A/N: Whoa, long time no see. I saw Love Never Dies a few weeks back and fell in love with it again, and I wanted to continue this story anyway soooo…here I am. Anyway, I know the first chapter was written in Erik's POV but as I started writing this story again I got the feeling it wasn't just his story to tell, if that makes sense? So yeah, starting from here on out both Erik and Christine will have their own POV sections. I want to apologize in advance if anything in this chapter makes you super angry, hah. I promise there's a reason for everything, just stick with me!

She woke with a start. Her hand shot out across the bed, and her fingers pressed against the warm skin of Gustave's arm. Christine sighed, cursing her nightmare, and pulled her hand back under the cover. She brought the sheet to her chin and watched her son's pale face as he slept.

The room was completely still in the early light. She propped up onto her elbow, her head turning to the empty armchair in the corner of the room. Her stomach dropped. She glanced down at Gustave, worrying her lip in thought. She hated to leave him for even a moment, not after what happened on the docks.

Christine had felt every strain of grief that one could, but none of them compared to nearly losing her son. Even with him safe beside her, her mind was restless with thoughts of what could have been. What little sleep she got was more exhausting than refreshing, as she spent the entire night stuck in an endless cycle of nightmares.

She noticed a small lump on the edge of the bed. Gently, she inched forward, careful not to disturb Gustave. He had thankfully slept through the night, but she suspected it was from the numerous serums Nadir had injected him with. She shivered at the thought, she loathed needles.

A fresh change of clothes waited in a neat stack at the end of the bed. She nearly threw herself at them, but forced herself to delicately climb out of bed first. She looked to Gustave as her feet met the floor, sighing when he didn't stir. Faintly, she remembered seeing a washroom somewhere in the hall.

The idea of leaving Gustave alone sent a rush a guilt through her system. What kind of mother was she, to leave her son so soon after what happened? It hadn't even been a full day, and already she was being careless. She nearly cried at the thought.

There was a quiet knock at the door, and she whipped around just as Nadir pushed it open. He smiled at her, bowing his head politely.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," he said quietly. She shook her head adamantly, and waved for him to come in. "I assume he slept through the night?"

Christine nodded, stepping aside as Nadir came to stand by Gustave. "Yes, all night. That's a first," she added with a small smile.

"Oh?" Nadir raised his eyebrows, turning away to place a hand on Gustave's forehead. "Is the boy a night owl?" He asked casually, removing his hand to dig through his pocket.

She nodded. Years ago, she would have never caught on to his suspicion, but she was no longer naïve enough to miss the guarded tone of his voice and knowing look in his eye. She shifted from foot to foot, turning her head away as Nadir loaded a small vial with a syringe.

"I was told you had a fondness for breakfast pastries," Nadir said cheerfully. Her cheeks went red, and she could only nod sheepishly. "There is an excellent bakery just around the block, I stopped by first thing this morning. With that said, it'd be a shame if I had to eat all those delightful sweets by myself. Why don't I sit with the boy while you eat? It's the least I could do."

She could have hugged him. Instead she flashed him one of her full smiles, and nodded.

"Thank you, you are too kind. I don't know how I can repay-"

He held up his hand. "Ah, none of that. You are my guest, and one with unfortunate circumstances. It's no trouble at all, I am happy to help."

"Thank you," she couldn't help but say again, and threw her arms around him. He returned her embrace without question, and then ushered her out the door.

The sun was almost high enough for him to return indoors, but he let himself linger on the shadowy fire escape a bit longer. His elbows rested against the cold metal of the railing while his hands absently worked at a series of knots along a thin piece of rope.

He still carried the familiar length of rope, despite not using it for nearly a decade. It served a new purpose, a less deadly and malicious role in his life. Often when he found his thoughts trailing into darker places, he'd busy his hands by tying and then untying various knots. It was an odd comfort, a way to ground himself when the walls around him seemed to close in.

Erik glanced to the side as someone walked down the street. He frowned, knowing his time was up, and pushed off the rail to retreat through the window. He let himself stare one final time at the sunrise before slamming the window shut.

