A/N: Greetings everyone! I'm back (and exhausted)! I have spent the last week hiking around the wilderness. I must confess that I didn't find much time to write, but I did get one chapter out inbetween sleeping and dragging my butt up and down mountains.

First of all, the title of this chapter is a lyric from one of my favorite songs: On the Turning Away by Pink Floyd. I thought it was fitting. Second, this is another filler chapter. Not one of my best. I'm not too pleased with it (really I have felt an absense of inspiration as of late - I attribute it to stress and a certain "fever" that overtakes people this time of the year) but it is necessary to keep the story moving. Things will start to pick up after this.

In this chapter Christine continues to struggle, uncertain if Erik is alive or dead. Poor girl. She wants to believe that he is coming for her, but starts to believe the worst as the miles continue to separate them.

So here you go. Sorry I made you wait so long for this. ~J

Chapter Thirteen – Light is Changing to Shadow

The earth rocked slowly from side to side, swinging like a pendulum. Its steady motion lulled Christine into a state of comfortable calm. Back and forth, it continued evenly on, so much that she was reluctant to leave her peaceful slumber.

Lazily she opened her eyes and stared at the gray ceiling. The ugly paint covered metal with big thick rivets that held the seams together. The world continued to rock around her. Although the rhythm had placated her during her sleep, she became aware that she was resting on something hard and unforgiving.

She sat up sluggishly and looked around. The metal expanded to all sides of her, covered in the same ugly paint. There were no windows and only a small oil lamp that hung on a hook illuminated the room in a faint yellow gleam. The glow rose and faded with the swaying motion. There was not much to see in the dim light; an old stand with a wash basin, a rickety wooden table with the paint flaking off in some areas, and a chair made of the same shabby material. In the center of the tiny room an iron bed took up most of the space.

Perplexed, Christine attempted to stand but the soft clink of metal stopped her progress. She looked back in the direction of the bed where she discovered the two manacles that Daniel had taken from the livery stable earlier in their travels. They had been shackled together, one secured around the bed post and the other fastened around her ankle.

Her blood turned to ice. What had happened?

She carefully raised herself up as much as she was able and peered over the rail of the footboard. Daniel was sprawled on his stomach, his arms and legs spread out around him, one foot dangling off the edge of the bed.

Placing a hand on her chest, Christine tried to calm her mounting panic. She took deep breaths in order to stave off the dizziness and waves of nausea. Her head began to pound and when she raised her hand she felt a large bump at the base of her skull.

The last thing she remembered was her reaction when Daniel had informed her they were taking a ship to England…

The dense forest had finally dissolved and they rode into a bustling port city. Although Christine had been compliant for most of their journey, she had resisted physically when Daniel told her they were leaving the country.

What little hope she had that Erik would find her was dashed and she knew that she could not allow Daniel to put her on that boat. She dragged her feet and pulled against him with all of her weight, all the while kicking and screaming. Afraid that she might start attracting the attention of the people around them, he yanked her behind the cover of a few large crates that lined the dock. Before she knew what he was doing, a blinding pain shot through her head, making her eyes feel like they would burst from their sockets.

Now she had awakened to find herself sitting on a cold floor, chained to a bed in a small room on a ship bound for England, with a man whose intentions she knew nothing about.

The enormity of her situation caught up with her and she started to weep silently. How would Erik find her now? She wrestled with the fear of not knowing whether or not he had survived the collapse of the roof. Surely after three days he could have caught up with them. But if he was that far behind, how would he ever know that she was being taken far away from France to a country she had never been to before.

The knowledge that she might not see Erik again plunged her into despair. Overwhelmed, she let her tears fall freely, no longer caring whether she woke Daniel up. It seemed to her that tragedy followed her around, lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce and destroy any contentment at the first sign of happiness.

First it was her father, whose death had plunged her into a depression only the Angel of Music could heal. Next was Raoul, her lifelong childhood friend and confidante. Even though her love for him never equaled what she felt for Erik, he had always been there for her in her time of need and she found herself missing his comforting presence. She wondered guiltily if Erik hadn't reappeared in her life if Raoul would still be alive. But she stopped those thoughts as soon as they formed. Regret would get her no where. She'd had no control over Daniel's actions. Erik's involvement was just ill-conceived timing.

Finally there was Erik, whose loss was perhaps the worst of all to bear. Her sorrow had been great the first time she thought him dead. But it in no way compared to the torment she felt now, not knowing his fate. She felt as though a piece of her had died along with him. She shuddered from sobs and remorse as she contemplated the fact that she and Erik had at last expressed their feelings about one another openly, and she had been ready to explore those feelings. She had felt sure enough about them that she could have willingly surrendered herself to him that night of the dinner if it hadn't been for his resistance.

Another wave of grief crushed her as she thought that now there wouldn't be a chance to start a new life with him at her side. Like Raoul, she never had the opportunity to say goodbye. Even more, she had not been able to tell him she loved him. He left this life thinking there was no hope, his greatest dream which was to have Christine as his wife, unrealized.

A muffled groan jolted her from her thoughts as Daniel turned over and wiped his mouth. He pushed himself into a sitting position and ran his hand over his messy hair as he looked down on Christine.

"I see that shut you up," he said pointing to the manacle. "Teach you to cause a scene like that again."

She returned his gaze, glaring up at him from the floor with contempt.

"This will never work," she assured him. "You cannot keep me shackled here all day without someone noticing. I will scream so loudly the whole ship will coming running and then you'll be ruined!"

His retribution was swift as he leapt off the bed and smacked her cheek with his hand. Grabbing her forcefully by the shoulders he smiled as he whispered, "Scream all you want dearie. The captain and his crew have been informed that you are suffering from a rather high fever due to falling through thin ice while on a holiday in France. Naturally you are prone to certain hallucinations and they are to ignore anything out of the ordinary. They have been instructed to leave us alone until I call for them."

