"Go out and do something. It isn't your room that's a prison, it's yourself."

Sylvia Plath

Rene was getting to him… under his skin and into his thoughts almost constantly. He wondered if this was what it was like to parent, or if it was just like this to have someone genuinely wish friendship upon you? To care for someone who cared about you in the same fashion. He would be happy to see her back to a healthy lifestyle when he released her, and maybe it wouldn't be too much to ask for her to write him or something of the kind. But of course… that would require living long enough for her to write. Maybe living wasn't so bad of an idea either.

Madame Rene de Ranaud had promised him that she would keep in contact with him after she was deemed fit enough to go home. If she followed through, well… this spark of motivation was enough to spur Erik into the idea that death might not be his only option.

There was, after all, music to be written, letters to receive, and an opera to run once it was back up again. Though the idea of anyone else running it besides himself was appalling, he would do what he deemed necessary.

Then there was the problem of his angel coming to bury him when the announcement of his death was supposed to come. Did he merely never announce it, or did he do so and make sure that someone sent the message he no longer cared for her to obey his last command to her? It was a predicament, that was for certain, but he didn't entirely care what she thought of him any longer… unless it might be love, but Erik knew that she certainly did not love him in a way he wanted her to.

The best course of action was to merely fake his death and send Nadir with some type of note, or at least in his handwriting, to detail why exactly she should not return to bury him. It would not do good for either of them to see one-another alive, for he did not need his heart shattered again.

This would force him to interact with the Daroga even more, but his handler would probably be around anyways to make sure his mischief did not continue.

It was late evening now, and his promise of a future was causing the cob webs to come off his brain like a wild wind swept through the catacombs and removed them of all the spiders dwelling within. He had one hand in the other, swiping his thumb over his knuckles mindlessly, every intention in the world to come up with a better way of life for himself.

If only he didn't have a bounty on his head.

A life in the shadows wasn't too bad for Erik, especially if he was going to receive letters from someone considered a friend to him.

Ever since she'd kissed his knuckles earlier in the day, he could not help but admire her for her courage. Rene, and that is what he'd taken to finally calling her, was a woman unlike any other he had witnessed. Not cruel nor timid, and she had her own share of experiences which would horrify any normal human, let alone himself. Addressing her as a friend was the highest honor Erik had been given in his life, bar a few he seldom liked to think on.

She seemed to be getting better as well, for the rest of her day went without incident. Every minute of recovery was important, as Erik had stake now in her healing.

Not that he hadn't cared before, for Erik had, it was just that his motivations were almost never without a purpose, and creating a purpose spurred him on more errantly. Friendship had never been on his list of things to accomplish in his life thinking it impossible, but then again neither had love. Which isn't to say he accomplished it, but he had gotten as close as ever.

Feeling his knuckles a final time, Erik reached up to place his hands on his organ, determined to sleep a little that evening, but wanting the melodies in his head to not be stuck there any longer.

They were… something else entirely that evening. Nothing burned or saddened, but when he was caught in an updrift, bringing a smile to his face, he tore it down. Happy was a construct that was created by the oblivious to the continuous plight of the world, yet he knew better. Maybe there was currently a pleasant moment in his life, but there were many things to sort through over the next few days which would require a lot of gruelling effort on his part.

Staying alive wasn't always easy.

Not entirely sure of when he retired to his bed, Erik was brutally aware of the next episode of sickness Rene was undergoing.

He was able to muster up his pocketwatch and relight a candle in the darkness to discover that it was at least a little bit later than the last time. Promptly, he rushed to her, his haze of a resting period oddly long for him. Sleep clung to his bones in a way he didn't care for at all, and it wasn't easy to shake off either.

Still, he was alert and ready to help when he arrived at the Madame's room, rushing through the actual room and heading into the bath-room where he found her hunched over and very sick.

"Another bad morning?" He asked, kneeling to the floor.

He hesitated before touching her considering she looked so pale when she turned to him.

"Yes. I always hate getting sick."

Rene's voice was weak, her brown hair tucked into a ribbon so he had no real use besides a comforting presence. If one could even consider his presence comforting that is. She did seem to smile, however poorly.

"It is never a pleasant experience."

Erik had given way to the contents in his stomach far too many times to count.

Rene shook her head and turned her back on him.

Something in him compelled him to comfort her in some way. Before it had been no problem considering his detachment from her and the amount of formal clothes she was wearing before, but now that they were friends he hoped not to do anything to ruin such a relationship. And she was wearing a thin sleeping gown, her back far less covered than before. Friendships were fragile things, or so Erik thought, so it was hard for him to chance ruining it.

Deciding to act now and worry later, he put his hand on her back and rubbed it gently through the rest of her morning episode. Rene eventually felt much better and asked for breakfast, to which he happily agreed to make for them both.

He sprinted from the room to give her time to change into appropriate day clothes, choosing to focus on their meals. It had only been a little bit, but he would need to go to the surface again and acquire things necessary to keep making her thorough meals.

Halfway through most of the preparations, she came into the kitchen and helped him finish everything, saying she was well enough now to stand.

"How is your hand, by the way?"

