Devil Takes The Hindmost |*~* Erik & Ben: INACTIVE

[christine]

Christine was still sound asleep. Turning to one side, her big brown eyes were laid upon her husband. Though she still had thoughts about what happened the previous night when she met up with Erik again. Christine climbed out of bed and got dressed. Something comfortable. Placing a tender hand upon her husband's head she walked out of the door. Leaving a note, on the table. Christine hailed a cab and finally arrived to an abandoned theatre. It was boarded up, and she entered it.

"Hello? Erik!" she whispered. hoping no one else was in here. Christine looked at the music score, and she walked forth to the stage. It was very dark, so she felt herself around as she reached the stage. Climbing upon the steps, and she turned on the lights. Christine looked around and started humming to herself softly. Sitting upon the center stage. Her big brown eyes, turned around to make sure no one was behind her.

Thinking she heard something she almost jumped. "I...is anyone there?" she called curiously in a soft voice. Christine sighed softly and said "get a hold of yourself Christine..." she said softly. Then she pulled out the aria and looked at. There were a lot of papers in it. Christine hadn't sang anything in two years. Closing her eyes, she began humming it. The spot light was upon her head and she just viewed the aria for a bit. Unsure of what else to do when there was no one there. Christine waited to hear Erik's voice.

[phantom]

Not surprisingly, Erik had not been able to sleep. He had stayed awake the whole night after his encounter with Christine. There was no organ in his tiny apartment to play, and his only instrument, his voice, was too tired to use. Well, his voice was not tired. But he was tired. Not tired enough to sleep, unfortunately. But he was tired of being duped, being used, being deceived. He wanted to make Christine his, and every time, she evaded him. He was growing tired of it. But he could never tire of her. Did she not think that he didn’t want to move on? Oh, he had tried! Not hard enough, he supposed. He had tried to forget her. There had been a time of a few months when he had. But he could not. So he had vowed to find her. And he had. But did it even matter? She said that she loved him, but it certainly didn’t feel like it.

The whole night had been spent pacing the space of his apartment, which, of course, had not taken very long. He wondered whether he had worn holes in the floor; the apartment was small enough that he had probably gone around it millions of times during the course of the long night. It was a wonder he had not gotten dizzy. Perhaps he should become nocturnal. It was clear that there was nothing to live for during the day; it would be better for himself and he would be doing the rest of the world a favor if he just slept away the day and lived during the night, when creatures like himself would be stirring; dark, murderous creatures, who would not bother each other while they crafted their own plans. He was beginning to feel like he was bothering Christine. But in a way, she had come to him. He had found her in the theatre almost by chance (never mind the fact that he had spent years looking for her). And at this point, she was starting to bother him.

Always, always, she was rejecting his amorous advances! And why? He had grown tired of pacing his apartment, finding that it held no answers for him. So now he was pacing in the theatre, in the place where she had promised to meet him, the only place he felt like he was at home. Granted, it was not home, home. It was not the opera house. But it was as close as he could come. The only way he would truly be satisfied was if Christine was there with him. And then, he would still not be satisfied. Because she would not give herself to him. Not physically, not mentally. No, she belonged to Raoul in every way, even now. And he hated that. But there was nothing he could do about it. Here he was, waiting for her. Even though she had constantly refused him, and would surely do so again, here he was. Would he never learn? No, because he could not help himself. He had nothing else to live for. Christine was his everything. And she tortured him so cruelly, by dangling his love for her in front of him, taunting him with it but not returning it. Not entirely.

