She sat motionless staring at the mask in her hands. Bracing herself, Christine looked at Erik and sucked in a breath. Stubbornly she kept her eyes on his face, even as the night in the clearing came back to her; that first glimpse of it, and her reaction, could still make her squirm with remorse. She studied him for a long while, getting used to the odd contours of his facial bones, the skin stretched tight over-all, transparent and delicate. The absence of a nose. How has he lived so long without one?
It was still very unsettling to her, but she felt that with time its appearance might become commonplace. No, never commonplace. She took a deep breath and put a hand out, her fingers very lightly caressing one misshapen cheek. The skin felt dry and papery. She looked at him a moment longer, then followed her fingers with a tentative kiss to the mottled flesh. She quickly drew back as his eyelids fluttered, but he remained asleep, his breathing already becoming quieter.
She sat beside the bed watching him while he slept fitfully. He was much thinner- almost dangerously so. His clothing was rumpled and creased, looking slept in, and she wondered how a man usually so immaculate could neglect himself in the way he had. Yeah, don't bother to wash your hair or change your clothes for days, and you'll look just about the same, kiddo. Trust me.
She wrung the cloth out many times over the next forty-five minutes, placing it on his forehead and sitting quietly, silently willing him to recover, until she heard voices in the front of the house.
Christine was torn. Erik would not want his face uncovered in front of others, but his breathing had improved a lot, so she kept it off. She got up and went out to meet Mr. Prideux. Two men stood by the front door, one holding a black satchel. A thin, curly haired man in his early thirties, gave her a polite smile and stepped forward with his hand out.
"Mademoiselle Daae? I am Bernard Prideux and this is Dr. Maurice Bonnet. Do not worry, the doctor will look after Monsieur Reauchard."
She smiled hesitantly and shook hands with Monsieur Prideux, then looked at the doctor. "I have to tell you that his breathing was harsh, so I...I removed his mask. Was that all right?"
The men looked at her in surprise, and Dr. Bonnet reassured her. "Why, yes. That was the correct thing to do." Bernard was amazed that the woman was able to stand the sight of Erik's face. He could still be disturbed by it on the rare occasions it had been revealed to him.
The middle-aged, portly doctor smiled politely. "We can manage now, if you please. Kindly wait out here until I've made my examination."
She almost refused, but found herself agreeing and sat down on the couch to wait. Ten minutes later, Dr. Bonnet came out of Erik's room and approached her.
"His thigh is abscessed, mademoiselle. The bullet was extracted, but some small pieces of metal were left behind. The wound needs to be reopened, drained and the slivers removed."
"Will he be all right? How...how can you treat him in his bedroom?"
The doctor shook his head. "Not his bedroom. The room at the end of the hall is set up for that. Monsieur Reauchard has required my services before. Bernard will help me get him ready."
He shrugged. "He's a strong man, no doubt, but at the moment he's malnourished and sick from the thigh wound. He has a fever, but that will come down once the abscess is drained and he's begun on a regimen of antibiotics. Recovery will take a while, but with care and regular meals he will get better."
"But shouldn't he be in a hospital?"
The doctor looked at her impatiently. "You will have to ask Monsieur Reauchard about that, Mademoiselle Daae. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to proceed."
She took up her place on the couch once again, hands twisting nervously in her lap. Tired, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Thoughts chased each other and pinwheeled round and round in her mind, until her thoughts darkened and she got restlessly to her feet. What if he gets worse? No, she castigated herself- he will be fine. He will be fine. She repeated it over and over, until it became her mantra. Haven't you ever heard of positive thinking? Well, do it now.
She wandered into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee, Bernard eventually joining her. She stood at the counter, stirring powdered creamer into her cup. "Monsieur, um...you said that this has happened before..."
"Oui. Please, call me Bernard. Erik will not go into a hospital." He shrugged and took a sip from his mug. "I'm sure you know the reason why, and so the hospital must come to him. Believe me, mademoiselle, Dr. Bonnet is very professional and takes every precaution with his patient."
She set her cup down and yawned tiredly. "Erik told me once that he had surgery on his face; he must have been in a hospital then."
"Yes, twelve years ago it was. He admitted himself into a private hospital about two hours from Paris. The surgeons were well known and very skilled, but Erik's uh, unique looks, caused them much curiosity. He wasn't a very good candidate for the reconstruction required, but they proceeded anyway. They..."
He stopped and took another sip of his coffee, then fiddled with his spoon.
"Go on. Say it. I'm not leaving. No matter what."
Bernard sighed and lowered his voice. "I don't think he would want you to know this...
"The doctors. His surgeons wanted to study him. As if he were a rare bug under glass, especially his eyes and the way they shine in the dark."
