Christine woke softly this time. She was still curled around Erik's arm. He lay next to her, half lost in the folds of her dress. She sat up, smoothing her clothing as she rose.

"I still can't believe you came back." he whispered, startling her.

"I thought you were still asleep. I'm sorry if I-"

"No, I wasn't. Resting, but not asleep." he answered. He sat up with some difficulty. Christine could see a strain in his movements, and weakness in his posture. There was a breathlessness to the way he spoke, as if he could not breathe: Mme Giry had been right, he was very ill.

"You're not well, Erik. How long has it been since you've eaten anything? How have you lived like this?" she asked. She took in the wreckage of the apartments. The organ's keyboard was broken in half, broken glass from the mirror in what had been her room was strewn across the floor, and broken objects were thrown all over. There were still spots of blood on the floor where she had struck her head in a futile attempt to take herself away from the horrible choice he set before her. The wall hangings, sculptures, everything in the house was broken and thrown about.

"Eaten? I don't know. Not for some time. I…well, I haven't cared much, to tell you the truth." he answered. A cynical note crept into his voice. He shut his eyes and concentrated on the joy of having her back, however short the visit, pushing himself not to dwell on things he could not change. Christine sighed and the sorrow in that soft breath could have ripped his heart in two.

"You're angry with me?" she murmured, sounding very much like a little girl who hadn't the faintest idea she'd done wrong.

"No, Christine. Not now, not really. I missed you." Erik answered. He was wheezing terribly again, having to concentrate on breathing. With every breath he caught her scent. Between the onrush of emotion and the mere presence of her, he was biting his lip to bleeding to keep from either suffocating himself or forcing himself on her. His fists clenched and his eyes squeezed tighter. Christine obviously took his reaction for pain and leaned over him, easing him back to the bed. Her hair brushed over his face. Oh, this is too much! He roughly cast her away from him, toppling off the bed himself in the process. His chest seized, the mask slipped away from his face. Her hands were on him again, pulling him up. He tried to push her away but the terrible pressure building in his chest was choking him and the nausea that came with it made the room spin.

"No, no, Christine! I…."

"Erik, you're in no condition to hurt me. You're not even in any condition to move. Now lay down!" she ordered. The mere shock of her taking charge nearly knocked him back to the bed on its own. She was no longer a child, she was a woman, and for that there would be no arguing with her.

Christine strolled slowly down the marketplace. The basket she carried was nearly full. Erik was back in bed, sleeping, when she had left. The odd illness was worrying her badly. She bought some tea and some herbs to give him, as well as all the food she could afford. She hoped he could repair what he had done to what passed for a kitchen in the house. She made her way through the market, basket swinging on her arm, lost in thought. She loved Raoul so very much, he was her husband, and a friend since childhood. But Erik! He was a different case all together, the musician and tutor she always needed and, in a way, the mysterious love she wanted. Raoul's recent aloofness had put a strain on her heart and their marriage. Was she turning to Erik simply as an escape from Raoul's indifference? She was so lost in thought she almost tripped over the step to the Opera House, soon to begin rebuilding. It was still empty, though, thank goodness! The plans were new and rebuilding would not start for another few months. She found herself wondering what would happen to Erik if they did rebuild. She slipped in through a side door and down into the cellars and set her mind on the task now before her. Erik was dying and in a way, unlike Mme Giry, she felt responsible. Considering the circumstances, she was surprised he was even alive at all.

He was awake and struggling to sit up when she returned. He almost seemed to freeze when he saw her.

"You…I…I thought you left for good. Again." he said, the cynicism seeping into his voice again. She dropped her head and sat down next to him.

"I bought some tea. I have food as well, and-"

"No, I don't want anything right now. I want to talk to you." he said. She gripped the handle of the basket and her eyes drifted down.

"You're a married woman, I assume?" he asked. He was digging deep right away and her sadness was apparent right away. She nodded stiffly and the wicker handle of the basket creaked under the pressure of her hands. He gently pulled it away from her.

"Stop that, you'll hurt yourself." he told her, matter of fatly.

"We…we were married a year after we left." Christine stammered. She was now gripping her skirts, her knuckles white. She was tense, almost frightened.

"Any children?" he asked, voicing the question that knifed through her heart. For a moment she froze completely. Her face turned chalky and the pain in her eyes was so powerful he moved back from her unconsciously, instantly regretting his question. Her lower lip trembled and she suddenly threw herself into his arms.

"Erik, there was a child. I was pregnant and I caught a terrible fever. The baby was never born." she sobbed. For a moment, Erik was shocked at the pain he felt for her, knowing her loss and knowing how much she must have hurt. He wrapped his arms around her, cursing himself for hurting her. He kissed the top of her head and let her cry for a moment.

"I'm so sorry, my love. Cry all you like, I'm here." He whispered, stroking her hair. She sighed, relaxing, almost melting into his arms.

"I so wanted to have that baby…and the only thing that made me feel better was remembering your voice, my Angel. You saved me!" she sobbed wretchedly. She snuggled into his chest, seeking comfort in the soft beat of his heart. The sobbing tapered off into mere sniffles. He sighed and wondered if she knew how incredible it was to have someone hug him, to seek comfort from him. His chest hurt where her head pressed against it, but he ignored it.

"Do you feel well enough for me to eat whatever you've brought in that little basket?" he asked. She gave him a smile, wiping her face with her little white hands. She had bought an impressive array of food and medicine, apparently rather intent on keeping him alive. He mentioned the thought to her and she gave him another smile, this one brighter. It stung his heart with the beauty of it. A tiny flash of hope that perhaps she would stay this time, perhaps he would live and she would be with him.

For several hours, they were talking and eating; he told her a story or two from the thousands in his head and she told him of the bustle of every-day life. He carefully skirted around her marriage, instead focusing her on her little distractions and hobbies, and how her voice was doing. She had been learning English and was quite good at it, almost fluent, a fact that made him unspeakably proud of her. Erik found –impossibly! - he was loving her more and more as they conversed. The way she laughed, how she leaned forward during a part in the story, all so beautiful! She sung a few new songs she had learned, although she mentioned she no longer performed. They even played a game she knew where she would sing a line, he would sing it back and add to it, she would sing both phrases and add more, until one of them missed forgot a phrase or missed a note. He, of course, beat her, but she didn't seem to mind and teased him that he was cheating.

He finally felt comfortable, happy, and normal. The bands of pain that had been squeezing his chest were beginning to release and he actually felt better than in some time. Hours of talking, until they were both stifling yawns, but he never wanted this to end. Couples talked like this, didn't they? Maybe…

"Why did you come back to me?" he asked suddenly. She froze where she sat on the floor.

"Erik, please-"

"Why did you come back?" he pressed. Her eyes wandered for a moment, seeming to look within. This lasted for some time and finally, her eyes focused on him, studying his face with a gaze so intense he actually dropped his eyes. He had not heard her move, but she now knelt before him, his hands held in hers.

"I came back because I need you. I missed you." she answered. She was just so close to him, he could feel her breath on his face. Her clear blue eyes met with his, sending a sudden jolt of electricity through his heart. His body tensed almost to the point of pain.

"Erik, I kept telling myself I didn't want to see you. But you were the only thing I came for! You've always been everything to me!" she breathed.

"Oh, Christine…" he whispered, his heart fluttering madly in his chest.

"You brought me back from the brink of death, and I knew that I should have stayed." She whispered. Before he could stop himself, he leaned in and kissed her.