A/N: I AM SO SORRY! I have nearly given up on this which is why this took so long! I had no time to go through what i had typed so sorry for any really bad errors! This is chapters 8, 9, 10, and 11! please enjoy! again, so so sorry!

When I walk back in, Madame Giry has sat down next to Erik, tending to one of his wrists, as Erik sits solemnly, eyes on the doorway, waiting for me. Now I see why I was attracted to this man, he's loyal, something that Christine can not say about herself. Loyalty is important in a relationship. I had been loyal to her, but she would run to me when it fit her needs, and then run to him when it fit as well.

Slowly I walk back to the bed, and I see that he has left room for me to sit. What an angel…

He doesn't press for me to say anything when I sit, he doesn't want to know, he doesn't want to hurt. Again, a reason that I learned to love him. I guess that I've always been drawn to him, his voice, but when she left, that's when I realized that I had fallen for him, that's when I knew I was in love.

As I sit, he takes my hand and holds it lightly. I smile weakly at him and he squeezes my hand in support. I don't want to break eye contact, but I do as tears threaten to fall. I look straight ahead, and try not to blink, yet a tear betrays me, running slowly down my cheek. I feel a limp hand lightly brush it away and I look down to see Erik, there for me, wanting to help me. He wants to help me now. He wants to help me now.

I weakly smile down at him and he smiles, just a weak, back.

Madame Giry stands and leaves the room in silence, carrying a bucket of bloody water with her. I watch her leave with a numbing sensation spreading through me. I don't like it.

I want to yell, to scream, to cry, but I can't bring myself to that level. Erik takes my one hand in both of his own and lightly squeezes it. I finally choose crying as the least destructive thing to do, and let the tears pour out of me. Erik quickly, and painfully, struggles into a sitting position, holding me close. I allow him to embrace me, but I don't lean in, in fear of furthering his injuries. I carefully wrap an arm around his back and hold him tight.

His voice comes as a pleasant surprise, "Hush, Raoul, hush. It's alright. We know that her leaving us is for the better."

I pull back enough to look into his face, "You think that's why I'm crying?"

He shrugs, "I don't know."

I laugh lightly, "I wouldn't cry about that. I know what you say is true. I'm upset that she wouldn't even allow us to be friends, to see each other one more time. We've been friends since childhood. That's what hurts, not the breaking of the marriage, but the breaking of a different bond."

He nods and I laugh, "Then again, why should it make any difference? The bitch tore out both our hearts already."

"Raoul," Erik scolds me, harshly.

I lower my head, "I'm sorry… I just can't stand her winning like this."

He nods, "I know, I know, but you have to calm down. Everything is done with now, and there's no going back. You have to move on."

"You didn't," I point out.

He lowers his head and I know that I have gone too far.

When he answers, his voice is distant, "It's something that I regret."

I pull him closer to me, resting his head on my chest, "Shh, don't think about that. I'm sorry I brought it up."

The way his breath comes out slowly, I can't tell if he's content or annoyed. I hope it's the former. I look down and see his eyes have closed and a smile is tugging at the sides of his lips. I feel my own trying to sneak across my face, though I don't allow it to.

I lightly run a hand down the upper half of his left arm and I watch the smile spread. I can't help but smile along with him. Then he opens his eyes and the smile is gone.

"You shouldn't be sorry," he looks up at me, "you have nothing to be sorry about."

I shake my head, "Yes, I do. I hurt you."

"No," he forces extra emphasis on the word, "You have done nothing. It was her. But, she's gone now, we'll never have to see her again. We can stay together, forever."

I look down at him and his face shows nothing to me, no emotion, not reflecting a word of what he has said, but his eyes betray him. I look deep into his eyes, and there is a longing buried there. A longing for love. A longing for me.

I smile and lightly cup his left cheek, his right cheek once again covered by the mask, and he leans into it, not needing words.

A knock at the doorway alerts us once more to Madame Giry's presence.

I let my hand fall, and I feel Erik shift slightly, so he's pressed more against my stomach. My arm circles his waist and he smiles. So does she.

I look over at her and she quickly controls her smile, though it still plays at her lips, "Monsieur, your brother has also sent word. He stated that he would be arriving tomorrow, early morning, with the hopes of finding out why you are here."

Erik almost cowers in my arms, and I pull him tighter to me and whisper, "I could never tell him about you, he'd hurt you, but what else can I say?"

He looks up at me, helplessly, and Madame Giry cuts in, "Why can't you tell him?"

