I sadly don't own the Phantom or any other characters created by G. Leroux, S. Kay and A. L. Webber, but they always have a place in my heart. Big hugs and thanks to Luthien Saralonde, my ever faithful beta, who won't give up on me or the story. Big Thanks to Jenna as well for her input, your rephrasing was much appreciated!

42. MAKING UP IS HARD TO DO

As if in a trance, Erik's feet led him to the music room, seeking instinctively the only thing that always brought him solace – music. Normally, when he was in such a distraught state, he preferred to be alone, but this time he did not mind having Nadir follow him. Nadir obviously knew of his preferences and hesitated at the door step, but Erik motioned for him to come in and sat down in front of the piano, while the Persian made himself comfortable in a chair in the opposite corner where a set of violins hung.

Erik opened the lid and put his fingers over the keys, ready to start playing. But inspiration would not come. He sat there for minutes, staring down at the black and white keys, willing them to speak to him, so he could pour his soul into song, put all his emotion into music, transform his desperation into sound, and take his mind off of what he had quite possibly destroyed with his actions.

He looked up at the ceiling, his fingers grazing over the instrument without actually touching it.

"Please, Joséphine, find it in your heart to forgive me," he murmured, looking back down at the piano again as he finally brought his fingers down to the keys and started to play.

Nadir watched him from the corner, feeling great sympathy for his friend. In all the years that he had known Erik, he had never seen him so wounded, so desperate, not even when the Khanum had dealt out the worst punishments she could imagine for his masked friend.

Nadir was surprised how long it took Erik to finally start playing. He knew that music had always been his emotional outlet, the one refuge he could turn to whenever he needed it. Seeing that his hopefully only temporary fallout with Joséphine had him perturbed so much so that he had trouble expressing himself with music only told him how much Erik had grown to love his wife.

When the music finally started, Nadir released a breath he hadn't known he had been holding, brazing himself for the emotions Erik's powerful music was surely to bring forth from within his misery.

Erik had intended to start with a slow tune, but quite apparently his hands had different thoughts, for after a few bars his fingers started flying over the instrument, and the tune became more aggressive, and very soon he was hammering down on the keys, pouring his self-loathing over what he had put Joséphine through into the melody.

Not long after he had started, the masked man's surroundings fell away, and the only thing that was flowing through his thoughts was his music: It was the only thing that had ever really mattered and the only thing he could not imagine to live without. Not even Christine had been that important to him. Sometimes, he had even considered her as nothing but another instrument to bring his music to a higher level. 'Strange,' Erik thought, 'how perspective can shift in time.' A sad smile grazed his lips, while his mind started reminiscing over the past few months that had led up to this point, to him being here, yearning yet again for love.

With his thoughts running wild, so did his music, and where one moment it was aggressive enough to almost make Nadir jump from his seat at the raw power of it alone. The next piece of his emotional repertoire was slow, and heartbreakingly sweet. Finally Erik settled for a more melancholy tune, unconsciously repeating the main theme of the song he had composed for Joséphine right before they had received the invitation for the dreadful ball.

The melody Erik brought forth from the instrument with his talented hands was hauntingly beautiful, speaking of love and heartbreak, of missed chances and loss. Nadir was soon moved to tears, as was Erik, who nonetheless kept on playing with his eyes closed, not acknowledging the tears that were slowly streaming down his cheeks.

When the door slowly opened, both men were so enthralled by Erik's music, that they did not immediately notice the two women who had stopped at the threshold, staring in wonder at Erik, who sat hunched over the piano, his hands flying over the keys and his body swaying slightly in tact with the melody he created. It was only when Joséphine, still weak from the poisoning, stumbled and her body hit the door frame, making Nadir jump from his seat in the opposite corner, that Erik rose from his trance and turned his head towards the door. Registering Joséphine standing there, held upright by Mathilde, made him halt his music abruptly.

For a moment, time stood still for both of them as they stared at the other. Erik simply sat there, not believing his eyes, as he silently thanked whatever power there was that the woman for whose live he had feared only a few hours ago, was up and well again. It was only when he saw her knees buckling that he stirred into action. With an almost inhuman speed he was at her side, none too gently pushing Mathilde out of the way and taking her place at his wife's side, supporting her.

