I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, REVIEW…

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Erik slowly opened his eyes. Lenore hadn't bothered him again, and he had slept quite soundly, so he was feeling very refreshed and ready to be back on his feet. Erik dressed himself before going out; he would have preferred to just lounge about in a pair of slacks but he knew he had to dispose of the corpse in his torture chamber soon.

When he opened to door to the drawing room, he instantly spotted Lenore curled up on the rug in front of a cold, dark fireplace. She was huddled under his cloak, shivering horribly. He remembered how cold his house could get if the fire wasn't kept going, and the floor was a poor choice for a sleeping surface in this cold.

Crouching down beside her, Erik couldn't help but smile. Lenore looked so helpless; just like Christine, she needed someone to take care of her. He put his hand to her forehead, which confirmed his suspicion that she was running a low-grade fever.

Wandering child, so lost, so helpless, yearning for my guidance, he thought. She truly had been gone from him too long. They had given her cause to doubt him, to doubt her own sanity. And now she didn't know what to believe. Why believe the world above? You know humans can't be trusted. But you can trust me; I've never lied to you.

Erik set about lighting a fire, and once he had that task accomplished, managed to gently move Lenore from the floor to the armchair close by using only his left arm. It would only be a few more days before his right had fully recovered; as soon as Lenore was better, she'd be removing the stitches.

Half an hour later, Erik had dragged the body of a policeman out of the torture chamber and stuffed the carcass in a niche in the tunnel he had named the Cursed Catacomb. After all, only those who were truly damned had the unfortunate luck of stumbling into his kingdom. It seemed the authorities had yet to uncover this portion of his realm, or else the many corpses would have been taken up for identification.

It was on his return to the house when Erik came across a female police officer. She had fallen into a crevice and, from the looks of it, had broken a leg. Now the question was as to whether or not he left her there to die. He had never killed a woman who was completely helpless and injured, but just ignoring a damsel in distress didn't make him guilty of murder. It wasn't his fault that she'd come down here, nor should he be held liable if she hurt herself.

"Monsieur!" she called, spotting him standing at the edge of the precipice. A multitude of jumbled pleas for help came echoing up to him, informing him that her flashlight was dead and she couldn't seem to contact any other officers.

"Before you accept my help, mademoiselle, it might interest you to know that I'm the murderous criminal you were sent to find," he informed her coldly in their native French.

"If you intend to kill me, please make it quick," she whispered.

"I have no intention of killing you, woman," Erik hissed. "Either you accept my help, or you choose to stay here and die. Now make up your mind, I haven't got all day."

After a moment of silent contemplation, the woman reached up her arm. Mentally sighing about this newly acquired burden, Erik stretched out his left arm and hauled her out of the crevice she had landed herself in. If he wasn't much mistaken, it was one he had cleverly hidden for the specific purpose of snaring intruders. It would seem I quite defeat my own purpose if I help my victims.

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Lenore was shaken roughly awake, frightening her half to death. Her fear only increased when she saw a strange woman was the one shaking her.

"Mademoiselle, 'as 'e 'urt you in any way? 'e 'asn't drugged you, 'as 'e?" the woman inquired.

"Leave her be! She's ill!" Erik snarled, hurrying over and yanking the woman away.

"Who's that?" Lenore demanded. Stop it! You're not going to feel jealous!

"Officer Victoire Vasser," the woman introduced herself. She yelled a string of French curses when Erik shoved her down on the sofa, which Lenore soon realized was because of a broken leg.

"I'll not have that language in my house, especially from a lady," Erik warned as he located the herbs required to create effective ether.

"He's really serious about that too," Lenore muttered bitterly. "Washed my mouth out with lye soap. Lye!"

"Inhale this," Erik instructed the woman moments later.

"Vat is it?" she inquired suspiciously, her emerald green eyes peering warily at the handkerchief he offered.

"It's similar to laudanum," he explained. "I need you sedated before Lenore sets the fracture."

