Who was she?

How did heal my scars?

What does she want from me?

Why is she helping?

Question after question continued to race through Erik's mind. Although Marie-Christine provided some answers, Erik still found he possessed a thousand more questions. His interest in Marie-Christine was certainly piqued after the demonstration of her unique abilities. She was indeed an extraordinary young lady. He watched as she slept soundly, following the rise and fall of her chest with each breath she took. It actually had a rather calming effect on Erik.

For someone who had been through so much in such a short time, she appeared to be truly at peace with her lot in life. As he continued to watch Marie-Christine sleep, a strange thought crossed Erik's mind.

He wondered if she would want to come back and live with him at the Opera Populaire or wherever he might choose. That much was as yet undetermined. Erik almost shuddered at the thought. On the one hand, she would certainly bring light to his otherwise dark and dismal existence. Marie-Christine's presence in Erik's lair would be like a beacon in the night; shining her light wherever she chose to go or upon whosever life she managed to touch. Her kindness, caring and generosity had indeed affected Erik in the short time he'd come to know her. However, he didn't know if he would want to introduce Marie-Christine to the world of lies and deceit along with the terror and despair that had become so much a part of his existence.

Erik knew what he did was a necessary evil in order survive; whether it be stealing a piece of furniture, making monetary demands of Messieurs Firmin and André or the occasional murder, such as Joseph Buquet. However, Erik did have one other concern. If someone were to discover Marie-Christine's unique abilities, he was afraid that she would be treated as he was: an outcast and pariah within society. That was an option Erik dared not to entertain. He'd lived that nightmare; no correction . . . he was still living it. If only he were a normal person, then he could have a regular life; a family for which he could care; someone to love and someone who loved him in return. Erik knew that Marie-Christine was someone full of life with so much to offer.

Consequently, he was beginning to have feelings for this being, this creature of beauty, this unique individual, this . . . soul. Each time he was able to bring down one wall and see further into her heart, another one landed squarely in its place. He paused for a moment, letting out a breath that he forgot he had been holding.

"Clear you mind," he admonished himself; not realizing he was speaking aloud. He needed to organize his priorities. Breaking himself out of his momentary daydream, Erik stood up and walked into the front room. He found the small armoire that Marie-Christine spoke of earlier. Opening it, Erik did not see much in the way of additional or even suitable clothing. He wondered where Marie-Christine had come upon the garments he now wore; another question that would remain unanswered for now. There was however, the one lone cloak and scarf she had mentioned earlier. Erik would be able to hide his appearance as he ventured out into the city. Now that he was somewhat dressed for the evening, Erik headed to the front door. Soon, he was back in the heart of Paris.

Paris nightlife was unique unto its own. Many had tried to define it within works of literature, but to really understand the pulse of the city; one had to live the life of a Parisian. One had to smell the fresh baked bread and croissants that even some vendors would sell late at night, or the scent of fine tobacco that wafted through the air. Each corner possessed its own entertainment of sorts; from street performers to prostitutes to young boys holding newspapers; promising the latest and often bloodiest headlines. Erik continued to walk through the rain-slicked and noisy streets of the night. He watched as life passed right before him and was pleasantly surprised that he actually seemed to blend right into this underworld as it were.

Looking around, Erik felt a slight smile tug at the corners of his mouth. No matter how many times he'd seen it, he couldn't help but be in awe at the marvel of Paris and all that it had to offer. Although the Opera House was closed; in part due to the damage he'd inflicted upon it that did not stop the beat of the city. Vendors sold their wares. People walked the streets. Life, as many knew it, simply continued.

Making his way to a small newsstand, Erik could not help but overhear a conversation that caught his interest.

"Did you hear what happened?" one gentleman asked.

"You mean the Opera House?" the other responded.

Erik felt obligated to listen. He didn't really care what people thought of what happened at the Opera House. All he knew that on that fateful night, his heart was ripped in two. He'd professed his love for Christine and in return, she had unmasked him for the world to see.

"No…I mean…Christine Daaé," the first man continued.

Erik's interest was piqued once more. Picking up a newspaper, he pretended to read as he continued to listen to the conversation.

"She died," he informed the second man.

"What happened?" the second man asked.

"I'm not sure, but it's here in the newspaper," the first man indicated.

Erik quickly turned to his attention to the newspaper in hand. The headline caught his attention.

"Christine Daaé, Opera Populaire Diva, found dead…."

Erik continued to read the article. Apparently, she'd been found dead on the morning of following the disaster at the Opera Populaire. The cause of her death was not certain at the time, but speculation leaned towards the mysterious Phantom that had haunted the Opera as being the culprit.

Erik bowed his head, allowing a small sob to escape from his lips. Numbness began to overtake his mind, body and soul. He didn't know what he to do. Christine was everything to him.

If only I had made her stay with me . . .

If only I had killed Raoul . . .

If only I had . . .

Thought after thought, both rational and not, flooded Erik's mind. He replayed the earlier events over and over again. Was there anything he could have done differently? After knowing her for so long, she essentially became his reason for being, his joie de vivre. Now, she was gone.

Why was the world so cruel to him? What did he do to deserve such pain and agony? Erik continued to wonder, to try and rationalize all that occurred. He finally came to a simple conclusion.

I am not allowed to love; to live the life of a normal human being. I was cursed the day I was born and shall remain so until the day I die.

For Erik, it seemed to be that every time he found the happiness that he had truly sought, it was eventually ripped from his hands. It was as if someone were toying with him; allowing him momentary hints of pleasure and joy in life and then reminding him of the monster he truly was. He thought of Christine and the happiness her voice brought to his life. He also thought of the pain that came with the love he shared for her as well. It was truly unbearable.

And then Erik's thoughts returned for a moment to Marie-Christine. What of her? He mused to himself. She had entered his life through a series of events that were beyond her control. He felt that the two were becoming one . . . Christine and Marie-Christine…Marie-Christine and Christine…

Where would it all end?

The turmoil that Erik thought he buried following Christine's departure returned once more; ready to rip his heart in two. Erik placed two fingers to the bridge of his nose. He head was beginning to hurt. He didn't know what he was going to do. He was truly lost. He felt he was truly . . . alone.