A/N: This was meant to be a one shot, honest, but due to much support, I decided to expand it. Sorry for the wait, I had to deal with extreme power outages, screwy computers, school, Crew team, other fics, and laziness. Enjoy! OH, AND HAPPY VERY BELATED 25th BIRTHDAY PHANTOM!

Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom.

Slowly, Erik picked his way through the wreckage of the Opera Populaire. Ashes covered the once velvety, red carpets as thickly as the snow outside, and heavy oaken beams were scattered all around, sticking out of walls and from the high ceiling, charred, each and every one of them. Erik might've been angry that the only home he had ever known had been destroyed, but he was only filled with guilt that he had been the destroyer.

That guilt was only lessened by the fact that Christine was standing by his side.

He still couldn't believe she was with him at times, even though they had escaped form the mob weeks ago. They had bided their time in the small shed-like cottage until not only the search for the Opera Ghost had worn down, but until Christine's sprained ankle had mostly healed. She could stand on her own now, but still needed support from him to walk.

And now here they were. Erik knew that returning here was a risk, that it was the first place that anyone would look for him, but that is why he chose to come back, it seemed so obvious that he would return, that the police, or anyone else would think it too obvious and search elsewhere.

Erik sighed deeply. He then felt Christine's gentle hand on his shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly. He smiled, turning to her and placed an arm around her waist, helping her limp along to one of his secret passages.

As they descended into the darkness Erik watched Christine. She was gazing into space; deep in thought. She hadn't spoken much after the night she woke up in the shed, and Erik wondered if she was reconsidering her choice of him. He desperately wished she wasn't thinking about the Vicomte de Chagny. He needed her like he needed air to breath. He knew that, if she asked, he would let her go if she asked, he couldn't refuse her. But, of course he'd rather keep her with him.

If he hadn't known the exact layout of the catacombs from memory, Erik would've thought they were lost, but no, by the light of the single torch he held, he could see they were here once more. Now, even though it had slowed them down, he was very thankful he had brought with him many of his best pieces of music, as the floor was covered with torn, crumpled, and dirtied pieces of sheet music, destroyed beyond recognition. Adding to this, the multitude of candle scattered about the lair were smashed to pieces, also demolished. The great organ, however, remained intact.

After helping Christine limp to a chair, Erik began to shift though the garbage on the ground, seeing what could be saved.

Meanwhile, in another part of Paris, Raoul de Chagny sat at a large desk, deep in thought. Ever since he had left Christine below the opera house he hadn't stopped thinking about that moment. There had been something about her, when she said she was staying with the Phantom, something in her eyes which she had never seen before…

Raoul sighed, and downed a glass of wine that sat by his hand. Then, he reached across the desk to pour himself another glass. He heard what the servants were saying, he wasn't deaf. He heard their whispers of how he had taken to going out late at night to the bar, and had come back drunk in the early hours of the morning. So what if he was? That didn't concern them, damn it.

Raoul was well aware that the Phantom had some sort of odd, yet undeniably very powerful, control over Christine, hypnotizing her with his voice, almost. How she followed him seemingly out of her own free will…

Raoul laughed bitterly. As if. That monster. Raoul was absolutely positive of one fact: that when Christine was supposed to leave with him the Phantom had exercised this control, and had manipulated her mind, making her turn from him. Surely, Raoul reasoned, as he reached for the wine again, Christine was suffering now, if she still wasn't under the Demon's manipulation.

According to the police, there still had been no sign of the Phantom of the Opera, nor of Christine, and his domain had been utterly destroyed. They had given up on their search, claiming it was impossible to find, even a trace of him. True to his name, the Phantom had disappeared into the shadows.

Raoul thought of the abandoned Opera House. Surely the monster wouldn't return with Christine there, that's the first place that anyone would look, even if he could resurrect that damned place from its destruction. No, he wouldn't be there.

Raoul spread out a map of France onto his desk. If I was a madman on the run, where could I hide? He thought. The police may have given up on their search, but Raoul was only beginning his.

A/N: sorry it's a wee bit short, it seemed appropriate to end it there though. REVIEW PLEASE!