Chap 17

Damn. It is really rather difficult to lather up a washcloth with one hand.

A simple bath was proving to be quite the ordeal. Erik was frustrating himself with his attempt to clean himself single handedly. He ended up doing some awkward motions to accomplish what everyone else would perform as routine. He had already realized he had to use an extra gentle touch on his injured arm and leg, as the pain he experienced he was less than gentle demonstrated several minutes before. He had scrubbed at his face roughly, though, making the partially healed wounds bleed again. The little crimson droplets rolled down his chin unto the water and dispersed in swirls as his hand passed underneath.

Beauty is everywhere; you just have to open your eyes to see it.

He focused on the multicolored bruises on his left arm, and dared to move his fingers a little. He needed to know, despite the pain every little movement produced. They were stiff, but all worked. Even the swollen pinkie moved. He was elated. He would be able to play his music again after all. After lathering up his hair, he sunk down into the water; eyes closed and shook his head. Under the water, the warmth on his face felt like the caress of warm, soft hands.

He stayed underwater until the burning in his lungs was no longer bearable. Gasping, he shot up, and let the warm water run in rivers down his flesh. He blinked his eyes open and pushed aside the curtain of warm hair. The water was now a slight reddish color, with soap bubbles afloat, a testament to the amount of blood that had permeated his hair from the attack. He lay back with his head hanging over the edge of the tub and closed his eyes, letting himself relax. The warm, soft water now caressed his body. His mind floated and he allowed himself to fantasize a little.

So, if that was Elaine last night, what would I have done differently? I would have remained in the bed, of course. How good that would have felt.

His body grew aroused immediately. His mind urged him to give up this line of thinking.

Stop dreaming.

He opened his eyes and saw the dark gloom of a cave, the same damp cave he saw at the piano yesterday. Candles were everywhere. He was wet, cold, walking in green water.

This time I will not lose consciousness.

He was determined to see this memory through to completion. In the haze of memory, he saw himself walking towards a set of stone stairs, bent over, dripping. The faintest sense of a pain was in his chest. The pain was not physical; it was the pain of heartache. He looked behind him, out over a body of green water within the cave to a metal gate. In front of the gate was a man, seemingly attached to the gate struggling in the thigh deep water as woman in a white dress rushed towards him. He could not tell why the man was struggling. His vision was diverted back to the stairs where he continued slowly walking up.

"Take her. Forget me…" he heard himself say. The next thing he saw was a woman in white, walking towards him.

The same woman was at the gate…

Just her appearance tugged at his heart, the pain in his chest rising with a crescendo as she approached. She was so beautiful, so innocent. Stark white skin was surrounded by dark curls, and deep chocolate eyes were directed towards him. Her expression was one of sadness? Pity? Fear? It was hard to decipher. A name came to mind.

Christine. Her hand reached out to him.

"Oh my God, Erik!" Erik heard a muffled voice say. He blinked and in an instant he was staring through a diffuse reddish cloud. He inhaled…a second later he was sorry he did.

Strong arms shot into the bath, wrapped under his shoulders and pulled Erik's head up and out of the water. Nate was leaning over him, a look of fear in his face, drenched.

Erik coughed up water for a good five minutes.

As he was remembering, his body had slipped under the warm waters. His consciousness was so glued onto the memory that he did not notice he was drowning. The checks and balances that one's body did to prevent death were too easy for his mind to override.

"I'm sorry Nate," Erik struggled to say between fits of coughing.

"Don't you ever do that again!" Nate shouted, angry. "What were you thinking?"

"I can't explain it, Nate. I was just remembering something," Erik sputtered.

"Well no more remembering if it is going to kill you!" He bellowed, walking around the bathroom to disperse his anger.

If he would have died, I would never have forgiven myself. This man has come to far only to let him drown in a bathtub because of my negligence. .

"I did not even realize I had slipped under the water. I was in another world. I did not do it on purpose. I was not trying to harm myself." Erik said, trying to convince him.

"Let's get you out of here." Nate continued to grumble as he walked a towel covered Erik into the bedroom. He applied the new splints onto his arm and leg after drying the skin.

"These splints are less bulky, but stronger, reinforced with metal plates. I'll leave the fingers on your left hand exposed, except for the small finger; that was the one that was broken, actually, dislocated." Nate explained, calming himself down. Nate used his ability to babble well.

"Thanks again Nate. And again, I am so sorry. Can you accept a brother's apology?" Erik asked.

"Let's not make a habit of this, shall we? I don't think my heart can handle it. You are going to be the death of me one day." Nate gave him a half smile.

Nate helped Erik dress himself in some of Dr. Dyson's old clothing, when he was more slender, and stood taller. It fit him perfectly. Nate handed him a comb to fix his hair. Erik winced as he pulled through the knots because combing also pulled on the wounds on his head. Once that was done, Nate helped him up onto his crutches.

"Marjorie said you were about the same size Dr. Conrad was a number of years ago. She is his nurse but also his seamstress, and a damn good one at that. Well, she was right. These clothes look like they were made for you. Not bad, not bad at all," Nate said, standing with his arms crossed in front of Erik. He had a look of satisfaction on his face. "See for yourself."

Nate turned Erik around to look at the mirror that he had almost smashed. He was pleasantly surprised. Before him stood a gentleman wearing a white shirt, black smoking jacket and loose dark pants. The crutches were still there. His hair appeared quite dark because it was wet. It was wavy, but more controlled than the stringy mess it had been before. As he leaned forward on his crutches, the dark wet locks dropped forward, partially obscuring the deformed side of his face. It made him look almost acceptable.

Human. Yes, definitely human now. Erik thought.

"Well Erik, now that you are dressed, I shall have to go and change into some dry clothes. I seem to be a bit wet, thanks to you." Nate walked to the door of the room, smirking. "Breakfast will be in about an hour. You should join us downstairs."

"I think I shall." Erik said, after thinking for a minute. He was feeling more confident.

After Nate left, Erik hobbled over to the table where his journal lay. He opened it and looked at the drawing of Elaine. His finger traced the outline of her face and neck slowly. He touched the cheek gently. He closed the book and then his eyes. The words Nate had said about Elaine in the bathroom earlier that morning returned to him.

Maybe, just maybe? No. Stop falling for her, dreaming about her. You will only be disappointed and get hurt.

His heart ached a little and he heard a whimper come from his throat.

No, it was not from his throat. He heard the noise again. Moving over to the door quietly, he opened it and listened carefully. Now there was a sound that pained him to the bottom of his soul.

The muffled sound was a woman crying; the deep, heartfelt sobs, barely perceivable through the closed doors. Slowly he inched his way down the hall, to where the sound was the easiest to hear. He did not know who it was. He raised his hand to touch the door, but hesitated. The sobbing continued, growing worse.

This is really none of my concern; I should leave her alone…

"Are you alright?" Erik said, before he could stop the words from jumping out of his mouth. He chastised himself for intruding upon this woman, whoever it may be. The crying stopped suddenly. He heard gentle footsteps nearing the door. Erik fought the internal urge to turn and walk away.

The door opened. It was Elaine who stood before him.