When Christine woke up the next morning, she almost decided to go back to sleep and stay in bed all day, regardless of what her father would have to say about that. Fall was announcing its presence with a heavy shower of rain, which meant she would not be able to go outside and spend her day with Jean in the garden.

Moreover, she did not feel the least inclination to go downstairs and possibly run into Erik after last night. She just did not understand what had happened.

The evening had started out so well. For the first time, Erik had made an effort to make small talk. He had asked her how her day had been and had even seemed genuinely interested. And when the conversation turned towards more personal matters and he told her he was sorry about her mother's passing, she believed he was sincere. His words did not sound like some meaningless platitude, and something in his eyes made her suspect that he understood her pain better than he was letting on.

She did not think she was doing anything wrong by inquiring after his own family. She merely wanted to learn something more about him, and it seemed only fair since she had answered his own questions honestly, even though it saddened her to speak about her mother. But as soon as she had asked, his icy demeanour had returned and he had left the table without any further explanation.

She simply could not make head nor tail of this man. Things had been going better the last few days. When he offered her singing lessons, she did not know what to expect, but he turned out to be a great teacher. Even in the few sessions they had had so far, her voice had improved remarkably under his guidance. Erik was making an effort to be kinder to her too, she noticed, and she was finally starting to feel a little more at ease around him.

And then she had heard him sing.

From the first time she heard his voice, she knew it held a remarkable power. That first night, it had sounded almost god-like, inciting fear and demanding obedience, but she had learned it could also be soft and gentle when he wanted it to, like the back of an invisible hand caressing her cheek. When he sang though, she was mesmerized, falling completely under his spell. For a brief moment, nothing else in the world existed, only him and his heavenly voice.

After that night, she found she wanted nothing more than to hear that voice again. She started looking for excuses, pretending to be struggling with melodies she could have sung in her sleep, anything that would prompt him to sing for her once more. Those moments became her favourite part of the day. For a while she could leave her worries and fears behind and simply be as she let his intoxicating voice wash over her.

But no matter how hard she might want to forget them, her worries and fears still lingered in the back of her mind, and with nothing else to occupy her thoughts today, they were even more prominent.

She dressed slowly and eventually made her way downstairs, settling in one of the bay windows overlooking the garden with her book of Swedish fairy tales. She tried to concentrate on the words in front of her, but her thoughts were inevitably drawn back to her father in his hospital bed, wondering how he was doing and if he missed her as much as she missed him. She had never been parted from him before for as much as a day, and their prolonged separation was weighing heavily on her.

At dinner that evening she was disappointed to find that Erik's foul mood from the night before had not yet passed. He did not speak a word during the entire meal, and by the time she was following him through the labyrinth of dark corridors to the music room, she was dreading her lesson, wishing more than anything that she could escape to the confines of her room. Being alone with her worries might be preferable to spending more time with her unresponsive companion, after all.

To make matters worse, she found that, much like with her reading earlier, she could not keep her attention on the sheet of music Erik had placed on the music stand in front of her. She tried her best to concentrate, but time and again her thoughts would drift back to her father and she would mess up again.

She could see that Erik was getting frustrated and losing his patience with her, but however hard she tried, she remained distracted, singing off key or missing her cues, and eventually Erik had enough.

"Stop! For God's sake, what is wrong with you?" he bellowed. "Have you already forgotten everything I taught you? You have never sounded this terrible before. Are you even trying? Maybe we should just put an end to these lessons. They do not seem to be of much use anyway."

His harsh words fell on her already heavy heart like lashes of a whip, and she felt she could bear it no longer. She burst into tears, sobbing into her hands.

Erik remained silent for a moment. Eventually she heard him get up from behind the piano and walk over to her, and when he reached out his hand towards her shoulder, she shrank back, afraid he would grab her or hit her, but he only led her to the couch and gently urged her to sit. He sank down on the other end, keeping as much distance between them as possible, and handed her a handkerchief, which she gratefully accepted and hurriedly wiped away her tears with. He was already upset with her. Surely her excessive crying would only make matters worse.

"I'm so sorry!," she burst out. "It is only that I have been so worried about my father, but I will concentrate now, I will try harder, I promise!" Music was the only thing that still kept her going. If he took that away from her now, she did not know how she would survive the rest of her stay here. "Please let me try again, please forgive me!" she begged.

"Oh Christine…" he sighed. A shiver ran through her when she heard that deep voice speak her name for the first time. He had always called her Mademoiselle Daaé before, and although she did not know what had prompted him to use her first name now, she found herself hoping he would keep addressing her that way from now on. Her name sounded remarkably beautiful on his lips.

"It's quite alright. We will continue later. It is no use to keep trying when your heart is not in it."