And then there she was, suddenly. He had not been expecting her to be here so early. Though anger burned within him in an instant that she had dared to come not according to plan, all the same, he was pleased that she was there. She would not be expecting him to be there yet, would she? But no, she had learned to expect the unexpected, where he was concerned. Wherever she was, he was sure to follow – even if it took two years. She seemed aware of this, because she called his name like she knew it was him. He edged back, out of sight, not wanting to be seen just yet. She fumbled around the stage while he watched, knowing he could help her find her way, waiting. His chance was missed when she turned the light on, and he could no longer take her by surprise. But then she closed her eyes. He came up behind her, and grabbed her roughly from behind, pressing into her back as he held her close with his strong arms, his lips coming close to her neck. “Yes, I am here,” he murmured, holding her tightly. He dared to press a lingering kiss to her neck, wanting to feel her reaction. “I hope you missed me. You gave me a rather cold reception last night. Not the way to treat a long-lost lover.” He paused to kiss her neck again, and then kissed his way across her collarbone, a difficult maneuver from behind. It was hard to pretend he was not affected, but he hoped she was, too. “That is, if I am your lover.” He kissed his way lower, taunting her, waiting for her answer.

[christine]

Stopping midway of her song, she just browsed the theatre. It was very large, and very gorgeous even though it was abandoned. No one hardly ever used it anyone. Christine brushed out a curl out of her face. Her hair was tied neatly in a pony tail. high and off her neck. Christine stood up and walked around the stage. Remembering what happened that previous night she was alone with Erik. Though, she was afraid he was going to abandon her and she would go back to Raoul. Even so, she loved both men. Both equally. Christine gave a sigh and looked out at the dark audience.

Rubbing her eyes lightly she was still tired. Having no idea why she even had woken up that early in the morning, she thought it would be best. Then she nearly jumped and fell off the stage when she heard erik's voice. Standing she looked around and wondered where he was. Christine didn't like the fact that he had been playing these games with her. Then she turned her back and closed her eyes as she had her body facing the dark audience. Gasping lightly she felt him. His arms around her and she didn't know what to do "You scared me" she said softly. Then she felt him tightening his grip. "Im sorry....I left you last night...Its just that everything was going so fast Erik....I...." she said a moment later. She hissed at the pain he was causing. Christine remained silent as soon as she heard him ask if he was her lover. Closing her eyes once more she whispered "Yes..You are my lover. Also my protector" she said softly. Christine then asked in a soft whisper. "Please...your hurting me...let go" she asked curiously almost in a whimper state. Christine opened her eyes to look at him. Then she thought she heard someone. Her head faced the main entrance of the theatre. No one was there. Turning back to Erik she asked "I brought the song you wanted me to sing tonight" she said softly to him. "Please could you help me sing it?" she asked curiously looking up at him. Trying to remove his hands off of hers.

((crappy but oh well it still works))

[phantom]

When Christine did not react to his kisses favorably, and instead began to push him away from her, Erik let out a hiss of anger and retreated. Again he was being pushed away! She said that he was hurting her, but how was that possible? He had been kissing her, holding her! Why would sprotest against that? She had been quite open to receiving his ministrations two years ago. As she had demonstrated last night and again today, it was clear that more things had changed than he had thought. "Fine. As you wish," he said coldly, releasing her from his grasp. It was quite clear that he was displeased with her frigidity towards him. He turned away from her sharply, wanting her to feel the pain of isolation she had put on him so many times before, but unable to leave her entirely. He could not release himself from her torture. He had thought he had power over her, but clearly, the opposite was true: she had power over him. He scowled to himself, wondering. "If I am your lover, why do you not even let me touch you?" he asked, anger and hurt mingling together in the tone of his voice.

He did not understand her at all. One moment, she was apologizing to him for having left so suddenly last night, and then she was turning away from him again. But she was not apologizing for refusing his advances; she was only apologizing for leaving. All the same he was angered. Never before had she refused him anything he had asked of her - and why should she, after all that he had done for her? Well, there had been that all-important time when she had chosen Raoul over him, presumably forever. And it seemed that even now, her choice remained the same. It would always be damned Raoul over him. Always. No matter what he did. He had taught her to sing, he had sheltered her in the opera house, he had given her all of the roles, he had sent her roses, costumes, beautiful gifts. He had given her her precious Raoul's life and her own freedom. And in return for what? A life of misery. "It is very clear to me, Madame," he hissed, an emphasis on the title to remind her that she had chosen another over him and he was hurt by that, "that you do not need me for anything." He stepped away from her, back into the shadows, and for a moment it seemed as though he was really going to leave her - but then he appeared to chance his mind. "Go on, then. Sing," he demanded, with a nod of his head.

