Disclaimer: I do not own Erik, or Meg, or Madame Giry, or any other characters from the ingenious mind of Gaston Leroux! Anne, however, she's mine...well, she resides in my head until her story is done.

AN: When you get done reading...please don't kill me. M'kay?

Chapter 40

Erik, at times, could accept the simplicity and stupidity of the world. At times, he acknowledged and praised the blind acceptance of some of the supposedly most intelligent minds. He could pass over the world's mind of fashion and gossip to truth that stared at them in the face. This time, however, it was all Erik could do not to throttle someone. Understanding as he tried to be about Anne not revealing the name of her attacker, he could not in good faith allow the rumors of the Opera Populaire to continue. The rumor mills had been flooded with gossip and lies about his precious Anne running off with Faucher, and to have Anne living in his house for a month, was only going to strengthen those rumors. When she did return, she would undoubtedly be ridiculed and censored by everyone. After everything she had been through, she did not deserve that. She deserved kindness and gentleness. She deserved far more than he could give.

The thought struck him cold, and he leaned against the wall, her words ringing in his ears.

"You've been a really good friend to me."

He felt like punching a wall when she had uttered those words and in a flash, he saw everything that he had ever hoped for fall away again. Happiness had been dangled in front of him like food is temptingly held out to a starving man, and then it was all stripped away before he could even touch it. Part of him wished that she had never come into his life, but then the thought was quickly silenced as he realized how happy she had made him, even though it had just been for a short while.

Wanting to see her, he made his way out of his music room to her room. He had checked on her briefly, and found her asleep. Quietly opening the door, he saw her just as he did earlier during the day. She was peacefully sleeping, nightmares a far away thought. He was struck once more by how beautiful she was and how much he had truly come to care for her and to love her. She had been a light in his darkness, the warmth to thaw his cold heart, and an Angel unlike any he had ever seen. And that was why he had to let her go. He had tried once before to keep a woman against her will, and that had had disastrous results. He couldn't keep her, and he knew that she would be miserable if she stayed. He was resolved, therefore, to keep his distance during the month she was to stay here. He would take whatever glimpse of heaven that would be granted unto him, but that was it. Nothing more…there could never be anything more.

He pulled a chair up to Anne's bedside and sat there, simply watching her sleep. Her black hair was spread across the pillows, her long lashed curled against her cheeks, and her lips had a small smile pulling at the corners. He speculated for a moment on what pleasant things she could be dreaming of when her lips parted and a single whispered word was heard.

"Erik…"

It took him a moment to realize that she had actually said his name, and when the pieces fell into place he couldn't help the tears that sprang to his eyes. He had to get out of the room before he did something foolish and wake her. He stood up, slowly, but it was too late. Erik could see that she was waking up, and when she looked up at him, he couldn't leave.

"Erik?" Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes…I was just coming to check on you."

"What time is it? Have I slept too long?" She sat up quickly and he put his hands on her arms.

"Anne, it's alright. You've only slept a couple of hours."

"Only a couple of hours?" She pulled back the covers and got out of bed. "There are things to do. I have things that need to be done."

"Anne, what could you possibly have to do? You're here…in my home…for a month." He smiled at her, and he saw the realization dawn on her face.

"You…you're right. I suppose there really isn't much to do. But…regardless, I shouldn't spend all my time sleeping." She walked passed him and walked out the door. It wasn't until he heard sounds coming from the kitchen that he followed her. However, he was halfway there when he remembered that he was going to try to keep his distance from her. Instead of joining her, he made a detour to his own room, and shut the door behind him. He had to make her realize that he was no good for her, and that she had to return to the world she knew when the month was over. This was the best course of action. Wasn't it?

Something was definitely wrong. I couldn't place my finger on it, but something was not adding up. I had been in Erik's home for nearly a week and he was being distant with me. It was so contrary to the closeness that I thought we were beginning to share and the kiss we almost had at the de Chagny ball. I had thought, now that I was here with him, whatever we felt towards each other would only grow stronger, but I was mistaken. We had a lesson together which had only proven difficult as Erik seemed agitated with me, and I, having no idea what was wrong with him, was equally annoyed.

I looked down at the tomatoes I was chopping for lunch. They had been diced perfectly, just as Cook had taught me. I smiled, wondering what had become of her and the few friends I had made in England. It seemed quite ironic that I was supposed to be visiting friends in England when, in truth, I had none back there. I had more friends here in Paris than I did back home and it made me feel the ever more importance that this was where I was supposed to be. Even here in Erik's home could be considered the place that I was supposed to be.

"Something smells good in here."