"He'd kill Erik!" I yell and Erik buries himself further in my embrace.

"What?" she smirks, "For helping me with a friend?"

I look up at her, "Helping a friend, Madame?"

"What did you tell your brother about the cuts on your arm?" she questions.

I look up at her, then back at Erik, "That I was in the mob, trying to save Christine, and that the mob got out of hand."

"Well, what harm could you be doing in helping another man that you met in the mob that you also saved from their madness, even if he was not so lucky?" she asks slyly.

I shake my head, "Madame, he knows of the Opera Ghost, he knows of the house by the lake, and he knows of the Opera Ghost's mask. He would recognize Erik, Madame. Being the Comte de Chagny gives him wonderful perks, according to him, including sources in the middle of all different areas. He knows everything that happens here."

She sighs, "Then he would know about this."

"Let me rephrase," I think for a moment, trying to grasp the proper wording, "He knows everything that happens on the main level of the Opera Populaire, nothing below."

She rolls her eyes, "And who would be the source that tells him all of this."

I heave a sigh, but luckily Erik cuts in, "Madame, the Comte de Chagny has been in the middle of quite the affair with la Sorelli for some time now."

She looks mildly surprised, but at the same time like she knew this all along, "Well, then she would know of what happened during Don Juan Triumphant, and would eagerly tell him."

"I would think so, yes," I agree.

She pauses a moment then turns to leave, "This is between you and Erik now. Just remember that you're to meet him in front of the managers' office at nine-tomorrow morning. Good day."

As her footsteps disappear into the distance, I tighten my grip on Erik, "I wouldn't give you away like that."

He nods, "I know."

I sigh, "But what can I do?"

He takes my hand gently, and I don't protest. I start to relax as his fingers caress my stressed out limb. My entire body is stressed, but this will have to do.

"Please," I look down at him, "I don't want to tell him about you, I don't want him to hurt you."

He looks up from my hand and into my eyes, "Do you really think he would harm me?"

I shake my head, "I don't know."

He nods, his face falling back to look at my hand, still being caressed. I think about what he said. Would my brother hurt him? He has never been one for abandoning sanity, and me falling in love with another man is truly insane, but still, would he actually hurt Erik? When I found out about la Sorelli, I kept his secret. Would he be willing to keep mine?

Yes. My brother may be strict, but he has a heart. Besides, I don't have to tell him that we're in love, just that I'm helping an injured friend.

I look down at Erik, "No."

He stops caressing my hand, "No what?"

"No," I repeat, "he wouldn't hurt you."

He smiles weakly at me, then scoots more toward the side of the bed.

"Lay down," he commands, and I listen.

Laying so that my back is pressed against the bed, I feel a sudden and pleasant weight on my chest. I look down to see Erik, his upper body leaning against me, his head lying on my chest.

"Rest," he whispers, almost on a breath, and slowly my eyes close, surrendering myself to sleep.

CHAPTER 9 STARTS HERE

What feels like only minutes later, I feel something shaking my shoulder. Reluctantly opening my eyes, I see Erik's face, a pleasant surprise, and his hand is on my shoulder, shaking me awake. I quickly and gently reach up, taking his hand in my own, and a smile spreads across his face.

"Don't hurt yourself," I scold, lightly.

"I'm fine," he kisses my cheek and a smile creeps along my face as well.

I look around, "What time is it?"

He points to a small clock at the back of the room: 8 in the morning.

I nod and force myself into a sitting position, and then I look back to him, "I won't do anything you don't want me to do."

He nods, "I trust your decision."

I shake my head, "I don't."

He lightly brushes his lips over my knuckles, and whispers, "There is a bathroom right next door, though I'm sure you know that already. You didn't really bring many clothes, I can tell, but one of my old suits may fit you, my old wardrobe is right there." He points to the far corner and I barely notice the dark wood against the shadows.

I nod and get up, going to look for a suit worthy of being a Vicomte's. That's no problem though. All the suits are fine tailored, and hand crafted. They also, unfortunately, are the Phantom's, leaving little but black to choose from. I rarely wear black, and my brother knows that. I finally find a midnight colored suit at the far end and pull it out, holding it in front of me. It should fit well enough.

He smiles at the choice as I walk from the room.

ERIK POV

An old suit, but one of my favorites. The Vicomte has fine taste, either that, or he hates black. Probably both.

I wait patiently until he returns to the room. Even without the suit being made for him, he still looks stunning in it. I've rarely seen him in such a dark color, and I must admit that he is beautiful. The way the darkness contrasts his skin makes him glow and the color does nothing less of complimenting his eyes.

