicine for years, instead getting into property and banking.

'Send him through,' Scott said.

He waited in the glow of the sun, standing instead of sitting out of caution. The last time he was in a medical situation there had been scandal. Some had blamed him but in the end the real culprit had been sent to prison. He sighed, hoping that this was not some family member out for misguided vengeance. He had allowed the man in because it was unfair to ask his maid to deal with him, particularly if he was here to injure Scott.

It was a few moments before the door creaked cautiously open and a hooded man, hunched over stepped into the room, closing the door with equal care, behind him. Scott stared at him, trying to make out his face, but the man kept his head down low.

'Can I help you, Monsieur?' he finally asked.

'Scott...' the man gurgled before he dropped to his knees. Scott ran forward and held the man up, so that he did not fall to the floor. It was only when his hood fell back to his shoulders that Scott realised who it was.

'Good grief,' he said, heaving him to his feet and pulling him to the couch. There was blood everywhere, his lip was split, his eyes black and cut.

'Scott...' he murmured again, clutching his ribs.

'Laurent,' he whispered, cradling the younger man in his arms.

'I'm hurt...' Laurent coughed as Scott stroked dried blood out of his blonde hair. 'I'm hurt…'

'I can see that...' Scott said, feeling air catch deep in his throat. It was, to Scott as though the world had stopped. 'What happened?'

'I'm sorry...'

'Shh...' Scott whispered. 'I'll call the maid, we will take you to hospital,'

He began to stand but felt Laurent's grasp on his forearm. 'No,'

'I don't have enough of the things I need to help you,' Scott said, a sense of urgency surrounding him, pulling him in.

'I can't go...' he choked again, a gurgling sound, blood in the corner of his mouth. Scott felt as if his heart as stopped.

'You need...'

Laurent held his hand over his mouth and coughed with a wince. When his hand dropped from his face it was covered in blood. 'No hospital, Scott...'

Scott hooked his arm around Laurent and eased him down so that he was lying on the sofa.

'Diane!' he called. 'Diane!!'

She came darting in, obviously sensing the distress from the room. She took a glance at Laurent and her face paled, she would not recognise him of course, Scott had not seen him in years, but she was not immune to the sight of blood.

'I need you to draw me a bowl of steaming hot water,' he said. 'Get Rachel to get blankets and bandages from the top cupboard,'

She blinked, not moving. 'Anything else,' she said, her eyes fixed on Laurent.

'Hot water, bandages, blankets, salt, whiskey, cotton, needles...' he thought, it had been so long since he had done this. 'And two empty bowls,'

Diane nodded and in seconds he heard her outside calling instructions to the young Rachel. Their footsteps pounding around, running, they too being sucked into the urgency. It felt like a lifetime, as he stroked Laurent's hair, waiting for them to return with the things he had asked for. Only Diane came in, carrying the bowl of hot water and then returning again with the rest of what he had asked for.

'One more thing...' he said, looking up from his kneeling position at his loyal maid. 'A cup of cold water...'

A quick nod and once again she was gone.

Scott looked around him, at the equipment he has asked for. He poured some of the steaming water into one of the empty bowls. Then he added salt to the mix. He grabbed one of the bandages and ripped a small section off it, dipping into the salty water.

'Can you take your shirt off?' Scott asked.

Laurent nodded and, with some difficulty, unbuttoned and removed his blood stained shirt. There were bruises and cuts along his ribs and Scott handed Laurent the whiskey.

'Take a swig on this,' he said as Laurent took it from his hands.

He took the cap off and placed the bottle to his lips, tilting it back he took a sip.

'You'll need more,' Scott said. 'Take a gulp...'

And so Laurent obeyed, trusting Scott with his life. Scott took the bottle from him, putting the top back on and placing it back on the floor.

'Lie back,' Scott said and as Laurent did as he was told Scott wiped the cuts with the bandage covered in salt water. Laurent winced but did not yell out, did not scream. Scott saw his fingertips curl into the cushion, gripping it as his knuckles went white, but Laurent did not say a word.

Diane returned with the water placing it by Scott's side and scurrying quickly away. He could hear her waiting outside the door though, her shoes on the hard floor as she stepped from foot to foot.

He dipped his finger in the cold water and ran it across Laurent's lips. 'We need to keep them moist, they are split enough already,'

Laurent's pale and bloody face nodded back at him.

Scott dried the wounds off but they still bled and so, he began to thread a needle with the thin black cotton Diane had brought him. He handed Laurent the whiskey.

'Big swallow,' he said simply and Laurent did as instructed. 'I'm going to sew your wounds... it will hurt,'

Laurent nodded and closed his eyes. Scott placed the needled over the steam from the bowl for a few seconds and then, with a lump in his throat, pierced Laurent's wounded skin with the tip. Laurent jumped, took another swig of the whiskey that was still in his hand, but stayed silent.

'Can I have the whiskey for a moment?' Scott asked. Laurent handed it to him. Scott dabbed a little on the open wound, allowed Laurent to take another swig and then dabbed some more on.

Sewing carefully he would not dare look at Laurent's face, could not bear to see the pain plastered all over it. A wave of nausea filled him but he fought it away and continued to sew. When the two worst cuts were closed he soaked another small section of bandage in salt water and cleaned it again.

No bleeding.

'Are you alright?' he asked, finally finding the courage to look up.

Laurent forced a smile. 'I think so,'

'You're very ill,' Scott said simply. 'You have internal bleeding and I have no way to stop it, the whiskey won't have helped that but I had little choice... either you sit there in agony or nullify it slightly with alcohol,'

Laurent nodded. He understood.

'I'm going to clean your face not, sew the wound on your head and then get you into bed,' he said. 'The only thing I can suggest is plenty of rest, no more alcohol once this is over, plenty of tonic and fruit juice... you must keep your vitamin levels high...'

Laurent was staring at him, soft blue eyes awash with pain and suffering.

'What happened to you? Scott asked, as he cleaned the wounds on Laurent's face with the salt water.

Laurent remained silent.

'Laurent,' Scott demanded. 'Tell me what happened, who did this?'

'I can not,' he said. 'The same reason I can not go to hospital... this is my own fault,'

'Yet I sit here trying to save you,' Scott said. 'Still you won't tell me what has happened?'

Laurent's eyes grew sorrowful but he shook his head, defiant.

Scott cleaned the gash on the side of Laurent's head, dabbed it with alcohol and sewed it up.

'Diane,' he said finally, feeling the sweat drip from his brow.

She entered silently and stood near the door her eyes drifting around at the blood stained bandages on the floor and the bloody bowl of water.

'In my locked cabinet,' he said, holding out the key for her. 'There is a brown bottle containing morphine, please bring it to me,'

Taking the key, she nodded, and disappeared quickly. While she was gone he wrapped a length of bandage around Laurent's waist.

'Please Laurent...' Scott said, letting his eyes drift up again. 'Who did this... tell me who, let me help you...'

'You've already helped me, Scott,'

Scott nodded. 'I will get you a bed ready,'

'I can't stay,'

'You must,'

'How can I?' Laurent asked, tears showing in his soft eyes.

'She will understand,' Scott said.

'She will never understand,'

Scott sighed. Laurent was probably right but Scott could not let the younger man leave and keep his good conscience in tact.

'At least let me speak to her while you rest,' Scott said. 'If there is no way through you can leave tomorrow,'

Laurent looked away, out of the window.

'I need you to stay so that I can monitor you,' Scott said. 'If you don't rest you will die...'

Laurent nodded. 'Fine,' he said. 'Where is my room?'