Hello! Thanks to everyone for the lovely reviews! You guys are great! Nurse Erik! Lol...

Let's see...what to say about this chapter. Christine is still pretty fickle in it, but things will slowly start to come together. There will probably be only one or two more chapters that take place in the hospital after this. I promise you will see the opera house again. Enjoy this chapter!

Doctor Murrell walked into the patient room, motioning with one finger for the young man to remain in the hall for a moment. The Vicomte gave the doctor an irritated glance, but obeyed, knowing another confrontation would not get him anywhere. Christine was resting on her back with the covers up to her neck sleeping quietly, her red lips curled in what appeared to be a tiny smile. As the doctor approached, she stirred and quickly propped herself up.

"Good morning, Mademoiselle," greeted the doctor, slightly taken aback by the girl's quick reaction. "How are you feeling today? You may have a visitor this morning."

Christine attempted to compose herself, trying to separate the events of the night and the present moment. Rubbing her forehead, she looked up wearily at the doctor. "A visitor?" she mumbled.

"Yes, Mademoiselle. Raoul de Chagny. He says that he is your fiancé." As the doctor was arriving at his office and removing his coat, the young man had rushed into the hospital, his white shirt wrinkled and his blonde hair in tangled strands. He had inquired if Christine Daae was a patient there, grumbling under his breath about an encounter he had with a nurse the previous night. After he had described her in detail, the doctor became certain that it was Mademoiselle Valerius that the young man spoke of. Still, though, Doctor Murrell wished to see how the girl responded to her fiancé's name before he let the young man see her. She had obviously been trying to hide from something the day before, and he wanted to be sure that the Vicomte was not the cause of her distress.

"Raoul?" she repeated. Though her pale face retained a tired expression, it did light up slightly.

Seeing nothing resembling terror, the doctor smiled. "Should I allow him to see you?"

"Yes, please," she replied. The doctor turned and opened the door, signaling for the young man to enter. Raoul rushed in and knelt by her at the bedside.

Christine smiled wearily. "Raoul!" she quietly exclaimed, returning his embrace. The doctor left the couple and began to check on other patients.

After hugging her and placing a quick kiss upon her soft cheek, Raoul backed up slightly, a confused expression crossing his tired face. "Christine," he began. "I did not know what had happened to you! I thought maybe he had-Why would you run off like that?"

She sighed. "Oh, Raoul. It is so difficult for me to explain right now. I do not even know if I understand it."

"You could have been injured much worse than this in that weather. You could have been killed! I do not understand what you were thinking." He ran a hand through his matted hair and shook his head. "Last night was our final chance to be free of that monster. We could have killed him or at least have had him chained and locked up. Without you, the plan was completely destroyed, and now that mad man is still on the loose...free to terrorize us."

Christine's eyes widened slightly, and she turned away sharply to avoid his gaze. "Raoul, please. I simply could not go through with it." She thought for a second before continuing. "I wrote you a note before I left but did not have the courage to give it to you. Perhaps it will explain better than I can tell you." She dug the crumpled sheet of paper up from its spot in the covers and gently placed it into his hand.

"It looks like it has been read quite a bit," he mumbled, opening it carefully. After taking a moment to go over it, he looked up and into her eyes. "I understand that you were afraid. But now you have to live in fear every day—"

"Raoul," she interrupted him. "Did you not read the second paragraph? Fear was not my sole reason for fleeing."

He looked quickly at the note again and scowled slightly. "Any need you feel to protect him, any devotion you may feel toward him is purely because of the control he has kept over you. When this is over and that monster has finally been stopped, you will realize how much you have been manipulated. Why, if it was not for me, he would have taken you that day in the graveyard. Does that thought not terrify you?"

"It is very complicated, Raoul. Please do not assume you know what I am feeling right now."

He placed his head into his hands in frustration. "I understand that it is complicated. But think of your safety. How will we ever live in peace together, knowing he could be following us wherever we go? I am going to have to hire guards to surround my manor once we are married-either that or leave this area altogether."

She shook her head tiredly. "He is only one man."

Raoul snorted dryly. "Only one man? I thought he was your beloved Angel of Music...the all-powerful Phantom of the Opera...but now he is only one man." Christine groaned and for the second time buried her face within the folds of the pillow, this time in exasperation. "Look, I am sorry you have hurt yourself, and I know you do not feel well. You must understand my frustration, though. A lot of effort went into last night and now we are back to where we were before. Worse off than we were before!" She said nothing, and he finally stood up with a sigh.

"I am going to go for a while and think about the situation," he said, finally giving up the interrogation and softening his voice. "The doctor says you will be here for a couple more nights, Lotte. I told him I wished to take you home immediately, but it seems that it would not be in your best interest. You are going to be off your feet for some time, my love."

She finally turned around and tried to form a reassuring smile. "Goodbye," she said softly. "I...I am sorry that I ruined everything, Raoul. It was simply very difficult." He nodded, kissed her forehead quickly, and left.

Christine shook her head in confusion and guilt as he departed. She thought Raoul would have been slightly kinder to her in her condition, but she did understand his frustration. Here he was trying so desperately to protect her, and she could not even bring herself to tell him that the Phantom himself would be coming to her room that night. Why did she not tell anyone of Erik's presence? She could have had the entire hospital staff and police force awaiting his capture, yet still she kept silent. Just as she had desired him at the cemetery before she had been swept away, she desired to see him again tonight. The very thought of his presence made her heart race in anticipation.

