A/N: Life is so busy! And I feel terrible. I haven't updated in a BAJILLION YEARS! Well, not that long, but it's still been a pretty long time :D. So sorry! I've had so much to do! (Just took my SATs Saturday and just recovered from strep throat...)

Much love and thanks to all my WONDERFUL reviewers! And last chapter was officially the end of what I dreamt. Now, I am just writing what pops up in this blonde head of mine!

Disclaimer: Oh, please. If I owned The Phantom of the Opera, I would not be here! And I know the story of the Nightingale and the Rose is rather popular among Phantom phics... especially mine. Hehe, deal with it :-D It's such a pretty and symbolic story! Hehe...

Chapter Four

"How do you feel now, Christine?" His inquiry still echoed in my head. "Sorrowful? Upset? Afraid? Confused? Good."

Sitting in the silence, I traced my lips with my fingertips lightly, holding my breath. His tingling sensation still lingered there, burning with an unknown passion. Why in the world did he do that? Then, dropping my trembling hand to my side, my eyes widened. The realization smacked me roughly in the face.

Sorrow... distress... fear... confusion... Those emotions must have been coursing through him when I ripped his mask away. My gaze befell my fingers, as I wrung them mercilessly. The silence was gradually eating at me, making me uneasy. With a soft sigh, I emerged from the room slowly, peering out to see if he was waiting for me.

Nothing.

Dragging myself up the stairs, I noted there seemed to be more steps to climb now. Of course, it was the same amount of stairs as always, yet after that perplexing moment, it was harder to carry myself.

I inched into my room, quietly shutting my door and flinging myself lifelessly onto my bed. Staring at the black, blank screen of the television, I began to chew on my lip and slowly sat up. Remaining silent, I reached for the remote and hesitantly turned it on. Biting down hard on my lip, I began to change it to the news. I didn't know what force was causing me to do this, and my mind seemed to be screaming 'No, Christine! It will only bring you more heartache!' And this was true, for I knew that at the moment I saw my friends and family, I would break down completely.

Yet I continued.

Finally, I reached the desired channel and carelessly dropped the remote on the bed. It was, of course, still discussing my abrupt disappearance. Then, my mother and Meg appeared on the screen... but where was my dad? My mother had tears in her eyes, a mirror image of the last time I saw her on T.V. in the mall. Meg had her arm comfortingly around my mom and grief was etched in her once-perky features as well.

A news reporter stood there, little emotion in her features, yet more so than most reporters. Her hazel eyes stared at the camera, as a strand of her short, dark blonde hair fell into her face.

"I'm Dawn, and I'm here with Christine Daae's mother and best friend Meg Giry. And yet another tragedy has struck the poor Daae family." She said to the camera, informing the thousands of people watching. "Christine's father, Charles Daae, was suffering from heart problems before his daughter's disappearance. However, the stress of this situation evidently brought his health down even further." She paused out of respect, looking away and back at the camera again. "Charles Daae died earlier this morning..."

But I heard nothing more after that. The reporter's dull voice seemed to become distant, as I clamped my hand over my mouth, tears forming in my eyes. I shrieked before curling up in a ball on my bed and shaking from the uncontrollable crying.

"Daddy?" I questioned a broken whisper, but my volume rose as I began to sob and scream, "Daddy!"

As I continued with my sobs, I faintly heard the door swing open and hit the wall hastily. Erik's masked face was consumed with worry, but was blurred from the tears.

"Christine?" He inquired tenderly, as I didn't cease my sobbing.

All of the coldness and fury had left him, genuine concern replacing it. His eyes wandered towards the television, widening and turning to look back at me. Quickly, Erik turned off the electronic that had brought me horrid news. His hazel eyes were soft and gentle, as he hesitantly placed a hand on my quivering arm.

"Christine..." He spoke, his voice seemingly wrapping itself around me.

When I didn't answer, he wrapped his elegant arms around me and brought me to his chest in an attempt to console my sobs. Without even thinking, I buried my tear-streaked face in his chest, the salty drops dampening the front of his shirt. For a few moments, he said nothing – only letting me cry my heart out. Then, when he saw that my sobs would not be lessening any time soon, he began to soothingly stroke my curls. Accompanying this comforting action was his alluring voice that seemed a mere caress upon my ear. This was somewhat calming to me, as my sobs began to grow quieter until the bitter tears had ultimately dried. And for a good amount of time, Erik and I sat there on my bed, as he rocked me back and forth consolingly until I had fallen asleep.

Over the next month and a half, all of the awkwardness, coldness, and fear had seemed to dissolve ever since the incident concerning my now deceased father. Replacing it was politeness, warmth, and possible friendship. I had given up attempting to act as if I loathed him, and when I brought down those defensive walls of coldness, I was surprised to find myself even somewhat... comfortable around him.

One evening, Erik and I had just finished eating dinner, when he took me to the Louise-Phillipe room. As I sat comfortably situated on the round, large Persian rug, he lit a fire in the awaiting fireplace; the flames cast a warm glow, as they cackled quietly.

"Which would you like to read tonight, Christine?" He inquired, motioning towards the well-sized shelf that held a good amount of books.

With a small smile, I tilted my head. We had made it a routine to read something from that shelf every night.

Shrugging lightly, my legs were curled up underneath me. "It doesn't matter."

