Title: The Devil We Know

Summary: Christine Daae is the daughter of a recently deceased mafia boss. Suddenly, she finds herself toted as an up and coming gang leader, learning from the Phantom, a man who is feared by even the most powerful in the field as a notorious hit man. Will Christine find the strength to carve her own path, disregarding both darkness and light? Raoul's in it too. I guess.

Disclaimer: Phantom isn't copywritten any more, is it? I don't know. But the book belongs to Leroux and the musical belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber. Regardless, Erik, Christine, and Raoul aren't my original characters.

Author's Note: Sorry this took so long. I'm finally back in California and out of college for the summer, but then I forgot what the next chapter was supposed to be about. Good thing I talk to Sara about this stuff and she can remind me. This chapter should be called "Everyone picks on Nadir," because that's really what it's all about.

Chapter Thirteen: Now and Then

Christine searched blindly around the dark, wet area, hands grasping out in hopes of finding something. The liquid surrounding her was warm and slimy around her ankles. Her groping hand met with a curved wall made of damp bricks that stretched up higher than her head. She strained her eyes peering up into the abyss of darkness above her.

Strange water spewed from an unknown source and the surface rose slowly to mid-calf as she patted her way around. Her stomach sank in terror when she realized the brick wall enclosed her in a full circle.

She ran her fingers along the mortar trying to find crevices to use as climbing holds, but she only succeeded in clawing frantically at the slick walls. Her ribcage heaved from exertion and panic, eyes wild in the darkness. The water was up to her knees now and disgustingly lukewarm.

There was a screeching, scraping of rock overhead and a shaft of weak light illuminated the area. Her fears were confirmed: she was at the bottom of a well with a heavy, stone slab keeping out the sun. She glanced down at her legs. Reflections of the light created tiny flecks of white against the dark red liquid encasing her up to the thighs. Blood.

She turned her face upward and squinted. The circular opening of the well looked straight up into an overcast sky. A silhouetted figure leaned over the lip of the well, staring down at her. The only distinguishable feature from the shadowy head was a patch of white gleaming on the right half of the man's face. A wave of relief washed over Christine as she stretched up her arms and yelled, "ERIK! I'm stuck, get me out of here!"

Surprisingly, he made no move to help her. She waited for him to drop a rope or get a ladder, but he remained in place, peering down at her without expression. The wet lapping at her stomach told her the blood was still rising. "If you're mad about earlier, we'll talk about it! Just help me!"

Still no response. Christine flailed her fists, hitting the surface and sending a splash of blood up to hit her face. Disgusted, she choked on a drop of the coppery liquid, gagging at the taste. The blood was rising faster now, easily climbing passed her chest and up to her collar. "Erik! Hurry!"

After staring at her a moment longer, he turned and disappeared from her line of sight. As the blood continued to creep higher, Christine watched the stone lid slid slowly back over the circle of light. Craning her neck up as far as it could to keep the blood from overtaking her mouth and nose, Christine cried desperately for help. She must have yelled his name through frightened sobs countless times before the blood quietly slipped over her head.

She couldn't breathe.

Christine jolted awake so violently she fell out of bed, legs and arms tangled in her sheets. When she frantically struggled to free herself from the blankets and sheets, she only managed to get more tangled in the cloth. Finally, she went limp and curled up into a ball on the ground. Burying her face in the blankets, she cried long, stomach heaving sobs that racked her body.

"Christine?" Erik cautiously opened the door to check on her. "You yelled my name. And that thud-"

He caught sight of her balled up on the carpet and quickly rushed over to her, dropping to his knees beside her. Kneeling over her, he helped unwind the bedding from her limbs, murmuring to her, "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Don't touch me," she whimpered, despite the fact that she was turning toward him as if she wanted to be held. He wiped her eyes with the corner of his shirt sleeve and easily placed her back on the bed. When he turned to pick up the fallen blankets, her hand darted out to intertwine with his. He glanced down at their interlocked fingers and then met her eyes. Her lips trembled as she whispered, "Don't leave. Don't go."

Sighing tiredly, he had to stretch out to full arm span with his free hand to avoid letting go of her while retrieving the blankets. After a few failed swipes, he finally had to use his leg and foot to drag the sheets closer before he could reach them with his free arm. He snatched the sheets and managed to spread them back over her with one hand as she clung to the other.

Once she was tucked back into bed, he knelt close to examine her with concern. "Honestly, you love making me worry. What would I do if you reopened your stitches?"

