A/N: Hey everyone, just a quick note. I know that Erik is acting very OOC, but I promise you that soon, he will be back to his old self. I will also have chapters in different POV's soon as well. Please keep your reviews coming. Thank you.

Erik's POV

God! I had treated her like a monster, but she had treated me worse. Oh, the way she talked to me! The words that she said! Those horrible, cruel words! I laid there for hours silently sobbing. I wasn't even sure blind men could cry until now. Then again, I never usually cried. I was the Phantom! A man that everyone feared! And here I was crying over what Christine had said to me like a little child. The tears made my eyes sore, and burned my healing orbs before running down my cheek. The room was silent for hours after our fight. Did she leave me and return to her boy? I wouldn't blame her if she did. A little while later, I felt something jump up onto my bed, only to feel Ayesha's familiar fur. Yes, her presence had made me happy, but not enough for me to stop crying. My only companion licked my tears with her sandpaper tongue, as my fingers stroked her fur.

"Oh, Ayesha, I'm not even worthy of your love."

When I grew tired of laying there, I decided to take a stroll around the house. As much as I hated being blind, I maneuvered myself into a sitting position, before reaching around for the walking stick Christine had given me. Once my hand was around the knob, I used it to guide me around anything I could trip over. Once I reached what I believed to be a door, I turned the doorknob and stepped out into the next room. It was silent, except for a crackling sound every few moments. I could feel heat, making it obvious that there was a fire lit in the hearth. This was much better than the drafty room I was staying in. I continued walking around the room, feeling the heat of the fire getting closer. I used my hand to feel around until I noticed that there was an armchair in front of me.

I took a seat, feeling quite comfortable now that I was seated in an upright position. I rested my head against the side of it as the heat from the fire continued to warm my cold body. Soon, Ayesha was in my lap, purring against my hand as I petted her.

"Perhaps she'd be better off without me." I said. "Maybe we should leave here without anyone knowing."

But I knew that was clearly impossible. I had no idea where the nearest town was, nor did I know the way to Calais. My only way to live would be to leave Paris for good. I was a wanted man, and if Raoul knew I was alive, Paris probably knew as well. Suddenly, the door opened, and I heard footsteps approaching, and Christine talking to whom I presumed to be the owner, monsieur Lavere.

"Thank you for helping me carry in these eggs, Christine." he said.

"No problem, monsieur. I'll get to making dinner right away."

"That's very kind of you, Christine, but I'll be going into town. I have a dinner planned with Madame Tusslicy. She's quite the cook, you know."

"You're still seeing her?" Christine giggled. "You were in love with her when I was a child."

"Still am."

I heard monsieur Lavere walking away and smelled Christine's scent getting closer. I stayed quiet in my chair, hoping that she wouldn't notice me. I heard the door to my bedroom being opened, and Christine gasp. It was obvious that she noticed that I was not in bed.

"Monsieur Lavere?" Christine called his name loud enough so he could hear her.

"Yes, Christine?" came a far away answer.

"Is monsieur Erik with you?"

"No. Is he not there?"

"No, he's not in bed."

I continued to stay quiet, until I felt the breeze of Christine passing by. But that breeze did not go away…..No, she must be standing right beside me. I was still angry with her, and so, I pretended to be asleep, hoping to avoid all conversation with her.

"Did you find him?"

"Yes," Christine shouted. "He's in the parlor-sleeping in the armchair."

Her fingers brushed over my forehead, checking me for a fever that wasn't there. Why did she care about me? Why did she care when the words she had said hurt me more than life itself?

"Erik?"

I heard her softly call my name, but I didn't answer her.

"Erik?"

When I didn't answer her, she walked away. Only then, did I open my eyes….. For a while, I sat there, hearing her fumbling around in the kitchen. Soon, wonderful smells began to emerge, smells that made my stomach growl. No, I wouldn't do this! I wouldn't eat what ever she was making. I refused to have dinner with a woman who spoke so ill of me. Did she really expect me to act as if none of those words were said?

"Erik?" she was coming towards me again. "Are you ready to eat? I made dinner."

Yes, my eyes might have been open, but I was not speaking to her. The hell with speaking to Christine. After all she put me through?

"Erik, I know you're not sleeping, and you're surely not dead. Please, talk to me."

"After what you said to me?"

"Maybe I was a little harsh."

"A little? Your words were cruel."

"Erik, could we please just have dinner together?"

I was a little hungry, and I knew she wasn't going to leave me alone unless I agreed to it. I didn't say another word, only stood up and used my stick to guide myself to the kitchen. Once there, I heard Christine pulling out a chair, only to be guided into it.

"I can do it myself!" I growled.

"I just didn't want you to fall."