"Was I truly that terrible?" she asked quietly, not daring to look him in the eye, afraid of what his answer would be.

"Well, I cannot say it was your best performance, but no, you were not terrible. I did not mean the things I said. I'm afraid my temper got the best of me once again. I apologize."

She nodded thankfully and wiped away her tears. Erik's anger seemed to have disappeared just as suddenly as it had come. At least he was not screaming at her any more.

"You must think me such a horrible, ill-tempered beast," he said.

Christine remained silent. What was she supposed to say to that? She did not want to appear as if she agreed with him, because she honestly did not think that, but he probably would not believe her if she told him otherwise.

"See? You daren't even agree with me for fear I would yell at you again."

"That is not –"

She had been about to say it was not true, but did not finish her sentence because… well, there was some truth in it. He gave her a look that indicated she had just proven his point.

"Well, you do have a quick temper, yes," she admitted softly. "That does not necessarily make you a bad person."

Erik scoffed at her reply. "Have I given you any indication to the contrary then?"

"Of course you have." She briefly wondered why she felt the need to offer him reassurance when he was the one who had offended her in the first place. Then again, the normal rules of polite conversation had never seemed to apply where Erik was concerned.

"You offered me singing lessons. That was kind of you. And I feel they have already paid off, although today might not be the best illustration of that," she said with a wry smile, and he responded with a soft chuckle, a sound almost as musical as his singing voice.

"And you helped my father. You did not have to, but you still chose to do so, whatever your reasons were. My father is still alive today because of you. You must know I am very grateful for that."

"Do you miss your father so terribly then? Is that why you were unable to concentrate?" he asked as he stood up and walked towards the fireplace, staying there with his back turned towards her.

"I do, very much, but there is more to it than that."

"How so?"

She inhaled sharply before replying, fiddling with Erik's handkerchief.

"I feel guilty." She had not wanted to admit that to herself, but it was the truth.

"What would you need to feel guilty for?" he asked incredulously, still staring into the flames. "Are you not doing all of this for him? Sacrificing yourself by staying here with me, I mean?"

"Yes, but you see, he has always been there for me, and I feel guilty that now, when he needs me the most, I'm not there for him. I know that my staying here is helping him, but I still feel like I am letting him down by not being by his side." She sniffled softly, annoyed with herself when she felt another tear trickle down her cheek. She quickly dabbed it away with the corner of the handkerchief.

"Would you like to visit him?"

Her had snapped up at his question. She wished desperately that Erik would turn around so she could read his expression.

"Do you mean it? Would you really let me go to visit him?"

He did turn around then and she thought she could see a hint of disappointment and sadness in his eyes.

"Of course I would. You are not my prisoner, Christine. I am sorry if I made you feel that way. I should have offered much sooner, but yes, I mean it. I will arrange for you to visit him tomorrow, if that is what you wish."

She felt her heart skip a beat at the prospect of finally seeing her father again and before she had fully realized what she was doing, she jumped up from the sofa and ran over to Erik, only just stopping herself from throwing her arms around him.

"Yes, I would like that very much," she said with a genuine smile.

"Very well," he nodded. "I will write to inform the hospital first thing in the morning. You can join Madame Giry on her trip into town in the afternoon. She will escort you to the hospital and then come and fetch you there again when she is done running her errands."

Not knowing what else to do with the immense gratitude she felt towards Erik in that moment, she took his hand between both of hers, lightly squeezing it as she whispered a heart-felt "thank you". His long fingers felt like ice in hers, and she briefly wondered if he was falling ill. After all, the room felt comfortably warm to her, and although he had been standing by the fire for a while, his fingers were still incredibly cold against her skin.

Erik looked at their hands with a shocked expression, as if no one had ever dared to hold his hand before. Suddenly feeling rather embarrassed, Christine let go. She excused herself and left the room before he could say anything more.

Christine barely slept that night. She kept tossing and turning, hoping her mind would quiet down enough to let her rest, but to no avail. She was excited at the thought of being reunited with her father, yet apprehensive at the same time. Would he be happy to see her, or would he feel she had abandoned him in his time of need? Would he be angry with her for not coming to see him sooner? It was true that Erik had not suggested the possibility of a visit before that night, but she had not asked either. Should she have stood her ground, risked another one of his angry outbursts for at least the chance of a visit? She continued to ponder these questions until finally, shortly before dawn, sleep overtook her.

Rather than feeling tired the next morning, there was a nervous energy thrumming through her body and she was unable to sit still. She spent the entire morning pacing the hallway until Erik could not bear it anymore and bid her to continue her pacing outside.

On the carriage ride into town, she was happy to have Madame Giry with her. They had not interacted much before, and she was glad to have this chance to get to know her a little, their pleasant conversation distracting her from the nervous fluttering in her stomach.