Deflated but refusing to let him see her cry, she cowered away from him.

"Why?" she asked in a small voice. "Why the charade? Why take me to England? What could you possibly gain from having me around? What do you plan to do with me once we've arrived?" She fired her questions at him rapidly, but he just sat there with a smug smile on his face.

"I know of a gent in Liverpool that takes pretty young things such as yourself and sells 'em into slavery. I gotta get my money outta ya somehow."

The color drained from her Christine's face but Daniel continued on, enjoying the reactions he was getting from her. He could not help but twist the proverbial knife.

"Don't look at me like you don't believe me! There's a big market for this sorta thing, especially for men wanting a little variety in the bedroom."

He bellowed with deep laughter as Christine's eyes closed and she swayed. He made no effort to help her as she crumpled over on the floor.

"Just as well," he said wiping the tears from his eyes. "I didn't feel like feeding ya now anyway."

XXXXXXXX

The next four days were more of the same. Christine remained shackled to the bed, only being released when absolutely necessary. She relished those moments when she could stand up straight and stretch her legs.

True to his word, no one ever came down to inspect the room or check with Daniel to see if there was anything he needed. Her meals were brought to her. Although she found herself envious of Daniel whenn he went above to retrieve them, she was grateful for the few minutes alone.

She tried her hardest not to sink into self pity, but the utter hopelessness of her situation made it almost impossible. She would dwell on what would happen to her if Daniel was telling the truth, that he intended to sell her like an animal to satisfy some wealthy man's lust for flesh. She worried so much that soon she lost her appetite.

After two days of not touching the food that Daniel placed in front of her, he lost it.

"Eat, God damn it!" he roared as he kicked the tin plate closer to her. "Or so help me I'll shove it right down your miserable throat!"

When the ship finally docked in Liverpool Christine was weak from lack of nourishment and full of trepidation. Daniel took hold of Christine in a vice like grip and led her down the gangplank.

A black brougham loomed ominously before them, pulled over to the side of the road where it was out of the way of traffic. The sight of it was like a black cloud and it stuck fear into her heart.

Daniel wasted no time as he guided her over to it. He placed a hand on the small of her back, giving the outward appearance that he was a loving, doting husband when in reality it was to assure Christine that she would have no chance of escape.

She gave no resistance as he led her to the brougham. She swallowed the dread she felt as he opened the door and ushered her inside. He quickly jumped in after her, sliding in the seat next to her to block the exit. Overcome with repulsion by his closeness, all she could focus on was trying to put as much distance between them on the small seat as she could. In doing so, she failed to notice a small barge had pulled into port behind the Josephine and that a man in a mask was slowly leading two horses down the ramp.

XXXXXXXX

Because the barge was lighter than an ocean liner, it was able to make the distance in a shorter amount of time. For this, Erik was exceedingly grateful as it docked in the port of Liverpool a mere half hour behind the giant vessel.

The timing couldn't have been better. The boy had been right when he said the conditions were less than favorable. There was barely enough room for him to move between the large crates stored in the cargo hold. Because he was traveling with two horses, the journey was almost unbearable, since he was stuck in the bay along with them.

Never being the type to stay idle for long, Erik soon grew restless and irritable, and he would be glad when he could set foot on dry land again. He didn't enjoy the feeling of helplessness he experienced while trapped on the boat, unable to do anything productive.

When they docked he felt that frustration grow deeper when he discovered all the passengers from the Josephine had already disembarked. The familiar murderous rage settled in the pit of his stomach, urging him on.

Erik slowly unloaded the horses, grumbling to himself. He would have the unsavory task of asking the residents who lived near the port if they had seen any whereabouts of Christine or Daniel.

Black thoughts were churning in his mind as he led the two horses down the ramp. He was so caught up in his vengeance that he nearly missed a glimpse of Christine being shoved into a brougham. Daniel leaned out and slammed the door shut. Erik noticed a large crest with the letter 'B' in the middle. His fingers tightened on the reins as he watched it lumber away.

The sound of his footsteps echoed loudly behind him as he ran down the dock with the horses in tow. He saw a man crossing the street and quickly lunged forward, catching him by the shoulder. The man turned around in alarm.

"I beg your pardon!" the man said indignantly. He was tall and well dressed in a black suit with dusty brown hair and a moustache of the same color. His arrogance denoted an aristocrat. Surely he would know to whom the crest belonged.

"Forgive me Sir," Erik said apologetically. Knowing the man was agitated enough, he automatically slipped back to the etiquette that was beaten into him as a child. It would do no good to anger this man further, thereby eliminating his chances of finding the information that he so desperately needed. "Do you know whose insignia that is?" He indicated the coach as it drove off in the distance.

Staring vulgarly at the mask, the man could not tear his gaze away. Then suddenly, as if remembering his good breeding he met Erik squarely in the eyes, his lips curling into a sneer.

"Charles Braithwaite," he replied as a look of distaste crossed his features. "He owns the burlesque house in the red light district."

A small knot of fear began to stir in Erik's stomach. "Can you tell me where I can find him?"

Against his better judgment the aristocrat chose to ignore why a man in a mask would be searching for a person of such questionable character. Giving him directions he hastily retreated, eager to distance himself from the stranger.

With new purpose, Erik secured the Arabian horse to the back of Cesar's saddle. He jumped on and grabbed Cesar's reins, pointing both horses in the direction of his love…and his prey.

A/N: God, Daniel's a prick...I love it! Muah ha ha! Don't worry, I won't wait as long this time to let you know how it turns out!! ~J