THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR REVIEWS! Wow seriously, you made this week so much better and man has it been a stressful one as I not only have to move out of my current place, find a place, and move in to a new one! But I succeeded and even made sure to make time to update. Really, everyone, I had no idea people liked this as much as everyone says they are. Please keep telling me your thoughts and keep me involved with your questions, likes and dislikes. I read them all and take all of them into consideration when writing.

In this chapter you'll get to see the differences between Christine and Erik's thoughts when reflecting on the same situation. Plus some more flashbacks!

Disclaimer: If I were Gaston Leroux and owned POTO, I wouldn't have had to move out, find a place to live, and move in within a 6 day period. Wew my life is insane.

Chapter Fourteen

Winter 2011

"Fancy hearing from you, Erik. We all were under the impression you were dead."

The fat man in the corner of the room laughed with a raspy voice after speaking. On either side of him were two men holding machine guns. These were the very guns Erik had crafted ten years ago and unbeknown to them, each one had a mechanism that if triggered would render them harmful only to the person pulling said trigger. To Erik, the technology was as simple as flipping a switch, though he had yet to come across anyone else to have figured it out.

"Wouldn't that be convenient?" Erik spoke so quiet that the other man motioned to another man to turn down a record player in a far corner of the room.

Crossing his fingers with one another and setting them on the table that separated the two men, he spoke again, a fine cigar now hanging from his mouth, "Now what good would that do me now that you are useful again?"

"Useful, but only this once."

"Perhaps, perhaps. What have you got for us, Erik?"

Erik motioned with only his index finger, not taking his eyes away from the other men. Khan came up from behind him and placed an old tattered suitcase in front of him. Without looking at the case, it opened for Erik. The room fell silent, anticipation hanging in the air.

"Is it finished?"

"Completely," Erik replied.

"Prove it."

Not a second passed before everything around them went pitch black. The men started to cry "Sir! Orders!" unsure of how to proceed.

"Silence!" The man yelled over them, trying to hush a few coughs that came from his over used throat. Nothing in the room moved beyond the heavy rise and fall of lungs. "How long will this continue, Erik?" The man spoke low and clearer than he had been.

"As long as you like."

"And can you turn it back on?"

"On your command."

"Now."

And the lights were restored. The buzz of vibrating phones began to follow in different patterns as they restarted. The man locked his eyes with Erik's.

"We'll take it."

Summer 2012

Days began to pass both Christine and Erik by. A routine even set in and, if anything, that made things far more tolerable to Christine. Every day she was wake, take a shower, join him for a fancy breakfast, have a cup of tea to clean out her throat, then proceed to music lessons. And what lessons they were! Once she had caught on to his different way of writing and scales, she could feel her voice grow inside of her. After some days, she no longer needed his voice to guide her, she spirited away on her own feeling full and free and sometimes even happy.

Once he felt confident enough in her to move her on to songs they started with what she already knew. Notes were given here and there, his temper stayed in check, and to her relief, he refrained from touching her. She knew it whenever he wanted to, though. There was something pleading in the back of his eyes to do so and she always looked away from this. After this he were merely continue with where they had left off.

After the lesson they would have a mid afternoon lunch. He let her make it herself and she was very agreeable after this arrangement was made. She never made anything special, usually something consisting of a sandwich, a piece of fruit or vegetable. For three days straight she requested Cup-O-Noodles for both of them. He never ate, but encouraged her to keep her breathing up to par, and even gave in to her challenge of seeing if she could hold her breath out longer than he. After three days of becoming frustrated with him, he refused to give her anymore opportunities until she could be a good sport.

The afternoons would be spent reading. A few times Erik offered to let her watch a movie, but she declined having remembered what happened the last time she fell victim to this. And so, they read. She learned more about different forms of theatre. It was her secret way of connecting with Raoul, where ever he may have been. She even, in the most protected places in her mind, imagined talking about all that she had read with him, hearing his thoughts on it all. She hoped that after all of this, if it ever were to end, that at least they would still be able to have some normal conversations here and there.

Erik would always serve her dinner. She accepted this as his way to make up for not having given her lunch. Every meal was superb and came from all over the world. They would chat a lot about other places in the world. It was one way that Christine could get him to speak. He spoke of different counties as if they were all stories and it mesmerized her enough to stand his company longer and longer each day.