[christine]

Christine looked up at Erik. Placing a hand upon her arm where he had grabbed her. This was not like him. Christine was somewhat afraid of him when he did that. Then he had questioned her. "I..am sorry Erik" she said softly. "I do want you to touch me its just that. Not in that particular way" she said a moment later. Her eyes studied him. Christine missed him deeply inside and wished to be with him more often than she'd like to. A light sigh escaped from him and she looked around her surroundings. They were the only two in the theatre. Or so she thought. Standing there so close to him, her eyes were locked inside of his. She could sense anger in his voice.

Her eyes winded when she heard him say that she did not need him for anything. "That's not true!" she told him in a soft voice. "I do need you. I really do. That's coming from my....." she stopped mid sentence. Closing her brown eyes, she said "coming from my heart." Her eyes remained closed for a moment no less. Opening them up again, she looked upon him. Holding the aria he gave her in her hands, she looked at the peace that she was to sing for him. It was in french. "Please don't be like this" she said softly before she began singing to him. How long she wanted to sing for him, the answer was unsuitable. Christine touched his face tenderly. Then began the song. It seemed it was supposed to be an aria for a new production. The production was called "Faust" Once again, Christine was in the lead role of Marguerite.

[phantom]

Erik scowled. What was she talking about? Their relationship, before she had left him, had been a touchy one - to put it bluntly, yes, a sensual one. Of course it had. Or did she not remember his seductive song of the night? Had she forgotten that she sang with him in his opera of Don Juan as Aminta - in a role that had been cast especially for her because it hardly took pretending? Was it possible that her skin had forgotten his burning touch, the way it felt for his arms to be around her, sliding up her hips and waist to cup her breasts or caress her collarbone and shoulders, to stroke the smooth porcelain of her face? Once, she had all but begged him to touch her, to love her. She had willingly gone with him to his lair (not that she could have refused, of course; he would have made her go, but that was rather beside the point), and had freely kissed him before she had left. She had returned to hand him her ring. As if those were not enough evidences that she should be more than willing to let him touch her, the way she had looked at him, her doe eyes filled with love and lust, well, that alone should have been quite convincing.

And yet here she was now, telling him not to touch her. He glowered. How dare she? He would do as he damn well pleased. And yet... He could not quite bring himself to defy her. She sounded so pathetic. Like he really was hurting her, for whatever reason. A sudden thought came to his despairing heart: perhaps it hurt her to be touched by him because she was plagued by guilt when he did it. She wanted him to touch her but knew that she should not let him, because she was married. It must have pained her to know that. Yes, that had to be the reason... It was the only proper explanation for her change in sentiments regarding him. (Or he would delude himself into thinking so.) Not for the first time, he wondered what their lives would have been like if she had not left him for Raoul. She would certainly not be acting so cold, so modest. No, she would be begging for him to touch her, to love her. But it was not to be. Perhaps living with foppish Raoul had made her once-passionate heart weaker somehow. God, he hoped not. How he hated that man! How he hated what he had done to Christine - to him - to their relationship!

He turned his face away from her pleas. "You would do well to act like it, then," he commented coldly. "All you do is turn away from me. Why are you so cold to me, Christine?" His angry voice broke with sorrow. "Have I done something wrong? All I have done is love you." Angered that his resolve had crumbled, he frowned again at her next words, and laughed cruelly. "Your heart! If you had one, dear Christine, or at least if you had any love in it for me, you would not treat me with such cruel indifference." She told him not to be "like this", and he could not help but wish she would take her own advice. Finally, mercifully, she ceased speaking and began to sing. Faust. An interesting choice. An opera about a man who had sold his soul. Well, Erik had all but sold his soul to be with Christine, and look how well that had panned out. He loved her, and yet he hated her. But still he loved her. How ardently he loved her! How desperately he desired her! Then he began to sing along with her. How could he not? Telling him not to sing was like telling him not to breathe. When the aria was finished, he said simply, "Your voice is not the same, Christine. It sounds untrained. Perhaps you are in need of a tutor after all." He looked at her blankly, his dull expression belying the pain and passion underneath. "Once more - this time, do not let your voice waver so much on the high notes."

