a/n Holy crap.. its been like… two yeas from the last time I updated this story. As most of you know this story is on hold due to some very strange and sever writers block for this story. I literally had to write it paragraph by paragraph this whole time. Sometimes it was months between sparks of muse. Hopefully the story will flow a bit more. So sorry for all my loyal reviewers who've waited so long. I wouldn't be surprised if you guys aren't around anymore…it's been that long…Wow.
Now on to the story. i don't own POTO
Erik jerked back, pulling the needle free from Christine's flesh before she could move and snap the delicate metal from the syringe. He quickly adverted his eyes as the girl flipped over and covered herself with her shift before scrambling to grab the bed covers.
"Why didn't you tell me you were going to poke me there?!" Christine was blushing several shades of red that traveled not only to her face, but down her arms as well.
"I...I don't know." Erik stuttered, mortified to feel heat rising to his face. Why didn't he warn Christine about the delicate area he would be injecting her? Why did he even have to explain himself to her? Why was he feeling embarrassed? This was his Christine, the child he watched grow up.
"You don't know?!" the girl screeched after him as he turned his back to her.
'It wasn't like I looked.' But he had looked… and felt instant shame for doing so. Christine needed to trust him; he shouldn't do anything to betray her in any way. Erik cursed himself, nearly sweeping the numerous bottles and bags of herbs to the ground. But he held his anger back, now was not the time for him to lose his temper. Not when Christine was finally starting to accept her situation with him, and not when her condition was so delicate. But his tempter got the better of him, and it was all he could do to not lose control and frighten the girl.
There was nothing Erik could do; what was done was done. Now all he could do was wait and hope that the medicine worked and Christine got better. Never mind where the injection site had been. It was the best place for such treatment, 'and I'm a professional first and foremost damn it!' This was a matter of life and death, no use lollygagging just because he had certain feelings for the girl.
Erik set his jaw stubbornly and turned back to Christine. He fumbled with the syringe, giving him something to look at as he tried to keep himself controlled. "Do you want to live or die?" He suddenly snapped, and bit his tongue as he said the words. There was no reason for him to be so curt with the girl. He unscrewed the metal and glass syringe and gently dropped them in the hot water in the large bowl.
Christine blinked in surprise at the cruel edge his voice held. All the anger seemed to drain away from her. He had never spoken to her in such a way before. Her thoughts flashed back to their time together in the Opera, when he was her teacher. She would never dare to even think of speaking to him in such a way. "I…I want to live." She said gently.
Erik's blue eyes glanced over at her but he kept his attention on his work. "Do not whine about the injection site." What was wrong with him? He shouldn't punish Christine for something she obviously didn't understand. She was just surprised.
Christine nodded, even though the masked man wasn't looking at her anymore. Perhaps she had overreacted. Yes he was her kidnapper, but she had gotten use to being treated so gently. So kindly. What he did was nothing any other doctor wouldn't have done. Why was she so upset?
'Is it because it was Erik who did it?'
Erik had seen her in more desperate situations, why had this bothered her so? Now that he was a man, and not the Angel of Music she had thought him to be as a child. Of course it was worth the humiliation if it meant saving her life. "I'm sorry." She whispered again, lowering her brown eyes to the bed and relaxing back under the covers. The sting on her bottom had already faded away and Christine could feel the strange heat the medicine was causing as it slowly seeped into her body.
Erik paused in his work and watched approvingly as Christine relaxed. His emotions still raged on, but with discipline only Erik could muster, he swallowed them back and hid them well. The tension and anger flowed out of his body, leaving him feeling strangely exhausted. He hid this strange happening from Christine by meddling with the twice cleaned needle. He spent many minutes drying each piece and meticulously packing it away in its' case.
"Sometimes,….sometimes these things are not pleasant." Erik started; his eyes glued to his hands on the case. He felt Christine's eyes on him as he spoke. "But dying of this disease is much worse." His mind shot back to the Opera house with its many bodies in various stages of decay. Erik's face lost all its harsh tones behind the mask as he turned to Christine, snapping the case's clasps into place. "There isn't much more I can do now." The troubled, yet thoughtful voice vanished and turned into the professional voice Christine was use to. "All I can do is try to keep you comfortable. The best thing you can do for yourself Christine is to get some rest."
'Not much more I can do.' The idea was fighting to him. Erik was so used to having his way, every time, no mater what. But with this plague, nothing was going the way he wanted. He couldn't control the plague. It left him feeling like a helpless bystander. And when it came to Christine, that was unacceptable.
"I will try my best," Erik paused, his blue eyes turned away, "to get you better Christine. I…I promise." He voice almost cracked, but he held his emotion well. When he turned back to the girl, he saw that she had fallen asleep. When she fell asleep, he had no clue, but he was happy that she was at least resting.
'Rest well my Angel.'
… . .
Christine made herself open her eyes. They felt like lead. As if they were glued shut. But she forced herself to open her eyes. She had drifted in and out of sleep, not knowing really what time it was or what was a dream and what was real. Her vision was blurry at first, foggy and unfocused. Then slowly, Christine was able to blink the sleep from her eyes. Weak sunlight poured from the stain glass window. Was it late in the afternoon or early in the morning? Christine had no clue. Her big brown eyes swung around the room, looking for Erik. But he wasn't there.
