Erik was wrapped about me when I woke up, his head on my chest, the gaping hole where his nose was, separated only by the fabric of my nightgown. I should have been repulsed, but for some reason I didn't truly care. I felt rather numb to it.

I gently removed myself from him and went to wash my face, then I heard him turn over and gasp, sliding to his feet. He turned to me, his parchment skin turning pink with shame. The poor man...

"Thank you for staying with me," I told him softly, patting my face with a towel.

"Only because you were unwell," he replied, speaking to himself as much as I. "Not again, just because you were unwell. Poor Christine, wanting Erik for company."

"I want to go out into the garden," I said to change the subject.

He looked over at me, "You do?"

"Yes. I need to dress first."

"I'll leave, then."

I nodded, "Could you make breakfast?"

"Of course, my dear, do you want porridge again?"

"Yes, please."

He went over to the door.

"Wait," I told him. "I want a kiss."

"Oh..."

He came back over to me and planted a swift kiss on my forehead, then left, seeming confused about whether he should be happy or not. I heard his footsteps going down the stairs, and he seemed to have a small spring in his step, or perhaps I was imagining that.

I put on the lilac dress for him, but curled my hair and left it down in gold ringlets, as I had as a chorus girl. My pallor had not a trace of color to be found, and I wondered how Erik could find beauty in a ghost.

I put on thick stockings for my feet, which only had a dull soreness to them now. My body was covered in some sparse bruises from yesterday, but I felt no pain from them unless I pressed them in with my fingers, even though they looked horrible.

Once ready, I went downstairs and found Erik happily setting the table for one, and he pulled out my chair for me, but I requested to eat in the garden. Delighted at this, he took my bowl of porridge outside and had me sit on the swing. There was a spring breeze in the air, which carried the scent of the city, but was also perfumed with flowers, and it made the swing sway. I ate half of my breakfast, then set my forehead upon the side of the swing, shutting my eyes for a moment while Erik took my bowl inside.

I needed forever to think over what I was considering. How simple would it be to convince him? Or should I be deceitful about it?

But how could I manage it without wanting to die?

"Are you tired, my little Christine?" Erik asked me. "May I sit with you?"

I nodded, and he placed himself as far away from me as he could on the swing. Then I turned to him in confusion.

"Do you know where Blå is?" I asked.

"No." He replied. "Perhaps he ran away."

"Of course he did..."

On cue, a mew came from the bushes, and the blue-gray cat strutted over to the birdbath, concealed under it, waiting patiently. I had thought Erik had gotten rid of him.

"Could you feed him?" I asked gently.

"Of course."

He went back inside, and I rose to stroll about the garden. I was like a child with it, going about and plucking flowers for my hair or smiling weakly at the clouds above me. It was such a pretty world. How odd that there could be such beauty when I felt so much pain.

Erik came out with a bowl of cream and some dried fish for Blå, who feigned indifference at first, then as soon as Erik had returned to my side, began devouring his meal. I looked over at Erik, knowing I had many questions to pose.

"You asked me if I wanted to be a mother yesterday," I said quietly.

"I did." He replied.

"Why?"

"I've been thinking about it often."

"Do you pity me?"

"Women should be mothers." He said sadly. "But Erik can never give you a child..."

"Why not?"

He turned to me in disbelief, "Erik? G-give you a child? He is already so cruel, and you would have him do such a thing? The most horrible thing he could ever do? He would ruin two lives: yours and the poor child's. It could have his face, and you... you would not be pure anymore... I don't want to discuss this anymore, just let's sit. It's so lovely out here."

I set my forehead back on the side of the swing, disappointed. To be honest, I didn't believe there was that great a likelihood that child would look like him. If Erik had been born to normal parents, who had no similarity to him, then why should his child not be normal?

But I was not a geneticist. I was just a very desperate woman.

"The garden is lovely," I told him.

"You do like it, then?"

"It's such a lovely gift."

He was pleased with himself, "Do you want anything else added to it?"

"It's fine how it is."

"Good..." he nearly smiled. "It's nice to not have to wear a mask outside. The fences are so high no one can see... You're so brave to look at Erik without his mask. Sometimes he forgets his hideousness."

"Sometimes I forget. It doesn't bother me so much anymore."

Oh, it would bother me as long as I lived, but that was not a complete lie. It did not bother me as it had before.

He started to cry, and I let him sob into my skirts. I even placed my hand on his back a little.

