Joshua paced back and forth on the almost empty street, waiting for someone to come out of the house.

And sure enough, soon Christine came out, scowling at him. "I told you to leave. Don't make me call the police."

"I just want to know how she's doing!" Josh said hastily.

Christine's expression didn't soften. "The doctor's with her. She hasn't woken up yet."

Josh swore quietly.

The two of them stared at each other in silence for a time. Finally, Josh ventured, "Amme will be fine, though, won't she?"

Christine sighed, and worry broke through her irate mask. "No one's sure. She could be better by tomorrow, or she could be dead in a few hours. I don't know." Anger colored her beautiful features again. "This is your fault, you know."

"My fault!" Josh yipped. "How is this my fault?"
"She trusted you, and you got Catherine Roy pregnant. Or are you going to say that poor girl lied to me?"

He fumed, which Christine took as a confirmation.

"You did get her pregnant!"

"It was a one time thing!" Joshua snapped, but suddenly, his face brightened. "You said she trusted me, didn't you?"

"I believe I did." She answered coldly. "Why do you ask?"

"Do you think she loves me, too?"

Christine's mouth could have caught flies at that moment. "What? You…you…you betrayed her, and you're asking if…if she loves you?" She pulled herself up to her full height. "If she did, I would be very much surprised if she still does now. Now, get out!"

Joshua scampered. He was in a very good mood.

Christine turned and stalked back inside, muttering to herself. Joshua had, however, pointed out something that Christine couldn't get off her mind. Amme had fainted after hearing Joshua had gotten another woman pregnant. Did that mean she loved Joshua?

She remembered Amme's last moment awake. Her singing had started out fairly weak, and only proceeded to worsen. Then, when her legs gave way, the entire theatre gasped loudly, and Christine could have sworn she heard a cry from box five. Josh had ran onstage, and picked up Amme, but Christine bullied him into letting Raoul carry her outside—Raoul had needed a little persuading, too. They took her to their house, and found a spare room for her. Meg had run for the doctor, and that brought Christine back to the present moment.

She stepped silently into Amme's room. Amme herself was lying on the bed, long hair spread across the pillow, her mouth opening and closing as if she spoke, though no sound came out.

"How is she?" Christine asked the doctor.

He sighed heavily. "Well, her heartbeat is going far too quickly, and it just won't calm down. She was screaming a little when you were outside, but those died down quickly."

"Will she be alright, though?"

He hesitated. "She should be awake right now. The fall didn't hurt her. Physically, she should be perfectly fine. The only thing wrong with her is her racing heart."

"But will she be fine?" Christine repeated. "Should we keep her here, or move her to the hospital?"

And again, he hesitated. "Well…it doesn't matter. There's nothing I can do for her here or there."

Christine felt cold. "Explain, please."
"She's dying. I'd say she has two more days to live."

-

When Amme started singing, Meg had been anxious. When Amme had collapsed, Meg had been scared. When Christine told her, very glumly, that Amme was dying, Meg was terrified. But she was also very upset and angry. Amme was a strong person! She couldn't just suddenly die like that! It simply didn't happen!

There had to be a reason why, and Meg had arrived at it fairly quickly. Amme had not been the same since the Phantom had left her, and Meg was certain that had something to do with her being suddenly on her deathbed.

Meg strolled surely back to the opera house, and went straight into Amme's dressing room. It had used to be Christine's dressing room, and Meg had found, during her time as the lead singer, a way in there to the Phantom's lair. She had led a mob down it once; she never expected to use it again.

It didn't take long before she found herself face to face with the Phantom of the Opera.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He snarled. He looked rather disappointed, like he had been hoping for someone else.

"I need to talk to you about Amme," Meg said boldly.

He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, tapping his fingers impatiently. "Well?"

Some of Meg's confidence was disappearing. "Um…you know Amme fainted onstage, right?"

"I was there," he said coldly. "I say her."

"Well." Now Meg was a little frightened. "I think it's your fault."

He didn't answer—just continued to tap his fingers against his upper arm.

"Amme was fine before…before you two split up. And…and that Pearl—I know she's being mean to Amme. But you didn't stop her, so it's your fault that Amme's dying…."

"She's WHAT?!" The Phantom screamed. He broke his stiff posture, and grabbed Meg tightly on the arm. "You didn't…she's…say…you…dying…AMME!"

"It's your fault," she repeated stubbornly.

"It can't be!" He wailed. "I love her! I would never hurt her!"

"But you did. And look what happened because of it."

He fell to the ground, and covered his face with shaking hands. Meg couldn't quite make out what he was saying.

"I thought you should know," she said finally. "Just so you know what you did."

"But why?" He asked, looking up at her in anguish. "She's never cared for…me…." His voice broke on the last word. "She doesn't love me."

