Yay! More updating! I'm going to hopefully be updating Red Rose Thorns soon, but, lately, no inspiration is coming to me to write that story, but as soon as it comes, I'll be on my computer typing away. I go as the muse commands and my muse is telling me to update Memories, so, yeah. Here it is! There is one more thing I gotta tell you guys: I just started school and I already have a mountain of homework so if I don't update for a few days, or weeks, don't freak out. I'm probably studying my French or something along the lines of that!

Memories

Christine felt as if she was on a cloud and she never wanted to come back down. She and Raoul had reached his chateau and she was currently twirling around her room, slurring a song that was all too familiar to her, Music of the Night, but she couldn't remember who had first sang the song to her.

Grasp it, sense it,

Tremulous and tender.

Turn your face away,

From the garish light of day,

Turn your thoughts away,

From cold, unfeeling light,

And listen to the music of the night!

The lyrics slipped happily off her tongue, but, for some reason, she felt sad as she sang the beautifully written words. Then, she remembered a small part that someone had sang to her when she was sleeping and decided to change the song: I alone can make his song take flight. He can create the music of the night!

Finishing her song, Christine picked up the syringe and vile of morphine which sat on her vanity; she filled up the needle to the amount Raoul had showed her and found the vein in her arm. Within seconds, the wonderful drug worked its magic on her body. Now she understood why people did this to themselves: it felt nice. She felt like she could take on the world and not care what other other's thought of her. Crawling over to her silky sheeted bed, Christine fell asleep in mere seconds; dreaming of a handsome young man with a white porcelain mask covering half his face.

"Erik."

^.^

Erik rode his horse, Cesar, towards the de Chagny home. After their carriage had left, he discovered the needle Raoul had shoved into his beloved's arm; it was half full with morphine. Erik knew the drug well; he himself took the drug after Signor Giovanni had died. The pain of losing the man who had first accepted him for who he was, and not for his face or past, was too much to bear so soon after the death of Herr Daae, so, he turned to the sweet, blissful morphine to soothe all his troubles. Christine couldn't have been any older than 8 when he started, he couldn't remember her exact age because of his drugged stupor, but he could remember her small hands grabbing at his wrist; her pleading brown eyes, sparkling with unshed tears, looking up into his hazy, unfocused golden eyes…

Erik sat at his piano, crying over the death of the man he considered a father. Signor Giovanni had passed away less than a week ago and he had started the horrible habit of buying morphine from dealers and injecting himself, usually in front of the innocent Christine; who always looked strangely at him whenever he would perform this act.

"Masque, are you alright? Do you need anything?" her little voice asked from behind. Jumping from her sudden question, Erik looked wildly at her and abruptly stood up from his bench; fists balled up in anger. Drug induced anger that Christine had never meant to trigger.

"WHY DO YOU CARE?! HUH? Do you really think I need anything? The only things that I need are my mask and morphine! I don't give a damn about what happens to you! Leave! NOW!" he yelled and knocked Christine onto the floor; where she now lay huddled in a ball, tears coming out of her horror filled eyes. Turning from the annoying child, Erik grabbed the vile and needle and filled it up to a dangerous level.

Even at her young age, Christine could tell that if Erik injected himself with that much morphine, he would be in serious trouble. Quickly getting off the floor, she wrapped her little hand around his thin wrist before the needle pierced his skin.

Erik looked down at the tiny, frightened child in front of him. She was trembling and her brown eyes were still filled with tears.

"Please, Masque? Please s-stop the morphine. I-I-I…I can't stand seeing y-you like this. I know Pa-Papa and Signor Giovanni would b-be sad if they…if they…could see y-you like this." She stammered through the whole thing, looking heavenward so her tears wouldn't fall. Erik couldn't understand what the child was trying to do until he saw her other hand reaching for the needle.

"No, my dear. Needles aren't meant for children."

"But it's also not meant for you!" she wailed. Why couldn't he figure out why she was holding his wrist? Or the morphine filled syringe?

Erik sat at his piano bench; no longer crying, but dropping his drug and pulling Christine into his arms.

"I'm sorry, Ange. I'm so sorry. I promise I'll never treat you like that again."

Shaking his head of the painful memory, Erik continued on his trip to the de Chagny chateau, which was now coming into view.

"I'm almost there, mon Ange. Hold on just a few more hours."

^.^

Christine felt as if someone had taken a hammer to her head; she couldn't remember what had happened the previous night. Slowly sitting up, which proved to be a horrible idea as her head spun and vomited all over the ivory sheets, she wasn't able to tell what, or whose, room she was in. Getting up from the bed, which was just as equally excruciating s sitting up, she saw a syringe and a vile. Picking up the little glass bottle it read morphine and then everything came back to her: Erik promising her that he would take her to Sweden when she felt better, her going over to the opera house to inform the managers, and…Raoul. He had drugged her with the morphine and kept her on it all night long.

Running towards the door, her pounding head be damned! She needed to speak with Raoul right this second! Grasping the doorknob, Christine turned it and found it wouldn't budge.

