Finally deciding that I should return, I walk back into the room to find Erik wide-awake. He watches as I enter with a quick emotion that flashes over his face, quickly hidden by neutrality. If I didn't know better I would say the emotion had been relief.

I move to his side, "Why didn't you call out? I would have come."

He blushes slightly, turning away, "I thought you had both left."

I shake my head, "Only Madame Giry, she had to go, she needed to talk to Meg, and she has an important role in this Opera House."

"So do you," he comments.

"Well," I laugh lightly and grin, "I'm on vacation, for all they know."

He laughs lightly and the sound is like an angel's voice, perfect, "This is true."

"I sent a note to my brother, telling him that I needed a break to "recover from my injuries". He will never know the difference, he doesn't really care," the last part sounds a little sad, so I turn and smile, "It won't matter if I'm missing for a couple of days."

"It's been ten," he points out.

"So?" I shrug, "I like it here… it's more peaceful than my house. Besides, you need someone here with you."

Erik glares at me, "No, I don't."

"Yes you do, admit it," I shrug, "besides, if you didn't want me here than you wouldn't have stopped me."

He looks down, then back at me, "Did you mean what you said?"

He doesn't need to tell me about what, I know, "Yes."

Turning from me, he looks into the distance, "You have to be blind then, viscount."

I look at him in shock, "What? Why?"

"Because," he looks at me, and the look in his eyes breaks my heart, "no one can care for a creature so dark and cold as me."

"Hi, my name is no one, glad to meet you," I laugh.

He doesn't, "Stop that."

"I'm sorry," my smile disappears, "I just can't stand seeing you so upset. Is it really that hard to believe that someone could care about you?"

He's in tears when he turns to answer, "After being despised by your own mother, tortured by gypsies, shunned by society, and by your one true love, you would think that someone caring about you was impossible. So yes, it is really that hard to believe."

I look at him sadly, "Erik…"

"Don't look at me that way," he growls.

I look down and then back at him, and kiss him lightly on the forehead, barely a brush of lips, "Well, know that someone does care, whether you want him to or not."

His head drops and sound that resembles a sob escapes him before he turns back to me in neutrality, "I'll keep that in mind."

I smile and ask, "Do you need anything?"

"Not from you," he comments, trying to push himself out of bed, only to cause himself more pain. His jaw clenches as he holds back a cry.

"What do you need?" I rush.

"To… get up," he hints.

I turn away in embarrassment and understanding, and reach for a chamber pot, having brought one in after the one little accident.

I sit him up and then move to leave, before I hear him softly admit, "I can't stand…"

I turn back to him and hold him up, looking away as he relieves himself and only turning when he tells me I can.

I lay him back down and he asks, "Why was that in here?"

I blush, knowing that I would have had to tell him this eventually, "You had an accident not long after you went into that comma. We had to be able to get you to one quick, so we brought it in here."

He blushes as well and turns away in embarrassment.

An uncomfortable silence falls on us and I find myself having to ask, "What's that garden?"

He looks at me in surprise, "How do you know about that?"

"I saw the paintings," I admit.

"Oh," he looks down at his bandaged wrists, "I don't like to talk about that."

"Please?" I beg.

"If I never told Madame Giry, why should I tell you," his tone is cold, sending shivers through me.

I look down like a beaten child, "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

He nods, "I'm sorry too, I shouldn't have been so cold. You're right, you didn't know. Now you do though."

I nod and smile weakly.

ERIK POV

So this man, this boy is the one who took care of me?

He is sort of handsome.

What am I saying? I am not attracted to this man.

But he might be attracted to me.

Never, that's impossible.

But he practically admits it.

I catch myself staring at him and quickly turn away. Why would it matter? Even if I liked him he would never accept that he loves me.

Making sure he doesn't see me, I lift one hand to my forehead, the skin burning where his lips pressed not too long ago. Finding the position painful I quickly bring my hand back down. Holding onto the pined wrist, I find holding it worse. Hissing, I watch as he turns to me, and I keep my eyes on my wrist, trying not to start staring again.

He reaches to take my hand I a flinch a little at his touch.

He looks me in the eyes. My God his eyes are beautiful.

His voice reaches my ears and shakes me from my thoughts, "I won't hurt you."

"I-I know," I barely find my voice.

Taking my hand, he gently pulls it toward him and turns it over. I see that there's blood seeping through the bandages.

He turns and grabs some fresh bandages, shedding the ones I have on now and quickly pressing down on the wound. I howl in pain and he hushes me. I hold back tears threatening the corner of my eyes. Biting on my lip, I try to get my thoughts more toward the pain there then in my wrists. It works slightly, just enough for him to finish and replace the old bandages with new ones. Drawing back, his hands are covered in blood, my blood.

I don't like seeing him like this, with blood coating his hands, especially it being my blood. He didn't do this to me. I see that now.

"I'll be right back," he stands, not touching anything, and I watch as he leaves.

Seconds later he returns, the blood having been washed off.

Another uncomfortable silence settles.

Raoul breaks it, "Why'd you do it?"

I'm thrown by the question, but then I contemplate it. I don't even know if I have a good answer.

"I guess," I start, "I thought that you had stolen the love of my Christine from me, and I had convinced myself of that. I sat there for three days, thinning my blood with alcohol, and the further into the blur of wine I went the harder that thought pounded on me. The fourth day with no sleep and only alcohol as nourishment I was sent over the edge when I thought I heard her coming. I couldn't live with it, so I tried to kill myself before she got to me. But it wasn't her, it was you and Madame Giry. All I remember before blacking out was that you were the first to my side. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he whispers.

I nod, and he starts, "And now, I have a question for you."

"Alright, fair is fair," I point out.

"You were staring at me earlier, why?" I look at him incredulously.

"I guess I was just wondering why you would care enough to save a monster," I lie.

He shakes his head, "You aren't a monster."

"How could you say that?" I growl.

"Because," he smiles his brilliant smile, "monsters are ugly and shameful creatures. You're not like that, you're too artistic, too handsome."

I frown, "Is this just a joke to you?" Tearing off my mask, painfully, I point to my deformed face, "How can you say that this, this, disgustingly twisted face, this deformed face, is handsome? Are you blind or just cruel?"

His face stays calm as he takes my mask and sets it on the bed. He moves so that he's sitting on the bed, and then moves my hand down. Moving his own hand to my face, he gently runs his fingers down my deformity. The touch is a caress, and though I flinch away at first, I eventually lean into his caress.

"I see no deformed face, only a handsome man, with a beautiful face," he gently whispers.

I look at him in shock and then he whispers, "Erik, may I, please, if its not too much, may I… kiss you?"

Though the question shocks me, and everything within me screams to protest against this, I don't move. Seeing his chance, he slowly closes the distance between our lips. And as his lips cover mine, I know that there is now a place in this world for me.

a/n: all feedback appreciated