Disclaimer: You guessed it. I don't own it.

Guardian Angel

Erik and Michelle's lives evolved into a kind of routine. Every day Michelle would cook and clean for Erik and herself; Erik would eat and continue in vain to try to write some music. This was interlaced with a dozen squabbles a day.

"Get that thing out of my face," Erik ordered one day. Michelle was dusting his organ, while Erik was playing it. "Can't you do that when I'm somewhere else?"

Michelle planted her hands, and the duster, on her hips. "The only time you are somewhere else is at mealtime, and then I have to watch to make sure you eat."

Erik glared at her. "You are not my keeper."

"If you say so. Sometimes I don't know who's protecting whom from what. Are you protecting me from killers, or am I protecting you from yourself?"

She started dusting again. "Now go read or something. I have work to do."

"So do I," Erik grumbled, but got up anyway. "Nothing worse than an imp with a feather duster."

Michelle glanced at him, amused. "No one's ever called me an imp before."

Erik was able to keep from returning her grin through great control. "Well they should. You're always so happy and chipper it's disgusting."

Some emotion Erik couldn't describe passed across her face. She turned her back to him, and said in a voice so low he almost missed it, "Not always."

* * * * *

She was having a dream.

She knew because it was the same dream she'd had for the past ten years. *But I stopped having it months ago.*

It was always the same. She was walking through a dark, misty crypt. It was empty, save for one ornate black coffin placed in the only raw of light. She didn't want to, but her legs carried her to the coffin's side.

There was a carving at the head of the casket: a golden cross designed to resemble bones.

Her hand reached out to lift the lid. *No, No!* her mind screamed. But her dream-self didn't hear. Never did. She lifted the lid and peered inside. It was a man. A dead man.

Suddenly, his eyes shot open, cold and grey. A decomposing hand grasped her arm. His lips never moved, but she heard him say, "You will be mine." She awoke to the sound of her terrorized screams. * * * * * Erik shot up when he heard the scream. He had been sitting in his room, contemplating ideas for a new opera, when a terrified shriek pierced the night.

Michelle.

He tore out of his room. Only Michelle would be down here, with only one reason to scream. Dear God. Had the killers found her? He burst into her room, terrified that he would find her with her throat slit.

Instead, she was huddling by the headboard. Sobs were wracking her body, which suddenly seemed so fragile. Erik took a step forward. She somehow sensed his presence and her head shot up. What he saw in her eyes shocked him to the core. His confident, capable imp had disappeared, leaving in her place a frightened girl. "Erik?"

He took another step forward, and she threw herself into his arms. Erik followed his instincts and wrapped his arms around her. "Shh. It's okay, Imp. I'm here." He stroked her hair-it was so soft- and whispered reassuring nonsense until she had cried all her tears.

Michelle pulled away, sniffling. Erik sat her on the bed. "Want to talk about it?" he asked.

Michelle looked up at him. She seemed to realize what she had just done and tried to regain her usual composure. "I-I'm s-sorry," she said. "It w-was j- just a l-little nightmare."

Erik frowned and bent to light the lamp on the nightstand by her bed. "A little nightmare wouldn't have you crying and frightened like that."

She looked down again. Erik wished she would tell him. Maybe he could help. It was a foreign feeling to him, but he hated seeing this sweet woman so terrified. He hated seeing her cry. He hated that she needed to cling like a child to him for comfort.

*Well, maybe I don't hate that so much * he thought. His body had found the press of her full breasts against his chest quite pleasant.

Erik became angry with himself. How could he be thinking of something like that when Michelle was so distressed? He shouldn't be thinking of that at all.

Erik shook off his improper thoughts. "Now," he said, kneeling in front of her, "tell me about this dream."

Michelle wanted to lie, to say she didn't remember or that it was nothing, like she told everybody else. But when she looked at him, she found she couldn't. Erik was letting her see a different part of him, even though he didn't seem to realize it. And he was looking at her with more concern than anyone had ever felt for her. She took a deep breath and began.

"Ten years ago, when I turned thirteen, I started having this dream." Michelle glanced at Erik. He was listening intently. She continued. "It was always the same: I'm walking through a crypt, go to a coffin, and look inside." She paused.

"Is there anyone in the coffin?" Erik urged.

"Yes." Michelle closed her eyes, wishing she could forget this part. "It's a man. A man with dark hair and cold gray eyes. I'm sure he's dead. I don't know why, I just am." She took another fortifying breath and continued. " I look at him, and he opens his eyes and grabs my arm." Her voice broke. "He says that I'll be his. I think he means he wants to kill me."

Erik stood and sat beside her, pulling her into his arms. "Do you know him?" he asked.

Michelle shook her head against his chest. "No. I've never seen him before. Except in the dream.

"I-I've never told this to anyone."

"Never?"

She shook her head again. "Not for years. I did, when the dreams first started. I hoped they would stop if someone knew. I dreamed every night. People thought I was crazy. They told me so."

Erik stiffened. How could anyone say that to someone they loved? "What did you do?"

Michelle sniffled again. "Eventually, I stopped screaming." She looked up at Erik. "Do you think I'm crazy, too?"

Erik's heart contracted at the hurt he saw in her eyes. He smiled grimly. "No. I've been insane. You aren't anywhere near crazy."

Michelle's eyes softened and she smiled. "Thank you." She laid her head back on his chest, and she sat there in Erik's arms for what could have been hours or just a few moments.

Erik knew he should let her go, but he held her anyway, for just a little longer. Finally, Erik sat back and away from her. "Do you fell better now? Think you can sleep?"

Michelle nodded and gave him a weak smile. She wished he would go on holding her. She felt safe in his arm, like the horrors of the night couldn't reach her there.

Erik stood and pulled the covers around Michelle. *If she doesn't stop looking at me like that, I may just climb in with her.*

He turned off the lamp and began to leave. But when he was about to close the door, Michelle stopped him. "Erik?"

"Yes?"

"Is that why you wear the mask? The.the thing on your face?"

Erik's hand flew to the right side of his face. where his mask wasn't.

"It's not really that bad, you know," she continued sleepily. "You don't have to wear it all the time. G'nite." Michelle drifted off to sleep.