She was horrified. "He went to them for help and that's what they did to him? In my country they wouldn't have dared. And if they persisted, they would have been smacked with a law suit!"
"They wouldn't have pursued it for very long, I'm sure, but they did try to coerce him. As far as litigation was concerned, Erik could have done the same thing, but his only wish was to leave that place." He looked into his empty coffee cup. "He nearly tore apart his room and injured a male nurse trying to restrain him. They approached him earlier that day about examining him in-depth. I had only worked for him a year; he was quite intimidating then..."
He smiled wryly, "As he still is, but he had me get him discharged that very day, and I found Dr. Bonnet for him a few weeks later. The one surgery performed, did not go well. He developed an infection. He was disgusted by the whole ordeal, so the doctor sees to him here on the occasions his services have been required."
Christine felt sadness and an impotent anger that he was treated so poorly. "So that's why he keeps that room- my poor Erik," she whispered.
"It is provident that you are here, mademoiselle. You will be good for him, I think. Don't worry. Dr. Bonnet takes excellent care of him. He needed help once for a stab wound he received, and the doctor treated him then also. He is well paid for his services and his silence."
He grinned disarmingly. "It's really not so very bad. I sometimes think one picks up more germs in hospitals than in their own home."
She had joined him at the table and shook her head at that. "Not everything can be handled outside of a hospital though, Bernard. And it's Christine." She looked up and smiled weakly. "I came all this way to see him and I'm just glad now that I did. I never expected to find him like this."
"I had no idea his leg was so bad. He never let on that he had been shot. Do you know what happened?"
She regarded him silently for only a moment, and decided that it was up to Erik to tell Bernard anything. "No, I can't say. Perhaps you can ask him once he's feeling better." She drank the last of her coffee and sighed. "I hope that's soon."
"It will be. He has you here now." He paused a moment debating, then said, "He loves you very much, Christine. This I know."
"We were only just getting to know each other when he..." Her head snapped up at his words. "What?"
Bernard shrugged. "He loves you very much."
"Did he tell you that? When?"
He looked at the ceiling in thought. "It was about two months ago. And no, he never actually said the words, but his feelings for you were very plain to me. In fact, he nearly came to you about then."
"What do you mean?" she said, startled.
"Just that. He was packing to leave, and changed his mind. He had been back in Paris a few weeks. He was very distressed that day, and told me you wouldn't want to see him."
This upset her. "Wouldn't want to see him?" She snorted. "That's definitely not true! I admit that I was angry with him when he left town the way he did, but..." She stopped, not sure if she should reveal anything more to this man. Her feelings for Erik should be kept for- well, for Erik. She wanted to hear the word love come from his lips.
She straightened up and looked at her watch. "I'll be getting my things from the hotel later today, once I know he's okay. He's going to need someone to take care of him."
"He will be fine, you'll see." He paused, then said firmly. "Everything I have just told you is confidential and should never get back to him. He would be very angry with me. He would not want you to know any of this. It would shame him in your eyes."
"Of course. You can trust me."
He nodded and left her.
Nearly two hours passed; time she spent cleaning the kitchen- something Erik hadn't bothered doing for a while. She found a trash bag and filled it, a large portion of it wine and scotch bottles. Heh, no beer bottles anyway. At least he was a little discriminating in his choices. Merlot and Glenlivet- top of the line for my man.
She couldn't sit still, but was beginning to drag, when the doctor entered the living room shrugging on his coat and she approached him anxiously.
"He's resting quietly now, which is good; along with the bullet wound, he's suffering from exhaustion. He'll need to take things very slow for a while. I removed some metal slivers from the wound and allowed it to drain. I've given him a shot for the pain and started him on antibiotics. With care, he will do well enough."
Christine felt weak with relief.
"He needs someone to stay with him, Mademoiselle Daae. Can you?"
"Yes. Whatever it takes to get him well again. May I...can I see him now?"
The doctor nodded and turned to speak with Bernard, who had just come out of the room at the end of the hall.
She tip-toed into Erik's room and sat in the chair beside his bed watching him for a while.
He was asleep, the shadowed deep-set sockets surrounding eyes tightly shut, his lashes dark against the pallid skin. He was resting easier now, which was a huge weight off of her mind. But he was so still, she again placed her hand over his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart and she immediately relaxed. After placing a light kiss on his mouth, she walked out to find the two men conferring.
It was decided that Dr. Bonnet would stay with Erik, while Bernard took Christine back to the hotel to gather her things and check out of her room. She was still in her black dress, and desperately wanted a shower and change of clothes. They left Erik's home, but traveled out a different way, Bernard explaining that they were leaving by the rue Scribe exit.