"What were you doing?"

Her voice made him jump. He spun around, his eyes wide. Christine raised her brows in amusement, a teasing smile pulling at her lips. He noticed she had changed into the simple blue dress he had left for her, her hair pinned up out of her face. He quite liked how beautiful she looked even in her plain state. He realized he was staring like a complete fool, and quickly averted his eyes.

Christine crossed her arms, waiting for him to speak. It was only then he remembered she had asked him a question, and he felt the tips of his ears go red.

"I was watching the sunrise," he said in a rush. Silently, he vowed to draw up designs for a mask that covered his blasted ears. He readjusted his collar and discretely brushed some of his dark hair down to cover his ears. "What are you doing?" "Looking for you," she replied honestly.

He could only stare at her once more. He racked his brain for something semi-intelligible to say, but he narrowed his eyes as a door suddenly slammed somewhere below. He stepped forward, listening to the muffled shouts that came from beneath them. There was something familiar about the voice, and he sighed.

Without a word, Erik went to the door of the study. Christine seemed to have come to the same conclusion as him, and she followed him with wide, petrified eyes. There was no mistaking the voice as they moved down the short hallway, and he paused as Christine darted around him to run down the stairs.

"Where is he! By God, I'll kill him I swear!"

That's my cue, he thought bitterly. Erik crept down the stairs without a sound, following the shouts until he came to stand at the threshold of the sitting room. The three occupants by the mantle took no notice of him. He felt that familiar sensation of existing as nothing but a silent observer, and he forced the distant voice of the Phantom away before it grew out of his control.

"Raoul, please," Christine cried, tugging at the sleeve of his arm.

"Who do you think you are," Raoul spat as he rounded on Nadir, pointing a finger in his face. "You're a doctor then? I don't believe it. I'd bet-"

"What you do or don't believe is of very little importance to me," Nadir said evenly. "But I must ask you, once again, to calm yourself. I'm sure Darius explained what he could on the way, but your son needs-"

"I know what is best for my son, sir." Raoul caught Christine's wrist and ripped it away from his sleeve. "We are leaving this instant, before someone else almost gets killed."

Erik clenched his fists at his side as Christine began to try and pull away. He stepped further into the room and cleared his throat.

"You asked for me," he said lowly. Raoul stumbled at his voice, his grip on Christine faltering. "Here I am. What is it that you need?"

"You!" Raoul charged at him with a murderous glare. "I should kill you-!" Christine cried out and grabbed to the back of Raoul's shirt, digging her heels into the ground as she tried to keep him in place. "One night, one bloody night with you and he's shot! Where the devil were you! How could you let this happen?"

Erik felt his jaw clench, a fiery streak of anger and guilt igniting inside him. The sharp voice of the Phantom growled to life once more, bombarding his thoughts with wicked demands. His heart skipped a beat as Raoul closed in. He did nothing as Raoul swung his fist out, waiting for that initial blow before he could justify letting that buried, instinctual piece of him snap.

Raoul's fist connected with his bare cheek, and Erik struck out to bring them both to the ground. It was a daze of fists and shouts, though no one's voice stood out quite like Christine's. He heard her scream as they tumbled over each other, both landing enough hits to leave the other bleeding. He managed to smash his elbow against Raoul's nose, and the dull crack made him certain it was broken. Raoul yelped, and shoved him back.

His head met the corner of the mantle with a sick thud that made his teeth rattle. The world spun, leaving him dazed. He saw double, a black streak flying towards him. He ducked to the right just as Raoul viciously brought down a fire poker where his head had been.

It would have been a gruesome blow, and it spurred on the dark voice in his head. He leapt forward to grip Raoul's neck just as Nadir came to separate them. He saw the blur of Raoul's swing too late, and the fire poker came down against his hand with an awful crack.

There was a blinding light. For a moment there he knew nothing but a white and a faint ringing in his ear. His gut twisted in fear, as he knew that sort of shock only came when something terrible happened.