[christine]

Christine looked at the aria, tears streaming down her face. Wishing she hadn't betrayed him or anything like that. Then she looked at him. "Please...i really do love you Erik.." she said softly. Whipping her eyes with her hand, looking at the tear in her eyes. "I do not mean to be so cold to you Erik. I really don't. Everything is just happening so fast" she explained. "Just give me another chance please Erik. I would love to have a relationship with you. Im not lying" she said softly to him. Then her eyes widened. What about Raoul? Christine was in another world. She had entirely forgot about Raoul, after she had said that sentence.

Sighing softly she listened to him speak. "You've done nothing wrong. Im just frightened of what's going on at this point Erik!" she said softly. Then she looked at the aria and sang once more. This time she hit all the high notes perfectly. After she was done, she looked upon Erik. Dropping the aria to the floor she went over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Please...Forgive me. I beg you. I want to be with you. Why would i have sang that aria if I didn't want to be with you Erik" she asked curiously, as she continued to have her arms around him. Her head was pressed against his back. Knowing he would be upset with her. "Please don't go. Not now with the new production on its way." She said softly still hugging him. Not letting go. Once she did she backed up. "I love you Erik.." she said a moment later. Backing up more, then she fell off the edge of the stage. Her hand tried to reach for his but it didn't catch there in time.

Hitting the floor, Christine almost curled up. Her head was hurt, then she opened her eyes once more. "Erik..." she said weakly. Her arm was hurt and she saw a little bit of blood. "What happened?" she asked herself. Remaining on the floor, she sat up, and looked around. "Erik...Help me.." she said softly a moment later. Wondering where he went. Hoping he didn't leave her.

[phantom]

Fast? Fast?! He had waited two damn years to see her! And now she accused him of taking things too fast! She had known him for so many years - he had tutored her, held her, loved her! And she had loved him nack; she had kissed him, and given him a ring to prove it! Of course Erik was seething with indignance, but he forced himself to calm down so he could listen to her words. There would be no point in scaring her off now, he supposed, since he had worked so hard to find her. So he painstakingly regained his composure while she apologized. There, that was more like it. But would she keep her word this time? She had before said that she loved him, and he was no longer certain if he should believe it. He didn't know if he could believe anything she said. It was horrifyingly ironic, how once, she had to blindly trust him, and now she expected him to do the same for her.

He was hesitant to believe her, when she said that she loved him and wanted to have a relationship with him. After all, it had seemed that way before. But then it had not. Now, however, he could not doubt her sincerity. He only wondered why her eyes widened when she told him that she wanted to have a relationship with him. Perhaps she doubted herself. Or maybe she did not realize the implications of her words. Erik certainly did. He wanted to take her then and there, and really, nothing was stopping him from doing so, except for Christine's pleading eyes. There were many times he could have ravished her, and yet he never had. How he wanted to! But he had not. She was clearly afraid of him - but surely Raoul could not satisfy her; he could not make love with the passion and power Erik could, could he? Some day, he would show her. But not today. When she sang the aria then, it was absolute perfection. He listened and closed his eyes in pleasure. "Brava, brava, bravisima," he sang softly, entranced by her beautiful voice. "You are already getting better." He felt her hug him and he relaxed into her embrace, where she held him for a long time. "Of course I forgive you," he whispered. "Christine, I love you."

