Hello readers! Hope you all are enjoying Erik and Amelia's journey into trust and (well, eventually) love.

Thanks to all the follows and reviews. Christmas in Paris is coming soon, and new twists are coming. We will see how Amelia tackles them. And how Erik wrestles his own desires.

Let me know what you think of this chapter. :)

Enjoy!

Those eyes. Those eyes cut through me, cut into cut every hold, every tie in my body that pulsated for touch many years ago.

They are familiar, familiar in the way a dream seems to burn into old memory.

Had I witnessed them before? Or am I confusing them with the sun?

This sensation, this want.

I killed it and murdered before my very eyes long ago, as if it could never take over my senses.

I was not a human, I did not belong to that race. I was beyond the scope of human love.

The lanterns above us were glistening like I intended them to do. I could see very clearly tears bordering on her bright eyes.

Had my voice driven her into despair? Had her mind become a another empty shell of control, my control?

No I would not pray. I will not make that mistake, like many pitiful others. I would never join them in that outrageous sham, that fallacy built on emptiness.

But I hoped, yes hoped, for her sake she could still see me, and not just what I could sing. I hoped.

I must have forgotten to breath, for she was walking toward me with a strange patience. My lungs stopped as she knelt in front of me.

My heart then burst in its cage.

I felt her, the heat from her beautiful body on mine. Her slim arms were around what she could touch.

A gasp was ushered in the room, when I realized I was to the blame for the sound. How infantile, how childish! I would not harbor on that, however.

My life had stopped in this moment.

I could feel her tears falling gracefully on my shirt, a moisture on my arm. I stopped myself from releasing my own tears.

Why had she cried? Was It just my voice, or her own inner demons?

How can she even have such thoughts, a child like her?

But I knew the answer already. There was more to this young woman that I would ever see; she would not show me her mind, I did not deserve such a blessing.

Perhaps...

Yes. Perhaps I could glimpse into it, just a glimpse.

So this is what I have studied, what I have absorbed. This was an embrace; this was affection. I could have sworn I would never experience anything from the human world besides hate, rage, and my belligerent temper.

But this...this would be the end of me. This would be that sweet death I have been waiting for.

Yet could I even call it that name? Perhaps a more beautiful label?

Before I could stop the bastard, my right arm was reaching for her. I wanted to embrace her tighter into me, as if I could have some of her innocence, a piece of heaven she had acquired merely from her birth. Yes, that was her fate, as beautiful as her eyes, as her soul.

The moment my hand touched her slim back was the moment I had sold my soul to the only god I believed in.

...

The air suddenly was cold against Amelia's skin; without a thought, she held on to him, feeling his warmth spread to her chest. Her hands were around his waist, or what they could reach. She took the appearance of a perfect doll, her body so small compared to the tall man she was embracing. Her curls made a cascading dark wave, falling like the tears on her tanned skin.

Madam Giry's warnings seemed to dissipate into thin air, as she held him. They were there, surely, in the back of her mind. But in this moment, her mind was filled with a that same strange dream.

Or was it a memory?

Cold snowflakes falling like white crystals from the sky. Nothing else but the powdery substance against her skin.

The tears fell freely until her golden eyes were reddened and tired.

All the boundaries, all the walls came crashing down like thunder on a dry, dying tree, obliterating into nothing. Amelia was a strong woman, but as soon as Erik had opened his mouth, his song to her, she became a child again. A very frightened child that needed affection and warmth. And him.

She realized she needed Him.

Suddenly she felt a very light sensation on her back.

His large hand was on her back, light as the snowflakes in her memory.

He had returned her touch.

That is when she realized how close he was to her bosom, how intoxicating his perfume was, and how his heart was beating rapidly in tune with hers.

Her senses came back to her in a flash, her lovely face reddening with embarrassment of her unbecoming actions.

Oh...what have I done...

Amelia dared to look above her, trying to discover his reaction to all this.

Would he be angry? Would she be a victim of his rage, his temper, as Madam Giry had said?

She had been so...indecent.

She lifted her face, her heart beating madly and almost painfully.

It was nothing of what she feared. There was only gentleness in his dark eyes; she noticed a glint of yellow in his right eye, the side hidden by the white mask.

There was no fury, but a sad happiness, something she had never seen in him in the past few months.

She felt so small in his arms.

