Well, I'm back! My camping trip was awesome! Did you miss me?

Dahna: OK, I guess Erik could squeeze you in... He's having quite a party in that closet right now! ;)

Tadriendra of Mirkwood: Ten minutes? Well, I guess I can accomodate my favourite spell-checker! Or rather Erik can... ;) Awesome to hear from you again!

Kodukadvakch: Hey, thanks! Glad you like it! Keep reviewing, I'll keep updating!

Sugar Peaches: Awww, you really like it that much? Sorry about the cliff-hanger, but at least I left you guys wanting more!

Em: OK, just because you're so complementary, I'm kicking everyone out of the closet so you can get your five minutes with Erik right now! Geez, I'm starting to feel like his secretary! I'll check out that story, Shiver, as well when I'm done here...

XoAnGeL-Of ThE-NiGhToX: Yes! I have an obediant reader! Alright! Sorry about the wait, hope this chappie doesn't disappoint you!

On with it, then!

XxXxX

A single lamp pierced the darkness of the tent. Erik lay on his side with his back to Christine. She saw his shoulders shaking, and every so often a small choking noise escaped his body.

He was crying…

She noted the angry red welts and gashes on his bare back. She slowly approached the cage.

Erik was muttering something to himself, oblivious to Christine's presence. She heard him mention Marie-Eve's name.

"Erik?"

Erik sat up quickly. He turned to look at her.

Christine gasped. Erik's mask was gone, his deformed features exposed. His face was purple and swelling from the bruises he had sustained. His chest was scratched up and as bruised as his face. There were also little cuts and bruises on his arms and legs.

Age and years of loneliness had made Erik's already distorted face paler and rougher than she remembered it. He was thinner… His skin was stretched tight across his ribcage. His ebony hair was now home to few silver streaks. Dark stubble on his face stood out against his pale skin… He had not been given the opportunity to wash or shave in quite some time, it appeared. There were dark circles under his eyes, making them look sunken in and contributing to the ugliness of his poor face. He looked so haggard. Though he was still rather young, not yet fifty, his sad eyes held the appearance of one who had seen the worst of life… One who was so tired… One who was prepared to lie down and sleep and never wake up…

Christine immediately started to weep.

Erik shook his head and began talking to himself again. "Women screaming… Children crying… No music left… None! Marie-Eve? I promised you I'd be back… I'm so sorry, mon Ange de Musique…" Then he began to sing. "Hush-a-bye mon ange. You'll be alright…"

Erik's words soothed Christine. His voice was as soft and as gentle as she remembered.

Erik rocked back and forth, singing to himself. He closed his eyes. His mood suddenly changed. Christine realized that he was lost in a memory…

"In all your fantasies," he sang to himself,"you always knew that man and mystery–"

"Were both in you!" Christine cut in. Erik froze and stared at her.

"And in this labyrinth where night is blind," she continued, "the Phantom of the Opera is here inside my mind!"

Christine gave a small cough. She had not sung in over ten years. Not since she had left Erik… How good it felt! What joy it brought her to be singing again!

Erik peered at her through the darkness.

"…Christine?"

Christine removed her shawl. Erik covered his face with his hands.

"Please, don't look at me!"

Christine reached through the bars of his cage and pulled his hands from his face. "Erik? Please…"

His eyes were so full of shame. It reminded her of the night Marie-Eve was conceived. He pressed his hand against her cheek. "Oh, my Christine… My beautiful Christine…" he said sadly. "I have hurt you. I'm always hurting you."

"Where is my daughter?" she asked, desperately.

"Marie-Eve…" Erik whispered. "She must be so scared."

"Where is she?" Christine demanded.

Erik looked into her eyes. "Beneath the opera house. You know the way."

Christine nodded. "You don't know how much this means to me." She paused. "We could… We could tell the police about what that terrible man has done to you… We could get you out of here…"

"Boisvert knows," Erik said, staring at the floor. "He knows what I've done… About the murders… About Marie-Eve…" He met her gaze. "If you tell the police what you know about him, he'll retaliate by telling the police what he knows about me! And then my life is over…"

"But… But, Erik… There must be another way…"

"There is no other way!" he said harshly. Then he sighed. "I should just face it… I was meant to end my days this way… Locked up, like the animal I am… Not that I deserve anything less."

She gazed at him. "You're not an animal, Erik. You're a man."

