Erik's POV

"We can't all be like Christine…"

"Christine, Christine, always Christine!"

BANG!

I jolted awake, sweat pouring down my face. I sat up in bed, looking around my darkened home. As I sat there gasping for air, I ran my fingers through my bald scalp. From across the room, Gustave and Christine were asleep on the couch. I offered my angel the bed, but she insisted that I needed it more than she did. These nightmares were plaguing my mind, so much, that I knew I wasn't going to get back to sleep now. I rose from where I was sitting, grabbing my robe and tying it tightly around my waist. My body was still in agony from my accident, but I couldn't lay down any longer. To insure that I didn't wake Gustave or Christine, I kept the lamp light dimmed in the kitchen as I worked to place my kettle over the fire. Tea always calmed my nerves, and therefore, I would make myself some. While the water was boiling, I took a seat at the small table, running my fingers through my thin wisps of graying hair.

"Erik?"

I looked over to find my angel standing there at the beginning of the kitchen. She was wrapped in her white robe, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"It's three in the morning."

"I couldn't sleep." I confessed. "Oh, Christine, everything hurts so badly. My side is throbbing, my back aches like you wouldn't believe…"

Christine approached me, rubbing my shoulders with her hands.

"Erik, it will pass. You were shot a few days ago, it is expected."

"I keep having the nightmare, Christine." I cried. "All I see in my dreams is Meg shooting me. Oh, it's horrible."

"Angel, you should just relax."

I shot to my feet, marching across the kitchen in anger.

"It's so easy for you to say such a thing. You weren't the one who was shot."

"And I know this, Erik. I'm just trying to help you. Please, don't get angry; don't frighten me with your temper."

I took a few breaths to calm myself down, lifting the kettle off of the fire before it whistled and woke Gustave up. Before Christine even asked, I whipped her a cup of tea along with one for myself before sitting down across from her.

"Here," I said, placing the steaming mug down. "Two lumps of sugar and a dash of cream; just how you like it."

She smiled. "Thank you, Erik."

I wasn't even interested in drinking anymore, for my fingers brushed up and down the side of my mug as Christine sipped on hers.

"Erik, is there something wrong?"

"If I asked you something, would you tell me the truth?"

Christine nodded. "Of course."

"How do you see me?"

"What do you mean?"

"How do you see me, Christine?"

"I'm looking at you now, aren't I?" she questioned. "You're sitting here looking at me face to face and I'm not even giving you a single look of uncertainty."

"Are you repulsed by me?"

"How could you think such a thing?" she placed her hand over my own, lightly squeezing it. "Erik, I am not repulsed by you."

"But why? Oh, why, Christine? You should be repulsed, you should be disgusted… Why is it that you're not, that you're sitting here beside me sipping on tea while my face is exposed before the very light? No woman would ever touch me, no woman would ever want to pleasure every inch of my core…But you, oh, Christine, you gave me something I was never supposed to have."

"And why is it that you're not supposed to feel love, Erik? You're a man, a human being!"

"And what now, Christine? Have I finally won you? Oh, I can't do this any longer."

"Do what?"

I began to sob, dropping to the floor so that I was on my knees and in front of her.

"I'm not the man you think I am. I've lied to you…claimed you as my trophy once more."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your husband…Oh, Christine I made a bet with him the other night. I made a bet that I knew I was already going to win. You promised to sing for me at my concert hall, promised that you would not abandon my show. I took it to my advantage and told Raoul that if you sang he was to leave alone."

Christine immediately flew to her feet. I looked up to notice that she had tears in her eyes…Oh, how I hated when she cried.

"How could you?" she cried. "How could you do such a thing? After all that we've been through…Who are you?"

"I am your angel of music." I whimpered. "I was dying, Christine, dying, suffocating here in the dark. I told you this a few nights ago… I feel alive again, angel, alive, alive!"

I grabbed onto her hand, pleading with her for forgiveness, but she pulled away.

"No, no…And for me to have thought that you changed, that you were finally civilized."

"But I am…Oh, Christine, please…"

I was sobbing at her feet now.

"I couldn't bear to have you leave the island; bear to have you take our son away from me. It would have killed me…It's killing me now. Please, don't seek Raoul out. Please, for all our sakes. He's a terrible man."

"And you're not? After what you did? Making bets again behind my back! You're just as bad as him!"

"He made a bet with me too, Christine. It took two men to make such a bet…Just like it took two beings to make the child who is sleeping out on my sofa."

