A/N- Reviews! I love you all. I send you all cyber cupcakes. Or cyber muffins, whichever you prefer. I hope my little story turns out to be slightly good, since this is my first try. Tell me your opinions! And just as a side note, I've mixed in a bit of ALW…Michael Crawford, mostly. Love his voice.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything! Nothing! Sheesh.

Ch 2: Don't Go

Christine tossed and turned in bed, her thoughts churning. Despite her physical exhaustion, her mind was working overtime, whispering doubts into conscience. It was still night, almost early morning.

…What if he had died already?

No! She wouldn't think like that. Erik was alive! And Christine was going to keep her promise. She was going back tomorrow.

You're scared. What if Raoul won't take you back? What will you do?

She wasn't scared. There wasn't anything to be afraid of…She surely wasn't afraid of Erik, not anymore. And Raoul…Stop! Christine wasn't fit for this; she hadn't deserved either man's love. Why her?

Why you?

The why's echoed in her head, giving her a dreadful headache. Unable to lie down any longer, she abruptly sat up on the side of her bed, and started dressing into a plain gown, and black traveling cloak. Christine was leaving. Now. In her anguished state, she forgot all her carefully made plans, and threw a few essentials into a small case.

The girl quietly opened the door of her room, and walked silently over to the front door. The maid wouldn't know she was gone until morning. And by that time, she would be…well, somewhere. She could make her own decisions now. Christine was no longer the lost child, yearning for help. As she calmly hailed a carriage, she retreated inside herself, to find something to cling to.

The fairy tales were flawed. The stories that Christine had delighted in, the wonderful little stories that her father had told her, they were wrong. In all of them, the fair maiden awaited her knight in shining armor to come save her from her terrible captor. None of them had predicted that the maiden would leave her fair knight to comfort the monster. In none of them did her captor have the voice of an angel, and such a large capacity to love.

If anyone had told Christine, back then, that she would be responsible for one life, perhaps two, she would have laughed. If only she knew what really happened in those fairy tales…Nobody wins, in the end. That was the only truth.

The brougham stopped with a small jerk in front of the beautiful Opera Garnier, and Christine was jolted out of her thoughts. "Thank you, sir." She paid the small fee, and the driver helped her out.

"Shall I wait for you, mademoiselle?" He looked worried, most likely since the early morning wasn't the best time to walk around Paris.

"No, I will be fine." With that, she turned around and bravely began to walk towards the gate that led to the underground passages, fingering the small key that she still had in her possession. The invitation was in her small bag- almost forgotten, since there might not even be a wedding.

Christine walked slowly down the black passageways, a bit fearfully, finally reaching the silent lake. She squinted, trying to see through the thick mist that surrounded the lake. Shivering, she pulled her cloak closer, and then walked closer to the bank.

"Mademoiselle Daaé?"

A dark shape loomed up, and Christine shrank back, wary. "Yes, monsieur?"

"Do not fear, Miss Daaé. I am Nadir. Erik sent me." The Persian took a step closer, holding his hand out to Christine.

She took it. "Is he…" She wasn't able to say the word. Dead. Such a final word, really.

"Erik is still alive. Although, you do know his health is failing. His heart, it seems. He didn't think you would come. He said he thought your young man was sensible, and wouldn't permit you to return."

Hearing the slightly accented words coming from Nadir was different than repeating them over and over again in her head…He didn't think you would come…His health is failing…

"Raoul didn't want me to come. I…I couldn't break my promise to Erik." Christine's voice quivered slightly.

"I see." The Persian's glance was impenetrable. "Come, here is the boat."

They stepped in, and Nadir took up the oars. They sailed across the lake in utter silence, both in deep thought. Finally, they reached the opposite shore. The daroga helped her out, and Christine tentatively walked into the silent house.

"He is over here, Miss Daaé."

She followed Nadir into Erik's room; the same room in which Christine had torn away her Angel's disguise, where she had finally learned the truth. The same room in which she had brought her dismal attempts at making tea from the samovar to him…The hanging black tapestries, the magnificent organ…and the coffin.

