Can I just say sorry for the late update? But it's here! Also, no Erik "POV" this time, he needs a break from thinking. And thank you all for the wonderful reviews! You've successfully hooked poor Erik to a supply of IVs.
Disclaimer: I don't own POTO or Frankenstein
The Frenchman's injuries were decidedly not light in the least. According to Frederik, they had found the man literally covered in wounds and Gustave dared not imagine what revolting tortures he must have gone through. A pang of guilt lodged itself within him when Dr. Nilson had explained the full extent of Erik's injuries, and judging from the old doctor's tired face, he had already spent a good portion of the morning tending the man.
Gustave stroked the bandages around his forehead, the throbbing subsiding. The storm was finally over and Nilson planned to the following morning. The doctor's wife would be worried. Yes, Gustave could understand. He too had planned to leave the same day with Kristine, but Hilda had insisted they stay, and Erik's presence complicated matters. The violinist was unsure whether or not it would be safe to move the Frenchman in his state- Erik would certainly not be able to walk on his own.
He sat on the couch, opposite the fire, and smiled at Frederik's son, a strong bright boy. The youth smiled back and turned back to his own devices. Kristine took her place beside him, Nilson having disappeared into the guest room to tend his latest patient. The doctor had advised the other occupants of the crowded cottage not to remove the gauze around Erik's face. Why, he did not specify.
As Frederik's household chatted about the weather and lighter subjects that suddenly felt so out of place, Gustave wondered what to say to Erik once the man awoke, though he hoped Erik wouldn't succumb to blood loss or illness before then. After all, what was there to say to a man who was only at death's door because he had saved your life?
It was time for him to leave. Enough had transpired during his stay at the village and Adam was ready to leave another set of tragedies behind. But something had changed in the air around him, and he was sure that he too was tired of the bloodshed and solitude. Scanning the Finn's home one last time, he felt drawn to the brown stains on the floor. Blood.
If Daae had not been so keen to offer his friendship, Adam wondered whether or not his companion would still go to such lengths for the man. Or had Erik done so out of some innate goodness that seemed tragically monumental given how little of it he had seen? His mind flashed back to the first night they met, to Erik shaking his hand. Adam almost envied the outright nobility of it. He threw the tattered cloak over his shoulders- he wanted to replace it soon.
He would have to assume that Erik was safe and living. As for himself, Adam decided that if a man once known as the living corpse could harness so much goodwill, if this man could prove himself inherently better than those born into happier lives, then perhaps it was not too late for the thing once known as Frankenstein's creature to seek salvation.
And in that moment, Adam forgave his father. For Victor von Frankenstein was now a mere thing of the past.
Kristine entered the room silently. Frederik had details to divulge to Dr. Nilson and Gustave, details that she was too tired to listen to. Anything to do with that night should have been swiftly purged from her mind. The increasingly busy household had helped her nerves calm somewhat and she feared the state her mind would return to once she and Gustave returned home. She touched the bulge.
My child, my dear sweet child.
She would be strong for that child, for that lovely boy or girl she could call her own flesh and blood. They were dire circumstances she escaped, the child escaped, and she would find herself weeping tears of gratitude by the hour for the brutal death they escaped. Tentatively, she knelt by the bed, bringing her eyes toward Erik's bandaged face. The shut eyes were covered in shadow and bruises. To her disturbance, Kristine noticed a lack of shape where the nose should have been. She did not want to find out why.
She couldn't help but wince when she scanned the man. There did not seem to be an inch of exposed flesh that wasn't covered in painful dark bruising, scrapes, and cuts. The rest of him was hidden behind bandages and the bed's covers. She remembered accusing him of a heinous crime, of fearing for her life very life when he was around, of being horrified by the scent of death on his cloak. It made her feel ugly.
"Erik," she said softly.
His still figure failed to stir, chest rising unevenly. "Gustave... Gustave told me. We," she looked at her belly before turning back to him, "our whole family would be gone if not for you."
She took one of those spidery hands in her own, surprised at how thin and bony they were. They were inhumanly cold and she felt a twinge of worry. "I'm sorry." For the pain she may have caused him, for the pain he had suffered for her family. Careful not to cause him any more hurt, she lifted the hand to her lips.
"Thank you."
She kissed each bruise tenderly, pressing against his fingers with the barest of force. She spent the next hour praying by his bedside.
"Frederik, you're saying he should be arrested?" Gustave asked, aghast as his friend added another log to the fire.
"If he lives, that is," Frederik replied, "don't be misunderstanding me, Gustave. Men died and your frenchman's the only one who knows how. Doesn't matter if he meant well-"
"Pardon," Nilson interrupted, "but I'd suggest you leave the poor fellow out of it. Things are getting too complicated and I wouldn't want you to get in over your heads."
He thinks us simple. Gustave frowned. True, the men who accosted Kristine were dead- those that escaped were gone, as far as the town knew, and murder was reasonable. Murder. The word didn't seem right. It made his blood run cold and simultaneously felt so surreal. He was barely conscious when Erik carried him through the snow and it seemed they survived by a miracle alone. But to label his savior a murderer? He knew it was possible but it didn't feel right. Especially because even he didn't know what to feel for the men who had nearly killed Kristine.
"All this superstition," the doctor continued, "they found myling worship in houses of the dead. I don't know what they could possibly be thinking, but you all are lucky to be alive."
"So that's it?" Frederik said, "we let them close the case and never explain? They were planning something else- Gustave, you weren't there when we went to town in the noon. I forget the man's name, the crackpot leader of theirs, wanted to raise a child."
"I don't understand."
"A devil's child, to be precise," Nilson said with a shake of his head, "I can only guess from what we saw but the madman had constructed a womb of sorts from wood and paint. They were looking for a human vessel to bear the child- satanist work or pure insanity, no one wanted to delve further."