And terrible it was. The pain erupted through his hand and shot up his arm, an agonizing throb that made his stomach churn. It felt as if someone had taken a meat cleaver to the skin between his middle and pointer finger, and for a moment he feared there would be nothing waiting for him beyond his wrist. The pain grew more and more excruciating by the second, but his sight began to clear. Nothing before him made sense, not in his nauseous and dazed state, but he immediately forced himself to look down at the bloody mess he cradled to his chest.

His vision went in and out of focus with each beat of his heart. He held what was supposed to be his hand in front of his face, but his sluggish mind didn't recognize it. The middle and pointer finger were bent in opposite directions, and he morbidly thought of a dancer in the midst of splits. The skin that was meant to rest between the two fingers was torn past the ridges of his knuckles.

What struck him as odd was the coat of red paint that dripped from his hand. He let out a confused huff, as he couldn't remember coming across any paint.

There was a sharp prick on the skin of his neck. Slowly, Erik turned his head to the side. It was only while he moved he noticed for the first time that Christine held his face. He blinked, shaking his head, and mindlessly dropped his hand to the other side. He didn't want to stain her clothes, the dark red of the paint would never come out.

A figure came into focus behind her. He stared until he made out the face of Nadir peering down at him. He held something with a sharp tip in his hand, but it was too blurry to make out. It didn't seem to matter. Erik let his eyes open and close as he gently swayed in and out of it.

The searing agony in his hand was fading, in fact, everything around him was. He felt content as the world slipped away, even as his mind screamed at him to stay awake.

Christine held her head in her hands as the tears threatened to spill over once more. It had been an hour, maybe two, since Darius and Nadir rushed Erik upstairs. Darius had only emerged once, and that was to immediately escort Raoul away. She wasn't sure where they went, but Darius returned sometime later only to run back upstairs.

The memory of Erik's gruesome hand almost made her ill, and she covered her mouth to stifle a groan.

"Mother?"

She gasped, her hands falling back to her lap. Gustave squinted up at her from the bed. She began to cry, but she smiled as she scooted forward in her chair. She reached out to hold his hand, and the other went to brush back the hair on his face.

"Oh, darling- I'm so happy you're awake." She leaned forward to kiss his forehead, lingering there for just a second. He winced, and she sat back with a frown. "How do you feel, love?"

He tried to shake his head only to whimper. His pain was agonizing to her, making her heart twist.

"Not good," he murmured. "I had a bad dream."

"What sort of dream?" She pressed.

The tip of his tongue came out as he bit it in thought. The familiar quirk made her smile, and she quickly wiped away a few of her lingering tears.

"I don't remember, it's like a memory. But Father was in it, and Mister Y too. I think they were angry, I heard yelling. And then…."

Christine squeezed his hand as his lip began to tremble. "What's the matter dear? You can tell me, it's alright."

"Mother," Gustave whimpered. "I think Mister Y is in trouble, I heard him yell. But it wasn't an angry yell, it was a hurt yell. I know it was a dream, but it felt so real!"

She hushed him as he fell into quiet sobs, trying to contain her own. Christine ran her hand through his hair until his eyes grew heavy once more, and she squeezed his hand.

"Get some rest darling, I promise you'll feel better soon."

Gustave nodded, wincing again. She listened to his breathing as it began to even out, until his eyes suddenly cracked open.

"Mother, will you check on Mister Y?"

All she could do was nod. She was relieved when he finally slept, but a part of her wished he would stir again as she no longer had a distraction from the pressing thoughts in her head.

She frowned, feeling rather selfish, and gently let go of Gustave's hand. She looked to the ceiling as footsteps continuously walked across. She waited a few minutes more before leaving her chair and creeping out of the room.

Christine shut the door with a quiet thump. She pressed her ear against the wood to listen for any sign of Gustave. Satisfied he wouldn't wake at any moment, she pressed off the door and went to the stairs at the end of the hall. Right as she stepped on the first stair, Nadir appeared at the top.

"Oh, I was just about to come get you." He smiled, but it lacked its usual warmth.

Nadir beckoned for her to follow, and she climbed the stairs to trail behind him as he led her to the sole door on their right. Darius stepped out from within, nodding to her as he passed.

