Disclaimer: I don't own PotO. Merci. Hope this chapter goes over well.

Chapter XVIII: Madness

Neither Adrien nor Isabella had noticed that Erik's mood was somewhat strained that evening as he played the new composition for them. This didn't help his frame of mind one bit, and he spent the entire night up pacing in circles through the labyrinthine tunnels. At one point he found himself walking in absolute blackness, and had to tell himself to open his eyes.

"Why?" he hissed, driving a fist against the solid stone wall. Why everything? Why am I like this? Why am I a genius, but I can't tell anyone because they all despise me? Why are these two –teenagers- in my life? Why is it that they understand music more than anyone I've ever met? Why did I rescue her from that drunk in Italy? Why did I agree to foster him as a son? Why did she ask me in the first place? Why did she ever toy with my love for her to begin with, all those years ago? Why did they have to find out that Raoul is still alive? And why, a growl escaped his throat at the thought, why do I get the feeling that they aren't happy here anymore? What else is there in this world to be taken from me?

Erik ran a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath. "I will have answers," he promised himself.

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Adrien and Isabella spent the night awake as well, their minds full of Erik's new concerto and the discussion with Raoul earlier that day.

"What are you going to do?" Isabella asked. "Raoul looked like he could use someone to take care of him besides Samuel—

"I can't leave Erik alone either," Adrien argued. "He would fall apart. If I went to help Raoul, he might even try to kill the viscount."

"Point," said Isabella, adjusting her nightgown. "But we have to do something."

Adrien sighed, changing the subject. "Erik's new piece was really impressive."

"It was amazing… I could feel myself reaching out in the song, in a way," she looked up at him. "Like a part of me was actually there in the music."

He eyed her in surprise. "Moi aussi. Erik somehow combined us in that song. He is a true magician to pull something like that out of his fedora."

Isabella laughed. "That reminds me… do you know if the opera is going to be repaired at all?"

"I haven't heard anything. Why?"

She bounded up. "Because I've just had a wonderful idea! We need to find Erik!"

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Erik whipped around at the sound of voices in the tunnel. He was quickly swallowed by the shadows; whoever it was had brought a light.

"Erik, are you here? It's us, we have an idea!" Thank God. He was only being paranoid again.

Erik stepped from the darkness two feet in front of them and the girl jumped.

"Well, what is it?"

Adrien laid a hand on her shoulder, and she spoke. "Do you know if the opera will be repaired?"

He shrugged. "Probably."

"Well… could we maybe go back and repair it?"

"Why?"

"So we could… live there. Like you used to."

He recoiled as a barrage of memories assaulted him: Christine's dressing-room mirror, taking her into the lair, and… rejection. Humiliation. For the last time.

"No."

Isabella looked dejected to have her idea shot down so suddenly.

"Why not?"

Erik sighed heavily. "There are too many memories for me to want to go back there."

Adrien wasn't willing to give in so easily. "In that case… shall we, that is to say, Isabella and I, move in with the Vicomte?"

Erik flinched and glared at him. "I knew this would happen," he hissed venomously. "I knew that if you ever saw him you would turn to him and not come back to me!"

"Erik, he needs someone—

But a demonic light had come into Erik's eyes, and he advanced menacingly on Adrien. "Traitor," he snarled, whipping out the Punjab lasso.

Isabella gasped. "Erik, no! He's your son!"

Erik stilled, turning his burning gaze on her.

"I'm sorry…"

Adrien relaxed the hand that he had been raising slowly to his face, and Isabella sighed in relief.

"…that it has to end this way!" Erik roared, flinging the lasso around Adrien's neck.

"No!" Isabella screamed. "Erik, please! I love him!"

He froze, pivoting slowly.

"What?"

Isabella was sobbing. "Erik, I love him. Please, give us a chance."

His eyes narrowed and he tightened the lasso. "And why should I do that?"

"Because… because you care about us."

Erik's eyes widened as suddenly as they had narrowed. He blinked, looking around at Isabella. It was a long, tense moment as he turned to Adrien and stared into his eyes. Adrien stared back, pleading silently for the demons inside Erik to be vanquished by Isabella's words.

At last Erik spoke. "Yes, I care about you. And it is for that reason that I will allow the opera to be rebuilt."

Adrien tugged the lasso over his head. "Erik, you had us scared to death. What happened?"

He sighed heavily. "I've been keeping my demons at bay for too long, instead of confronting them. Ever since Christine died, in fact." He gestured at Isabella. "And the girl has a way with words."

She smiled, resting her head on Adrien's shoulder. "Erik, I know this is probably a bad time, but… when we went to visit the Vicomte… well, he's old, and not as capable anymore as you. Do you think we – that is, Adrien and I – could look after him?"

Erik had tensed at the mention of Raoul. "You would still… come back every night?"

"Of course. No one could take your place, Erik, no matter how hard they tried!" she smiled.

He pondered a moment longer, just to stall. "Oh, all right," he huffed, seeing her impatient look.

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A/N: Probably one or two more chaps after this one. I'm getting ready to end it, but I wanted to throw in how close to insane Erik is getting, especially now that he's older. Hopefully it won't end on a bad note!

Phantomfreak07