At least 2 more chapters to go and this is done. Thank you to everyone who reviewed! You're the force pushing this story to its conclusion. Also, remember when I said the Erik torture would stop this chapter? I was wrong.
Disclaimer: I don't own POTO or Frankenstein
Bending before the crackling flames, Adam added another stack of twigs to the fire, the ice clinging to his skin turning to water as he took in the warmth. He turned away from the Finn's fireplace, eyes falling on Erik's unconscious form, which he was careful to set as close to the fire as possible. He had once considered the notion of introducing Erik to Aana's cottage, his temporary homestead, but these were not the circumstances he envisioned.
Adam knelt by the man and finished applying the bandages to his chest, a material he himself had never needed. The less he saw of Erik's cracked ribs, accentuated by emaciation, the less he had to agonize over. He glanced at the wound in Erik's side, frustrated at how crude the stitches were. But he had no choice- the needle had been too small for his large fingers and cauterization was too high of a risk. He touched the man's bruised arm, the goosebumps brushing his fingers.
Fever. It was a sensation that plagued him from time to time, but had never done any lasting damage. He found himself staring at Erik's face yet again, at the hole of a nose, at the thin drawn lips, and at the veins that ran below his papery skin and would have extended over his scalp if not for the bandage over it. The face of a corpse indeed.
You and I are the only ones who know the pain.
Adam was still, however, curious of one thing: the voice. What sort of creator had Erik sprung from, to have such a horrid visage and such a heavenly voice? Was he too an experiment aiming at perfection? At a perfection that was rewarded with horror.
His fingers touched Erik's throat, noting the slight movement below them. There was no sign of a stitch, as if the vocal chords had been fused inside him. He added pressure in the investigation, only to recoil when the touches left a series of bruises on Erik's throat. Damn it! He stared at his own hands- it seemed destruction would follow him wherever he went.
Hadn't Erik told him to stop killing? There was more than enough innocent blood on his palms.
Grimacing, Adam placed a hand on Erik's side, mulling over the guilt of what he was about to do. He pressed the stitched wound, earning a low moan from the prone man. It was a lovely moan. He pressed harder, the moans a terrifying music in his ears. Impossible. How?
He pressed until the angel's moans turned into a gargoyle's broken shriek. It was at that point Adam stopped, pulling his hand back in a sweat, his curiosity satisfied and his conscience stained. He stared apologetically at Erik before returning to the dwindling roll of bandages.
As he wrapped them around the skeletal man's torso, he couldn't help but find himself drawn to the scars again. Even under the mounting bruises, cuts, and gauze, the white lines stood out, running jaggedly through Erik's body in a way only made worse by his gaunt build. It reminded Adam of his own stitches, calculating lines that cut through him like seams. Scarring was rare for him, and the ruined sight of Erik's back had unintentionally peaked his curiosity on just how differently they were built.
He lifted the man's thin wrists, again marveling at how frail the fingers appeared. They bruised instantly at his firm touch.
As much as he wanted to rekindle their friendship, Adam knew he had not left Erik on the best of terms. They had been ready to murder each other in his memory. For both their sakes, he took the next course of action.
I'm disappointed, Erik.
Damn it, daroga, leave me be...
The jade eyes stared at him sadly, at the crimson that refused to be washed from his hands. Erik hugged his knees, lost in a void of black between them. Daroga, Erik is sorry. Erik has failed you.
The sultana was right! And you were wrong!
The terrible eyes remained on him. He wept. Erik was wrong. He has always been wrong. You cannot forgive him, daroga. No one can...
Warmth.
He was dry. Crackling. The feeling of thick cloth over his skin. How he had missed that warmth. "Hello Erik," the Persian said, a soft smile touching his serious lips.
Erik heard a moan as his eyes opened. The next sensation he was aware of was pain. He felt as if the sun itself had crashed into his person. His body burned terribly, as if every inch of his flesh had been scorched by fire. Every breath he drew was a fit of agony and despite the newfound warmth, he still found himself racked with shivers and nausea.
He assumed he was in a wooden room, lying on a blanket, the blessed fireplace inches away. Mind numb, he attempted to wiggle his limbs, only to realize his hands were tied behind his back. He tried to sit up, wincing as the bonds cut into his wrists.
The world spun again, and he almost heard the shout of his own name when he fell to the ground, vomiting shamelessly on the floor, his chest about to explode. He was still coughing when he felt a pair of gruff hands around his shoulders. The last image he saw before falling back into the darkness was a strange vision of his own face.
Kristine opted for not going back to sleep, despite the chills that still ran through her. She couldn't return to the nightmares, to the thought of almost having lost her child, her husband, her own life. She shuddered at the thought, touching Gustave's hand with her own. He was beside her, snoring lightly, head swathed in bandages. How many hours until dawn? How long would the snowstorm last?
The night had seemed to stretch forever, a never ending nightmare. It was terrible to inconvenience Frederik's household, she knew, but for the moment, she was grateful that they were not alone in the cottage..
