Suddenly, Catherine got an idea. She knew where Christopher lived, so why couldn't she go see him? She immediately went to her dressing room and groped around her mirror for the spring.

Click.

The mirror opened slightly and Catherine slid it back the rest of the way. She turned on the flashlight on her phone and continued down the dark passageway. Catherine entered the elevator and stared at the many buttons. She closed her eyes and thought hard, moving her hand to the panel and pressing the multiple buttons. It took her a couple tries, but she finally found the correct combination and the elevator door closed.

After a minute, she arrived in Matt's well-decorated home. "Christopher? It's Cath. Are you home?" The girl called.

Matthew had been in the sound room, attempting to figure out a new set of harmonic intervals for a piece. Catherine's voice cut through all the noise and filled his ears. "Cath," he said in shock, removing the earbuds. "Cath, what are you doing here?"

"I had to come see you," Catherine smiled. "I gave him a proper goodbye like you asked."

"Listen, Cath," Matt sighed in despondency, "I'm sorry. I was brash. I didn't mean to just....I lose control...I lose all reason when I'm with you. I can't account for it."

"I was hoping that you would kiss me," Catherine said with a shy smile. "Don't apologize."

"I just-" he gave a shifty-eyed, nervous glance around the room. "There are things you don't know about me, things that could change your mind."

"Like what?"

Matt's eyes flashed dark with a fury of rage and regret. "Things, Cath. I don't want to talk about them...but I don't want you misled either. I'm no Erik."

Catherine felt her famous temper rise. Why wouldn't he just tell her? "God, Christopher," Catherine almost yelled, throwing her hands up in frustration. "I rejected a marriage proposal from my boyfriend of nine months for you. You would think that would at least elicit your telling me your name, but no. I don't know the slightest thing about you, and yet, I've given up everything for you. Don't you think that that says something?"

"You're right," he nodded. "You're absolutely right. I'm sorry." He looked about the little room, his eyes tracing the grain of wood in the floorboards, running along the edges of trim, and resting on the wires that ran across the ceiling. "Right then," he said taking a seat and crossing his arms with a nervous little laugh. "Three things about me. My name is Matthew. I don't like it, but it was my dad's name. I would have changed it years ago, but it's the only thing I have left to remember him by. Unlike Erik, I suck at music. I have an ear for it, but it takes me a lot of work to get it how I like it. And lastly, I have a sister in Brooklyn who doesn't know I'm alive. Your turn."

Catherine looked down. What was there to tell him? Should she tell him of her parents? Of her sister that died? Of when she used to have depression? Nothing seemed fitting. She took a deep breath and said, "My father left shortly after my sister died, and I haven't heard from him since. My mother died four years ago..." Catherine trailed off and shifted uncomfortably.

Matt had one very good talent. He had a heightened ability to read people, their actions and quirks quickly letting him into their inner hearts. He had held back on his ability until now, wanting to know her slowly, savoring each new idea, but the distress on her face triggered within him a need to set all right.

The twitch in the left eye when she mentioned her sister. It caused her pain. It was an unexpected death.

The glance at the guitar when she spoke of her mother. Music. Somehow, they had shared it.

Those were small things, painless ones.

The next made him sick.

There was the tug at the sweater sleeve, pulling it down over the wrist. Hiding something. Hurting. A frailty, an instability he hadn't sensed before. A dangerous one, deeply enthralled in emotion that had perhaps been so near her undoing. Drawing so close to the brink of mental ruin that she could see it's edge, feel her self tottering nearly over.

"I'm sorry," Matt said softly, keeping all his observations, the wall of new comprehension that hit him, to himself.

Catherine wanted to tell him of her sister, how Charlotte had been there for her through her darkest hours. She was truly a great person. "Charlotte," Catherine whispered, letting a stray tear fall down her cheek.

"Charlotte," Matt repeated to himself with a nod. "I'm sorry," he said cooly, his voice deep and stark. "I've been inconsiderate. Pray, sit. I'm sorry if I've disturbed you."

"It's quite alright," Catherine replied, quickly brushing away her tears. She sat down cautiously beside him. "So, Matthew, huh?"

He gave a small groan in reply. "Sadly."

"Matthew happens to be my favorite name."

"Really?" He asked with a laugh. He looked about the drab room and gave a discontent shake of his head. This was no place for happiness. "Do you trust me?" He asked as he bestowed an intent look upon her.

Catherine looked at Matthew, her bright blue eyes staring straight into his. "More than anything."

He took her hand and pulled her upward, rushing towards one large, black, padded back panel of the room. He gave her a nod of assurance and gently pushed her backward. Using calloused, strong hands, he felt into the groove between the two adjoining panels and pried them apart.

A long winding staircase upward revealed itself, a shaft of light cutting thorough the darkness from above.

"Go on," he laughed, gesturing for her to go ahead.

