You awoke the next morning to the sun streaming in your window. A recollection of last nights events came back to you slowly as you pushed your way through your brains sleep fog, then suddenly all at once you remembered everything. You immediately reached for the wounds on your cheek, your collarbone and you shoulder, but found that they had all been bandaged up. They stung as you touched them, but hurt much less than they had last night.

Touching your cheek gingerly, you recalled how the Phantom had saved you and how you'd run to him and hugged him. You cringed in embarrassment, hissing when your cheek burned with the movement of your facial muscles. You couldn't believe you'd hugged him, and you could believe even less that he'd hugged you in return. But he had taken care of you too, you realized, with all of your wounds bandaged. And resting on the chair next to your bed was a tin of salve and a pile of bandages for you to continue using.

You recalled then that he hadn't just cared for you, but he'd opened up to you, at least a little bit.

"Erik," you breathed, testing the sound of his name on your lips. You'd almost forgotten how he had shared it with you, and how you held his hand.

Your face burned in embarrassment as you continued to remember the events of last night. He had stayed with you when you asked, sitting on your bed no less. You'd never been that close to a man before, you realized. Part of you secretly wished he had stayed until morning, so you could see him again in the sunlight, and so maybe, just maybe, you could touch him again.

Slowly, very slowly, you climbed from your warm bed. Your muscles ached as you stretched carefully. The pain in your shoulder only allowed you to move so far. Wrapping yourself in your blanket like it was a shawl, you made your way downstairs to get yourself something to eat. You were starving.

However, before you walked to the kitchens you made your way to the Prima Donna's dressing room. You wanted to see how badly your wounds looked, and the intricate mirror inside was calling to you. You almost gasped at what the mirror showed you. You looked terrible. Your cheek was swollen and your bandaged wounds had already begun to bleed again, most likely from your stretching. It was then, when you were examining your collar bone, that you realized the two purple handprints left around the base of your neck. You frowned deeply and it took a lot of willpower not to cry as your memories from yesterday plagued you. You took a few deep breaths and wrapped your blanket higher around your neck, ashamed at what you saw in the mirror.

You didn't realize the face behind it watching you, seething with anger at the wounds that now littered your body. And the handprints. How had he missed the handprints? Feelings of guilt assaulted him as he watched you. When he'd heard the construction crew was leaving early he should have gone to you instead of work on his music. If he had gone to you like he wanted, none of this would have happened. But he was scared. He was scared you'd ask to see his face again, and scared of what you'd think when you saw him. Every time he thought of letting you, Christine's reaction when she'd first seen him replayed in his mind, her horror. So he'd thought it better to stay away. But how could he stay away now? The way you'd hugged him and held his hand and said his name. He realized then that he wanted you and nothing else.

Leaving the dressing room, you made your way to the kitchen, often reaching out towards the wall for support. You were starting to feel dizzy again, probably because you hadn't eaten or drank anything in several hours. Instead of taking the hallway around the auditorium, however, you went through it. You needed to see if their bodies were still there. What would you do if they were? You certainly couldn't lift them by yourself.

You peaked at the stage and the orchestra pit, but nothing was amiss. There were no bodies and the chair you'd been tied to was gone. A sigh of relief left your body and you continued your slow walk to the kitchen, still clutching the wall with one arm and your blanket with the other. Just as you reached the kitchen, your head swam and you were falling. You weren't close enough to reach out to the kitchen work table. Two warm arms caught you before you fell to the floor and you looked up to find Erik looking at you with worry.

"Erik," you exclaimed, a soft smile on your face. You almost thought you saw a twinkle in his eyes.

"Are you feeling all right?" He asked you, leading you gently to a stool where you could sit and lean against the table.

"No," you sighed, clutching your dizzy head.

"You're bleeding again," he said as he sat down beside you.

He pulled some bandages and salve from within his cloak and started peeling the old bandage off of your shoulder. You watched as he touched you as gently as possible in replacing your bandage, and apologized each time he made you wince. You watched his face as he worked on your shoulder, an expression of concentration. A smile creeped onto your face.

"What?" He asked, noticing your gaze.