"I love you..." he told me. "D-don't ever leave."

"I can't leave."

"Yes... yes, you can't. I'm not alone."

"Me neither."

"It was terrible to be alone," he moaned, twisting the fabric of my skirt. "Erik has never been with someone, and not someone who is kind to him, and brave, and so soft and pretty... You don't understand how much I love you. I wish... I wish I could give you whatever you wanted."

Then he was pensive for a moment, and he sat up from my lap.

"Is there anything you want that I can give you?" He asked.

"Nothing I can think of," I sighed.

He looked down at his lap, "You don't smile normally; it's pained. And you're still not well. Your eyes aren't bright, and you're pale. Very pale."

"Don't remind me of yesterday," I pleaded. "I'm done crying. I don't want to anymore."

"No, no, my love, forgive Erik, he didn't mean to bring it up. He wants to forget, too."

I nodded.

"Do you want to go anywhere?" He asked.

"Here is fine. It's peaceful."

"Yes. You'll be well soon if you stay out here enough... I could bring out chocolates for you."

"I'm not hungry," I replied.

We remained sitting there for the morning, and after I ate a bit of lunch, I decided to take a nap in my room. Erik told me he was going to work now, and that he trusted me to remain, as I had no one to see. This confused me a little, because there was still the Persian. I could see him... Unless...

Oh, I hadn't even given a thought to him! Had Erik killed him? Had I caused him to die just to see maman?

"What's wrong?" Erik pleaded, coming over to where I trembled on the bed.

"Don't be upset," I trembled out.

"Of course not, my love, what's wrong?"

"Don't yell at me."

"Never. Tell me what the matter is?"

"D-did you kill him?"

"Who?"

"Don't be upset," I sobbed.

"Why do you tremble so? Are you cold? Poor thing, who are you talking about?"

"The P-Persian."

"Erik doesn't kill people," he told me, patting my head. "Don't worry about the Persian man-"

"Where is he?"

"Don't worry about him!" He exclaimed, then he turned away, disgusted at himself for scaring me. "Erik didn't mean to yell... Don't talk about that man. It upsets Erik, for he hates the daroga, who followed him around and whom the siren refused to kill twice. She must not like Persians..."

"Okay," I told him, nodding and trying to believe him. "I'm going to sleep now, then."

"I'll bring you back something to cheer you up," he informed me.

I nodded again, but I really didn't need more chocolates.

For a while I simply stared at the translucent curtains around my bed, then I would drift into sleep, awaken, drift away again, and that would repeat. I didn't cry, thankfully, but I sang to myself at one point, for it was so terribly quiet. I wanted Erik to play his harp for me, which was still in the corner.

I realized I was hungry, so I shuffled downstairs to make myself some tea and have some bread as cheese. Then I realized Erik would not have the knives where I could find them, so I had to tear apart the bread with my hands, as well as the cheese.

I sat down on the sofa, eating slowly as one does when pensive and miserable. I tasted not a bit of it, so confused was I still about what I thought of, what I was considering.

That was when there came a knock at the door, and I turned to it, thinking I must have gone mad and was hearing things. I returned to my bread and cheese, then heard the knock again. I crept over to the door, wary, and found the Persian's servant outside, waiting on the doorstep.

I watched him knock a third time, then he gave up and put a note under the door. I hastened to read it, and sat down upon the sofa, opening up the white parchment to see what it held for me.

"Madame Christine Daaé,

I have been unable to visit you on account of being nearly drowned by Erik when I delayed him. But do not concern yourself with that, for I am nearly recovered due to Darius's efforts.

My condolences to you for the loss of your mother. She was a fine woman, selfless and concerned for you. I know Erik ought to be of no comfort to you at the moment. You must be in a very poor state, so take care not to do anything rash. When I am well, I will visit you. I wish you peace, child.

And to add, Erik is wealthy, as you know, for reasons I will not say, but not from murders. I assume it would make him more tolerable if you asked for a good many things for him to purchase for you.

Sincerely,

Monsieur Nadir Khan"

I read the note twice, then tore it to tiny pieces and scattered it about the garden, under the bushes, for I did not know where matches were.

Don't do anything rash...

Oh, Monsieur Nadir, you don't understand how rash of a thing I'm contemplating...

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Just fyi, there will be no detailed description if Christine goes through with this. The only reason this fic is rated T is for the suicide stuff and mentions of more mature stuff.

Apologies if you wanted to read that. And it's still IF she goes through with it.