AN: It's my official final exam period in one week, which means my head has to get in the study game and out of the writing one :( Before the madness begins to totally consume my life, I've written this chapter. If you read it, I believe you will not be disappointed. I only ask you leave me lots of reviews to tide me over in this time of academic torture :)

P.S.- I found my keys!

Disclaimer: I own a pair of keys. Honestly, that's about it.


Chapter 32

She opened the door to my darkness, and she stood there a moment in that glaring light. I watched her, my eyes adjusting slowly to the light, only to have it quickly shut again. I could hear her erratic breathing in the dark, even though her beautiful little dancer's feet were very quiet.

"Your mask," she whispered, trying to steady her breathing. For a moment, I'd forgotten it wasn't on. I turned away from the music box I'd been making, and slipped my mask back on.

"I'm sorry, Mother." I spoke shyly, eyes trying to make out her outline by the dim lamplight at my workbench. "I...made a p-present." I turned back to the box, about to lift the lid. "It's a music-"

"Don't." Her voice nearly choked with a sob. Immediately my hand went back to my lap. I sat there, watching her figure and hearing her breaths.

"Mother...have I made you angry?" I ventured quietly. The other one was always mad, always beating, but not her! Had I finally alienated her, too?

'No, no." She sniffed.

"Th-then why do you cry?" Mother had never cried in front of me, nor had she smiled. In my shadow-room, she had only ever...existed before. Why was she so different now?

"Don't question your Mother," she reproached quietly. I nodded my head.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly. I felt her eyes on me, another new development. She avoided looking at me when she could before.

"If-" She cleared her throat, and smoothed her voice a little, "if you turn off your little lamp, I'll let you come to Mother."

My heart skipped a beat as I heard her say this. For as long as I could recall, she hadn't touched me, or let me touch her. There was always, always distance between my mother's beauty and me. I did not know what to do, what manner of trick this could be, so I sat dumbstruck. I could do nothing more than watch the shadows shift around where I knew she was. She knelt in the darkness.

"Turn off your light, Erik." Her hands came out slowly, outstretched to me. "Come hold your mother." In the dim light, I could barely make out the milky white tips of her fingers, but they held no malice. Yearning finally overcame me, and I turned off the light and stood.

In the darkness I walked forward, hands slightly outstretched, too. I couldn't hear her erratic breathing over mine anymore as I walked. And gently, so very gently, my hands brushed against the fabric of her sleeves, and her hands found mine. Gently she led me to kneel in front of her, hands still on mine. I could hear her sobbing quietly, but she drew me to her, my head at her shoulder. And I smelled the lavender soap she used, and felt the straight, coal black hair I'd never been allowed to touch before. It made me so happy...to just be held by my own mother!

"Mother," I whimpered quietly into her shoulder. I knew she was crying now, and why. "It's all right...it's all right if you don't love me. If you can't..love." And for that moment, I meant it. For that touch, and for that scent, it would have been all right if she'd never loved me at all.

"Erik," she spoke softly, in between her sobs, "I'd even die for you..."

I didn't understand until it was too late, until her wrists had bled her life slowly over me in that shadow prison of mine. My beautiful, broken mother died because I'd touched her. I was the reason she cried in pain.

"Oh, Christine..."


Was this a face? Dear God, Christine thought, is this Erik? The skin was like tissue paper over the right side of his face, exposing veins and the sunken malformed bone of his nose and the protruding of his sharp cheek. He had almost no hair at the crown of his head on that side, only faint wisps of it here and there. She could find no trace of the man she'd lived with in this poor, deformed boy.

Nothing, but those eyes. The green eyes in the photographed looked right back at her, making her breath hitch in her throat for a moment. These were not his proud, defiant eyes...but they were still his. In his eyes, all the sadness in the world...

Her memory flashed to that night months ago, when he'd held out a blood red flower to her. They were beautiful crystal, deep and hypnotic. Hadn't she loved his gaze, hadn't she felt safe under it? Would she feel the same way if Raoul looked at her? She shook her head quickly. No, Erik's eyes were different somehow, as if they were always watching her. She'd always remember those eyes, that looked only at her with such a burning intensity, as if-

"Christine, I love you..."

Her hand covered her mouth, and she trembled. Had she realized everything too late?

"No," she spoke to herself, mind wandering to her task. "Not too late. Not yet."

With a whirl of the blankets she was out of bed.


He'd returned to the house of his childhood. Condemned and foreboding, he'd unlocked the gates of the past as if this was the only place he could turn to. He'd fallen from the grace he'd known with her by his side. It had been little more than a year, but it was enough to turn this solitude into hell. And he knew this. Erik sighed painfully as he heard the stairs creak heavily as he walked upstairs. He was going to die soon. He was sure of it, and Erik knew exactly where he needed to go to die. He needed to open up that black room one last time, and wait for it there.