She pulled the covers up to her nose. Although she did not truly want to know why the events occurred, she knew it was inevitable that she would be told. She had never been one to face her fears. And there was still no word of Erik.
Try as she might, she was unable to purge the masked man from her mind. She had flashing memories of the blood in the snow when they... she shook her head, suppressing the rest. But if his condition was as terrible as she suspected, perhaps even worse, she found herself lying awake in concern.
His shoulder had been impaled by an ax blade- that was the only explanation his fuzzy mind could give for the pain. Erik awoke, his surroundings clearer than before, a sure sign that he was indeed out of the snow. He was too tired to hold back a groan. His throat was raw and every part of him ached with a fervor. He convulsed, several coughs racking his battered chest.
He wasn't sure if tears were pricking at his eyes or if he was passing out yet again. Tilting his head slightly, he caught sight of the bandages around his arm- the same material covered his chest and torso.
"You're awake?"
He recognized that guttural voice. It was- he moaned- he knew- he forced himself to lift his head slightly.
"Adam." He barely registered his own harsh whisper. Simply speaking had sparked pain in his chest. Ribs... how silly of Erik.
Spots covered his vision as Adam came to his side and knelt, pulling him into a sitting position just as the spots cleared. "W- What happened?"
Ignoring his own trembles, Erik slurped greedily at the bowl of water in Adam's hands, realizing that his face was uncovered as the liquid stung his split lip. He must have made a grotesque sight.
"You were beaten." Adam paused before continuing the statement. "Badly."
"My mask..."
"Gone."
Erik leaned forward, reluctantly resting on Adam's arm, his own bound hands useless behind him. "Untie me."
"I fear you would leave in some other act of martyrdom." The last word came out bitterly, leaving a sinking suspicion in Erik's mind.
"Is Daae safe?"
He hissed in pain as Adam's grip on his burning shoulder tightened. "And if I said he was not?"
Erik threw himself at the larger man, attempting to ram the latter to the ground, and received a ringing clout to the ear. He fell on his shoulder, tearing a howl of pain from his lips before he lost himself in a bout of coughing and gasping. Adam flipped him none-too-gently on his back, bending over him in repressed anger.
"You insufferable skeleton," the larger man growled, eyes shining with hurt. "If not for Daae, would you be lying here now?" To prove his point, he jabbed a finger into the other man's side, the wound clearly reopened.
"You're bleeding again!" Erik attempted to shift away when the finger poked him in the chest. He cried out.
"And did you forget our terrible scuffle!? Of which he was the cause?"
Adam pulled him up, sending his world into a dimension of blurs and haze. "If you had never been involved, would this-" The large hand closed around his shoulder. His world ripped in two. "-be dislocated!?" The grip tightened as his ears filled with roars of pain.
"Would you need it put back in place!?"
Adam wrenched him forward, forcing his arm upwards until it met his screaming shoulder. Erik suspected his eyes must have rolled back before he crumpled in Adam's arms, lacking the energy to even moan.
Listening to the snowfall outside the wooden walls, Adam imagined that the wind was screaming in pain. He stared at his hands, traces of Erik's blood left on the palms after he had re-stitched the man's wounds. Daae was indeed fine, he suspected. He blinked back the tears; Erik had made it clear yet again who he chose to ally with, and Adam was not too sure if he was bitter for this reason only or if he truly believed the violinist was behind this wickedness.
The dead woman hadn't mentioned him at all.
He hadn't bothered counting the hours since Erik last awoke, but he was sure that morning had not yet come. He was furious at the man and at himself. At this rate, he would surely kill Erik without the intent and in his condition, Adam was worried the man wouldn't last until daybreak. His own temper had nearly murdered his former companion and if that happened, he may as well burn himself alive.
Erik stirred on the floor, resigned eyes opening to slits as he coughed and shook. Adam sat by him, staring forlornly into the fire. "I lied- I'm sure Daae is fine. You must forgive me."
Cough.
"Erik, the men and women in the forest, I managed to catch one of them. She was threatened into confessing everything to me."
Crackle. Cough. "Go... go on." A bitter rasp.
Erik's eyes shut from the pain, though Adam was sure he was still listening. "The man who beat you, his name is Anders. And my creator, he was Baron Victor Von Frankenstein."
The name felt like poison on his tongue, but as he began the tale, Adam found that he felt nothing at all for the rest, save a strange sense of vengeance.
"He had attempted to destroy all evidence of his last experiment on this earth, all record of my creation. But in his last feverish days, he took refuge on a British ship, and there, a man wrote down his every word. Mark me, every word. This Englishman is long dead, but from the woman's tale, I have pieced together what became of his letters..."
Cliffhanger! Thanks for reading and again, reviews are more than welcome. Each review counts as a hug for sick!hurt!sad!Erik.
Next time, Adam's story finishes and maybe our companions can get on slightly better terms.