A/N: Maybe this chapter's quote tells you something, idk. Maybe not! Regardless, I moved through time a little bit in the beginning of this chapter. I could have written some of the stuff that went on in between, but I felt like it just would have been filler and pretty boring, and I don't like fillers! I think you might enjoy this though!

"Where could I rest but in your hurricane?"

Erica Jong, Insomnia & Poetry

Rene did not get sick the next morning, and Erik saw this as very good news. She was coming along well, and while she expressed that she still craved the drink, he had high hopes that she would be able to return to her daily life without much of a concern for it taking her over.

They had danced again, but this time he had not been shy or reserved about it. Happily, he had taken her waist and hummed a tune while she laughed and smiled up at him, towering over her in height. She was a particularly small woman, but there was more to her than anyone Erik had ever known. The way she unashamedly looked at him, with nothing on her face but her own thoughts, truly grasped his attention in a way that he did not think possible. When he was with her, he was able to forget the past pain of his unrequited love.

It was a feat he thought might never come, but Erik was happy without his angel of music. His music still came to him, his fingers still played with great expertise, and the tunes were no longer those of burning passion and vengeful remorse. No, the music was content.

His obsession with running the opera had definitely taken over a turn that he was not expecting, nor did he want to allow it be so strong. Hope was a deceitful thing, and Erik wanted nothing more than to crush his own soul for daring to dream that the public might accept him for the music he was going to produce.

Nadir had been amenable to the idea of him continuing to live. So for once the Daroga had not disappointed Erik which was a miracle in and of itself.

They were communicating in detail day by day, and suddenly he was equally as involved in the plan as Rene was. She had no real input besides her getting the charges lifted from his head, but Nadir was faceting a new identity for him, something concrete and worthy enough to buy an opera house with all the money he had stored away from years of payments.

The idea that this was happening… could happen, spurred Erik into such movement, he did not notice Rene was becoming morose as time wore on. She would refuse to finish meals, and eventually, there was no excitement in dancing with him, and so of course Erik believed he had begun to do something wrong.

It was always his fault, was it not? Every time something came within his reach, he was able to throw the whole thing down like the the Chandelier that had once hung in the theater. Only as a prospective owner did he realize how annoying and how much of a nuisance his dropping it had been. No one would ever dare do that to him were it come down to it.

The idea that someone else might come to haunt and threaten his opera after owning it himself was quite the unruly idea. It unsettled his stomach, but not as much as Rene's poor behavior.

He had stopped asking her to dance by the end of a week in his home, yet a few days later, he could no longer bare to look at her long face. It was a depressing sight, and exciting things were happening in their world! She could come to the opera as much as she wanted when he owned it, not a franc to be paid from her!

Erik wanted to tell her this, as he had no idea what would sadden her about getting healthier. And while there was no sun in the catacombs, he could see her bruise-tainted skin returning to a normal hue of pink and tan. She should be happy to be healing so thoroughly.

This particular evening, he was going through operas and doing work for his anticipated job while she was on the sofa, lying down in her usual spot. On her side, with a hand on her stomach for the queasiness she so often expressed, Rene closed her eyes occasionally if it came on too strong, but otherwise she watched the fire burn on.

She would stare at it for hours if he did not distract her.

"Rene… you must tell me what is wrong. I can hardly bear to see you like this."

Closing her eyes, she pursed her lips as though he'd physically pained her.

Erik felt helpless.

He so rarely had such a little grasp on things going on in his domain that he practically itched to figure out her ailments. She had been more up beat when she was skinny and getting sick every hour. While occasionally she still did fall prey to a little sickness, he could tell it had mostly subsided. Any day now she would leave, and Erik wanted her to be happy before she did that! In fact, she should be happy to return to the rest of the world.

"Is it something I have done?"

"No," she answered him quickly, too quickly as he sat up straight like a scorned child. "You have done nothing, Erik."

There was nothing else to say, for he believed her. He just didn't know how much he believed her, really.

He moved his things around and got up from his work, not caring for any of it seeing the low mood she was in while tucked into the cushions of his couch under the blanket she had claimed as hers upon her very arrival.

"Rene," he commanded, whispering so as to not startle her when he stood before her and reached out a hand to her.

He tried to ignore the spindly nature of his body, beginning to think she might be sick just looking at him, but it hadn't bothered her before.

Looking at him from her cocoon, Rene shook her head and sat up.

"I don't feel like dancing, Erik."

"I didn't the first time you made me dance, either, so why not take the same chance I did? It might cheer you up."

She scoffed at hearing her own words against her, and with a resigned grin, she reached up and took both his hands.

Pulling her from the couch, they easily fell into a position they had not been in for three days.

Rene was a very beautiful woman, and as her friend, Erik thought it was his right to think so. There were many wonderful aspects about her, and if she couldn't find another husband out there in the world, then they were imbeciles, all of them. He only wished the best for her, wanting her to be happy and healthy, instead of one or the other like she was currently doing. Her highest point of both had probably been their first dance, where she'd comforted him and kissed his knuckles.