She closed her eyes and a pained crease appeared between her eyebrows. Her grip on his hand tightened as she murmured in a confused, sleepy voice. "There was so much blood. You left me in the dark. I couldn't breathe and you just left me there."

Her hurt, halting words cut him deeply and he wrapped her hand in both of his, pressing a kiss to the tips of her fingers. "I would never leave you, Christine. It was just a nightmare. You have nothing to fear from darkness."

Tears welled up in her eyes as he kissed her hand again, holding it tightly in his grip. She didn't reply and after a moment, he said in a tentative voice, "You know, when you were little you wouldn't go anywhere alone when it was dark. Your mother had to hold your hand to walk you down the darkened hallway to your room."

"Most children are afraid of the dark, though. That's natural. There's an instinctual fear of getting lost in that darkness and never escaping." He paused, making sure she was still awake before he continued slowly, "I was afraid of brightly lit places. Mirrors. Anything that would allow me to be seen."

She didn't open her eyes as she breathed, "Erik, I love you. But I don't understand you. I don't know if I'll ever be okay with killing. I just start thinking about the people getting hurt in this stupid power struggle and wonder if there could have been a different way of dealing with it."

"Christine," he started in a firm voice. "Killing is a necessary evil in this business. Your mother knew it. Your father knew it. I'm mad as hell that neither of them taught you about it, but it's too late for that now. I have years of experience working as a mafia man and hired killer. I know the proper way of dealing with scum like Carlotta."

"And what makes you any different from them?" Christine demanded, opening her eyes and fixing him with a glare. "If Carlotta is scum, what does that make you? What does it make ME?"

"It's not about who has the better morals, Christine. This is about power and survival," he reached out a gloved hand to brush a strand of her thick, brown hair away from her face. "I'd gladly be known as a demon if it will keep you safe. I've killed for stupider reasons than to protect the woman I love."

Her heart thudded loudly in her chest and her cheeks warmed under the intensity of his hooded gaze. He leaned closer to her, eyes fixed on her full, enticing lips. Christine's thoughts buzzed around in her head like a swarm of bees, all darting away from her as she tried to latch onto one.

His lips were an inch above hers when she shook free of the magnetic desire ladling her brain. But even as she opened her mouth to protest, he brought his lips down upon hers. Her words turned to a muffled moan as his tongue swept passed her lips, his hand caressing the side of her face lightly. When her moan ended in a whimper, Erik retreated, resting his forehead against hers.

"I can't forget that easily, Erik," she breathed heavily, acutely aware that his mouth was still hovering close to hers. "Kissing isn't going to make me any less confused."

His eyes searched hers for a moment before he sighed and forced himself to his feet. "I thought you were taking things too well. You need time to accept what you've learned. My offer still stands: take over for your parents or liquidate your share of the business and disappear to lead a normal life."

A surge of sadness overwhelmed her at the idea of never seeing him again. How could she think of leading a normal life with any other man after knowing him? Her very soul gravitated to his, drawn by passion the likes of which she'd never felt before. Love and lust were too weak to describe the jumbled mass of emotions they shared.

"I will love you whatever you choose." He turned and strode decisively out of her bedroom. The door shut behind him and she hid her face in her pillow to smother any sobs that might escape as she cried.

Christine finally managed to fall back to sleep a few hours later, exhausted from crying and trying to sort out the madness of recent events. She meant to wake up when her alarm clock went off at 8 AM, which would have given her about four hours of sleep.

When she woke up on her own at 11 AM, she groggily looked at the clock only to find it flashing 12:00 in digital numbers. Either there had been a power surge or someone had unplugged the clock. Her bet was on Erik unplugging the clock to make her sleep longer. Truthfully, she needed the rest after her mental breakdown, but still, coming into a woman's room while she was asleep to mess with her things? Not cool.

Grumbling under her breath, she heaved herself to her feet and padded downstairs in her pajamas. She found Nadir sitting on the couch in the living room. He glanced at her when she approached. "Morning, sunshine."

"Go fuck yourself, Nadir."

"OUCH!" he placed an open hand over his heart and sent her a hurt expression from behind his sunglasses. "You're a cruel mistress, Boss."

She failed to look apologetic and he shrugged, going back to his game of Solitaire. "That's fine. It's not like Erik didn't tell me worse before he stormed out of here this morning. I can only imagine what happened to put both of you in pissy moods. I mean, sure, Erik's always a crazy bitch, but you're generally a stable, happy person."

