A/N Absinthe Readers from Gabrinaland: There was a bit ofa change to this chapter toward the middle. You may want to reread it.

Thanks to all of you for your helpful and positive reviews. This is a lot of fun. Glad you think so too!

Gabrina (Promise I won't post many A/N)

Chapter 10

"You lied," Christine groaned as she squirmed in bed.

The room was dark, as most of the candles had either died or been blown out, and since Christine didn't know her way around she let out a gurgling cry for help.

Candleholders crashed to the stone flooring, garnering Christine's attention at the foot of the bed. Erik cursed under his breath and excused himself for his language.

"How do you feel?" Erik asked, his voice hoarse from sleep.

"Like there's a rock in my stomach," she said into her pillow. She spit out a strand of her hair. "What did you do to me?"

"Nothing," Erik answered quickly. He towered over the end of the bed, though it was too dark for Christine to see his features. All she could see for certain was the mask gleaming white against the darkness. "I never touched you, not once. I swear it."

Christine closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. "That isn't what I meant," she said at last. "I meant to ask why I feel so positively dreadful."

Match light sparked in Erik's hand as he lit a candle and sat at the end of the bed. "You had too much wine to drink."

She grunted, wondering what would become of said rock, which felt as though it were leaning toward betrayal in her gut.

"Monsieur Opera Ghost," Christine said, keeping her voice low, which seemed to quell the sick feeling churning through her.

"Yes, Mademoiselle Daae?"

As much as she appreciated hiswords, Christine couldn't possibly bring herself to do much more than weakly smile. She met Erik's eye and saw the concern in his gaze.

"Have you stayed awake all night?"

"Not all night," he confessed. "I dozed a while when you were sleeping. Why do you ask, Christine?"

She was quiet a moment, mulling over his words. "But you wore your mask all night?"

Erik hesitated before he slowly nodded. "I always wear it."

"Even when you're alone?"

"No one comes down here," he muttered. His eyes met hers, the candle catching the glassiness of his gaze."I am always...without bother."

"But on the street? When you're out in public?"

"There is no one else I see," he snapped. "But I am never without it." His gaze faltered before he turned away and stared into the darkness. "You shouldn't speak when you're feeling ill. It will upset…your stomach."

Christine stayed quiet for a moment as she considered the sadness in his eyes that matched his words. He mumbled under his breath that he would retrieve a glass of water for her before he lit another candle and walked away.

With a frown, Christine lowered her eyes. "My God. What kind of life have you known?"

-o-

Erik returned to Christine's bedside only after he walked the length of his apartment and back. He wanted to control his anger, as he recalled how things had gone the night he had lost his temper.

It could have been worse, he thought, as he held her cup of water and stared at his hands. He could sketch and create music, but in his eyes, his hands served no purpose. He lived from afar, he experienced from afar and he still loved from afar. He was not man enough to take what he wanted.

"Useless," he said under his breath. "Fear will never turn to love. It will only turn to bitterness." His eyes focused on the curtained doorway where Christine was waiting for him to return. A shudder rattled through him. "She will betray me in the end."

He found his life's work, the opera that mocked his existence, and glared at the gold leaf title: Don Juan Triumphant. Eyes cast down, he left it where it lay in a disorganized pile with dozens of other unfinished works. He was certain that he would die before it was ever completed--and even if he did finish it before he died, no one would ever hear it played. What was he but an unknown composer? Any fool with pen and paper could jot down a few notes here and there. He was not so outstanding, so worthy of the stage.

When Erik lifted the curtain he thought Christine had fallen asleep again. He started to leave the cup by the bed, but her eyes flickered open and she weakly smiled.

"My head is pounding," she mumbled. "And I think my stomach wants to come out of my body."

"Ah, yes, that is expected."

"That doesn't make me feel at all better."

"No, I didn't think it would. I apologize, my dearest, there is nothing I can do for you, I'm afraid. Have some water. It may help you're headache."

"How did you know I had a headache?"

Erik shrugged. "You will be careful with wine next time."

Christine took the cup from his hand and grunted. "Next time I will leave it in the bottle."

"A wise decision," Erik replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

While she sipped her water she stared up at him and then sighed. "I apologize."

Erik stared at her, confused by her words. "You-you apologize to me?"

"For my unladylike behavior," she frowned. "I promise I will never end up like this again." She paused and held up the covers. "Though I suppose to you that where I ended up is no great tragedy."

"I left you in peace," he said under his breath. "Just as you requested. I do respect and honor you enough to listen to you, Christine, despite what you think of me."

Christine reached up and grasped his fingers. "You have no idea what I think of you."

Erik swallowed and looked away, nodding barely enough for her to notice.

Christine's grasp tightened. "You are still my angel. I would expect nothing less from you."

He gave a closed-lip smile, finding comfort in her words and visage. He wanted to be a good person to her, a gentleman despite haunting her as a deceptive angel. Everything seemed right at lastuntil Christine gasped.

"Where are my stockings?"

Erik froze, his jaw dropping in horror. "I—I don't know."

Christine's eyes widened. "Did I wear stockings?"

"I don't recall."

"Me neither. I don't believe I did, however if you happen to find a pair of stockings swear to me that you won't toss them in the refuse."

"You have my word, Christine."

Her face turned green and Erik knew exactly what was happening. "Oh my," she said before she dashed from the bed, her hand covering her mouth.

"Not in the lake!" Erik yelled as he ran after her, coming to her aid in time to do nothing more than hold back her hair.