Damn Nico! Look at you, posting before anyone even reviews your last chapter!

I was going to leave you all in suspense overnight, but I decided that was a bit too harsh, especially since this chapter literally brought tears to my own eyes.

How lame is that? Jeesh. I need to get out more.

I hope you're all enjoying this...I'd like to thank those of you who have been reviewing once more. It warms my heart to know that so many of you are enjoying this. (Hands out long stemmed roses to everyone and, for those of you over 21, a twisted tea.)

Now if you'll excuse me, my lame ass needs a kleenex...

Erik watched the papers turn to ash before his eyes. Christine stood in front of the fire, her eyes blazing…fearful…

He had known she was going to throw the papers in the fire before she did. He had known by the determined sway in her walk as she approached the fireplace. By the tone of her voice.

By the way he had insulted her by producing the manuscripts in the first place.

He could have stopped it, but he remained still, allowing Christine to go forward with her actions.

It had been his life's work; all moments leading up to the transcription of Don Juan Triumphant had produced the sensual melodies, the jarring script, the detailed costumes, the scenery.

And now it was gone, consumed by flames.

Christine had expected Erik to howl, to curse her, to slap her…to do anything in reaction to the destruction of Don Juan Triumphant besides what he was doing…

Standing stoically, watching the fire.

He himself had waited for the rage that would surely follow such a deviant act, but it never came. Instead he felt…release.

The black smoke that was surely billowing out of Erik's mansion carried with it all the heartache, all the hurt, all the soul Erik had poured into his opera.

He was a man released of at least one set of his shackles.

And she had spoken of love! Again! This time knowing he was listening…knowing he wouldn't have missed her proclamation.

She stood, her chest heaving, her fingers clenched into tiny fists at her sides.

He approached her with a question he already knew she had answered.

"Why did you do that?" he asked rhetorically.

"You know why I did it, Erik. The words and notes on those pages are mine just as much as they are yours. I will not allow pieces of paper to come between us, to muddy the waters we are just beginning to clear." She took another deep breath. "I will not allow anything to do so."

Hardly anything can shock a man whose very existence shocked everyone around him. Yet Christine's words shook him, frightened him, and made his heart swell.

"I am no longer the frail, easily manipulated girl I once was, Erik," she was saying, dragging him from his thought. "Too long I have been a pawn, a mindless, following child with expectations that exceeded possibilities."

She walked closer to him, taking his hands in her own. "You asked before if I still feared you, Erik. And the truth is I do. I fear that if I walk out of your life once more without speaking these words, I will not be given a second chance. I fear that I will go to my grave never knowing what could possibly be, what sweet music we could have made without…" She blushed, averting her eyes. "Without quills and paper," she concluded softly.

They stood before the fire in silence, staring at each other hungrily. "I have opened my heart to you now, Erik. I know the past cannot be changed. I know I have hurt you, destroyed you even…driven you to murder and lie…" her breath hitched on a sob. "And I am not standing before you asking for forgiveness, nor am I here to forgive. But I am asking you to speak, to tell me what you think, what you feel…and where I am supposed to go from here."

And then, Christine Daee pulled her hands from Erik's and fell silent.

When he still did not speak, Christine assumed she had her answer. She nodded, tears spilling down her face.

Of course he would not forgive her for her torments.

She began to cross the room again, picking up the dress Erik had so easily removed.

Erik did not speak as she once again donned the garment and headed for the large doors.

Only when her hand touched the pewter door handle did she hear his voice, barely above a whisper.

"You will leave me…" he said, finally putting voice to the thoughts within his head.

Christine froze.

"You will leave me once more; the darkness…I cannot bear the darkness…"

She turned to see Erik leaning on the fireplace mantel.

"I cannot bear thoughts of you without you…I cannot quell the pain I feel without you beside me," he looked up at her. "I would die all over again. And one death in a lifetime is enough."

Christine's heart broke into a million pieces. She ran to him, slamming into his body in an embrace that caused sounds of joy, lust, hurt, and love to emit from the both of them.

They fell into a series of passionate, nearly painful kisses.

"I will never leave you again…" Christine moaned in between kisses. "I cannot…the past three years I have been dead…my heart's first beat came when I saw you on the roof…when I heard your voice…your voice…"

Erik growled as he ripped the dress once more from her body sending the damned pearl buttons scattering across the cold floor.

"I love you…I love you…" Christine was sobbing, repeating over his head as he ran his tongue across his collarbone.

He lifted his head to look at her.

She was hysterical. "Say it," she commanded huskily. "Say it now or ruin me forever."

His tongue felt thick in his mouth.

She was staring at him, her face red and wet. "Say it Erik...say it as you said it that night so long ago."

Erik took a breath. "Christine…Christine…I love you."