I stare at him and feel my body go limp. Is this what it is to be in love?

He comes to my side, "What's wrong?"

I shake my head, slowly, "Nothing. You look wonderful."

He beams a smile and I feel my body go weak again, "Thanks."

He takes my hand and kisses it gently. I pull lightly and he kneels over me. I move to kiss him gently on the lips. He smiles and returns the kiss before, reluctantly, pulling back.

"I won't be long," he states.

"Will you bring him here?" I ask.

"Why? Would you want me too?" he takes my hand again.

I shake my head, "No. Even without laying in bed for this many day I look like crap, I must look terrible."

He shakes his head, "You could never look terrible."

I smile, "You're biased."

"Really?" he asks.

"Love can make people blind, I know it," I admit, sadly.

He shakes his head and laughs, "It's nothing but some hair problems with you, and that can be fixed easily."

I look away.

He leaves and quickly returns with a comb. I quickly bring up my hands and shake my head.

He gives me a strange look and I reply, "It's a wig."

He looks at me with little shock, "I thought so, after that night…"

I nod and he pockets the comb. He moves to my side and gently peels the wig off. I look away in shame and I feel his fingers move through the jungle of tangles gently, not pulling anywhere. He moves my chin so that I'm forced to face him, and as his hand stops, his lips cover mine in a caressing gesture.

I close my eyes and smile against his lips before he pulls back and quickly comments, "I won't be long."

I watch as he leaves, sadly.

I hope he's made the right choice.

PHILIPPE POV

My brother comes running, just in time for the meeting. Always arriving at the last minute. I roll my eyes.

He approaches and smiles, "How have you been?"

I smile back, "Busy, but fine, same as always. Judging by the bags under your eyes you might actually for once be doing some real work!"

He frowns and bows his head, "I've been helping a friend."

"With what?" I question.

He motions for me to follow and without a verbal invitation I obey.

We stop outside an old portrait in a deserted hall.

He turns to me and whispers, "Brother, I have kept your secret for a long time without ever thinking twice about keeping it a secret, even from Christine, could you promise me that what you are about to be can be kept a secret between us?"

I look at him incredulously, "Of course, my brother."

He smiles, "Thank you."

To my surprise, with a simple tug the painting flies open to reveal a stone passageway. Crawling through it ahead of my brother, I wait for him to enter. Closing the painting he then motions for me to follow him, and I do.

Walking down the winding corridors, I have to be careful at points that my brother says are dangerous, though I sense no danger, seeing as how the path looks the same the whole way down, I trust Raoul to make the smart decision and follow in his footsteps.

Finally reaching the bottom of the twisting halls, we come to a lake. The lake seems to be impassable, except by boat, and there is a lack of those.

Raoul turns to me, "Again, my brother, do I have your word that everything that happens today shall be kept a secret?"

Again I look to him, quite shocked, and repeat, "Of course, my brother."

He then leads me to the far side of the lake, where a stone path leads to the other side. Reaching the other side, I stare around in awe at the beautiful, I fear to say it, house that we step into.

He leads me up a sloped path and enters through a door. Hesitantly, I follow.

First thing I enter I notice the room is seemingly small, a guess room possibly, with a wardrobe at the far end and maybe some pictures and a few other pieces of furniture, including a swan shaped bed, with another man within.

Raoul motions to me, "Erik this is my brother, Philippe," he motions back to the man, "Philippe, this is Erik."

Hesitantly the one named Erik gives a half bow from his sitting position, and I give a nod in return.

Raoul summons me closer and I slowly approach. Now at Erik's side, I notice a white porcelain mask covering the right side of his face. I stare at it, but then catch myself, and quickly look away. The next things I notice are the bandages on his wrists.

Before I can investigate this man any further my brother starts, "Please, Philippe, why are you here?"

"I wanted to see what you have been up to. Word reached me that the wedding had been called off, and I wanted to make sure you were okay," I add the second part hesitantly.

He nods, "Well, thank you, but I am fine. I've been here helping Erik. He got hurt, as I'm sure you noticed, and Madame Giry can not stay with him, so I have instead."

I smile, fleetingly, and pull my brother by the arm out of the room, quickly adding through gritted teeth, "We'll just be a moment."

I slam him against the wall outside the room, well enough down the hallway not to be heard, "What are you thinking?"

He looks at me confused and I continue, "Taking care of this man! I know who he is! The mask says it all."

