Paula, thanks for the review! In a way, I suppose something has definitely cracked inside Lily... We will see.

Sorry for the long gap, me being lazy, blah, blah and blah.

Erik lay in the bed that Cynthia's family had kindly lent him. Looking up at the ceiling as the first few rays of sunlight cracked through the window. That vicious storm that threatened the lands and brought a wicked breeze, had finally passed. Although, admittedly, he was still a fan of the rain.

There came a timid knock at the door, a woman of small stature slid in. She was wearing a maids uniform, her bonnet low over her face. Leaning on the door to keep it open, she balanced a bowl of water oh her hip and held a clump of paper in the other. There was something familiar about her...

Nonetheless, he let her go about her business; placing the bowl of water down on the table, then the paper on the side of his desk. She closed the door behind her almost silently, disappearing through it with the grace of an alley cat.

When he found enough will power to get up, he shuffled over to the bowl of water, slid off his mask and dunked his head into it. The water was cold and refreshing, it knocked him into conciousness as he made his way over to the desk to enquire about the papers.

With a sigh, he flopped onto his bed again, unravelling the string that kept the papers rolled up. It was a newspaper. Gently, he unfolded it and took a read.

At first, it struck his heart a little. The shock of seeing that face, that beautiful, angelic face that made his heart leap and caused him many sleepless nights, brought with it terrible memories. Not to mention make him think those dark, sultry thoughts that one must only think of when alone.

But then the feeling numbed a little. So, he read on. He couldn't quite believe what he was reading, the scandal about the Vicomte's gambling debts, Christine struggling with his drinking problem and his arrogance. It made his blood boil slightly that he had lost to a man like that.

Then his heart stopped. Christine Daee, rather Christine De Chagney was coming to the Opera house in London to perform! As organised by the recently deceased Nadir Khan... that snake.

There would only be one reason he would invite her here, for him. But he didn't want her and Nadir knew that, so why would he invite her? To break Cynthia's heart? But she knew nothing of his past, unless he was planning to tell her.

All of these thoughts were running through his mind at a thousand miles per hour and his heart was struggling to keep up with the emotions that brewed inside him. He almost squealed when a second knock came at the door.

"Erik, Erik darling?" It was Cynthia, his loving, adoring Cynthia. She knocked once again, not hearing him.

"Y-yes, come in." He folded the paper and placed it on the bed, sitting up and slipping on his mask as she opened the door. Alas, there was something very different about her.

There was something strange, out of place with her appearance, no her demeanor. As she walked over to him, she seemed almost angry, but trying to suppress it. Her shoulders were square, hunched a little and tight.

"What's wrong?" He asked as he knocked the papers to the side and lead her to his bed. She sat and heard the rustle of the papers behind her.

"More importantly, what have you been reading?" She asked, snappily as she ground her teeth together.

"Nothing, just the newspaper that the maid brought me." Cautiously placing a hand on her shoulder, he asked, "Why, what does it matter?" But she shrugged his hand away.

"Have you heard the news, that French Opera singing Christy Day is-" Erik couldn't help, but just on pure impulse, he had to correct her.

"Christine Daee." He found himself saying it a little louder than he perhaps should, he had to clasp his hand over his mouth and watch as her chest grew a little tight and she scoffed.

"Yes, well she is performing at the Opera house tomorrow night." She stated in a matter-of-a-fact sort of way.

"I have heard rumours... what of it?" He asked, feeling as if he should tread cautiously around this topic.

"I've heard that she is very beautiful... in fact, i've heard allot about her and her... story." Erik's heart stopped and his palms grew a little sweaty. "I heard that she was visited by an angel and that she herself is like an angel and beautiful over all compare." At the end, she gave a little chuckle. "What do you think?"

Erik had his mouth slack for a little while, unsure of what to say. "Cat got your tounge?" She teased.

"I-I-I don't know what she looks like." He stuttered, but Cynthia laughed.

"She's on the front cover of that newspaper, take a look. Tell me, is she really as beautiful as they all say?" Nervously, he glanced over to the paper, but couldn't find the confidence to move. "Well, go on then."

He picked it up from the floor and looked at the paper. She was indeed very beautiful, but she wasn't what he wanted. "Is she? Tell me? Is she beautiful beyond compare?"

"She's not as beautiful as you-" As he went to kiss her cheek, she pulled away from him.

"That's not what I asked you." Snatching the paper off him, she scoffed. "Describe her to me." Erik felt a little flustered, as if he was being interrogated. In fact, he was being interrogated.

"She has brown hair, light blue eyes, pale skin... and..." Cynthia turned her head towards him sharply.

"And, her body?" She urged him to continue. He did.

"Small, thin and with womanly curves, why?" Cynthia stood, throwing the paper onto his lap and storming over to the door.

"You can only see her face in that picture." She snapped as she opened the door with an angry swing. "And we have no maids in this household." Dropping a crisp, white bonnet onto the floor, she slammed the door furiously and Erik sat, his heart thundering in his chest. He was in trouble.

Deep trouble.

It's all kicking off.

Reviews really help, so please I urge you to do so.