Catherine smiled. What mystery was he revealing to her? She complied with his demand and went up the staircase, softly humming the melody to Why Have You Brought Me Here?.

He followed close behind, shutting the panel behind them. As the darkness filled the passage, his intent became more apparent.

At the top of the staircase, lay a small bay window, about a foot deep and four feet out from the rest of the building, glassed in on all four sides.

"Bit of fresh air?" He suggested, standing at his full height to reach the lock that opened the window.

As the lock clattered and the large rectangular frame fell open, the sweet air and sounds of busy Parisian streets echoed around the tall shaft of room.

"It's raining pretty hard," Catherine remarked. "It's definitely not going to be fun walking all six blocks home in this weather."

"Come on!" He laughed, sticking a hand out the open window and breathing in the fresh air. "The world always feels best after it rains. Fresh, a renaissance, a rebirth of sorts." He turned and faced her with glowing eyes. "Looking at things anew. From the view of music rather than droll cynicalness."

"You're not the one who lives so far away," Catherine laughed. She had a mischievous look in her ocean eyes.

"Come on, it's not that bad," Matt chuckled in awe. "You're telling me you've never seen Singing in the Rain? Gene Kelly, in love, clinging from a streetlight? There's nothing more romantic, more pure in life than watching rain fall, feeling it." He grasped her hand and gently put it atop his outside the window sill, letting it grow wet in the downpour. "Don't you feel it? The magic?" He sighed, closing his eyes with a content smile. "Rain is a music of itself."

Catherine trembled under Matthew's touch and quickly pulled her hand away. "I feel it all too well," she said, choking bad tears. There was so much Matthew didn't know about her.

"Sorry," Matt laughed with concern, fixing his mask nervously. "I tend to...talk too much, too deep and it freaks people out. I-I- hate this window. All these beautiful things I can see and never touch." He quickly turned his glance to Cath, and briskly turned away. Another thing he feared was always to be just out of his reach.

Catherine looked at his mask and sighed. Why wouldn't he just take that blasted thing off? She had half a mind to do so herself when a familiar saying came to mind, "Curse you! You little lying Delilah!" It made her giggle quietly. She turned her thoughts back to the rain. It was beautiful in some sad way.

The truth was, at one point in time, Cath loved the rain. She felt pleasure in running through the yard with her sister, often while singing. All that changed the day Charlotte died, however.

Catherine sighed. Why couldn't she just be happy and enjoy her time with Matthew? Why did her thoughts keep persisting to dwell on her sister?

She sat down and buried her face in her hands.

Matt looked at her worriedly.

This was stupid, impulsive, immature...maybe even wrong.

Two people, who couldn't even find themselves, equally broken deciding that maybe they could face the world together.

Idiot.

"Earth seemed a desert I was bound to traverse," Matt said slowly. "Seeking to find those old, familiar faces. Charles Lamb wrote that once." He hesitantly dried a tear from her cheek and lifted her chin towards the rain. "When you look at it," he said softly, "who do you see?"

"The rain reminds me of my sister Lotte," Catherine said, a single tear escaping, making it's getaway down her cheek.

"Little Lotte," Matt sighed. He took a deep breath, unsure what to say. Loss is something we all take, it twists us in different ways, making some of us stronger, others simply into different form.

"When you need me," he said firmly, "I'll be here. And this place, though my prison, shall be welcome as your sanctuary. Whenever you require it, it shall be yours."

"Thank you," Catherine replied. She wanted to kiss him desperately, but refrained. She turned her thoughts back to the problem at hand. "It doesn't seem as if the rain will let up. Perhaps I should leave now."

"Hey," he chuckled, "if you want. Please, if you can..."

Suddenly an image crashed through his memory, paralyzing him in pain.

—————

Seven years ago.

"Please, if you can? I miss you dreadfully," Matt moaned.

"Babe," the girl laughed, "perhaps I should leave now. It doesn't seem like this rain will let up."

"Please stay!"

She gave a small laugh. "I've seen the show a hundred times. Let me leave during intermission, and I'll cook us something for dinner, alright?"

Matt wrapped a hand around the girl's waist. "Come on, please? Just one more time. I swear I'll sing my heart out if I can just see you smiling at me from third row center."

The girl gave a sigh and glanced at her watch. Matt kissed her cheek and she felt herself give in completely. She smiled at him sweetly, her green eyes framed by long golden locks. "Fine. But I choose breakfast for tomorrow then."

"Deal," Matt grinned. "You can stay. But only if you want to. Only if I'm worth it."

The girl gave a sigh and buried her head in his chest. "Matthew, don't you know you're worth everything to me?"

—————

Matt's face fell pale and he felt as if a dagger had been plunged into his chest. "You can stay," he said hoarsely. "But only if you want to."