"RAOUL! Open this God damn door right now! Now, now, now, NOW!" Christine yelled and pounded with all her might. Finally, she heard footsteps coming down the hallway, but all it turned out to be was her maid.

"Mademoiselle Daae? Do you wish to have a bath?" the frightened, old maid timidly asked; afraid of disobeying her master's orders. Christine shot a hateful glance towards the woman. Why couldn't Raoul come to her in person? Why was she here? What the hell was going on?

"I want to talk to Raoul. Show me where he is and I'll do whatever you want me to."

The poor maid looked at her as if she had ants crawling out of her eyes.

"Mademoiselle! You can't see the master right now! He'd be furious! Ever since you declined his invitation to dinner after your performance, he has never been the same. His temper is fiery, he stays in his study all day, and all he ever does drink. It frightens us to no end."

Christine felt ashamed for her outburst earlier. The maid had done nothing but ask her if she wanted a bath and what did she do? Being mad and bitter towards a woman she barely even know.

"I'm sorry, Madame. Actually, I would appreciate a bath and is there any chance you can give me something for my headache? If you could, that would be wonderful." She smiled and turned to walk to the immense closet that sat in a corner of the room.

Christine knew that Erik teaching her how to hear every little sound would eventually pay off; as the maid turned towards the bathroom, Christine darted for the bedroom door.

It was silent in the hallway, but just a few doors down, she could hear a glass breaking. Raoul. The drunkard. Quietly walking down the hall, she spotted the staircase and felt a surge of relief wash over her. So close! Just a few more feet and I can be with Erik again! At that thought, Christine stopped dead in her tracks. Why did she feel that she needed to go straight back to Erik? First of all, she didn't even know where he was! What did she feel for her friend and guardian? He was a murderer after all, but…he never had tried to harm her in anyway…but what was this confusing feeling? Was it sympathy? Was it pity? Love?

Finally reaching the bottom of the marble staircase, Christine felt a hand on her arm. Thinking it was Raoul, she twisted around, only to end up twisting her own arm in the process, and let out a gasp. It was Erik. He had come to get her! Not being able to find her voice, Christine flung her arms around his strong neck; burying her face in his shoulder.

Erik never felt so relieved; he had been able to get his love out of the mad boy's home before he could do anything to her. Shaking at the thought, he let his arms lay gently on her waist, one hand stroking her silky brown curls. Christine felt Erik shaking, but decided to leave it be. He was here with her now and she wanted nothing more than to just stand there in his strong, thin arms.

"Erik, you smell nice." She said, pulling back enough to look into his eyes. He did smell wonderful; like roses with a hint of mint. Erik stiffened at her comment. He had just come back to rescue her from her insane friend and all she could say was that he smelled nice? Calm down, Erik. She must be in shock. You would be too if your old childhood friend had drugged you and took you to their home. She probably didn't expect you to come and bring her home. "Thank you, my dear. Now, we must hurry before anyone discovers you are missing." And just as the sentence left his mouth, a shriek erupted from the top floor, "Too late." He smiled; brotherly instinct taking over, he took Christine's small, shaking hand into his larger, and equally shaking, hand, the two were able to escape through the backdoor, but not before a drunk Vicomte seeing them.

"So, monster, you take her away from me once again, but, little do you know what is laced within that morphine." He laughed wickedly and finished off his 3rd bottle of the morning.

^.^

After putting Cesar back into his stable at the opera house, Erik turned around and saw Christine sitting on top a bale of hay, looking paler than ever.

"Christine, are you alright? You look pale." He asked; his knuckles gently brushing against her cheek. She had been quiet the whole ride back; maybe she was still registering all that had happened to her. Catching his hand, Christine looked up at Erik's face, but everything was becoming blurry; his face going in and out of focus. Feeling the familiar pounding beneath the skull, she felt herself fall off the bale, Erik yelling her name over and over, but she couldn't find her lips to tell him she was fine. Then, as if things couldn't get any worse, a horrible, blinding pain started to spread throughout her body. What was happening? What could she ha-morphine! Raoul…Ra…oul….

"E-Eri-Erik….hurt. P-pain…Rao-Raoul….morphine!" she screamed and felt the tears rolling down her cheeks.

Erik couldn't believe what was happening! One minute, Christine is fine and talking to him, and now, she looked as if she was dying! There must have been something in the morphine….or an overdose with a delayed reaction…

"Don't worry, Ange. You're going to be fine. Just calm down."

"NO! I-it…it hu-hurts! Hu….hurt…love…" her voice trailed off; her small body going limp in his arms.

Erik sat in absolute horror; was she dead?! She was still breathing, but she was still. So still.

"Hang on, Christine. I'm here now." He whispered in her ear; brother and lover affections mixing into one, he picked her up, hoping he could remember how to get to the hospital. After leaving the stables, Christine stirred in his arms a tiny bit, but the movement wasn't the only thing that made him stop dead in his tracks. It was what she said, "I love Erik. I love him."

I'm sorry if this chapter sucked. This story shall be wrapped up shortly so I can focus more on my other story so yeah. I've been writing this chapter late at night so that might be part of why it sucks, but here it is whether you want it here or not. REVIEW!!!!!!

^.^