A/N: Wow, I wanted to post this chapter yesterday, but my computer just would not cooperate. God help me if I'm the only one who's ever felt this way! Any way, some of your questions may be answered in this chapter, Please review, I want to know if you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, or any of it's characters. (Oh but how much fun I could have in the world if I did!)

Chapter 11:

Now Kristen wished he would have walked in on her slamming a pillow against the wall. She could not see Meg's face, but she knew by the way the poor ballerina was breathing that she was as nervous as could be.

"What... are you doing here?" His voice was now directed to the young girl, and he stepped into the pale light. As she looked upon this man, clad from head to toe in an elegant black, with his mask contrasting heavily with his attire, within her grew a horror she could not have described in a million years. She could not stop her hands from shaking, or her brow from lifting in fear, they were reactions beyond her control.

"I..." She swallowed deeply, she felt as if her throat was closing. The very sight of him stirred within her a panic she had only tasted upon knowing of Buquet's death, and upon seeing Christine disappear from the stage. All of those memories flooded back with this new image, this dark shadow with that porcelain white mask.

"Erik, please don't hurt her" Kristen said, standing slowly from the bed. "She was only worried about me, she has caused me no harm, and she will cause no harm to you either."

Erik recognized the pleading in her voice. She obviously cared about this girl, however fatuous Meg might be. How anyone could tolerate such a gossip queen was beyond him. He could imagine her returning to the surface to tell everyone that the Phantom is alive and that he's captured Kristen Verlaine. It entered his thoughts for a moment that perhaps he should not allow her to return, but that would only cause havoc where Madame Giry was concerned. The last thing he needed was Antoinette at his throat for the return of her daughter, and he didn't like the thought of keeping such a silly little twit in his quarters to begin with.

"Please, sir." Meg pleaded. "I just wanted to make sure she was ok... "

"You can stand" Erik had nearly forgotten the little rat at the sight of Kristen on her own two feet without assistance. In his voice, Meg recognized a heavy relief, and care.

"Yes, I can stand." she replied softly. It was then that Megnoticed just whatKristen was wearing. The greatest gown she had ever seen in her entire life. It was a magnificent dark green, with the most bewitching of decorations at the bodice. The very site of the gown conjured thoughts of mysticism and charm, the straps at her shoulders held together with two very gorgeous looking stones, her graceful arms left bare, the dark fabric reaching the floor around her feet. Certainly Kristen had not come upon this gown on her own. He had given it to her.

"She cannot stay" Erik said, his voicedescending to a less threatening intonation.

"No, she cannot" Kristen replied quietly. Meg just watched bewildered. Kristen could show emotion through her blind eyes! and her demeanor was of pure calm joy. She seemed to repeat everything the Phantom was saying... as if her mind was so full of thought towards this frightening man, that words refused to come from her? But Kristen hardly seemed frightened, but then again, when had Kristen ever seemed frightened at the idea of the Opera Ghost?

And the look she saw from him was not pleasant either, to her anyway. He was caring towards her, Kristen had been right in her words. He seemed happy that she could stand, that she was healing, and yet, never did that sadness leave his eyes. It was his neutral emotion, it would never... ever leave.

"I will leave," Meg said nervously, "I promise not to intrude again. I just... I just wanted to make sure she was ok." She was still quite frightened at him, and Erik realized that.

After a long and somewhat disturbing silence, the Phantom made his decision about what should be done with the little ballet rat. "Go" he said, "Leave now, and tell no one." his voice was a whisper as he held the curtain for her to leave. She indeed fled the room, and left the dungeon afterward.

Kristen was amazed. He had let her go free, with no talk of agreements or negotiations. "Erik, that was very kind." she declared with soft astonishment. Never could she imagine he would allow that to happen.

Erik stood, and just watched her. She was so beautiful, the gown he had given her did little to hide that. He had to avert his eyes, he could not continue to look upon her this way, but how could he help it? He sighed a painful sigh, and turned to exit the bedchamber. Kristen's heart sank within her chest. She heard his expression of anguish, and never could she have imagined that a sound could seem so sad.

"Erik..?" she called, hearing him leave. He moved out into the main area of his lair, however quiet he kept his breaths of melancholy, her ears easily picked up on them. She willed herself to move on the ankle which caused her pain, it did not seem so painful any more, and what was on her mind was far more important than what was happening at her ankle. She left the room as well, feeling the velvet curtain at the doorway brush against her fair cheek.

Meg had been so afraid. Trembling as if her life was about to end. This was why he had hidden from the world his whole life... this was why he wore the mask and this was why he was destined to live his life alone. He collapsed before the organ, fell to sit on the bench with obvious affliction. To know these things was as heartbreaking as Christine's rejection had been. It was another moment to him, of knowing that he was doomed to dwell in shadow forever. Tears streamed down his masked face, from eyes which seemed to be ablaze. His sobs were becoming evident, and Kristen could not will herself to stand still and simply listen.