"Nothing," you said, lowering your smile a bit. Although you would never admit it out loud, for the very first time you wished you could kiss him.

"May I?" He asked, reaching towards your cheek.

"Yes," you hummed, closing your eyes and leaning slightly closer.

His hands were warm then, and you realized that he wasn't wearing his usual black gloves. As carefully as he could, he removed the bandage he'd put on your face, dried away the blood, and put on a fresh coat of salve.

"You haven't fallen asleep, have you?" He asked as he put on a new bandage.

"No," you laughed. "Why do you ask?"

"You were very still and your breathing was silent."

"You make me feel calm, feel safe."

You were too scared to open your eyes, worried you wouldn't find an expression on his face that you liked with what you admitted, but had you, you would have found he was looking at you with all the adoration in the world.

"Done."

"Do you think it will scar?" You asked, opening your eyes and touching your freshly bandaged cheek.

"Yes," he said, suddenly looking solemn.

"Well, I guess I will look even more like a pirate now," you smiled and Erik laughed. He actually laughed! It made it difficult not to smile more and hurt your cheek.

Standing, he left you sitting on the stool. You thought he was going to leave, but he grabbed a glass of water and a plate of bread instead. He even grabbed the jam you usually put on your bread. You wondered if it was an astute observation or if he had been watching you all the time.

"Eat," he commanded, pushing the plate in front of you. "It will make you feel better."

It was then that he got up to leave. You almost tried to reach out and grab his cloak as he left, but you didn't have to. Just before he left through the door he stopped and turned to you.

"I'll see you soon," he said, opening the door.

"You promise?" You asked, and you swore you saw the same twinkle in his eye as you had before.

"I promise."

~

You quickly learned that Erik's "soon" did not in fact mean within the same day, or even the next. Monday was difficult. You couldn't hide the huge bandage on your cheek, but you could at least hide the other wounds, and the handprints, with more modest clothing and a shawl. The men had asked lots of questions as to what happened to your cheek, and you played the part of a clumsy woman, and said you had fallen. There were questions of Henri's, André's and Jacques absence too, for which you just played dumb. You obviously hadn't seen them since they went home on Saturday.

But then there were the nightmares. Each night following the incident you'd been unable to sleep without waking at least once in the night from a bad dream. Every time it was the same thing, being choked and stabbed and even sometimes killed. And always Henri's face haunting you. You were sure you had bags under your eyes. In fact, you felt like you could feel them.

Your work on the ballroom behind the auditorium was slow at best, but you'd managed to mop the floor and dust it thoroughly within two days. Your favorite part however, was going to be touching up the intricate sculptures on its walls with paint. There were a few places where they needed serious salvation. You hadn't realized how much you missed the lull and deep concentration of painting.

You sang to yourself quietly as you painted, concentrating deeply on not applying too much paint or leaving streaks on the sculptures. Your concentration was so intense that you hadn't noticed when Erik had approached you until you caught sight of him from the corner of your eye. When you turned to look at him fully he laughed, amusement dancing across his face.

"What are you laughing at?"

"You have gold paint all over your face."

"Noooo," you cried, looking at your hands. You hadn't realized they were completely covered in paint and you'd been rubbing your face!

"Here," he said, grabbing your chin gently and trying to tenderly wipe off some of the paint with a handkerchief. You realized then that you wanted to kiss him again.

"Is it coming off?"

"No," he said, amusement still on his face. "Not at all."

You laughed and then groaned at your foolishness. You were sure you looked ridiculous, but Erik did not seem to mind at all. In fact, he was still staring at you intently.

"How have you been?" He asked.

He no doubt already knew about your nightmares, but you couldn't help but turn away in embarrassment. You hadn't had nightmares like this since you were a child and had a mother to comfort you.

"I've been having nightmares," you said finally. There was no point in lying, you realized. He would know.

"They will go away in time. There is nothing for you to fear anymore."

You didn't have the courage to tell him that you feared him going away and never returning. That every time he disappeared you wondered if you'd see him again. He left you alone shortly after that and you struggled not to think about him as you continued touching up the sculptures on the wall. Once again, you wondered if he would return to you, and hoped that this time it would be sooner than the last.