A/N: You know, it's funny. While I was writing this on Word it was four pages long. Yet seeing it on here, it looks so much shorter. It's amazing because when I write this, I don't think. It just kinda flows out. Well dears. I hope you will like this.

thePhantom'sEvenstar: A knife? My dear, you had a slightly morbid side dontcha? I hope you enjoy this chappie.

NoCookies4U: Continue reading dear. I am glad you like it.

PrimaDonnaKate: Hehe, no. I don't want him to kill someone.. yet :P

GerrysJackie: Every review that you leave me makes me feel fabulous. To have an author such as yourself comment on my stories is wonderful and I thank you for reading this. I will indeed go into details about Eriks past and what made him into the man he is. But I will work into that slowly. I do hope you continue reading!

XXX

Erik walked down the hall and into the living room. He stood before his windows and gazed out at the New York City night. All the lights yet it was still dark. It was always dark.

His mood was foul and all he wanted to do was take out his frustration through music. But he couldn't do that because then he would wake Christine.

Christine…She was the cause of all this. If he had met her he would have been content living a life alone. A life without any light in the darkness that consumed him all hours of the day.

Her smile or her laugh wouldn't have haunted him all these years when all he wanted to do was to forget.
To forget the past and the pain. But that proved impossible.

It seemed that his past would always follow him. He had tried everything from moving to the other side of the world to numbing his mind with morphine.

But it seemed that perhaps it was time to face the past. Christine being here, in his apartment proved that. But he couldn't open up to her. Not after everything that had happened. Not after all he had been through. He couldn't be hurt and rejected again.

He sighed as he thought of the last that time he had seen Christine. She hadn't realized it but he had been watching her. She had been standing on the beach, as she was known to do.

It had been a windy day her hair was blowing out behind her, making it look as if she were underwater. She had been talking, to her father he guessed.

He had seen her mouthing words and had seen the glistening tracks of tears on her cheeks. He had wanted to walk over to her and talk to her.

But it was too late. He had already written his goodbye, he had never thought to see her again.

Yet here she was, sleeping down the hall. The first time he had heard that name "Christine Daae." He thought he would die, for his heart had stopped beating.

When she stepped onto the stage he felt a wave of emotion come over him. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry.

She had changed over those three, almost four years. Her hair had grown longer and her body fuller. She was now a woman and her couldn't help the attraction he still felt towards her.

He wanted to move again, to get as far away from her as possible and to never return to the theatre but he knew he couldn't do that.

When Antoinette had mentioned giving her voice lessons he was shocked when he had said yes. This was exactly what would lead to his ultimate destruction. The downfall of what little was left of his sanity and control.

The first night he had unlocked the front doors and had quickly disappeared down a secret passage that would lead him to the cellar before she would even arrive at the stairs.

He had used his voice to lead her down into the darkness. The darkness, which would allow him to cast his eyes on her without her ever knowing it, and without ever knowing it was him.

At first his concern was that she would recognize his voice. But he realized that over time his voice had deepened and had a more musical quality to it. He had learned to power the voice had over the mind and he was used it to his advantage with Christine.

She hadn't asked questions…until the other night. That had unsettled him. He knew something was bothering her. He knew that she was tired of him hiding from her. But he couldn't bring himself to reveal himself to her.

He was so afraid of her reaction. Would she be glad to see him, and old childhood friend? Or would she be upset to see him? Would she be mad at him for the way he had left things? There were so many reactions she could have and so few of them had a good outcome.

The night she had shone the flashlight in his face, he almost lost complete control. His anger was so strong he had seen red.

The look on her face when she saw it was him was that of amazement and yet she didn't look to surprised that it was him. Despite keeping her in the dark it seems she had known it was him all along.

His anger flared so quickly that the only reaction he could come up with was to frighten her and to yell. But as he saw tears slide down her smooth cheeks his anger had dispersed as quickly as it had come. He let her go.

But as soon as she left he knew he had to follow her and he was glad that he had. He had heard her screams and had taken off in a run, not caring about the odd looks he was getting from others.

Lord knows what they were thinking, seeing a masked man clad in black running as if mad.

As he had rounded the corner into the alley she fell right into his arms. She had started kicking and screaming, but he was able to hold her still. He looked at the two men who had obviously tried to hurt her and he felt murderous.

All he had to do was say the right thing and advance on them and they ran off. He knew he had to get Christine off her feet and take care of her ankle, so he had decided to take her to his place since it was closer.

He had supported her weight as he helped her hobble down the street towards his apartment. He didn't say a word the whole time and he knew that Christine was suffering because of it.

But he wouldn't talk to her. He couldn't. He didn't know what to say. He was still mad at her, yet he felt so many other things at the same time. He couldn't deny the fact that it gave him joy to be around her again.

When he had touched the flesh of her ankle he had cursed himself. Such a simple touch, yet for him it was like a drug. He wanted more, much more.

She had hissed in pain and the sound sent a dagger through his heart. He had quickly looked up into her eyes.

Eyes which looked the same after all these years. Her eyes weren't exactly blue, yet they weren't gray or green either. They didn't fit one specific color. Yet they were the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.

The quick glance had lasted merely seconds, yet in that time he knew how weak she made him. How weak her beautiful eyes made him.