It was like holding on to a smoldering fire, encompassing her completely.

Amelia let her eyes dart down to his thin lips.

Suddenly, she pulled away, frightened and ashamed at her thoughts. Amelia felt her cheeks becoming extremely warm, knowing how red she must be.

She lifted herself up, her back hitting the dark bookcase abruptly.

"F-forgive me...forgive me! I did not...oh God..."

The young maid was doing her very best not to cry again.

It took the Opera Ghost a few moments himself to return to the current situation, his own thoughts in another world.

He lifted himself gracefully, quite the opposite of Amelia.

"I-I should...I should go..."

His voice snapped her out of her embarassment.

"Amelia."

Her eyes were wide, the young maids reddened eyes looking up at the dark tall figure in front of her.

It was the first time he had ever said her name. He said it with a caress, a melody she had never heard in her life. He made her name sound...beautiful.

It shut her racing thoughts instantly.

"Sit."

He commanded her, a power in his voice.

Amelia sighed softly, knowing it was quite futile to leave.

He gestured her down into the soft exotic rug, helping her down into the floor.

She could not meet his eye without turning another bright shade.

Erik sat down next to her, another graceful move. The young maid could not believe how he could move so delicately for such a tall man.

She was barely five feet tall and she moved as swiftly as an elephant, as Amelia had just shown against the bookcase.

The young maid felt his eyes on her. He was completely silent.

Oh, what is he thinking? How am I supposed to find out more about him when I have acted like a...like a fool? How is he supposed to trust me...?

She went to open her mouth, trying to offer some kind of explanation, but his stern voice beat her to it.

"You think you could just escape without your lesson..?"

Amelia met his eyes, a stern yet kind glint to his eyes.

Her nervousness disappeared a little, the air becoming a bit less thick.

She smiled shyly.

"Oh... of course. That was precisely my idea," Amelia replied, her voice brimming with sarcasm.

This made Erik chuckle, a dark sound Amelia found rather pleasing.

He met her eye and simultaneously reached behind him, grabbing a earth-colored book.

Erik opened the tome and commenced the lesson.

Amelia was surprised at his composure, his calm. He did not seem offended or even scorned by her actions. He was in control.

What Amelia was not aware of was know is the intensity and heart-wrenching battle currently in Erik's heart.

But he knew control more than anyone.

He read from the tome, all in Latin. But Erik translated perfectly, patiently explains the theories of the moon. The tome was just on the moon herself, legends and folk tales.

They discussed Eastern and Western tales takes on our only orbiting friend.

They were all very fascinating, especially the Japanese takes on the moon.

Imagining cutting into a bamboo one day to find the moon princess!

Amelia listened with a growing interest in all this. But she could not help noticing how he spoke of this science, the wonder in his eyes.

He was sharing this with her.

They sat under the lanterns for a while, Erik's voice resounded like a deep wind chime.

When he finished, the tall man closed the tome in his hands, crossed his long arms, and leaned against few cushion behind him. Amelia looked at him, confused.

His dark eyes were watching her expectedly.

"Um...what?"

He rolled his eyes.

"You owe me a tale yourself."

Ah, the story. Why had I forgotten about that...? I have not even thought of what to say! Calm yourself. You know this. You have done this before.

But it was even more nerve wrecking with Erik watching so intensely. His gaze had that affect on her skin.

She straightened her back, a curl sticking up from her hair amusingly. Amelia looked down, gathering her thoughts.

She took a deep breath.

A picture of the moon surfaced in her mind. She had told a similar story about the moon to her brothers and sisters, but after acquiring new information, Amelia had a new story to tell.

I do hope I do not bore him...

"Once, very long ago, the Moon lived peacefully in the silent sky. She looked after the world from the heavens.."

The young maid was looking up Into the colorful cieling, the candlelight making her amber eyes glow. Amelia did not know it but she looked even more breathtaking than usual. The dimness made the entire room seem warm.

Erik was watching her, away from her petite figure,yet following her every word. But he was a master at disguising his emotions, and he would not show them at this moment.

"She looked after the humans every night. It was her responsibility. Yet there was one man, a fisherman, that fished his catch in the late hours of the morning. The moon looked after him especially, curious as every night, the fisherman would take his humble boat and go out into the middle of the sea.

"He would catch a few fish, happy to have enough to eat. But the Moon wanted him to be happier, so she made the waves larger, bringing in more fish from the deep sea."

