Erik walked up to her flat. Adellade hadn't been there at dinner to celebrate Gustave's birthday…. That wasn't like her at all. There had to be some reason she hadn't been there.

He knocked on her door. "Adellade?"

She opened it and paused, seeing him there. "What are you doing here? And this late?"

"Your absence was noticed at dinner today."

"I can't enjoy dinner at my own flat?"

"You can, but it's also Gustave's birthday."

"So soon?" She sighed and shook her head. "I can't believe I forgot!" Adellade opened the door for him to enter and swallowed. "I know it's a bit late, but I do have something…."

He stepped inside as she vanished into another room. Erik frowned, eyeing the state of things. Furniture had been toppled over, objects had been broken where they had landed against the floor…. He walked over to one of the shelves and knelt down, picking up one of the books from where it had fallen.

"Here it is," she called out, returning with an object in her hands.

"What happened here?"

"What do you mean?"

"It looks as if you and the furniture had a disagreement."

"Oh. That. It's nothing."

"It doesn't look to be nothing."

"It's nothing," she insisted, handing the object to him. "Do give Gustave all my love, would you?"

He paused and grabbed one of her wrists, feeling the bandages beneath.

"You've hurt yourself, Adellade."

"It was only a minor scrape."

Erik frowned, looking at her. Something wasn't right. Her skin was far too pale even in the darkness of the room. Her hands kept shaking and her fingers twitched as she moved, walking around the room without much of a purpose except to walk. There were dark shadows under her eyes and her glance kept darting off to the side as if she was expecting there to be someone else there….

"You've been having nightmares again, haven't you?"

She shrugged. "Can I truly be having them again if they never went away?"

Adellade sighed and sat on the edge of the chair, staring at her hands as she did so.

"Erik can stay if you wish," he offered.

"It wouldn't keep them away." She looked up at him and tried to smile. "Besides: the day's almost over. It's not going to be his birthday forever-and he's certainly not going to be seven forever either. You might as well enjoy it while you still can. I know I would…." She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself.

He set a chair back up and sat down across from her. "Tell Erik."

"I can't help but think back to that day," she began. "And then the nightmares come…."

"It's more than that."

"They're worse. They're not the-I mean that they've changed-they're not the same." She glanced at him. "I'm frightened of them. And I can't sleep knowing that I'll see that again…."

"You need to sleep, Adellade."

"I can't!" She stood. "Not when I see that. Not when the nightmares are…. I just can't, Erik!"

"You need to sleep."

"I can't."

"You need to sleep."

"No." She shook her head. "I can't go back to that. I can't go back to the nightmares."

"But you can't go forever without sleep."

"I can and I will."

"Adellade…."

"Just go," she insisted. "Nothing you say will make any difference. I can't go back to those nightmares. I can't."

XXXXX

"Darling?" Christine asked as they watched Gustave open up his present from Adellade.

"She isn't sleeping." Erik sighed and sat down. "From the look of things: it's been quite awhile since she last slept."

"Nightmares?"

He nodded. "She refuses to sleep out of fear."

"Can we do something to help her?"

"She needs sleep."

Gustave took out the journal and opened it. He paused, eyeing the sketches within. "What are they? They look like blueprints, but I don't know what they are."

He stood and walked over to Erik, handing it to him. Erik glanced over the designs, seeing the familiar shapes and ideas….

"This will go here and this will go here," Garnier explained, pointing them out in his journals. "What do you think?"

"Perhaps…." Erik reached for a pen and sketched something out. "Yet this would not only include that idea, it would also enhance it."

He smiled and clasped his shoulder. "Once again: you have proven yourself a true genius! You're certain there's not a thing I could do to repay you for everything you've done to assist me?"

"I'm quite certain of that."

"Erik?" Adellade called out as she walked into the flat. "Are you here?" She paused, seeing the two of them. "Who is he?"

"This is Charles Garnier," he introduced. "The main architect for the new opera house."

"A pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle…?"

"Adellade."

"Then it certainly is a pleasure," Garnier pointed out, kissing the back of her hand.

"He's only here for a short while," Erik growled. "Now: I do believe we were discussing things?"

"Of course." Garnier turned back toward the journal, making a note of Erik's suggestion. "I wasn't aware you had such a lovely young wife," he added, lowering his voice.

"I don't." He frowned and sketched something else out as well.

"She seems to live with you. And the two of you seem to be very familiar with one another. I had only assumed her to be your wife. Forgive me, though. I just never took you to be so keen to have an unmarried woman live under the same roof as you without a guardian. I thought you to be more of a man of honor and manners."

He sighed, knowing that he wasn't going to give up on the matter. "Adellade happens to be my younger sister."

"I suppose there's some family resemblance there…. Yet she lives with you?"

"She does. Our parents died when she was young and I have overseen the task of raising her."

Garnier frowned and rubbed his chin in thought. "Since I can't convince you to take any of the credit for the opera house, how about I offer what would be your earnings as payment for her education?"

"She has learned far more than any school could ever teach her about all sorts of subjects."

"Yet the more social ones? Things that a young woman of her age ought to know in order to obtain a husband?"

"If it will keep you from asking me to take any credit for this: then very well. You may send her off to whatever school you choose or even hand-pick whatever tutor you wish."

"Consider it done."

"They look like the opera house," Christine pointed out, looking over his shoulder.

"They are." Erik smiled. "She must've obtained this from Garnier."

"The opera house?" Gustave's eyes went wide. "The one where you met mother?"

"The very same." He began pointing at the different designs. "These were the interior plans and this one here was the entry hall. On this page though was the stage itself where your mother performed her arias and every single audience was on its feet cheering and applauding her performances….."