Sighing, Christine rubbed at her eyes and asked, "So he's gone already?"

Nadir moved a card to another stack and ventured, "Yeah, he said something about having business to take care of. I never really ask what he does for work these days. He's always going on about having stuff to do, but you know what? I think he just shoots cans for target practice out in the boonies or some shit like that. Maybe builds giant models out of Legos. Like a scale model of the Deathstar or a life-sized bust of Chewbacca. Real intricate shit."

"You've put a lot of thought into this…" Christine eyed the bald man warily for a moment before sinking into the recliner nearby. She leaned back and threw her arm over her eyes.

Nadir peered at her over his glasses and asked, "So, what's got you in drama queen mode today?"

"I just can't get over what he did, Nadir," she replied. "We clearly agreed on one person, and that was bad enough, but thirty? What kind of person can kill thirty people like it was nothing?"

"A damned good hitman?" Nadir offered, but when she sent him a glare, he reworked his answer. "Look, Christine, I know you don't want to hear this, but Erik handled the situation masterfully. One death might not have been enough to convince Carlotta to give in. It could have dissolved into a series of back and forth attacks with more people killed in the long run, including innocents."

Christine grew silent, pondering this new opinion, when the phone rang in the kitchen. She retrieved it and saw on the caller I.D. that it was from the police department. Frantically, she carried the wireless phone back to Nadir and hissed, "It's the police department! What do I do?"

He raised one eyebrow at her as he flipped over a card. "Answer it."

"What?" she demanded. The phone continued to ring in her hands.

"Answer the phone and act normal."

Clearing her throat, Christine held the phone to her face and said in an extremely cheerful voice, "Hello! This is Christine!"

The person on the other line responded hesitantly, taken back by her high pitched tone. "Yes, hello Miss Daae, this is the city police department. We are calling about the incident that took place in your house about a week ago while you were out of town."

"Out of town?" Christine parroted, confused. "Which incident are you talking about?"

"The murder, of course," the police officer replied. "A man named Joseph Buquet was murdered in your front room. We couldn't get a hold of you, so we called your business. Your assistant provided us with your alibi and all the necessary proof of your innocence."

"Well, that's good to know. Then why are you calling me?"

"The city still needs to ask you a few questions. Purely procedure, I assure you, but we need verbal statements on the record from the home-owner. So, if you aren't busy today, you can come down to the police station and we'll get this whole ordeal squared away."

Christine placed her hand over the mouth piece and squeaked at Nadir, "They want me to come down to the station!"

"Then we'll go," Nadir grinned as she fumbled with the phone before returning it to her face.

Christine asked in her best business voice, "When should I come in?"

The police department was designed in a symmetrical layout inside a large, rectangular building. When they arrived, a policewoman at the front desk led Christine back through a door while Nadir sat next to a small coffee table and read a copy of Cosmo Girl. As she followed the officer into the hallway, Christine wondered how Nadir was going to help her if something bad happened. However, Nadir seemed perfectly content to thumb through the pages of interviews with teenaged boy actors, so she tried to forget her fears while the officer chatted at her politely.

The hallway opened out onto an area littered with desks and people working in uniform. The receptionist officer led her toward a door further toward the back of the office area and Christine followed her closely, not wanting to get sidetracked by all the activity. They were halfway to the door when the officer stopped abruptly, almost causing Christine to collide with her. Apparently someone had called the officer's name, and she turned toward the interruption.

Raoul was hurrying across the office, darting around desks in his haste to reach them. His wide, blue eyes were locked on Christine as he made his way toward them. "Mary, I got this one. Routine questioning, right?"

"Ah, Raoul," Mary, the officer Christine had been following, smiled at Raoul, hesitantly. "Are you sure? Don't you have something more important to be doing?"

Raoul eyed Christine as a lopsided grin spread across his face. "Yeah, no problem. I was about to go home early anyway. This gives me a reason to work more."

Mary handed Raoul the clipboard with paper on it and nodded to Christine before walking back the way they'd came. Christine turned to Raoul, who was flipping through the papers on the clipboard. He opened the door to the back room and held it for her as she entered.

The walls were white and blank inside the room and the only furniture was a single table and two chairs placed across from each other. Christine stood near the table as Raoul shut the door. "So they finally got a hold of you, huh? The department's been trying to find you since Buquet's death."

"Why didn't you tell them where I was?" she asked, moving out of the way when he walked passed her to sit at one of the chairs. "You knew I was at Madame Giry's."