Sometimes dinner would last so long into the night that Erik sent her to bed, saying that even he was tired from such excitements. Other times he would let her sit where she pleased as he went to attend to other things. She enjoyed the ability to be alone in somewhere other than her room and even as she always felt he was somewhere watching, it still gave her a bit more ease than at other times in the day. Even as she loved this time, she found that whenever he went to the music room, that after not too long of a time, she would find herself drifting closer to the sounds.

Depending on how the day went would decide on whether she went inside the room or not. One one such occasion where she felt the day had not been so good, she sat outside of the room to listen until she got so tired that she had to leave. While she was certain he had not seen her, she couldn't help but take a look over her shoulder when she heard him whisper, "Goodnight, my love." When this happened, she no longer found it taboo and sighed in response.

Then there were other nights where his music claimed the best of her. On these nights she found herself inching closer to him as he played quietly. She would always started at the door, as it was always open for her. Sometimes she would sit down in the opening, not wanting to give in any further, but other times she would venture to the couch. That night, his songs were so lovely and sweet and she never recalled making it back to her room, only to wake up there the following morning. The following evening she stayed in the doorway and made sure to fight the music enough to see herself to bed. Still, she had to admit it to herself, the longer she was in his world, the harder it was to fight anything anymore.

Hello...again,

It's me. As usual. I'm still here. I don't know if I should be surprised by this or not. Everything has become normal for me here. The last entry I wrote would be the same as this one if I hadn't started to dream again. Today has been more awkward that the last ones have been. I guess it's my fault. I don't know. It's the dream. I walk through a park that changes to a different park with every new person that I see and every night I get a little farther with all of the people and parks I visit. On the first night there was Clearance and his son. They were talking, and I could tell his dad was working really hard to get a little smile from his son. It worked too. I waved at them and they waved back, but then they look behind me and run away. I woke up before I could look too.

Then there was the receptionist that I met on one of my birthdays. He was standing with a little blonde girl that I thought could have been me, but I couldn't be sure. They were at my favorite ice cream man's stand outside Central Park. The ice cream man waves me over and is about to scoop me out some mint chocolate chip on a sugar cone when he drops the scoop, looks behind me, and starts to run the opposite direction.

Lastly, Raoul is laying on some grass, a blanket under him and a baseball is being tossed up and down. Meg practices her leaps and when she messes up he laughs at her. They see me and motion for me to come over. The sun is so bright I can almost feel it on my skin, but then I see a shadow come up behind me and take the entire park in darkness. Raoul and Meg's faces fill with fear and they motion for me to come with them. My feet are motionless.

Finally I can look around to see only devastation. All of Manhattan is in flames. The smoke covers the sun and it reminds me of 9/11. People are running everywhere and all of them look familiar. The strangest part is that there are no sirens. No cars are moving. The only sounds I can hear are the crackling of fire, glass being broken, and people, my friends, screaming.

There was a flash of light that travels from far away and comes closer to where I am, but I can't move. It looks like a rocket and is coming for everyone. It is then that out of nowhere a tall man dressed in fine black clothes comes to me and wraps his arms around me in protection. The lights comes so close that it blinds me for a moment. The next moment everyone was dead.

Christine put her pen down and tried to wipe all of what she remembered away.

"Are you feeling alright, Dove?" he asked quietly from his chair in the study.

"I'm fine." she lied.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he offered, care in his voice.

"No."

"Some tea, then?"

She finally looked at him, interested in having something soothing come to her. Turning away again, she nodded.

"I'll return in a moment."

And with that she was alone for a time, but she couldn't forget it all.

She had woken up screaming, the images of blood over all her friends could almost be seen in darkness of her room, the sound of a bomb exploding still hanging in her ears. The only sound that could be made out above the explosion was the screaming: her screaming. Even worse, the only thing that could sooth her into tranquility was him.

Not even minutes could pass before she found herself being scooped up into his arms and crushed to his chest, her entire body held by him as a child would hold their only comfort. More astonishing to her was how easily her arms found their way around his neck, how natural it seemed for her body to fit so seamlessly against his, and how safe she felt now that someone held her as close as he did then. She sat in his lap, sobbing onto his shoulder as he ran one hand through her hair, keeping the other hand wrapped around her back.

And nothing was said from either party. Christine simply cried and cried until she started coughing which made her pull away from him. When she looked up again, she saw a shimmer of gold specks from his eyes in the dark and remembered herself with a gasp. He placed one of his large long hands over her cheek, past her ear, and through her tossed hair, stopping just behind her neck. Then, even as she pushed against his hand lightly to move away, he brought her close enough for the top of their foreheads, just where their hairlines began, to touch. Her breathing was audible, but she still heard him say, "Even when you cry you're beautiful."

