Woooh, so haven't written a Phantom story in a bit, have I? Damn. Well, this story came about from an article I read about... well, if I say, I ruin the story XD Alright, Please enjoy and let me know how you like it.

Disclaimer: Not mine :P

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Erik moaned, his ears ringing. His head, lying on dampened pillows, lolled this way and that. It was hot, why was it so hot? Erik knew he had built his home to be well-ventilated, despite its location. He moved to get up, but his head spun and the ringing grew louder. He committed himself back to his coffin bed, resigned to stripping off his dress coat and cravat. Days, it seemed to have been, since she had gone and he felt none of the yearning he had before. Only embitterment and lackluster desires, mere wisps of what they were. How could he continue to love a woman who did not love him in return? It was death-suicide! Yet, he could not help the way his body had ached for her face, her voice. Such an ache it was that he clutched his chest and moaned, howling at its primal hold upon him.

The pain was more frequent now, and he felt as if this really was his end. Alone, in his dungeon: a miserly dragon-man with his treasure stolen by a meddlesome knight. Oh yes, he had breathed fire, spat venom and used everything he had to make her stay. And even her kisses felt wrong; Infused with some kind of pity. He was not sure what kind it was, but he knew it left a sour taste in his mouth. He glanced about the room, taking in the place he had lived in for so long. A bookshelf filled with volumes he had paged through to the point of memorization, a writing desk littered with notes and scores. His ink well had been tipped over the night before in the midst of a spasm and he had watched the ink dry from an inert position on the floor. The papers seemed unimportant now. Glancing at his winged chair in the corner, he spied her.

"Hello, Erik."

"What in God's name are you doing here?"

"I would never abandon my own-"

"You cannot be here. You're dead… and you despise me." Erik leered at his mother's image, so pure and youthful. Any age lines she had acquired during his childhood seemed to have been washed away and she looked completely at ease with everything. He watched her stand and look about the room.

"It is not the most well-kept place, is it, Erik?" she hummed. He struggled to get onto his elbows, all the while wanting to curse at her.

"Forgive my lack of a housekeeper. Not many would dare to venture into 'The Phantom's' territory."

"Goodness, you've been quite the little troublemaker, haven't you?"

"Don't patronize me, woman!" he barked, jaws snapping quite violently. Erik's mother shook her head.

"My sincerest apologies, son. I didn't wish to cause you any ill. I merely came to comfort you." Erik growled, his face twisting behind the mask. His was arguing with himself, seeing his dead mother, and generally dying. Erik wondered if perhaps this day could possibly be any more jovial.

"I don't want you here." He moaned, falling back to his pillow. Her form moved towards him, slow and majestic. Lightly, her hand settled upon his forehead, pushing the mask back. It slid onto the pillow with a soft 'thump'

"There you are…" she smiled, almost tenderly. Erik wanted to sneer but merely huffed softly.

"You know, Erik. I mourned you the day you left me… I never felt anything but regret for what I had done to you….What I helped you become."

"And I'm sure your penance bought you a pretty little piece of heaven, didn't it? Tell me, do you take tea with God on Sundays, after Mass and tennis with the cherubs?"

"Such vehemence. I understand, for I've done nothing but bring you sorrows. It is my wish, as your mother, to be here for you now in your dying hour. I did so little during your life." Erik started to rail upon her-upon his own mind- but was stopped by a sudden spasm. His arms filled with rigidity, his coughing more like a sputtering, saliva-infused mess as his body rocked this way and that in convulsions. She steadied his face, looking right into his fearful eyes as the fit grew in hatred, and then died as swiftly as it came. His chest fought to rise and fall as his glared hopelessly at the ceiling.

"How can you sit here and watch me die?" he asked, softer than a prayer. She smiled sadly, hand still pressed to his hallowed cheek.

"I came to be with you. No one should die alone and darling, no one ever does. When you die, a person who loves you or had loved you in life comes to you. Since I am no longer of this Earth, I made sure you had someone by your side."

"Mother, you've hated me for so long…why change this now?"

"My mind has been changed for a long while now. Even in life, I knew that my actions towards you were irreprehensible. You are my child, my son! Why-and how- could I have been so cruel? I love you, Erik. I want you to know that in life, so that you may pass on peacefully into death." Erik took in her words, dearly affected by her candor. Indeed, her words had touched his struggling heart, giving it some will to beat for a while more.

"Mother… your intentions are good, and I can see in your eyes that you're sincere. But, I can't pass on peacefully at all. Please don't look offended, mother. It's just –"

"Ah," she said, smiling with wisdom, "Christine." An involuntary tear betrayed him, sitting in the corner of his eye as her sacred name was uttered from the lips of an angel. His mother turned about and stared at the doorway. Her eyes peered, searching deeply in the darkened abyss.

"I think, my son, you should forget her."

"How could I forget my reason of being? I hate her! I hate her for making me love her! ; For bewitching every fiber of my being and turning it into a fiber of love for her. The only kiss I've known I despise, for it was given out of pity! Mother, I long for her terribly and I cannot die in peace knowing she never loved me. "he paused, breathing hard, " yet, I will die. It is destined, it appears."

His mother seemed to nod at something and then turn. "I'll be awaiting you in heaven, dear."

"Wh-where are you going? You said no one dies alone!"

"And you won't, dearest, you won't." Erik's fear and agitation were palpable as he watched his mother's form fade. The room grew darker, the air less breathable and his heart less steadfast. He felt his death, like an unwanted stranger at his door and he dearly wanted to shut him out forever and hid like a spider in a forgotten corner.

"Erik!" came her voice, that treasured voice. He struggled to standing, ignored that damned ringing and moved towards the abyss. Out of the doorway, he peered at the lake before him. The lantern on the boat glowed sickly as it approached, carrying his beloved. He nearly fell to his knees, but crossed his arms in efforts to fight gravity. When the boat bumped the shore, she jumped into the shallow water and ran to his side.

"Erik! Oh my, you look so ill. I knew I shouldn't have left," she cried, her hand reaching out to touch him. He had no power to flinch, nor any power to fight the urge to retrieve his mask. Mechanically, he turned to retrieve it.

"Erik, stop. "

"I'm not dressed for guests," he wheezed, steps wobbling as he heading back into hi home. She caught him as he fell and then managed to get him to recline against her.

"Ssssh, it's alright. I don't care. You're perfect as you are." He looked up at her face, awe-struck. Softly, she planted a kiss to his lips.

"I was wrong, Erik. Ever so wrong. I loved you then, and I love you know. What happened isn't important and I want to stay with you. Please, Erik, please get well." He touched her face in silent wonder, unable to say a thing to her passionate plea. In such disbelief, he could not speak at all.

"Erik?"

"Erik's dying, my dear," he said, playing with a tendril of her hair. He tugged on it softly, watching the ringlet bounce back into its shape and smiled. How he loved every part of her.

"No, Erik," she sobbed, touching their foreheads together. He held her close, hand cradling the back of her head. Her tiny fingers twisted into his shirt, clinging to him.

"Keep Erik's ring, Christine… He knows he said he wanted it back, but-you're here and Erik know you'll bury him… "

"Erik, I love !-" she choked, pretty face so tragic in her tears.

"Sing for me, Christine. Sing, my love…" He said, eyes becoming dilated. She wanted to refuse, plead with him to live, but it was no use. Softly, she sang her love a lullaby. And as his life slipped away, he felt it. Something he had never felt, but knew its name.

Peace.

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It is an insane short story. Shoot, I apologize.

Anyway, hope you liked it!

-Arsenic