Erik's POV

After escorting Christine to the hospital, I was told that she would most likely need weeks to recuperate. Though, that wasn't to say that I wouldn't exercise her voice over the next few weeks to get her back to her old self again. It would most likely take longer to get the stage fright out of her head… Exhausted and terrorized, my angel was incapable of walking herself home. She couldn't even maneuver herself off of the examination table, for she was too terrorized. After carrying her home and placing her in her room, I tucked Gustave in bed and hurried out the door.

I marched all the way to Madame Giry's house and broke down the door, barging inside and hurrying up the stairs to her room. Madame Giry was sleeping soundly, but the moment I grabbed her up from her bed, trouble ensued.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Madame Giry shouted.

I slammed the woman up against the wall, my arm kneeling against her windpipe.

"You evil wench!" I cried. "How could you hurt Christine?!"

"Hurt Christine?" she gasped.

"Don't play with me, woman!"

Meg must have heard all the commotion, for she came storming into Madame Giry's room and screamed. I threw the old woman against the wall and ran after Meg, pulling her by her night attire. When I had her in my grasp, I carried the screaming and kicking girl all the way to the bathroom, where I dunked her head face down in the toilet.

"Don't you ever lay a hand on her again! Do you hear me! If I have to come back here, things are going to get bloody. You may think that I still don't have it in me to kill, but you should know otherwise."

"Let her go!" Madame Giry pleaded, pulling at my shirt. "Please…"

I slapped the woman with the back of my hand to push her away, rage still running through my veins at a rapid rate.

"You were Christine's friend," I growled into Meg's ear as she struggled to get her face out of the toilet water. "She adored you…even begged me to give you a job opening for her in my park come spring. And now, you will have no job."

The moment I let Meg go, Madame Giry came at me with a frying pan, knocking it upside my head. The object hit me so hard that my mask flew off of my face and the metal of the frying pan met with my distorted cheek. It hurt, but it wasn't enough for me to back down. No, I ran at Madame Giry and grabbed it from her very hands. Yes, I could have used it on her, but it didn't seem right. No, instead, I threatened her.

"Come within a few feet of Christine ever again and I won't think twice about coming back and murdering you both. Let one little hair on her head be harmed, and I will return, Madame."

With that, I left, slamming the door behind me. When I returned to the house, I wallowed into the kitchen and found some ice to place against my face. In doing so, I heard the faint, yet heart wrenching sounds of Christine sobbing. Oh, she had put her trust in me to lead her to fame, and yet, I had embarrassed her. She would never look upon the stage the same way again. Earlier that day, I had started soup and left the pot of it on the stove until I returned home. After heating it up, I placed two bowls of it on a tray along with some glasses of water and a loaf of bread. I walked silently to her room and lightly knocked with my sore knuckle.

"Christine," I calmly called. "C…Could I come in?"

I heard her sniffle before her raspy voice mewed a low "yes." I took a deep breath and walked in, placing the tray down on her night table in order to set up a small table and two chairs. Christine wasn't even watching me as I did so… No, she was lying in bed with her face buried in her pillow.

"Christine, I know what happened to you tonight was horrible, but it wasn't my fault. I still have faith in you. I had no control over what happened tonight, nor did you."

After placing the food on the small table, I pulled out Christine's chair and waited for her to rise.

"Christine, I promised you dinner. It would make me really happy if you joined me."

Christine tried to open her mouth to speak, but stopped and placed her hand against her neck.

"Here, let me help you…"

I lifted the girl out of bed and carried her to the small table and placed her into her chair.

"There you are," I said, handing her a glass of water. "The doctor said water would help you regain your voice again."

My Christine didn't seem happy at all, which was something that made me feel terrible inside. I reached across the table and squeezed her hand with my own. Her eyes met my own and I lightly smiled at her. I knew that it was now or never.

"Christine, I heard you speaking to the reporters today. I know what you said about me. I heard every word. You taught yourself how to sing, or so you say."