"No I-I-I don't want this." She stuttered, feeling his hand take a slightly tighter hold on her hair.

"What do you want, dove?"

She saw him shut his eyes when she looked up, "I want everyone to be safe."

"From what?"

"I don't know." she whispered, "Something terrible."

Pulling her back into his arms so that her head lay on his shoulder he spoke almost into her hair, "You need not worry, pet. Everyone will be fine. You dream of the wrong scenarios too often."

Trying to move, but being stopped by his hand on her head again, she mumbled, "How do you know what I mean? How do you know…"

"Hush now, dove, hush hush and I'll sing for you. You'll like that, won't you?"

"But Erik," she struggled against him again, only causing him to readjust her on his lap, "All those people, my friends, everyone-"

"A dream my dove, only a dream."

"Erik-"

"Hush," he cooed above her head, already beginning to hum something wonderful and sweet. The music wrapped around her like a nice blanket, filling her with warmth and peace. She relaxed easily, letting the full weight of her head fall on his shoulder, taking comfort in the soft strokes his fingers left on the sensitive side of her skull and neck, even leaning into them a little. As the song tapered away, so did she, but even his music couldn't take away such a sickly feeling that the dream left in her gut.

Why did I hold onto him like I did? Why did I feel like I needed him as I did? I don't need him do I? Do I? No...I need the outside and my friends, and everything that I used to know before him. Raoul...poor Raoul, I couldn't ever let him know how easily I let myself be taken into the arms of Erik is my fear. Dear Raoul...What are you even doing right now? Are you thinking of me at all? I know I wasn't the most interesting or fun, but you must miss me for something.

And without anyone, I am so alone. I've started to crave even his attention just to avoid the empty feelings. I need more than this. But how can I ever… Will he ever let me out? Have I not done good following his timeline and plans for me? I have improved my breathing far more than what my last music teacher ever thought I could do! What would it take to get another cup from Erik? I don't know...I don't know.

Erik returned with the tea and set a full tray of items before her: fine china cups, a matching little pot, saucers for the cups, and a small bowl filled with English style biscuits. He poured her some searing hot tea into a cup.

"The tea is sweet on its own. It is from a mixture of berries found in Kenya. Very rare, but I wanted to see if you liked it."

Picking up the cup and saucer she replied, "Thank you."

Of course the tea was good. Everything he made for her was good. She had two cups and three biscuits before allowing herself to address the elephant in the room. Sometimes during tea she would ask him to join her and depending on how well his day was going, he would comply, but only for a few sips. This is why it surprised her to see him taking sips from cup when she finally looked up to him. She didn't say anything, not wanting to make a scene of things, but he knew what she was thinking.

"I enjoy this tea, I admit. There are not many sweet things I prefer, but something about this draws me. And you have become so content with our tea time that I cannot help but want to be content with you. Does it bother you?"

She heard a small quiver in his voice on the question, even as he tried to mark it off as a casual conversation. Looking up to him and answering honestly she replied, "No, it has never bothered me. I don't know why it has ever bothered you."

"On the contrary, I always enjoy my time with you, really, with anyone who might not be bothered, but you see my dove, I tend to bother many many people."

Taking pity on what he meant even as he spoke so casually, she spoke clearly, "You don't bother me Erik."

Erik sighed in relief and there was a moment of peace between them as they finished their tea. Erik poured the remainder of the tea into Christine's cup for her and before she could bring it up to her lips he stopped her, "Wait, pet." She watched him bring his cup up to his lips as well, keeping eye contact on her the entire time. "Are you ready?"

Catching his meaning her eyes widened and she brought her cup to her lips, ready for the challenge.

"Let's see how well my training has been for you. Three," let the rest of her current breath go, "Two," she took in air steadily, filling up all her lungs without a rush, ready for a proper fight, "One."

Their eyes locked, but they were only listening to one another then. She did not feel her breathe giving out for a long time, longer than what she had started with, but after thirty seconds or so, Erik merely stopped blowing and took a sip of tea. Christine froze, "Erik couldn't you hear me? I was still going."

"Ah then, it appears I lost." he noted casually, but then looked up to her reaction.

This took her a moment to process, she knew that he could have gone longer, but he did not for some reason, "But if you lost then?"

"I suppose I will have to take you outside."

Shock covered her face and her jaw dropped. Before she could ask he told her, "Yes really."