"He's going to sit with Gustave for a bit, if that's alright."

She nodded, grateful once again for the kindness of Nadir. He held the door open for her and cocked his head to the side. Christine mumbled a quick thank you as she crossed into a small guest room.

The curtains were drawn tight, with only a single gas lamp on the edge of the nightstand dully illuminating the room. Pushed against the opposite wall was a small bed, and her eyes found Erik there in the center.

"Between us, I gave him enough morphine to bring down a horse," Nadir whispered behind her. She gave him a concerned frown, and the corner of his mouth pulled into a quick smile. "Don't worry, he's more than capable of handling it, and it's better than the alternative."

"What's the alternative?" She asked.

"Listening to him complain for hours on end."

She barely stifled her laugh. Nadir winked, stepping further into the room as he went to collect various scraps of bandages and discarded rags.

"Gustave was awake, for a little at least."

Nadir paused, turning his head to her. "Is that so? Well, that is very good news." He grabbed a stained basin from the nightstand, and she looked away from the sickening red water within. "I've been meaning to check on him, time seemed to slip away before I knew it." He gestured to Erik's sleeping form. "Would you mind waiting with him, I'll be back in a moment."

Christine nodded, but her nerves began to prickle with uneasiness. She watched silently as Nadir made to the door, and he gave her a reassuring smile as he stepped out. The door shut behind him, and she was alone.

Well, not entirely alone.

For the first time since entering the room, Christine let her eyes linger on Erik. She wondered if he always slept on his side, his back arched, and knees close to his chest. The twisted half of his face was pressed against the pillow, as his mask was gone, while his right hand rested beneath. His other hand was wrapped several layers thick, the white material extending down past his wrist. She spotted a handful of fresh bruises on his face, one of them swollen enough to nearly seal his eye shut.

What struck her the most was the slight frown of his mouth as he slept. She wondered if he always frowned in his sleep as well.

She worried her lip as the anxiousness in her chest she had fought to suppress began to break through. She was clueless as to how she was meant to face the terrible shadow of the past twenty-four hours. It was during these moments, when she felt completely helpless, she feared what sort of mother she was.

Her memory of her own Mother was faint, so distant they could have easily been nothing but dreams. Madame Giry had been the closest thing to a mother in her life, and she felt ashamed at her childish tears when Madame Giry had never once cried in front of her or Meg.

Meg.

She pushed the name from her mind as soon as it arrived. She wasn't ready to think about her, not yet. That thought would have to wait in the far corner of her mind where she had also pushed Raoul.

She knew at some point she would have to face everything that had happened since the dock, but she simply wasn't ready.

Erik shifted in his sleep. Christine quickly kneeled by the bed as his eyes opened. There was a grogginess to his movements, and he blinked at her in confusion.

"Hello," she whispered.

He merely grunted, his eyes closing again. She almost laughed, reaching out to brush back some of his hair. It didn't surprise her how similar it was to Gustave's, a dark tangle of unruly waves. He flinched under her hand, and she pulled away.

"How are you feeling?"

"Dead," he muttered, his eyes still shut.

"Well," she brought her elbow to the side of the bed and rested her cheek against her hand, "you aren't dead."

He almost looked disappointed at the news, but she resisted the urge to swat his arm. It didn't stop her from rolling her eyes, and she sighed. He was already asleep once more, the small frown in his lips returning.

There was the creak of footsteps down the hall, and she knew Nadir would return at any moment. She glanced at the door before quickly leaning forward and pressing her lips to Erik's cheek. He sighed.

"Everything will be alright," she promised him, but mostly herself.

A/N: I'll be honest- I was really worried about posting a second chapter to this story and kick starting its continuation. This is personally one of my favorite stories, so I'm super worried people will hate it, hah. Also, I know a lot happened in this chapter and the prior, and I hope the characters don't come off as glossing over the emotional trauma / weight? I think when we are put under such extreme stress, we have to try and deal with it bit by bit so that it doesn't break us. That was my thought process at least, and I hope it came through alright. Thank you so much for reading! I promise there will be more facing of emotions head on in the future!