Hey guys!

I'm SOOOO sorry I havent updated in so long - I could NOT figure out how to update another chapter facepalm But I have now, so here we go!

Thanks everyone for the reviews!

Chapter 2

When Christine was just about to leave, Meg ran to her. "Christine, I wanted you to have this." she said, holding up a box wrapped up with a bow around it.
"A birthday present?" Christine said to herself. She had nearly forgotten it was her birthday. 'Twenty years old today. My, what an old maid I'm becoming.' she thought to herself with a smile playing softly on her lips. Slowly she took off the ribbon and paper. Opening the box, she gasped. Slow as ever, almost as if she was afraid to see it, she pulled it out. A white mask was in her hand.
"When the mob came, they took his masks. I found this one - it was by his bed...that monkey music box - you know the one? It was beside that. I see you looking so sad all the time, and it hurts me terribly. I hate seeing my sister friend like this. I know he is the reason for all of the sorrow...so I thought you'd like to have something of his." Meg explained, touching her friend's arm lightly.
Christine didn't answer. She dropped the box, paper, and ribbon, holding the mask in both hands. Tears welled in her eyes as she carrassed the outline of the back part of his mask.
This once held his face, covered up what he was so ashamed of. This once belonged to him. And will again..."
"Thank you, Meg." Christine said, tucking the mask into her cloak pocket. She kissed Meg's cheek in thankfulness, then fled out the door. She needed to see him, more then ever now. She needed to give him back his mask.

Christine coughed. She felt silly wearing a kerchief over her mouth and nose. It was uncomfortable and hard to breath - and she felt so silly wearing it. Just thinking those thoughts made her want to cry. How had he felt when he wore his mask? Much the same, she supposed.
But right now, her heart felt heavy for a different reason. She wasn't working at a hospital, but a homeless shelter, treating those with wounds from the street or feeding their starved bodies back to health. Anyone found on the streets half dead or starving was brought here - a four room housing. Two rooms served as the place to keep all the homeless. Another, the kitchen and supply room. And a last one for a small, rustic bathroom.
Christine had come here in what she knew was just vain hope, but just the thought of Erik on a bed here, half starved and half dead, and all alone made her heart cry until she decided to work here. She looked in false hope at the faces, young and old. He wasn't here...he wasn't-
she stopped dead in her tracks, blinking her eyes earnestly. Too many times had her sight fooled her, too many times had a well dressed man in a long cloak deceived her mind. She squinted to see his face, but had to get closer. Seeing a nurse pass by, Christine quickly grabbed her arm.
"Excuse me, but who is that man over there?" she asked the older lady.
"We do not know his name - he never talked. Some men brought him here a few months ago. We thought for sure he was dead, but alas, he was alive - but just barely. We cared for him the best we could. The only time we ever heard his voice was when he snapped at us, which even that is rare. He mostly sleeps. Sleeps and eat. If I were you, I wouldnt go near him. Seeing his eyes will shatter even the most uncaring heart. Oh, how sad are those eyes! They're gorgeous, but so awfully sad. I was here once, on night shift. I was passing his bed when I heard him mutter in his sleep. He said "without her life is not worth living. Why am I here? I should be dead." Another strange fact - he always sleeps just like that - I've been here since they brought him in - I never saw the other side of his face."
Christine gazed at him with her dark brown eyes filled with swirling tears. So he hadn't gotten over her - he hadn't turned to hate her. She felt like her feet were betraying her, seemingly glued to the floor. She waited in earnest for the nurse to walk into the kitchen, then she hurried over to the man she knew was the one she had looked for for so long.
He was asleep. She knelt by his bed, holding his hand, almost afraid to touch it, as if she would realize that this was only a dream, and he'd fade away before her. But he didn't fade, rather, in his sleep, his hand twitched lightly at her touch. With her other hand she gently traced his face; the outer side of his cheek, his jaw, as if she couldn't truly believe he was here after so much time. So many people had tried to convince her that he was dead. She had refused to believe them, no matter how much they pleaded, or began to look at her as if she were going insane. But here she was, caressing his face...
His eyes slowly opened, not seeing her right away. Her breath caught in her throat - the nurse had been right - what heart wrenching eyes he had! So gorgeous in color and depth, yet so sorrowful from years of unexplained hurt. Then he saw her face. Confusion and mere hope dawned in those beautiful green eyes, but was quickly snatched away into full recognition, then wickedness. He slapped her hands away, not even explaining why. Angrily he stared at her, and she back, though she only because she was too shocked to do anything else. Why had he slapped her? The nurse said he thought he should be dead - why hurt her now that she was here?
"Why are you here? Get out!" He said fiercely.
"Erik, why do you want me to go away? I've been trying to find you-"
"You found me. You're childish curiousity has been fulfilled. Now go!" He said in a mocking manner.
"I'm a volunteer nurse here..."
"You wont be my nurse! Christine, go from me!"
"But tell me why you wont talk to me! Have I hurt you so much? More then you hurt me?"
"You know nothing of how you hurt me. Now why don't you run home to your precious Viscount de Changy, Madam, and tell him of how awful I am, even now?"
"But Erik, I didn't-"
"Nurse! Nurse!" Erik started to shout. Two nurses came running before Christine could tell him anything.
"What is it, monsieur?" The nurses asked frantically.
"Get this woman from my sight. I wont have her being my nurse."
"Ma'am, please come with me. I'll show you another area that is more suitable for you." The one nurse said, lifting Christine to her feet. Christine looked back as she was pulled away.
"Good bye, Viscountess de Changy." Erik said, again mockingly.
"But I'm not-"
"Enough, madam. Please don't disturb our patient any longer. We are desperate for help, but if you just aren't qualified-" The nurse started to say, but Christine cut her off by ripping her arm out of the woman's hand and running out the door. She knew the tears from the heart wrenching sobs stuck in her chest and throat were about to come out, and she refused to be humiliated in front of someone she had once admired long ago. No, not long ago, but just minutes ago. He had changed her heart now. He was successful. But he had hurt her too much.