Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom. Fooey!

XXX

The sun was starting to rise outside the Opera House by the time Erik and Christine had finished going through Christine's dressing room and flat, collecting her most important belongings and moving them into Erik's underground home.

"There, that is the last bit." Erik stated as he put a few leather-bound books on the small shelf in the bedroom he'd designed for Christine. "Go ahead and get some sleep. I will wake you in a few hours for some breakfast and a more detailed tour of the house."

Christine nodded, too exhausted to speak, and slipped into the attached bathroom, closing the door silently behind her.

Erik dusted off his hands and looked around the bedroom, elated. Phase one of his plan was now in place.

XXX

"Christine, time to wake up."

Her eyes fluttered open slowly, and Christine was confused for a moment, before recalling where she was.

She looked toward the bedroom door and slipped out of bed, padding across the plush-carpeted floor in her bare feet toward the closet where her clothing now hung.

"Give me just a moment, please." she called back, and heard his footsteps as he walked away.

Christine sighed. What had she been thinking?

Last night when she wandered through the catacombs, it had been to find her teacher and apologize for leaving so suddenly that afternoon, not to strike up some new living arrangements!

Why had she been so frightened, so distraught, over the thought of not having him as her teacher? He was not an angel, but instead an imposter, a fraud, and the feared Opera Ghost, none the less! Wouldn't it have been better to have him out of her life? It wasn't as if there weren't other music teacher in Paris, and she knew that even if she couldn't afford them, Raoul would have been more than willing to pay…

Raoul!

She was to go a month without seeing him, and no explanation? He'd be frantic with worry for her!

This was such a mistake! What if this man, her "maestro", hurt her? What if once a month was over, he refused to let her leave. What if-

"Christine? Your breakfast is getting cold, child. Can't you hurry?"

Quickly wiggling into a dress, Christine opened the bedroom door and came face-to-chest with her maestro.

"Oh!"

"Ah. There you are. Breakfast, my dear?" he offered his arm with an almost shy smile, and Christine carefully took it, nodding.

Together, they walked through the house, and Christine's face flushed in shame as they passed the great, magnificent organ and she remembered how she had cruelly taken his mask.

Glancing up at him, she softened, and when they reached the small kitchen, she sat at the table and immediately began to speak.

"Maestro?"

Erik looked over his shoulder at Christine as he prepared her plate at the small wood-burning stove. "Yes, my dear?"

"Perhaps, since I am to stay here with you for such an extended period of time, you could tell me what to call you when you are not my teacher?"

Erik frowned and turned, placing her plate on the table and sitting down in the chair across from her. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, well if I'm going to be here all the time, there will be time during our lessons when you will be my teacher, but during the other times, we shall be friends, won't we?"

He nodded slowly.

"Well, surely you don't expect me to call you "maestro" all the time, do you?"

Chuckling nervously, he shook his head.

"No, I suppose not." he faltered, unsure if he could bear hearing his name fall from Christine's perfect lips.

"You may call me 'Erik'."