Joséphine lifted her head to look up at him, her eyes questioning. Wetting her lips, she tried to speak.

"Erik..."

"What the hell do you think you are doing out of bed?" Erik said, interrupting her. "Are you completely out of your mind, woman?"

Before she could even start protesting, he lifted her up into his arms, and turned around in direction of the stairwell. Still too weak to struggle, she could do nothing more but glare at him, easily showing her displeasure towards her husband with his display of paternalism. When they arrived at he stairwell, she finally found her voice.

"Let me down this instant, Erik, or I swear I will..."

"You won't do anything, my love," Erik replied, not noticing how Joséphine's eyes widened at his use of such an endearing and implicative term at her, "at least not until the doctor has checked on you." That said, he swiftly strode up the stairs and brought her back to her room, Mathilde and Nadir following in their wake, casting each other bemused glances.

Once back in her room, Erik put his wife gently down onto the bed, then, straightening himself, he glared down at her. "I don't know what you were thinking, getting out of bed like this. And you," he turned towards Mathilde, who stood with Nadir at the doorstep, "you should have known better than to help her." Mathilde cringed at the reprimanding tone.

"Will you stop it, Erik," Joséphine interfered from the bed, propping herself up on her elbows. Erik turned back to face her, and, thinking that she was going to rise again, made a move to push her back down. However, a glare that she shot at the masked man made him stop where he stood.

"It is not her fault. She did try to make me stay in bed, but I am her Mistress and she had to obey me. And, if it is anyone's fault I got out of bed, it is yours, Erik," she admonished her husband. Erik looked at the woman, simply bewildered at her chastization of him.

"The music you played, I had to come and see you. We..." she hesitated, "...I..." her voice broke again, her feelings and her fatigue quickly overwhelming her. She sank back down on the bed. Within an instant, Erik was with her, kneeling down next to the bed. She turned her head away to hide the tears that threatened to spill, as she tried to get herself under control again.

"Joséphine, I know you have no reason to believe me, because for so long my goal was to win back Christine. But I know now that she is not the woman I need, and especially not the woman I want," Erik pleaded with her, grabbing her hand instinctively. Not long after he began holding her hand did he feel his wife's hand tense under his touch, and promptly retracted his hand in response. Too much her reaction reminded him of responses he had gotten all his life when he had touched someone, and people had recoiled from him, for they could not stand to be touched by such a monster.

Joséphine turned her head to look at him when she felt him pull away. The forlorn look on his face made her heart ache for him. She looked down to where his hand hovered over hers, than back at his face, understanding suddenly dawning on her. Without hesitation, she took his hand in hers, relishing the feeling of his cool skin touching hers.

Erik's eyes gained focus again as he gazed at his wife, then down at their joined hands. Unconsciously, her thumb started stroking his hand, and this small sign of affection made hope spring inside of him; hope that he hadn't ruined everything, and hope that he would have a place in her life once again.

A noise coming from the door made both of them realise that there were still other people in the room. Almost simultaneously Erik and Joséphine turned towards them.

"Leave us," Erik said shortly.

"Would you give us a moment?" Joséphine asked their friends.

Both Nadir and Mathilde had trouble controlling their expressions, the servant girl more than the trained police man.

"Of course, Milady," she said, only hardly restraining a giggle. She curtsied and practically ran out of the room.

Nadir gave the young couple a bemused look, then switched his concentration to Erik. "Behave yourself," he mouthed at him, then swiftly followed the maid.

Once their friends were out of the room, an awkward silence fell upon them.

A/N: So sorry for letting you wait this long, it feels like forever to me too...New city (Cologne, Germany) since april, new job since june. And apparently I left my muse in Austria, and she just came back to me...SO SORRY! Don't know when the next update will be, but I'll try to chain myself to the computer to finish Erik's and Joséphine's romance this year. Thanks to all of you who let me know that there were readers out there, waiting for me to update; you gave me a terribly bad conscience, but apparently I needed the reminder! Hugs!