Pain. Terrible ripping pain that spread from his heart and into his gut. Cold and steady, burning and flickering. So this was what it was like to loose the one person you loved to another man. Erik found the emotion beyond unpleasant. Not that he had expected it to be when he made the decision to release Christine to Raoul's care. The Viscount was no doubt a wealthy enough man that could provide only the best of care for Christine, but the Phantom man found himself worrying over the emotional care that the man could bestow upon Christine. Would he love her enough? Would he show her the tenderness she longed for? Would he give her music, allow her to thrive upon the one thing she loved?

Erik pulled his hood over his face even farther than it had been, to be sure that the milk-white mask was not visible to a nearing citizen. It was cold out, the breeze nipping at his nose, the damp fog of the night dimming and hazing the lit lanterns lighting the street. He knew he should not be out here, in the open, among others. But he could care less about what happened to him. All that e cared about was Christine and her comfort….

Turning blindly down an alley way, he made his way into the darker, quieter part of town. Towards the end of the alley, even in his ruined state, the Phantom's senses jerked in response to a barley heard cry. It was distressed, scared, and small. Without thought to common sense, Erik stealthily made his way to the origin of the sound. To his far left, he found the source. The form of two burly men we leaning over something, laughing.

"Given up little one?" one taunted in a gruff voice. "What have 'ya got for me, eh, yongin'?"

The second man laughed harshly. Erik's body tensed. They were beating up on some one much smaller then themselves, which anger him all in itself, but then they were heinous enough to go further in their torturing.

"How's "bout you show us what you can do, eh, li'l girl, eh? How's bout you give me a li'l kiss here andshow me what a good girl you are."

The words struck Erik to the quick. If he didn't intervene now, the girl would surly meet a horrible fate. A small cry was emitted from the young girl hidden from his sight as he saw the spoken man lean lower. Erik flew into action.

Drawing out his Punjab lasso that he had taken down from the gate that he had almost hung Raoul upon, he flew it high over his head and around the attacking man's neck. Jerking the rope with all his strength, he pulled the man to his back. The second man cried out in pain as Erik took his advantage of surprise and back handed the man, knocking him into the stone wall. A sickening crack told Erik that the blow had caused the man's head to hit the bricks with quite an amount of force. One hand still gripping the rope that held the first man fast, Erik proceeded to tighten the noose, listening almost in pleasure to the strangling sounds coming from the man. Soon, the sounds stopped, and he was silent.

Erik stood, breathing heavily, He was actually in very good shape, but it surprised him how much emotional pain could take out of you physically. He looked around himself. Searching the dark around him in hopes of finding the little girl he had rescued. He took a step to his right to look deeper into the darkness, and heard the rustle of clothing in response to his movement. He looked down, his sharp eyes making out the form of a frail girl before him, in rags. He knelt before the girl, who hid her face in her knees, pulling herself into the tightest ball she could. Erik's eyebrows pinched together in sympathy, all of his own suffering momentarily abandoned from his mind.

"Ma Chere," he spoke the French title from "little one", "I mean you no harm. Please. I want to help you." He reached out o lift her chin with his hand, but the sound of movement from the large man before her sent he arm flying up to protect her face, her breaths ragged with fear. The Phantom let his arm drop, sighing. "Please mademoiselle, look at me. Look into my eyes. I won't hurt you."

The little girl did not move for a moment but to allow her arm to relax, but then she did look up, her dark brown eyes reflecting his mask in the moonlight. He in took a sharp breath. He had not realized hat his hood had dropped form his head during the fight. He made to replace it but then stopped himself, afraid any other movement would frighten the poor girl. Besides that point, she had already seen it, and looked rather fascinated by it. Was not the point of his mask to guard what lay beneath? He looked into her eyes with his crystal blue ones, not moving, simply staring into the little girl's doe eyes.

"You see? I won't hurt you."

The little girl nodded , and to the Phantom's surprise, he head lolled back, he head making a dull thud against the wall she sat against. Erik squinted at her, attempting to figure out the girl's motive. Her eyes were closed, her mouth having fallen slightly open, her breath still torn, and uneven but not quick. Assured that she had either fallen asleep or fainted, Erik slipped his arms around the doll like body, surprised and concerned at how thin around she was, at her barley measurable weight. Christine had weighed so much more than that, and she herself had been light….

Pain seared once again through Erik's heart like a stab trough the main organ with a red hot spear. He was blinded for a moment with memory…..

Christine's face poured with tears, the sorrow in her eyes painful to Erik, but e would not give in. He would have her for his bride.

Angel of music,

you deceived me

I gave you my mind blindly.

Erik jerked the Punjab lasso, hearing Raoul choke at the motion.

"You try my patience. Make your choice!" his voice was harsh and ruff, hurt and desperate.

Erik was shaken back to the present when the child in his arms shifted slightly, then moaned in discomfort in her sleep. Again, worry for the little one took over and he rushed away with her.

It had pained him to return to his destroyed home beneath the Paris opera house, but where else was he to go with a child in need of food and shelter, and possibly medical care?

He had snuck back in from the south entrance that he had rarely ever used for lack of need, entering through a trap door, then carrying the little one through the labyrinth of corridors, along side the canals of water that ran through the lower parts, flooded years before Erik had come to live there.

Nearing his lair, he listened carefully for any noise that would betray the mob that they were still ran-sacking his home that he had worked so hard to create. Everything he seemed to care about was bang torn down around him all for the love of one woman who had refused to love him back. Shaking his head and refusing to allow memory at this point, he strained his ears. Not a sound came from his lair. Assured of its safety, he found the hidden gondola and lay the girl within I gently, afraid to wake her, and stepped in himself, picking up the long log he had carved into a creation used to push the gondola through the water easily, and began to glide the boat towards his trashed lair. The grate had remained open, and he pushed through effortlessly, then shored the gondola and carried the girl, making his way through the dark into the room where the swan bed was settled, and laid her just as gently into the bed as he had done with Christine once.

"Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dream

purge all thoughts of the life you knew before.

Let you soul take you where you long to be

only then can you belong to me…"

But Christine would never belong to him, and that he had to accept. He shoved the thoughts away as he searched for a match.

He lit a few candles near the bed so that he could see if the girl really was wounded. He lit the last candle aflame, then turned to inspect the girl. A deep anger surged through him harder and colder, towards the men he had saved her from. There was a long gash along the girl's cheek, her dress slit open, clearly with a knife half way down the front, a skimming scratch following the cut line of material, her arm bruised painfully in the markings of a large male hand. A deep sorrow for this girl iced its way to his gut as he reached out and gently turned her head so that the let side of her face was visible. As he had expected, there was a dribble of blood coming from the corner of her mouth, and her eye was already turning purple. His eyes drifted dreadingly down her body, the poor thing's rag dress revealing skinny legs that sported many lacerations and scars.

No, he resolved. He could not allow himself to die just now. Not when he had this girl to care for, when she needed him so desperately. Maybe later, after he had cared for and allowed the girl t leave, maybe then he could give himself over to the darkness, but for now, he would force himself to live.