Erik looked at her, then he reached through the bars of his cage and took her hand. "Please," he begged. "Don't tell her. Don't tell Marie-Eve the truth about me. Let her remember me as the angel she always thought I was. Not like this. Tell her anything! Tell her the Angel had to go away. Just don't tell her the truth. Please…"

Christine nodded. "I promise…"

Erik gave her hand a small squeeze, then raised it to his face and planted a small kiss on the back of it. He looked at her once more before letting her hand drop.

"Now go quickly. Your daughter is waiting."

Christine fled the fairgrounds with tears in her eyes. Erik wasn't a child anymore, she realized.

He really was a father…

XxXxX

Marie-Eve was curled up beside the organ.

Papa said he would be back soon…

He said he would be back soon…

She was so alone…

For the fist time since the Angel of Music had taken her from her home, Marie-Eve wished that her mother were there.

Then she heard a splashing noise from the lake. She smiled as she realized that it was the boat coming back.

"Papa! Papa! You're back!" she cried, running down to the shore to meet him. What she saw stopped her dead in her tracks. Christine and Raoul were leaving the boat.

"Mama? Papa? What are you doing here?"

"Oh, Marie-Eve!" Christine ran to her and hugged her.

"Mama, I'm so sorry! The Angel of Music brought me here. He's real, Mama! He's really real!"

"I know, mon ange," Christine whispered. "But it's time to go home now."

"But… the Angel! He'll be angry if he comes back and finds out that I left!"

Trying hard to ignore her protests, Raoul lifted Marie-Eve into the boat. The three of them crossed the lake again. They brought her to the surface where the horses where waiting.

"I can't go!" Marie-Eve wailed. "The Angel was teaching me to sing! He was going to make me a prima donna! He promised!"

"The Angel isn't coming back," Christine told her quietly.

"But he promised!"

"Come on," Raoul said, getting ready to help Marie-Eve into his horse's saddle. "It's time to go."

"No!" Marie-Eve yelled, running from his arms. She dashed away through the streets, turning down a side street and disappearing.

Raoul chased after her. "Marie-Eve!" But she was very fast. Raoul slowed and stopped, breathless. He had lost her in the maze of the city streets. His shoulders slumped. It was useless.

Christine caught up to him. "What will we do?"

But she knew as well as Raoul did that she could not make Marie-Eve do anything she didn't want to do. If the child didn't want to be found, she would not be found. Marie-Eve – wherever she was – was on her own.

XxXxX

Alrighty, then! Plot bunnies are on the loose again, it seems...

Oh, I was asked to translate those two French songs that Marie-Eve and Erik were singing a couple chapters ago. The translator I used is kind of messed up, so I had to roughly figure out the lyrics between itand my grade nine Frenchknowledge, so any fluent speakers may find fault in some of the translations. But this is basically what theysaid...Here's the Phantom of the Opera:

ME: At night in my sleep, a man appears. His voice bursts in me, his voice summons me. This would bea dream still, but this time I know that the Phantom of Opera is there, in me.

E: Tonight, the scene is made. Our songs mix. My hand, my words, my voice, I bewitch you. And if your soft glance is lost sometimes, you know that the Phantom of Opera is there, in you.

ME: Those who see your face are filled with fear. I am a mask for you.

E: I am your voice.

And here's Music of the Night:

ME: Born in the shade, the emotion of nothingness. In the black, our true dreams are played. Yield to the pleasure... it's beautiful anddefenseless...

E: Without noise, the night comes to surprise you. The night informs you, vibrating and to tend. Leave the light, the mourning of the vulgar day. Forget its cruel and cold glare. The night, you see, sings only for you.

ME: Thanks to me, you will know what your heart expresses. By me only, it opens with the word. My voice, transports you far from the ground, andyour spirit rises farthen flies.

E: Softly, softly, my song will be born. Yield, make itsuccumb to your being. Dare to open your mind, leave far behind your small fears. This darkness, no one knows and cannot fight... this darkness which sings only for you.

ME: Let me show youthe key to another world. Leave far behindwhat makes your life up there. Deliver yourself to the powers of the night. Promiseme that you will pay this price.

E: Float and movewith the feel of my caresses. Touch me, give in tome, until you are intoxicated. The night culminates,your obscure being inclines itself with the notes which my muse imposes on me... these notes whichsing only for you... In my night I have awaited your voice... From now on it sings only for me...

Review, please! The closet's empty right now... Erik's starting to feel lonely... I guess I get my five minutes then! (Heads for the closet).

Erik: Aaaauuuuggg! Not again! Someone review right now! Please!