Hey everyone, thanks for the reviews. I own nothing.

"So now I sit

And try to think

Just what life means to me

Both what life is

And what I hope

The future years will be" - Excerption straight from the diary of Christine Daae

Christine's POV

It's a wonder how much darkness can fill one soul. For weeks I laid there on my journey to Coney Island, thinking about Erik. If anything boggled my mind, it was what I could possibly say to him in order to gain his forgiveness. But no matter how hard I tried, I knew nothing in the world would be enough to erase that horrible sentence from his mind. I knew if I were him, I wouldn't forgive me either. What if when I arrived, he wouldn't let me stay with him? What if he didn't want to see me at all? Was it possible for my trip to be a total waste?

I suffered from motion sickness right up until the night we finally docked in Ellis Island. When I heard the whistle of the ship go off, I grabbed my one bag of belongings, and threw on my cloak. The night was cool, and I couldn't see a thing except for the light coming from the window of the custom department. I was forced to stand there in the night fog with a thousand other people, waiting to be examined and carded. After going through a full examination by a doctor, I was sent to another line where I had to wait some more. I had already spent at least five hours in the custom department, and I was more than ready to leave. When it was finally my turn to approach the desk, the man sitting behind it looked up at me and asked what my name was.

"Christine Daae." I said, wishing the man would smile or show some sort of kindness. But he didn't, he only wrote my name into a book, and stamped it.

"Excuse me, I'm here to visit a friend. I was hoping you knew where I could find him?"

"I'm not the lost and found, lady." he snarled. "My job is to write your name into this guest list, not to find your family."

"Well, you must have everyone's name in that book. He came from Paris, his name is Erik."

The man slammed the leather book shut, and looked up at me.

"Madame, I don't believe you understood me. I am not here to help you find your family."

"Could you please just look up his name for me. His name is Erik."

"Erik what?"

I didn't know his last name. Erik never told what his surname was.

"I…I don't know his surname."

"Well let's see." the man taunted me by opening his book back up and flipping through to the E section of it. "You have your choice of eighty five Erik's that live within Coney Island. Pick your choice."

"I will not be treated like this." I gasped, and walked off into the night.

I had no place to go, and no place to look. Searching for Erik was going to be like searching for a needle in a haystack. Where would Erik go? Where in Coney Island would he go? I was scared, and had no place to stay. I wandered the streets, until I heard a beautiful chiming from a clock tower. I followed the glorious music as it chimed in the hour of three a.m. I crossed the street, and saw the tall clock tower singing from behind a giant locked gate. I placed my hand around the bars, and looked inside. There were tall beautiful buildings, a Ferris wheel along with a few other attractions. The place seemed marvelous, and I wanted to explore it even more. The whole place was in darkness, except for a dim candle that was burning in the window of a flat high above this place. It was late, who on earth would be up at such a late hour?

"Best stay away from these parts at night." I heard a voice, and turned around to see an older man passing by me. He wasn't from around here, this I knew from the thick Irish accent he held.

"I'm looking for my friend. Perhaps you know him."

"You sure as hell won't find him around here. Only the freaks live in these parts."

"Freaks?"

"Yes, Mister E and his band of freaks. He's made that damn park a refugee camp for em. If I were you, I'd stay away from there at night."

And just like that, the man walked off. If Erik was going to be anywhere, it was going to be here. Erik might not have been a freak, but I knew him well enough to know he would stay away from human beings. I threw my bag over the gate, and slipped through to the other side. I walked around the deserted park, looking for any signs of Erik. But when I grew tired, I sought shelter up against a concession stand and closed my eyes. I must have been extremely tired, for when I awoke, there were crowds and crowds of people passing by. I stretched, and stood to my feet. The sun was shining bright, and the air was still cool. I pushed past the crowd, and tried to search for Erik. Everything about this place was so wonderful. There were freaks performing on every corner, wonderful music traveling through the air. Everything was perfect.

When I couldn't spot Erik anywhere, I began approaching people to ask them if they have seen him.

"I'm looking for a man named Erik. Have you seen him? White mask, tall, extremely thin?"

I asked every person I passed, but they only looked at me as if I had snakes crawling around my head. I searched for hours, never getting any closer to finding Erik. Perhaps he wasn't here after all. Perhaps he was in another part of Coney Island. After hours of searching, I sat down on a bench that was facing the ocean. Was I going to have to spend another night wandering the streets alone? I was getting extremely hungry, and my stomach wouldn't stop growling. I had no money to buy any food, and so I was going to have to limit myself to stealing it. Across the way, there was a place called "Nathan's Hotdogs." I wasn't sure what a hotdog was, but it sure smelled delicious. I pulled the hood of my cloak back over my head, and headed to where the salty yet wonderful smell was coming from. I stepped inside the shop, a large man serving the so called hotdogs to a crowd of paying customers. There was no way I was going to be able to reach over the counter to steal my meal, so I was going to have to steal it from someone who already paid.

