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Paris' Song	By : Hilary Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 7620 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
A/N:Sorry about the cliffhanger in the last chapter. I didn't even realize that it was there. I just copy and paste this story from Word and since the story is finished on Word and I know what happens (sorry but you'll just have to wait to find out) I don't even think about when cliffhangers are around. So, to make up for it here is the next chapter. And once again, none of these characters are mine save for Paris and the doctor. The rest belong to Gaston Leroux. ^_~

The first thing Paris knew when she regained consciousness was that her whole body was screaming in pain and voices were being magnified greatly and yet the words were muffled. With a silent moan she slowly and carefully tried to open her eyes. Thankfully the room she was in was dark enough to allow her eyes to adjust to the room but bright enough for her to see that she was being watched by the managers, Madame Giry and an older man with grey hair, a mustache and twinkling blue eyes framed by a pair of spectacles.

"Ah, so you have decided to rejoin the land of the living have you?" the older man smiled.

"Monsieur le doctor, she is deaf and mute. She doesn't understand what you are saying. You have to write it down," Madame Giry spoke up softly. The doctor flushed and laughed before he pulled out a pad and pencil.

"Mademoiselle Aldress you are very lucky to be alive. I'm afraid we nearly lost you a few times. Do you remember what happened?"

Paris read the note and very carefully nodded.

"Good, then there is no problem with memory lapse. However, I'm afraid your injuries are very serious. You have a dislocated shoulder, quite a few broken ribs, and your right arm is broken as are both your legs. You have several serious cuts which had to be stitched up. I don't know if you'll ever be able to dance again, at least not the same way you did that night. I was very impressed with your talent. However, I'm afraid you will have to remain in bed for quite some time until you are completely healed. We can get you home and there you will be more comfortable. Do you know of anyone who can check in on you from time to time or even stay with you until you are well enough to move about on your own?"

Paris read the doctor's note and felt her heart twist painfully at the words. Never dance again? That was just not possible; dancing was her career, she didn't know if she could do anything else due to her predicament. Pretending to be deaf and mute did not allow many job opportunities to come knocking. She had been lucky to receive a job as a dancer. Now to learn that she may never be able to dance on stage again was just too much. Tears began to silently trickle down her cheeks as she painfully wrote with her left hand that she did have someone to take care of her. Her neighbor down the hall of her flat had just lost her baby to Scarlet Fever and was still trying to get over the loss. She would be very pleased to be able to take care of someone.

The doctor nodded after reading Paris' note. He turned to the managers and Madame Giry to speak to them. "If I could speak privately with all of you for a moment I believe there are a few things that need to be discussed about Mademoiselle Aldress' predicament."

After the four of them were out of the room Paris closed her eyes and tried to think of what to do. When she opened them again she came face to face with Erik. He stood over her, his eyes filled with pain and worry. Slowly he knelt down next to Paris and carefully took her left hand in his.

"I am so sorry, Paris. I never meant for any of this to happen to you. Christine was right; I should not have gotten you involved like this. If there is anything I can do for you don't hesitate to ask."

Paris hated having to pretend that she didn't know what Erik was saying but she didn't have to pretend that she knew he was apologizing. Giving a small smile she pointed at the notepad lying next to the bed. Erik picked it up immediately and wrote down what he had said quickly, all the while glancing nervously at the door. He had locked it but he knew the doctor and the others would not remain out in the hall for long so Erik had to move quickly.

"There is nothing to apologize for Erik. I leapt into the line of fire, so to speak, on my own. Christine wasn't going to move on her own so I had to help. I just wish you hadn't used violence to express your anger like that. Maybe you could visit me sometimes; I'd like that." Paris really wished that her right hand was not out of commission. Writing with her left hand was painful due to the recently dislocated shoulder and it took too long to form the letters.

"I can do better than that; I can take care of you the whole time. It's the least I can do after all the pain I have caused you," Erik quickly wrote.

"Oh, Erik, you don't have to do that. I don't want to take away your time for composing and the other things that you do."

"No, I'm the one who's responsible for your being in this situation. I will take care of you and that is that."