"Not my place to say. You aren't my case," Raoul scooted his chair in after sitting and gestured for her to sit in the empty chair. "Have a seat, Miss Daae."

The cold, professional tone with which he said her name sent a shudder of foreboding down her spine and she crossed her arms with forced indignation to hide her reaction. "I'd prefer to stand. I was told this wouldn't take long."

"Suit yourself," he tapped his pen against the clipboard and grew silent as he stared at the paper. Finally, he dropped the clipboard to the table and folded his hands together as he stared up at her. "This report is a waste of time. Let's talk about something productive, shall we?"

Christine arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. Raoul pointed at her for a moment before touching his chin in thought. "Thirty people were murdered two days ago out at the docks."

"So I've heard." Christine fought to keep her face free of anything but polite worry.

Raoul stood up so quickly his chair scraped on the floor from the movement. "Don't act like this is news to you, Christine! I saw the aftermath; the whole crime scene was practically TAGGED by your Phantom! He even left his lasso around a dead man's neck and hung him from the ceiling fan."

"Don't be absurd, Raoul. The Phantom hasn't killed in nearly 15 years, why would he strike again without any warning?"

"Exactly. The Phantom hasn't done a hit this large and messy since September 18th, 1991. Sixteen years ago, he massacred over fifty members of a rival gang on orders from Elizabeth Daae." Raoul leaned forward across the table, hand pressed flat on top of the clipboard. "It was a bloodbath. And it seems like he only goes out of his way to kill like that when a woman orders him to. A very special woman."

Christine's hands slowly curled into fists that trembled with the effort it took not to slap Raoul across his boyish face. "Do you like your job?"

This question took him by surprise and he gave her a confused look. "What?"

"Your JOB, Raoul. Do you enjoy being a cop? Do you enjoy the living it provides you? How about your father? Does he like being the chief of police for this city? Yes?" Christine stepped forward to slam her open palm against the metal surface of the desk. Her curly hair fell over her shoulders from the action and she growled, "Then I suggest you stop slandering my loved ones with this stupidity and do your job properly! I wasn't called in here for this and I'll make sure your superior knows about it!"

"There's no reason to stick up for someone like him, Christine!" Raoul reached for her hand but she slapped it away. "He's a monster. He doesn't know what love is, even if you think he does. He's just using you-"

Christine strode to the door and paused with her hand on the doorknob. Without turning around, she said in a deadly calm voice, "I won't forget how you treated me when I was in your territory, Raoul."

"Christine, wait-" Raoul hurried around the table to stop her, but she slammed the door shut in his face. By the time he caught up to her, she was standing safely behind Nadir in the waiting room and he hesitated when the bald man glared at him over his sunglasses. Steeling his resolve, Raoul took a step forward only to have Nadir shake his head once in warning and move directly between them.

"Alright, that's enough for today. If you still have questions, feel free to contact Miss Daae's personal assistant." Nadir handed Raoul a business card as Christine slipped outside then followed her. She was standing a few feet away from the entrance, tapping her foot on the cement when Nadir reached her. She glanced over his shoulder irritated before sighing.

"Good, he's gone." Christine ran a hand through her thick hair, shoving it out of her face. "I can't believe that guy. Sometimes he's nice, sometimes he's a jerk."

"Cops. Damned if I can tell one mood from the next." Nadir walked beside her as they made their way to his car. Christine slid into the backseat while Nadir got behind the wheel. He draped one arm over the back of the seats and turned to address her. "Well? Home then?"

For some reason, her mind traveled back to her discussion with Raoul only minutes before. She could have easily turned Erik in for the murders, she was as close to a witness they would ever have for his crimes. And they wouldn't have to worry about her dying mysteriously before the trial. She would be surprised if he could bring himself to kill her even if her silence meant his freedom.

She loved him. How could she ever put him in danger? Betraying him hadn't even crossed her mind as an option.

And while she didn't agree with his frivolous killing sprees, Christine needed to understand him. The desire to know more about Erik's past was an undeniable part of her now. Why should she fight it when she knew she would inevitably return to him, hungry to share in his life?

Biting her lower lip, Christine buckled her seatbelt and said, "Let's go to Madame Giry's first. It's time I collected my things."

Thirty minutes later, Christine burst into her home, duffel bag full of clothes slung over her shoulder. Nadir shut the front door behind him, confused by her eagerness to be home. She charged up the stairs, nearly tripping under the weight of her duffel bag. Once inside her bedroom, she shut the door and tossed her bag onto the bed. Rifling through it, she found the diary and flipped through the entries.

