Good grief! I hadn't expected such an onslaught of pokes after the last chapter. Scary... but it appears to be working. Here's the next chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter 24

I grew more and more restless and uneasy as the days crawled by. Both Meg and Richard seemed to be treading carefully around me, like I would break under even the slightest amount of extra pressure. Not that this wasn't essentially true. Particularly after my conversation with Meg.

No matter how many times she said it had only been a silly, childish comment, and that it didn't really mean anything, it had been like throwing petrol on a burning fire. My paranoia had simply exploded, and now every stomach twinge was attributed to my being pregnant. It certainly hadn't helped my state of mind and the weekend seemed such a long way away. It would be such a relief to get a test done and leave at least one problem behind.

… or have to deal with a much bigger one.

And one constant worry was my lack of contact with Erik. I had not seen or spoken to him since returning to England, but I felt no more relaxed because of it. I think it would have been more reassuring to know where he was… and at least have some vague idea of what he was doing, even if it was only watching me. Did he know what I had done? And if he did… what terrible things might he be plotting for me, wherever he was? God only knew… if he was capable of returning to the place where he was raised and setting it alight, killing seven people in the process.

I went back to that website several times over the next few days, reading over the stories again and again until every single detail was branded into my brain. There was still no response from the doctor, and I began to despair of ever hearing from him. Perhaps it simply wasn't the policy of the hospital to pass on weird messages to former employees. It had been a long shot anyway.

On the Friday evening I was feeling no better physically, mentally or emotionally. Even my friends couldn't make me feel any better. Richard tried, in some small way, to comfort me, but I was reluctant to let him get too close now, because of the danger it might put him in.

"I don't care," he said with remarkable calm. "I'm in danger whatever I do, so I might as well make you feel a little better. Besides… you said yourself we're just friends."

That was true… I had said. But now, after telling him about Erik and my situation, I was less sure of how I wanted things to be. And I was afraid that Erik might pick up on it, if he saw us… or that I might not be able to control myself and end up just falling into Richard's arms.

"No," I replied as sternly as I could. "I just… I need to get through this."

"You can't… not by yourself."

"I know… I know. But if I start breaking down every few minutes I'm going to turn into a wet, damsel in distress type." I forced a brave smile on my face, and he returned it a little.

"Can't have that," he remarked before turning serious once more. "But you know I'm right here if you need me don't you."

He put his hand on my shoulder, and I swallowed hard, unable to stop the comparison between his warmth and Erik's cold touch. When I didn't push him away he slipped his entire arm around my shoulders and gave me a slight squeeze. I allowed him, feeling as though I deserved this after all that had happened. Obviously, Richard didn't know some of the more personal details… I could never pluck up the courage to tell him that I had slept with Erik, and had made Meg swear on her life to not say a word… and all I could hope for was that circumstances would never come about where he would know the truth, and the full extent of my betrayal.

Betrayal? So now I had been betraying Richard? Well… maybe I had in the beginning, allowing myself to be with Erik when we were still going out. And even if we hadn't been together when I had slept with Erik, somehow my brain refused to let the matter rest. The feelings stirring inside me made it feel like I had betrayed him.

Well, I thought bitterly to myself, I had betrayed just about everyone else. Just add one more to the ever growing list.

"I'm scared," I said, in a distinctly flat tone.

"I don't blame you," Richard replied.

"I haven't heard from Erik in so long," I told him, biting my lip with nervousness. "I should have heard from him by now."

"Maybe he's still back in Rome?"

I shook my head. "Even if he was, he'd have contacted me. Something's wrong… I can feel it."

"You don't know that for sure," Richard said, trying to be reassuring in the face of my rather bleak pessimism.

"But I just…"

"Stop it," Richard's voice interrupted me, sounding almost angry. I looked up at him, disbelieving. "You're not doing yourself any good… you have to try and stop worrying all the time."

"Easy for you to say," I said with a slight smile.

But he pushed on, serious now. "Really… you've got to try and calm down. Give it time. We'll think of something, I promise."

I stared at him for a few moments, hardly able to believe the warm comfort he was giving me, after all that had happened. "Why are you doing this?" I asked miserably. "After everything I've done… why do you still want to help me?"

There was a long moment of silence, and as I watched his expression, I dreaded what Richard would say in response to my question. But I watched his lips part, and I knew it was too late to take it back and pretend I had said nothing.

"Because," he said, slowly and carefully, "… I love you."