At a table not too far away, there was a man who had set his hotdog down, but rose to approach the counter. This was my chance. I quickly made my way to the table, and snatched the strange looking food up into my hand. I heard the man shouting at me, but I didn't stop. I ran out of Nathan's and passed the crowds on the boardwalk. But why hadn't the screams stopped? Why was I still being told to stop? I didn't. I ran as the sun went away and the rain began to pour. I ran as fast as I could as everyone in my way headed for shelter under nearby concession stands. The rain was hitting stinging my face like the sting of a thousand bees. I almost slipped from the soaked boardwalk, losing my hotdog in the process. All my hard work for nothing! I would have stopped running, but I was still being chased.

"Stop! Stop her!" I heard the angry calls from behind me and kept running even though I couldn't see a thing in front of my face. And then, out of nowhere, two boney hands grabbed me from the front. His monstrous strength lifted me slightly in the air, and I kicked and screamed to be let go of. Soon, the two men from Nathan's that had been chasing me were right there in front of the person who was holding onto my body.

"Ah, boss, just the man we wanted to see." replied the man.

"What seems to be the problem?" came the soft voice from the man who was holding me. Wait, I knew that voice!

"She stole a hotdog from one of our patrons."

"I'll deal with her. Thank you, Nathan."

I dared to glance up at the man who had me in his grasp, only to see that it was Erik! It was him! He was soaking wet, but the white of his mask glowed within the damp fog and rain.

"How dare you steal from me you little street rat!" he shook me violently, his hands clenching tighter around my shoulders. "No one steals from Mister E! No one!"

It was then that he threw back the soaked hood of my cloak, only to gasp at the mere sight of me. Those mismatched shade of blue eyes looking down at me as if he were looking down at a ghost.

"Ch…Christine?"

I was speechless, he knew my name. He still remembered me after all these years. It had been so long since I last heard his voice or smelled his musty cologne.

"Erik." were the only words that escaped my lips. They flowed from my mouth like warm honey, and caused Erik to sigh.

"Wh..What are you doing here? You should be in Paris." it pained him to speak to me like he was, but I wouldn't back down, not now, not ever.

When I didn't speak, he switched the subject and began pulling me along.

"Come, you're soaking wet. Let us seek shelter from this rain." his words were harsh and filled with hate, but I couldn't blame him, especially after all I had done to him. I followed him through the rain swept streets until we arrived at the door of a tall building; the same building I had been staring at last night with the one light burning in the window. Something was different about Erik. He used to walk with a lanky strut, but now he was walking with a funny limp, and he used a walking stick to keep him balanced. I ignored it, and focused on what was ahead of me and not on the way he walked. He unlocked the door with a set of silver keys, and let me enter first. Inside was a stairwell that twisted and turned all the way up to the top floor. Had I been looking at Erik's home the entire time and didn't even know it? When we reached an old wooden door at the top of the stairs, Erik unlocked it, and pushed it open to reveal a huge room that had a piano in one corner, a desk in the other that was piled with paper work, a rusty bed frame in another with a grandfather clock up against the wall, and in the center of the room near a cobweb filled fireplace was a wobbly dining room table. The room was freezing, and the floor had scattered music sheets all over it.

As soon as Erik entered, he began to move about, picking up the scattered papers to clear the floor.

"I must apologize for the mess." he laid the papers on top of his already disorganized desk. "I'm not used to having company over."

I placed my damp arms under my armpits to try to rid of the chill that was taking over my body. Erik moved to the fireplace, and began to brush away the cobwebs that covered its opening.

"And as you can probably see, I haven't used my fireplace either."

His joke made me giggle, but Erik didn't seem to notice it or care. Once the fireplace was lit, he limped over to his closet and rummaged through it.

"It would be unhealthy to stay in your soaked clothes." he reached inside the doors, and brought out a long white shirt. "I'm afraid I don't have any dresses to give you, but a shirt should do just fine."

He laid the long shirt out over his bed, and helped me out of my soaked cloak. The feeling of his hands over my shoulders sent a chill through my body. It had been ten whole years since I last felt his hands touching me. He hung my cloak over the fire to dry, and disappeared to give me some privacy to change. Even though I could not see him, I heard him rummaging around the corner. I heard a few glasses being moved about, along with the slow mumbled curses beneath his breath.

