Erik was in a bit of shock when she said that she wanted him to take her away. He had been a little surprised that she had come back without his interference in the first place. That? That pushed him to the point that he considered pinching himself because surely he must have been dreaming.

For two weeks they didn't talk about it. Any of it. They didn't talk about where they would go, they didn't talk about what had happened between them, they didn't talk about the fact that he had said he loved her. If she avoided the topics, he decided, he would too. It was still there, of course, hanging heavily between them but Erik found that so long as she continued to come back to him he didn't mind leaving it unaddressed. In all truth, he didn't honestly believe that she wanted to go away with him.

The Monday that he took her backpack from her and nearly threw it over his own shoulder because it was so light proved to him that he was wrong.

"I don't have a lot of things," she said nervously while he stared at the backpack in his hand. "And the other girls - they're gonna count on the hand-me-downs so I didn't want to take too much clothing."

"You're ready?" he asked, looking at her closely. He needed to hear it. He needed her to say it, otherwise he wouldn't be able to convince himself that this was anything more than just some sort of sick dream to tease him.

She shrugged. "I told Mrs V how much I appreciate her this morning and I told all the girls how much I love them and if I go back… I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

He gave her a single nod. His heart was thrashing relentlessly against his ribcage and he had no desire for her to be aware of that - he had never honestly believed that she would willingly come with him. He had decided to give her a month before he forced the decision for her. Now he was glad he had. It made everything that much easier, that much smoother. She would have hated him. It was all falling into place so perfectly that he honestly had trouble believing it himself.

"I will take you home," he said slowly, honestly having difficulty catching his own thoughts. "It will be a few hours - we will have no lesson today. I only have a few loose ends to tie up. You will call your Mrs V, ask her to stay with a friend again. Tell her that you will be home after school tomorrow. It will buy some time. If we cannot leave tonight we will in the morning."

He held onto her elbow. He wasn't sure why he did; she had never once refused to follow him. Maybe it was because he was waiting for her to change her mind. She didn't say anything - in fact, she was silent for most of the drive home aside from a few nervous sighs that she seemed to be using to fill the silence.

"Erik?" she whispered as he closed the front door behind them.

"Hm?"

"... am I making the right choice?"

He took the time to stop in the entryway, to take her face gently between his palms and look at her. If all she needed for reassurance was a little attention and some pretty words then he supposed he could offer it. "Of course you are, Christine," he said softly. "You'll see. I have not led you astray so far - I have broken no promises to you, have I?"

She shook her head and he used his thumb to tug on her lower lip - she always chewed it when she was nervous and it was a nasty habit that he was more than ready to break.

"I promise that you are making the right decision," he said slowly. "A songbird must sing - and sing you will, my dear, for the whole world. Your Mrs V will understand - she will be so proud when she sees what you become, when she sees what we create. Of course you are anxious - I can make you some tea if you'd like. It does seem to help you."

"I'm okay," she whispered. "I'm okay - I don't want to go to sleep. I'll be okay."

He simply leaned down and pressed the lips of his mask gently to her forehead.

Christine sat on yet another overstuffed leather chair in what he told her was his living room. He had lit a fire in the large white fireplace and given her the tv remote. The news was playing quietly in the background and she stared at the mantel.

Marble, she decided. It was white marble. The rug under her feet was intricate and foreign. She wasn't sure where it was from - it was the only pop of color in the white room filled with black furniture. She was almost glad that he was taking her away, that he wouldn't be keeping her here. Everything was too perfect, white, intimidating.

In those last few weeks she had thought about it a lot. He hadn't been so intimidating in that little practice room even though they had been completely alone. She had tried to imagine him sitting on the ratty couch at Mrs V's house. She decided he wouldn't be so intimidating there, either.

He was rich. That's what it was. She was uncomfortably aware that everything in his home was probably valued at a higher price than her life. It was like a museum and that was intimidating.

She didn't even have a sweatshirt without a hole in it.

Christine could hear Erik a few rooms over. He was muffled by the distance but he was talking - she was pretty sure he wasn't speaking English. Every so often he sounded really angry and she would burrow into the blanket she had, listening to his angry footsteps as he paced and hoping that he was on the phone and mad at whoever was on the other end of the line and not at her.

She wasn't sure how long she was in there alone for. The last thing she remembered watching was the news. When he walked into the room it was one of those late night talk-shows.