I'm sorry, Christine...I've harmed you, and now I'll harm myself as well. I know both will damage you. He chuckled only lightly. Or perhaps I'm making myself too important...perhaps, even to you, it would not matter.

The world suddenly felt colder to Erik than it had ever felt before.


Nadir opened the door of his home to a peculiar sight. Christine Daae stood in the living room, clothed and groomed to leave. Antoinette stood right by her, baby in her arms.

"Take a right at Delancy, and that should take you to a more familiar route." Mrs. Giry slipped the spare key into Christine's hand. "Take this to let yourself in."

"And what is the meaning of all this?" Nadir closed the door behind him and walked to the women, mouth set in a grim line. He set the violin case down gently in the armchair at his side. "Miss Daae, what are you doing?"

"I'm going to see Erik." She spoke quietly, but matched his gaze with her own. "Don't try to hold me here, Mr. Kahn."

"I thought I'd explained this," Nadir spoke calmly, trying to relax the situation. He had a sneaking suspicion that his wife was behind this somehow. "You're suffering from Stockholm-"

"I don't care what you think I have, sir." She spoke politely, but her face flashed irritation. "I don't care what you think he's done to me, either. I...I know you've tried to help me, and that you were worried about me. But, you don't have to anymore. I'll be fine now. I only ask one thing of you," she took a breath, "don't get in my way." With that, she walked swiftly past Nadir, and was out the door.

"She's in her right mind, you know. A smart girl." Mrs. Giry settled Madeleine in her high chair, then turned to see her husband's pensive face. "If you'd like to go ahead and catch up to her and apologize, I'd be more than happy to keep dinner on the stove a little longer."

"If you're wrong about them-" Nadir began.

"I'm not, and you'd better hurry."

With a swift movement he picked up the violin again and headed out the door after the rash young woman, wondering where his wife got that faith of hers from. He ran, rather pathetically, in his black slacks and tie, calling out to her.

What am I doing?

"Christine! Miss Daae!" he called breathlessly. How had he become such a slow runner? Perhaps this desk job truly was affecting him now.

"What is it, Mr. Kahn?" She spoke quietly as she halted in her tracks, and turned to face him warily. Nadir paused for some much needed breath before handing her the violin case.

"He's not at the apartment." She walked to him and took the violin from his hands. "I went by there to pick up the violin for you."

"He's gone?" she asked, worried now. As much as she'd learned about Erik, she didn't have a clue where he'd go now. She ran a hand through her curls. "Where did he go?" Her eyes searched the older man's face. "You know, don't you? You know where he's gone."

Nadir shook his head slowly. "No, even I don't know Erik's mind sometimes. But," he pulled out his car keys, "it's going to rain tonight. I can't have you walk all the way home like this." He motioned slowly, almost apologetically, back to the house. "I'll take you wherever you want to go."

Christine watched him only a moment longer. Even if she was upset for all that had happened, right now her mind was on Erik. "All right."


Mrs. Giry heard the car as the engine turned, and let a little smile grow. She sat in front of Madeleine, feeding her some strained carrots for dinner. Her hand reached up to pet her child's soft black hair. It reminded her of the same beautiful hair her friend had possessed so long ago. Slowly her mind began to wander to the distant past, to the ballet academy and the dreams she'd shared with Madeleine Auberges.

Madeleine... Her child cooed, bringing Mrs. Giry back to reality. She laughed softly as the baby continued to talk to her mama in garble speech. Madeleine, protect your child now...watch over Erik now. Let her find him.


"I'll wait for him at the apartment," Christine spoke to herself, not Nadir, in an attempt to be calm. Something just did not feel right to her, had not felt right since he'd told her that Erik was missing. "Perhaps I could even ask one of the neighbors...maybe someone saw Erik-"

"Christine..." Nadir stopped at a red light, and looked at her, clearly confused, "Erik doesn't have neighbors. No one's there."

"W-what?" She looked at him in surprise. "The apartment building-"

"It's been empty since before Erik began living there. His father owned the property, and so Erik installed himself there after...everything that happened."

"He's...been living there all alone? Since he was a child?" Her mind wandered to the few times she'd left that apartment, when she'd escaped and when she'd been led away by Erik. She had always been in such a hurry that she hadn't stopped to notice...she'd never seen another person, never heard another voice. How could a teen, even as battered and harmed as he'd been, call that a home and not another prison?

"To Erik, that one apartment studio was freedom, compared to what he'd had before. He's never returned to that house again, much preferring this little, isolated happiness. Before he met you," Nadir admitted, "this life was all he needed."

Christine covered her mouth with her hands, and took a few deep breaths. She could not allow herself to break down right now...somewhere, Erik was not well. She understood that much now. Antoinette's words rang in her ears, causing her to panic.