"When you're finished changing." he began. "You can hang your garments over the fire. Your corset must be soaked too, so I would advise you to keep that damn contraption off."

Once more I giggled; Erik never did like the fact that I wore a corset. He was always taunting me about how it was hurting my lungs and such. The white shirt slid over my naked body, and wound up at my knees, the long sleeves bringing me such warmth; it even smelled like Erik.

"Are you decent, Madame?" came his call from around the corner.

Madame? He never called me Madame. I knew he was still mad at me.

"Yes, I am."

Two seconds later, he came walking around the corner, his walking stick in one hand, and a glass of water in the other.

"Here, drink this."

I took the glass out of his hands, and drank the lukewarm water, noticing that he was still soaked to the bone.

"You're wet."

Erik scooped up my soaked garments from the floor, and hung them over the fire with my cloak.

"I'm fine. I'll dress in a moment. I do hope the shirt comforts you."

"Yes, it's perfect, thank you."

"Well…." he looked around his flat, embarrassed on how messy it was. I didn't mind, it was a place to keep me warm from the weather. "Make yourself at home. I'm….I'm going to get changed."

I circled myself, trying to see if I had possibly missed a couch or a chair. When Erik saw this, he cursed himself, and once again went into his closet, bringing out a few pillows and patched up blankets before spreading them out near the fireplace.

"I must apologize once more." he spread them out until they were to his satisfaction. "Furniture is something I find completely irrelevant with it being just me living here."

With that, he walked away, and I plopped down onto the bedding of pillows, letting the warmth of the fire seep into my body. As I sat there, I couldn't help but glance over towards Erik's bed and notice him changing. He was being careful not to expose any part of his body, slipping on a new shirt before he even removed his soaked one. When I saw him look up, I moved my stare back to the fire as not to anger him further. A few moments later, he was at my side, a long black overcoat flowing at his ankles. He gripped onto his walking stick, and cringed as he sat down beside me, keeping a fair amount of distance between us. He was dressed in long black sleep trousers, his boney pale feet sticking out of them. My angel never wanted to be away from me, but now, ten years later he was making sure to keep as far away from me as possible. We sat there in a silence you could cut with a knife, neither looking or touching each other. But when I began to hear him shifting about, I looked over to see his boney hands reaching inside of his left pant leg. I had no idea what he was doing. Perhaps he was scratching himself? It wasn't until I heard the sound of metal squeaking and him pulling a heavy brace out from his pant leg did I realize why he had been limping. God! He had a bad leg.

How had he obtained such an injury? Had the mob found him? Had they tortured him and broken his leg? Why? Why had I left him? He laid the metal brace up against the hearth of the fireplace, and began reaching inside his other pant leg. What was this? And with the same metal squeak came another leg brace. Oh, my poor angel had two bad legs. He set the brace right up against the other, and began massaging his legs from the ankle all the way up to his thigh. When he noticed me gawking at him, he moved father away from me and sighed.

"It would make me more comfortable if you didn't gawk at me like the crippled man that I am."

"No, it's not like that.." I paused, trying to think of how to start my first conversation with Erik in ten years. "How did it happen?"

If I could at least know the cause of Erik's injury, than I could feel better knowing that I hadn't caused it, or worse for not being there for him.

"If you must know…" he snarled. "I was mugged and beaten to a pulp for the measly amount of the five dollars in my wallet."

My poor angel. Paris had not been the only place that had treated him so cruel.

"Look, once this storm ends I'll take you back to what ever hotel you're staying at. I'm sure your lover will be missing you."

Erik thought I was here with Raoul. Had he forgotten about the letter he had written me?

"Erik, I'm not here with Raoul. Raoul's not actually here at all."

He paused from massaging his legs, and slowly glanced my way, a look of distraught on his masked face.

"Then who in God's name are you here with?"

"I came alone."

"And what of your lover?"

I reached over for my leather pack, and took out the envelope that held Erik's letter inside it.

"I got your letter. I couldn't stay with him any longer."

I closed my eyes, and turned my face to him so he could see the healing bruises that were still fresh on my cheek. I waited to feel my angel's hand brushing them, but that feeling never came. Did he not love me anymore?

"You need to go back." were the harsh words that escaped my angel's mouth. "You need to pretend that letter never happened. I was sick, and did something I shouldn't have done." He grabbed my arm, and lifted me to my feet in a violent rage. "You need to go! You need to go back to Paris! You cannot stay here!"

