Author note and disclaimer:

1. For starters I do not own POTO or any characters based off the movies, books, stage plays, etc.

2. I am still a new writer so criticism and reviews would be most appreciated, just don't flame me into the next century.

3. This is a EC and due to it's rating please don't be offended for later chapters.

Thank you for your time

TheDragonEye

Prologue

How had it come to this and so quickly? Since when could the mighty Phantom of the Opera become so seduced by a woman that he was now so submissive to her whim due through his own fault?

"Christine, please!" Came his ragged cry which echoed into a moan of the candle-lit cavern bellow the Opera Garnier.

"I knew you would see it my way, Erik. . . ."

Erik. Before the return.

Ever since the night of the great disaster that had ruined a good portion of the once beautiful Opera Garnier, Erik, or the Phantom of the Opera as he was known famously for, had spent his days and nights trapped within a strong cocoon of his music. His music had always been away to loose himself from his body and ensnare his mind in his own musical ability. It would save him the hardship and heartache of thinking about Christine, perhaps the one person in his life he would ever truly come to love. But like everyone else in his life, they took advantage of his weakness and shunned him once more all because of the deformity that lay under his black full mask that now adorned his face ever since the raid had ended.

The first few nights and days of his life after that night had been a swirl of paranoia and work. His home and haven in the deep catacombs of the underground had been raided and destroyed by a mob that would have loved nothing more than to see him hung while they watched in a sick form of entertainment while he struggled.

Things of his had been taken away from his home through greed, while others had been destroyed out of revenge and fury of not being able to destroy the man they set out to kill in the first place. Among the damage was his pipe organ, which had lost some of it's magnificence due to the raiders.

It had been another blow, but with the state of mind Erik was already in, he doubt very much that the destruction of his property could compare to the destruction of his heart. He had lost the stone boundary around his heart and watched as the stone walls crumbled around the fragile organ. Christine had pierced it with no problem, and perhaps the destruction of his property is what kept him sane during that time.

His body worked hard to repair his pipe organ, his music being the one thing he cared about now that Christine was gone. Working and pushing himself kept his mind set on his task, no matter how much he wanted to wish Christine would come back to him. Only a few times did people come back, none whom he wanted, but his fear kept his Punjab lasso in hand every time while he hid in the shadows.

Health was not high on Erik's list of precautions anymore. If he was to die he would do it while locked in the unconscious chamber of his music. At least music could sustain his body instead of food for he did not recall the last time he had eaten, he knew it would not be much longer until his body would shut down.

So he played, sometimes not stopping until his hands were worn raw to the point of bleeding or if he lost himself to fatigue.

This was the condition Christine found her angel of music in when she returned, nearly four weeks after the fire that ravaged the Opera house.

Christine. Before the return.

Christine had always thought Raoul loved her, which he did. But her childhood friend was not a child anymore and he found things in life he loved as well or even more than Christine. Sometimes his loves, which included liquor and flirting with the servants of the De Changy manor– both male and female– pushed Christine too far.

If the viscount Raoul de Changy was allowed his "Hobbies", why was it Christine could not? She could not even sing nor hum a single note without being attacked with accusations that questioned her love for him and brought up her angel, the man she had not seen for four weeks.

She had sometimes even been reduced to tears whenever Raoul chose the time to talk to her about not singing for fear she would bring the ghost of Erik back to haunt them. She cried into her pillows, crying herself to sleep most of the time. Her Angel could not be dead. She would not allow it to be so. Four weeks seemed so long a time and without a trace made her nervous about where he was. She wanted to see him, even if she hadn't seen him.

Until now.

Christine had changed that night in which Raoul took her away from her angel's home. And could not help but question her choice. The man had shown her nothing but love and yet why did she fear him so?

She had gone from a weak and helpless girl to a proud and self-reliant woman. Which also made her wonder why she cowered and accepted everything Raoul told her. But now, she herself could not tell if her attitude was real or an act anymore. Though she and Raoul were to be married soon, Raoul just didn't make Christine feel safe anymore, especially when he drank.

She could not tell him what was on her mind nor did she feel safe around him. She was a lost soul just as she had been when she was seven. It was time to once more seek her angel's advice and help, she only hoped that the man that caused a dull ache to her heart at every thought was still alive to provide the guidance she needed and the comfort she wanted.

Erik and Christine: Returning

Christine made her way down the stone passageways that led from her old dressing room mirror. Her path had been the same as the night when she had come down here with Erik of her own free will and when he had sung his love for her through 'Music of the Night'.

When she reached the edge of the waterways she was struck with realization of how it had truly not been so long ago, although it had seemed to be when she held Raoul's life and her freedom in choice.