Her mother had kept the diary for more than a year to fill up all the pages. Christine's hand stopped on the page labeled with the date, September 18th, 1991. Taking a deep breath, she started to read her mother's handwriting.

Elizabeth walked hurriedly out of the elevator into the fourth floor of the building. Taking a key out of her skirt suit pocket, she unlocked the door to Erik's apartment and stepped inside, her pretty high heels clicking on the floor. The tiles of the entry way, normally so clean they glimmered, were smeared with blood-stained footprints that trailed off onto the plush, white carpet.

A thrill of fear and excitement coursed through her as she followed the blood trail down the hall to Erik's bedroom. The door was slightly ajar and when she neared it, a black, gloved hand flung it open. She stood staring up at Erik, his mask streaked with rusty red blood.

Smiling up at him through her eyelashes, she stepped closer to him and brushed her hand across his left cheek. "I heard from my informant that you completed the hit earlier today. I'm so happy you did this for me."

He gazed down at her with dark eyes glazed with a shield of blankness. There was something in the hunch of his shoulders and purposefully empty look that reminded her of a caged, wild animal. He didn't respond, so she continued in a light, happy voice. "It really helped me out that you decided to attack the DeRosa's. They've been hounding me for months and they refused negotiations."

"Yes," he said finally, though every word seemed to be a struggle. "It was all you talked about."

"You don't say," Elizabeth leaned in and he stiffened at her nearness, hands at his sides. When her body brushed against his, a tiny tremor shook him before he control himself. "Now, for your reward."

She reached up to rest her hands on his shoulders, tugging him closer to press a kiss against his face, running a hand along his jaw tenderly. When she let him go and stepped back, she smiled up at him with sparkling brown eyes that made him weak. "You always take care of us, Erik. You're the only one I can trust in this world of criminals. Thank you."

She turned to leave and he followed her slowly. When they reached the door, he asked in a quiet voice. "Where is she?"

Elizabeth paused with her hand on the door and looked at him. He met her gaze without a hint of hesitation. The one subject he would not overlook. "Where is Christine? Is she safe? You didn't bring her here, did you?"

Frowning at the sudden change in demeanor, Elizabeth said, "She's at home with her nanny. Honestly, Erik! She's all you seem to care about these days. Should I be jealous of a four year old?"

He gave her a surprised look. "No. I just-"

"It was a joke," Elizabeth smoothed her shiny, curly hair while examining her reflection in a nearby window. She cast a critical glance his way and he reflexively fidgeted in place, rubbing at a dark splotch of blood staining his shirt. Despite their similar ages, she always managed to make him feel like a grungy, teenaged boy standing next to a beautiful, mature woman.

"For God's sake, Erik, clean yourself up." She sighed with a roll of her eyes. "How can you get so messy on a hit when you can kill the bastards just as easily with a gun?"

"That they die isn't important-"

"It's about how they die," Elizabeth finished for him, interrupting in a mocking tone. She smirked at him as she jerked open the door. "Yes, yes, I know your thoughts on the subject. You're just as sadistic as your mother."

He flinched as she shut the door. As soon as she was down the hall and on the elevator again, Elizabeth pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number. A woman's velvety, sweet voice answered from the other side. "Hello?"

"Maddy, this is Liz. I need your advice." Elizabeth watched the floor levels tick away as the elevator descended.

"What's the matter, love?" Madeleine asked, a slight tone of worry entering her voice.

"It's about Erik."

An instant coolness seeped into Madeleine's words, a dulled detachment. "What about him."

Elizabeth traveled down to the first floor and exited the apartment complex. Her black Cadillac waited in front of the building and she got in. "He's growing more distant lately. He jumps between extreme emotion- rage one moment, utter depression the next."

"Are you afraid he's becoming a danger to you?" There was a hint of deadliness in her tone, a sliver of promise. Elizabeth shivered as she realized Madeleine would relish the chance to kill her son. Madness ran in the genes between those two.

Elizabeth stared out the window as the car drove away down the street, considering how to answer. "I don't know. He's such a loose cannon… and he rarely says anything to me."

A clipped laugh escaped the ear piece. "He's never been talkative, Liz honey."

"He's only normal around Christine," Elizabeth sighed and leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the car window. "He sings and smiles. She's all he ever talks about if I can get him to say two words together."

