I am jolted awake by Erik thrashing around in the bed beside me and crying out in his sleep. I reach for him, realizing that he was having a nightmare… The first he had suffered for several weeks.

Indeed, I had feared that this would happen after we had seen the passing gypsy caravan earlier that day on our journey above to gather some necessary supplies. Knowing something of his past imprisonment and torture at the hands of gypsies and how he had been caged and exhibited as "The Devil's Child," I had grown pale at the sight of the colorful wagons. Erik had attempted to make light of it, dismissing it as of being of no importance, but I had not been convinced.

I could feel the tension in his body as I hugged his arm in reassurance and the pain and apprehension in his oh-so-expressive green eyes was obvious to me as I looked up at him worriedly. We had returned in haste to his underground lair where I quietly began to put away our supplies as Erik went straight to his organ without so much as a word. I had flinched as he began to play, the tortured notes giving voice to the painful memories that seeing the caravan had awakened in him.

Now it seems that all that awakened trauma had once again risen to torment him anew. Erik cringes away from my hand on his shoulder, crying out and lifting his arm as if to walk away or as if to shield himself from a blow. I call his name and wrap my arms around him, trying to wake him.

He jolts violently in my arms, and his hand closes around my throat, squeezing for a moment as I gasped before shoving me away as his eyes fly open, looking around wildly as if not knowing where he was. I call his name again, my hand going to my throat, the dull throb telling me there would be bruises later.. Recognition dawns in his eyes at last, and I cautiously reach for him, touching his shoulder before cupping his disfigured cheek. Erik leans into my touch as I speak softly to him, trying to comfort him. I wrap my arms around his trembling body, his heartbeat pounding in my ear. Erik allows me to hold him for several moments before pulling away. He does not return my embrace... and he will not look at me.

I watch as he throws back the covers and rises to pace back and forth restlessly. Never a good sign.

With tension evident in every line of his body, he reaches for his trousers and begins to dress. I started to ask where he is going but hesitate, the throb around my throat reminding me of his turbulent emotions. Not wanting to agitate him further, I watch as he finishes dressing, replacing his mask before throwing his heavy black cloak over his broad shoulders and heading for the door. I rush to follow him, grasping his arm and asking him to wait only to have him pull away with a growl, green eyes flashing dangerously. I let go and take a step back, eyes wide in alarm at the abrupt change in his demeanor.

Recognizing that he has shifted to the dark and sometimes dangerous persona of the Phantom, I can only watch helplessly as he disappears through one of the secret doorways in the lair, which closes behind him to once again resemble part of the stone wall.

I can only imagine what horrible memories of past torments had disturbed his sleep as I turn away sadly and seat myself on the settee near his organ to await his return.

Where had he gone? I wondered. To the roof perhaps? Or was he even now stalking through one of his underground corridors, or exiting his hidden entrance on the Rue Scribe to walk the darkened streets?

I hoped fervently that he would not encounter anyone, as there was no telling what he was capable of in his current state. I knew all too well how lethal he could be at times. And the fact that he had fled from me, refusing my comfort was further evidence of his distraught state.

I look at the clock on the table. 1 AM. He had only slept about two hours before the nightmare had disturbed him. I sighed, sadly rubbing my abused throat before curling my legs up under me and resting my head on my forearms as I stared into the fireplace. There was no use returning to our bed. Sleep was not even a remote possibility without Erik beside me.

Although I was worried about him and wished that he had remained, there was nothing I could do but wait for his return. I thought briefly of trying to read, picking up a book of poetry from the table, but abandoned the idea after reading the same line three times. I could not concentrate. Where was my Erik?

I awakened with a start at a gloved hand stroking my hair to find Erik standing over me. I say his name and sit up, realizing that I had fallen asleep after all. The clock announces that three hours have passed. Had he only just returned? His gloved hand touches my cheek... His eyes going to the bruises on my throat and filling with tears that spill over as he drops to his knees before me.

He lays his uncovered cheek against my breasts as I hold him, stroking his black hair. In a voice hoarse with the pain of many years, so unlike his usually angelic melodic tones, he apologizes for his rough treatment and rejection earlier when he awakened. I tried to reassure him, but he will not be comforted. He insists through tears that he is indeed a monster to have treated me so. That I was injured because of him... but the gypsies had been right to cage him, because that's where monsters belonged. My heart breaking at his pain, I gently cup his face in both hands, But he still will not look at me. He Allows me to gently remove this mask, and I kiss his tears away as he trembles.

