A/N: So in the last chapter I am sure some of you probably noticed I used the song No one Would Listen. This song was cut from the original format of the 2004 movie. I enjoyed the song though it didn't really fit in with the rest of the movie so decided to add it in here. Disclaimer, not my lyrics, all that jazz, yadda, yadda it belongs to someone other then me.

I heard rumor the song was originally intended for the musical on stage but didn't make the cut and so Webber wanted to through it in the movie, apparently it didn't make the cut there either. I hope you are enjoying the story so far, I have many other stories I am still working on but it is hard to find inspiration. So for now here is chapter four, enjoy!

P.s. the song that Erik sings to Christine in here is by Nina Simone, it is called Ne me Quitte ( Don't leave me) performed in 1985 I think or something like that. I am not a song writer or lyricist. So any songs I put into this story will be from other artists but I will give credit were credit is due. The song was really long so I cut one of the verses. I will try to use older songs, personally I hate today's current music scene and prefer things between the years of 1920 and 1995. If you can think of any good songs and want me to try and fit it in here let me know, if I like the song I may find a place for it.

Chapter Four

One Week

Christine had tried to stay awake for the return of her tea but found her eyes growing heavy. Moments later she had been asleep. She was roused by the sound of her door opening and she managed to open her eyes to see a very worried looking Madame Giry gazing at her.

"Oh dear, you have a fever. I thought perhaps luck had been with you and the storm did not make you sick. You seemed much more aware last I saw you. Do not move."

Christine couldn't have if she tried, she coughed, sneezed, her body ached, and her head felt like a theatrical backdrop was being smashed into it. She could only moan weakly and fight to keep her eyes open. She heard murmurs but any coherent sentences merged into a superficial language she could not understand. Once again her eyes slid shut and darkness took her.

Madame Giry's expression had gone passed worry, she was now on the facial expression of dread, "Meg, please go tell Erik to come up here."

Madame Giry returned to Christine's side once meg had disappeared and dabbed the wet cloth across the girl's forehead. When Erik finally came to the doorway he seemed to hesitate before he entered.

"Erik, I must go with Meg into Paris to find the items that are required to help her. She is starved; heart broken, and now she had become ill with fever. If I do not get the herbs I need she will die."

Erik reached into his vest and pulled from it a large leather bag. "Take as much as you need, get everything she will require to get better. I suggest a robe of some kind as well, should she need to get out of bed she must be kept warm."

Madame Giry nodded and took the bag, she paused a moment and then looked to the Christine before she slowly glanced back to Erik. "If I could I would stay and look after the girl myself, but Meg will need help finding the herbs I am looking for. Erik, I need you to keep an eye on her."

The masked man's head snapped up to look at her, "You think I would leave her like this?"

"I know not what you would do anymore Erik. You have become intermittent. We won't be gone long. Keep trying to get her to drink, she is as stubborn in her sleep as she is awake."

Erik gave one stiff nod and Madame Giry swept passed him, Meg waited a moment and then looked to Erik, "I don't know if it will help, but when a girl was sick in the ballet we would speak to them, sing songs, tell them stories. Sometimes just hearing a soothing voice can help chase away a fever."

"Why tell me this?" Erik snapped for no reason.

"Who would have a more soothing voice then the Angel of Music." Meg gave a small smile before she hurried off after her mother. Erik watched her go before he shut the door and moved slowly to Christine's side.

She looked much worse then she did yesterday. Erik had studied medicine for a few years when he was younger. But the subject had bored him. The only real reason his interest had been peaked was because he had been curious if there was anything that could be done about his face. He had been met with disappointment. There was no operation that didn't have none fatal solutions. Most of the testing that had been done had proven to be terminal.

But all that study did little good for him now, he may know every part of the human body, but applying that to a sickly girl was pointless. All he could do was what Madame Giry had suggested. Try to get her to drink some liquids and then keep her warm and comfortable.

He could try singing to her again but nothing came to mind that she might find comforting. Erik patted her head with the damp cloth and then picked up the teacup filled with warm tea. He placed his hand under her head and lifted it up a little. She brought the tea to her lips and tried to get her to drink, but she lay limp in his hands.