Occasionally she glanced through the window and watched the people as they passed by. As a performer, Christine was used to large crowds and it felt nice to have so many people around her again, although she had to admit that she had not really missed it until now. Somehow the peace and quiet at Erik's estate suited her better than she had expected.

They arrived at the hospital much sooner than Christine thought they would. Madame Giry left her at the entrance with the promise that she would be back to fetch her in an hour or two.

She entered the building and immediately wished that Madame Giry had stayed with her a little longer, since she had no idea where to go or who to ask where she could find her father. Luckily it turned out that someone had been expecting her. A handsome young man with wavy blond hair smiled at her as he spotted her from across the hall and made his way towards her.

"Are you Mademoiselle Daaé?" he inquired.

"Yes, I am."

"Raoul De Chagny, pleased to meet you. If you allow me, I will take you to see your father."

"Are you my father's physician?" Christine asked as she followed him along the corridor.

"No, I am not a doctor. That is to say, not yet. I have not finished my training yet," he explained. "Your father is being treated by my older brother Philippe. Believe me, he could not be in better hands." He gave her a reassuring smile as they stopped in front of what Christine assumed must be her father's room. There was something about this young man that made her believe she could trust him with her life, even though she had never met him before. She supposed that was not a bad quality for a doctor-to-be to have.

"Your father will most likely be asleep, but my brother will be with you shortly," Raoul told her. "He will inform you of your father's condition and answer any questions you might have. Please feel free to stay with him for as long as you like. If there is anything else I can help you with, I will be just around the corner. Do not hesitate to come and find me." He bid her goodbye with another charming smile.

When Raoul De Chagny had disappeared around the corner, Christine took a deep, steadying breath, pushed open the door in front of her and entered her father's room. When she saw him, all her fears from the night before suddenly seemed insignificant.

As Raoul had predicted, her father was fast asleep. He still looked very pale, and his once strong and healthy figure now seemed very frail underneath the white sheets, but at least he was still alive. She could barely believe this was the same man who had chased away the monsters from under her bed when she was a little girl, the man who had carried her on his back when she was too tired to walk, who had always been there to protect her. When she was younger, her father had seemed invincible to her. Now it became painfully clear that he was not.

She sank down in the chair next to his bed, wanting nothing more than to hold his hand, but not daring to do so. He looked so fragile that she was afraid he would somehow break if she touched him.

"Oh papa," she sighed, tears forming in her eyes, "I have missed you so much." Even if he could not hear her, saying it out loud felt like a relief.

She sat with him in silence for a while, watching his chest rise and fall with each rattling breath, until the door opened to reveal a man she assumed must be Philippe De Chagny.

"Oh, I beg your pardon, mademoiselle. I did not know you had arrived already," he said as he spotted her. "Mademoiselle Daaé, I presume?"

"Yes, I am," she confirmed, standing up. "You must be doctor De Chagny then. Your brother Raoul showed me the way here."

"I see." Philippe De Chagny must have been at least ten years older than his brother, but he was no less handsome and had the same charming manner. He kindly yet clearly explained to her that her father's condition had not improved as much as he had hoped thus far, but at this stage the fact that it had not deteriorated either was a good sign.

"Fighting the disease requires almost all his energy, which means he sleeps most of the day. But whenever he is awake, he always asks about you."

Although the comment was clearly meant to make her feel better, it only strengthened the guilt she still felt at not having visited sooner.

"I am glad to see he is in such good hands here."

"We are doing everything we can and will continue to do so until he has fully recovered," Philippe assured her. "You are welcome to visit him whenever you wish."

If it were up to her, she would be here by his bedside every day, but she had made a promise to Erik, and she did not know how often he would allow her to return. She simply nodded in acknowledgement. Having made sure that she had no further questions for him, doctor De Chagny left shortly afterwards.

For the remainder of their time together, Christine simply talked to her father. Even if he could not understand what she was saying, according to Philippe there was still a chance that he was aware of her presence. And so she told him about the mansion with all its dark corridors and empty rooms, about her attempt at gardening under the guidance of Jean, but most of all she talked about Erik. She mentioned his quick temper and his apparent refusal to share any personal information with her, and talked at length about his incredible voice and about their music lessons.

Before she realized it, two hours had flown by and the younger De Chagny brother returned to inform her that Madame Giry was there to pick her up. With a heavy heart, Christine rose from her chair. She placed a soft kiss on her father's forehead and whispered a promise to return soon.

Before she walked out of the room, she turned back towards Raoul.

"May I ask you for a favour, monsieur?"

"Of course," he nodded earnestly.

"When he wakes up, would you tell him that I was here? That I love him very much and that I will come back as soon as I can?"

"I will," he promised.

She smiled gratefully, turned to look at her father one last time, and made her way towards the exit.