A/N: I know it's been a little over a week since I last posted, so it means I'm overdue for another installment. Here it is.

I struggled to carry Raoul to the boat as Erik seemed to have almost no problem with the Persian. It's easy to forget that Erik is over fifty when he displays that kind of strength.

"No," Erik said once I had helped Raoul in to the boat.

"What do you mean no?" I asked in surprise. "You need someone to help you move them once you get to the other side. It's stupid to go only to come back for the other one. Unless….You only plan on taking one of them away…"

"You are a smart girl, aren't you," he said with a small smirk as he pushed off in the boat.

"Dammit! Erik!" I yelled, coming to a sudden stop at the end of the shore. "Get your ass back here! I am not done fucking swearing at you, bastard!" It didn't matter. Erik wasn't about to have any kind of conversation with me. He was gone, and he had left me at the house with Christine. I stormed back and slammed the door behind me. I knew what Erik was planning. Only the Persian was leaving. Raoul was staying some where in the Opera house, and he didn't want either Christine or I to know where. Christine started when I slammed the door to the house, and she appeared in the doorway to the entryway as a timid mouse, afraid it was Erik, yet ready to please him. I didn't notice her at first, I was so furious at Erik. I let out a furious scream and chucked a vase across the room. Christine let out a frightened yell and shrunk back. I turned my furious gaze to her. I yelled some more obscene things at her that I'm not going to repeat here and chucked something else that was on an endtable at her, and she disappeared back into the house. I didn't see her again. I think she was more afraid of me at that point than she was of Erik. I didn't mind. It meant I didn't have to deal with her at all. I stayed in the library, buried in a book, until Erik returned.

"You are a fucking moron," I huffed, snapping my book shut when Erik finally returned.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," he said coolly.

"Sweetie," I said in disbelief, raising an eyebrow, "have you thought about this—I mean actually thought about this?" I called him 'sweetie' unconsciously. I didn't use to call people 'sweetie'—not until college. My friends' habits rubbed off on me.

"Of course. Thoroughly."

"No, I mean seriously thought about this? You lock Raoul up for the rest of his miserable life instead of letting him go, and Christine finds out. What do you suppose happens?"

"Christine will never find out what really happened to him, and he will never trouble us again."

"Let's find out." I gave an angry, mocking smile and stood. "Christine!"

"You wouldn't dare." Erik's eyes narrowed behind his mask, and his voice became dangerous.

"Watch me. Christine!"

Erik was suddenly in front of me, his boney hand wrapped around my throat. "Hold your tongue, girl…" he growled.

"Or what? You'll kill me, too? I thought you were done killing. Or will it just be one more time? Will it always be one more time. Just once more. This once won't hurt. She won't know this once. Just once more, and everything will be fine after this. Where do you draw the line, Erik? When is once more once too many? When does it start becoming wrong? You'll stop tomorrow, right? Well guess what. Tomorrow never comes," I spat. "You say tomorrow, but once tomorrow gets here, it's today, and tomorrow is still a day away. You want to make a change, do it today! Now! No more putting it off, Erik."

Erik growled at me, but I held my ground, glaring at him. What did I really have to lose, after all? And he retreated a few steps before he turned and stalked off.

I can honestly say I don't know what happened next. I stayed in the library and let Erik have some time with his new wife. It wasn't until I heard a third voice that I ventured out of the library. As I turned a corner in the hallway, I stopped. Raoul was hugging Christine tightly to his chest, and Erik was just disappearing out of the room.

"Come," I said, gently, as I walked towards the couple. "I will take you to the boat, and you may leave."

They started at the sound of my voice, pulling apart slightly, but followed me to the shore and the boat. Raoul seemed surprised when I didn't get in to the boat as well.

"The monster has no control over you," he said, pleading for me to get in with them. "You need not stay here any longer, a slave to the monster's whim, a prisoner."

"He is not a monster," I said calmly, almost sadly, "and I am not a prisoner. I stay because he is my friend. Please, go. The gate to the road is unlocked. Go, and forget this place even exists."