Catherine's heart fluttered. Did she hear him correctly? Did he really want her to stay? If he did, his face certainly did not show it. "Are you alright, Matthew?" She asked.

Matt stood up quickly, fixing his suit jacket and jumping to the second stair down.

"I'm fine," He mumbled. "I'm always fine. There's a room through that door."

He pointed to a small hallway off the edge of the staircase, avoiding her eyes at all costs.

Catherine didn't say a word and went silently into the small room.

That night, she lay in the unfamiliar bed, her eyes wide open. She couldn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, her mind went back to that dreaded night all those years ago.

—————

Nine years ago.

Charlotte had been out with her boyfriend, Mark, at a party.

Catherine sat at the bay window, eagerly awaiting her sister's return. "She'll be back at ten," she kept repeating to herself as she watched the rain.

Ten came and Charlotte hadn't yet returned. Still, Catherine waited.

An hour later, Charlotte still hadn't come home and Catherine began to worry.

She went downstairs to find a police officer with her parents. She caught the end of his sentence, "...your daughter is dead."

"Where is Charlotte?" Catherine asked, her heart pounding.

Catherine's mother looked at her with concern and grief as she took the girl in her arms and said, "Mark was driving and they got in an accident. Lotte didn't make it."

—————

Catherine sat up suddenly. She couldn't take the silence any longer. She got up and went to the room with the large window. She sat down, thoughts of her sister still consuming her mind.

Matthew came jogging up the stairs, mask off, wearing a pair of slacks and a Beatles t-shirt. "Oh my god," he stammered, stumbling backward after seeing the figure in the window, "you scared the crap out of me."

Catherine didn't hear him. She sat there quietly, tears running down her rosy cheeks, toying with the ring on her finger. It had been her sister's.

He stared at her blankly, the darkness like a veil, thinly keeping her face from his.

As she turned to adjust her position, all within seconds, the moonlight hit her hair, dark blonde locks illuminated and dully sparkling in a haze.

His eyes felt blurred, grey and hazy as if he were in a dream. "Mel?" He asked in a choked voice, "Melody, is that you?"

Catherine's attention was snapped back to the present. "Hm?"

Matt stared, a pit in his stomach. He was afraid to move, afraid that in the moment he reached out to touch her, to save her, she would disappear into the darkness once more. Against his efforts to restrain his emotion, a single tear ran down his unmasked cheek.

Catherine turned her face away. Matthew had clearly lost someone very dear to him. He understood what she was going through. Catherine immediately shook her head. "Nobody understands me. Nobody knows what it's like to hear that your sister died at the hands of her boyfriend," she thought. After a moment Cath asked, "What are you still doing up?"

Matt quickly attempted to reroute his mind, trying to wake up, or rather, shake himself from sleep.

Cath. Of course it had been Cath.

"I don't sleep," he shrugged. "Not anymore." He slowly made his way and sat down beside her. "I'm sorry..." he stammered, attempting to explain, "I thought you were someone else."

"It's alright," Catherine said quickly, brushing away his statement. Try as she might, she couldn't shake her sister from her mind. She never thought about that horrible night this much. Why was she suddenly reminded of it?

"She sounds like a amazing person," Matt said softly. "Your sister."

"She was," Catherine replied, still refusing to meet his gaze. She had been digging her nails into her thigh. There was a good chance she was bleeding by now, but she didn't care. She was trying to make her tears stop and that was the only thing that was helping. "Did I tell you how she died?"

"No," Matt said softly. "You don't have to say anything you don't want to."

Catherine laughed sadly. "She went to a party with her boyfriend. They were on their way home when Mark swerved and hit a pole. Charlotte was dead on impact. Mark survived with a few broken ribs and a pretty bad concussion," Catherine broke into sobs. "He...killed my sister...I want...to get back at him...but I can't..."

After a moment's hesitation, Matt found the courage to slowly slip his hand into her own tense one. He held it tightly, his eyes fixed on hers.  "I-I sometimes dream things so real that they seem like they're right in front of me. Memories, so strong they take solid form. I can feel them, speak to them, touch them...and yes, even hurt them...but Cath, illusions are dangerous people. If we don't let them guide us forward, they only hurt us by pinning us back. We look for someone to blame, someone to hate. But revenge, it's empty and once we've taken it...Well, I've spent the past seven years of my life down here, alone, in the dark. And now- now that I have you, I have something real again. And I can't help but feel it's a gift from every lost moment I've ever had."

Catherine leaned into Matthew, resting her head on his shoulder. "I can't help it. My sister was sixteen. She still had her whole life ahead of her. She wasn't even out of high school...Mark didn't even come to her funeral. He was the one who killed her and didn't even show up. Accident or not, I can't ever forgive him...Let's not talk about this anymore," Catherine suggested. "Why don't we go get some sleep?"

Author's Note: This chapter is also dedicated to xxElectricRosexx