She peered over the edge as Nadir hung back, and gasped.

"Monsieur! Why is Erik in here? He should be on a bed. We must move him at once!" My god, but even she knew not to put a sick man in a propped up coffin!

"He insisted, Christine. He would not allow me to move him onto a bed." He looked shame-faced. "I couldn't deny him his own will."

A small noise came from the coffin. Immediately Christine turned her attention back to her fallen angel. "Erik?"

"I'm sorry, Mama…I don't need two kisses…not even one, I promise! Don't leave me in the dark…" The previously motionless man began to toss and turn in the confined space, reaching out to something neither Nadir nor Christine could see.

"I'm here, Erik…hush now. I'm here…" Christine anxiously smoothed his hair back, stopping as her fingers touched the cold porcelain of his mask. She began to pry it off, but a hand stopped her.

"Mademoiselle. Erik knew that it wouldn't be too long before… I wouldn't touch the mask. He wished for me not to take it off."

"Nadir! This man is sick, and I am quite aware that he has no great wish for self-preservation! I don't care whether Erik is the greatest magician in the world, he needs help. And that is exactly what I intend to do. Now, help me move him into my…well, the room I stayed in."

The Persian looked at Christine with admiration; he would never guess she was trembling inside. She resolutely took off the mask, with just a small intake of breath as she gazed upon his horrendous features once more. His malformed lips were moving quickly as he muttered under his breath in delirium. Christine's small fingers moved across the flaky skin of his cheek, pressing them softly against his forehead.

A deathly grip seized her hand, the long fingers curling over her wrist, cold even with his high fever. Erik cried out, as though something was hurting him. His chest moved up and down irregularly, and he tightened his grip on her wrist as Nadir lifted his light weight out of the coffin. Although the Opera Ghost was a much taller man, Nadir lifted him with ease.

"He is too thin…He weighs almost nothing." The daroga looked extremely concerned, and kept glancing over at Christine to gauge her reaction. She was staring determinedly at Erik's face, her breath coming a little quicker as the Phantom's hold on her fingers grew tighter.

They reached the soft bed in Christine's room, and Nadir gently laid him down. At her orders, he went to go fetch a cool cloth.

"It's not my birthday…and I haven't been good..."

Christine felt a tremor run through her heart at his childish tone. There was a child buried underneath the dark secrets, his own self-loathing…a lost child.

"I have you, Erik. I won't let go. I promise." She bent down and gently kissed him on the cheek, and a soft sigh came from him. His chest slowed down slightly, and she brushed the sweat-soaked hair out of his closed eyes. Christine began to hum softly, ignoring the pain in her wrist. His grip loosened as he relaxed, and the pain ebbed.

"I have the cloth." Nadir appeared in the doorway, holding a wet cloth. Christine took it and began to tenderly wipe the distorted skin of Erik's face, being careful not to rub too hard.

There was an abrupt change in his breathing as the Phantom came back to himself, and his free hand flew up to his uncovered face. His deep-set eyes flew open, and found Christine staring back at him.

"Ever the little nurse, aren't you, my dear?" A dry chuckle rasped out of his throat, with none of the melodious tone she was used to. It was quickly followed by a hacking cough, and Christine looked helplessly on as he pushed her supporting hands away with surprising strength.

"Where is my mask, Daroga?" Erik struggled to sit up, and then continued with ice in his voice, "I believe I told you to leave me where I was. Am I not allowed to die in peace?"

Christine started at his tone, staring wordlessly down at the stubborn man. "You can't die. I won't let you die!" Her voice grew louder, tinged with hysteria. "I won't! I won't leave, I told you!" Her voice shrank to a whisper. "I promised."

She bent over him, weeping, as her strong front melted away. Erik reached an arm out, and traced the outline of her jaw with a long finger. "I won't see you throw your life away, Christine. Not for me. You will forget. I am a dying man, and there is nothing here for you."

"I can't. I can't forget. How in the world can I forget you? What will I do?" Christine threw her arms around him, and rested her head on his chest as he gently stroked her curls. He closed his eyes in pain as her tears soaked into his white shirt. It was an effort for him to sit up- it felt as if a large block was sitting on his upper body, crushing his heart.

