Probably the shortest chapter I have ever written for this..but, an important one for sure. I'm not sure if this will show up once I upload it, but, there are two black lines spanning the entire word document that I simply can not delete, so, my apologies if they distract you. Also, if you can not see them….no, I am not insane.

MJ MOD: You don't understand why he kidnapped her, or why he kept her? Originally, he kidnapped her mistaking her to be Christine from behind. See Chapter 8.

DefyGravity18: Haha, I root for Raoul in any form. Thank you SO much for your compliments!

Jbwriter: I'm glad you find this to be believable…sometimes I'm afraid everything I write is a little outrageous.

By the way, I just put up a one shot with a total sterotype title 'Love' because I couldn't come up with any better…do be darlings and go read it and review! D

Adelaide's POV

I sat a good distance from the bed, wanting nothing more then to throw my arms around his great frame and sob….yet, I did not. I can't tell you what stopped me from doing so, but I knew then, just sitting there, I would regret it looking back. It was not disgust that restrained me, I had overcome that. And it was not fear – I smiled knowing that I had never feared him as much as he would've liked to had me fear him.

Not everything can be like a novel. My marriage to Raoul had been a fairytale…a dream come true. My kidnapping had been a horror. My time captive had been a drama. I would not let the last moments unfold like a tragedy. I had to call upon every nerve I had to keep myself calm.

I jerked awake when Erik began to mutter again. He stirred more violently then I thought he had possessed energy left to do. I pressed my hand over my mouth as if that would stop the tears from welling up. Nadir had collapsed in his exhaustion in the vanity stand's chair, facing Erik.

I stood, unsteadily, and sat next to him on the great bed, hardly allowing my weight on the mattress. I could no longer restrain myself. Silently, I removed his mask that for some reason had been placed back on him during Nadir's private watch. A last attempt at dignity, I supposed. As if Erik was an ill child I was attending, I stroked the top of his face and to where his hairline was.

He reacted to my touch as any human would.

As any human would.

The being that put the fear of God in hundreds, terrified an opera house, killed many with his own hands, had nearly killed my own husband…was only a man.

"Christine….oh, Christine…"

I gasped sharply, it had been the first time since his final attack I had heard him speak so coherently, every syllable was said perfectly. I drew away and stood…Nadir awoke and, sitting up straight again, averted his eyes, as if to give us a final moment. Again, captor and prisoner – oh, quite unique. However, if you had only heard the scene, you would have believed it to be maestro and ingénue between his cries and my sniffling.

"Oh, Christine….my Christine…"

How he had loved her. How he loved her still. I never thought a dying man's words would cause me such pain. My heart broke.

"Christine," his very voice shook, reflecting that shattered soul. "Christine, my angel, Christine…dear, sweet child…"

The once strong voice that Christine had known, that I had known for a short time, had been reduced to pathetic croaks of agony and remorse.

I covered my face with my hand and let out a gasping sob….how tortured he had been…for years…I was only now hearing what he had been crying for more then ten years. His faces contorted with pain, his disfigurement making it look all the more twisted.

God forgive me for doing this…

"Yes," I said in my lightest, sweetest voice, recollecting the calm, quiet voice of Christine when I had known her. "Yes, Erik. I'm here."

His face relaxed and his hands groped to find Christine's. I continued to weep, unable to silence it.

"Don't cry," he begged, "you know it pains me to hear you cry," his words began to slur together as he slipped further and further into obliviation. "Oh, Christine," he moaned, "I…I love you."

I sobbed again, clutching his hand. No human deserved this. Pitiful…pathetic…absurd….that any man….oh, oh, Erik! My poor, Erik. I now thought like Christine, my God!

I took a deep breath and sat by his side once more.

Touching his face lightly, I whispered, "And I love you." Without giving a thought to what I was doing, I bent and placed one kiss on his hallowed, yellow, cheek, my tears wetting his malformed face.

Sitting back, I placed on his shoulder and swallowed my tears, allowing his hand remain clasped over mine.