Erik demanded that Joanna sit down and tell him everything she knew of the Viscomte de Chagny and his wife, but the information would not be won so easily. "You are a wretched tease," he muttered under his breath as he followed Joanna back to where he normally sat. Though he knew there was no way that she could've heard his words, the girl glanced back at him and winked.

"I told you, I will trade you the information you seek for singing lessons."

"You had better have more information than simply his name, child. If you try my patience, your fate will be the same as that of the man in the dark," Erik hissed as he sat down. Joanna shrugged, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. For a moment, Erik thought he was looking into the face of his angel, his Christine, but the moment passed and he had to remind himself that she had escaped such a life. She lived above ground in a fine home with fine furniture and a fine husband. It was a life he would never have been able to give her.

"The sooner you help me get better at my singing, the sooner I will talk," she said simply. Erik sighed and gestured for her to give it a go. "Is there anything in particular you'd like me to sing?"

"Whatever comes to mind, let's hear what you're giving me to work with," he replied. The girl took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, balling her hands up into fists as she returned to that feeling of being on stage just hours before, in a place where she was accepted and not shunned.

"Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye," she began, and her voice brought utter silence to the crowd. Even Erik found himself in awe of the girl's talent. Whoever had taught her previously had been a wonderful tutor. "Remember me every so often, promise me you'll try. When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free, if you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me."

The girl stopped there, breathing hard. She'd tried her hardest to impress the man she wanted to help her, and she could see in his eyes that she had done what she'd set out to.

"You've got quite a lovely voice already, Joanna," Erik said after a long moment, "Where did you learn to sing?"

"Well, I was a chorus girl at the Opera Populaire, as I told you, but I'm involved now with a theater company funded by the viscomte. He visits often during rehearsals, and he's taken a particular liking to me," Joanna blushed as she spoke of Raoul. She'd felt him staring at her and she'd recognized that look in his eyes. She'd seen it in his eyes before, when he'd looked at Christine at the opera.

"Does Christine ever come to the rehearsals?" Erik asked, a little more eagerly than he intended to. Joanna frowned at the name and shook her head.

"No, of course not, are you daft? She doesn't even approve of the theater. She threw a fit when Raoul told her about it and managed to injure herself badly enough to keep him home taking care of her!" Joanna was practically snarling by the end of her little rant.

"What?" Erik asked, his voice small, almost child-like, "Christine's been injured? Is she all right? What did he do to her?" Joanna could see the anger in his eyes even as he seemed so scared.

"She's gonna be fine. I think he's going to bring her one night once the show opens. Which is in one week, so let's get on with this lesson."

"Patience, child," Erik snapped, glaring at her. Inside his mind, Erik was a tumultuous sea of emotion, his thoughts were racing so fast and so loud that he was certain he was about to lose his tenuous grasp on sanity once more. He lowered his head into his hands. "Sing it again, but this time I want to hear only your voice. I don't want to hear any of the background noise coming down the tunnels. Fill the space with your music."

Joanna opened her mouth to protest, but Erik raised one of his hands to stop her. "And I don't want to hear even one foul note. I've already got a headache."

"But I can't do that-"

"Then you are wasting my time and the time of anyone who would hear you sing," Erik snarled, glaring up at her. Joanna took a few steps back, her eyes wide in shock. "Well? You're on in a week. If you need the lessons so desperately as you claim, you best start practicing!"

The girl took a shaky breath and began singing, her voice immediately cracking. Erik chuckled darkly. "Can't even keep your nerve up, yet you're willing to play with fire."

Joanna closed her eyes tight and took another deep breath.

Christine took a long bath after Raoul finally left her alone. As she'd hurried down the hall to the bathroom, she could've sworn she heard Raoul crying in his bedroom. She felt no sympathy for him.

Once she was safely locked in the bathroom, she drew herself a nice hot bath and undressed herself, fighting the urge to look at herself in the mirror. She knew she wouldn't like whatever she saw there. Instead, she stepped into the tub and let herself sink into the nearly too-hot water.

What am I to do, she thought as she lay there, letting the water scald her. She knew the water would cold before too long, so she told herself she could deal with the heat. It was the same thing she had begun to tell herself about Raoul. He would be calm again soon enough, so she could put up with the angry, violent outbursts. She had to, after all. The alternative… she shook her head, knowing that she couldn't leave him. She had nowhere to go, no money to fall back on.

She would rather endure abuse disguised as love than cast herself out on the streets, where she'd have to take up the same profession of the other women on the street. She shuddered at the thought.

Raoul sat at the edge of his bed for a long time in the dark, his elbows resting against his knees, his head in his hands. He couldn't believe what he'd done. He couldn't believe that he continued to make the same mistakes, continued to take out the same anger on his wife. She didn't deserve it, he knew that much. She deserved so much better than him. He wanted to be the man she deserved, he really did.

Maybe another time, months ago, he would've been able to give her what she needed. Now he felt ashamed to even occupy the same home as her.

Under any other circumstances, the quiet knock at his door would've gone unnoticed, but Raoul heard it and leapt from where he sat. "Yes?" he called as he strode over to open the door. As he opened the door, he found himself face to face with Christine, wearing a dressing gown and a towel wrapped around her head. Before he could react, she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, hiding her face against his chest.

"I'm so sorry, Raoul," she whispered, "Please, I just want us to go back to how we were. I don't want to fight you anymore. I can't take it."