I don't remember if he called after me or not. I'm almost positive Christine didn't. I just know I walked back to the house. Once inside, I followed the sound of sobbing to Erik's room. I found him there, curled in a corner, crying so violently and with such emotion that I felt my heart shatter and the pieces jammed in my throat. Normally, I show very little empathy towards anyone, but with Erik-oh! with Erik, I wanted to cry with him-hold him and cry. Yes, he needed me. But he needed me sane, not hysterical, and so I had to get a hold of myself. I breathed deeply, willing myself to calm down, and I walked over to him.

"Erik," I said, warning him of my presence. His body twitched in a spasm. I sat down beside him, my back against the wall. "Erik." My voice was gentle, full of care and worry. "I'm still here, Erik. I'm not going to leave you." He looked up, and as our eyes met, all I saw was a friend whose heart had been stepped on and crushed by someone who could never love him back. I reached out, putting my hand on his shoulder. "I'm still here." He let out a long, death-like moan and collapsed onto me. He buried his face in my chest, his already tear-stained face and the new rivers of tears thoroughly soaking my blouse. I gently wrapped my arms around his violently shaking skeletal frame and gently stroked his head. "I know it hurts. I know. Go ahead and cry. Let it all out. I'm still here. I know it hurts bad. Go ahead and cry. I'm gonna stay right here. I'm not going to leave you."

"Down a cold and darkened hallway, a doctor stood alone

with a young and frightened father, who knew something was wrong.

He said, "Son, this isn't easy, but we really need to talk."

So he took the young man's arm, and they began to walk.

He said, "Your wife is finally sleeping.

She just needs to be alone right now.

And the baby, well, she's healthy,

but there's something you should know.

Son, she's slightly less than perfect.

There was nothing we could do.

So before you go to see her,

I thought I'd talk to you."

"As the young man held the warm and sleeping bundle to his chest,

he saw the imperfections, and though he tried his best,

he couldn't stop the tears from falling as he held his little girl.

In a warm and trembling voice, he softly said these words—

"You're beautiful in every way.

So beautiful. How I've waited for this day.

If the world was offered to me,

I just couldn't make the trade.

'Cause you're beautiful."

"It's amazing how some things matter,

And some things don't

When seen through the eyes….of love."

"How are you doing, Erik?" I asked, squatting beside his bench. He looked at me with those same sad eyes that he's had for the past three weeks, but then went back to his music, his slender fingers beginning to caress the keys again. I put my hands on top of his, stilling them. He flinched. "Just stop for a little while. You need to take a break. Let me make you something to eat." I brushed the back of my fingertips against the hollow of his cheek. "Please."

A tremor coursed through his body. "Why are you so good to me?"

"Someone has to," I said as he got up and stumbled to the door.

"Doesn't matter," he wheezed. "I don't want anything."

"Erik!" He is an exasperating man, and I ran to him and grabbed his arm—partly to keep him from leaving and partly to support him while he stood, grasping the doorframe. "Erik, please don't do this."

"Get off of me!" He pushed me back with more strength and force than I thought he had left in his now ghastly skeletal body. I stumbled back into the room, tripped on the hem of my skirt, and fell on my ass. "I don't want your pity!" I could feel his eyes burning through me, but when I looked up, he was gone.

"Erik!" I scrambled to my feet, stepping on the back of my skirt with every step. (I had to fix it as soon as I was actually standing. It's the only thing I don't like about long skirts.) I made it to the door finally and I found him sitting on the couch, out of breath. "Erik." I sat on my feet sideways on the couch, facing him, one arm on the back of the couch, the other on my lap. "If you don't want it, then I won't give it. I'm not good at it anyways. But I'm worried about you. I don't want to see you die."

"Then leave," he said gruffly.

"Damn it. That's not what I mean. I don't want you to die." I started to hyperventilate as I spoke, trying to get my emotions back under control. I had to blink rapidly so my eyes wouldn't mist over and the tears wouldn't escape. I had been dreading this since Erik had brought Christine down here. I knew this was going to happen. I knew she was going to leave him, and he was determined to die of heartbreak. And I couldn't do anything to change it. I wanted to. God! I wanted to. But I couldn't. I couldn't…

I was tired of being the one in control. I didn't want to be in control anymore. I wanted to cry. I wanted to collapse into Erik and cry—like he had done to me three weeks ago. But I couldn't.