"Don't you bring Gustave into this conversation, Erik. This isn't about him, it's about that horrible bet you made with Raoul."

"He is a drunk!" I cried. "A drunk and a con! Oh, ange…Please."

"And to think that I kissed you willingly!"

This killed me inside. God…How I loved Christine, and now, now she was regretting the passionate kiss we had shared after her performance.

"Mother?"

Gustave was walking into the kitchen now, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Christine scooped him up into her arms and began walking towards the door, grabbing her bags as she did so.

"Mother, where are we going? What's going on?"

I dashed to Christine despite all the pain I was in, grabbing hold of her robe, begging her to stay.

"Christine, please, forgive me…"

"Never! You evil bastard!"

"Christine, please, don't leave me… It was a mistake. I was only looking out for your best interest. Think of our son!"

"My best interest?"

She was at the door now, as I knelt there at her feet.

"You were only looking out for yourself again. You see me as nothing more than your door prize."

"No, no, that's not true. I love you, Christine."

"And if you did, you wouldn't have left me ten years ago, you wouldn't have made that bet with Raoul… And to think that I actually started to have feelings for you again."

With that, my angel stormed down the stairs. I couldn't let her go, I couldn't let her leave me. I gathered to my feet, chasing after her.

"Christine, please…Don't leave me. I love you…I love you."

But soon, I could no longer run, and had lost all sight of my angel. She was gone, gone and this time, she wasn't coming back.

Christine's POV

"Mother, where are we going?" my son asked as we took a seat on a nearby bench. "Why are we leaving Mister Y's home?"

I wasn't sure where we were going to go, seeing that we had checked out of the Phantasma Hotel. I wasn't sure where Raoul was, but I knew I would find him sooner or later. Then, we would leave Coney Island for good. How could Erik have done such a thing? After all that we've been through? I thought he was a changed man, but in reality, he was the same Phantom I knew long ago.

"Mother?"

My son was not only frightened, but shaking from the cool breeze that was coming in off the ocean. Summer was slowly winding down and I knew winter would be here before we knew it.

"We'll rest here for the time being." I said, cradling Gustave in my arms. "When morning comes, we'll search for papa and then leave Coney Island."

"Leave Mister Y?" he questioned. "But he's my real papa…You said so yourself, mother. Why are we running away from him? I'm so confused."

I knew leaving in the middle of the night wasn't the best idea for it was frightening my child. But what else was I to do? I couldn't spend the rest of the night here on a bench now could I? I had a child to think about…

"Mother, I don't want to spend the night on this bench. It's cold…"

"I know, sweetheart."

"I know where we could go."

He stood up, pulling me along with him.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

I wasn't quite sure where Gustave was leading me, but I followed him right to a strange skull shaped building.

"Mister Y taught me how to get inside."

"What is this place?"

"His aria. Well, that's what he called it anyway."

Somehow, Gustave managed to squeeze inside a cracked window, opening the door for me on the inside. Whatever this place was, it was magnificent. There was a bluish light glowing all around the room, and it was filled with parts from rides, such as coaster cars and carousel animals.

"Mister Y works here." Gustave said, throwing his jacket into one of the stray bumper cars that were scattered about. "He makes everything for Phantasma in here."

Gustave crawled into the bumper car, covering his body with his jacket as he laid down.

"Mama?"

"Yes, Gustave?"

"I miss Mister Y. Why did we leave?"

"He made me angry."

"Couldn't we go back now? Please, mother…"

"No, Gustave. I think it's best if we spent the night here."

With that, I kissed my child goodnight and began wandering around Erik's workshop. How could I sleep? How could I possibly sleep when I was so angry? I came around the corner, gasping when I noticed a humungous picture of myself hanging over his organ. The picture was as large as the wall…Had my angel really missed me all these years? Had he truly spend endless moments staring upon me and wishing that I was here beside him? If so, then why did he leave in the first place? I plopped down at his desk, noticing a few drawers that were ajar. Curious, I opened them and peeked inside to see a journal laying in the top drawer. I shouldn't have opened it, but my curiosity had gotten the best of me. The first page was dated the day after he left me. Oh, how I should have slammed it shut, but my eyes began reading his childish handwriting.