She stepped over the first obstacle of the uneven stone floor, and realized that she remembered what the next step was to be. Patterns were always easily imprinted in her mind, she forgot things very rarely. She knew he was at the organ, she had heard the bench's legs slightly scrape against the floor as he sat, but he played nothing, he only wept. She moved with great caution over the ridges of the floor, until finally, she loomed over him, in her gorgeous emerald gown, her hands folded together at her abdomen.

"Erik..." she whispered. He could not bare to look up at her. His heart was broken again, he could not look upon the next lovely young woman that would leave him there alone. His pain was a mix of knowing that Meg had been utterly appalled upon seeing him... but somewhere within his heart he knew that when he saw Kristen stand like that, he saw her walking away from him.

"Why are you crying?" Kristen asked softly, it broke her heart to hear his sobs. Her brow lifted in a worried expression. He did not answer, he couldn't answer. Any words would have been choked on. It was only with his greatest strength that he could withhold full crying. She knew he was feeling something terrible, but to what extent, she could not even begin to comprehend.

The candles in the cellar were slowly burning out. The two had remained where they were together for the longest time, in silence. The whole atmosphere seemed to be riddled with sadness, it seemed to be made of pain. Kristen could still not get it out of her mind that he had allowed Meg to leave so freely. As she stood before him, her thoughts were a mass of contradictions and gladness. He had made Meg leave, but Kristen was not plagued with the same obligation. She could stand now, and she could walk, but he did not ask her to leave. On some strange level, she felt somehow important. Important to him.

"Erik, what's wrong? Please don't hold more from me. You will feel better when you let it all go. Please tell me... let me help you." She begged.

"What help could you possibly grant me?" He asked her, looking up into her beautiful features. "What help? Kristen... you were right, I am completely helpless."

"I don't understand... " Kristen said softly. Now she proceeded to dare something she could not have even imagined ever doing. She knelt down, and sat on the very bench which he sat, beside him. Her heart raced, but upon receiving no reaction to her gesture, she quickly calmed.

"Christine... left me" he said to her. "That night, she left with Raoul de Chagny, and I never saw her again." There it was, the truth of the matter had just entered her ears, and she was paralyzed with a sudden, greater sadness. She knew all along that something like this had happened, but to hear it from him, straight from his mouth, in that beautiful voice he was always capable of projecting... it was truly amazing in a very dispirited way.

"You loved her..." Kristen said, lowering her head in woe, "I'm so sorry that had to happen to you. No one should go through that kind of pain. Who was this Raoul de Chagny?"

"Christine's childhood friend." he replied to her, lowering his head and covering his face with his hands. "I never saw her again... I will never see her again. I loved her." He felt a hand come to his shoulder, he knew it was hers. Her touch was always so gentle, always so careful and loving.

"Meg was so afraid" He said. "She was so afraid, you should have seen the terrified expression she presented to me."

"Meg is an immature little ballet dancer... She doesn't know how to hold her tongue, you must know that."

"Kristen, you are healing." He said with worry now to add to his tone. Kristen heard the words he spoke and she began to realize... this may be more serious than she had at first anticipated. "In no more than a week you willbe fine. You'll be fine, and no doubt Meg... or her deceiving wretch of amother would be back to collecther guest of honor. When you first came to the Opera house, my sweet Kristen, I didn't know how anyone could allow someone who has no connection to the Opera, to stay here. I didn't want you here, and I tried to make you leave, but you somehow had the courage to argue through my threats. I've never seen that before. Everyone has cowered from me... everyone. I have never known love, the world has been cruel to me... but not you. Now... you're getting better, you're healing, and soon I know that you will ascend into the light of day, and leave me here in shadow."

Kristen was speechless. She had not known him long, but just long enough to be able to take what he was saying seriously. His words had brought tears to her eyes, evident tears. She could have never dreamed of having such an affect on him. She closed her broken eyes, letting her tears fall over her lovely face. For the most part, she had difficulty believing that Christine Daae could have left Erik in the cold like that...for some friend of hers. She realized now that what Erik was afraid of, was being left alone again.

She took her hand from his shoulder, and allowed it to fold with the other in her lap. He had promised her she could leave, he was holding no more prisoners.

"Erik... I think, that... Christine was wrong to be so cold." She whispered.

Erik couldn't understand how he had just allowed himself to confess everything to her. He felt her withdraw her hand, and he knew it was a gesture to create comfort, but ending it seemed to be a symbol that this was going to take the same turn aslife always did for him. He could just see himself, returning to his old ways, watching over the rehearsals, sending notes to the managers, living this sorry life that wasmade only for a man with such a cursed face. The most tragic part to his prediction, was that his lair would no longer be occupied with any other but himself.