And suddenly, she was no longer there. The only evidence of her absence was a horrible thunk. He turned to catch her, but too late. "Christine!" he shouted, whirling around at the sound of her weak voice. He leapt from the stage and found her laying there. "Oh God, Christine," he moaned, looking at her fearfully. She was clearly disoriented, and she was bleeding. At least she was conscious. She was reaching for her and he was sorely tempted to take her into his arms and carry her off over his shoulder to get medical attention (and he was certainly strong enough to have done it), but he was afraid to move her if her head was hurt. Wasn't it bad to move someone if they had a concussion? She sat up and he knelt beside her to steady her. Was this his fault? Had he hurt her? He knew people thought he was a monster, and he was - but if he ever hurt Christine, he could never forgive himself. "You fell, my dear," he murmured, his voice choked with worry. "Yes, I will help you. Of course I will help you." With expert fingers, he began to gently probe her body, checking for inflammation and wounds. "Where does it hurt?" Guilt plagued him - this was all his fault. He should have been there to catch her. He was certain now, if he had not been before, that he was going to Hell, to be separated from his angel for eternity. "Oh, Christine," he whispered.

[benvolio]

Ben was, at this juncture, what he liked to refer to as "navigationally challenged." In plainer terms: he was lost.

He had never been in this theatre before, and would probably never have done so if Carlotta hadn't asked him to find her bag. She had left it in the dressing room, and absolutely had to have it, as she had put it.

Why she couldn't go find it herself, Ben still wasn't clear on. All he knew was that his sister could be scary when she didn't get her way, and for some reason, she didn't want to go back to the theatre today. He had a sneaking suspicion that she might have lost her temper with someone, and was trying to save face long enough for people to forget about it.

So, Ben found himself wandering around backstage. He eventually found the bag in question- a horrible pink affair covered in steel-blue roses- and gingerly slung it over his shoulder. Now, he only had to pray that nobody saw him with it. Ben was the sort of person who was easily embarrassed- odd, considering that his best friends publicly embarrassed both him and themselves on a daily basis.

Satisfied in achieving the purpose of his errand, he left the dressing room. Somehow, he managed to leave through the wrong door, and found himself in a dimly lit hallway. As the door clicked shut behind him, Ben realize with a flop of his stomach that it had locked itself. Resigning himself to the inevitable, he walked along the hallway. He tried the doors as he went, but they were all locked. Just as he began to work himself up into a panic, he heard singing from up ahead. It was muffled by a closed door, but even so Ben couldn't mistake the purity and beauty of the the sound. He walked along, drawing closer, until he saw a door that was slightly open. Slipping through, Ben found himself in the main theatre, at one of the side exits. Relief flooded through him. He knew where he was, now!

Those thoughts soon left him though, as he stood transfixed in the shadows. There was a young woman on the stage, singing so beautifully as to make him lose all other thoughts. When she stopped after what seemed like eons to Ben, he realized that this must be a music lesson, as a man he hadn't noticed before began to critique the girl's singing. However, he quickly blushed and backed away, hoping the pair hadn't seen him. He felt like he was spying on their private conversation.

However, when he saw the girl topple over the side of the stage, his doctor's instincts kicked in and he rushed forward. He reached the pair quickly and said, the words tumbling out of his mouth, "I'm sorry to intrude- I saw her fall- I'm in medicine- can I help?" He turned to look at the girl, who's eyes looked worryingly out of focus. He held up three fingers, "How many fingers do you see?"

((Sorry; I know it's bad, but it was all I could come up with))

[christine]

A light smirk came from her as she finished the aria. Christine turned her head up and looked upon him. Once she embraced him from behind, she just relaxed her porcelain face upon his back. It felt nice that they weren't fighting as much as before. Christine looked down at the ground for a moment, then she heard him speak. "Thank you Erik. Sorry if I started out shaky. You must know that it was been two years since I sang a song" she said softly behind him.

Christine then backed away from him. Not realizing the score was scattered across the floor behind her, Christine fell and hurt herself. Laying on the floor, she heard Erik's voice. Though everything went black. All she could hear was his voice. Worried for her. Christine then opened up her eyes mostly everything was blurry. Her arm was hurt and it was bleeding a bit. Christine turned to Erik as they sat on the stage now.

