A/N: Hello, dear readers! It's Winter Break, which means that for the past few days I have done nothing but read, write, and plan my post-graduation trip to New York. As always, thank you so much for the wonderful reviews, and enjoy the chapter!

Christine's POV

Erik said it wouldn't be easy, and he certainly did not lie. Watching him as he went through withdrawal was the hardest thing that I had ever done. I had always relied on Erik; for as long as I could remember, I had known that Erik would be there to take care of me. But now he was weakened and in pain, and I had to take care of him. At first, I tried to distract him from the cravings and the pain. I asked him to give me lessons, or to play for me. But it only got worse for Erik, and by the middle of the second day I was trying to send him back to bed.

"Do you need to go to a hospital?" I asked, startled as he stumbled into the room. I had no idea where the nearest hospital was or how to get there, but I had to at least ask.

"No hospitals," he snapped. "I… haven't had the best experiences at hospitals before. Besides, even if we went, they wouldn't treat me – I don't exist, remember? But I don't need a hospital. I'm fine. It's nothing that I can't handle. And I'm not going back to bed."

Erik was being even more stubborn and belligerent than usual, and I knew that it would be best to simply let the issue drop. However, it was only a few minutes later that I found him doubled-over on the hall floor and managed to convince him that everything was not fine and he should go back to bed. He leaned on me heavily as I walked him back to his room.

"Are you in a lot of pain?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. Talking to Erik just made me feel better, like if he was well enough to talk then everything would be alright.

The only response that I got was a vague noise that suggested that he would have liked to just collapse and lay on the floor again.

It seemed like a miracle that we made it to his room, and I gently laid him down on the bed. Erik seemed unfocused; his skin was deathly pale, and even though he was shivering violently he was covered in a light sheen of sweat. He made no protest when I helped him change into more comfortable clothes, and even after I had made him as comfortable as possible I paced the room, wishing that I could do more to help him. I had searched the library shelves for some sort of medical dictionary or anything else that might help me know what to do, but there was nothing. I was on my own.

So I did the only thing that I could think to do and simply stayed with Erik constantly. I pulled a chair up to his bedside and sat there with him, stroking his hair like my father always did for me when I was sick. Erik was burning with fever and his pulse was racing and he seemed almost delirious, which I supposed was from a combination of the high fever, the pain, and the cravings. After helplessly watching him for a while, I noticed how uncomfortable his mask looked as the edges of it rubbed against his skin. He would be terribly angry with me later for removing it, I was sure, but now concern was eating away at me and I knew that I would do even the smallest thing to make him more comfortable.

Very, very slowly, my fingers moved to the edges of the mask as my mind tried to create a picture of what I was about to see. Everything had happened so quickly last time I had removed the mask, though, and my memories of it had become vague and blurry at best. And even then, I hadn't been as close to Erik as I was now; I hadn't seen the deformity in as much detail.

Bracing myself for the worst, I peeled away Erik's mask.

The flesh that made up the right side of his face was scarred and discolored, twisted unnaturally and in one place so thin that his skull showed through. It was shocking, though not altogether terrifying. I found that as I studied it more and more, the horror of it diminished and I began to look at Erik's face as a whole again. Soon I could not resist the urge to touch him, caress him, and I began to run my fingers along the contours of his face. Erik sighed at my touch, though it was easy to tell that he was not fully aware of what was happening. Visibly relaxing, he brought a hand up to cover one of mine, and at the simple touch my heart felt as if it had leapt into my throat.

A song suddenly entered my mind, begging to be sung. It was the song that we had been working on in our lessons for weeks now, even though I had made little progress on the difficult piece. But now it was as if something had clicked inside of me. The words made sense on a much deeper level than before, like they were the absolute truth and I felt them to my very core. The melody burned inside me, passionate and alive, and soon I found myself singing softly.

"Love's a curious thing,

It often comes disguised.

Look at love the wrong way,

It goes unrecognized…

So look with your heart,

And not with your eyes.

The heart understands.

The heart never lies.

Believe what it feels,

And trust what it shows.

Look with your heart –

The heart always knows.

Love is not always beautiful,

Not at the start…

So open your arms,

And close your eyes tight,

Look with your heart,

And when it finds love,

Your heart will be right."

I could not fathom why the song suddenly held meaning for me, why each word suddenly rand clear and true, but I knew that I had sung it now better than I ever had before.

"Perfect," Erik said faintly, making me smile.

And then I realized why it had been perfect – for the first time in a long time, I had put my heart and soul into the song. I had sung for Erik, and Erik alone.

Meg's POV

Although the rest of the world seemed to have just the opposite reaction, my worry grew with each passing day, and I thought of Christine more and more often. She had been missing for almost two months now. Who knows what Erik had been doing to her all that time? Mother remained confident that he would never hurt her, and she had even started to believe that, in due time, Christine might even turn up on her own. I, however, was not so optimistic. I was ready to do anything to get Christine back, even go against my mother's trust.

"Raoul!" I hollered after the boy one day when I happened to see him walking through the theatre. At first he looked at me as if he did not recognize me, but he walked over to me anyway.

"Meg, right?" he asked. I nodded. "What is it? Is there any news on Christine?"

"No," I said. "But that is what I wanted to talk to you about. Your family has a lot of resources and connections, don't they?"

"Well, it's me, now," Raoul said. "I've sort of taken over the family business, so to speak."

"So, if I was to tell you about a very distinctive person, you would have a good chance of finding that person, right?"

"Right," Raoul said uncertainly. "But what does this have to do with Christine?"

"I know who kidnapped her," I said. And then I told him everything I knew.

So, first of all, I apologize if this chapter isn't very accurate. I have never gone through withdrawal, nor do I know anyone who has, so I kind of just had to go off of research for that. But some good news is that there will be lots of fluff coming up in the near future. Please, please, please review!