With these thoughts, he stood.
"It is no one's fault that my appearance is unbearable to be seen. I only asked to be loved... I only asked for the slightest bit of compassion. It scares me Kristen, that I am going to die this way... in this hole, and no one will know that I am gone. No one will remember me."

She was now disbelieving. Everything he was saying to her was too much for her to handle. Fierce tears were rolling down her cheeks. The fate he spoke of was truly frightening, and it was only a prediction. But she could see that he truly believed in these heinous forecasts, and it almost scared her to hear such outlooks. She covered her mouth, because she could feel herself beginning to sob. However extreme his thoughts were, they touched her somewhere deep down inside. She remembered Nicholas, and she remembered the feeling of losing him forever.

"Certainly I will have no children to remember me, and no wife to care for. I have only had you Kristen, the greatest friendship I shall ever know, and I'm about to lose it. Can you understand now?" he asked under heavy distress. "Can you see now why my life is a path of endless sadness and solitude?"

Kristen moved from the bench, standing slowly on her injured foot, and her good foot. Her face was stained with tears.

"Erik, how can you talk like this? How can you believe..."

"Because it is true. It is true... all of it. I was born to live... and die alone" As he spoke these words, he had to kneel to the floor. He could no longer stand straight at thepain which was torturing him. This doom. When he thought of children, so innocent and unconditionally loving, he wished sometimes to know what it was like to be a father, even if only for a moment in time. When he returned to the horrid truth that he would never be given such wonder, death seemed to him like the only way to stop the despondency. Somehow he managed to live this way for as many years as he did, alone... but he was growing used to haveing her in his lair. He would surely die, if his heart was broken yet another time.

Kristen stood beside the organ, the candles which had been lit were quickly diminishing, and leaving them in a darkness that only he could rightfully see.

"Erik..." Kristen sniffled back the tears. She felt as if she herself was the one going through the pain which he was feeling. She was sobbing at his words. How could any man truly believe that he was not good enough to be a father, or a husband? It was almost as if she were in his shoes the way she was beginning to cry.

Upon seeing her grow distressed, Erik rose from the floor, and walked over to her with some speed.

"You will not be sad for me, do you understand?" he asked her, taking her shoulders into his warm graceful hands. He never wanted her to pity him, and now,with the capability of admitting to himself that she truly meant a lot to him, he could not allow her to be inhardship over the curse which he was meant to endure."This is my fate, and my fate alone. I will not allowit to hurt you. God in heaven, whom has willed this illfate upon me, may be the only one who knows that you are the greatest woman who ever lived, to be able to show such kindness to a monster such as I. I wish that you would never leave, but I know that you will want to... I know that you cannot live in such a place as this. This place was made for a monster, not a queen."

Kristen inhaled deeply at the sensation of his hands on her shoulders. As if he were playing another piece of glorious music, she seemed to fall into his touch, she seemed to be consumed by his care. As his words entered her mind, she realized that he was falling somewhere far. She wanted to help him, she wanted to save him, but how? She was not capable of such courage the way he said she was.

She still could not will herself to believe that he was so self loathing. When she was around him the very thought of loathing any part of him was absolutely non-existant.Every man deserved to love, and be loved, and certainly every man deserved to father a child. In her stubborn beliefs, she knew this was not fair, it was simply not fair. How could God allow such horrid things to befall one man alone?

"You will be happy" She told him, allowing her hand to softly touch the unmasked portion of his face. "You will have everything you think will never be given to you."

"You don't know what you are saying." he returned, false hope was a deadly thing, it was a driving force whichcould never mean anything more than defeat... and possibly death. "Do not say these things to me,Kristen,they are not true" He seemed to press into her palm, as if it were the very last time he would ever feel the touch of another.

She sniffed delicately, she had probably never cried this much inside, let aloneshow it."You will be happy" she told him again, in a soft whisper, as tears fell from her eyes. Before he could respond to her words, he felt her move towards him, as she advanced to place a single kiss upon his lips.
It was not a deep kiss, that passionate lovers would make. It was the kiss of a woman whom had never expressed love to another, and was veryshy upon doing so, and he could never have prepared for it.

He couldn't understand the feelings that were surging through him. The shock that his heart seemed to endure, and the way it seemed to travel throughout his entire being, as if she was a bolt of lightning, plaguing him with her power. Once before he had been kissed, but he had known that first time, that it was a kiss to save the lives of others... not to show him any kind of affection. This was different. This was pure, it was honest, loving, and true, and it was Kristen.