She glanced at the Opera Ghost, sitting nonchalantly, but not taking his eyes away from her.

"When the fisherman went out again during a very cold night, the moon was large enough to make the entire night bright as the sun. He caught hundreds of fish, his smile a beautiful sight for the grand Moon."

"Every night was the same. The Fisherman was able to catch hundreds of fish. But one night, the moon had been tired and was very small, waning away. She fell into a deep sleep, her crescent shape disappearing into the night.

"The man did not catch any fish. Neither did he the next day. And the next day. He became so taciturn, so sorrowful that he stopped fishing all

Together."

Amelia's voice grew soft, thinking. She did not look at Erik, but she knew she had the man waiting for her words.

"The moon soon returned, a beautiful large crescent in the sky. But it had been too late. The fisherman had drowned in the waves, thinking he had seen a fish, one he so desperately needed..."

"The moon cried endlessly, the waves being their most tremulous and dangerous. Her crying was endless."

"One night, however, bright new stars appeared in the sky. It was brighter than most of the stars around her. When she cleared her eyes of tears, the Moon realized the surrounding stars made the shape of a fish."

"The fishermans soul had swam

up into the heavens. The bright fish swam in the darkness of the night, following the moon throughout the cosmos. They traveled the stars together..."

"Now, on every cold night seen from the earth, the moon and the constellation are known to swim until reaching the end of the horizon, waiting again for their chance to dance through the night."

Her mind returned to the present.

Amelia stopped speaking; she had never been so nervous about telling a story. She always told it as she went, never writing them down or memorizing them. It was a new one every night at the orphanage.

She looked up at Erik, his head absentmindedly leaning against a deep royal purple cushion. His eyes were unreadable, his face surprisingly soft. He looked darkly handsome, his slightly bare chest moving up and down with his calm breathing.

His arms were not crossed any longer, but also leaning against the pillow. The mask seemed to glow once again.

It took him a few seconds to go

back to his serious self.

He straightened himself.

"You tell stories...just simple stories..."

Erik spoke, to himself or to Amelia, the young maid did not know.

She was puzzled; had he hated her story that much?

He stood up, towering above her small figure. Erik seemed not himself in this moment, but the phantom that he was infamously known for. His dark eyes had a mad look to them.

Was this the fury Madam was speaking about....?

"My dear, you are no fool. You have been given a gift, and you must nourish it, help it flourish and grow into something better than this world! You alone must do this. You will, and I cannot do much but listen to your voice as you have so listened to mine..."

Amelia was dumbfounded.

/A gift...? Does he think I have...something worth cultivating?/

"Sir...I do not think I have much to-"

He sighed frustratingly and bent down, grabbing her small hands in his.

Erik was looking at Amelia with an intense ferocity, a strength Madam had warned her about.

Should Amelia be afraid?

"You have everything , my dear. You are..."

She waited for him to finish but he shook his head, eliminated that thought. Erik was holding her hands still, gently as if they would shatter if they fell.

His thoughts were swarming like they usually were, tremulous and dark. Memories resurfaced in a flash, as much as he rather have them dead and thrown into an abyss.

Amelia could sense the change in his emotions, a charge in the air. She could feel it, barely but surely through his gloved hands.

"Monsieur Erik...?"

He lifted his eyes slowly.

Hmmm...well, what an odd pair we make.

"You are right, Monsieur. I will..."nourish" my storytelling. But I do hope that does not mean you have canceled your lessons. And after all this...I thought you would keep your word!"

Amelia stated mockingly, a smile creeping on his lips.

Erik snapped back, his pride in check.

"Doubt does not suit you, my dear."

"Neither sadness on you, Sir."

Amelia looked at him with a patience she knew she would need. This man was a complication, a puzzle that did not want to be solved.

Perhaps endurance would triumph.

He let go of the small hands. Erik walk across the room, stopping in front of the dark grand piano. He stroked it, his mind elsewhere.

Amelia knew this would be a difficult journey. But she would not give up.

She cared for this man, in what way she did not know for certain. Yet, Amelia would continue on.

"Monsieur, I was once told by my Foster mother that every human was a world unto their own..."

He glanced back slightly, his hands tracing curves into the wood of his instrument.

Amelia smiled, lifting herself up. She straightened her dress.

"You, however, are a universe."

...