This is a piece I wrote a while back that I hadn't wanted to publish at first, but I've just reread it and found I don't hate. I apologize for any editing or spelling mishaps, I do all of my own editing and no matter how many times I read my stories I find I always miss something! Hope you enjoy, reviews would be lovely.

He didn't need to hear her voice now to know what she was thinking. Her willowy figure was nearly transparent in the moonlight, the white silk of her nightgown glowed against her paled skin. The skin that he had once thought of as something so creamy yet radiant now looked sallow and sunken; likewise her once silken locks were released around her shoulders. Her hair still gleamed in the white of the night, but it hung sadly around her thin physique as if it would swallow her in one. It was unruly, uncombed; her reedy arms were probably too weak now to tame it.

Raoul watched her stand by the window to the balcony for hours. She didn't know he was there, no it would be against propriety for him to protect his own fiancé, but when other men tried to abduct her the notion was merely a "desperate plea for acceptance." Why couldn't he see that? It was easy to hear the tears in Christine's bell-like voice as if she was begging for her understanding even now, months later.

Christine's face was tilted completely to the moon, her eyes wide and shining as she stared up into the masterful presence. Entranced, she remained frozen, just as she had been for quite some time now. Raoul figured it was safe to pull himself from the shadows, if only slightly, to stand a little closer to her. There was a time, he recalled with a pain so deep he thought he could feel it ripping at the back of his throat, when taking a fraction of a step closer to her meant feeling the eternal warmth that absolutely beamed from her soul. The happiness that accompanied her innocence had been such a pleasure to behold and to think that he had once had the opportunity to grasp it for himself was overwhelming. To this day there was nothing more that he wanted than Christine to return, his Christine, to return to her happy state when merely the sight of her fiancé brought a smile to her face. To see her now, so lost and confused hurt him to the core.

A small hand reached up and grasped the curtains, Raoul had to contain a gasp at the sudden movement, he watched in confusion as her porcelain fingers curled around the thick material of the curtains. Her curtains, Raoul had to remind himself, her curtains which he had purchased for her by her request. She had specifically asked for thick, light blue curtains to replace the lacy white curtains he had first had in the room when she'd moved in.

It was his turn to be entranced as her figure sprang to life, clawing at the massive curtains that at this point probably weighed more than she did. Whimpers and gasps were audible as he watched tears race down her sunken cheeks, yet he waited, curiosity rooting him back into the shadows as his beautiful fiancé seemed overcome with madness. With a strength he did not realized she possessed he watched as her furious body yanked on the curtains until they were tumbling down. The sound of ripping material was hardly audible over her racking gasps for air and unintelligible words. Her tiny body positively heaved with effort as she pulled at the material, bare feet squeaking against the clean wood floors.

His body came to reality before his senses revived him from his shocked stupor. In long strides he was at her side, repeating her name in the gentlest chant he could, trying to force her to be still or at least see him in the eye. But she was thrashing helplessly in his arms, tears pouring from her wide eyes, arms still outstretched as if the curtains had done her a personal wrong.

"Christine!" Raoul attempted to demand her attention, fear setting in now. Horrified that he hadn't registered her odd behavior sooner, he clasped the icy and wet skin of her cheeks between his hands. Nails dug into his shoulders as she shrieked a noise so shrill and horrifying that he thought he might faint, goose bumps erupted over his skin as he moved a hand to cup her by the neck. She paid no attention to where he wanted to touch her, instead she threw herself onto his body, hugging herself to him with such abandon that he was afraid he would collapse under the force of her.

"Christine Daae! Look at me, for heaven's sake look at me, Christine! Christine, what is it? What's wrong?" The silence that followed this question was unsettling. Her pupils were blown wide as she tilted her head up to focus on him, as if she only just realized who was holding her. Quivering she clutched onto the material of his night robe in unspoken horror, still the tears travelled down her cheeks to stain the silk of the nightdress as she glanced around to see the curtains pulled to the floor. The heavy material ripped in some places, the placeholder on the wall tilted to the side from her vigorous efforts. Humor, he reminded himself, a light heartedness was what had managed to pull her from darkness in the past.

