I love you. Once again Erik heard Christine sincerely speak these words, and once again they were not meant for him. He had stolen away yet again, intruding on a lovers' confession that he was never meant to hear. This time he hid not behind a statue on a rooftop, but behind solid wood; though he had been certain that neither could obscure the sound of his breaking heart. The murderous raged that had once filled him was this time replaced with resigned acceptance. He stepped back from the door, unable to listen any longer. The dead silence that hung about the manor only seemed to amplify his loneliness. He wandered slowly down the hall to the library and picked up the decanter he had taken from Raoul. Could he really find solace at the bottom of a bottle? As he took a drink, he reflected on the conversation he had shared with Christine in what seemed like a lifetime ago.

The smile that had crept upon his lips faded the instant he saw her there on the bed, looking frail and on the verge of death. He rushed to her side and took her hand. "Mon ange!" he exclaimed.

Her eyes filled with tears as she turned to look at him. "He hates me, doesn't he?"

"What are you talking about, Christine?"

"Raoul. He hates me for what I've done," her cold hand was shaking.

"What could you have done to merit his hate?" Erik asked tenderly.

"I lost our baby. I am responsible," her voice was breaking with emotion.

"You are not responsible for this. That vile woman is the one to blame." Hatred and fury flashed in his eyes, but quickly faded to unwilling compassion as he looked down on Christine, " And…no. He does not hate you."

She looked at Erik hopefully. "You are sure?"

Erik slowly released her hand. "Would you rather he take my place?"

She shook her head quickly. "No, I can't see him. Not yet. Besides, I had hoped to speak with you first."

"And what is it that you wish to discuss?" he asked coolly.

"I think it time that you and I have an honest discussion…about us, our relationship," her voice was steady, but Erik felt the uncertainty.

"You are right, my dear. I think it is an appropriate time to uncover the secrets of our hearts, bring light to the darkest corners of our minds."

She stirred uncomfortably, unsure of what he expected her to say. "My feelings for you have been conflicting, complicated to say the very least. I hardly know where to begin," she said wearily. "I was a naïve girl when you first came to me. I truly believed that you were an angel sent by my father."

Erik hung his head in shame. He understood now how his deception had harmed her. She gave his hand a slight squeeze as she continued.

"And I loved you. I think when you revealed yourself to me that I understood who you truly were, though I clung to the illusion that I had come to depend on. When Raoul promised to love me and protect me, I no longer needed that illusion. I abandoned you and I'm sorry. But your anger…the murders…I was terrified."

"I would never intentionally harm you, Christine," he said, his eyes pleading her forgiveness.

"I know that now," she said reassuringly. "After I left…with Raoul…I thought you were gone from my life. But you stayed with me in my thoughts. I felt such guilt over what you had to endure. And though it may do nothing to ease your pain, I think some part of me has always loved you."

"I am glad that we understand better our past. But what of our present…and our future?" he asked with anticipation.

"I love him, Erik," she said simply. "I don't know that I would survive without him."

Erik's fist clenched, his knuckles turning white. For a brief moment he imagined disposing of the Vicomte, that which stood between himself and happiness. The thought left his mind quickly as he regained control of his emotions. Though they had reached a certain understanding, he could feel nothing more for the man. He could never make another attempt on his life, if only for Christine. Erik finally nodded, signaling his acceptance. He lifted her hand and placed a light kiss on her knuckles. He wished to hurry from the room before she could see the tears springing to his eyes, but she called him back to her bedside.

She placed her hands on either side of his face and tilted his head down slightly. She slowly lowered her lips to his forehead. Erik felt the warmth of her kiss spread across his face, down his spine, until it filled every part of him.

"I wish you would stay here with us."

"As my angel wishes," he answered in a composed voice.

Erik placed the bottle back on the shelf, barely a full drink taken from it. He stepped out into the hall hesitantly. He had never been an invited guest in any home, least of all the home of an aristocrat. The pain in his stomach reminded him how much time had passed since he last ate, but he was unsure where he should inquire about finding some food. His feet took him in the direction of the servants' quarters, but he turned on his heel to walk once more past the room where Christine lay. He was astonished to see a shadowy form huddled beside the door, glancing around nervously before placing an eager ear back to the wood. How dare that woman return! With an anger he thought banished from him, he hurried forward, throwing the offender inside the room.