They walked steadily upward, the way lit by cleverly concealed low voltage lamps. They chatted on the way, Bernard telling Christine about his long association with Erik without giving much detail, and stories of his five children.
She gave him some of her background and he was pleasantly surprised at her hometown.
"Oh mon Dieu, Christine!" he laughed. "My father was there ten years ago! He was at one time, a very dedicated reenactor. He wore the uniform of a regiment from the state of Virginia. He is a serious student of the American Civil War."
This got them started on a whole new topic, and by the time they reached the street level, they were well on the way to being friends. Before long, they walked up to a set of antique iron doors set into the foundation of the opera house. Bernard unlocked the door on the right and led her out into the early morning darkness, the air smelling fresh and clean after the dank underground.
They walked to his car parked on the corner, and he drove her to the hotel where she quickly showered, and changed into a pair of jeans and a pullover sweater. Feeling more awake, she gathered her clothes together, checked out of her room and joined Bernard in the lobby.
"Your wife must be very understanding, Bernard. You've been out half the night."
"She understands the nature of the work I do for Erik. Besides, he's not often in Paris. He's been known to travel quite a bit, which makes Celine very happy," he said dryly.
Christine heard something negative in his voice. "Uh, your wife doesn't like Erik very much, does she?"
"Non, she's afraid of him, I think."
She nodded and changed the subject, instead asking him to stop at a market for some things, where they quickly gathered the groceries she needed. She took stock of Erik's kitchen earlier, and found he was out of almost everything. From the number of cans which had littered the counter, it would seem soup was mainly what he'd been eating- for months. Well, guess what's on the menu for today, babe? Yep. Soup again.
By the time they arrived back at the opera house, they were both loaded down with bags, plus her luggage. Bernard opened the front door and immediately came upon a flustered Dr. Bonnet. She dropped her bags in the entry and started toward Erik's bedroom, where she could hear the sound of breakage and her name being shouted in a frantic voice.
The doctor, rattled by his patient's overwrought behavior, followed close behind her. "He woke up mam'selle, and became agitated when you weren't there. I tried to tell him your absence was only temporary, but he wouldn't listen."
Christine didn't slow down until she reached his room. He was leaning heavily on the dresser, pain evident by the tightness around his mouth, mask once again back in place. The two men had dressed Erik in a pair of black pajamas, the left pajama leg slit to just above his pale and bony knee, and a neat, white bandage secured there. The few items that had been on the top of the dresser were now on the floor, a handsome cloisonne lamp in pieces.
She hurried over to him, and put her arm around his waist, chiding him gently. "Back to bed for you, monsieur. What are you doing out of it anyway?"
He shook his head, and put his arms around her gratefully. Leaning down, he pressed his face into her neck, sighing tiredly. "You were gone. You promised me you wouldn't leave! Y-You promised! Oh, Christine," he moaned, "I-I was afraid you wouldn't come back..." He held on to her tightly.
Bernard and the doctor were standing in the doorway, and she shook her head at them, indicating for them to stay away. She slowly led him back to the bed, all the while murmuring soothing words. She felt guilty having promised him she wouldn't leave, and had done just that. She settled the bedclothes over him, taking special care of his injured leg.
She sat down in the chair, and took his hand, and he gripped hers tightly. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry I put you through that, but I needed my things from the hotel." She squeezed his fingers lightly and chuckled. "You got yourself a house guest for a long time. I'm going to eat all your food, use all your towels, and make a huge pest of myself, but I'm staying right here until you're healthy again." Christine smoothed his hair back and smiled. "I came thousands of miles to find you. Why would I leave now?" She leaned down and lightly kissed his mouth. "Hey," she said softly, "I'm here for the grand tour of Paris, and you're going to give it to me. Okay?"
He nodded wearily and closed his eyes, his grip gradually loosening and going limp in her grasp. She watched him for a while until his breathing deepened and she knew he was asleep. She got up quietly and went out to the living room, where Bernard was waiting for her.
"The doctor left instructions for his care. He'll be back later today to check on him and change the dressing. He said to phone if he gets any worse. Oh, and I put the food away and your luggage is in the other bedroom."
He regarded her quietly for a moment. "Are you going to be all right alone here with him?"
She nodded and smiled, feeling a little worn around the edges. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."
Christine thanked Bernard, and promised to call if she needed anything, and saw him out. She went back to Erik's room and cleaned up the things he'd knocked on the floor, then took her seat beside the bed. She pulled the blankets up to his chin and tucked them close to his rail-thin body. Then she took his hand in both of hers, threading their fingers together, content just to be with him once more. He loves me...he loves me not...he loves me.