She had not bestowed any more affections like that upon him, but he did not expect it to be so either.

"Now tell me what is wrong?"

They were close, and their bodies were pressed up against one-another. Erik could feel the weight she had gained on her waist, his pride taking form in a smile while she concocted an answer in her mind. It was as if he could hear the turning going on in there.

"Have you ever tried to convince yourself out of feeling something, Erik?"

Unsure of what she meant, he asked for her to elaborate.

"What I mean is, say with your last… affair-" an overstatement if Erik had ever heard one- "Did you try to reason your way out of loving her?"

He understood now.

There were a million times Erik had thought what he was doing was wrong while teaching her for those few months, but he could pin down even more times when a part of him argued he did not deserve her or that it was just plain wrong for a monster like him to love an angel like her.

"Many times."

They turned, and she placed her head on his chest, shifting about to the less formal way of dancing where her arms went around his neck and his on her waist entirely. It was slightly unnerving for him to allow her so close to him, the smell of death which still clung to his body prominent to her reflex to suddenly become sick.

Rene did not let go, nor did she elaborate.

"So what plagues you, Madame de Renaud?"

It was more of a joke to say that to her now, but she did not laugh this time. In fact… he had not heard her laugh in what felt like a while beyond the hollow type of giggle that came with one of the Daroga's poor play on words.

"Erik, how long have I been here?"

Without a moment to spare he said, "Almost a fortnight. Thirteen days."

"I am a fool," she cried in return, removing herself from him and running towards the sofa where she collapsed over the back into tears.

It was very dramatic and unfitting of a woman with such money and background, but he pitied her less so while his arms felt cold and empty.

Following behind in a sad stupor, Erik reached to press a hand to her head, knowing she liked it when she was sick. How different could a fit of tears be?

"Rene, you must tell me what is happening before I think I have caused you these problems."

She continued to cry, and Erik ran through a million things in his brain for what could be causing her so much strife. It had to be something related to this place, for she had not been up to the surface since she arrived in his home… the surface.

Erik let out a grieving sound as he stumbled back.

"You feel as though you have become a prisoner, do you not?" His words were not kind as he began to pace out his frustrations, arm gesturing like an upset child while he cursed himself for being so ignorant. "I have held you here for too long and now you resent Erik! All I did was help you, you ungrateful chit! Your crying will do no good, for Erik will let you up when you are fully capable of going, and not a moment sooner!"

Before he could blink she was coming up to him, equally as angry as he felt.

"How dare you?" Her words leaked from her mouth like venom dripping from a snake's fangs, ready to pounce on its prey. "How dare you assume I no longer want to be here when that is the exact opposite of my problem! I have spent the most fulfilling fortnight of my entire life here with you, Erik, and for you to accuse me of wanting to leave! God, you are even more dense than I originally thought you!"

She turned from him, wiping at her eyes if her hands going up to her face was any indication.

Erik felt thrashed, a familiar sensation, but for some reason this hurt more than the physical kind.

So she wasn't mad at him as a captor, then what was biting her? It wasn't like she wanted to stay, was it? That might have been her insinuation, but no one wanted to stay with Erik, not even his own mother.

"Then what?" he bid gently. "What is it that turns your happy disposition so sad?"

Turning, and facing him with a height that came only from her sudden confidence, Rene spoke to him plainly. "You."

"And what has Erik done?"

She deflated, looking slightly frustrated yet something glimmered in her eyes beyond that passive front.

"You have taken me in when I didn't deserve to be alive," she told him with a smile coming onto her features, though it did not reach any further than the upturn of her lips. "You nursed me back to some semblance of health. You danced with me."

Then, she put her hands on his chest and gently splayed them there. He briefly thought she meant to dance, but he was so confused that he paid attention only to the things she was saying, hands dead at his sides.

"You make beautiful music, even only in a hum, and I have fallen asleep nearly every evening with melodies in my head that prove to me there will be new life once again in this opera when I convince Raoul to let you free of the charges. You cook for me. You hold me when we dance."

Rene looked up at him, and he couldn't help but meet her gaze, for he was shaking before her at the odd contact she provided. If he had been any other man, he might have assumed she was this close because she wanted to be. Having so little interaction with a woman besides the one who tore apart his heart made anything like this terrifying.

"And, God, Erik, I thought it was just that you were being kind, and I had not known kindness in so long, but even in your impassive moments when you are more concerned about your opera than anything else on the planet, I know that I love you."

The declaration nearly made him faint, for he would be sad as well if he were in her place and loved him like she claimed to do. But it couldn't be true. No one had ever loved him all his life, and someone had long ago put out his heart that should have made him capable of it.

"You can't-"

"And yet I do," she said with a conviction he had never heard from her before.

Then, as if he had not already been suffering from shortness of breath and a thrusting heart beat, Rene took ahold of his suit lapels and brought him down to meet her lips with his.

And the next thing he knew was blackness.