"E…Erik, I couldn't tell the truth," she rasped. "I couldn't tell the reporters that I was taught by you. They would have known. I didn't want to bring you problems."

"It hurt," I murmured. "Very much."

And then, Christine gasped.

"Your cheek!"

"I'm all right… Those Giry's won't be bothering you anymore."

When Christine and I were finished with dinner, I placed her into bed and covered her up. Yes, I could have told her how I felt, but it didn't seem right, for I was hurting inside about what she had told the reporters.

"Get your rest, Christine."

After turning off all the lights, I walked to my room and slammed the door closed, crawling into bed with my heart hurting dearly. A few spare tears slid down my cheeks as I lay against my pillow.

"Mr. Erik?"

When I heard my name being called, I wiped my tears away and turned to find Gustave crawling into bed with me. Oh, what did he want and at this hour?

"Mr. Erik, why are you alone on Valentine's Day?"

"I…I told you before, Gustave," I said. "Sometimes, people are alone, especially people like me."

"I have something for you, Mr. Erik…"

I wasn't sure what he was talking about, but a few moments later, he produced a small, handmade card. I sat up and turned on my lamp, noticing that he had drawn a bunch of red hearts all over it.

"What is this?" I curiously questioned.

"A Valentine, Mr. Erik… It's for you, because I love you. I made mama one too."

I placed the beautiful card on my night stand and ruffled his brown locks.

"That was very kind of you, Gustave."

"I couldn't sleep, Mr. Erik. I was worried about mama… I get worried about her a lot. Especially tonight, after what happened."

"She'll be all right," I said, lying down beside him. "Everything will be all right in a few weeks, boy. Your mother had an accident is all. But I promise you that nothing like that will ever come her way again."

"Mr. Erik, could you and I spend the night together?"

"Like Pirate Island?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed. "Like Pirate Island!"

I chuckled and lifted the blankets up above our heads, rummaging through my night stand for a small flashlight.

"So," I turned it on and Gustave handed me his book. "What shall I read to you tonight?"

"Black Beard, Mr. Erik…"

"Black Beard it is…"

I read to the boy for what seemed like hours, before he and I fell asleep beside one another. I had hoped to have spent the night wrapped up within Christine's embrace, but with everything that had been said, I couldn't bring myself to tell her how I truly felt about her. No, that would have to wait. The following morning, I woke with Gustave lying beside me. I was exhausted and decided to lay there with my eyes closed. The boy who was wrapped up beside me had his thumb in his mouth and his teddy bear clutched close to his chest. It didn't matter if he was of my own flesh and blood or not, he was simply perfect, and I loved him. A few moments later, I heard my door opening, only to feel Gustave being lifted from my bed. I wasn't in the mood to look, but when I felt Christine's hands running through my hair, I opened my eyes to find her crawling into bed beside me and placing her head against my chest.

The girl had been terrorized, so much, that she actually felt comfort in me. It made me feel good inside to know that the only woman I had ever loved actually found comfort in me…I sighed and pressed my eyes closed again, wrapping my arm around her waist. This made her even more comfortable, for she too, sighed into my chest.

"You should be in bed, ange…" I mewed. "You aren't supposed to be up and about, especially after something so traumatizing."

"Ange?" she questioned, looking up at me. "You haven't called me that in years."

"Really?"

She nodded, her voice continuing to be as raspy as ever. Oh, her poor throat. I knew that she was most likely in a lot of pain due to how badly her throat had been burned.

"You always will be my ange, Christine. Maybe months ago I hated you, but time has changed me."

"Promise me that you won't stop holding me… I don't want to stop feeling your arms around me. It comforts me…"

"It's early, Christine," I said, wrapping more blankets around her body. "Why are you in here?"

"I had a terrible dream," she confessed. "I dreamt that I was standing on stage and people were laughing at me."

Christine buried her face deeper into my chest.