"You love your young man, don't you? He will make you happy, as I can't." Erik said this with an effort; he would love nothing more if she would stay with him. But he couldn't tie her down, he was useless. Damn his contradictory health!

"Yes…" muttered Christine as she sat up, dashing her tears away with her hand, "But I need you! There won't be anything else to remind me…Say it, Erik! Say I must stay. I know it; you don't want me to leave, do you?"

He sighed deeply. "Christine, my dear child…"

"Say it, Erik! Don't you love me?"

That was a bit of an understatement. He began to laugh hoarsely, as Christine stared up at him in amazement. "How can you laugh? Answer my question!"

She was making this too hard for him…in a second he wouldn't have any self-control left, and then the stubborn girl wouldn't be allowed to leave until he was gone.

"That is enough, Christine. Don't presume to know my thoughts. I daresay you would be quite frightened. Nadir, please come here."

Christine was silenced by his commanding voice, staring as if in a dream as Nadir stepped back into the room. "Fetch me my medicine, will you? It is in the second drawer, on the desk. Thank you, my dear daroga. It seems your crude Persian poisons have finally caught up with me."

Nadir shook his head in disbelief. That morbid sense of humor was still there, even through the intense pain the daroga knew Erik must be going through. He went over to the mahogany desk, and drew out the small packet of morphine. Christine jumped up from the bed, ignoring Erik's hiss of anger.

"Oh, no. I will not allow you to give that…that poison…to him." Nadir stopped in his tracks, astonishment written all over his face. He looked over at the infamous opera ghost, who had almost the same expression on that Nadir did. The only difference was that Erik was starting to get impatient with his little nurse.

"Christine. Stop being stubborn, and let me have that packet." He managed to get to his feet, his still imposing figure towering above her.

Christine wouldn't back down. Her usually sweet nature was replaced with an anger Erik had seen only once. "No. I cannot stand here and let you ruin your already extremely unstable health. Now stop being childish, and get back on that bed."

Nadir looked back and forth between them, before letting out a hearty chuckle at the situation.

Erik glared icily at him. "What, you useless Persian, is so damn funny? I'm sure you think my weakness is absolutely hilarious, do you not?"

Weak as Erik was, Nadir was suddenly reminded of the menacing power he had once held over the Persian court, and the sheer malevolence of a raging demon he had when provoked. The daroga gulped, afraid for both his and Christine's health.

"Erik, calm down…" Nadir wanted to tell the girl to be careful…he wasn't sure that she knew what a risk she was taking. Thank Allah Erik didn't have all of his inhuman strength at the moment- otherwise he wasn't sure what exactly would have happened to them.

Christine seized the packet from Nadir in his indecision, and flung it away, defiantly meeting the murderous gaze of her angel.

"Angel…I just want to help you. Please don't send me away…" At her whispered plea, all the anger left the monster, and he sank back down onto the bed.

"This was my mother's bed, you know," he said distantly, looking blankly ahead. "It seems fitting that this is where I shall die. She would be happy, I'm sure. I was never able to tell her I was sorry…sorry for making her life hell…like my own life."

"Oh, Erik!" Christine flung herself on the bed beside him with a cry, and Nadir hastily retreated from the room. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"I love you, Christine…forgive me, please." He looked at the despairing angel at his side, and closed his eyes again as he felt her small hand tracing the blue veins visible under his hideous face.

"What will I do without you, Erik?" He tensed as he felt her sit up, and opened his eyes at the exact moment she bent to kiss his forehead, then his malformedlips.

Too weak to do anything else, his hand went up to touch her soft curls, and he let out a suppressed sob as she lay back down beside him. "Don't go…" he murmured sleepily, before falling into a deep sleep.

Outside the room, Nadir wept for the two lost souls who would lose each other once more.

Yes! Second chapter is finally done. I really love this chapter, I had fun writing it.

- Flashback of Little Lemon weeping while eating crumb cake-

…Anyway. Review please!