I would like to point out once more that this phic is completely Leroux based. If you have not read this version, you will not understand some of the more crucial points and aspects of this story. Please do not send me 'I don't understand' reviews unless you have read the book and I have simply butchered something. Thanks to all of you who have reviewed and stayed with the story. Things are going to get better soon and everything will work out. I know that things have been on the 'Poor Erik' side lately. But all wounds are healed with time.

I do not own POTO

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 The Persian watched as Erik rowed slowly back across the lake and entered his house. It seemed as though the masked man carried a heavy burden, for his shoulders were slumped and his steps were slow and labored. What was it that he had said? He was going to be a part of Christine Daae's wedding? It was absolutely lunatic! And Erik had not killed him for intruding on his home! This poor man had likely lost every thread of his soul to this girl, and now he was attending her wedding! He needed a reason for this, and he intended to find one.

The Persian exited the Opera House and set out for the Chagny manor, bound and determined to find out what had been exchanged between Christine and Erik. He arrived at the entrance to the house and rapped upon the door. A servant appeared in a matter of a few seconds, asking how he could be of assistance.

"Yes, thank you," the Persian answered. "I have the need to speak to Viscount Raoul de Chagny and Christine Daae immediately."

"Yes, I will relay your message," the servant answered before turning on his heels and shutting the door.

The Persian shifted his weight to one leg. He needed to find out the truth, and this was likely the only way he was going to get it. He did not dare approach the miserable man beneath the Opera House, for he had already tried his patience enough. But the Viscount and Christine could know what had occurred and tell him what he needed to know. Rather Christine could. Actually, the Viscount likely knew nothing of what had happened. He would have to be left out of the conversation somehow; perhaps he would understand that he needed to speak to Christine privately.

His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening to reveal the faces of the Viscount and Christine. They wore expressions of surprise, for they had obviously not been expecting him. Why would they be? They had likely assumed that he would be gone from their lives, just as Erik would be gone from their lives.

"Good evening, sir," the Viscount started, adopting a tone of hospitality. "How can we help you? Please come inside!"

The Persian entered the manor and looked directly at the Viscount, not wanting to waste time with small talk.

"I wish to speak with Christine privately please," he said quickly. "It is of the utmost importance."

The Viscount's eyes glanced over to Christine, then back to the Persian. He knew what the topic of their conversation would be, and he did not have any interest in being a part of it.

"Certainly," the Viscount nodded, gesturing up the staircase. "Would you like to use Christine's room?"

The Persian was momentarily surprised at the young man's willingness to let them speak without him. But he did not question him.

"Any room will do as long as we cannot be overheard," the Persian accepted.

"I will order my servants to stay out of that area and I will remain down here," the young man assured him. "Will you be alright, Christine?"

She nodded, looking up at the boy with a reassuring smile on her face. She started up the stairs and the Persian followed at a distance. The Viscount kept his word and remained at the bottom of the steps, his eyes following them up the stairs.

Christine led him into a room with a bed, a vanity and a wardrobe. The room was brightly lit, and it almost hurt his eyes to go into it. There were glass doors that led out to a balcony and curtains that could cover them if there was need.

"How may I be of assistance, sir?" the young girl spoke, her voice wary, as though she dreaded hearing the answer.

"What has occurred between you and him recently?" he did not avoid the question.

"I do not know what you mean," she tried to deny what had obviously happened.

"Christine," he sighed. "I do not know whether or not you spoke to him this evening. However, he left his house, and when he returned he was in the very worst depression I have ever seen in any human being. Something happened, and I know for a fact that only you could inspire such emotions in him."

A small sob betrayed her.

"What is it?" he immediately questioned. "What happened?"

"I am a fool," she stated simply. "I asked him to do something that will likely kill him. I'm surprised he didn't kill me for asking!"

"Christine!" the Persian exclaimed. "What would you dare ask that would make that man, that man that loves you so much, want to kill you?"

"I was deluded and unfocused," she shook her head, obviously ashamed. "I asked him to give me away at my wedding, because it is obvious that my father cannot. He has been the closest thing to a guardian and I thought it would be fitting. It took a moment to remember that he loved me, and that what I was asking would hurt him."

"Indeed it did," the Persian mumbled under his breath. He thought the girl would never forget that Erik loved her after the drastic measures he had taken to make her his.

"Don't I know it!" she cried out. "You would have thought he had lost his mind if you had seen him! He laughed, and then cried, oh it was awful!"

"You realize that he must love you more than anything to do this for you?" the Persian shook his head. "He would rather be deprived of his talents in music than give you away to the Viscount."

"I do," her expression became confused. "But why? Why does he love me like this? I can't think of any human being that loves me like he does…"

Her voice trailed off and her eyes became distant.

"What did he tell you?" she asked him before he could speak again.

"Hardly anything, only that he would be participating in your wedding," the Persian informed her. "But it was more in the way he behaved. He is usually so…frightening, but he was unable to be that way, though he did try. He told me to leave, as simply as that. He did not even touch me! I was certain to meet my end if I was discovered!"

"What were you doing?" she inquired.

"Nothing of importance," he waved his hand. "But I was quite shocked and thought that he must have spoken to you to suddenly be involved in your wedding."