After a moment of silence, she breathed in a shaky voice. "I'm worried for my daughter, Maddy. I don't know what to expect from him these days. I know he wouldn't hurt us, but-"

"Shh, dear," Madeleine spoke soothingly into the phone as Elizabeth drew in deep, ragged breaths to calm her nerves. "You knew this day was coming. What do you do with a tool that is no longer useful?"

Closing her dark brown eyes, Elizabeth exhaled slowly. "You get rid of it."

A knock on the door ripped Christine out of the diary's words. A tear ran down her cheek and dripped onto the paper, blurring the last word she had read. Wiping at her face, she shoved the diary under her pillow and cleared her throat. "W-Who is it?"

Nadir opened the door an inch and said, "I just got a call from Meg. She says we have to go to the club later tonight. There's someone Madame Giry wants you to meet. And Carlotta wants to meet with you."

Christine jumped up from her seat and opened the door. "Carlotta? Why?"

Nadir began to answer, then stared at her for a moment. "Were you CRYING alone in your room?"

"What?"

"Fuck. You know what? Don't worry about that bastard. He's not worth the tears," Nadir sighed and waved his hand in the air. "Don't start his emo-kid act too. One whiny bitch around here is plenty."

"What are you talking about?" Christine eyed him as if he were insane.

"Erik." Nadir replied, confused. "He is why you're crying, right? Because he won't have sex with you?"

Christine glared at him, her sadness melting into frustrated anger. "No, but thanks for reminding me. You're such an ass, Nadir."

"ME? I'm not the murderer with commitment issues!"

"He doesn't have commitment issues, you dick! He has INTIMACY issues! Now leave me alone. I have to get ready to deal with that bitch tonight."

"Erik?" Nadir asked, even more puzzled. "I thought you said he wasn't a bitch."

Christine grumbled angrily as she shut the door in Nadir's face. She took a shower and got dressed in a pair of form-fitting, black pants and a flowing, purple kimono shirt. The silky, butterfly print shirt wrapped around and tied in the back with black ribbons, the wrap around cut of the collar dipped low, revealing a hint of her black lace bra.

She applied her make-up and styled her hair with a mousse, leaving it down to fall in ample waves around her shoulders. About an hour later, she came down stairs in her black, heeled boots, slinging a purse over her shoulder. Nadir whistled at her and grinned lecherously. She would have taken his reaction as a compliment, if she wasn't sure he did this to every woman who walked in front of him.

Arching an eyebrow at him, Christine placed one hand on her hip. "Ready to rock?"

"Erik's going to have a heart attack when he sees you." Nadir laughed as they left the house. "The cleavage alone might be enough to kill him."

"I'd tell you not to ogle my breasts if I thought it'd change anything," Christine responded and climbed into the backseat of his car when he held the door open for her.

"You know me too well." Nadir shut the door and walked around the car to get in the driver's seat. "I always look at a woman's boobs before her face. It's just who I am. And you wouldn't want me to change for the world, right?"

"Just drive," Christine sighed, resisting the urge to rub her eyes for fear of damaging her make-up.

Madame Giry's nightclub was as lively as ever when they arrived. Customers were pouring in through the entrance and the door girls were busy taking coats left and right. Christine walked in confidently and waved away the woman who turned to her. "No, I'm fine. Nadir?"

Nadir removed his jacket and placed it in the girl's hands before they walked into the club. The crowd of people parted as Christine walked passed, head up and back straight. Her hair floated behind her as she made her way to the shadowy table in the corner that gave her a good view of the whole club.

She slipped into the booth seat affixed to the wall and crossed her legs with a leisurely movement. A foot away, Nadir leaned against the wall with his muscular arms crossed and scanned the crowd behind his sunglasses. Christine smiled at the picture of collected, professional mafia they made and flipped her hair off her shoulder. He smirked at her sidelong. "We bad."

Nadir offered her his hand and she slapped it lightly as she agreed, "We bad."

Twenty minutes later, Christine was sipping at a mixed drink when Carlotta arrived with Piangi on her arm. She locked eyes with Christine, who draped both arms on the back of the bench seat. Carlotta walked over to her, stopping a few feet away when Nadir moved between them. She nodded to Christine, a tired, pale look on her face. "Miss Daae. Good evening."

Christine assessed the older woman in silence. There was a tight, drawn expression on her face, making the tiny wrinkles around her normally sharp eyes appear even more pronounced. Wisps of gray were threading in through her hair at the temples and the lines of age around her thin lips deepened as she spoke. All these features should have been badges of experience and proof that she had led a strong life, but somehow they looked like telltale hints of weakness at the moment.

