Erik's POV

By the time I've finished serenading Shadow into a fitful slumber, I'm picking her up out of the boat and carefully walking her up to the bed that had been meant specifically for Christine. As I lay her down, I take note of how peaceful she looks when she's secure in her dream realm, no problems or struggles to bring any sign of stress or discontent upon her face.

She's beautiful this way.

I turn away from her for a moment to try and collect my thoughts. So many things need attending to, and yet only one thought remains at the forefront of my mind.

Shadow loves me. The idea sends shivers of pleasure and repulsion rippling through me. That's ludicrous. She was speaking like a madwoman. She would say anything to get me to stay here and not go through with Don Juan. My mind doesn't agree with this theory. The look in her eyes was far too raw and honest for it to have been a lie. How could she love me with this grotesque infection that I was born with? This face is the reason Christine will not admit that she loves me.

"Erik. . ." My heart leaps in my throat as I whip around to Shadow's sleeping form.

Though her eyes are still closed and it's obvious she's asleep, there's no doubting that the sound came from her. My eyebrows furrow, as I wonder if she's having a nightmare.

"Shadow?" I breathe softly, bending beside the bed to watch over her.

A long moment of silence follows my question.

"Erik." She finally responds with a sigh of bliss, a hint of a smile curling at her lips while she rests.

I gaze at her in bewilderment, wondering what she could be dreaming about to be talking about me in her sleep. Taking a risk, I gingerly brush a lock of hair away from her face, looking at her with conflicted feelings.

She loves me, but I love Christine. I think, but the words only seem to tangle my sea of emotions even more than they already are. This must be why she was crying that evening on the roof; she understood what it felt like to love someone who didn't return the sentiment.

My heart goes out to Shadow because, if I know nothing else about how she feels, I understand her emotions as far as her unrequited love is concerned.

It still appalls me that said unrequited love is myself.

"Poor child." I sigh, sitting on the side of the bed to watch over her. "So much despair you have gone through." My fingers graze the top of her head hesitantly, before I stroke her hair with a caring hand. "I'm sorry I put you through all of that nonsense with the managers. They are fools to believe everything I say."

As I say this an idea springs to mind. It is something that will keep Shadow out of the line of fire, and also to make certain the idiots follow my orders, unlike last time.

Making sure Shadow is still tucked away and with no intention of waking up soon, I swiftly make my way to my makeshift desk area, and briskly grab a quill and a slip of parchment.

Gentleman,

I'm sure you've been wondering as to whether or not your very own Shadow has been my accomplice. I find it insulting that you would believe I need help from anyone. My reasoning behind the name shall now be demonstrated, for your little Shadow shall truly be mine. Unless you allow Christine Daae to play the main role of Aminta in my most recent play, your precious Shadow shall henceforth be held captive with me. Do not disappoint me, gentlemen.

O.G.

Pleased with myself, I grab an envelope and put the letter inside, sealing it with my signature wax skull.

This should make those idiots feel guilty for how they've made poor Shadow feel. I scoff bitterly in my mind.

I shift in my chair so that I can see if Shadow is close to waking or not, but she appears to still be in a deep slumber, and I don't believe that she'll wake anytime soon. So, I move around as quietly as possible, grab my letter, and make a quick run to Giry in order to make sure the managers receive their letter.

Once that is done, I make my way back to my lair, and am relieved to see that Shadow is still fast asleep and has barely moved. I'll have to explain to her later that she'll have to stay with me for the next month and a half since I'm supposed to have "kidnapped" her.

She loves me and I'm still going through with Don Juan; this will break her heart. I find myself pondering. Perhaps I shouldn't. . . But I quickly shake my head and begin walking over to my organ in defiance of those foolish thoughts. No. Christine will be mine. If I back out now, all of this will have been done for nothing!

Satisfied with my resolve on the situation, I sit down at the organ and take a fleeting glance at Shadow, a sad smile forming on my face.

"Pour toi, Mademoiselle Shadow," I whisper the words into existence.

And then my fingers stroke the keys, and my music comes to life.

Notes sweet and soft escape from underneath my hands and through the pipes of my organ. A tune like that of a whimsical child floats into the atmosphere, before changing into a melody of a child abandoned and neglected. Symphonic tones of hope and acceptance flow from my fingertips, before turning into a more hushed song of unknown affection. As the knowledge of the dear young lady grows stronger, the notes crescendo until finally there's no mistaking it: this is a song of pure and unadulterated adoration. It plays on for but a moment, before my pinkie slips the aria into a minor key, a signal that the young woman's love is not returned to her.

I take moments here and there in between fragments of the composition, writing down the rapturous sounds on a blank page of sheet music, making the song immortal to everything but decay.

"Angel of Music," I hear a sweet, timid voice break through my musical barrier, but only for a moment, before my fingers play more intently across the keys.

In the next instant I am stopping to jot down the notes, I feel a presence beside me; I know without looking that it's Shadow, but I stiffen, remembering when Christine had been here.

She'd revealed the horror beneath the mask when I let her get too close.

So, I scoot a hair away from her, before continuing on with my piece that is dedicated to the conflicted woman beside me.

As the music holds its sway over me, I can just make out the lightest pressure on my shoulder. I pay it absolutely no attention until I've finished the piece and have it written all down.

"That was. . .angelic." Shadow breathes, her head resting peacefully on my shoulder.

I place a kiss on the top of her head before it registers in my head what I'm doing. I flinch back quickly, not certain why I just did that. Perhaps it is a result of how strongly the music took a hold of me.

Music brings out my truest emotions and urges me to act on them, meaning that I do, in some degree, care for Shadow. I discern, my eyes widening at the revelation. Well, who wouldn't, anyway! She's kind and knows when not to meddle. She hasn't even bothered to try and remove my mask.

"What now, Monsieur Phantom?" Her tiny voice queries, breaking through my idle wonderings.

She needs to know that she'll be staying down her while they rehearse for Don Juan and why. I resolve, turning slightly so as not to disturb her position.

"You will be staying here with me for the duration of rehearsals for Don Juan." I explain. "Considering you've been persecuted enough for your supposed comradery with me, I have given a letter to Madame Giry. She shall deliver it to the managers and they will know where you are. I clarified in that letter that you were never in any sort of alliance with me, and that I would be 'holding you hostage' down here with me, to make certain that they put Christine in the main role."

There's a long silence that follows my explanation.