Erik sighed and spoke softly, "Christine… Christine you must wake for me now. Christine you must drink." Her eyes barely opened but he tried again anyway. Still she would not drink. Erik felt his frustration growing. Meg's words echoed in his mind, "Who would have a more soothing voice then the Angel of Music?"

Erik set down the tea and positioned himself so that Christine would lie against him. He propped her up against his chest and then once again took up the tea, he cleared his throat and sang the first words that came to his mind.

You have to forget
Everything can be forgotten
That is flying away already
Forget the time
The misunderstandings
And the time that was lost
Trying to understand how
These hours can be forgotten
Those that are killing sometimes
With whys that hurt like punches
The heart of happiness

I will offer you
Pearls made of rain
Coming from countries
Where it never storms
I will work the earth
Until I die
To cover your body
With gold and light
I will create a kingdom for you
Where love will be the king
Where love will be the law
Where you will be the queen

I will invent for you
Meaningless words
That you will understand
I will speak to you
Of these lovers
That we've seen twice
Their hearts embracing each other
I will tell you
The story of this king
Who died of not being able
To get to hold you

I won't cry anymore
I won't speak anymore
I will hide right there
To see you
Dancing and smiling
And to listen to you
Sing and then laugh
Let me become
The shadow of your shadow
The shadow of you hand
The shadow of your heart

Erik couldn't help but smile when Christine's lips parted and she drank some of the warm tea. A very light shade of pink came to her cheeks and Erik felt relief, his rose was slowly coming back to life. He sang the song again softly and soon she had managed to drink all the tea.

She moaned a moment and then gave a sigh as she passed back into sleep. Erik removed her from his lap and extricated himself from the bed. He wished he could lay with her but the chance of her waking to him next to her could cause a shock that Christine could not afford to have right now.

Erik had thought that having her so close would make things difficult for him, though he felt the pain of his love having to be restrained he did not suffer the tension or excruciating desire he used to. Perhaps he truly was moving on from her?

He would always love her… but did he still want her? Erik grumbled and pushed it from his mind, he didn't have time for such simple thoughts. He walked to the large drafting desk in the corner and stared at the paper, he tried his hardest to focus but soon his mind drifted back to Christine and his eyes slowly swept back to her.

She lie there silent and almost peaceful looking, "You shall truly be the death of me." He said softly as he turned away and forced himself to write something, anything, as long as his mind was away from her.

Meg followed her mother quickly down the street, it had taken three hours to get all the things they needed and now they were moving as quickly as they could back to the carriage. The driver had made it clear that he was to stay with Christine until she said otherwise. So they had told the driver of Christine's indisposed state and he had been all too happy to offer them a ride.

The driver had been put up in a small lodge about four blocks from the area that their house resided. He walked to it every night and returned every morning. He had made things a great deal easier on the ladies today. With out him their trip would have taken an extra two hours.

Once they reentered the carriage they were off at a quick pace, "Mother…" Meg started once the carriage was in motion, "What will you do should Christine not wish to return to Raoul?"

The woman looked up from her bags of goods and gave her daughter a curious glance, "Has she said something to you that would make you wonder such a thing?"

Meg hesitated and then took a slow deep breath, "She informed me that she has no intentions of going back. I do not know if this is a serious accusation but, mother, she seemed very serious."

"I will have to confront her when she is better. This is a serious matter. What will become of her if she leaves him for good? No other man would have a woman who was already married, especially if she had no money."

"But mother, what about Erik? Do you think perhaps Christine would consider…"

"Do not assume that things will change between them just because her marriage to Raoul did not thrive. Christine has made her stance on Erik clear, she will never be with him because of his lust and desire for blood."

"But Erik has put that behind him, and with Christine by his side he would never feel the need to kill again."

"I have considered that but even so, Christine was raised with certain values that unlike you and I she cannot ignore. In her mind Erik is the right hand of the devil. We cannot change her mind."

