A/N: So I've written another chapter. I can feel this story calling me back. I think I may be ready to continue with this. In fact, I've already started another chapter. It may be a bit slow in coming out as I still have a month of class left but stick around. I also just want to say that I really appreciate each and every review I've gotten on this story. I've written one other Phantom story and I got very attached to it. I have to admit that I've grown much more connected to this story. All of the feedback and the kind words have only helped me bond more strongly with these characters. This chapter has only been edited once and so I hope nothing is too out of place (namely, I'm hoping I've fixed all the typos and odd sentences).

I know, I know. Enough already. On with the story!

Chapter 38: Butterfly of the Night

"Take a look at my body, look at my hands

There's so much here that I don't understand."

-Natalie Merchant, "My Skin"

Elodie

Her breath came in ragged, heart-wrenching unevenness. There were no thoughts in her heart for any other soul. If there happened to be patrons of this shabby inn that were unfortunate enough to be in the rooms beside hers she didn't care. She had stopped caring. All that remained was hollowness, a pit that never felt full nor empty. It was just a pit and that was all that could be said about it.

Her tear-stained cheeks turned toward the moonlit window. With uncertain thoughts, she tried to remember anything but the path to that lonely house on the cliff-side. She thought of the train ride back to Paris in the morning. It was a dull and boring thought. She tried to focus on attending her parents' garden party at the end of the week. Still her brain wandered.

It was with a dreadful resolution that she pushed herself upward and sighed. There could be no harm in seeing, she thought inwardly as she bent down to retrieve her shoes. Logically, the place would be abandoned or, at the very least, occupied by some stranger. Erik would not be there, this much she felt she knew. There was ample proof that he disliked memories and Christine swore that he would miss her.

"He won't be there." She assured the empty room as she nicked her light cloak off of a chair and slipped out of the door.

The walk was long, much longer than she would have thought. After a while the path grew rocky and uneven. Bits of grass grew over it in places leaving one hopping from dirt patch to dirt patch. As the cottage grew larger in her eyes she noted that dark interiors. It appeared there were no lights on.

She paused to try to peer into the darkened kitchen but it was of no use. Her boots fought the overgrown weeds as she struggled to the front door. It was only then that her breath caught in her throat. A hand fluttered to her chest as if to calm her but each attempt to bring air into her lungs resulted in a strangled noise. The panic that had remained dormant until this moment was threatening to suffocate her.

She knelt before the door, squeezing her eyes closed and trying desperately to focus on anything but the lack of oxygen going in and out of her body.

Come on, Elodie. She thought miserably. No one is even here, you daft ninny. Slowly the sound of the ocean waves came back, the feel of breeze whispered against her flesh. She peeled her eyes open to stare at the threshold once more. Her fingers gripped the material from her skirts. Shakily, she rose once more and pressed a palm on the center of the salt-worn door.

It hadn't occurred to her to knock. The late hour hardly seemed a reason for her to consider such a thing. So sure was she that the house lay abandoned that she felt rather courageous and fool-hardy. In any case, the doorknob turned easily. The creak of the hinges pricked her ears. "Hello?" She called softly as she took a first step into the house, her heels clicking on the wooden floor.

Erik

He hadn't been asleep when he heard the front door creak open. For a moment he thought he had forgot to shut it properly. This was quickly replaced with the realization that he hadn't ventured outside in days, having remained cooped up in the cottage. He looked carefully past the kitchen entrance to the front room. Sure enough, the door had fallen open, the starry sky spilling onto his floor. The breath caught in his throat as he stealthily moved into the front room.

In the far corner, kneeling down by the unused lounge was a feminine form. The woman clearly could not see him and he took advantage of it to silently slide past her. Knowing it should upset him that someone had let themselves into his home, he found he didn't have the heart to care. So long as she didn't find him, he thought as he quietly shut the door to his bedroom.

The sound of the woman moving drifted through the wooden barrier. "Hello?" She called meekly. A frown formed on his lips as he turned as if he meant to exit the room, to get a good look at her. The oddity of the situation suddenly startled him. In the most unreasonable hour possible, a woman had walked, possibly from the village, to this barely visible cottage and entered without knowing if anyone was inside. He scowled as he thought of all the possible foolish teenage girls. A flicker of an image of an escaped inmate of the asylum jumped before his mind before he shoved it down with force. Such things raised painful remembrances.