He lowers his head, "Please, don't hurt him."

"Him!" I yell, "Not him! I might hurt you though! How could you be so blind? You choose this man over family?"

He nods 'yes', his face turning a ghostly white.

"How?" I control my voice, only to a certain degree though.

He doesn't answer, and something clicks inside.

"You love him, don't you?" my voice is ice.

He doesn't answer me, but his eyes avoid mine.

"Don't you?" I scream.

CHAPTER 10 STARTS HERE

I watch as tears fill his eyes, and I let go of him. He stays leaning against the wall as his choked voice answers, "Yes."

"How could you?" my voice is cold again, but low, almost a whisper.

He turns, curling against the wall in a strange embrace, his face now a pale green, "I don't know."

My face and voice soften as his tears run softly over his cheeks, "Raoul…"

"I'm sorry," he drops to the floor, crying, "I'm so sorry."

I kneel next to him and look at him pitifully, "Please, Raoul, it's okay. I should be the sorry one, I didn't mean to yell."

He shakes his head and looks at me, "Don't be sorry, you have every right to be upset."

I know that he's right, but I have to deny it, he is my brother after all, "Please, Raoul, I over reacted, I didn't mean to and I'm sorry."

He smiles weakly, "Your apology will always be accepted, you know that."

I weakly glance back at the room, "I should get some of your things brought back here."

He grins at me, "You accept this then?"

I shake my head, "No, I don't, but I do accept that trying to persuade you out of anything is impossible."

He hugs me and I lightly embrace him back.

I motion toward the door, "Go on, he needs you more than I do. But before I let you go back there, can I know one thing?"

"What?" he asks.

"What happened to his wrists?" then, seeing his face, I quickly add, "You don't have to answer."

He shakes his head, "Erik would respect the question. He cut his wrists, but that's all I am in the position to say."

I nod and then quickly add, "Is his face like they say it is?"

ERIK POV

They think that I can't hear them, but they're wrong. I can hear every word. Raoul was right, I would respect the question, and that's all he had the right to say.

The last question threw me: is his face like they say it is?

I fear the answer.

Then Raoul's voice reaches me, "He's the most handsome man I know."

I feel tears threaten to fall as he reenters the room, and I watch Philippe pass by the room without another word. He knows better, and I silently thank them both.

Raoul's face is pale, more pale than I have ever noticed mine, but there's a fleeting smile at his lips when he sees me. I softly reach out and touch his hand when he draws close enough. His hand is shaking, but as he sits next to me, the color returns slowly to his cheeks. I move my head to rest in his lap and he smiles down at me.

We stay like this for only minutes when an alarm goes off and Raoul jumps to attention, settling me back into the bed before moving to the main room, sword drawn.

I hear a quick splash before Raoul's light footsteps move toward the shoreline. Who could it be?

RAOUL POV

As I move into the main room, there are footsteps on the stone pathway and for a fleeting moment I hope without hope that it is Madame Giry. As I see who it is, my heart stops.

Philippe. He came back. He came back with a small case of something. The chest he is carrying throws him off balance, and he drops it to the ground in the main room before collapsing into the water. I quickly rush to his side and pull him onto the shore.

"Philippe, what were you thinking?" I scold, lightly.

He smiles, "I had brought some of your clothes, just in case you were here for different reasons, but I guess that you can take them all the same."

I almost laugh, "Philippe, why the sudden change of heart?"

He stands, shakily, and shrugs, "I guess I give up, since I know what it's like to try to change your mind, it just doesn't happen."

I stand, letting him lean on my arm, though he doesn't make it obvious, "Come on, I'll take these back into the room in a second, you just follow let me help you now."

He has started to shake as well, which is what worries me. I support him all the way back to Erik's room to find Erik hiding in the sheets, trying to make himself unnoticeable. I laugh and sit Philippe down in the chair with some towels and then move to Erik's side. He doesn't come out of the covers until I force him to.

Pulling the covers down a little, he glares at me, "Stop."

"What?" I ask innocently.

He gives me a scared glance, something that tears at my heart, "Please."

I nod and leave the covers down, but let him hide between the pillows. I lightly run my fingers through his hair and look up to find Philippe staring at me. I act like I didn't notice and I look back to Erik, continuing the soft caress.

Moving my hand to the left side of his face and lightly stroke his cheek, softly, carefully.

Philippe finally speaks, "I'm sorry."

Again, I look up to him, "You have every right to be upset, but I still don't see the harm in this. What difference does it make when no one else knows about us?"

