Time passed, but I couldn't be sure how much. I stayed in bed, in the deep darkness of my home. It could have been days, it could have been weeks, but time mattered not to me. I only managed to force myself to move when the thirst that clawed at my throat became unbearable or I needed to relieve myself. It was hard enough to hold a cup in my poor, painful hands. The water I managed to get to my mouth quelled the hunger that gnawed at me from just below my ribs.

The days and nights all blended together in the darkness, though I could guess that it had been at least a week when the swelling in my hands finally began to subside and I was able to bend my fingers, albeit quite painfully and stiffly. I tried quite earnestly to push all thought of Christine Daae from my mind, but the memories of her voice lingered, teasing me. I wondered if she even remembered her angel.

I shook my head to clear the thoughts away again as I sat up in bed. As I swung my legs over and placed my feet on the floor, I administered the same test I had every time I'd gotten up since my foolishness had deafened me. I stamped my foot against the floor, but I heard nothing. I stamped my other foot against the floor, still nothing. Sighing, I pulled my rapidly deteriorating frame up, wavering a little once I was on my feet, and I carefully made my way back out to where my organ stood, silently begging to be played.

It frustrated me so. It was maddening that I could not continue to create music because of one mistake. My eyes wandered to the boat, still resting where it had since that night, however long ago it had been.

My hands were better now, not back to normal but they never would be, and I had not yet become weak enough that I would be unable to make one last journey above ground. Even if I could not hear her beautiful voice again, I would be able to perhaps steal a glance at Christine. If I could see her just once more I knew I would not die an entirely unhappy death. If I could catch her smiling her brilliant smile, even just for a moment, I could die in peace.

I cleaned myself up as best I could; three of the fingers on my right hand were gnarled and immobile. Even if by some miracle I managed to hear again I would never be able to play my organ the way it was meant to be played again. I could barely manage to button my shirt or slip into my jacket. Were I another person with a less horrid visage, I might've had help for such things. I might've been able to ask for help with such things.

I omitted my usual white bow-tie after attempting for the better part of an hour to tie it properly, instead lighting a few candles so I could make sure that my mask sat right on my face. Looking at my face in the mirror, I hardly recognized myself, mistaking my gaunt, sunken cheek and the darkness around my eyes for those of a ghast! I looked positively skeletal, so much that I questioned whether it was wise for me to make a trip to the surface after all. If anybody caught sight of me…

I closed my eyes, breathing in long, slow, deep breaths in an attempt to still myself. When I again opened my eyes, they flashed brightly with a resilience I hadn't seen in myself since I'd first heard Christine's voice. Not a trace of emotion was left in my face. If someone saw me, let them see. I was a man on a mission. Soon, I thought, soon they will forget about me. Perhaps that is a good thing. For tonight, one last scare. Let them try and catch me.

I straightened my jacket and I pinned my pants, which were sagging unpleasantly in the rear. Once I was certain that I looked the best I could possibly under the circumstances, I climbed into my boat and pushed away from the shore of my home. I found it difficult, but not impossible, to hold the oar as long as I kept both hands wrapped around its aging wood.

Once I finally arrived at the other side, I pulled the boat up as far as I could to prevent it from floating away while I did what I needed to do.

I walked along the tunnel that led to Christine's dressing room, quickening my pace every few steps. I found myself growing anxious and excited to see her this one last time. When finally I reached the room, I was amazed to find her sitting there in her dressing gown, brushing her hair as she looked at herself in the mirror. I stayed back, just in the shadows, making certain to keep her from seeing me.

She looked sad. She wore a smile, that same brilliant smile I'd seen on her face many times while I'd tutored her on her singing from the exact spot where I currently stood, but it didn't reach her eyes. Seeing her this way made my heart sink. What could possibly cause her such sadness? I wondered, surely she doesn't miss her angel so much that it brings her pain.

I wondered if I should say something, but knew it would be useless. I couldn't hear her replies, even if I focused on her mouth as she spoke I wouldn't be able to catch her words. Still, it broke poor Erik's heart to see her this way.

I took a cautious step forward and swallowed hard. As I did, a horrific pain shot through the right side of my head, just behind my ear, shooting down into my neck.

I groaned, my hands flying to my head as the pain peaked and then dissipated. It was only as I hunched over, breathing hard with the aftermath of the pain, that I realized I had heard my pained grunt. My eyes widened as I stood up, tapping my foot carefully against the stone floor. I could hear it! It was like I was listening through a thick swamp, but it gave my poor soul just a glimmer of hope that all was not lost quite yet.

I looked back up to find Christine staring at the mirror, staring through the mirror, confusion and concern in her eyes. "Angel?" Her voice was like music to me, soft and lyrical in the way she said her name for me. I wanted to call out to her, but I feared that she would want to see me again.

I staggered back down the tunnel, rejoicing with each echoing footfall as I hurried back to my home. I had much to do before I could even think of appearing to her again.