He felt a fool for forgetting to ask earlier, but there had been many things going on in the past day it was hard to not.

"Just fine. The skin is a little tight," she said.

Then, without much thought, she reached for his hand and placed his fingers on her palm, allowing him to feel the evidence of a burn for his own. He focused on it, too, wanting to make sure it was actually doing alright, and he found the progress satisfactory.

Though his fingers felt strange going over such skin again… like the memory of her lips on his knuckles, his hands instinctively going back to rub at them.

"It feels as though it will be fine, Rene. Why don't you sit now?"

"I can finish helping, Erik. Why don't I grab the dishes?"

"Please," he said, watching her smile at having something to do. He supposed that if she wanted to be useful he wouldn't deny the aid.

They sat down for breakfast in silence.

Eventually, with only the plinking of metal and china, Erik spoke up.

"What would you say if I said I wanted to remain alive?"

Rene looked at him briefly.

"I would be happy to hear it. I'm unnerved by your conviction for death. It's sad. Though you would have to want more to impress me, Erik."

"Sad? And I'm not trying to impress," he protested, but she only huffed.

"Yes, well, I would hate to see you care for me, to put in all that effort, and then end your life. It would feel like I used you."

"Oh," Erik said, his food forgotten as he looked at her intensely. His eyes were focused on her now, attempting to read more of what she wasn't saying. "Well, more like I would have used you. A final ditch effort at a good deed to secure a mildly pleasant afterlife."

"Do you believe in that?" she wondered.

"There are days I curse God for allowing me to live, and days when I feel like God, so it depends, really."

She laughed at him, putting down her fork and shifting towards him slightly.

"Was it the opera that made you feel like God?"

"Yes, in fact. To be in control of such an empire, and an empire of music no less. Music is the one gift I was given from birth, and while the rest of my life had lacked in any meaningful way, music had been the blood in my body since childhood."

"Intriguing... would you ever consider running the opera house yourself? Face to face with everyone?"

"No," Erik answered immediately, the idea alluring but impossible.

"But why not?"

"They would be horrified! Erik would horrify them, Rene. No one is as good as you, especially those people who flaunt their features on the stage as they do. I could fake it with a mask, of course, but nothing would ever erase the other unsightly features of me. I have gone as myself in that domain, the reception is poor."

His companion cringed, and Erik felt bad for being so blunt, but it was true. The world did not like him no matter what.

"What about a compromise? No one needs to have you blend in perfectly, and if you're worried about your face so much, simply Instead of the impassive full mask you were known to wear… what about one carved out around your lips and chin? I mean… your lips are normal if not a little thin. And you have a very strong chin."

Normal had never been a descriptive word used for him, but Erik decided to entertain her for a moment.

"And what of the charges on my head? The mask would make it obvious who I was. I would be hung before I could make a single decision… assuming I even have the money to buy the opera house."

"Extortion is one of your crimes, Erik," Rene reminded him with a smirk, like she knew all.

"Yes, well then I still have those against me currently. None of the men who charged me would care at all to see me reign over the opera let alone live."

He was certain of this if not anything else. The world hated him… but Erik didn't care about the world. He cared about music and it's execution, not the people surrounding it. Too bad it wasn't enough for everyone.

"What if I said I could convince them to drop the charges on you?"

Looking up at Rene without a shred of decency, his startled and doubtful look had to be plain on his face. Surely she was kidding. No one had that high of friends in that high of places.

"And how would you manage that, Madame?"

Leaning back and sighing, Rene looked at him with a steady gaze.

"When I leave here, Erik, but only when I leave here, I will get them to drop the charges on you. The new Comte de Chagny owes me favor."

Hearing the name grated on Erik, knowing that the title would be attached to his angel as well. It wasn't a bone-crushing amount of resentment, but that boy was idiotic at best and poorly suited to run anything of a large manor. It was partially Erik's fault he earned the title, however, and as usual, he had no one to blame but himself.

"Is that a threat, Rene?"

She scoffed, "No… merely a promise. If I don't leave here… well, I will, so it doesn't matter."

Erik went to speak, but he was not allowed as she stood up and began to clean the area of their meal which had gone untouched for quite some time now. No eye-contact was made, and he was left feeling very perplexed yet also enthralled by the idea he might one day be running the opera all by himself.

A true job and investment instead of all the back alley ways he had made money up until that point.

The opera would be completely new under his guise, but he could not place all his money on one woman who was bustling around his kitchen and a recovering drunk. No, he could not bet on it.

But, he could do a little harmless hoping. Hoping evaded him more often than not due to the constant state of being let down. Now more than ever, Erik needed to make sure his songbird did not come anywhere near the opera. If he was to earn the favor owed to Rene by de Chagny, then he would make sure they never had to see him again. What a way for his beloved to find out he was alive.

She needed a warning, though, and that was where Nadir came in, Erik rushing off to his room where he busied himself with scribbling and plans that may never come to fruition, missing the sounds of soft cries coming from his kitchen.

A/N: This is at the end because I wanted to comment on how Erik finally gave in and realized that maybe death isn't exactly his only option. He wants letters from Rene... and to culminate more music. Nothing wrong with that :)