Frederik's face turned green. Gustave was torn between disgust and an once of pity for the cult's madness.
"And they're still investigating the deaths?" he asked.
"Some officer'll be here to question you soon. I already told them all I know. Hope the lady won't mind."
"I... I'll talk to her... what about Erik? They want him too?"
Frederik nodded. "When he wakes- we'll have to see. A lot of blood on his hands and I think they're looking to pin the blame on someone for that night."
"You seem like an honest man, Mr. Daae," Nilson said, "on a personal level, this is my advice for you and the frenchman. When you're asked, lie if you must, make everyone here look like a victim. Skip details, make up memories, and if you care as much for your recovering friend as you say, don't give them a reason to dirty his name. Poor man's been through quite enough." Pity in his voice, as if he had seen something the other two men had not.
Gustave bit his lip. "And- and if he lives?"
"Nothing should change." The doctor rubbed the bottom of his chin. "Unless you're not careful with your words. There's a long time ahead in jail for him and I don't think a man like him would make it out, least not after these wounds."
"Want me to get Kristine?" Frederik asked. Gustave rose, shaking his head. "No, I'll talk to her later. Give her some time... I need to go to town, the inn." He hadn't the heart to speak coherently. "I don't know if they'll be looking at the inn..."
"Take my boy, he's a grown man now- I don't think I could handle going back there today. Too many questions."
Gustave nodded. He didn't quite feel up to the walk but it had to be done sooner or later. He needed to retrieve Erik's belongings- after all, he had already decided that the man would be staying with him for the duration of his recovery.
A long, thick shadow glided through the snow, its owner a mass of obscurity in the distance, his footsteps large and soft. He passed the messy town, pass their squabbles and screams, pass the burnt remains of hay and bodies. They would cover up the blood of their children as man inevitably would. He passed the house of Anders, the remnants of Frankenstein's work forever lost.
Tired, yellow eyes looked in. Candlesticks were unlit in the corners, a shape in the center, carved to almost look like a woman's womb, painted in dry brown, eerily similar to the color of fresh blood unused. He passed the perverse sight.
Into the woods and he was gone.
Nilson was gone by the time the violinist arrived at Frederik's home, too anxious to see his own family safe. Gustave returned, thoroughly exhausted, and upon thanking the boy for his company, promptly dozed off on the couch, immune to the clatter in the kitchen. When he awoke, he could hear the soft sounds of Kristine's singing. He assumed she was helping Hilda tuck their daughter in. Feeling lighter and stiffer, he stood up and after much debate, decided to see the guest room.
The door was ajar. Who? Frederik's form loomed by the bed, bottom lip quivering and eyes dangerously wide. Uneasy, Gustave entered, a dim candle the only source of light. The bandages around Erik's face were slightly ruffled.
He stepped forward, just in time to see Frederik raise a knife above the injured man's chest.
"Frederik!"
The knife slid from startled hands, leaving a thin cut in Erik's shoulder. Immediately Gustave found himself wrapped around Frederik, grunting and pulling as he shoved the other man away from the bed.
"What the hell are you doing!?" he hissed, too angry to say anything else as Frederik struggled.
"That- that thing! I can't have it in my home! It's not human, Gustave!"
"What are you talking about!?"
Frantically, Frederik pointed at Erik's head. Do not look! Erik had once said. And Gustave understood at once. "You saw his face."
"Just look at it, Gustave- I knew there was something wrong- this is no man-"
"He saved my life!" Gustave shook Frederik by the shoulders. "He saved Kristine! He saved my child! I cannot let you kill him in cold blood- I will not look because I do not care, Frederik- I can never repay this man! A man, just like you and me!"
He let go, panting. Still shaking, Frederik retrieved the knife, a bit of blood staining the blade's edge. "Gustave," he whispered,"you haven't seen-"
"I thank you, Frederik, really I do, but we can't abuse your hospitality any longer," Gustave said, "tomorrow we'll leave and take him with us. So please, please, just leave him alone for tonight."
At a loss for words, Frederik nodded before exiting the room, shaking and pale, whether from guilt, disgust, or both, Gustave could not tell. No sound. Kristine stepped out of the shadows quietly and into the room, carrying a covered bowl, brows knit and visibly distressed. She had heard the sounds but her husband wished to say no more.
"I- I was bringing some stew, if he woke... I guess- I don't- I should leave."
"No, come in. Set it here."
Gustave watched as she put the bowl on the bedside table, her eyes tired and golden strands falling into her eyes. Before he could brush them aside, her gaze fell on Erik's shoulder.
"He's hurt again," she said quietly.
Without waiting for a reply, Kristine tore a strip of gauze from Nilson's leftover bandages. In the candlelight, she dabbed at the blood around the cut. "It's small." "Yes."
She bound the cut nonetheless, working so gently Gustave was afraid the bandage wouldn't hold. Finished, she cast one last glance at Erik before walking into Gustave's arms.
"Don't cry," he said.
She said nothing, instead taking his hand and placing it on her her stomach. "I need a name."
"If it's a daughter," he said, "I'd like to call her Christine. I can't think of a better woman to name her after."
She kissed him then and they stood in silence, waiting for the house to quiet. Erik moaned a few times in the night, only to be soothed by one of the couple as the hours drew by.
How many of you thought I'd let Erik get stabbed again? Anyway, thanks for reading! And reviews are super welcome- they count as payment for Erik's medical bills.
Also, it's my headcanon that Gustave would prefer a daughter over a son because he's just that type of guy. And Dr. Nilson just had the craziest time at Frederik's. I don't think he'll make an appearance next chapter though.
Next time: an epilogue of sorts and maybe a glimpse of Adam in France?