"Before I what?" Lenore protested. "Look, I've played doctor more than enough already. I don't know how to set a broken bone!"

"I can't do it with only one arm," Erik snapped back. "Either you set the bone, or we dump her outside and leave her to die. I'll let you make the decision."

"Stupid, annoying man," Lenore grumbled, giving him a dark glare. "Fine, I'll do it. But if I screw it up, I don't want to hear a single complaint about my medical incapabilities."

"Zis is very encouraging," Victoire said sarcastically under her breath before obediently inhaling the ether.

Moments later, Lenore was worriedly preparing to kneel beside the sofa and set a fracture that she had no idea how to set. Everything she needed to apply a splint afterwards was on the floor next to her. "Okay, what do I do first?" Lenore inquired nervously.

"Close your eyes and take a deep breath," Erik replied.

"I can't do this with my eyes closed!"

"You can't do it if you pass out from hyperventilation either."

Lenore counted to ten so she wouldn't punch him. Why does he always have to think of everything? And I wasn't hyperventilating, I was just breathing really fast. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, thinking fondly of beating Erik to make herself feel better.

She cried out when she felt Erik's presence inside her mind. It was far more intense than it had ever been before. "Don't fight me, Lenore," he instructed gently. "I agree that you aren't properly trained to set a broken bone, so I need to work through your body."

Lenore concentrated on just breathing deeply, trying to ignore the feeling of Erik being inside of her. Slowly, as his presence grew more powerful, she felt herself losing control. A few minutes later, she had no control over her body whatsoever; she was just a guest inside of herself, for Erik filled her almost entirely.

She watched through her own eyes as Erik used her hands to deftly find the point of fracture and set it. It was so strange and unnerving to watch her hands do something without her, to do this because of a thought that did not come from her, yet somehow originated in her brain.

As the splint was being placed, Lenore couldn't stand it anymore. She was suffocating, trapped in her own body without control. She began struggling, trying to push Erik out. A quick shot of pain through her consciousness effectively quashed her rebellion. I'm not finished yet, Erik snarled in her mind.

When Erik finally finished tending to the officer, Lenore waited impatiently for him to leave her. C'mon, you're done now. You don't need to hang out here anymore, let me have my body back.

Lenore found herself standing up and turning to face Erik. Let go of me! Moments later, he was using her body to remove the stitches she'd put in. Why won't you leave? I can do this myself, I don't need you to do it for me. I've had plenty of stitches removed in my time, it won't be difficult for me.

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Erik couldn't make himself let go now that he had control. He knew he should, but power was one of Erik's greatest loves and he infrequently experienced it in the cellars of the Opera House (especially when in between owners). So he found another little task to use her for that he could justify; removing his stitches. After he had her finish that task, he left her where she was as he concocted a little remedy to reduce her fever. Knowing that it was rather bitter in taste, Erik added a bit of honey to make the taste almost bearable.

With great resentment, Erik released Lenore from his control. The loss of that power was tremendously painful, but he couldn't keep her like that forever. No, he wanted her to be here, to be herself, not some mechanical follower.

Quick, long strides brought her over to him, and she raised her hand to slap him. Grabbing her wrist, he pressed the cup into her hand. "Drink this, then go straight to bed," he instructed.

"If you didn't wear that mask, I'd slap you with my other hand," she growled. Because, of course, if she tried to slap him with her left hand, she'd only connect with the porcelain mask, which would hurt her more than it would him. Not that he'd even let Lenore's hand connect anyway.

"For once, it seems my face works in my favor," he muttered dryly.

It seemed Lenore was determined to hurt him in some manner, however, because she kicked his left shin. It was actually quite pathetic; there was hardly any strength behind it at all and it caused her to wobble, having issues balancing on a bad leg. She somehow managed not to spill a drop of her medicine, and she thrust the cup back at him the moment she regained her balance. "I'm not drinking this, I don't know what it's for or what it's made from!" Lenore sniffed. "And my mother said never to accept food or drink from strangers."