As she continued on she was aware of her lack of stealth, especially when she had begun to paddle her way through the water in the gondola with much difficulty. She was caught off guard when she reached the gate to his home, in surprise that it was raised and opened. Every time she had imagined what would happen she had always assumed she would be yelling through the grating and begging at Erik to open and let her explain, in desperation that he would forgive her.

Christine clamored her way out of the gondola and on to shore with a quick glance about, her hope of him still being there decreased even more.

"Erik?" she called, her voice meant to call quietly and sharplysounded saddened and devoid of strength as it echoed off the cavern walls and back to her ears.

In truth she wished she had needed to yell to Erik, at least then her voice would have had a chance to grow in confidence. Christine walked from the shore, carefully calling Erik's name once more. There was no reply once more. However, once walking to the music room she found him and saw the reasoning of why he did not reply.

He was asleep, or at least it appeared to be so. His arms were sprawled across the cold, ivory keys of his repaired organ, a black full mask that covered his face was somewhat askew on his face but it was still not showing any slight views of his deformity. Christine could not help but give a small sigh and a faint smile at the knowledge that he was alright.

She crossed the small distance between them and at the closer distance her eyebrows furrowed with worry. It appeared, or at least what she could see at the odd angle where he lay that Erik was not completely alright as she believed.

Against the black of his mask, Erik's normal golden-tan skin had faded and looked awfully pale. His clothes had not been changed for the longest time due to their condition and they were next to ruined due to the dampness that had consisted in the air; as well as the holes and tears where underneath she could see untreated cuts from when he had pushed himself to work hard. A few buttons were missing from his worn and soaked white shirt and it clung to his unhealthy looking skin and revealed part of his chest which confirmed herthoughts. There was some considerable weight difference from when she had saw her angel last.

"Erik, what have you done to yourself?" she whispered, hoping that by saying it out loud would prove it to be true and that it was not her cause of his current conditions.

How long had he been like that?

Christine didn't know, but instinct and a form of pity and guilt knew to risk his anger than to just leave him. She had come here to see him anyways, and she would always feel an emotional attachment to the man.She reached out and gently shook him by the shoulder,

"Erik! Wake up! Erik!"

There was no way to hide the urgency in her tone, but Erik's response to her call was a barely noticeable shift, his hands had not even disturbed the keys bellow them. His vocal response was a low, almost mournful moan, his eyes not even opening.

Christine frowned, at least she knew he was alive, but she needed him to actually wake up. She moved closer to him. She knew he would hate her, for what she would do next. Especially with his reaction to it before, but it was the only other way she could think of to have him snap awake. She slowly turned his face towards herself and with her free hand she gently peeled the mask off his face.

His face was just as she remembered, or at least the distortion on the one side was. His 'good' side of his face looked worse even without the dark mask to contrast the colors, it was still pale, except for a patch of sensitive skin where the black leather mask had rubbed into his face. Which left a dull red mark under his eye and along his cheek.

She had been so busy studying his face that she nearly missed the small noise that came after she had removed the mask.

"Wha-. . . . . what are you doing?" came a soft hoarse voice, and Christine took a few steps back in time to see Erik slowly open his eyes.

They hung half opened under heavy eyelids and Erik hadn't even bothered to raise his head off his arm where it had lain.

"Christine?" he whispered, a faint light of hope sparking into now hazy golden-green eyes.

"I'm hallucinating. . ." his sentence trailed off and his eyes slid closed once more. Christine stared at the man before her in disbelief. Never had she looked upon Erik and had the word 'weak' come to mind as an adjective to him. But at the moment he looked so weak and vulnerable it was a surprise that he had not been caught. She shook her head a few times, he hair falling hin her face to hide a saddened look on her face. She recovered and pushed her brown curls back behind her ear.

"No, Erik. You are not hallucinating." she whispered as she would to comfort a small child."I have come back to you." she murmured and gently brought her hand up to his cheek. Her touch might bring him to realize that she was standing right beside him. That she had returned.

She instantly pulled her hand back the moment the skin of her hand had come in contact with his maskless cheek.It felt as though she had just touched flames, he was so warm in comparison to the rest of their surroundings. Her other hand gently touched one of the hands on the organ, causing Erik to slightly flinch and hit an odd chord on the organ before his hand went limp again. His hands were ice if his face was fire.

"Erik! Look at me. You are spiking a fever and cannot lay here any longer." she spoke and shook him once more, not too gently by the shoulder, when he failed to respond to her statement. When there was no other motion to show he had heard her she shook him harder.

"Erik!"

Ending note:

Thank you for all who have read this far. Please R&R!

Thank you once more!

TheDragonEye