Perhaps Raoul was right. Perhaps she did hold an unhealthy devotion to her Angel. Although she felt some fear when he was around, there was also something immensely comforting about him. Erik, when he was not in a controlling rage, could soothe her mind with simple words. She wondered briefly what a kiss from Erik would feel like, before quickly brushing the thought from her mind in shame.

Erik's world was cold and lonely-his distorted features condemning him to a life in the darkness. He was a murderer, and he had deceived her. There could surely be no real future with him hidden in the shadows. Raoul would provide her with love and security and a life in the light. Of course she would marry him in the end. Somehow she would have to free herself from Erik's grasp, even if the thought of leaving him forever pained her. She prayed, though, that she would be released with his life and freedom still intact.


The night had fallen, and Christine quietly stared out the dusty window and into the illuminated streets of the city. After a long day of being visited several times by a distraught Raoul, a never-ending stream of nurses, and once more by the doctor-she had wished to get up from the white, sterile sheets. With the help of a reluctant nurse, Christine had hobbled into a chair in front of the window to look outside. It seemed that she had been forgotten about, though, as no one had returned to help her back into bed in the last several hours.

She sighed as she gazed out, beginning to dislike the powerlessness her immobility brought her. Raoul had already decided that upon her discharge from the hospital, she would go to live in an estate outside of Paris with some of his close family friends until she healed. He would continue to try and secure their safety through the use of the police, and they would marry very soon. Where they would go as husband and wife depended on whether the Phantom was still a threat to them. If he was, Raoul had begun making elaborate plans to move to one of his family's properties that lay several hours from the city. Christine had only nodded and sighed in resignation as he went through the complicated details, his paranoia making her feel tired.

As she lost herself in thoughts of the future, Christine suddenly sensed his presence behind her and took in a deep breath, trying to calm her heart. She did not turn around as Erik approached her in the dark, and there was a long moment of silence between them. "You cannot be kept in bed for long, can you my dear?" he finally asked with amusement as he looked upon her hunched frame.

"I grew tired of staying down all day," she replied softly, tingling inside.

"You certainly did put yourself in an unpleasant situation with your escapade. Tell me, Christine, how did the Vicomte take to your decision? I cannot say I am displeased with the demise of his little plan." Christine was not surprised that he knew of Raoul's visitations. Somehow Erik still managed to be everywhere, even outside of the opera house.

She frowned and continued to stare out the window. "He was not happy. No one seems to be. And yet I do not regret making it." Finally turning her head, she cautiously looked up at him. He stared down at her coldly, although not with quite the threatening gaze of last night. For a moment, she lost herself in the glow of the golden orbs but quickly ripped her eyes away. Exhaustion overtook her as the conflicting feelings surged through her mind, and she fought all urges to lean against his towering figure.

With a sigh, she looked back toward the welcoming plush pillow that awaited her tired head. Slowly she arose, steadying herself onto one foot and attempting to hop her way back to the bed. On her first jump, she slammed her knee roughly into the corner of a little table and let out a soft moan of pain before sitting back down in defeat. The patient in the nearby bed stirred. Without a word, Erik casually offered her his arm, and she stared at it for a moment before gratefully taking it. She grasped onto his lean shoulder and placed her weight against him, closing her eyes in peaceful submission for a brief moment as he helped her hobble back to the bed. Her heart beat raced in those few seconds, and she gripped onto him a moment longer than necessary. "Thank you," she finally said, as she awkwardly climbed under the sheets.

Although Erik gave no reply, inside he was treasuring the warmth from her body that still lingered on his thin frame. Even if she was disgusted by him, at least she could bear to touch him when circumstances necessitated it. On many occasions, he had watched from the shadows of the opera house as the Vicomte had tightly embraced her small shoulders...kissing her rosy lips gently with his perfect ones. A rage always filled him at the sight, followed by a sharp pang of despair. Why could she not look upon him with love as she did for the damn boy? Why could he not experience the touch of her lips against his? Because he was a monster. A cold, grotesque corpse that haunted her and made her miserable. With self-loathing, he turned from her and went to the window so that she could not see the desperation in his eyes.

"Is something wrong?" he heard her ask meekly from the bed.

"No," he said almost inaudibly. There was a silence, and he wondered if she had escaped him in sleep until he heard her voice again.

"Will you-" she began awkwardly before pausing. "My ankle...did not hurt as much after you..." She stopped again, but he understood her meaning. She actually wished for him to touch her, even if it was only for the alleviation of her pain. Within seconds, he was at the end of the bed again, moving his fingers delicately around her foot.

Christine sighed and closed her eyes as the ache faded, blissful sleep overtaking her. After a while, he left the edge of the bed and, against his better judgment, came up next to where her dozing form lay. Her tiny hand lay limply over the bedside, and he slowly took it into his large one, marveling at its softness for a moment. At the cold touch, she opened her eyes widely and looked up at him, startled.

"Forgive me," he said quickly, attempting to draw back before she was utterly repulsed. She grabbed onto his hand tightly, though, entwining her small fingers within his long, slender ones and staring up at him with an unknown expression. They were frozen like that for a moment, neither daring to speak.

"Erik," she started softly, her heart racing. "I..." But she could not finish her sentence. At that moment, the door creaked open and someone began to approach them. Doctor Murrell gasped as he was met with a set of golden lights, glaring at him furiously in the dark.