"I said I was all right!"

Christine sighed, and walked to the other end of the kitchen.

"Don't be like this, Erik, I'm only trying to help you."

"Not even a whore would take me-remember that? Does that ring a bell?"

There was silence, and I knew Christine was thinking about what to say.

"I-I was angry, Erik. You may not know this, but when I'm angry, I tend to say things that I don't mean. You insulted my father-put his words to shame."

She was right. I had put her father's words to shame. But what Christine had said was ten times worse. The chair that I was sitting in was large enough to contain my entire body. I let my aching back settle against it, letting my head lean to the side. I was still tired, making my little excursion from bed sounding more and more like a bad idea. Christine on the other hand was far from done trying to win back my company.

"Erik, you look so tired." she was changing the subject inch by inch as she placed a drinking glass into my hand.

"Drink up." she warned. "It's wine."

Wine? Oh, sweet, delicious wine….I hadn't had a glass in over three weeks. I lifted the glass to my lips, and indulged myself in the bitter taste. This flavor was very distinct. I was a frequent wine drinker, especially when I was feeling lonely-which was mostly all the time. This had to be white wine, there was no denying it. I let the bitter flavor linger on my lips as I slowly sipped it.

"Good?" she asked me.

"Yes, thank you."

By the time I had the entire glass empty, exhaustion took over. My stomach was still a little upset over our argument, making it impossible for me to have an appetite for dinner. I smelled something being placed down in front of me, but I held no interest in eating what ever it was.

"Here, Erik," Christine placed something warm at my lips, but I turned my head away.

"Erik, you have to eat something. How else are you going to take your medicine?"

"I'm not hungry."

"But you told me you were."

"I was," I placed my hand over my churning stomach. "But not anymore."

Damn me! Damn me to hell! This had been all I ever wanted-Christine and I alone-eating meals together, and yet, here I was moving my way from it all. But who was I to believe that she wanted to have dinner with me on her own accord? She was taking care of me-that's all she was doing. If I had my sight, she wouldn't be sitting here with me right now. But I wasn't lying to her when I said that my stomach was bothering me. It was beginning to cramp up. Perhaps drinking that wine wasn't such a good idea.

"Erik? You're breaking out in a sweat." her hand was on my forehead in and instant. Was I sweating? I hadn't been sure.

"Here, let me get you to bed."

Her arm came under my own to lift me to my feet. I nearly fell, but Christine was there to help me stay standing. She walked me back to my room, and laid me down. Oh, this made everything ten times worse.

"Rest up, Erik." she said. "I'll check on you a little later."

And just like that, she was gone. My stomach ached terribly, brining back memories of my illness spent alone. I got sick at least once a month back when I lived beneath the opera house. I believed it was the draft leaking into my house, but, what was I to do? Laying in bed with the flu or chills was not fun, especially alone. There was no one there to cook me broth, or to read to me-I knew Ayesha would have done those things if she could have, but she was a cat and nothing more. My cat curled herself up onto my pillow, playfully swaying her tail in my face. Tonight, however, I was in no mood for games. I swung my arm about to stop her from teasing me, causing my arm to hit some sort of sack that was laying on the floor beside my bed. Curious, my fingers skimmed the tough fabric, until I realized that this was my bag of belongings. My hand dug into the opening, feeling my clothes, even the grooves of my monkey music box. There were even a few books packed as well.

I pulled one out and traced my fingers over the leathery cover. I used to spend most of my time reading until I fell asleep. Reading helped me take my mind off things, especially Christine and her fop. I would never read again…..Oh, how I missed it terribly. Now, instead of reading stories about romance and handsome prince's, I was limited to thinking about them and remembering what happened in every story I read. Boring, really.

I suddenly dropped the book, when a horrible cramp wracked my stomach. I groaned, and clutched my hand over the part that was hurting me. I don't know how it happened, but when the cramp passed, the wine I had drank came up. It was so sudden, that I didn't have a chance to call for Christine or find a chamber pot in time. No, it was so sudden that I leaned over the side of the bed and vomited on the floor. When I had finished, I was out of breath and disgusted. Christine must have heard, or smelled the evidence of what I had just done, and came running in. I was so ashamed of myself.

"Erik!" she gasped my name and I wasn't sure if she was angry or concerned. She must have been more concerned about me, because she tended to me before dealing with the bile that was laying on the floor.

"Are you all right?"

"No, I feel horrible. I'm sorry for what I did."

"Don't be. You're sick. I should have known better than to give you that wine."

She cleaned up after me like cleaning up after a family dog. How embarrassed I was! But Christine did not leave me after that. No, she stayed by my side, tucking me in and making sure that I was all right.