There was no way Carlotta was much older than Erik. What kind of life had she led that would have aged her this way?

"Thank you, Carlotta. Would you care to have a drink with me?" Christine gestured to the chair across the table from her. Carlotta nodded once, reluctantly. Piangi moved to hold the chair out as Carlotta sat gracefully.

A waitress came and took Carlotta's drink order before hurrying away. Carlotta turned to Christine. "Shall we get down to business?"

Christine inclined her head and took another drink from her glass. "Sure."

To her credit, Carlotta spoke with only a hint of irritation as she admitted, "I was wrong to provoke you. Obviously, you have more… resources than I do when it comes down to it. Put bluntly, your attack dog is both crazy and dangerous. I had forgotten."

One corner of her lips twitched as Christine fought to keep the smile from her face. "Attack dog?"

"Don't play stupid. The Phantom that wiped out half of my men at the warehouse two days ago." Carlotta replied brusquely. "That monster pretending to be a man."

"Careful," Christine warned in a friendly tone as the waitress returned with Carlotta's drink. "He's important to me. You don't hear me insulting your lover, do you? They're of the same profession."

"Piangi does not kill for fun-"

"And neither does Erik. He kills because people pay him to." Christine snapped before she could check herself. After a deep breath she leaned back in a gesture of forced calm and continued amiably, "That's not important. I spanked your ass and you're here to apologize. So, if you would be so kind."

Back straight and stiff, Carlotta clenched her teeth so hard Christine almost grimaced. "Yes. I… apologize for my disrespect. I've come to assure you that my allegiance lies wwith you."

At this, Piangi handed Nadir a thin, square box made of black leather. Nadir examined it thoroughly before opening it and offering the contents to Christine.

Inside the box was a cushion of fine, red silk. Nestled on top of the cushion was a stunning, elaborate choker made of platinum and diamonds. Christine almost shielded her eyes from the blinding light glinting off the multitude of diamonds woven together into a spider web design. A matching set of intricate, dangling earrings were pinned to the cushion on both sides of the necklace.

Christine glanced from the jewelry to Carlotta and back again, her mouth hanging open in shock. "What's this?"

"I forgot to give you a gift at your welcome party." She motioned to the box of glittering jewels. "This is both an apology and celebration present."

Christine closed the box and took it from Nadir's hands to place it on the table next to her. "Thank you. It's beautiful."

Carlotta smiled as she stood up slowly. "Well, I'm very tired tonight. Now that our business is settled, please excuse me."

She would have watched Carlotta leave the night club, but at that moment Christine was distracted by Madame Giry, who approached with another woman. "Christine, I have someone who would like to meet you. She is an old friend of your mother's."

The woman behind Madame Giry was tall and slender, a body was built for grace and speed. She had long, shiny black hair that fell in waves down to her lower back, her bangs swept back from her elegant face with a gold and ruby hair clip. The look in her piercing, dark eyes reminded her of someone, but she couldn't place the memory.

"Her name is Madeleine," Madame Giry stepped aside and the beautiful, older woman moved to offer her hand to Christine. As soon as the name left Madame Giry's lips, Christine remembered who she looked like. "Madeleine, this is Christine Daae."

"You're Erik's mother," Christine shook Madeleine's hand with a firm, decisive grip. An open, warm smile swept across Madeleine's face, confusing Christine. Based on the account from her mother's diary, Erik's mother was a sneaky, manipulative woman. However, she was currently radiating maternal affection and acceptance.

Madeleine watched Giry walked away across the club before she turned her attention back to Christine. "Yes… well, we all make mistakes, dear. I was young."

Christine was completely dumbstruck by her amused laughter and stared at her as if she were insane. "Excuse me?"

"I hear he's started taking jobs again. That has something to do with you, I suppose." Madeleine ran her hands along the wrinkle-free satin of her dress. She glanced at Christine's face to gauge her reaction. "Why are you gawking at me like that?"

"How can you speak that way about your own son?" Christine demanded, angrily.

Madeleine eyed her in contemplative silence for a moment, absorbing her expressions and emotional reaction. Finally, she shrugged sheepishly and ran a hand through her long, wavy hair. "Of course, you're right. I say these things sometimes, pay me no mind."

Christine sat uneasily as Madeleine slipped into the seat once occupied by Carlotta. She leaned forward to smile conspiratorially at Christine. "So, does my son know he has secured the love of a mafia boss? Like mother like son, I suppose."

