Legal Disclaimer: I do not own anything having to do with Phantom of the Opera.

Notes: This has gone through some much-needed revision, including the removal of a line that was deeply contested, where Christine states that she "deserves" Erik. While I have also cleaned up the abundant grammatical and punctuation errors, this story is still sub-standard to my current writing level. In the future I hope to pretty much re-work it, but until then… it's readable now.

Live Forever

XXX

The darkness swept over her like a blanket, giving only shadows as she walked through the dank hallways, stone all around, cold seeping through and chilling her. Her gown was wet from swimming through the lake, but she didn't feel it, she was numb.

All she could feel was that she had to make it, she couldn't give up now. She would find him, even if it took all her life. She had let her heart betray her, she had been naive and foolish. But she had learned now, and she only hoped she could make it up to the person who mattered most.

Him.

She was greatly aware of the sound of her feel on the cobbles, and she contemplated removing her shoes, but realized that they gave her at least some semblance of warmth. As she exhaled she saw a puff of her breath like smoke, and vaguely wondered why it was so cold down there. Surely there was some way to keep it warmer. But maybe, he liked it that way.

Finally she saw a flash of light. She knew who it was. Her Phantom! Her Angel! Her everything was there. She broke out into a run, not paying attention to the loose laces on her shoes. Not caring if she fell, her mind completely focused on one thing; the reunion with herself and that one person who made her life worth living. It was no surprise when she tripped, and fell against the door of His house on the lake, deep below the Paris Opera. With a sickening thud she slipped to the ground, and fought for consciousness. With a shiver she put her hand to the door and feebly struck once, twice, three times, before everything went black.

That was where he found her. Where the Phantom of the Opera, Erik Destler, Angel of Music found that one woman who he had stopped wishing to return so long ago. She was curled up, shaking against the door frame, and abandoning all though and reason he knelt down, scooping her into his arms and carrying her within his home. Laying her on his couch, he ran like a mad man into his room, pulling several blankets from his bed and covering the soft, small woman, noticing that her skin felt like ice. Like his skin.

He didn't know what else to do, so he checked for outward injuries, but besides her being cold, and the nasty lump on her forehead, there was nothing else wrong. He knew her clothing was wet, but he was loath to remove them, he didn't want Christine feeling he had taken advantage of her, after all. Not after she had finally come back.

He didn't know the reason of her visit, but only hoped that it was something good. Maybe she had come back to him! But no, he couldn't let himself think like that. Couldn't dare to let himself hope, not after all these years. One more let down and he knew he would not survive it. And with that, he made tea. Russian tea for himself and something a bit sweeter for Christine. After all these years he still remembered what she liked.

He sat then, and waited. It wasn't long before Christine awoke before a crackling fire, warm blankets around her and the distinct smell of the Phantom all around. She snuggled closer into the warmth, her eyes closed, before she finally opened them, blinking a few times, to see Erik sitting before her, a concerned expression on his face which he quickly masked upon seeing her waken.

"Christine, my dear..." he breathed, reaching out as if to touch her, but then drawing back, "why are you here?"

Christine frowned, unable to keep his steady gaze, and shook her head. "I don't know..." She breathed, reaching a hand to run through her hair, which was greatly tangled.

Erik frowned, but said nothing as he reached out, handing her the cup of tea. "Drink this," he said softly, "it will warm you. It doesn't look like your cold is anything too serious, but I'm still concerned."

She nodded, and began to drink. She tried to calm her racing heart, still beating fiercely from finally seeing the man she had been longing for so long to finally meet again. He caught her gaze and gave the ghost of a smile, turning his head again to stare into the flames of the fire. It was several long minutes before anyone spoke again, and then it was Erik who began the conversation.

"Christine...you must know why you're here. Where is that... husband of yours? The Vicomte de Chagny?"

Christine fumbled, looking up to Erik. "He is gone." Was all she said, looking away. "He... we... we are no longer together."

"Oh," Erik said, trying to hide his smile, "that is too bad. May I ask what happened?"

"He is very controlling. He wouldn't let me sing any more. Wouldn't let me do...anything, really. All of his friends thought poorly of me, thought me to be nothing more than a-a common whore."

Erik fists clenched in anger, and he shook his head. "You deserve so much more... so much better than that fool could ever give you." He whispered, still not looking at her.

Christine looked to his face and moved a little closer. "Perhaps... perhaps I am worthy of you?" She querried. He looked up, gazing into her eyes, and then looked away.

"You thought that after all these years, you could come back and I would welcome you with open arms?" He said.

Christine looked taken aback for a moment, before tilting her head slightly and blinking a few times, then she stated simply. "You brought me into your home."

Erik laughed. "Was I supposed to leave you outside to die?"

Her face fell, and Christine looked toward the door. "Then I'll just be leaving." She said, starting to stand, but Erik pushed her back down gently by her shoulders.

"I'll have none of that! Who knows if you're well enough to go out yet!? I want you to stay, but only until you're well. Then you must leave. I can't have you breaking me again."

Christine shook her head, tears starting to fill her eyes. "Erik, I won't leave you again. I won't! You're the one, my love! The one I was meant to be with! You're my Angel of Music!"

"I'm no angel, and I'm no monster, Christine!" Erik exclaimed, standing in anger. "I am a man! That is all!" He turned to face away from her then, his cape billowing around his body before setting once more to fit against him. He turned his head then and glanced back at Christine. "You would be well to remember that, Christine. I'm a mere man."

The tears finally escaped Christine's eyes, and she lowered her head. "I know that Erik. You're a man. But you're an angel to me."

He softened then, moving to sit next to her, cautiously putting a hand on her arm. "Christine, how can I trust you after you left me? After you lied?"

She lifted her head, the tears had spilled over and fell down her cheeks. "I don't know! I'm not that girl you remember, I've grown, I'm not the Christine Daae you knew! I've changed, I'm a woman now, and I know what I want. And that's you! Please Erik, give me a chance to show you how much you mean to me..."

Slowly she moved forward, and brushed her lips against his. "I love you, Erik."

When she pulled back, he flushed slightly and looked away. "I don't know what I'll do, Christine, if what you're saying isn't true. I don't think I could live knowing you didn't love me after this..."

Throwing her arms around Erik, she pulled him close, and whispered into his neck softly. "Then live forever, Erik. I will never leave your side."

FIN