She had wondered if maybe he would have been more comfortable in his own bed, as opposed to a couch, but she knew she couldn't lift him alone and she wasn't about to wake him up. Instead she sat and watched over him. She applied cold towels to his brow and when he started to murmur things, she didn't understand but saw how it agitated him, she sang to soothe him.

There were times throughout the night, when he would get sick and Christine ran and got a bucket to make sure he didn't retch on his own floor. She kneeled over him and wiped down his sweaty back. He wasn't wearing a shirt and when she wasn't worried about him getting sick again or feverish, she couldn't help but marvel at his physique. She chastised herself, considering the situation. Yet she still would get upset whenever she thought of Meg seeing her angel in such an intimate way.

"Stop… No! Don't hurt me. I'll be good… I'll…."

His voice startled her. "Erik? Erik, it's alright. You're safe. I'm right here."

He opened his eyes, as if he was trying to rationalize why he would be hearing Christine's voice. She saw his eyes open and grasped his hand in hers.

"That's right. Look around you. You are in your home and safe."

"Home…. I have no home."

"Of course, you do. You're at the Opera House, in your lair."

He opened his eyes again. This time his expression seemed clearer.

"What are you doing here?"

I wanted to make sure you were alright. Madame Giry said she tended to your wounds and you're going to be fine but there was some swelling and a fever. She wanted to make sure you rested so she…."

"That wench. I told her I didn't want any of that poison. Damn her!"

"Erik, it's alright. You needed rest and…"

"You have no idea how long it took me to rid myself of its enslavement. And I didn't want you to see me like…. Like this."

"Erik, please, it was nothing. Do not be embarrassed. You were stabbed. I'm just grateful you are alright."

He looked at her quizzical. "Are you, Christine? After our last conversation, I wouldn't have been surprised if you wish your Erik dead."

"Erik! Never! Don't ever say that. I was angry but I never would want you hurt or worse." She could barely say another word, for fear he might still be in danger. "How are you feeling?"

"You need to go." He sounded dismissive.

"What? Why? I'm not going, you may need help and…"

"I cannot be trusted if I fall asleep and I dream again. I'm not in the best state of mind, Christine."

"Because of the morphine? You'll think you were back in Persia?"

He sat up in an instant. "How did you…." He then shook his head. "Damn that woman! She…." He then felt his face and began to panic when realization hit him that he was not wearing his mask. He quickly covered his right side and looked down. "I'm so sorry…."

"Erik, stop! Don't apologize. I am fine. Your face is of little importance right now. Now tell me, are you in pain?"

He lifted his head up slowly. "No." He sighed. "At least the woman followed my medical instructions."

"She said that you knew a lot about these kinds of things." She touched his marred cheek.

"I've spent a lifetime getting stabbed or beaten for this face that you claim is of little importance."

"Erik, I didn't mean…."

"Find my mask." It wasn't a demand, more like a weak request.

"Erik, if you need to be sick again, I don't think…."

"I assure you, knowing I am here with you…. In this state without my mask, is the only reason why I would be ill."

She looked about and saw that it was carefully placed on his piano. She got up and retrieved it for him.

"Would you like me to…?"

He took the mask from her and placed it on his face by himself "Thank you."

"Erik, I am sorry for what I said earlier. I was wrong to jump to conclusions like I did."

"You were wrong in your reasoning, but not in your decision, my dear."

"What do you mean?"

"Knowing me is not a safe option for you. I could have killed you today and…."

"That was an accident and we all made terrible mistakes today. Please, let's just talk it through together. Our relationship involves both of us and therefore you cannot make all the decisions. I won't have you decide for me, like you decided for Meg."

"Meg?" He then threw the blankets off. "She brought Megan down here?"

"She wanted to be here. Madame needed help and I…. I was needed elsewhere." She lowered her head.

"Ah, yes the dashing Vicomte."

"Erik, please not now. I can't deal with all these topics in one evening. Can we first make sure you are well?"

He sighed. "As you wish, but I am fine. I need to walk around." He started to move from the couch.

"Are you sure that's a good idea."

"I have to get rid of it."

"Get rid of what?"

"The morphine. I can't have it anywhere near me. I know it is my fault it was even here, but I expected to use it on my deathbed. Now that I am clearly not dying, I want it far from my reach. I am going to dispose of it in the lake."

"Erik, let me help you." She went to grab his arm.

"What are you doing?"

"You can at least use me for support."

"No. I don't want you to even be here! Why would you even consider something between us now that you know I am not only a repulsive gargoyle, but I have an addiction?"

"Erik, I told you I don't want you making decisions for me. And for what it's worth, I hated that Madame gave you that drug. She knew how you felt about it, she should have fought harder or found another way."

He looked at her for a moment. "You do?"

"Yes, and for the record, I find your bravery over this addiction makes you even more extraordinary than you already are."

"Extraordinary? Just a few short hours ago you never wanted to see me again. How does one go from being cast aside to admired so quickly?"

"I told you, I reacted poorly. I was upset about Carlotta and embarrassed and scared, as I almost lost my life…. You can't expect anyone to think clearly under those conditions. We all can't have your… Err… level headedness." She smirked.

"You're making light of this?" He looked at her in half amazement and half bewilderment. "Could I hope to infer that this is not the end of us, then?" He didn't care what Christine would think by his use of the word us. He had to know. He too had a very trying day, but he wasn't about to compare highs and lows with her.

She took his hand. "No, this is not the end of us."