"What does that mean?"

Before she could explain, a gloved hand reached out to wrap around Christine's arm and pull her to her feet, spinning her safely behind a familiar figure. Erik positioned himself between her and where Madeleine sat, Nadir was gaping at him in confusion. "What-"

Erik paid Nadir no attention as he glared down at his mother, one hand holding Christine by the arm, keeping her behind him. Madeleine stood from her seat, unfolding to her full height just a few inches shorter than Erik. She crossed her arms and tapped her long, purple fingernails against her skin as she ran her gaze from his feet to the top of his head. "Is this how you greet your mother after 15 years of absence?"

Madeleine shot Christine a look around Erik and said, "Be careful, Christine. If he can treat his mom this way, he can treat any woman this way."

Erik took one step over, cutting between them again. "What are you doing here? I told you never to come back."

"Erik," Christine winced slightly, his grip on her arm tightening as he glared at his mother. Her voice seemed to break his focus and he glanced down at her, loosening his hand around her arm and giving her an apologetic look. The distress and panic in his eyes compelled her to take action. "Excuse us, Madeleine. It's been a long day and I'd like to spend some time alone with my lover."

Christine pulled her arm free of Erik's hold before slipping her hand into his, intertwining their fingers. She then led him toward the front door of the night club without hesitation, leaving Madeleine with a stunned look on her face. Erik murmured in Christine's ear as they walked to the door, "What was she talking to you about? Why is she here?"

"I don't know," Christine replied in a whisper as she pushed open the door and exited out into the cool, breezy night. "She's a strange one. One second she was insulting you, the next she seemed all motherly and kind."

He frowned in thought. "That's her way. Keeps people off balance."

"Well, I don't like it." Christine let go of his hand to rub her hands over her bare arms, shivering in the nighttime air. The short sleeve kimono shirt looked amazing, but it was thin and offered little protection against sudden drops in temperature.

The sound of rustling cloth made her glance at Erik just as he finished removing his heavy, black trench coat. He held it out to her and she smiled shyly up at him. "Are you sure? You won't be cold?"

"What possessed you to dress like that?" Erik helped her slip her arms through the coat sleeves, turning up the coat collar to warm her neck. "It's hardly a shirt at all. I can see your bra."

"Hey! This bra was expensive. And it's not like you're dying to see me in it at home, so I figured someone might appreciate a look." She raised her hands up in a defensive gesture, the sleeves too long for her arms, falling over her hands. They stood a few inches apart, awkward in their nearness.

When she opened her mouth to blurt an apology, he did the same.

"Erik, I'm sorry-"

"I didn't mean to hurt you-"

They both snapped their mouths shut to let the other speak. They stood in eager silence, neither speaking until Christine finally broke the stalemate. "I'm sorry for last night. I've just been under so much stress lately… I know you did what you thought was best. I shouldn't have been so mean to you."

He reached up to brush his hand along the side of her face, but the glove kept him from feeling the softness of her skin on his. Frustrated, he brought his left hand to his mouth and used his teeth to tug the glove free of his hand. He then put his caressed her face again and reveled in the sensation of her cool skin on his warm hand.

Christine reached up and took the glove out from between his teeth and shoved the glove into the coat pocket. When she glanced up again, he ran a finger along her lips lightly before leaning in to cover her mouth with his. He spoke against her lips, "I didn't want to hurt you. I only want to keep you safe. When I saw you with her… just when I think I've protected you, another enemy shows up."

"I wish you'd tell me more about your life, Erik. I can't understand if you don't talk to me," she kissed him once more before resting her head on his shoulder. "This can't work if I'm the only one trying."

He buried his hand into her hair and kissed the top of her head, pausing to breathe in the scent of her. Expensive shampoo and powder mixed with the perfumed smell of her mousse mingled together in an intoxicating aroma. Over all of her scents, his distinctive cologne wafted up from the coat that she was wearing. With her in his arms like this, he found it easy to forget about his problems. She was his escape and his home.

"Erik?" He jolted, his eyes snapping open. He didn't remember closing them. She raised her head to meet his gaze with concern. "Are you okay? You look exhausted."

"I didn't get much sleep last night."

She arched an eyebrow at him suspiciously. "How much did you get?"

He looked away from her searching gaze. "None."

Before he could protest, she took him by the hand again and tugged him toward the parking lot. "Come on, we're going home right now. And I'm not letting you out of my bed until tomorrow morning."