"Leave." He whispered. "Leave, and don't you dare come back. Do you hear me?" His voice became raised, as her face twisted into despair. "I don't want you near me. Go! Go NOW!"

Erik screamed at Christine. He watched her scramble up in distress and flee through the large iron doors. He was gasping for breath; his head was swimming from the sudden chase and realization of who had been brought to him. No sooner had he tried to banish Christine from his mind, she was here, in his house, and he had banished her all together from his life.

Nasih had entered Erik's bedroom gingerly. Erik had been sat at a desk, drawing and sketching nothing of importance, and had turned to watch Nasih with a guilt stamped face. He greeted Erik, mumbling, asking how he was. Erik decided not to reply, as Nasih knew perfectly well what he wanted to here. Why was he in Persia and not watching over Christine? He burned holes into Nasih as he stumbled over words to find to explain the situation.

"Master…something…well...it did, it was terrible…something terrible happened."

Erik felt his heart stop. He felt completely helpless and sick. What had happened to her? He would never forgive himself if the damn Vicomte had done anything to her. He would hunt him down and kill him.

"You tell me right now, what happened?" Erik growled at the guilt filled man. He was loosing his patience with him, and made to force the answer out of him, but Nasih replied.

"I…I had no choice! I…I had to bring her…Christine…she's here."

Erik saw red. He was frozen to the spot for a few seconds, before dropping his decanter in shock, sending glass everywhere. He felt uncontrollable rage boiling in his blood, and all he could see was the man responsible, Nasih.

"WHAT!" He roared. Nasih flinched at the man, raging towards him, standing only a few inches taller than he was, but radiating such anger and power that Nasih felt like a bug about to be squashed. They both suddenly heard a scream from outside, and retreating footsteps. Erik's heart stopped. Christine.

He forgot completely about Nasih and burst his bedroom doors open. He spotted the figure in the dark corridor, half limping, half running, or what they could manage in layers of skirts. He pelted after her, his mind racing with thoughts and memories he had tried to forget, and now she had brought them right back with her presence.

He saw the figure falter at the staircase, and tumble down, tripping in panic. For a fleeting moment, he felt worried. Worried that she had hurt herself. But it was soon over when he saw her cowering at the foot of the stairs.

Her curls where falling out of the tied bun and her skirts and dark veils of muslin in disarray. She was almost crying, but Erik didn't hear. All he could hear were the demons in his head wishing her gone, wishing her to get up and run further. Away from him, away from Persia, and back to her lover. The thought of Raoul brought anger to his heart, and he flipped her over aggressively.

Why had she come to him? Wasn't it enough for her that she had destroyed him as someone with a soul? Did she want to rub it into his face one more time that her precious husband was not him? No, he would not let her; he would not allow previous feelings for her to stand in the way this time. Christine was no longer a part of his life. She was a bad nightmare, retreating away on a gondolier, clutching to her fiancée, leaving him to die in his tomb under the Opera.

And there she was again, running from him. She held that look of fear she had every time he saw her in a nightmare. The nightmares were he would reveal his face to her and she would squirm in disgust and run. His heart was breaking once more. He did not deserve this.

Erik collapsed on the cool floor, head in hands. He did not cry, but gasped heavily. He could not straighten his feelings. Anger, hatred, remorse, despair…guilt? He suddenly stopped. His mind had just pulled something from the deep darkness that he had tried to repress so much that it had been a dark hole in his heart for a long time. A promise. A promise that led to the hiring of Nasih, a promise that he had just broken by sending Christine fleeing from him.

He had promised to live for Christine's safety.

He leaped up with amazing speed, and bolted towards his door.

Erik ran blindly out of his grounds and through his gates. It was dusk by this time, and light was scarce at this time of night, although he gave no care to who saw him now. All that he could think of was his self hatred. What had he done? No matter what she had done to him, he could not let her die. He had to know she was safe. It was one of the reasons she had let her leave him with that bastard Vicomte.

The streets were hard to navigate at this time of night, but Erik kept running. He turned as little as possible, remembering Christine's remorse state, and knowing she would not have known where to run. He felt sick for ever making her feel like that. He bellowed her name a few times when searching, until finally, he came to a complete stop. There, in the middle of a dust filled path was a black clad figure, sprawled across the floor.