"It's for the fever you're running, child, and it's made from herbs. As far as listening to your mother's advice…well, I'd have to be a stranger for that to apply, now wouldn't I?" Erik countered.

"I should kick you again." There was a brief pause while she considered it before opting not to. "I'm still not taking it," Lenore persisted, still waiting for him to take the remedy from her hand.

"If you won't take it yourself, I'll pour it down your throat and send you to bed with a spanking like the spoiled little girl you're acting like," Erik threatened.

"You wouldn't dare," Lenore said dismissively.

Erik could remind her that he'd washed her mouth out, but then again…

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Lenore stomped to the bedroom door in a huff. He had poured that nasty concoction down her throat and proceeded to spank her, just as he had said he would. It was not only painful for her backside, but for her pride as well. Receiving a spanking. At her age! Just as she was about to slam the door shut, Erik spoke up from his chair by the fireplace, the scene of the crime as far as she was concerned.

"Stop," he simply said. She complied, trying to hold back the tears caused by her stinging derrière. "Turn around." She did that too, wishing she had the guts to just walk on into the bedroom and ignore him. He gestured for her to come back, and she stomped across the room, not caring if she appeared the least bit sulky. "Now, perhaps you would like to try that again, without stomping like a petulant child this time," Erik suggested, though it was more of a command than anything else.

"No, I would not like to try it again," Lenore informed him, feeling strangely courageous.

"Well, I suppose you don't have to. But I'm afraid I won't tolerate someone tromping around my home in such a fashion without punishment," Erik replied. "Since a spanking seems to do little good, I could always try the Black Snake whip."

Lenore almost told him he wouldn't dare, but she remembered all too well what happened last time she said that. "I've reconsidered," she said reluctantly. "I'd love to try again." She made her way quietly back to the bedroom, shutting the door gently behind her. She climbed into the bed moments later and buried her face in a pillow before screaming her frustration.

It's your own fault. Why couldn't you just take the medicine? What's the worst that could have happened? You ended up drugged? Drugs don't hurt, they just make you sleepy. Anyways, not like he'd drug you. Didn't we establish that he's not some druggist when he took over your body? I mean, it definitely convinced me that he's the Phantom of the Opera. Feel free to have your own opinion, of course, but the evidence is entirely in favor of my decision.

I hate you, she informed the half of her that was pro-Erik.

No you don't, silly. Admit it, you aren't anti-Erik. You're just anti-trust. You expect everyone in the world is out to get you. I'm surprised that you haven't hired someone to test your food for poison yet. You should trust Erik, you know. I mean, I trust him, and look at me. I'm nowhere near as unhappy as you are.

Of course you're not unhappy; you're insane! Trust him? He's kidnapped me, held me against my will, pries into my thoughts and memories, kills innocent people, and took control of my body! And you think I should trust him?

Yes. You failed to mention that he's never been less than a proper gentleman to you, his kisses make you feel like you're in heaven, he stood up to your mom, and he gave you that amazing finger job. Just take me seriously for a moment here. You. Love. Him. You. Want. Him. Simple as that.

No…no, I don't…do I? …I do…oh God, I do. But it's wrong! He's a villain! You're not supposed to fall in love with the villain.

Why not? And anyway, he kinda killed the hero, so it's pointless to wait for a prince in shining armor to come swooping in on a white horse. And did it ever occur to you that heroes are murderers? They kill the bad guy, after all.

So…I love him. What good does that do me? None. What do you want me to do? Go out there and say "Erik, I love you" and hope he says he loves me too?

Well, don't just go out there and blurt it out. Try to use a little tact. Something like "Erik, there's something I need to tell you" or "I need to talk to you about something Erik".

But…go out there…now…and tell him?

Yeah, why not? Be courageous. I mean, the worst that can happen is he says that he hates your guts and would rather give you a long painful death than hear you say those words again, leaving you heartbroken. And I seriously doubt he feels that way.

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Erik had just learned from Officer Vasser that he had slept for two days when the door to the bedroom was flung open.