"Okay, but not on Saturdays. I already told the doctor that one of my neighbors could take care of me. He'll become suspicious if I don't give him a note or something to take over to Madame Blanche asking her to come over."

Erik read Paris' response and nodded. He could hear the doctor and the others ending their conversation so he acted quickly. He gave Paris a quick kiss on the forehead, unlocked the door, and disappeared through the mirror just as the doctor entered.

"Well, Mademoiselle Aldress all I need is your address and a note to your neighbor. Then we will get you carefully home. Monsieur Firmin had gone to get a carriage for you."

Paris read the doctor's note and as quickly as she could with her left hand she wrote down her address and handed it to the doctor. Then she wrote a note to Madame Blanche but made sure to keep the note out of the doctor's sight so that he couldn't see that she was asking Madame Blanche to only tend to Paris on Saturdays. When she finished the note she folded it up and wrote Madame Blanche's name on the front and handed it to the doctor. He smiled and slipped the note into his pocket then he filled a small cup of Laudanum for her to drink.

"This will knock you out for a short while just so you won't be in any pain while we are getting you home," the doctor wrote down when Paris looked curiously at the cup. She nodded and breathed a sigh of relief when she read his note. A few minutes later Paris was unconscious and being carefully taken out of the dressing room and out towards the awaiting carriage. No one noticed the silent black shadow following close behind.

When once again Paris came to she was in her own bed and the room was dark save for a single candle burning on her dresser. She had no idea what time it was and her curtains were drawn so she couldn't tell if it was night or day. A sound in the doorway alerted Paris that someone was in her house. Turning her head slowly towards the doorway she saw Erik enter with a tray in his hands. He smiled when he saw that she was awake.

Paris looked at him in confusion as she tried to figure out he had gotten into her house without anyone seeing him. He must have understood her confusion for he laughed and set the tray down on the bedside table to pull out a notepad and pencil.

"I came in through the open window in the living room. I waited until the doctor was gone. He left a note for Madame Blanche regarding everything she needs to do while taking care of you. I copied the list for myself so that I'll know what to do. Now, I've brought you some food, are you hungry?"

Paris nodded with a soft smile when she read the note. She was indeed quite hungry. So she sat back and Erik spoon fed her the soup he had prepared. She was rather surprised at how well Erik could cook but she guessed that since he lived alone for so long that he had to learn how or starve. When she got down all she could Erik made her swallow some more Laudanum that the doctor had said was needed for any pain she would be in. A short while later Paris fell asleep leaving Erik to sit and watch over her.

He was still rather confused as to why Paris had risked her life like that. Christine was not in the way of the falling chandelier, was she? At the angle he had been cutting the cables the chandelier should have fallen near the front of the stage, far enough away from Christine and even the musicians in the orchestra pit. However, if Paris had said that Christine was in the way then maybe his anger had clouded his mind enough that he hadn't been able to see that Christine was indeed in the line of the chandelier's fall.

Sighing he reached over and gently grasped Paris' limp hand in his own. She was the only one he felt comfortable enough with to actually touch in such a manner. Christine had always seemed so scared and distant that Erik had never felt confident enough to reach over and hold her hand. He had a feeling she would have stiffened up in fear but would have been too kind to tell him to let go. He had always had to seduce her with his voice in order to have any form of physical contact with her and even then, that contact had been brief and only used when necessary. Paris had practically pulled Erik's arms around her into the numerous hugs she had given him. She never seemed disturbed by his touches; in fact she had always seemed very happy whenever he did touch her.

Erik smiled as he recalled all the times he and Paris had acted like children whenever she was down in his home during the times whenever he took Christine down for her lessons. Christine had always looked fearful that Paris would push Erik too far and he would lash out at both women. However, Paris only had to smile or hug Erik and any foul mood that he had started to find himself in would disappear. Paris had become so dear to Erik and his sanity that should anything happen to her he didn't know what he would do. He had lost Christine to that damn Vicomte de Chagny but knowing that Paris would be there to give him a shoulder to cry on and a comforting hug had made the loss more bearable. But now Paris was in pain and had nearly died because of his foolishness. Tears filled his eyes and slowly trickled down his face. He would not let anything happen to Paris again.
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Paris' Song