"I don't know who Amme does or does not love, but I still think she at least liked you enough to be hurt seeing you and Pearl together."

He flinched at Pearl's name.

"So, that's all." Meg turned around, and started to leave.

"Wait." He grabbed her arm again. "I want to see her."

"I don't…"

"I." The Phantom said fiercely. "Want. To. See. Her. I need to see her!"

Meg sighed. "Come with me, then."

-

Everything was dark. I couldn't remember anything. Who was I? Why was I here? Where was here? Nothing made sense to me. Words weaving in and out of my mind were in no logical order, no rhyme or reason could be made of them. I tried screaming some, just to see if that would help, but the words meant nothing to me. Want, need, hurt, hurting, music, mind, heart, hatred, ghost, death…why was I thinking them?

I fell into silence again, focusing on one word in particular. I couldn't help it, but my mind kept coming back to music. Why that word? The more I thought of it, the more I knew it was important. I mouthed it over and over to myself, trying to make sense of it, but nothing worked.

Unbidden, I thought I heard a few strands of music playing in my mind. It was a man singing, and he was singing to me. The song was happy…loving, even.

I didn't know how, but I knew I had actually heard this man's voice before, and not just here in the darkness. Because this man with the beautiful voice wasn't here in the darkness—I was completely alone.

-

"I do not want that man in my house!" Raoul hissed to Meg the second he had cornered her.

"Oh, hush. He's not going to bother anyone. He just wants to see Amme."

"Amme should be allowed to live her last moments as happy as we can make her. And that does not include a madman."

"She's not going to even know he's here," Meg said reasonably. "So I don't think he can affect her happiness any more than he already has."

"And what, pray tell, do you mean by that?"
Meg looked left and right before saying, "I think it's the Phantom's fault Amme's dying."

Raoul snorted. "Wouldn't be the first person he's killed. But Christine told me only thirty minutes ago that it's Joshua Eddison's fault Amme's dying."

"Eddison?" Meg had not considered that. But she quickly dismissed that thought. "No, Amme can't love him: his ears stick out too much."

"If we are basing Amme's feelings on appearances, I think Eddison has the Phantom beat by a long shot."

"You think," She agreed. "But you're not a girl, so you wouldn't understand these things. Now, if you don't mind, I need to set things straight with Christine."

"Is this really a good time?" Raoul asked. "Amme Eledhwen's dying, and you're going to argue over who she's in love with?"

Meg tossed her blond hair over her shoulder, and ignored him.

-

Erik had refused to believe Amme was dying until he finally saw her. And even when he saw her, he refused to give up hope that there would be some way to save her.

"You're sure there's nothing you can do?" He asked the doctor for the hundredth time.

The doctor glared at him. He had taken an instant disliking to Erik—maybe it had something to do with him not wanting a known killer bending over his patient. "As I've told you, I'd have a much better chance of doing something if I knew what was wrong with her!"

"Why don't you find out?" Erik snapped.

"Because there isn't anything wrong with her!"

"Aside from her dying!"

"Exactly!" The doctor retorted.

Erik fumed until he turned back to Amme. Then his face softened. "Amme, I'm so sorry…."

"Don't be so greedy to take all the credit. I doubt you had enough power over this girl to make her want to stop living."
He glared at the smaller man. "Maybe I wouldn't take 'all the credit' if I knew why she was dying!"

"You don't know because I don't know because she shouldn't be dying!"

"But she is!"

"Exactly!"

The two men glowered at each other.

Amme then began to thrash, waving her arms and legs around and nearly kicking the Phantom off the bed.

"Amme…" he reached out to touch her before being thrust aside.

"She's my patient! I can take care of her."

Erik automatically began to reach for his lasso before remembering that killing the doctor probably wouldn't be the wisest idea.

"What's going on?" He asked, when Amme's frantic voice began filing the room.

"I think she's hallucinating."

She screamed again; Erik caught the word "Singing."

"'Singing?'"

"Pardon?"

"That's what she said. 'Singing.'"

"I told you, she's hallucinating." The doctor bent down to listen. "Hmm…who's 'Emily?'"

Erik felt cold all over at the mention of Amme's dead sister. "Emily…."

-

The man's singing brought memories. Pleasant memories, like my time with my friends, Fate, Starlight. Some times I spent with a tall, blond man, and other times with a dark, masked man, who was the one singing to me. Singing to me? Masked man…

It was as if a light flashed inside my mind. Everything went from pitch black to blinding white. Dazzling white. Masked man—the Phantom! Erik! I could feel myself crying, reaching out as if I could touch him. It was impossible, though. I was as much alone in the white as I was in the black. The color made no difference, I still couldn't see.

But was I alone? I felt suddenly that someone was with me. The light dimmed enough for me to make out bouncy yellow curls and serious, but happy violet eyes.

"Sister," Emily smiled. "I've missed you."