I smiled and turned to Erik, who was standing in the doorway. I was surprised that he had dropped by considering during this time of day he was preoccupied with his composing. Not wanting to run him off, I pointed with the knife to the pot hanging over the fire. "Take a peak, but be careful. It's hot." I turned back to the tomatoes which I scooped up and placed into the bowl that had the other vegetables for a salad. I reached for a celery stalk and chopped away.

"It looks good."

"I hope it tastes good. I've not made it in a while."

"Something from before?"

I nodded. "Yes. It was one of my favorite soups that would be made on a very rare occasion."

"Really? Any particular reason?"

I smiled. "No. It just took a lot of effort on making sure the meat was done."

"You have been in here for a few hours."

"Well, give me another thirty minutes and I'll be done."

"There's no rush, Anna."

I jumped when I heard his voice so close to my ear. It caused the knife to slip from my hand and graze my left finger. "Ouch!" I yelped and grabbed the nearest towel. Erik took the towel from my hand and tore of a piece then wrapped up my finger.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be! You walk so silently I didn't know you were so close."

"You're always getting hurt."

"Well, anything in relation to Faucher does not count. You had no control over that."

"But if I…"

"If you?" I laughed. "Silly Erik. You mustn't blame yourself. It wasn't your fault anymore than it was mine. Stop blaming yourself and help me find a bandage for my finger or lunch will never get done."

"Oh, yes…right." He hurriedly left the kitchen and I waited patiently. I ran my finger under the water, wincing when I felt the warm water hit the cut. When I heard his hurried footsteps returning I looked back to the doorway surprised to find him with an armful of things. "I'm not dying, Erik."

Paying no heed to my comment, he took my hand away from the water, turned off the faucet and then scrutinized the injured digit. "Here, let me see."

I laughed at him as he examined my injury as if it was a life threatening thing. He applied some sort of ointment to my finger that smelt like spices from a distant land.

"To prevent scarring," he whispered, answering my unspoken question. He then wrapped a bandage around my finger and was done.

"Thank you," I replied, recognizing his kindness for what it was. I looked up at him and found him to be very close, almost as close as he had been the night of the Masque Ball. "Erik…there's nothing to be concerned over. I'm going to be alright."

"Why can't you see that being here with me means that you are anything but alright."

I frowned. "It wasn't as if I had a choice in the matter." I had spoken hastily, and it had hurt him. He turned to walk away but I caught his arm. "That came out wrong, Erik. I'm sorry. I don't want you to think that I'm here against my will…"

"But aren't you?" He looked back at me, anger in his eyes.

"Yes, but I don't want you to think that I'm unhappy being here. Aside from the fact that you've been quite distant over the past week, I've enjoyed my time here. I can read, and play to my heart's content and…"

"But surely that's not all that you need to make you happy. You require more than just this gloomy lair."

"Your home is far from gloomy. It's a beautiful sanctuary for you and holds everything that is important to you."

The look in his eyes changed. Anger no longer hardened them. His brown eyes softened to reveal tenderness, and caring, and…something more…something deeper. He reached out and cupped my face with his right hand. He caressed my cheek, his thumb grazing my lips, before running his fingers through my hair and then returning his hand to his side.

"Yes, Anna. Everything important to me is here. Everything I care about is here."

I felt my throat go dry, and my heart quickened. I had no response.

"Anne, would care to join me later after dinner?"

I was confused. "But we are always together."

"There's something special that I'd like to show you. It's a sort of present."

"Of course. I'd love to."

He smiled at me, and I felt my heart melt. "You'll need to dress for travel."

"We're leaving the Opera House?"

"Sort of."

He said nothing else, but smiled and walked away leaving me to finish lunch and to wonder what he had in store for me.

Erik paced around his study, his thoughts in a complete wreck. He should have nothing more to do with her, but the past week had been nothing but torment. He tried to stay away from her but he couldn't put himself through that kind of agony any longer. He had watched her carefully…closely. After she had come clean about her past, he was amazed at the change in her. She seemed lighthearted and carefree. She wasn't burdened with her secrets. She even did something that she was quite sure she had no idea she was doing.

She was singing. Well, he would catch her humming a tune or singing a few phrases from the chorus of Romeo and Juliette, but that would be it. And for him, that was enough. She had a beautiful voice that he could tell had once been trained and she instinctively remembered that training. Her voice had quite a full sound that was perfect for Bizet's Carmen, and other mezzo-soprano roles, but he could tell that she had a higher register that was just waiting to be released.

Tonight, he would tell her. Tonight everything would change. This was the night that writers only dreamed of. This was the night that only dreams were made of.