"No, no," he said softly as she rubbed at her eyes. "Don't get up, sweetheart. It's very late."

She blinked. Everything was always particularly blurred when she first woke up and his fuzzy shape was all she could make out. The fire had burned down low and the tv's glow didn't help at all.

She felt the warm rim of a cup against her lower lip. "Shh," he murmured. "Drink, Christine."

He hummed as she obeyed him, trying carefully not to spill any. The honey was soothing on her throat.

"Good girl," he murmured, setting the empty cup on the end table.

His fingers were cold on her cheeks. Her eyelids were impossibly heavy but she still felt his thin lips press to the tip of her nose and then, slowly, against hers. She felt too heavy to resist it. She wasn't sure that it was worth it. Instead she sighed, letting his fingers brush over her. They didn't travel any lower than her neck.

"Rest, Christine," he coaxed her, pressing one more kiss to her forehead.

This time, when the blackness overtook her, it wasn't entirely willingly.

Christine slept soundly in the passenger seat. Erik learned that she snored. It wasn't useful information but he enjoyed knowing it all the same. She was sweet and peaceful and snoring, her head leaning against the cold glass of the window.

He wasn't sure how long she would actually sleep for. Long enough that they would be too far away to turn around, he hoped.

He wondered if she would remember him kissing her. Part of him hoped that she had already been too far under to remember it. He would hate for her to think anything more had happened - Erik may have drugged her but he had never molested her. Not without her conscious knowledge, at least, he reminded himself. She had been so sweet in her sleepy state that he hadn't been able to resist just one kiss.

He thought that he could blame the deep fear that she would suddenly change her mind at the last minute for this particular drugging. While he had the means to, jabbing a needle in her neck was an entirely distasteful thought and it wasn't a memory that he was very fond of the idea of her having.

And, if he was completely honest, he hadn't wanted her to witness him attempting to corral Ayesha into the cat carrier. It was embarrassing enough without witnesses.

Ayesha yowled loudly and unpleasantly for the first two hours of the drive. They were the longest. Erik wanted nothing more than to reach back and open the door in the hopes that she would silence herself. By hour three she had settled down and the car was silent aside from Christine's snoring.

Christine didn't wake until the sun had begun to rise. She rubbed at her eyes and stretched. She looked out of her window and over at him and then blinked slowly.

"Erik?" she whispered, squinting at him.

He had forgotten that he changed his mask. His eyes were blue, his lips were full, his nose was perfectly average. He hadn't honestly considered the fact that she hadn't seen this one - it only seemed natural to shift his appearance. He always had when he fled before. "Of course, Christine."

At his voice she relaxed back against her seat with a yawn. "I'm thirsty," she complained.

He handed her the bottle of water that sat between them. "It's probably warm by now but we can stop soon. Does breakfast sound good?"

She nodded, opening the bottle and taking a long drink, looking out of the window. "Where are we?"

"I'm going to be completely honest, I'm not entirely sure myself," he answered, glancing over at her. "Passing through Illinois. You slept through the state sign."

"Oh," she said simply. Suddenly she looked toward him. "Will we see Chicago?"

It almost physically pained him to squash her excitement. "No, sweetheart. That's all the way on the other side of the state, by Lake Michigan. You will see Chicago one day, though, I promise. Chicago, New York, London - you'll see them all."

"Oh," she said again, looking back out of the window. "Erik?"

"Hm?"

"Can we go to Florida?"

"Is that where you want to go?" he asked, glancing over at her and the way she was curled up in the seat, her temple against the window while she stared out. He wondered if she was just trying to see it better.

"It always sounds so nice when people talk about it," she murmured, shrugging one shoulder. "I think everyone likes Florida. I've never seen it."

"It's very humid," he answered slowly. "It rains a lot. If you want to go to Florida, we can go to Florida. We can always move on if you don't like it."

She nodded and shivered. "I'd like that."

"Are you cold?" he asked, already turning the heat higher as he did.

"A little," she admitted, wrapping her arms around herself.

"When we stop for breakfast I'll get another sweatshirt for you. I think they're all back in the trunk."

Christine looked over her shoulder and blinked. "Is there an animal in here?"

"A cat," he answered. "Her name is Ayesha."

"... I didn't know you had a cat," she said, staring at the carrier. "She's really quiet."

