A/N: I am glad to announce that I have a beta reader!! Anne52 is like my favorite person of all time right now, and a lot of credit for this story goes to her. She is helping me so much, and she has greatly improved this chapter unlike anything that I could do. So please take the time to thank her, and review!

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The doctors had tried everything to wake Mollia from her feverish slumber. They had bled her, given her all the herbs and medication that they could. She would not wake. All they could do was monitor her, and Madame Giry needed to inform someone of his little protege's condition.As she made her way down, fierce howls and heart wrenching sobs filled the moist, stale air.

His lair was torn apart, much like the night the police searched through it. The mirrors were smashed, shards littering the ground, everything in disarray. And there he was, the Phantom of the Opera. Erik himself lay on the ground, clutching at the mask in his lap.

"ERIK!" Madame Giry rushed to him and reached out, but he slapped her hand away.

"What do you want hag," he spat, the good half of his face distorted with misery. "You want to mock me because Mollia refused my kiss, is that what it is? If so, then go ahead. She was frightened of me and my awful distortion, just like her mother." Madame Giry picked herself up and began to walk off, but before leaving she turned to him, unable to contain herself.

"In all my days of caring for you, Erik. I never would have expected it to come down to this. The reason I came down here was to tell you that Mollia collapsed shortly after I left to head to the rehearsal. We cannot get her to wake up, and the doctors are fearing for the worst. She needs you Erik. She did not refuse your kiss, she was shocked at the action. I told her that you might not react well to her confession, but it seems you did, and that caught her off guard. Go to her Erik, she loves you, and if you choose not to go, it only proves how distorted you really are. "

For two days, there was no sign of Erik, and Mollia's progression traveled even further downhill. Madame Giry had tried to force feed her so she wouldn't die of starvation, but nothing was working. The doctors had given up hope and left, convincing the managers that there was nothing they could do, and it only lead to the cause of more problems.

The managers found a new Prima Donna, and she even took Mollia's old bed. If Mollia ever came to, she would most likely be forced out of the Opera House.

On the third day of Mollia's coma state, Erik came. Madame Giry was there, and she sensed him before he entered. He glided in silently and sat himself at Mollia's side, placing his hand on her chilled cheek. She stirred and moved a little, and Madame Giry shot up.

"She senses you Erik! She hasn't moved since she became sick." The elder woman spoke hopefully.

"Angel... please... don't... don't be mad at me..." She was still unconscious, but Erik knew she was talking to him in that moment.

"Oh mon ami. I was not angry at you . I just didn't know how to channel your reaction. You must pull yourself from this sickened state Mollia. Pull yourself out and come back. If you perish my heart shall perish too, for it no longer belongs to me." And slowly she cracked open an eye.

"What happened?" Erik sighed in relief and gathered Mollia into his arms. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead lovingly.

"All that matters is that you are alive," he answered, and she sighed, closing her eyes until she heard the voice of Madame Giry.

"I have heard of this, but never have I seen it. Mollia was stricken with love sickness. She couldn't have your love, and so she let her body go, not caring about what would have happened to her."

Erik looked down at Mollia and smiled shyly, kissing her forehead again. Her hair was greasy and her skin a pasty pale, but she was still excruciatingly beautiful to Erik.

He refused to leave her, even with Madame Giry on his back, and that night he fell asleep with his angel in his arms.