When I awoke I found my closet to be re-stocked with glamorous garments, and my bathroom was nearly bursting from the abundance of lavish soaps and perfumes. I could only sigh over them, and wish I were still the young Swedish girl who lived happily in poverty.

Before coming out of my room I breathed in deeply, and was once again disappointed by the stuffy air—for it was the only air ever to emanate in this underground palace—and thought back to the night on the rooftop. I imagined I had never left, that I was still safe and free and close to home.

Most of the day was spent preparing for Faust. We practiced most heavily on Marguerite's final part, where in all her suffering she throws herself at the mercy of God. My emotion had surpassed my song, as was rare, but I felt this woman's despair writhing inside of me. She too had lost something very dear to her.

It was unusually early by the time we finished. At a loss for words, and not really wanting to go back to my prison cell, I asked:

"Can we go up to the roof again?" He stared at me for a moment before replying.

"I fear it is too light outside, my dear. Perhaps tomorrow." Disappointed, I said:

"Oh, yes, the workers must still be on their shifts." I paused before adding, "Or do you just not like the light?"

"Both," was his reply.

"How can you dislike light?" I asked, "Besides, you have candles all around."

"The candles are for your comfort, my dear. As for disliking the light, may I ask you why you dislike the dark?" I thought for a moment.

"Well, because…because it's frightening. You don't know what's there and what isn't." He smirked.

"Then we both have our reasons." I think he meant to end the conversation there, but I persisted.

"Yours being…?" He glanced at me.

"I do not enjoy being seen anymore than you enjoy seeing me," he spoke quietly, and I hung my head, ashamed at the truth of his words. "When I stay in the shadows, you can make believe I'm anyone you wish. Even a vicomte!" My head shot up rapidly.

"What—what do you mean?" I asked, suddenly afraid as he devoured my face with his fuming eyes. I glanced down and saw his hands clenching and unclenching as he fought to remain in control. Would—would he strike me? And for what?

"You know very well what I mean! Do not pretend you don't think of him, Christine!" My heart was pounding in my chest. He was jealous! I coward slightly, taking a half step back.

"Erik, he—he is my friend."

"But not only! Certainly not for him!"

"Erik—please…" Tears pricked at my eyes. "I—I told you I would not see him. I'll keep my promise."

"And for how long? Hmm, my dear? How long until you tire of my company, and wish to let me go in return for his hand?" He was visibly crying now. "I will not lose you," he whispered.

"You won't—Erik…" I ended lamely. But I thought, then, on his words. Would I leave him? Banishing the idea, I told myself no. I could never do that to him. "When you let me go," I told him, "I'll come back. I swear it." There was a still silence in the moments that followed, as though both of us held our breath.

"Then I will trust you," he nodded, shaking off tears in the process. "Forgive me."

We stood awkwardly then, facing one another, and I could not bring myself to catch Erik's gaze. I prayed to heaven for something to say to him, anything that would help us find peace. Before I could, however, he spoke up.

"It is growing late, my dear. You should retire." But I wasn't tired, and I didn't wish to sleep.

"Erik," I began, suddenly finding my voice very small, "Will you read to me, before I sleep?" He looked at me as though he hadn't understood. Whether he was surprised I still wished to be near him, or that I had spoken up at all, I couldn't tell.

"If it would please," he said slowly, studying me.

"It would."

I moved my long, bony fingers over the few strands of my hair, silently cursing my foolishness. Why had I said those things to her? Why! I growled lightly, hunching as I sat up in my coffin. All because of that damned boy! I thought. That perfect boy that I was sure Christine would throw herself at if only to leave me!

But she had sworn—Sworn!—to come back to me. Should I let her leave, then? I thought. I could not, and yet I would have to. Eventually, I would have to say goodbye, leaving her with two options: return to me or be brought back by force.

Oh, but I would not let her linger in the darkness forever, chaining her to this clandestine double life. No, we could escape, and go far from handsome vicomtes, and damp cellars. She would be my light and my song, and I would make her happy—so happy! She would never want for anything!

I shivered. To keep her company, I would have to set her free. If she cares, I thought, she will come back.

And what better time than the present?

Ack! I know, I know! It's short! And crappy! But I promise (seriously) to have the next chapter up within a few days, and it will be the last chapter of the two weeks. No, that does not mean the story will end, it's going to be a lot longer. And sorry for the long wait for this chapter, my dad has been hogging the computer and I haven't been able to get on. Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed!

Ps: Tell me if I'm getting OOC. Flames on this subject welcome.

Quiet2885—Yay, I actually tricked someone with the chapter title! ;) And please, you butchering the characters! Have you read your own fanfic? Sweet Music's Throne was amazing! I'm urging you to make a Leroux romance NOW!

Wendela—I changed chapter 7 because of its inaccuracies. I put Hannibal instead of Faust, acted like there was a shore outside of Erik's house, ect. Haha, Erik a bedroom dream? Well, heck, old, noseless, skinny Erik IS my bedroom dream! ;)And thank you, I do try to respect Leroux. ) About Susan Kay, I might read it one day, just to see what all the fuss is about, but definitely not while it's selling for two hundred dollars on Ebay, lol.

Miranda7911— Joins party YEAH! Ack, stupid boat. I'll keep that in mind next time he rows across the lake and realizes he's missing an oar. Hehe. Wow, you just said everything about Kay's book that I feared. And isn't she pregnant w/ Erik's kid at the end, too, or was someone lying to me? Either way, it sounds like she has butchered it, so I'll be scratching that one off my reading list. About the pool on the roof, if you go to the beginning of the actual Apollo's Lyre scene, it describes a swimming pool that the ballet boys used to learn to swim in in the summer. And hey, not only did I add a LINE about Erik not liking the sun, I added many! LOL! Oh, and you'll see why Christine brings Raoul to the roof later. Thanks!

Allegratree—Thank you! Well, I added your contrast to stuffiness, even if it came a little late.

Hereswith—Thanks!

Reading Redhead—Thanks! Aw, that sucks! Well, I'm rooting for you!

Cmdr. Gabe E—Thank you so much! And while there's not too much going on this chapter, next chapter will be pretty long, and include light fluffy moments! Weeee!

Blaze of the Inferno—Thank you so, so much! I'm really glad you liked the rooftop scene, I was hoping to make it cute without being fluffy. You know, your insight on Erik's deformity have really given me thoughts for the next few chapters, and its encouraging me to take their relationship very slow, and rightly so, I think. And don't worry, if this chapter was bad, I'll correct it with the next post, so don't give up on me! Again, thank you thank you thank you! –hugs-