Her head then was rested on his chest. Christine then looked at a young man who had hopped upon the stage. He too, was pretty worried for her. Christine told him "Three. Its just that my head hurts pretty bad" she said leaning against Erik. "Im sorry, what is your name sir?" she asked curiously looking at the young man who had helped them. Her eyes were better in focus for a moment. "Erik?" she called curiously. Wondering where he was. Christine looked around for a moment and noticed he was behind her. Helping her with support. Christine found him and said "How...how did I fall?" she asked curiously. Then she placed another hand upon her forehead. It began hurting again.

[phantom]

The question rose in Erik’s mind instantly: why had Christine not sung in two years? It seemed a waste. Perhaps her gift had not been God-given (it was difficult for Erik to believe in God when he had been told his whole life that he was the Devil’s child), but he had worked very hard to train it. Perhaps he should have felt gratified that she would not sing for anyone else but him. And indeed he did. Was he selfish? Of course. But he believed he was allowed to be. After all, everything else had been taken from him. The simple fact that Christine sang only for him – as she well should, since he was the one who had trained her voice into its beauty in the first place – should have been something that he was allowed to keep. Her voice, if not the rest of her, belonged solely to him. That was how it should have been. So he was satisfied. At least she was finally giving him the thanks and credit that he deserved. His lips momentarily curved into a self-satisfied smile.

But the expression left his face almost as quickly once she had fallen. Once again he thought how very wrong she was to think that things were moving too fast. The only thing that happened too fast was that she slipped from his grasp. Afterwards everything seemed to happen in slow motion compared with his racing heart. She fell from the stage and he watched her for what seemed an eternity, falling, falling. It was pure torture, knowing that he could have caught her but had failed to do so. He wanted to close his eyes and turn away from the horrible sight but he was somehow frozen in horror. Once she had fallen he was at her side as fast as he could get there, kneeling by her, the sheets of music forgotten altogether; his only focus was her. It always had been, really. For a moment he sat with her quietly, the silence in the room almost deafening, and cruelly conflicting with the roar of guilt in his heart that hurt his head as badly as Christine’s.

Then suddenly there was another voice. He turned quickly to make out the intruder, his eyes instantly narrowing into a suspicious glare. Who was this insolent boy, barging in on their practice? He was only slightly reassured by the mention that he was in medicine. “I don’t know, can you help?” Erik parroted back, in a voice that would have sounded more mocking if it had not been so filled with worry and anxiety. Christine said his name weakly and he leaned in closer to her from behind, placing a hand lightly on her curls, taking care not to get too close to the place where she had struck her head because he was sure it would hurt. “I’m here, my dear,” he said reassuringly, forgetting for a moment that they were in the company of someone else that would not need to hear his endearments for her. “I don’t know how you fell,” he admitted, plagued with guilt. “It only matters that you will get better from here.” His words held a bit more force in them than was necessary – she had better get well! – as he shot a look at the other man.

[benvolio]

Ben raised an eyebrow. The man in the mask certainly got to the point quickly enough. Not that Ben could really blame him; he still couldn't be quite sure what his relationship to the girl was, but from the tender way he looked down at her now, he was sure he was at least very close to her, and from their conversation, at least he was in love. The woman, Ben wasn't sure about.

"I think I can, at any rate." He gently ran a hand down the girl's face, lifting up her hair to check for bleeding. He found a nasty cut on the back of her head, and it looked like she would have some equally nasty bruising come morning. Another cut on her arm was bleeding profusely; he pulled a bag of cotton pads out of his bag, in doing so setting Carlotta's on the floor behind him. This, he applied to her arm, holding it with just enough pressure to hopefully lessen the bleeding for now. The cut would have to be cleaned, but for now that wasn't the point. He motioned for the other man to take over on her arm, and he turned to cleaning up her head.

"Is your vision blurry at all? Can you tell me today's date?" he asked the girl. He couldn't tell just yet if she had a concussion, but he certainly wasn't going to rule out the possibility just yet. Turning his attention back to the man, he asked, "I don't suppose there's an ice machine somewhere nearby? An ice pack would help stop the swelling, and if she has a concussion it would help ease that too." He wiped a bit of sweat off his forehead, "Or barring that, just a cloth soaked in cold water would do."