"So you came here," she concluded. "I cannot believe this! How could I have been so selfish? I can only think of myself! All he can think of is me and my happiness. He truly does love me!"

The Persian was at a loss for what to say, and let her go on. He knew that the man did love her, but was she really just now realizing it?

"Come now," he almost chuckled. "You've known he loved you all along!"

"He told me he loved me," she corrected. "But I never truly believed it until now. He was just so frightening, and I don't mean his face. How could someone so frightening have the potential to love? Obsession was a possibility, or that he simply adored my voice, but love? Never! But now I know, and I don't know how I could have doubted it!"

"What will you do now, Christine?" he looked at her curiously.

"What can I do?" she threw her hands up in a gesture of hopelessness. "I believe I have put myself in quite a predicament. I don't know how to get myself out of this!"

"I don't know what to say," the Persian rubbed the back of his neck. "But he is quite upset."

Yes, Erik was quite upset. He could not bring himself to do anything of productiveness. He had entered his home, gone into the Louis Philippe bedroom, sat in a chair and hadn't moved since. He stared at the dress and gloves that Christine would never wear and tried to remember why he had thought for even a second that she could ever love a person such as him. If you could call him a person. He hardly breathed, taking only the amount of oxygen that he needed. Breathing had become painful, as had everything. He was in Hell. No, Hell could not compare to this. His thoughts roamed to places they had never been before. Why did he love at all? No one had ever loved him. Perhaps he did not know any better. Perhaps it was just human nature for people to want things that they can never have.

Still, he loved her and he had no reason. Love was something that Erik couldn't explain. Did he even want to? He didn't want to dwell on such things. He was used to being in control of everything, but lately nothing had been in control. Love had driven him insane, or at least more so. He did not doubt that he loved her, for nothing could have this effect on him. He wanted nothing more than for Christine to love him, and he had no idea why!

In this state, Erik fell into a fitful sleep, unable to do anything else.

At the Chagny manor, Christine sat alone in her room. Raoul had come in as soon as the Persian had left, but she had asked to be alone for the rest of the night. She was very distracted, and did not want to fight to concentrate on any one topic. She was confused by all that had occurred that night. How could so much happen in just one night? It was too much to take in. One moment something would seem to make sense, and then something would happen to change that! But the thing that confused her the most was the thing that should have been the most plain and simple.

Erik loved her.

This made no sense! She had done nothing to cause him to love her and yet he did. She did not deserve the love of a genius; she was a common girl from the Opera, she had nothing but the ability to sing. She didn't even have a father! She had Mama Valerius, but other than that, she had no wealth or anything to make her deserve such love from such a brilliant man. He had claimed to love her, but actions do indeed speak louder than words, and his action had spoken the loudest of all!

She was likely the luckiest woman alive, and she had cast aside the only thing that would give her that title; Erik. She felt a pit forming in her stomach and desperately tried to shove it away. There was no turning back now. She had made her choice. After all, she loved Raoul! But then again, did she really love him? If what Erik felt toward her was love, then she clearly did not love Raoul! She felt a strong emotional attachment to him, no doubt. But was it love? Was she about to marry a man with whom she was not in love? Her father would surely have approved of Raoul. Was that the only reason she thought she loved Raoul? Was he just an earthly reminder of her father, and she had stayed with him so as not to be out of her area of comfort? She was comforted by the knowledge that her father had liked Raoul, and the memories of their childhoods spent together were what made her think that she loved him. Oh! She did not know what love was! It seemed to be a torture method, designed to destroy people! Or perhaps it was a sign that you were attempting to love the person you were not meant to be with?

It was all too confusing for Christine, and she decided that a good night's sleep would help her organize her thoughts. It was probable that she would not acquire any amount of quality rest at all, but it was better than trying to sort it out at the present. Resolved to go to bed either way, Christine put on her nightclothes, turned off the gas lamp and closed her eyes, hoping tomorrow would be a better day.

Erik still sat in the chair in the Louis Philippe bedroom. He was awake now, finding sleep pointless. And he still stared at the dress and gloves. He did not deserve Christine. Falling in love had been a punishment for all his crimes, and what a punishment it had been! He would fall in love with the most perfect of creatures, and he had actually been surprised when she did not return his love. He was determined to have what he wanted, and he had fought to win her over. But the battle had been lost and the war was over. The Viscount had won, and he had never really been in the fight at all! It had been a war with himself and his love, and he had lost. Perhaps all of his existence had not been worth the effort.

Erik comforted himself with the thought that he would have no binds to hold him to the earth as soon as he handed Christine over to the Viscount. Christine would be happy, and he satisfied himself with the knowledge that his last earthly act would be for the woman he loved. He would give her the gift she had always wanted from him; freedom. He would release her as one releases a caged bird, and he, too, would be released and free. Erik smiled to himself, despite the pain that coursed through his limbs and body. He had truly experienced everything in life! Good and bad, his life was complete, and after the wedding, there would be no point in prolonging his stay on the earth.

Erik only thought of how happy he would be making Christine. Surely that would sustain him until he had to free her at last.

Thank you all for reading and reviewing. Things are about to pick up the pace, so hold your horses for a little while longer!

-H.E.