The clock chimed dully in the house as Christine turned her key and let the masked man lead Meg into her home. She still lay limply in his arms and she couldn't help but feel dreadfully rushed, as if just laying her on a couch would save her life. Christine threw the keys down on the small table that lay on one side of her door. They bounced once before finally settling down on the wood with a small clang. Christine walked briskly into the living room, making a weak motion for Meg to follow. The man followed and carefully lay her down on the sofa, Christine watched from behind, chewing her index fingernail anxiously.

"Is she going to be alright?" she asked softly.

The man turned to look at her and his eyes held something that Christine could not name. They were gentle, soft almost…loving.

"She should be fine. It looks as if she got quite a bump on her head though. We can't be sure until she awakes."

"Are you a doctor?"

"No," he chuckled softly, "I'm not a doctor. Though I did study it. I could be one if I chose to, but I found my music was much more important to me."

Christine listened intently and then nodded, a little more reassured. If he had studied as a doctor he must know what he is talking about. Slowly, she sat herself down beside her best friend and with a shaking hand smoothed Meg's blond hair from her face. Christine was so worried about her best friend that she did not notice his eyes did not leave her form. Christine jumped as she felt a strong hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly.

Christine exhaled slowly, as if to collect her emotions into herself. "I'm just…a little shaken up, that's all."

"Would you like me to stay here until your friend awakes?"

"Please." She said softly, her eyes drifting over his face. The menacing mask staring back at her.

"I'll inspect her when she awakes to see if she needs further medical…"

"Would you like some coffee or tea?" Christine interjected quickly; she didn't want to talk about what would happen if Meg needed more medical attention. The man was immediately hushed and he considered her for a moment before saying,

"Tea if you wouldn't mind."

Christine nodded and stood in an instant. She ran into the kitchen and placed the kettle on the stove. A small nagging voice in the back of her mind was telling her that she should thank the man and send him on his way. But yet, she didn't have her parents to call, and her only close friend was lying unconscious on the couch. If she was left alone she would be in a right state. She would be scared of the very shadows attacking her as her friend had been attacked.

Christine leaned her body over the counter as the kettle began to heat up. She drummed her fingers on the hard surface, apprehensively, as if the kettle could be not fast nor slow enough for her liking. When its shrill sound echoed throughout the house, Christine grabbed the already prepared cups and stirred in the tea bags. Cautiously, so not to spill them, she carried both glasses back out into the living room. She found that the man was sitting on the chair beside where Meg was lying, his eyes snapped up to her as she entered the room and Christine handed him the cup. She then sat herself down right in front of the couch where Meg lay. She felt better to be closer to her.

Christine took a sip of the hot tea and felt it burn all the way down her throat. Instantly she felt her entire body relax, she loved tea, it always mellowed her out.

"So," she said finally, "What do you do?"

The man took a sip of his tea before replying, "I'm a composer. But I have held many other occupations as well."

Christine's eyes widened, "A composer? Have you composed anything I would know of?"

The man shook his head, "No, I am currently working on a piece, my life's work. I hope that to be made into an Opera."

"How wonderful! I would love to hear it. My father was a musician."

The man nodded with interest. "I'm not surprised. You have a beautiful voice."

Christine found her cheeks grow hot, "Oh no, don't say that. I haven't sung in a long time, not seriously anyway. When I was younger my dad always used to enter me in competitions, telling me that I would win them all. I got quite into it actually."

"Did you win?"

"Afraid not. I never won a single one of them. I received Honorable Mention once I think, but I won't lie to you. I was very discouraged. After awhile I just gave up on it, I didn't see much point in it anymore."

"It's a shame to waste such a voice, with some proper training you could use it as a career you know. You shouldn't have given up on it."

"That's nice of you to say. But I doubt it. That's the one thing that he always wanted me to do, win a competition. Every time I lost I felt like I had let him down. I just couldn't do that anymore."