He added, "Of course, it would be wise to call for an ambulance, too. I don't want to risk moving her until we can be sure it won't cause greater injury."

((OOC: Hooray for WikiHow, lol.))

[christine]

Christine looked at the man in front of her. He seemed to be of a young doctor of some sort. Her eyes though darted from him, up to Erik. Her head was rested upon him and she didn't want to let go of him. He listened to the man speak with Erik for a moment. "Erik..." she said softly. "Its okay, calm down. He's only here to help me" she said in a gentle voice. Christine returned her gaze to the young doctor, who was trying his best to help her.

Then he asked if her vision was blurry at all. Shaking her head lightly she said "Its perfectly fine" she said softly. Christine then tried to remember what the date was. "May fourteenth" she said softly to to him. A light smile came to her, and she looked upon him gently. Christine remained silent as he spoke to Erik.

Her eyes widened lightly as she heard the word ambulance. "It was just a mere fall" she told the boy suddenly. Almost rising. "I do not need an ambulance. I'm perfectly fine. Just my head is hurting is all!" she said softly. Trying not to get mad at him. Even though he was only helping her. Christine then relaxed a bit resting herself upon Erik. Wondering what he was going to think about this issue that was going on.

[phantom]

A muscle in Erik’s jaw jumped as he watched this other man caress his beloved. It was like watching her with Raoul all over again! As if he had not had to imagine them together in his mind enough the last few years, and most intensely last night, just after she had left him to return to her home. She had said that her husband was not there, but still – rational thought did little to comfort a madman in love. Possessively, he tightened his grip on Christine, reminding her of his presence as well as making a note to this doctor fellow. He scowled when the boy said that he thought he could help… He was a damn doctor, wasn’t he? He was supposed to do things, not just think he could do them. But he said nothing. He recognized, however resentfully, that this was not his place. He hated the fact that he could not help Christine, the girl for whom he had done everything once. Though he found himself despising the man, at least the “doctor” let him have a small part, by tending to Christine’s arm.

He found the boy to be annoyingly patronizing, and it was a struggle for him not to say anything that he would regret. No, of course he would not regret antagonizing the boy – that would probably be rather entertaining, if nothing else. But he knew that Christine was already enough pain (no matter how bravely she denied it), and he did not want to cause any more trouble by riling up a fight with this boy. It wouldn’t be fair, really, for him to muscle up the little weakling. When Erik looked at him, he could only see another little fop, and saw him as if he was seeing Raoul again. This boy, at least, had not been foolish enough to make any obvious advances on Christine like Raoul had. But still, Erik was watching him carefully. With narrowed eyes, he observed the attentions the boy was giving Christine, running his hand down her face as Erik had so many times. That should be my hand, he thought angrily, and found little comfort in the fact that the touching was for medical purposes. They didn’t even know this man was a real doctor.

He glowered when asked about the availability of ice. Another reason why he was useless. “I don’t know,” he said, trying to keep his tone neutral, but the words came out sounding rather like a growl. He was not exactly angry at the boy (all right, he was, a little bit, even for irrational reasons), but he was certainly angry at himself. He felt entirely useless, and he hated it. He was supposed to be taking care of Christine! He had thought that he could, but apparently, he could not. He was tempted to ask if ice was even necessary, but that might sound like he didn’t care about Christine – and, of course, he did, more than he cared for his own life. When it came to calling an ambulance, though, fear immediately rose in his heart. “An ambulance?” he repeated, hating how nervous he felt. “I must go with her.” It was not a question but a statement – he would accompany her. He was not surprised by Christine’s insistence that she did not need one, and he looked down at her where she lay against him. Knowing she was going to try to get up, and suspecting that it would not be good for her to do so, with one hand he gently kept her down against him. “That is not a good idea,” he cautioned her. Looking at the man warily, he said, “Perhaps it would be best to check anyway. I will not leave your side.” He swept her hair back from her face and looked down into her dark eyes adoringly.