A/N:My bunny is getting better, and should be able to come home on Saturday! Yay! Anyway, I decided to post a new chapter to celebrate. Hope you enjoy!

It took a while for Leon to heat the metal poker he held in his hand; Erik wasn't sure exactly how long, but he heard the madman's voice droning in his ears for what seemed like an eternity. He tried to follow what he was saying, gain some clue as to how Leon could be manipulated, but the blood that oozed from his gunshot wound and the pain of breathing while stretched out the way he was had sapped his strength. He could only hear a dull buzz that he took to be Leon's voice. The words blurred together into an endless noise that barely penetrated his rapidly slowing mind.

At this point, he was fairly sure he would be dead before long. He wanted to just drift out of consciousness, and fall asleep forever, but it seemed Leon was looking for ways to prolong his suffering, and make his death more painful. The thought was something of a comfort; while Leon was here, he was not looking for Remy, who would soon be safely on the train to Marseille. Without Remy, he may as well be dead anyway, so there was some poetic justice in the fact that Leon's sudden obsession with torturing the truth out of him was actually defeating his goal of finding and killing Remy. And if there was one thing Erik had always enjoyed, it was poetic justice. That and killing people like Leon, but considering his present circumstances, that was becoming a more and more remote possibility.

I believe I ran even faster than I had that first night I entered the opera house. Then, I had been driven by fear; now it was love that pushed me onwards. It was a strange sensation, this realization that I loved him; like clouds over my mind had been lifted, letting sunshine through. It would have been nice if the weather had cleared in response to my change in mood; if the sun had driven the rain away to reflect my newfound joy. But my life was hardly a fairy tale, and the sky remained stubbornly soggy, refusing to give in to the romance of the moment. This was rather unfortunate, as I managed to slip on the damp cobblestones more than once; I managed to keep my footing, but only barely, and was forced to check my speed for fear that I would fall on the pavement and bash my head open before I even had time to play out the romantic scenario running through my mind.

I told myself not to give my imagination such a loose rein, but I was thoroughly lost in the expectation of a perfect reunion. I told myself that life never went the way of romance novels; that such unlikely turns rarely had happy endings. That I couldn't just go fling myself into his arms and tell him what I had discovered. That he was more likely to refuse to come with me than to accept. That he might not even be happy to see me.

But such doubts never last long in the mind of a woman in love; such a wayward emotion will not allow itself to be trampled and crushed; not by reason, not by intellect, not by anything so mundane as worry and fear.

If I had not been soaked to the skin before, I certainly was now. My clothes were wet and cold against my skin, and felt heavier now that they were saturated with rain. I was indeed severely uncomfortable, but the fire in my heart was doing its best to keep me warm, and succeeding more than I would ever have given it credit for. All I could think about was sitting with Erik by a warm fire somewhere, both of us wrapped in blankets. Better yet, both of us wrapped in the same blanket...

I remembered that night, that seemed so long ago, when I had sat by his feet and rested my head against him as he played, and imagined doing so again, this time with nothing on my mind but the feel of having him close to me. I was so busy wondering what a love like that would be like that I completely missed the street that I was supposed to turn on to get to the opera house.

Feeling like a complete idiot, I turned back, furious at myself for wasting precious time that could be spent explaining to Erik exactly why he had to come with me to Marseille, and doing whatever had to be done to convince him.

It wouldn't be easy; he was so afraid of human contact, and with good reason. He had been scorned by his mother, displayed in a cage to be laughed at and jeered by anyone willing to pay, and rejected by the lucky girl he had fallen in love with. It was my task now to prove that there were good people in this world, people who would respect him for his talent, and look beyond his deformity. I had seen enough cruelty in this world to understand his fear, but I had also seen enough selfless kindness to want to show him that he was wrong. I could not let him continue his lonely life when I was so sure that I could find a way to bring him into the light.

If Marseille turned out to be as cruel as Paris, we would go somewhere else, anywhere else. Italy, Spain, England...even America, if that was what it took to find some peace for him. I had nothing to lose by staying at his side, and everything to gain. I would wake him from the solitude he was so sound asleep in. I would be his awakening, his reveiller. And I would make him love me.

The first thing Leon did with the poker was seal Erik's leg wound.

"Couldn't have you bleeding to death before I'm done." He remarked cheerily, while Erik gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the smell of charred flesh that rose to his nostrils, and the white-hot pain spreading up his thigh. It was only physical; it meant nothing. He would ignore it. Just ignore it. Think of something else; think of Remy. Think of her smile. Think of her eyes. Think of everything but the pain.

Suddenly, the burning pain had moved to his shoulder wound, and he cried out involuntarily.

"I don't like being ignored! I asked you a question, and all I want is an honest answer! Can you answer me, monster? I want an answer!"

He jabbed the poker into Erik's side, but he was ready for it this time and didn't make a noise.

"That was impulsive of me. Not at all effective, I daresay. I have a problem with my temper, you see."

Erik was tempted to comment that his temper wasn't the only thing he had a problem with, but he couldn't form the words.

"You are a very strange man. Most men would have talked by now. I really don't know why you bother to protect her. She isn't worth it. Do you think she will mourn over you once you are dead? She won't, you know. Ungrateful little hussy. Anyway, that isn't really the point, is it? The point is, I need a way to get that information out of you. Perhaps I ought to try a new toy? Or just go back to an old favorite of mine."

With a sickening smile, he pulled a letter opener out of his coat. "You see this lovely little tool?" He waved it in front of Erik's face. "Remy actually had the gall to use it on me. Gave me this horrid little scar with it." He pointed to the raised red mark on his face. "Not very useful the way it was, so I sharpened it a bit. Now it has a nice point, a sharp edge. Normally, I would have just bought myself a knife, but I like the symbolism of using this one, you know what I mean? Poetic, ironic, and all that. I gave her a similar scar, you may have noticed"

You'll never get the chance to give her another, you filthy bastard, Erik thought, steeling himself for the pain he knew was coming.

A/N: Remember, if you want to know what happens, post a review.