"I know what it feels like to disappoint your parents."

Christine looked up at him from her mug of hot tea. "Really?"

He nodded, "They never saw me to be a musician. They had…other plans for me. They didn't support my music, but I just couldn't live without it."

"I know what you mean," she said taking another sip of tea, "I couldn't live without my music either. Sometimes I can pound out a piece on the piano for hours at a time."

"So Christine,"

Christine almost choked on her tea from the sensual sound that emitted from just her plain name.

"What do you do?" he asked her.

"I'm…I'm between jobs right now." She said softly.

"Ah." He said, "I see."

They were both engulfed in a very awkward silence. Christine couldn't think of anything else to say to him and he was likewise.

Well actually, there were many things that he could think of to tell her, but he was certain it would frighten her away.

"Will you play something for me?"

Erik's eyes snapped up to her form, her eyes were hopeful, who was he to deny Christine?

"If you wish it."

She smiled, a beautiful thing, her teeth were almost perfectly straight and white. Erik found that even he was tempted to return it.

"The piano's in here."

Slowly, she rose to her feet and led him into the music room. He followed slowly, taking to examine each picture which the lined the walls. He stopped as he entered the music room, just taking in the sights. Obviously, she prided herself in the room for it was very tidy and well arranged. Erik slowly sat down at the piano and let his fingers graze over the keys.

"What do you wish me to play?"

"Something of yours. I want to hear something you've composed."

Erik closed his eyes and began to play. Christine felt her eyes close as she relished in the sound, it was a quiet and slow piece, and she felt her heart swell. But even the most major and joyful of chord could not remove the tainted sadness that each note clung to. The song reached the higher crescendo and Christine felt as if her heart would burst. Her veins were rushing with some unfamiliar emotions. Happiness, Desire, Lust…and then Hate, and Betrayal. Christine felt her breath quicken in spite of herself. Until finally the piece ended and Christine stood there with her eyes closed, completely breathless.

Slowly she opened her eyes and found them lock with the mysterious piano player. She was frozen to the spot, his eyes were consuming her. She was drowning in their icy green depths and she couldn't escape…

…she wasn't sure she wanted to.

He stood and took a step towards her. Christine's heart beat increased but before she even had time to react she heard a distant murmuring from the living room.

"Meg," she breathed, her eyes still locked with his.

They both began to hurry to the living room. Her blond head moved from side to side and her eyes struggled to open.

"Meg?" Christine asked softly, kneeling down beside her friend, "Meg, can you hear me?"

"Christine? Christine, where am I? What happened?"

"We're at my house. Meg, I found you unconscious in the park. Are you ok?" Meg didn't reply and Christine looked hopelessly back at the masked man. "Is she going to be ok?" she asked, he kneeled beside her and lay a hand on Meg's forehead, then around to the back of her head.

"I'm a doctor," he said softly to Meg, "Do you know your name?"

"M…Megan Giry."

"How old are you?"

"2…23."

"Tell me Megan. Does this hurt you at all?" The man pressed softly in the back of her head.

Meg shook her head, "No…I have a terrible headache."

Erik nodded, satisfied, he turned back to Christine's worried face. "She'll be fine Christine, don't worry."

"Oh thank God!" she exclaimed, her face breaking out into a grin.

"Well I should really be going then," the man stood and Christine slowly followed him to the door, "She'll have a headache obviously, some Advil will probably help it subside, and she may have a rather large bump on her head wherever she was hit."

Christine nodded dumbly and opened the door, the man walked out into the night. "Thank you so much, I can't thank you enough. If it wasn't for you…How can I ever repay you?"

The man let a small glint of humor glisten in his eyes,

"Oh Christine," he said softly, "I'm sure I'll think of something."

A/N: Ok, here we go! Thank you for all of your support and reviews. I love them all. I have a lot of ideas for this story and won't abandon it completely. Sorry about the long delay in updates.

Ok, so thanks for reading, and remember to review!