Christine couldn't help feel a small jab of disappointment. Part of her hoped that he would be watching over her when she woke up. A part of her was glad that he wasn't there. She was still mortified about her behavior with him before she succumbed to the medicine he gave her. It was also a relief to have a few moments without him fussing over her. Carefully, Christine sat up; the room didn't tilt, not even when she turned to put her feet on the floor. Slowly, she put weight on her legs, holding tightly to the bed as she did so. But surprisingly she didn't feel any pain. Her legs were a bit weak but didn't ache. She took one step and then another, each stronger and more sure than the last. Christine straightened up and took her hands from the bed.
Her stomach turned a little, but it was a feeling of hunger, not illness that made it cramp. Slowly she walked to the small window and rested her forehead against the lightly colored glass. The sun's position in the sky told her that it was late in the afternoon. She frowned slightly. Seemed she didn't sleep as long as she thought she would. Perhaps Erik had misjudged the dose. But the idea that the masked man would make such a mistake seemed ridiculous to Christine. He was strict with himself and extremely obsessed with everything being perfect. The young woman sighed, her warm breathed fogged on the cool glass. At the moment he was settling for something less than perfect… something that was dying. Talk about adding salt to the wounds.
Christine gazed out at the small groups of cottages nestled in the trees. Everything glowed warmly in the late afternoon sun. The girl sighed again. She had always thought she was special. After all…she was being taught by the angle of music. She was quickly inching her way up the ranks of the Opera house and had just started to gain the notice of the new managers.
Then the plague hit.
Christine couldn't fool herself anymore, she was sure there was no Opera left. Her angel of music turned out to be a man, and extraordinary man, yes…but a man nonetheless. And then she had to catch the plague as well.
Yes, she was very special. Special indeed.
"Frowning does not become one with such beauty." A rumbling low voice said behind her.
"Erik!" Christine jerked away from the window and turned to find him leaning against the doorframe of her room. Her stomach flip-flopped again at the sight of him. His clothes were slightly wrinkled, his shirt un-tucked and half open, his hair was out of place again. He looked like he just woke up. And he looked like he slept in his clothes…he looked good.
He let her rake him with her eyes. Feeling a perverse warmth in his middle as her innocent eyes swept over his form…twice. At least that depressed frown of hers had disappeared. He was afraid that he had embarrassed her too much for her to forgive him right away. But that didn't seem the case as Erik watched as she relaxed. "What are you frowning about? Are you feeling alright?" he pushed away from the doorway and took three slow steps into the room.
The slight frown returned as Christine gazed out the window. She couldn't look at him. The flipping in her stomach was getting worse now and she felt the heat leap when he stepped closer. He was still feet away but Christine swore she could feel the heat of him rolling off his body.
"I was just thinking how surprising it was that I didn't sleep for very long." She answered carefully, happy to find that her voice didn't wobble. She watched as he arched an eyebrow. He stepped closer until he was right beside her. Erik placed a hand on the wall by the window. Now Christine could defiantly feel the heat of his body. It warmed her to just stand next to him. She blushed slightly; feeling the blood rush to her cheeks and making them tingle.
Christine was so pale that the sudden flood of a blush glowed in stark contrast against her sallow skin. Erik watched in almost utter fascination as the blood rushed to her cheeks and flooded the column of her neck. He had seen people blush before, but seeing such life within Christine elated him. More so because he was the one that caused it. "Christine, you've slept over twenty-four hours. It is not late afternoon of the same day you fell asleep. It is the late afternoon of the next day."
The girl took a surprise step away from the window. "What?" No wonder she was starving. Christine looked down at her hands before returning her mahogany gaze back to Erik. "Do you think the medicine worked?"
Erik cleared his throat. Truth be told he was terrified by the amount of time Christine slept. At first he feared she had somehow slipped into a coma. Seeing her up and out of bed on her own put him at ease. "It's too early to tell, but you seem to be improving." He took a step closer and reached out. He placed two fingers under her chin and tipped her head upward. "Your eyes are clear, and there seems to be color returning to your skin."
Christine smiled hesitantly. Sure the color was returning, she could feel the heat of her blush traveling down her arms as she gazed into Erik's deep blue eyes. She tried to ignore the pale mask that hugged half his face. She tried to look past it to the eyes that gazed down at her. Without thinking, Christine felt her hand travel upward. Erik stood as still as a statue his eyes rooted to hers. Just as her fingertips touched the edged of the smooth white mask his hand shot up and crushed her fingers in his grasp.
"No." He said softly. "No Christine."
The girl blinked and stepped away from her captor. Erik kept his grip on her fingers. "I-I'm sorry." She started, but just then, the silence around them was broken by a scream outside.
"It's the plague! He brought it to us!"
A/n damn my cliff hangers!! Why must I end the chapter with cliffies!?! I have no idea when I can update next. The next chapter is already half done but my muse if a fickle thing. Maybe posting this will spark it back to life. Pray for me. Thanks for reading, and as always, reviews are loved.