|Don't Forget My Love
Author: Waytoointoerik PM
Miserable rogue surgeon, Erik Chalon, creates his Christine when an amnesia patient falls into his lap. E/C only. Waytoointoerik style.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance - Erik & Christine - Chapters: 14 - Words: 27,414 - Reviews: 185 - Favs: 33 - Follows: 55 - Updated: 07-30-12 - Published: 08-30-11 - id: 7337599
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Hi all, I know its been a long time since you heard from me. Its been a strange time for me. Potophan and I are still writing together and we are working on the road to becoming published (it is a rocky road filled with a lot of pot holes and pit stops). A few years ago we really sat back and assessed the writing and I realized I had a lot of work to do. We took couple of years and a ton of classes and have been finishing up some original work, as well as beginning to submit.
But there is always Erik.
I have been really stressed out lately, and I think when I get stressed I want to go back to something that makes me happy and comforts me, and for me its Erik. There was a story that always stuck in my head, and we finally stepped back from all our hard and fast goals and said – "It's time to tell it." Fan fiction has brought me a lot of joy over the years, so I hope you enjoy this latest incarnation.
I have a facebook account at WayToo IntoErik if any of you want to friend me, and our blog is going to have some great contests etc at www (dot) leigherikson (dot) blogspot (dot) com.
Reminder about WTIE stories and a word from the legal department: Disclaimer: I own nothing of Phantom of the Opera; they belong to Leroux, ALW and Kay. If I owned anything remotely close to Erik, trust me I would never write about it, I would be too busy with him. Warning! This is an AU fic! Beware before you read further!
A huge thank you to my best friend, editor, writing partner, psychologist and a host of other things – POTOPHAN1010 Let's find the fun again.
So without further ado: Here is Erik Chalon:
Don't Forget My Love:
Erik Chalon put the last stitch through the face of the corpse and stepped back. "What do you think?" He clenched his hand along with his teeth, thankful the horrible scraping sound reverberating through his head would drown out the answer he was about to receive.
Dr. Anton Pratch reached up and adjusted the large overhead light, leaning down and moving his face closer to the incision site.
"Just say it." Erik stared into the light. Everything in the stark mortuary was blaring white. The floor, the walls, the ceiling, he wished he could disappear into the light.
His mentor smacked his lips together and finally answered. "If this man were alive, the incision would definitely show once he healed."
He pressed his nails into his palm, a little harder and he would break the skin. "I adjusted the muscle."
"That would definitely help with the underlying structure." Anton said.
"It's still not right!" He couldn't stand there any longer while his work was picked apart. He threw his tools onto to the tray, the sound of metal upon metal echoing as he ran in direction of release.
He found himself in the bathroom, blinking away the spot in front of his eyes caused from staring into the light. He glanced into the mirror, maybe one day he would finally destroy the image, and he lifted his hands, clawing his nails down his face.
The warm blood ran down his face as he exhaled. The sting of the injury coupled with the accompanying dizziness couldn't be beat by any drug. It was out, the misery was being let loose.
Once again he raised his hands. He was the only person on the planet whose face was made better by the scars he left behind. If only he could succeed in actually ripping his face off.
"Stop!" Anton burst into the bathroom, threw his medical bag down and grabbed Erik's hands. "Don't do this!"
He tensed against being restrained and began to shake. "I'm a failure."
Anton pushed him back and stepped in front of him. "You are going to be magnificent."
"You forget I'm not a doctor. Where am I going to practice?" He forced his muscles to relax knowing Anton wouldn't let go until he did.
"Look at me." Anton's tone turned parental.
Erik focused on his voice.
"I have told you that we will find a way. People will pay huge amounts for the talent you have right here." Anton squeezed his hands and let go, bending down to get his bag. "No one is doing what you are. They will flock to you." He poured antiseptic on a piece of gauze. "My hands won't allow me to work anymore, but with my training and your ideas, the possibilities are endless."
Erik didn't move while Anton tended to him wondering why the man even bothered, his face looked like an infected mass of unwanted flesh even when it wasn't bleeding or injured.
"You need to keep your focus." Anton continued. "You are going to change lives. You will have everything you ever wanted."
Everything he ever wanted. Erik shut his eyes at Anton's words. He would never have everything he ever wanted because he only wanted one thing, the love of another. Since his wish wasn't an option, he would have to settle again. He glanced over at the mirror. "I should start wearing a mask again."
"This is the only mask you need." Anton bent down and pulled a surgical mask out of his bag. "You will be a surgeon."
But not a doctor. Erik filled in the rest of Anton's sentence. Another settlement.
"Get me a new body." He may as well get back to work.
"Come." Anton threw his supplies back in his bag and led Erik back to the where the mortuary kept the bodies. "I have been saving the best for last." He rolled out a drawer.
Erik held his breath, the battered body before him had seen better days, the face was in shreds, broken, bruised.
"Car accident." Anton told him. "Fix her."
"If the woman lived she would have wished she didn't." Erik picked up a scalpel and made his plan, before he approached his next patient bent over diffusing the adrenaline coursing through his body.
Anton put his hand on Erik's shoulder. "If this woman lived, she would have wished she had you as a surgeon."
"She would never know who I was." Erik straightened up.
"It doesn't matter." Anton motioned forward. "You will be a surgeon, and your next patient will be living."
"It's about time." Erik started his first incision.