Her footsteps were drawing nearer. He pushed his entire weight against the door and slid down to the floor. Above his head the doorknob turned. The woman tried to push her way in. "Hello?" The tremor in that voice was familiar. "Is anyone in there?" She sounded terrified yet she tried to push her way in again. His heart started to beat frantically as he tried to remember her voice. When had he forgotten the gentle melodies of her natural speech? Shaky hands were raised to his burning face. The flesh of each cheek was scalding and wet. It took great effort to sob silently but he managed, rather dreading the consequences of a much louder expression.

"Erik?"

The beating of his heart stopped for a moment. It felt like how he had always imagined death would feel. The color drained from his face easily as his head drew to its natural position. It wouldn't be possible, he knew that, but it had sounded like his name.

"Erik?"

Again, it pushed its way through the door. It was muffled but he was almost certain the woman on the other side was calling to him. It would be incredibly easy to stand and throw the door open. The sort of action it would take would be miniscule. If only he could muster the courage he might have. Instead he remained on the ground, frozen in a mixture of panic and confusion.

The woman was certainly not who he wanted her to be. The illogical desire of his heart was warping all reality. Elodie would not be on the other side of that door.

Her heels clicked away, allowing him to breathe properly once more. He did not fully move until he heard the front door close with a snap.

Elodie

Though it deeply bothered her that she had not been able to get into his bedroom, she brushed it aside and forced herself to move through the rough yard. Perhaps something had fallen in front of the door, she mused as she stopped long enough to rip her skirts from a determined nettle brush. The rest of the house looked unused. There was no reason to suspect that any other living soul resided in the cottage-except for the occasional rodent.

When she finally made her way to the path back to the village she paused once more. Her hands were frozen and purple in the moonlight. Shakily, she pulled her gloves out of a pocket and shoved them forcefully down the length of her fingers and palm. Her teeth chewed anxiously on her lower lip.

The urge to cast a backward glance was overpowering. Instinct was often something she resisted fully, believing her strength could always win out. Yet she had never been one to deny curiosity and as she remained unmoving, the urge turned into a curiosity. She noted that one didn't get such urges for the sake of them. Often there was a reason hiding behind them.

She turned carefully, prepared for disappointment.

Her eyes widened with a fear for her sanity. Her lips trembled fiercely. There, in the strong light of a full moon, was a figure. One she knew well. The pale of his shirt glowed in the light, his face equally bright. Her eyes raked the scope of his broad shoulders, of his unmasked face. Her heart quickly became lodged in her throat. Nearly unable to control a sob, she felt the tears preparing for a journey downward.

She remained unmoving. The fear that such a thing would banish this illusion forced her to stand perfectly still. The only thing moving her was the growing wind, which played with her cloak and her hair. If she moved, she thought, she would realize her folly. It was with a grave certainty that she concluded that seeing her mistake would break her heart surer than if she hadn't seen him at all. Part of her brain screamed out at her to run toward him, to trap him before he moved away. She doubted, at this point, her limbs would function at all. Too terrified was she of shattering the moment.

Erik

He had pushed his way out of the cottage with a growing urgency to catch one last glimpse of this intruder. The night sky would offer a bit of help. He nearly tripped when he took his first step into the yard and he inwardly cursed as he freed himself from the overgrown flora. Sure enough he could see her as he moved along the side wall of the cottage. She had nearly reached that untended path when she stopped.

His muscles froze instantly, responding to her. She was too far away for him to properly judge her identity. If only she would turn around, he thought aggressively. The thought fell upon him again and again as if thinking it enough would force it to happen. His lips parted against his will, prepared to call after her if she continued on.

The last bit of his sanity seemed ready to depart. There would be no caution now, he realized as a gentle sweat of nervousness broke out across his back and chest. He had rushed out, he had stopped in clear view, and he had remained unmasked. If this creature before him did indeed turn around, there would be no going back.