"You wouldn't. She doesn't like people much. She tolerates me… she's a good companion," he said. He was glad that she was finally awake. He hadn't realized how much silence bothered him now that he had her around so often. "She yelled for the first two hours. I think she just finally tired herself out."

"... will she let me pet her? When we stop?"

"She might," he answered slowly. "She also might bite you. Don't stick your fingers in there - she hates being caged and she's probably particularly angry with me right now. But you can try later. When we stop for the night and she can stretch her legs a bit."

The hours and days started to blend together. Rest stops all looked the same and Erik seemed to have a fondness for small mom and pop restaurants.

Christine didn't see him eat much. He would order coffee and tap his foot nervously, one eye on the television screens that played the news. When he did order food he never finished it - he would pick at it and leave a nearly full plate behind.

She realized, somewhere in the second day, that she didn't have a phone anymore. She wasn't sure if she would ever know what he did with it. She didn't ask about it. The only person she had ever used it to contact was Mrs V and she guessed that she wouldn't be able to do that anymore anyway.

Sometimes he let her play with the radio. He would encourage her to hum along with it. Other times he asked her to turn it off and said that he had a headache. When that happened usually they would only make it another hour or so before he insisted they needed to stop. Fifteen or thirty minutes at a time, he would sneak off to the bathroom and he would come back far more cheerful and awake.

She was pretty sure whatever he was doing wasn't legal but he was always a lot nicer afterwards so she didn't complain.

Christine didn't really have many complaints other than the fact that her legs got cramped and usually they didn't stop until really late at night. Sometimes they would go to two or three different hotels before he decided he found the right one. She wondered if it was because of the way they were set up; there was always a door in the center between their rooms and he made her promise to leave it unlocked after he came over and checked the locks in her room. She was still pretty sure he didn't really sleep. Sometimes she could hear the television from his room and she could almost always hear him moving around. Sometimes she could hear him talking in another language. He didn't always sound angry but he usually sounded tense when he did. She knew because she hadn't really been sleeping either, even though she tried really hard. She didn't want to think about what he was actually doing, so she didn't. She just laid there silently and listened.

The cat was almost always quiet. She only ever heard it meow once or twice and she wondered if he gave it something like he gave her in the tea.

They were somewhere just inside of Tennessee when he came into her room late at night for the first time. She knew they were in Tennessee because she had seen the sign shortly before they stopped. He pointed it out to her just like he had pointed out the Kentucky sign. She thought he probably wanted her to be excited but she wasn't really sure what she felt. They were states away from home and she missed braiding Samantha's hair in the mornings. She tried not to think about it too much but she was pretty sure he could see that she was at least a little bit homesick. That was when he started pointing things out to her, like funny sounding street names and the animals in fields they passed. It helped a little bit.

He didn't say anything when he sat on the edge of the mattress. He just reached out and ran his fingers silently through her hair. When he kissed her she didn't try to turn her head, she didn't push him away or pretend to be asleep. She was pretty sure she knew why he was there; she didn't want to hear him say it. Something about it was almost comforting. It was familiar, at least. Just one small thing that hadn't changed; he still wanted her and even though it made her stomach twist with anxiety it was relieving.

"Do you trust me, Christine?" he murmured.

His breath was warm on her cheek and she nodded. His cold thumb dragged slowly against her cheek.

"Tell me," he pressed. "If you trust me then say it. Out loud."

"I trust you," she whispered. It was dark in the room and even with halfway decent eyes she was pretty sure she wouldn't be able to see him.

"Good," he said softly. His hand was creeping through her hair and he lifted her head gently. She felt fabric against her eyes - it was soft. "I'm going to do something for you, Christine. I trust you too. That's why I won't bind your hands. The only thing you aren't allowed to do is remove the blindfold. Can you do that, Christine?"

"Yeah," she breathed.

He hummed and pressed a kiss to her temple. "Of course you can."

He peeled the sheets back and she shivered as his hands traced over her. He was always so cold, so, so cold. She wondered if she would be as uncomfortable if his hands were warm.

She supposed she would never know.

At least his breath is warm she thought as he silently stripped her of her pajamas and kissed her bare skin. At least he-

The sudden sensation of lips closing around her nipple broke her train of thought as she gasped. She wasn't really sure if her hands on his shoulders were trying to pull him closer or push him away.

Stop thinking.