"When?" She blubbered out.

"Tonight."

All afternoon Christine was day dreaming of the outside world, what it would smell like, feel like, what temperature it would be, if it were raining or not, if there would be anyone around and if she would do anything. Where would they go? How would she dress? What did "tonight" mean anyway? Late night? Early evening? There were so many unanswered questions. During the afternoon, he caught her staring at him.

"Yes, dove?"

Catching herself she looked down, embarrassed, "Sorry, I just, when are we going?"

"After dinner," was his solomn reply.

"So when is dinner?"

"The same time it is every night." He had returned to his reading and she hushed herself for a time looking between her knees, the fireplace, her feet, the coffee table, her hands, to his knees, the coffee table, his shoulders, his feet, and once reaching his face, she found him looking at her once again. Quickly shying away she curled up into a ball with a book that she didn't remember the title to and tried to hide her blush. Shuffling a few pages of his book, he returned to supposedly reading with a grunt. Not wanting to push his attentions any further, she kept her eyes to herself, knowing full well he was not reading his book that afternoon, feeling a need to read her instead.

Knowing that he was watching her closely for her reactions, she did what she could to hide her smiles, to silence her giggles. Dinner was a rushed affair. She knew that he would not let her up until she had finished at least half and even that was a struggle as she was so excited that food was the last thing on her mind. He sat beyond her, his eyes now cold, an untouched glass of red wine in front of him. When she had finished she looked up to him hopefully, trying as hard as she could not to outright ask him, but as time passed, she pleaded, "Well? Are…" she felt fear from him look at her, "are we still going?"

"Tell me Christine," he stood and walked over to her and she felt very small in her chair as he towered over her, "You wouldn't be thinking that you could accomplish anything idiotic, would you?"

"I…" She knew what he meant and it had crossed her mind: finding Raoul or Meg, running in general, finding anyone. She had even laughed of the possibilities in her mind and caught herself earlier. She swallowed, "What do you mean, Erik?"

"Perhaps I shall make things clearer for you pet," He closed the distance between them so that he was nearly touching her chair. She shivered, knowing better than to run away, but wanting to all the same, "If you so much as take a step out of line, I will catch you very, very quickly. And if I have to take such measures, I will drag you back here and tie you to that chair." He knelt down so that his eyes met with hers, one of his hands on the table, the other on the back of her chair, "Now tell me pet, will I need to cage you further do to some ill planned scheme you've been plotting this afternoon?"

Her answer was immediate, "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," A whisper.

"Good." he patted her head and she fought back anger over such a degrading action. "Now get some real shoes on. And a light jacket. Go."

He turned his back away from her as she darted away to her room for what she would need. Erik began to make the necessary security procautions for their departure, making sure that they would be completely alone where ever they went. He was only such a high level of importance with people that when he required something, they had to stop what they were doing and meet his needs. Securing a small, heavily wooded park in New Yersey would be easy.

The smile on her face was not hidden from him as she returned wearing just what he instructed. Having not seen her wear this jacket before, he stared a little while as she crossed over to him in the study. It was a thin brown leather that buttoned once in the front just below her breasts. She wore the same fitted purple T-shirt that she had been wearing throughout the day beneath it. Gray slacks were her pants of choice and the shoes she chose were...for running.

Anger welled inside of him and he quickly turned away. He could hear her stop suddenly from a few feet away.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"Going for a jog, pet?" He seathed through his teeth.

A pause and some shuffles of clothing, "No," was her slow reply, "Why would you…"

"Of all the shoes you could have chosen, and there must be at least fifty in there, you chose running shoes!" He turned around and she scurried behind his reading chair.

"I..I like these shoes." She whimpered.

"Change them or you stay!" He boomed.

He didn't miss the small collection of water in the tips of her eyes as just before she ran away. How long would this continue? How much longer would this torture persist until the day where they could walk contently outside without the fear of her running off? This was her fault, not his! If she would give in to him, as she had done that morning, everything would be different. They could move to the place he had been building and start over as he had been planning for them to do. No more prison like conditions in a hole. Just a normal, simple life, with a loving man and his wife, contented with music and sunlight and happiness.

The thought of that morning sent a shiver down his spine. He had been up late reading in the study, the wall between them opened as he recieved a little thrill whenever he heard her speak in her sleep. In the past month he had learned a lot about her when she sleep, her unconcious flow of honesty in her lips was intoxicating. When there were stressful days for her, she would speak more. Recently, she had been saying people's names. Someone named Clarence came up a few times. And of course there was Meg and Raoul, who came up much more than he would have liked. Erik's name would be mentioned as well.