His heart stopped again as it had in his room when he noticed her shifting in his direction.

The pale of her face glistened dangerously like a star. Even at this distance he could trace every curve, every turn. He knew the contours of this face well. She froze like a startled deer, her large eyes widened beyond their capacity. Suddenly everything about his being ceased to matter. The only reason to exist would be to watch her.

Did she know she was trembling? Her body swayed in the wind, as if she would be carried away. If she did get carried away, he decided, he would chase her. Even if she were not real, he would chase her.

Her hands were clutching each other as if she could save herself from some untimely fate. Her lower lip disappeared into her mouth as she bit it noticeably. What would she be seeing?

It was then, after realizing that she was in fact seeing him, that his heart spluttered back into movement. It increased rapidly as he noted the air pressing against his bare face. He suddenly needed action. One of them needed to move, to make that decision. Positive it wouldn't be him, he remained stark still.

Praying had never worked before but he now did so fervently in the hopes of causing some change, in moving her in some way. He could not be the first to move. Her name was playing on his lips, threatening to tumble out. If only she would move, he thought anxiously.

Elodie

It was an odd thing to remember but it pressed down on her brain, smothering all thought. It had been so long ago. Of all the nights she could remember this one bit through the rest. The waking in the middle of the night had startled, just as standing in the moonlight now frightened her.

She had remained still for a moment, merely listening to the indistinct sounds that fought with the foggy sleep clouding her mind. Slowly, it had dawned on her that someone was sobbing. Not just someone. Erik remained removed from her, on the other side of a wooden door. He was crying. It was a confusing moment as she tried to align this fact with the image of Erik she had indulged in so drastically.

Her heart ached painfully as his sobs called her, pulled her from the bed. She had gone to him, sensing his need of something. Her attempts to comfort him had seemed rather dull but he had eventually accepted her close proximity. Her voice echoed now in the space between them.

"I starve myself. I don't know why." A deep yearning stole over her. Never had she wanted to be understood to the degree she wanted to be now. Beside her, Erik remained unmoving and silent.

Elodie blinked, trying to keep past and present separate.

Her thin hand moved off of his powerful knee. She felt the need to flee, her attempts being rather pointless.

She closed her eyes against the sight of Erik so far from her.

"I love a woman who will not have me." His deep voice sounded clearly in her head. She could never forget that voice, though she had tried in the many months that had passed since she had last seen him. Her memories were crisp. "I offered her my world, my heart, and my soul. It was not much, I knew, but my love was strong." He had been speaking of Christine.

It seemed so long ago. The events that had passed since that night and this were insurmountable. A sorrow smothered her until she opened her eyes. He still stood, looking back at her. There was no use pretending that she could overcome it, overcome a lifetime of painful memories. There was no use pretending she could be anything different than what she was. In her heart, she knew that he must know that too.

Why had she come here? The question bubbled to the forefront of her frenzied thoughts. It had been out a foolish desire to fix a fracture, to repair something irreparable. She could not bridge the gap between them. Even now, she could not force herself into action. She could not cross the hurtles that would allow her to touch him again, to feel his powerful heart beating. She knew if she tried she would fall, she would continue falling until he grew tired of waiting. Had she come here merely to freshen the pain in his eyes, a pain so palpable that she could feel it?

The tears were falling freely now.

"I'm sorry, Erik." She whispered. He finally shifted, clearly having heard her attempt at speech. "I'm sorry for everything, Erik." She called louder, feeling a strength that had hidden from her for so long. The apology seemed to soothe her consciousness. She breathed in the air, feeling the freedom mingle with the salt. He made to step forward. "I wish I had known how to say that much sooner." She called as if to stop his steps. If he came to her she would break. If his body tried to recover hers, she would revert back.

She could not go back. Going back had caused too much pain. She had been witness to this before. There was a certainty in her decision as she remembered the hurt in his eyes, the desperation she had once seen when he had cried over Christine. She could not bear to think of him wasting such precious things on her. "I never meant to hurt you." She called again, her tongue flowing freely. "I hope you believe that."

With trembling limbs, Elodie did the first thing she had ever been truly proud of. She turned and started to walk away.