Meg did not try and rebuke her mother's comments; instead she kept the rest of her thoughts to herself. Christine had once informed Meg that she wished the Angel of Music would take her away.

Once Christine had found out that her Angel was nothing more then a man, she had lost a little faith. But what made Erik so different from an Angel? He had removed Christine's sadness; he had given her a reason to sing again. He had taken her under his wing and given ever everything she had ever asked for. So why did it matter that Erik was not a holy Angel sent from heaven?

Perhaps Christine's fear had indeed gotten the better of her but then why had she returned. Christine had said she was willing to take the chance of having to face Erik again if it meant escaping the inner torments she had come to face with Raoul, but then it almost sounded like Christine had hoped Erik would confront her.

Something was not adding up and Meg planned to figure out exactly what the missing piece of this puzzle was. Everyone but Erik knew that Christine had lost a child, Meg's mother had not been aware of Christine's intentions of not returning to her husband until now. Meg had known just about everything that had happened except why the death of Christine's child had haunted her so.

It was true that the loss of a child was frequent but Meg knew that any sane loving mother would mourn. A lengthy period of mourning was expected, but two years? There had to be something more to it then just the loss of her child that had driven Christine to such extreme measures. Leaving Raoul and then returning to Paris despite the fact that Erik could still be around, surely Christine had known he would hunt her down the instant he knew she had come back.

Meg's thoughts were interrupted when the carriage pulled up outside the house, "Quickly Meg grab a bag and come into the house." The two women hurried and soon they were in the kitchen boiling some herbs and chicken meat.

Erik had come down stairs at their arrival and had told them he had managed to get Christine to drink her tea, how he had managed they didn't ask. It took another few minutes for the thick broth to finish cooking and then Madame Giry ladled it into a small bowl.

"Erik will you?" She asked handing him the bowl, "You've seemed to have had more luck with her stubborn mouth then I."

Erik reluctantly nodded and took the bowl and then ascended the stairs. Madame Giry started to make more of her strange brother while Meg went to picking up around the house.

"Do you suppose the McBride's are still living out in the country by your grandparents house?" Meg asked.

"Who can say? It has been years since we have been. I would not be surprised if they moved."

"They owned a lot of the land, perhaps they are still making wine?"

"Let us hope if they are there they will not try and interfere."

"Oh but mother, they threw the grandest parties! And their son Liam is rather dashing." Meg said imagining the dark haired boy that used to chase her around the big tree behind the house.

Madame Giry actually gave a small smile and said, "I remember them well, my father, before he died said that there was never a party like the ones the McBride's threw. And the best part was that because all the people that came were mostly from the country nothing of their drunken mishaps ever made it back to Paris."

"It was like a gala right out in the country?"

"Indeed it was, dancing, jokes, music, though their music left something to be desired. They are Irish after all and most of their music was hard to dance to."

"I recall I fell once trying to learn the dances they showed us."

"You were not very old when I took you to those parties. And once Christine came to the Opera we stopped going. Her father would turn over in his grave if I had taken her."

Meg giggled a little leaned her head to rest on her mother's shoulder, "I wish we could have another party like that."

"Me too child."

Erik cleared his throat and the two women glanced towards him, "Lost in memories are we?" he asked.

Madame Giry straightened up and adjusted her stance, "Merely dwelling on the memories of people we once knew."

"I would much wish for you to see one of the McBride's parties Erik. You might have liked the music." Meg said retrieving the bowl from his hands.

"My word, you got her to eat the entire bowl?" Meg asked peering into the empty container in her hands, "How did you manage that?"

Erik smirked, "I can be quite persuasive if need me."

"You sang to her didn't you!" Meg said with a knowing smile.

Erik eyed her carefully and then sighed, "If you force her mouth open and rub your hand down the front of her throat it acts like an artificial swallowing motion. It went down quickly and efficiently and that is all that matters." He turned and walked from the room.

Meg leaned towards her mother and whispered in a mischievous voice, "He sang to her!"

A/n: Next chapter will be up soon, but first I have to post the chapter in another story of mine! R&R