It was his voice that said it. She was sure that it was. His mouth was busy and she hadn't even felt a twitch of his lips.

The trail of warm breath left behind his cold kisses made her shiver as he worked his way down her body. She could hardly breathe; he held himself carefully over her but he might as well have been bearing down on her with his full weight.

It was when she felt his fingers slip between her legs that she tensed. He was spreading her open and she just knew that he was staring at her.

"Are you afraid, Christine?"

This time she felt his breath against her inner leg with his question and she shook her head, not trusting her voice to answer him.

"Then relax," he murmured, pressing a kiss just against her inner thigh. "I will not hurt you; relax and you will enjoy it."

He hardly gave her a moment to process what he had said before his tongue delved into that space between his fingers. She jolted at the sensation and his free hand forced her left hip against the mattress, holding her in place as his lips wrapped around the most sensitive spot of her body.

He was cruel. That was the only word she could come up with as he sucked relentlessly at the over-sensitive spot and all but ignored the terrible sound she made. Both of his hands were holding her hips now, pressing her firmly against the mattress so that she couldn't even jerk away from him like she had tried to.

Stop thinking, stop thinking, stop thinking. She couldn't get his voice out of her head and finally, finally, he eased up. She felt what she was pretty sure was his tongue gently rolling against her and it was much more tolerable.

His left hand moved, sliding inward against her thigh. When he slipped one finger inside of her her head pressed back against the pillow. She was fisting the sheets tightly and he didn't seem to mind it. A second finger quickly joined the first and she couldn't stop the contented mewl that escaped her. It felt good. The rhythm he had found sent a tingle up her spine and straight to her scalp.

He hummed and this time, when she moved, she rolled her hips toward him instead of away.

He took her apart completely. She shuddered, she gasped, and suddenly she understood the phrase "seeing stars". She was pretty sure she saw them.

He slid up slowly. She could feel everything, every movement of his hands and knees as he crawled up the mattress between her legs.

When he kissed her lips she actually welcomed it. She didn't feel the blunt edge of his mask digging against her skin and she thought maybe that was why he insisted on covering her eyes.

His knees pushed her thighs apart and she felt his hand sliding between them. This time, when he pushed his way inside of her, it wasn't nearly as painful. If anything it almost felt good.

She thought maybe if she tried to she could convince herself that this was at least a little romantic. Adventurous, at least. She could pretend a lot of things. If the tea she was sure he would bring her afterwards was mild enough maybe she could even believe them.

He was kissing her this time, at least. His lips were brushing against hers and his sleep pants were a lot less painful rubbing against her thighs than his jeans had been. When she pulled her knees up, just a little bit, she even gave a surprised squeak at the sudden new pleasure with the changed angle.

This time, when his breath shuddered and she felt that warmth deep inside of her, he didn't immediately pull away. He rested there a moment, his breath against her cheek. Eventually he shifted and kissed her, pulling out of her slowly and gently before he rolled off of her.

He eased her slowly into his arms, pressing a kiss into her hair.

"I love you," he murmured.

She swallowed and nodded. He didn't seem to mind that she didn't repeat the words.

"I'm going to leave this on, just a little while," he said slowly, his lithe fingers playing with the knot in the blindfold. "You sounded so sweet, almost like a kitten. Did that feel good?"

His voice was warm and soothing and she nodded, burrowing against his chest. For the first time she actually felt comfortable there, like she belonged. No one had ever held her before him and it was… nice. The way he rubbed her back and kissed her forehead was sweet. "What are we?" she mumbled.

"What are we?" he repeated softly. "You are mine and I am yours. That's all there is to it. My little kitten."

"You're mine?" she whispered, closing her eyes behind the blindfold and listening to his heartbeat as it slowly settled.

"Of course I am. That's how it works, isn't it?" he asked. He sounded so content at that moment. She had never heard him sound as calm and loose as he did just then. "Only a few more days, I promise. Then we can get out of the car, get back to our lessons. Do you miss our lessons?" She nodded and he hummed. "So do I."

She blindly played with the collar of his shirt and bit the inside of her lip. "I haven't been sleeping very good."

His thumb pulled gently at her lip and she finally let it slip from between her teeth. "I know… are you nervous?"

She shook her head and sighed. "Do you think, maybe, in a little bit - do you think you could make me some tea?"

He pressed his lips to her forehead, holding them there for a long moment. "Of course I can, kitten."