His soft brown eyes gazed down at me, filled with an emotion that only increased my feelings of sadness. That care and concern… it almost reminded me of the way Erik had once looked at me. In fact, sitting in this music room, side by side on the piano bench, I was reminded of the time I had met Erik in the Assembly Hall… how he had been so concerned for my health after being out in the rain… how he had been thoughtful enough to lend me his coat for the extra warmth…

Mournfully, I reached up and rubbed my fingers around my neck. The marks there were fading quickly now, but I was sure that even when they faded I would still feel them… as though Erik's icy, merciless fingers would always be closed around my throat… ready to choke me…

My reflection almost broke the moment of Richard's confession, but I snapped myself out of it as quickly as I could, shaking my head slowly.

"Richard…"

"I know," he interrupted. "I know… and it's okay. I'm not asking you for anything in return…"

"Richard… it's not that," I said, nearly heart-broken by the resigned expression on his handsome face. "You just… you know how dangerous this is."

"And I told you," he said forcefully, removing his arm from my shoulders and taking my face in his two hands. "I don't care."

He was so close I could feel his warmth breath on my face. The intimacy of it sent a shiver through me that Richard almost mistook for fear and he began to pull away. Just as his hands began slipping away from my face I gripped his arms and before I could even think about the consequences, pulled myself against him in a tight hug… so tight I was almost worried I might crack one of his ribs. After a few seconds of feeling nothing, he put his arms around me too and held me back gently, cradling me as I cried quietly against his shoulder.

Eventually we had to pull away from each other, since our bodies were twisted so awkwardly on the piano stool. The moment he saw the tears on my cheeks Richard began brushing them aside and my breathing shuddered in my lungs. This was so dangerous… too dangerous… what if…

And then he kissed me.

I was a bundle of mixed emotions by the time I got back to my room. My mouth was still tingling from where Richard had kissed me, and I was still unsure of exactly how to feel about it. Good? Bad? Worried? Well… certainly the latter.

Sitting in my chair, I wearily banged my head on my desk as a kind of punishment for my stupidity. Why? Why had I let Richard kiss me? More importantly… why hadn't I pushed him away instantly? If Erik had seen… if he ever found out…. Why the hell was I putting Richard at risk? Come to think of it… I might be putting myself at risk too. If Erik were angry enough, who knew what he might do in retaliation?

I was such an idiot. How could I be so unbelievably stupid?

I continued to bang my head, frustrated with myself and my life.

Stupid… bang… stupid… bang… stupid…

I jumped suddenly as my phone sprang to life with a loud ringing right next to my ear. It took a few seconds for me to clear my head enough to risk answering it. If it was Erik on the other end, I needed to be clear-minded… I couldn't let him in on the fact that something was wrong. But still, as I reached out and picked the phone up off the desk, I dreaded the conversation about to take place.

I pushed the button and lifted the phone to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Excuse-moi? Mademoiselle Day?"

For a few seconds I went completely blank. Who was calling me? And talking to me in French? Then my memory caught up with me and, far from having too little air, I suddenly felt as though my lungs were going to burst with it.

"Monsieur Debienne?" I asked warily. You wanted to speak with me

"Oui, Madmoiselle. Voulez-vous parler avec moi?"

I faltered. It had been a long time, nearly two years, since I had last taken a French class, or even spoken the language, and this man spoke so quickly I was barely certain of what I heard. Finally I collected my thoughts together enough to remember what little French I knew.

"Parlez-vous anglais, Monsieur?"

There was a pause at the other end of the phone, and for a second I thought the man had hung up. Biting my lip, I waited to hear some reply… any reply.

"Yes, mademoiselle," he said at length, speaking very slowly and carefully, the French accent making it a little difficult to understand his words. "Pardon… I did not know you were English."

"Sorry, Monsieur," I said, taking care also to speak slowly, for his benefit. My stomach felt all squirmy with nerves and I stood up, pacing the room, wondering how this conversation was going to go. "I am… very happy you called me." Well, 'happy' wasn't exactly the word to use, but it was all I could think of to say at this point.

"Yes… your e-mail was very… interesting. I was surprised to read it."

Swallowing hard, and I readied myself for the big question. "So… you do know Erik?"

At the other end of the phone there was a long and weary sigh. "Oui, mademoiselle… I know him. But… you know him also? I do not understand… how?"

"It's a long story," I said feeling constricted all through my body, as if I was wrapped in tight bandages, like an Egyptian mummy. The last thing I needed to talk about now was what had happened between me and Erik. It had been hard enough telling Richard. "I… I need to ask you about him."

"Yes… please ask. I will help."

"You were at the hospital when he was there, weren't you?"