He shrugs, "It doesn't make any difference I guess. It's just hard to accept. It's not like me and, well you know."

"La Sorelli," Erik comments.

My brother freezes, "You told him?"

Erik lifts himself so he can look Philippe in the eye, "Monsieur, I am the Opera Ghost, I do not need to be told what is going on in the Opera Populaire, I can see it all first hand."

My brother goes bright red.

Erik laughs, "You actually think I stayed for the show?"

I go bright red.

Erik just shakes his head and lays back, wincing as he applies pressure to his right wrist. I quickly help him down and check the wrist for blood. There is none, thank God.

Lightly resuming running my fingers through his hair, my brother turns away, but I can see the corner of his eye, and he's staring at Erik.

I finally get annoyed, "Philippe."

He knows he's been caught and turns around, not saying a word, "Yes?"

"Stop," it's simple, but it's a threat.

"Or what, dear brother?" his voice seems almost to laugh at me, "I hold all the power in the household."

"Not here, you don't," Erik growls in my defense.

I place a hand on his arm, trying to get him to stop, and he does, but he stays poised to attack again at any moment.

Philippe turns to me and then back to Erik, "My apologies, my nerves have the best of me."

Erik glares at him, "And why would you be nervous, Monsieur?"

"Well," he smirks, "For one thing, I'm in a room with a known killer."

Erik growls and it takes all of my strength to keep him in the bed, my arms wrapped around his stomach and chest in a desperate attempt to keep him sitting, if nothing else. Philippe has shot out of the chair and is pressed against the far wall. I carefully move the hand that was on Erik's chest to his forehead, pressing back slightly, pinning him to the spot, but also whispering comfortingly into his ear. I say nothing in particular, I just try to calm him down. It works.

I feel his body go limp in my arms and his breaths start coming in gasps. It took all of his energy to fight me.

Philippe moves nervously back to the chair and sits. His hands are visibly shaking.

I turn to look into his eyes, "What was that for?"

"What was what for?" he growls in response, cautiously eyeing Erik.

"Erik wouldn't hurt you, not without a reason, you have done nothing to make him want to kill you! Not until now," I quickly add.

He shakes his head, "Yes, I have."

"What? When?" I yell.

"Just now, before you started to talk," he looks down.

"What? You stared?" I start.

"No," he stops me, "I wanted to rip off that mask! I wanted to walk up to him and tear that mask from his face, and he knew it! He knew I wanted to! That gaze, those eyes, he read my thoughts, he knew."

CHAPTER 11 STARTS HERE

I shake my head and look down to Erik, who is looking to Philippe with an almost hurt expression.

"Monsieur, I thought that you were staring out of fear, not," a pause, "this. If I had known I wouldn't have scared you."

"Yes, you would have," Philippe curls into the chair.

"I have killed for less, this is true, but never for that, I wouldn't kill a person for that," Erik admits.

"You lie," Philippe whispers.

Erik looks at me, then him, and growls, "Why would you even want to know what lies behind the mask? Why would you care? Is it curiosity, or just plain stupidity?"

He shakes his lowered head, "If my brother can love you, even with your face, then I guess I can learn to as well."

Erik looks at him in shock, and then, ever so slowly, moves to peel the mask from his face.

The marred skin is as twisted as ever, and the strange lighting does nothing to soften the sudden twists and turns of the skin. Philippe looks over finally, and to my surprise does not gasp, but instead slowly stands. I watch as he approaches and then stands above us both.

I fear what his actions might be, but I see that I have no reason to as Philippe slowly turns, and whispers, "Thank you."

Philippe shocks me even further when he walks out, not another word.

Erik moves to replace the mask, but I take the lifeless porcelain thing and gently set it aside. He looks up at me, a little hurt, and I take a cool cloth and run it over the right side of his face. His eyes close and his breath softens, but he does not fall asleep.

I know this by his faint whisper, "Raoul, would it be too much to ask you to help me take a bath? I fear how dreadful I must smell by now."

I laugh and press my lips to his cheek, "Are you sure you're comfortable with that?"

He looks at me, "Why? Aren't you?"

"Well, I guess by now I have to be, but you're the one that's been unconscious every time I've seen you naked," I point out.

He smiles and kisses my lips, "I think I'm tired of that, though. I want to know that you're there with me, and that it means something now."

"Now," I whisper into his ear, "it means everything."