"It was terrible…"

"It was only a dream, Christine. The doctor said that you're going to be experiencing things like these for a while. I wish I could go back and kill every last person that laughed at you. You know I would kill them, Christine. I have no trouble doing that."

"No one has ever laughed at me before on stage, Erik. It frightens me… makes me never want to return to the stage."

"You will when you're ready, Christine."

I pressed her head into my chest and caressed her curls, shushing her from speaking another word. I knew that it was best that she didn't speak…She needed all the strength she could get. I laid there for a few more hours, only rising when I heard the morning newspaper being thrown against my door. I rose and wrapped my robe around my waist, stepping past Gustave who was lying on my rug and walked downstairs. My blood ran red the moment I pulled open the paper and saw that the morning's headline was about last night's fiasco. Oh, my poor, poor angel. To shield her from any further embarrassment, I crumpled the paper up and tossed it into the hearth to start a fire. My home was chilled to the bone, making it unbearable to be anywhere but in my own bed.

"Mr. Erik, I'm hungry…"

I was just finishing with the fire, when I spun around to spot Gustave standing on the stairs.

"Well then, why don't you come down and help me with breakfast?"

"I'm cold too…"

The moment I heard this, I tore off my robe and placed it over Gustave's shoulders.

"But what about you, Mr. Erik?"

"The cold doesn't bother me," I faltered. "I'm used to it. Though, it will be warm in here within a few moments."

The robe was far too big for the boy, for the garment dragged the ground as he walked. It was good though, for it would keep him warm for the time being.

"When is mama going to be getting up?"

"I believe it is best to let your mother sleep, don't you think?" I asked, folding my hands behind my back. "She had a very dramatic night."

"All right, Mr. Erik."

"Come along then…"

I lifted the boy up into my arms and carried him to the kitchen. From there, I placed him on the counter and went rummaging through my cabinets to find something to eat.

"I have some shopping to do in town," I began. "So, for the time being, the only thing we have to eat is oatmeal."

"I like hot oatmeal, Mr. Erik…"

"Good. It will have to do until we go shopping a little later. I'm sure you wouldn't mind accompanying me into town now would you?"

"I would love to, Mr. Erik."

"Here," I placed a pot of water on the stove. "Turn that on and get it started. Afterwards, set the table."

With breakfast cooking on the stove, I headed into the family room and started the phonograph. The music was low and gave off just the right amount of mood for the chilly day that it was.

"Mr. Erik," Gustave came walking out into the family room and bowed before me. "Dance with me…"

"Dance with you?"

"Of course. Mama dances with me all the time… We slow dance."

I chuckled and the boy wrapped his arms around my waist.

"Like this…" he said, swaying his hips back and forth. "This is how you're supposed to dance with a lady."

"Well, I'm not a lady, now am I?"

"But mama is…"

When I heard someone coming down the stairs, I turned to find Christine coming towards us. Gustave broke away and hurried to her side, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Mama, Mr. Erik and I are slow dancing."

"Really now?" she questioned. "Mr. Erik? Slow dancing?"

Gustave nodded. "Yes, he dances really well. You should dance with him, mama…"

Before I could protest, Gustave pushed our bodies together and Christine wrapped her hand around my waist.

"Gustave says that you are a wonderful dancer…"

I swayed my hips nervously back and forth, my heart pounding against my chest.

"I highly doubt that, woman…"

"And why is that? You're doing great…"

"Th…this is my first time dancing with a woman."

Her eyes widened. "Really? I…I didn't know."

My hands began to sweat against her own, and then, Christine lifted her head as if she were going to kiss me, but I couldn't…I was so nervous about dancing, that I didn't want to make myself even more nervous with kissing her. Though, I was saved when I smelled something burning… The oatmeal! I broke away from Christine and went running into the kitchen, knowing that my first dance had not only been the best dance I had ever experienced, but it wouldn't be my last.

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