After he had bandaged her ankle and had given her the pain pills he had lifted her into his arms. She in turn had wrapped her arms around his neck. He couldn't help but think of other circumstances where he might carry her in his arms into a bedroom…

But he couldn't think like that. He wouldn't allow himself. Yet she felt so warm and soft in his arms. To think the first time he was holding a woman, and it was only because she herself could not walk.

He had placed her in one of the extra bedrooms, easily seeing in the dark. He set her down upon the bed and had tucked her in.

"If you need anything, I will be down the hall." He had said, sounding so cold and composed. He left her room swiftly to get away from her and the memories she brought with her presence.

Now he was standing looking out at a world that would never accept him. He could be artistic, intelligent and kind. But they would never see past his mask or what lies beneath it.

He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, and he knew that music was out of the question. He paced the dark, hard wood floor thinking of a way to let go of all his pent up emotions. To forget, if only for a moment the girl who was sleeping down the dimly lit hall.

XXX

Christine stood on the beach, her hair flowing in the wind. She looked out at the deep blue ocean, talking to her father. Even though she knew he probably couldn't hear her.

Still, talking as if he could hear her was comforting. When she was done she took a deep breath, savoring the salty scent of the ocean. Something she would never grow tired of.

As she watched the rolling waves she could have sworn that someone was watching her. She turned around and came face to face with Erik.

He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and shook her.

"Why?" He demanded, his eyes burning with anger.

She couldn't understand his anger. She just looked at him dumbly as he shook her.

He finally let go and she fell to the floor. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a blood red rose with a black ribbon tied around its stem. He threw it on the sand before her and turned to walk away.

"Erik! Why are you leaving me? Erik, please. What did I do wrong?" She tried to call. But her voice came out no louder than a whisper.

"Erik!" She tired to shout again, as tears slipped down her cheeks. But he continued walking away. She tried to stand, to run after him. But she found that she couldn't move her legs.

She watched him walk away until she could no longer see him. She then looked down at the rose, which had begun to wilt. She reached out to pick it up and pricked her finger.

Dark blood oozed out of her fingertip and she watched as drops of her blood fell onto the sand by the rose. This time she reached out more carefully.

But as soon as she picked it up once more it turned to ashes in her hands. She tried to hold onto these ashes, but the wind blew them all away.

She was left alone on the sand with the darkening sky and a pool of dark red blood around her lifeless body.

XXX

"Erik!" Erik dropped his pen as he heard Christine call his name. He was on his feet in an instant and ran down the hall as fast as his feet would carry him.

He threw open the door to find Christine curled into a ball beneath the covers, shaking and sobbing. He didn't know what to do so he just stood there.

Eventually she stopped moving, but her sobbing didn't stop. Soon that stopped too and she was still. Too still for his liking.

He walked over to the bed and lightly shook her. Her eyes opened to look at him and he gave a sigh of relief. He was fool to think anything was wrong other than a nightmare in the first place.

"You were crying, I wanted to make sure if you were all right." He explained as she looked up at him questioningly.

She blinked a few times as if trying to understand what it was he was telling her.

"Do you have a bathroom?" She asked quietly.

"Do I have a what? A bathroom? Of course! I don't use an outhouse." He said indignantly.

She looked as if she was about to smile. "Care to tell me where it is?" She asked.

"Down the hall to the left. Let me help you." He said, as she extricated herself from the covers. She didn't argue and allowed him to help her down the hall to the bathroom.

She looked around the bathroom with wonder. The bathroom was quite large, and tiled in dark green slate. There was a large shower as well as a large bathtub, which was raised off the floor with little steps leading up to it.

The sink sat atop a large counter top, above which was a large mirror. She took this all in as she hobbled to the toilet.

She looked into the mirror after she was gone and gasped. She looked absolutely horrible. The makeup she had been wearing earlier was runny from all the tears she had shed. Her hair was a mess, and the rest of her face was red and splotchy from crying.

She quickly raked her hands through her long hair and pulled it back into a ponytail, securing it with a black hair-tie she had around her wrist.

She then splashed some cold water on her face and washed off the remaining makeup. She quickly dried her face off on a soft towel that was hanging on a little rack and then replaced it as neatly as possible.

She opened the door to find Erik a few feet away, obviously waiting to help her back to her room. She smiled at him, despite the fact she knew he was still upset with her.

But she could have sworn she saw the corners of his lips rise, before he regained the stern look he had earlier. She let him help her back into bed and tuck her in.

He left once more and she quickly fell asleep, feeling incredibly safe with Erik down the hall. She never even noticed the little speck of blood that was on her pillow.

A/N: Yes! I know you hate me! I know many of you are wondering, wtf is that dream with the blood and the rose about? Well my dears, I wondered that myself lol. I wrote that and I myself was wondering what it was about. Yet it seemed to fit. So I thought about it and realized what it meant. I believe if you, my lovely readers think about it you will understand. If not, it will be revealed later on as we get to know our two kids here. I know many of you are also waiting for fluff and for Erik to go into his past and what happened the years he spent apart from Christine. But patience! Things will come together soon enough. Don't forget to R&R and an update will come even quicker.