"I see you went through your things." she said, obviously taking notice to the open bag of my belonging. "And what's this?"

I heard her picking up the book I had dropped, the pages softly being turned.

"I knew how much you loved your books, Erik." she said. "I did bring at least one or two."

"Why bother?" I cringed. "They are no longer any good to me. As you can tell, I'm blind. How am I supposed to read a book now?"

"Well, this book seems interesting. The Tell Tale Heart and other eerie tales from Edgar Allen Poe."

Oh, if I read those stories once, I read them a thousand times. His stories always held a moral, a strong one if that…..But remembering them and reading them were two different things. It just wouldn't be the same ever again.

"I used to read a lot." I said. "Almost all the time."

There was a long pause, before Christine said the words I never thought I'd hear.

"I'll read them to you, if you'd like?"

If I'd like? Oh, Christine, if you would read to me, I'd be the happiest man in the world. Though, the Edgar Allen Poe stories weren't suitable for a woman to be reading to me. Poe's stories were dreary and, well, dreary.

"That would be lovely, Christine." I said. "But you don't have to read me Edgar Allen Poe."

"And why not?" she giggled.

"His stories are dreary."

"Nonsense." she assured. "Nothing could be as dreary as those stories Raoul used to tell me on our picnics in my father's attic."

And then, my angel plopped down beside me. Do you believe it! Her body was actually rubbing up against my own! If I died right now, I'd die the happiest man in the world! Her scent was all around me, that wonderful rose scent that her body always smelled like. Her curls were teasing my shoulders as she leaned down to my level and got comfortable to read to me.

"Now, where were we?" she paused and I heard her flip a few pages in my book. "Ah, here we are. The Tell Tale Heart, by Edgar Allen Poe."

Her voice was like soft velvet as she began reading me the story I had only ever read myself. To hear her reading, was like hearing an angel speak to me.

"True! Nervous, very very dreadful nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses, not destroyed, not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How then, am I mad? Hearken! And observe how healthily, how calmly I can tell you the whole story."

I sighed, and my angel even placed my head into her lap. My cramps soon disappeared from mind as her wonderful, angelic voice filled my ears. Her fingers brushed a few strands of hair away from my face as she read to me the story I had only ever read by myself. And, believe it or not, no matter how uncomfortable and dreary the story might have been, my angel continued reading it to me until the very end. Or that's at least what I thought happened. I wasn't sure, because halfway through the story, I had fallen into a deep sleep. The next thing I remembered, was rolling over with warm blankets wrapped around my body.

My nightmares had stayed away all because of Christine reading to me. There were many times back at the opera house that I had read to her, but now, tonight, my angel had returned the favor. But when I came to, and her voice was no longer reading to me, that was when my aches came back to haunt me. I groaned as a dose of pain shot up through my ankle and into my groin. I ignored my body's need to scream, and tried to fall back asleep. Though, it was difficult with Ayesha's tail swaying back and forth in my face. I waved my hand to shoo her away, but her paws only whacked at my fingers. That's when I felt my angel's hands placing themselves over my shoulders.

"Erik?" she lightly shook me, as if only to wake me. Her voice sounded frightened. Had she been frightened over the story? Damn you Erik! That's what you get for letting an angel like her read something so dreary as that! I groaned, and gently rolled over, the blankets coming with me.

"Erik, wake up."

"Yes?" my voice was groggy, but she had heard me.

"Erik, we have to leave here now."

What? What was she talking about? Leave? We just got here not too long ago. Why did she want to leave so quickly? And at this time of night? It was still night-wasn't it?

"Leave?" I questioned. "Why? What's going on?"

"Monsieur Lavere just returned from having dinner with his friend. He said the guards are searching for us. It will only be a matter of hours before they reach the cottage."

"Where will we go?"

Christine placed her hand over my feverish forehead. I still had a terrible fever, and going out into the cold would only make it worse. I knew she didn't want to leave either, but she was concerned about my safety.

"Somewhere, Erik. We can't stay here."

She forced me to sit up, and slipped my jacket over my arms before wrapping a warm blanket around my body.

"Come, monsieur Lavere is letting us take one of his stallions."

She was pulling me to my feet, my legs aching with every step. Ayesha was even crying now, her meows getting far away.

"Christine." I forced myself from her grasp.

"Erik, don't." she warned. "You could fall."

"Don't leave Ayesha." I pleaded. "Let her crawl into one of my bags if you must, but don't leave her behind."

And I only moved again, when Christine assured me that Ayesha was with us. My body felt warm wrapped in the blanket that surrounded me, but when the doors opened and I was outside, the chill was colder than the cellars I had lived in for half my life…..I knew our next journey was going to be anything but pleasant.