I hug him tightly, resting my cheek against his disfigured side and telling him that I love him. That he is not a monster. I gently scold him not to call himself that again in my hearing. He hesitates before returning my embrace, before crushing me against his chest and holding on tightly as if he feared that I would disappear.

I hug his neck and cover the disfigured side of his face with kisses, whispering words of love and reassurance until he calms a bit. I am able to coax him up off his knees to sit beside me. I cup the left side of his face, my thumb gently wiping away the tears there as I ask if he wants to talk about the nightmare. He hesitates a moment before nodding.

At his request to hold him, I rest my head on his chest with my arm around his waist. He pulls me against him with his arms around me taking a deep breath. He shivers and I hug him tighter, the turbulence in his beautiful eyes apparent.

My throat tightens with emotion as Erik tells me of dreaming of being back in the filthy cage in the gypsy circus... He begins to tremble again as he says that he can still smell the dirty straw... the cotton candy... the unwashed bodies of his captors... In his dream, the gypsy who had imprisoned and exploited him was once more entering the cage to discipline The Devils Child. No... He had not been Erik there, he said hoarsely as tears filled my eyes at the raw pain in his voice. He had not been a PERSON... but only a disfigured child with an angel's voice to be abused and exploited for gain!

He had had no name there OTHER than " The Devil's Child"! My heart broke and tears spilled down my face as Erik's voice cracked saying that horrible name.

He swallowed heavily, pulling me tighter against him before continuing. His tears began to flow again as he spoke of dreaming of his failed escape attempt. The one time the gypsy had been drunk and careless and failed to properly lock up his prisoner. He had been recaptured mere hours later... tracked by dogs and severely beaten before being dragged back in chains. Furious at his prisoners perceived betrayal... The gypsy ordered him chained up.

Both Erik and I are crying as he tells me of his desperate attempts to escape the vicious beating that followed... attempts that had left both of his wrists encircled with bracelets of scar tissue. I took one of his big hands and pushed back the cuff of his white shirt to kiss the cruel mark there, my tears falling on his skin. Erik shivers, moaning softly as I held his scarred wrist against my cheek. He watches me with turbulent eyes before asking me why I would be willing to comfort him after the way he had treated me earlier.

He gently touches the darkening marks of his fingers on my throat. Once again I try to reassure him, telling him that I understood and did not blame him. That it was only bruises that would fade and be forgotten... He shakes his head. He tells me how he had suffered through these nightmares for years, always awakening alone here in his underground lair. Only since my entrance into his life had this ceased to be a nightly torment, causing him to avoid sleep as long as possible until his body shut down forcing him to rest.

He gently strokes my hair again and thanks me for being there. For keeping the nightmares away for the most part. He begins to apologize again for injuring me while still caught in the throes of his nightmare, but I stopped him by covering his lips with mine in a gentle kiss.

He moans softly and kisses me back before pulling me tighter against him, resting his disfigured cheek against my hair. I told him I loved him and that he would never be alone again. That I would always be there to hold him and comfort him. How I wished I could erase these horrible memories... But for now, I held him close, rubbing his back as he finally began to relax against me, accepting the love and solace I so freely offered.

My throat would be sore tomorrow ...Or should I say later today? And I made a mental note to approach him with more caution when next I had to rouse him from a nightmare. For now, it was enough that he had returned safely and that we were together. Whatever dark memories he was forced to confront in the future, he would not face them alone.

I would make sure he was never alone again. Hopefully my love would be able to heal some of the damage done by years of trauma and abuse. I kiss the hollow of his throat and rest my head against his heartbeat. He holds me closer and sighs, his breathing deepening ...and he is soon asleep in my arms, hopefully with only peaceful dreams this time.

I was so happy I had won his trust enough for him to come and seek solace in my arms. I knew that he did not give his trust away lightly or easily.

I would continue to work hard to shower him with as much love and affection as he could handle in the hopes that it would erase some of these terrible memories. It was a difficult task, I knew, but I was determined to do my best. These things take time, I think to myself. I smile, looking down at him... the fearsome Phantom/ Opera Ghost asleep in my arms. No one else got to see this vulnerable side of him.

Smiling, I close my eyes, relaxing against him as sleep begins to claim me as well.

THE END