"Ah, oui… it was a terrible place for him."

"Why?"

Another sigh down the phone. "You know him, mademoiselle? You know his… his face?"

In spite of myself I shuddered… not at the memory of Erik's face but at remembering what had happened after I saw it. I barely managed to whisper a yes in reply to the doctor's question, and he must have mistaken my hushed tone for breathless disgust.

"Oui… the poor boy."

I agreed with that, certainly, and picked up instantly the regret in the man's voice. I guessed that, during his time at the hospital, he had cared about Erik. It was so strange to actually think about that… to talk to this man who had known Erik.

But did he know what Erik was capable of?

"His life is hard…" the man went on quietly down the phone. "It makes him hard too."

Well, I could certainly understand that. I'd seen the proof of it myself… I saw it every time I looked at my neck in the mirror. My hand almost moved to touch the bruises there, but I willed it to remain on my desk, the palm hot and sticky with sweat.

"Tell me about what happened to him," I asked in a rush. At the silence from the man at the other end I repeated the question for slowly, and waited as he thought it over, perhaps wondering where to begin, or simply trying to find the right words in English. When he did speak, his words were a little disjointed, but I understood well enough.

"Erik… he come to us when he was a baby. His mother bring him to the hospital. She did not understand and it was very difficult for her. They come in 1964… but she died after two days. It was… too difficult. You understand?"

I felt the lump in my throat grow worse. It was not hard to grasp the meaning of the doctor's words. Obviously the horror had been too much for the poor woman, and she had committed suicide. This made me both sad and angry. No matter how Erik looked, what kind of mother would take her own life rather than face the reality of the child she had brought into the world. Disfigured or not, he was still her child, and she left him alone in the hospital to face whatever horrors lurked there. I knew I would never do such a thing… or rather could never do such a thing. Suicide, I realised, would be the ultimate betrayal for Erik… an echo of his mother's rejection… saying that I would rather die than be with him, face him.

I couldn't do that to him.

"After she died…Erik stayed at the hospital. It was very dangerous for him. People wanted to see him… they fear him, hate him. In hospital they fear him too at first. Then they hurt him. When I go to see him, he have many bruises. They all think he is… not intelligent."

"That's ridiculous!" The exclamation was instinctive. The absurdity of the suggestion that Erik was stupid almost made me want to laugh. Who in their right mind would think that of him after looking in those eyes under the mask and seeing that cool, calculating gaze… after hearing him play the piano.

"Yes, mademoiselle. I know this too. But he… pretend. Make everyone think he is not intelligent."

"Why?"

"To… escape. But I hear him sing at night… and he play music. He is very intelligent. I try to say he is intelligent, but no one listen. I was not a doctor yet… they do not listen. They think he is no danger, and he escape. In… 1978… he escape."

1978…dear God, he would only have been fourteen, and fending for himself in a world full of cruelty and misunderstanding. I didn't like to imagine how hard things must have been for him. Given what had happened to him in the hospital, I couldn't blame him for hiding away under the streets, where no one would find him and torture him about the way he was.

"The fire…" I said softly into the phone.

"Ah, yes… the fire." He sounded as though he found it painful to speak of it.

"Was it Erik?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

"Yes. I think so. He wanted to hurt people who hurt him. He hated the hospital. First he escape… then he return to start the fire."

For revenge, I thought dismally. It all fell perfectly into place… the events that had taken place. Oh god… how horrible. Poor Erik… and those poor people at the hospital. Even if they had hurt him, did they really deserve to die? No doubt, in Erik's mind, they had. But… oh god, I was torn between pity and disgust. It was so hard to accept what Erik had done… but at the same time, I couldn't hate him for it… for any of it.

The long pause in the conversation required one of us to fill it, and I was so lost in my thoughts I barely caught the question Dr. Debienne put to me.

"What?"

"I do not understand… how do you know Erik? You are his friend?"

I swallowed painfully. "Sort of," I mumbled quietly, fearing the inevitable explanation. With a deep sigh I began to describe, in as simple terms as I could, exactly what had happened between me and Erik. It was difficult, with the language barrier, but we managed, and I could tell, as I went deeper into the story, that the doctor was growing more and more anxious.

"Mon Dieu…" he whispered breathlessly, when I described how I had first seen Erik's face.

"I know…" I said sullenly. I was quite amazed that I had managed to tell the story without breaking down in tears. Maybe I was all cried out by now… all that I felt was an ache, deeply rooted into my heart and stomach. There was another silence, more long and drawn out than the last, as the doctor thought about my actions, and probably the consequences too.