"I will not lie to you, Christine. For Erik, I doubt there will ever be another love...No, that's not how Erik is at all."

Where have you gone, Erik? Where was home for this poor man? Where was there safety, any sort of comfort? If not his apartment, where?

"Please, Mr. Kahn," she spoke softly, almost afraid of what she was saying, "take me to the house." She looked up at the gentleman driving her. "I need to go to that room."

With a quick swerve, they took off in the opposite direction. Nadir wondered how Christine, so like his own wife, could believe in Erik. In that moment he felt ashamed at how brittle his own faith was turning out to be.


It's raining, he thought to himself. He could hear the drops and the wind as it picked up from where he sat on the staircase in the unlit house. Sometime halfway up, his heart had given out. He'd been planning on returning to that room, but he couldn't face it, even now. Being inside the house was even too much for him to stomach. He felt weak as he slumped down, head in his hands again.

This had never been his home. The only place he'd ever belonged, he realized, had been the black room. But even that had been tainted by blood. Now, he had nothing, no place to die quietly. There were a few claps of thunder outside, snapping him back to his present task and away from his commiseration. His hand weakly rummaged around his pocket, until he found what he'd been searching for. The thin wire waited for its master's use one last time.

It's enough, Erik said to himself. For a moment, she loved me...that's enough. A moment such as that, he wiped at a stray tear, is worth dying for.

"Erik." Her voice cut through all other sound, and caused his heart to twist painfully.

No, she's not here, she's far away now. How cruel of his mind, to play this trick on him!

"Erik!" Not only her voice now, but her tiny footsteps, too? As painful as the mistake could be, Erik found himself lifting his eyes in hope. And there she was, soaked in rain and looking for him.

"Christine.." he'd not planned on speaking, but his voice said her name weakly. She turned in the dark house, looking at the shadows.

"Erik, where are you?" Her eyes searched relentlessly, trying to see if any of the shadows in the house were moving towards her.

"Go away," he whispered hoarsely, standing now. Soundlessly he walked down towards her. "Leave this place."

"Not without you." She turned around, trying to hear where his voice was coming from. She had been so afraid that he'd been hurt that she rushed in without any plan, but here he was, still safe. Her tears of relief began to fall without her noticing. Her hands stretched out, trying to feel her way to him.

"Erik..." A sudden bolt of lightning just outside lit the room for only a moment, but it was enough. She'd seen him standing just in front of her. She moved to him.

"Don't come any closer." A threat and a plea at the same time. He was tired of all this...he'd been kind, for once in his life. He'd let her go. Erik felt he could not keep her safe near him again.

"Erik," she sounded hurt by his rejection. "Erik, please...don't go."

"Things can't be built to last if they're not real," Erik said, "Whatever we were, it wasn't real. You gave me everything and I took it. The memories you have of me, what you feel, none of it is true. I stole everything." He heard her take another step towards him. "Just leave."

"If-if I leave," she wept now, her voice breaking, "if I leave you, you'll die. I know that now."

"It was never real, Christine." He feigned strength, even though he felt like he would collapse at any moment. "You can't harm me."

Christine glared ice at him, but came forward and found his hand in the dark. She brought it up to her face, where the tears streamed down. "Isn't this real?" She lowered his hand to her breast, just above her heart. "Isn't this?" She heard no sound from him and looked down, tears trickling down the sleeve of his shirt.

"I...didn't want to be trapped in there with you. I was afraid of you, and what you could do to me. I almost thought I hated you." She knew it was painful for him to hear, but everything needed to come out. "But you gave me music. And from that grew happiness. I was happy, Erik, because you were in my world." She pressed her lips together and prayed for strength.

"Now you've given me one more thing, Erik," she squeezed his hand and took a step closer, "you've returned to me my freedom. I have every right to choose what I want."

Christine could hear his shallow breaths, and closed her eyes. I missed you. She cried, pressing her head into his chest. "Please, Erik, let's go home."

Erik had been numb at the moment she'd pressed his hand to her chest and he'd begun to feel her pounding heart. His shock had turned to shame as she'd admitted her fear, only to become numb again as she pressed her ice cold form close to him. He felt her head at his chest, her hand holding his, and couldn't find it in himself to let her go. His free hand wrapped itself around her, and he kissed her hair.

"All right," he choked out. He held her tightly, as if she'd be taken away again if he did not hold fast to her now. "But I won't ever let you go this time, Christine." He meant it – he couldn't imagine doing this again.

She nodded into his shirt.


AN: Ta-Da! Like it? Love it? Hate it? REVIEW, THEN! It makes me happy, even when studying for my Behavioral Psychology exam (gonna need a LOT of happy to get over this one...) Thanks to the ever fabulous Cymbidium!