"Why?" He turned sharply towards me. "Because you need me alive? Because you can't figure out how to get home? You need me to feed and clothe y—"

I couldn't stand it any more. I shut up his sarcastic ramblings by encasing his lips with my own. I hadn't been able to kiss him before without guilt—not with Christine around. I'm sure most, if not all, you girls know what I'm talking about. The guy you have a crush on has a girlfriend, and if you try to break up their relationship, you'll never get your crush. Sure there was that one kiss that one night, but that was in the heat of the moment and things were extremely awkward the next day. But now I could kiss him—and kiss him I did.

"That's why," I softly said, breaking away gently.

Erik sat there stunned. Then, without a word, he got up and went back into his room, locking his door behind him.

I sat on the couch still. I couldn't believe it. I didn't know what to have actually expected from him, but it was obviously not that. I turned and fell onto the couch. The cushion was only slightly warmer where Erik had just been sitting. I tried to think of something to do, but my mind blanked on me. Nothing seemed right. So that's what I did. I did nothing. Soon a song came into my head that seemed right—even if Erik couldn't hear it—and I started singing it.

"You fill up my senses like a night in a forest
Like the mountains in springtime, like a walk in the rain
Like a storm in the desert, like a sleepy blue ocean
You fill up my senses, come fill me again.

Come let me love you, let me give my life to you
Let me drown in your laughter, let me die in your arms
Let me lay down beside you, let me always be with you
Come let me love you, come love me again."

I hummed the next two and a half lines of the song, like I remembered John Denver doing on my CDs when he sang it. Just as I started singing again, I heard Erik open his door, but I couldn't see him from where I was lying.

"...Let me give my life to you
Come let me love you, come love me again.

You fill up my senses like a night in a forest
Like the mountains in springtime, like a walk in the rain
Like a storm in the desert, like a sleepy blue ocean
You fill up my senses, come fill me again."

"Another one of your songs by John Denver?" Erik asked in a gentle voice.

I nodded. "Yep."

"You know, you're a very strange girl for eighteenth century France." I saw him in my peripheral vision sit down on the arm of the couch by my feet.

"Twenty-first century America, too," I said with a small smile.

Erik paused, trying to figure out what to say. "Why are you still here?"

I scooted back on the couch, sitting up and crossing my legs in front of me. "I don't know. I don't even know why I was dropped here in the first place, or if I can get back home. Why did I choose to stay?" I bit my lip, thinking. I looked at Erik in the eyes. "Because I feel like I belong here, with you. I don't want to be anywhere else. If I could go home, I don't know if I'd want to if I couldn't bring you with me."

Erik laughed dryly. "Can you honestly see me in your time?"

I smiled. "Yes. There are a lot of jobs in my time that you don't need to leave the house for-if you didn't want to. Besides, you'd fit in nicely with my group of friends."

"So you've told me."

"Yeah, well..."

"Why here?" He spread his arms to encompass and include his whole house. "Why would you want to be down here?"

"Because it's away from people. Because I'm not a people person. I like the dark and quiet. I want to be left alone so I can write my stories. Getting published was a dream for me so I could get enough money to move away from people and not deal with them so I could write in peace." I smiled. "Most of my stuff was never meant for publication. I just wrote it for me. Besides," my smile broadened and I started to blush, "you're down here. I really like being with you. You make me feel safe. You are kind and thoughtful-when you're not busy being a jerk. And I really like listening to your music."

Erik leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes in thought. "You really are a strange girl," he said finally. "You really wouldn't miss the surface at all?"

"The city? No. The forests? Yes. They afford their own peace and beauty. I wouldn't mind going up just to get lost in them once in a while."

Erik looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "You really are strange."

"But in a good way."

He hesitated before asking me his next question. "May I try something?"

I must admit, I was a bit confused. Why ask my permission? "Sure. What is it?"

He hesitated again. "Could you...stand up? ...Please?"

I stood up, puzzled, and Erik stood with me. He hesitated yet again, but walked over to me. He gently cupped my chin with his fingers and tilted my chin a bit higher, locking our gazes. And then he kissed me.

Shame-ed Begging: Thanks for reading and keeping up! I've got two more installments, a last word and a section that the foreword is signed by Erik himself. Please, keep reading and giving me reviews! Reviews are much appreciated and loved!