There's a darkness

Which comes without a warning... from Les Miserables

A/N: Wow! Thank you so much for the quick, kind reviews! I appreciate it so much! Hugs to my first reviewers

Erik's POV

My black cloak and Nadir trailed me as I silently made my way across the banks of the lake.

"Daroga, must you always be here?" I inquired dully, a half smile playing on my lips.

"Of course, I must. I'm your conscious, and I'm here to keep you out of trouble." He replied with all sincerity.

Rolling my eyes, I was searching for it. By 'it', I meant her letter. Every day, I had received a letter from her. They never ceased to arrive, but I never responded. No, I couldn't. I couldn't allow her to know I was still here. She deserved better than a cold-blooded monster such as myself. Finally, my yellow eyes caught something white. A small letter was tucked under the gate of Rue Scribe. Picking up the letter, I slipped it in my coat pocket.

"You tire me, Daroga." I sighed, slightly irritated, yet his presence was always somewhat amusing.

"Ah, but you do not tire me, my friend." Nadir answered me, crossing his arms. Catching a glimpse of the letter, he tilted his dark head. "What is that?"

"Nothing that concerns you." I stated coldly, raising an eyebrow. "Please, leave me."

Sighing, he nodded slowly. "Fine, Erik. I will see you tomorrow." He added lightly, exiting through the rusty gate.

Smirking, I returned to my house. I removed the letter from my pocket, gracefully dropping my fedora and cloak on a chair. Beginning a fire, I took a seat on the divan, my fingers eagerly untying the string that was fastened around the note. Opening the paper, my eyes read her tender words intensely, not missing a single word. When the letter unfortunately came to an end, I mentally noted the few tearstains that lay in various places on the paper.

Sighing deeply, I rose, approaching the Louis-Philippe room. Opening a drawer to a wooden dresser, I placed a heartbroken kiss to the letter before placing it inside. But it was not alone. Accompanied by it were copious other letters from my beloved angel. Reluctantly closing the drawer, I left the room, choking back tears. I silently restrained myself from dashing to the Chagny estate and taking her amorously into my arms, and suppressed the urge to reply to her hopeful, yet regretful letter. Returning to my seat on the divan, I removed my mask, merely staring at it for a few moments. My stare soon transformed into a glare as I hurled it across the room, shattering a vase in the process. A single tear traveled down my malformed cheek, making its way to my twisted lips. I could taste the salty tear on my tongue as I clenched the arm seat.

"Damn that mask! Damn my accursed face! Damn my entire life!" I roared into the vacant air about me, drained from the constant despondency I had been forced to live in.

Sitting quietly for a moment, I stood, retrieving my rejected mask from the broken glass. Rapidly pulling my hand back, I looked down at my finger. Scarlet blood seeped out slightly, indisputably cut from the glass. However, the sight of blood had never fazed me, for I had unfortunately seen blood countless times in my lifetime. Carefully grasping my mask and returning it to my face, I made my way to the kitchen, rinsing off my finger with the cool water. Tying a small piece of material around my slender finger, I returned to the Louis-Philippe room. Pulling out a piece of paper, I began to write, ignoring the nagging voice scolded me, rebuking what I was doing.

My dear Christine, I have received the great amount of letters from you, and I must say that hearing from you means the world to me. But please forget me, my love. Marry your Viscomte and live a blissful life. I want you to be happy...

Giving a frustrated sigh, I crumpled the paper, swiftly going to the fireplace. Tossing it into the flames, I hastily thrust a lamp to the floor. Clenching my fists, I resignedly dropped on the settee, rubbing my temples. I could imagine her. Every time I read one of her letters, I could see her beautiful face, glowing with hope and childlike wonder. I could visualize her long golden-blonde hair bouncing in playful curls as her exquisite, melodic laughter filled the atmosphere. I could envisage her sparkling eyes of cerulean innocence. I longed to meet my misshapen lips to those claret lips once more, tasting the sweetness of my angel. Resting my chin in my hand, I blinked a few times. My gaze settled on the diminishing fire, my thoughts racing, as I began to wonder what she was doing at this exact moment.

Oh, Christine... I thought forlornly.

A/N: R&R please! Hope you enjoyed it!