"He doesn't trust me now," I said.

"I am not surprised. If his face make his mother want to die…".

Oh god, of course… no wonder Erik didn't trust me anymore… no wonder he was so angry at my seeing his face. Knowing it had driven his own mother to suicide… what did he imagine it would make me do? I chewed fretfully on a nail, realising at last the full extent of the damage I had done to Erik.

"What can I do?" I asked desperately.

"I do not know," He said in a depressed voice. "I didn't think this would ever happen. Erik it does not like to make friends."

That did not surprise me. Knowing Erik like I did, it sometimes made me wonder why he had made such a concerted effort to work his way into my life. Well, for obvious reasons at first… he had wanted to frighten me into submission… so that I wouldn't dare breathe a word about him to anyone. But at some point it had become more than that. Why?

When I asked the doctor this very question, he seemed equally nonplussed about the situation.

"Perhaps your voice," he suggested thoughtfully. "He love music very much… and if your voice is good..."

That could be it. Given what I had been told, how Erik's sole comfort in that hospital was music, in any form he could get his hands on, it seemed reasonable to assume that this was why he had gained an interest in me. I knew how promising he thought my voice was, he'd told me often enough… helped me improve it… even done terrible things to allow it to be heard by others.

But was that it? It seemed unlikely that it would be the only reason. A reason, certainly, but not the only one. Why else? I tried to think… remembering, with a slight ache, my earliest encounters with Erik. I remembered how he had been so sympathetic about my being forced into coming to Rome, being sent away from my family… it had confused me at the time, since Erik had also been threatening me.

But his reassurance… that day I had walked in on him in my room… reading my diary…

My diary. My most intimate thoughts… spilled out on paper. How much of it had he read? Enough to know how miserable I felt? How I felt my life was out of my control? How constricted I felt? I almost laughed… how childish it must have appeared to him… to read all that silly complaining after all the things he had been through in life. My pain about leaving my family in Rome was nothing compared to the agony of having your mother commit suicide on your account.

Still… had he sympathized with me? Enough to want to watch over me? Take care of and, eventually, fall in love with me? Amidst all the worry and pain of the past week, this idea sent a feeling of such warmth coursing through me I began to smile, a real, genuine smile. If only that were true…

And if only I hadn't ruined it all.

"Mademoiselle?"

I woke myself up from my thoughts to resume my conversation, although I really felt there was little more to be said now.

"Yes?"

"What will you do now?" he asked.

Biting my lip anxiously, I looked towards my window, as if I expected to see Erik's outline somewhere in the shadows. A part of me hoped so… because I suddenly felt the urgent desire to speak to him about all this. Even if he was angry that I had pried into his life… the life he had wanted to forget about, it had awoken in me a new determination to see this through. Even if I still wasn't sure if I could save my relationship with Erik (if there was anything worth saving now), I knew I had to try.

"I'll talk to Erik," I said firmly.

"Mademoiselle…" the man began, worriedly.

I cut him off. "I know… I know he'll be angry. But I don't know what else to do. I can't just sit here and do nothing."

My tone was so firm there seemed to be nothing the doctor could say in response. He sighed and merely said that I should do what I thought was right. Sensing the inevitable goodbye, I thanks him profusely for his help. He waved it aside.

"Please… I want to help, very much."

"You have… thank you."

There was a slight, melancholicpause.

"Goodbye, mademoiselle."

"Goodbye."

I waited to hear the dial tone, and then set the phone down on my desk, staring at it for a good few minutes, lost in thought. Then, wearily, I leant my elbow on the hard surface, and rested the heel of my palm against my forehead. I didn't know whether I felt better or worse for having spoken with the doctor. More enlightened, perhaps… but at the same time I didn't know how things were going to turn out. I'd have to wait and talk to Erik… whenever he decided to reveal himself.

I looked out of my window again, beyond the pale curtains and into the darkness that seemed to stretch on to forever.

"Erik…where are you?" I whispered out to it, as if perhaps the night could give me an answer. And for a horrible, chilling second, as a draught blew inside and sent an icy shiver up my spine, I thought it had.

Author's Note: I seem to have substituted Erik's presence for information about Erik's past. Interesting though it is, I wish I hadmore opportunity to write Erik, since I love writing him. But I don't want to put him into a chapterwhen he's better off left out, for now at least. A bit likein the Leroux version... I think a lot of it is just waiting forhim to appear.It makes us appreciate him more when we do see him. So, hopefully, Erik will be making a reappearance soon... but it will be as best suits the story.