March 14th 1887

Bliss! Pure bliss! That's what my angel and I had shared. I still wonder why she returned to me, but I never asked, for her presence was like heaven. Never in all my years had I ever made love to a woman before. To go through life alone and untouched was the most painful thing to ever experience. How I've always dreamt of kissing a woman, telling her how much I love her, how I would die for her… When Christine came into my life, all I thought about was kissing her, telling her how much I loved her and how I would give my last breath just to save her life. To finally relieve my body of decades of sexual tension was heaven. But, oh, it was with Christine! She begged me to take her, begged me for my every touch. I had a brought a woman pleasure, and she had brought me heaven. Over and over again, in darkness, our bodies entwined and came together as one, until we couldn't take another moment and passed out from exhaustion.

Though, when I woke wrapped within her embrace, I slowly came back to reality. What was I doing? I lifted my hand to my face, realizing that as soon as the sunlight peeked in through the window that my body and flesh would be exposed. She would find me repulsive and regret everything we had done to one another. Oh, to have her scream and cry would only kill me. But what sort of life would she live with me? I was now a convict, a criminal on the run. I would have to leave Paris and leave her. She didn't belong with me. It was over now…Over. How painful it was for me to rise from the bed we had made love on and dress myself. Even when my mask was back in place, I knew what needed to be done. Therefore, I kissed her on the lips one final time, knowing that this kiss would be my last. I held back tears as I left the motel room, slipping into the dark to catch the ferry with Madame Giry and Meg. Not only had I stepped out of heaven the moment I left Christine, but I had also left every ounce of happiness I would ever feel again... Being without Christine was like being a fish without water…She was life itself!

I couldn't help but shed a tear as I sat there looking down at the entry. Oh, how frightened I was to wake in that motel bed after spending endless hours making love to Erik. How I was ready to look his distorted face in the eyes and confess my very love to him. Only when I woke, I was alone, and his side of the bed had gone cold. I thought that he was just out getting breakfast or doing something to surprise me, but when I noticed that his luggage was gone, I knew he had run away. I never understood why, but now, after reading this entry, I knew it was not only to protect me, but also to protect his heart. How many countless times had I screamed in his face? I knew he felt as though I would do the same after waking. How was it that I loved this man? Why did everything that was right felt wrong and everything that was wrong felt right? Like when I kissed Erik after my Love Never Dies performance. Why had I kissed him? I am, after all, still married to Raoul. But after singing that beautiful song, it opened my core to a feeling I hadn't felt in over a decade, sending my veins and soul fleeting with life.

I had jumped on my angel backstage, kissing him passionately as he groaned into my throat. Even now, as I sat with his journal in my lap, I lusted for his kiss. There was a passion deep inside me that Erik would always stir, but how could I let myself crawl back to him, after all the wrong that he's done? Making bets with Raoul…How could he? Did he truly feel as though he would lose me again due to his appearance? That I wouldn't look beyond his face and smile at him. If that were true, then he was wrong. Curious as to what else my angel had written in his journal, I flipped to another page dated seven years after the first entry.

July 8th 1904

Seven years! It has been seven years since I've last tasted bliss. On my journey to Coney Island years ago, I had promised myself to never seek the company of a woman again. How could I ever betray Christine like that? How could I go off to a random whore house and soil what she and I had done together. She had been the last person to touch me, to kiss me, to hold me…And I would see that it stayed that way, no matter how badly I needed it. Each night, I sit here at my desk, trying to do anything to take my mind off of what every man needs. It was hard for me not to want it years ago when I was still pure, but after making love to Christine, all I ever wish for is to experience it again. Even now, as I am writing this, I feel the urge to want that release I had the night she and I made love. Christine is like a poison in my veins, one that cannot be contained. Potent and septic, her body is all I ever think about. I go mad at night thinking about how to see her again, how to get the release she and I begged for all those years ago. How I pass brothels and whorehouses, pausing and thinking about whether to enter or not…But each time I refuse and keep walking. Oh, Christine, the things that you do to me, the madness you send coursing through my veins. Oh, but I could never be unfaithful to you, Christine. That's what love is all about is it not? Is that not how you know you love someone to death? When you refuse to seek the pleasure one so needs in order to remain faithful to someone else? Oh, Christine.

I closed the journal after finishing his entry. Had he really gone ten years without making love to another woman? Had I truly been his first and last? Perhaps Erik truly did love me after all, so much that all I could ever see him for was the sly Phantom that he was. But how could I possibly look past his mask and dirty deeds and find the man that he was on that night long ago? And what about my husband? What about the bet he was cheated out of? Oh, what was I going to do?

Chapter 3...Please review everyone!