(A/N to VagrantCandy: His situation is very sad. I'm an Erik lover, don't get me wrong! He's such a pitiful creature… Thanks for all the reviews you've left me!

To LovinRKO: Kill him! Well now, let's not be brash! I love dear Erik. –strokes him- It's good to hear you're in suspense.. my plan is going perfectly to… plan!

To Dani: Oh yes. Simply Brilliant. Thanks for the review!

To Charity: -shifty eyes- I hope people realize he didn't just throw up for no reason. He's going through withdrawl from morphine. I didn't make that very clear… Oh well. Anywhoodle, this is no Gerry Phantom. I think Gerard Butler is the hottest man alive, but truthfully, he's no phantom. My Erik is all rough lines and jutting movements, his face is –horribly- marred, not just a sunburn of doom. As of now, he's also looking pretty nasty. He's incredibly malnourished. –cringy face- bones being all pokey, and uhh… because of the addiction, his skin and stuff is gross. I think chapter six pretty much sums up his looks.

To KD: Thank you for the review dahling! Anika's response is deeper than it appears. You'll learn more in this chapter. Also, It flatters me to be admired! Thank you for the kind words.

Sorry for the horrid long time it took me to update! Like I said, I've got a very busy schedule. When school starts, it won't be getting any less hectic. -- Darnit. )

Chapter ten: Slow Interrupted Recovery

The man's face was wet with icy sweat, his skin burning with fever. Long locks of matted brown hair hung limply around his face; his eyelids fluttering as a warm hand gently brushed the hair away from his features. Anika sat beside the mysterious man, having pulled over the chair from the hearth. Her breath was shallow –but steady none the less. She was wrapped in a warm quilt, the material trying to protect her from the bitter wintry chill finding it's way into the secluded room. To be blunt, Anika was not healthy. She was a mere step above the man she was nursing, but she took her responsibilities in stride.

Jennet had all but stopped caring for this stranger, her practices for the new production getting in the way. The young dancer knew how important it was that Jennet was well practiced, and was grateful the woman had nursed her when she was bedridden in the worst part of her illness. It was the least she could do to watch over this unnamed man sharing their quarters, for he really wasn't too much of a bother. Retching and twitching was about all he managed, save for the moans of tortuous agony uttered between fits. Anika hadn't the slightest clue what exactly ailed the man, but she did her best to keep him clean and as fed as possible. The man was swimming in his own skin he was, no meat on his bones.

However, it was the man's face that kept her going. The hope that soon he would be well enough to talk, and she could question him of his history. To be truthful, she found his appearance loathsome and disgusting. It was as if he had been horribly burned, then a wild beast unleashed to claw at his flesh. Simply vile in every aspect. When he had gazed upon his face when she had first come to his aid, something struck her. Something lurking in those eyes… Was it fear? Hatred? Or… could it possibly be the exact opposite. Hope or love? She would just have to wait and see. For now Anika was content to sit by and watch, trying to regain strength and purpose.

xXx

The eve of Sunday night was fast approaching. For seven days the nameless man had slept restlessly, awaking only to empty the contents of his stomach. Nightmares haunted his slumber, such horrible visions none other could even begin to imagine. Each time he tumbled from the daybed with convulsions Anika would get up from her chair and walk slowly and carefully the few steps to his side. She would stroke his face, soothingly placating him as she replaced his body on the daybed. Each day Anika was progressing in strength, but she still could not walk across the room without being short of breath. It was torture to be awake, but unable to move freely. Her mind began to invent a story behind why this man was here, for Jennet had yet to inform her of just who he was.

Really she found it horrid not to even know the name of her patient, but she hadn't the heart to question Jennet. The woman was gone before Anika even woke, and never returned before she fell asleep. It was as if she no longer even entered her quarters. Reaching up to place a strand of golden red hair behind her ear, a knock startled Anika away from her thoughts.

"Hello?"

She called out hesitantly, wondering who was coming in so late. If it were Jennet, she would just come right in. It was her rooms after all. The rapping came again, and Anika stood slowly. It sounded almost frantic; as if someone was only barely restraining himself or herself from barging right in the door. Wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, she hurried forward.

"May I ask who it is?"

Anika called through the wood, her hand resting on the grain as she put her ear to the door gently. She was met with more knocking, the harsh rap jarring her head as she pulled back in surprise. Her brows furrowed at the strange behavior of whoever was behind the door, and she made up her mind not to answer it. As of now, she was just a sickly young woman, hardly able to fight off whatever kind of plausibly dangerous person who might be lurking behind the facade of a closed door. If they weren't going to answer her, she wasn't going to answer them.

"I'm not going to fall for any tricks you… you… person! If you don't tell me who you are, this door shall remained locked!"

Her voice shook a bit with the last word, and she hoped it hadn't sounded too awfully false. The entryway wasn't actually locked, and she worried briefly that the person might catch her insincerity. When there was no replying knock, Anika nodded her head strongly and turned back towards her chair. That had taken care of the matters at hand.

As Anika made her way back towards the strange man on the daybed, it wouldn't be a lie to say she didn't hear the disheveled sigh of a very disappointed person denied entry to the chambers. It also wouldn't be false to say she didn't see the crème colored envelope pushed hastily under the door, or hear the soft swish of skirts as a person very light on their feet descended the winding metal staircase leading away from Jennet's chamber door. For in that exact moment, her mysterious guest found enough of a break in his fitful slumber to try and toss the contents on his stomach again.

xXx

Hours later, as darkness reigned supreme over the fickle light of the dieing hearth embers, the heavy door of Jennet's chambers was pushed open gingerly. The tired woman standing in the doorway was etched in fatigue, her eyelids drooping dangerously low as she reached up to shield her burning lantern-light. Her dark eyes glanced casually over to the curled up for of Anika –her knees drawn up into her chest and she slept soundly in the hearth chair.

Jennet ran a hand through her hair, watching as tendrils on light from her lantern glazed over the person on her daybed. Erik. Even her thoughts dripped with disgust at his very presence. Her gaze swept across the room in a wide arch, looking for anything misplaced or mussed. She didn't trust this seemingly helpless man. He was the opera ghost for the Lord's sake! How could you put anything past him? Jennet didn't have the heart to tell Anika she was leaving her alone with the terror of the theater, and so her ignorance haunted Jennet's every thought. What if he was to wake? Rape, or even murder her poor little darling! Rubbing one of her temples irritably, Jennet placed her foot into the room. The soft scrape of paper on stone seemed to awaken her a bit, and she glanced down to the floor with an arched eyebrow.

What was this? A note? Bending down and picking up the paper between her slim fingers, Jennet eyed the outside of the envelope curiously. Certainly neither of the occupants of her room had had anything to do with it… Looking over to Anika anxiously, she almost expected the young woman to be returning the stare. What was she kidding? The recovering you woman was fast asleep. Of coarse she was- Jennet thought to herself mockingly- who wouldn't be at this hour?

Placing the parchment on her nightside table, Jennet didn't even bother to undress. She placed the lantern next to the letter, climbed gracelessly into her bed and blew out the wick of her light. This strange note was nothing that couldn't wait until morning. Already sleep was claiming her, the complete and total darkness of the room only helping the process along. Jennet sincerely doubted she would even be able to read the print with her current state of fatigue, much less comprehend what exactly she was looking at.

It was nothing that couldn't wait until morning…

(A/N: Ahhh. A cliffhanger. You like chapter? Read and review people. If I hit thirty reviews before the end of the week, the writing will be produced muuuuch faster. Just remember, reviews spawn inspiration!)