He smiles and I gently pull him out of the bed and into my arms. One of his hands curls gently behind my neck and he rests his head on my shoulder. Carrying him into the bathroom, I carefully set him on the ground and quickly start the water, getting it to the right temperature.

Moving back to his side, I don't have to worry about removing a shirt, he told me that he preferred not having to drag one over his wrists, so I carefully stand him up to remove his pants and socks.

Holding him up so he can walk over to the tub himself, I gently lift him over the side and rest him so his head is on my chest.

His jaw clenches and I instantly react, "What's wrong?"

He shakes his head, "Nothing avoidable."

"I can try," I plead.

He smiles weakly, "My wrists, touching the water. Please, I'm alright, it just stings."

I nod and reach for a washcloth. He lets me gently massage him as I wash, and I carefully stay as modest with the job as possible.

Eventually I finish, and as I turn to put the wash cloth aside, I feel a hand on my shoulder, pulling me backwards. I turn and find myself face to face with Erik. He looks into my eyes and I suddenly feel a burning sensation between my legs that I'm not a stranger to, but have never felt around another man.

ERIK POV

I hold him face to face with me, and I can feel heat building between us. I finally break the invisible barrier keeping us apart, and I press my lips to his. His eyes close first, then mine. I want to be able to see the look on his face when we kiss, but something tells me that would be like cheating, so I keep my eyes pressed closed. I know that he will do the same.

I feel one of his hands reach up to cup my right cheek and suddenly an image flashes through my head. My kiss with Christine. I see her in front of me, and not him. I feel the soft of her lips travel down to my neck. I tense.

Opening my eyes, I see Raoul pulling back.

"Don't stop," my voice is a strained whisper.

He listens and kisses my neck again. His hand moves to my chest and I completely relax. He nips at my skin and then looks back up at me, his face resting on my damp chest.

"What was that?" he whispers.

"What?" I look down.

"You tensed," he whimpers.

"A bad thought passed through my head," I wave it off, "It's over now."

"Was is about me?" he starts to move his head away.

My hand moves to keep him where he is, "Never."

He smiles and relaxes against my chest once more. His mouth, though, does not continue it's trail, and leaves me almost hurt.

He sits up and whispers, "Let's get you out of here and dry."

I smile and try to stand on my own, but I place too much strain on my wrists and just manage to bite back a cry of pain. He quickly takes my wrists and hovers them in the air, allowing them to avoid all contact and then lifts me out of the tub himself. I stand on no longer shaky legs, and smile at the triumph. I may not be able to hold things, but I can stand on my own, and after a few, tentative, steps, I realize I can walk as well.

Raoul smiles and come up behind me, wrapping a towel around my waist. He takes another and drapes another over my shoulders. He lightly moves the towel over my hands and wrists, then moves gently up my arm, drying me off.

I turn to him, "I can do this myself."

He sighs, "I would rather you not."

"Raoul, I'm fine. I'm regaining energy and I can at least do this on my own," I insist.

He doesn't stop and I give up the fight. Raoul, it seems, can be just as stubborn as me.

He smiles, knowing he has won, and lightly takes the towel off my shoulders so he can reach my back better. He says nothing about the scars. I know he sees them, but he says nothing. Why?

I feel the towel first move around my back randomly, and then I feel it start to trace the scars themselves. He unconsciously draws attention to painful memories from long ago. Does he know something about them already? Is that why he remains silent?

"Raoul," I calmly warn.

He stops and then quickly resumes a random motion, whispering, "Sorry."

There's a long silence, and then his voice reaches my ears, "Do they hurt?"

I shake my head, "Not anymore."

We fall into another silence.

I finally speak, "You know." Not a question, a statement.

He nods, "Yes. Madame Giry told me what she knew."

I shake my head, "She knows nothing of that place."

"Then let me here it from you. Please, if you will, let me hear the story from you," he whispers, his arms circling me from behind, holding me comfortingly to his chest.

I sigh, "Later."

He nods, and with a hurt look, finishes drying me off and helping me get dressed.

I roll my eyes when he is finished at his pitiful look and pull him closer to me, lips mere centimeters apart, "I only meant to get back into bed, I'm tired. I'll tell you, I never meant to hurt you."

He shakes his head, "You didn't hurt me, I just didn't know what you meant by later. Knowing you, I thought it meant days."

"No," I smile, "merely minutes."

I claim his lips in a quick kiss and we walk back to the room I've been sleeping in. It is not my room, but I don't think he is ready to see my room just yet.

Sitting back down in the bed, his arms tighten around me, and I prepare to tell the most painful story of my life.

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