"Darling, if you didn't like them you could've simply asked for a change." She was in his shadow now, blinking up at him with a blank stare in her blue eyes.

"I'm sorry." It was a meager whisper from those thin lips which had once been so voluptuously full of summertime. His heart was frantic against his own ribcage as he clutched his shaking bride.

"Now, now don't be sorry. Why're you crying, dove?" Raoul pulled her back into a hug, hoping that maybe his warmth would rid her of the chill she'd carried with her so often. Running his fingers through her hair he listened as her breathing slowly returned to a normal pace, but still he could feel the dampness of her tears against the hallow of his neck.

"What's wrong, Christine?" A cool hand clasped the back of his neck, weak from exhaustion it was a half-hearted gesture out of kindness and, he bitterly assumed, sympathy.

"Christine," Raoul tried again. He clasped her chin in his fingers and forced a smile to his lips as he pushed his voice into the softest and most comforting whisper he could manage in such a state of worry, "what happened?"

"He didn't come for me….I don't know why," The tears were slowing now as she smiled up at her fiancé, "I don't know why I thought he would Raoul, but he didn't come for me. Oh but Raoul, I am still so frightened."

Her tiny body was pressed against his once again, her face buried into his neck as wisps of her cold hair tickled at his skin. Hands unsure of where to settle on her, he let them hang by his side as she clutched him tightly. And they stood like that for some time, sobs once again over taking her shivering body as he stood with her, his mind void of any arguments or explanation. At some point the sobs quieted as her throat dried out and she was simply shaking against him, hands firmly grasped in the material of his robe. With trembling hands of his own he led her back to her bed, pulling back the dark blue sheets and tucking her into the material. Silently, once convinced of her sleep, he stood to head back to his room but thin fingers grasped his wrist and tugged him to remain sitting on the edge of her bed.

She didn't open her eyes or say anything, simply feigning sleep but commanding his presence. Even in this horrid state of exhaustion and confusion she was the picture of perfection to his mind. Her curls danced across the silk pillow cases, her hands curled in the most elegant positions framing her face that simply exuded youth. She had cried out in fear that he would come for her, but she had stood waiting at that window for hours in hope of his presence.

Something in the back of his mind pressed forward, hoping to gain some answers from this. Was there a plan devised that had been kept secret from him? Would he awake in the morning to find her gone? Why had she acted out so strongly with the idea of his absence? The questions would have swirled in his mind had they not been so heavy, but now they thudded back and forth. Knocking against each other, mocking him with the picture of her innocent face as the source for such heartache. That was what it all came down to in the end, his love for her, for her every movement, for her every breath. He adored everything about her, from the fluttering of her eyelashes against sunken cheeks to the feet that had stamped so abhorrently against the floor as she tugged at those hideous curtains. He adored everything about her except that aching darkness down in her that kept her from being his completely. Truly, he wasn't sure if he would ever have her to call his own. Or if he would spend an eternity battling against a darkness that he had attempted to kill them months ago.

He would try, though, his tired mind decided against his will. Failure was not in his blood, he reminded himself as he allowed himself to relax onto the cool blanket next to her. Never crawling underneath it to help her find warmth, he laid in silence in the room he had designed for her. Scared that she would hear the painful pounding of his own heart he placed a hand to his chest, trying his best not to wake her with its audible thumping, hoping to heal the agony there with his own touch.

With eyes that struggled to remain open, even in the glowing moonlight that bled in from her windows, he did his best to focus on her soundless face. If he stared long enough, if he concentrated hard enough, if he loved long enough would the answers arise from those lips? In one last act of desperation before exhaustion overtook his senses, he placed one warm hand over her much smaller one, atop the blankets. In his grasp, her fragile digits seemed at home in his large hand. A warmth that he thought he had forgotten flowed through him as he felt her give his fingers a tentative squeeze. Wearily, he squeezed back before he sunk downwards into the lull of sleep that allowed his mind to come to silence, at last.