"I don't love him anymore!" I pleaded. "I don't love him, Erik. He beats me! He hurts me every night. He beats me because I can't have children! Please, please don't make me go back to him!"

I was sobbing now, on my knees, brushing my arm that Erik had bruised with his violent force.

"Years ago I would have believed you, but not anymore. My heart cannot take another rejection from you or anyone else. For our life would be as beautiful as my face."

I gasped. Those words, those hideous, vulgar words had come back to haunt me.

"Erik? Please…"

"No!" he snapped. "You were right. Our life together would have been hideous! Not only have you come here on the assumption that I would shelter you from your lover's abuse, but you also stole from me! How dare you come here to my world and steal?"

"I was hungry and without money."

"So that gives you the right to steal? I think not. But because I am a kind monster, I'm going to let it slide. We're both even now. And tomorrow you will be on the first passage to Paris. You weren't there for me ten years ago, and I'm not about to be there for you!"

Erik rose to his feet, and stumbled across the room, falling right near his desk. I tried to get up to help him, but he burst out in anger.

"Get up from that spot, and I'll kick you out tonight! I'm not a helpless invalid!" He struggled to his feet, snatching his walking stick from the floor. "I can care for myself! I've been doing it my whole life!"

For a while more, I laid there by the fire, glancing over at Erik every once in a while. He was sitting over at his desk, indulging himself into his paper work, the only sound being the rumbling of my hungry stomach.

"Could you cease that disgusting noise!" he growled, clenching his quill within his fingers.

"I'm hungry. I haven't had anything to eat in over two days."

"You stole from Nathan's today, didn't you?" he mumbled as he continued with his work.

"I dropped it."

Erik laughed, taunting me with my mistake.

"First you steal, and then you drop the goods. Oh, you're such a wonderful criminal, Madame, you would surely last out there on the streets."

"I could." I lied, knowing I would die within a day.

"Sure you could. That's right, you could steal hotdogs….and then drop them before ever getting to eat them. Yes, I'm sure that would do your stomach well."

"So could I have something to eat?"

"And now you want my food? Give me one good reason why I should feed you?"

What had this man done with my Erik? The Erik I remember was kind, caring and would have done anything for me. Had my rejection made him so cold?

"Please, I'm starving."

A long silence occurred, with the end result being Erik giving into my plea.

"Fine." he growled. "My food pantry is on the other side of the room. If you waste so much as a single bean I'll be sure to make you pay."

I moved from my spot on the pillows, to the other side of Erik's flat where there was a pantry against the wall. I opened the small door to see three shelves stacked with cans of food. He had so many varieties to chose from, that I didn't know what to pick. Finally, I chose a can that was labeled "peaches" and walked back out to where Erik was sitting.

"How do you open it?"

"Figure it out yourself." he growled. "Can't you see that I'm busy?"

"I just asked a question is all."

"Yes, and next you'll be wanting me to cook it for you too. Leave me alone."

Dissatisfied with his answer, I sat back down on the pillows, and reached for the sharp fireplace poker. I stabbed it through the top of the can, making a small hole. I had never opened a can before, and didn't know the dangers of doing so. I thought by sticking my finger into the hole and prying up would release the lid, but it only cut my finger. I yelped in pain, and pulled my gushing finger out of the top of the can. My yelp had grabbed Erik's attention, and he spun around to see the blood seeping into the shirt I was wearing.

"Damn you, woman! What on earth are you trying to do!" he was at my side in an instant, snatching the can out of my hand, and pulling me to his sink. He forced my hand under the faucet, the icy water stinging it.

"That hurts!"

"It's going to; now shut up."

Erik tightly wrapped my finger in a towel, and told me to apply pressure to it. He approached the pantry, and took out a small knife looking contraption that hooked to the top of the can, and pried off the lid. He then slammed the open can of peaches down in front of me; some of the juice landing on my wrist. He then gave me the dirtiest look before leaving me alone to eat in silence.

How badly I wanted to yell at him for not opening the can for me in the first place, but I knew better than to say anything. I ate the cold peaches in silence, savoring their sweet and delicious taste. When my stomach was full, I curled up by the fire and closed my eyes, but not before seeing Erik turn out the lights and crawl into his bed without even a single "goodnight, Christine."

I knew I had changed Erik's once warm heart to ice. I had taken what kindness he had left and replaced it with hate. I had killed him. I knew Erik was no longer here, he was replaced with a stranger that hated the world. I was returning home in the morning, and when I got back, who knew what trouble was waiting for me…..Oh, what have I done?

Please review everyone! Thanks! Love you all!