On this particular night all kinds of names were being said one after another, as if they were lined up and she had to greet every one of them. He wasn't aware she could know so many in her entire lifetime, let alone remembering all of them in one night was impressive. Once the names had stopped her breathing picked up. He found himself at the doorway, intruiged by this dream. Then she began to cry, at least, a sleep cry, which was a series of whimpers.

"No no no no," she cried over and over.

Her feet began to twitch and her breathing picked up. He took this for running. A little yelp escaped her and her feet were stilled.

"Erik?" she whispered.

He perked up off the wall and took a step forward. Her voice was laced with fear, but it was clear, she had said his name. He was somewhere in her dream. Her breathing seemed to stop for a second and then, "ERIK!"

That was when her screaming started and he ran to her, pulling her up into his arms. Once awake, she looked at him, tears gracing her eyes as she studied his features until without warning, she clutched his neck and shoulders as if it were for dear life and burried her head into the side of his neck, letting her tears fall freely as she sobbed and sobbed.

This had caught him very off guard. Usually, once waking up and realizing it was him, she would always, without fail, push away, but now something had changed her and it was something terrifying. Instinct took over for him as he wrapped his arms around her shaking body, pulling her closer to him, stroking her back his long hands, and quietly hushing her.

"I'm here dove, I'm here. Nothing is going to hurt you now."

"Everyone was dead! They're all dead!" was all she said before breaking into further heaps of sobbs.

He took the back of her head in his hands and held her with his head resting atop hers, "It was all a dream dearest. No one is dead. It was all a bad dream my love."

She started to cough and he allowed her some air. Looking up at him again he could see that she had come back to her reality and try to pull away, but she didn't fight so much once he pulled her back to him. He told her all that she needed to hear to feel safe again and eventually sang her to sleep. She was so beautiful then, sleeping so carelessly in his arms. Even when she was crying, she was beautiful. He hadn't remember if he had said that to her or not. It didn't matter. They were together now, just as they were supposed to be. And she had fled to him.

Things were changing. She was changing. Their time together was paying off and he was slowing winning her over. He wanted to do something for her, something that said he was listening. The outing was a result of that. She had came to him and now he would go to her on her level. This was what she wanted most and he knew, but the thought of her leaving him was unthinkable. The idea that she would even try to take off was too much for him to stand. There was no way she could outrun him and reach any of his security team beyond the park. Still, it was the thought that drove him mad with rage. He would not lose her and definately not now.

When she emerged from her room, her eyes were downcast and her shoes had been changed. They were laced up slippers and would only be suitable for walking. He could see her toes wiggle around uncomfortably within the tips of the shoes. This was much better.

"Are these better?" she asked timidly.

"Much." Was his short reply.

There was another pause and she moved uncomfortably, "Are we still going?"

"You remember my terms?"

"Yes," she was remarkably quiet, "I remember your terms."

"Will I need to remind you of them later?"

"No...I'll remember them."

"Smart girl," he clicked, "Follow me."

Winter 2011

The fat man in charged motioned to one of his men and the man brought forth two suitcases, both in the same ugly condition as Erik's. He opened both of them. to reveal stacks of new bundled money.

"Your terms," the man said, "Seventy-five million dollars, all in cash."

"And my deal." Erik stated.

"Yes, your deal. And what might that be?"

"Garenteed safe travel to Canada before the end of 2012. I do not want to be caught in the middle of this and you will not start until I have secured my exit."

"That's easy enough. Just you and your man?"

"No. A few people and no one I am will to disclose with you at the moment. I will contact you with a name and a country. You will send them there immediately and with no questions asked. Is that understood?"

"Of course. So we have a deal?"

"Yes."

Khan took the suitecase over to the man and he could have drooled over the new present. Another man brought the two suitecases full of money before Erik. When Khan returned he shut the suitecases and took them from the table.

"I hear you are not a man to shake hands, Erik. How are we to secure such a deal?"

Erik was already standing with Khan by his side. "Believe me, you break this deal, and all of these men will know."

And with a dramatic snap of his fingers, every gun in the room fired a single bullet. He knew most of them, being in holders, would only create flesh wounds, but his point was clear: he would be in control.

Honest question: Do you think Christine will try to run away at the park? Ye or nay? Because I still have to write the chapter and am a bit on the fence myself...