"Erik…I…I have something to say," Lenore said timidly.

Is she actually going to apologize for her horrendous behavior? That would be a first. "Alright, I'm listening," he assured her.

"Well…you see…I…I…I love you. And if you can't see that, then you're blind. And if you don't feel the same way, then you're just stupid and I hate you," she finally blurted out. She quickly retreated into the bedroom, yanking the door shut behind her.

Erik spent countless minutes just staring at the door in shock. What did she say?...Did she just tell me that…she loves me? No, it wasn't possible. He had to have misheard, or maybe he was still asleep. Women didn't love him. It was a scientific fact that women never fell in love with anyone like himself. But…she just said…and she said it before too. She loves me? There had to be something wrong with his hearing. His mother never loved him, nor had Christine. Hell, that poor girl in Persia wouldn't even lie with him to save her own life. No, he must clear this up immediately. He wouldn't get his hopes up for nothing.

"Please excuse me, Mademoiselle Vasser," Erik muttered, standing and heading for the bedroom.

"Oui," the woman replied with a slight slur, still suffering from the effects of the ether.

The room was dark, of course, for he hadn't lit the candles earlier this morning when he awoke and Lenore had been sent to get rest, so she hadn't bothered with it either. She was lying in bed with her back to the door, probably petrified after making such a confession. If that's really what she said. He approached slowly, making sure not to walk in his normal silent fashion. Just light noises to make sure she suspected he was there.

"Lenore," he began softly when he reached the bedside, "I think you may be…misinterpreting your feelings for me." She moved, as if to roll over and dispute his claim. "Don't speak, just listen for a moment. Perhaps what you feel is a friendly compassion toward me, or perhaps you merely commiserate with me upon the cruelty of society. If it's anything more, it's probably the love you would have for a father or a brother. Christine had daughterly affections toward me, you know, and that's most likely what you feel. You just didn't recognize it for what it was, that's all. It's nothing to be ashamed of, and I'm not upset with you for it."

The silence was deafening. It was torture, to stand there and wait for her reply. Minutes drifted past in this quiet punishment, but if it meant Lenore was truly thinking over what he said, Erik didn't mind suffering the pain.

"Lenore?" Erik inquired softly when he still hadn't received an answer for a good ten minutes or more. He leaned over her…and found she was sound asleep. What kind of woman tells a man she loves him and then just goes to sleep? Erik shook his head; he'd gone and said all that for nothing.

Erik sighed as he brushed stray strands of her lustrous lucks back behind her ear. Now this would linger on and make things awkward for him. Why couldn't she have stayed awake long enough to discuss this properly?

If only you knew how much it pleases me to have you back, my darling. Even if you never marry me, even if we don't become intimate, I need you to be here with me, to share this lonely existence. It's such a comfort to know that there's someone here, someone I can see and hold. But you won't be here forever. You'll grow old and die one day. Would you be willing, I wonder, to suffer immortality with me? It's only forever; that's not long at all. I don't want to lose you.

Je t'aime Lenore.

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"Just so you know, for those of you out there who aren't French-speaking people, Je t'aime means I love you," the authoress explained.

"Erik said he loves me? Woot!" Lenore exploded with joy.

"You're supposed to be asleep," the authoress complained.

"How can I, when you reveal something like that?" Lenore retorted, dancing about in exuberant joy.

"Anyway," the authoress sighed, "just wanted to remind you readers to review, remember you don't have to log in or be a member, cuz I accept anonymous reviews." The authoress then proceeded to knock Lenore unconscious with a frying pan. "I told you, you were supposed to be asleep. If you won't do what I say of your own free will, I have to take matters into my own hands, and then it ends up bloody and/or painful. My silly little heroine..."

Erik came into the room and, finding Lenore unconscious, glared at the authoress suspiciously. "What have you done now, woman?" he hissed dangerously.

"Oh, nothing," the authoress replied with a nervous laugh, hiding the frying pan behind her back. "Don't forget to review, people."