His slender fingers grazed the spines of the books, as he stared at the shelf. My eyes traveled from his fingers to his hands, resting there. His hands were so graceful... so enticing. Unconsciously chewing my lip, I watched them with intensity. I truly believed that I would follow those hands anywhere... even if they led me off of the edge of the earth. When his fingers grasped a specific book, my dazed thoughts were shattered, as I blinked a few times.

"Which one did you choose?" I found myself asking with curiosity.

Erik held its cover towards me, while he took a seat beside me. I mentally noted how he assured himself he wasn't too close – I supposed it was for my comfort. Pushing away irrelevant thoughts, my eyes scanned the cover of the book. Its letters golden letters were elegantly curved into the words: "The Nightingale and the Rose".

"The Nightingale and the Rose." He answered, his alluring voice wrapping itself around me, as he flipped it open. Parting his lips, he began to read, his voice echoing throughout the room; it ricocheted lightly off of the walls, returning to my ears. "Once upon a time, there was a nightingale and a white rose... The nightingale, his melodic voice seemingly given to him by the angels in Heaven, fell in a deep love with the rose... although their worlds were completely different..."

I listened to each word carefully, the words delicately caressing my ear, while I closed my eyes and pictured the story his voice was projecting. After we were well into the book, a bell rang. It was sharp, and it penetrated into my thoughts, causing me to jump.

It was the doorbell.

Erik's eyes rapidly darted up from the pages, and he quickly yet gently set the book down. Standing, I stared down at me, and I suddenly trembled. Yes, he was much taller than me when I stood, yet as I sat there, he towered over me.

"I'll be back in a moment, my dear. Stay here." And with that, he hastily grabbed his cloak and hat, leaving the Louise-Phillipe room. I heard stifled movement and evidently the front door close.

I didn't move. When Erik gives someone instructions, it is best to obey them. With a shaky sigh, I began to wring my hands, awaiting his return. Who was at the door?

After ten minutes or so, the creaking sound of the front door made its way to my ears. Shaking off his cloak and hat, he returned them to the coat hanger. I stared at him with questioning eyes, but never spoke a word. The look in his eyes was something different than I had seen in this past month. And I couldn't quite identify it. Without speaking anything of the incident that just occurred, Erik resumed the story, but oddly enough, my thoughts lingered, and I found myself drifting off. My eyelids were slowly drooping, as I leaned against the settee.

Not too soon afterwards, I felt myself being lifted up by a pair of arms. Eyes half-closed, I sleepily looked up to see Erik's masked face hovered over me.

"Erik?" I inquired groggily, but received no reply.

He carried me upstairs and into my room, without saying a single word. I hadn't resisted; I was much too tired. Actually, without even thinking, I believed that I rested my head against his chest. Laying me down on my bed, he did not bother with my attire and instead, pulled the cool sheets over my drowsy form. Now, my eyes were completely shut, as I moved slightly.

"Goodnight, Christine..." His voice trailed off, as I felt him press a quick kiss to my forehead. The sound of my bedroom door shutting was soft, as I drifted off to sleep.

"Goodnight, Erik..."

The next day, I awoke and sat up slowly. Pushing stray, messy curls behind my ears, I yawned and stretched my arms. The night's previous events loitered in my thoughts, as I swung my feet over the edge of the bed. Stealing a glance at the clock, 11:01 flashed back at me. I had slept in a bit late.

I went into the bathroom, taking a brief shower, the hot water awaking and relaxing my body. Emerging from the restroom, the steam seemed to follow me, while I silently dressed. I donned a pink sundress on, but stopped as my eyes came into contact with the glass, balcony doors. I had almost forgotten; we were in the midst of fall, and the cool weather and this sundress would not go well with one another. Sighing, I slipped a pair of well-fitting jeans on and a long-sleeved azure shirt. Removing my curls from the towel, I squeezed them tightly with it, before placing it in the hamper in the bathroom.

Returning to the bedroom, my eyes befell a diminutive envelope that had been placed on my nightstand. I picked it up gently, opening it and reading the red letters:

"Christine,

I have gone to run some errands and will be gone for the morning. If you are hungry, there is some breakfast for you in the kitchen.

Erik"

Dropping the paper back on my nightstand, I swallowed. I was home alone. He trusted me?

I crawled onto my bed, crossing my legs and staring at the black television. That thing had caused me so much pain... but... the need to know what was happening welled up inside of me. Clutching the remote with a trembling hand, I flipped it on.

It was still on the news.

My blue eyes broadened, while I intently watched the colored screen. A police officer stood there, scratching his head.

"We sent an officer to search for Christine Daae to a place that is further away from here." He informed the reporter, his chocolate brown eyes obviously perplexed. "And when I attempted to call him on his cell phone, I didn't get an answer, and he has yet to return."

Furrowing my brow, I turned the volume down and brought my knees to my chin. After I stared at the news for several minutes, I shrugged any skeptical thoughts roughly away, as I turned the television off. We were too far out – we were totally isolated. There was no way that that missing police officer could have been at the door last night... could it?

Rising from the bed, I walked out on the balcony. The crisp wind swathed me in a cool embrace, as I shivered. My somewhat damp curls blew about me, while I stared at the blank atmosphere before me. A car door shutting caused me to look down, my eyes settling on the sight of Erik ambling towards the mansion. Wrapping my arms around my petite body, I rubbed my arms as a source of heat. Leaning against the ashen railing of the balcony, I rested my chin in the palm of my hand. Would I be here forever?