Ah, Rooklyn…you clever, clever thing! You hit on some interesting ideas!I had to put Erik and Christine back in the Opera House. It was just too tempting.The money issue will be addressed in the next chappie...

I just want to explain one thing that may not have come across in the last chapter. In my head, I was envisioning the escape happening at the rear of Erik's property. I should have clarified that. Raoul was stationed at the front gates…that is why he did not notice their escape.

Ok...a somewhat happier chapter this time...

-Nico


Erik slid from Madame Giry's bed, careful not to wake his sleeping wife and daughter.

He moved to the large mirror at rear of Madame Giry's room, praying that the mechanism that would slid the mirror open leading to the passageways within the walls of the Opera still worked.

It did.

Silently, the mirror moved, allowing just enough space for Erik to move through.

The air in the narrow passage was familiar; almost soothing. It was a dankness he was used to; a smell he all at once hated and adored.

Such memories were swirling in his head as he made his way deeper and deeper into the Opera House!

He could hear Christine's clear voice, singing along with the notes of some godforsaken opera.

He could hear the clang of his sword meeting Raoul's all those years ago.

As he reached the large lake at the bottom of the structure, his heart wrenched as he remembered Christine's face as she rowed away with Raoul.

Erik pushed the thought from his mind. She is yours, he mentally reminded himself. Yours and no one else's.

The last time he had returned to the area of the Opera Populaire that he had once called his home, it was in a terrible state of affairs.

This time was no different.

Even before the small boat he was rowing across the lake hit shore, he could see the disrepair…the result of a lack of human attention for the last seven years or so.

He stepped out of the boat, looking around slowly.

Why could he not escape this prison?

Why did he always find himself back here?

He sighed.

This was the safest place he knew of. He had managed to stay concealed within the boundaries of this lair for many years before Christine's voice dragged him towards the sunlight.

He rolled up his sleeves.

There was much work to be done.


Christine's eyes fluttered open.

For a moment, she remained still, trying to separate her sleeping thoughts from reality.

Her home was destroyed.

She was back at the Opera House.

Madeline was curled next to her, her little hands wrapped around her mother's arm.

Christine turned her head.

The bed was empty next to her.

She sat up quickly, accidentally waking Madeline.

"Mama…" she whined, rubbing her eyes.

"I'm here, darling…" She cooed. "Erik?" She called out, keeping her voice as low as possible.

"Papa left," Madeline informed her.

Christine snapped her head down to her young daughter. "Left? What do you mean, Maddy?"

Madeline yawned, stretching her arms above her head. "He went through the mirror," she said nonchalantly.

Christine looked over at the large mirror. "Oh, god, Erik…what are you thinking?" She said aloud.

"Maybe he went to get me some breakfast," Madeline offered. "My stomach is making angry noises. He probably heard it."

Christine smiled. How simple the world of a child was! How basic!

Suddenly, the mirror slid back open.

Erik entered the room, looking tired and dirty.

"Papa!" Madeline exclaimed, accidentally kicking Christine in her hurry to climb out of bed and into her father's arms.

"Good morning, Maddy," Erik said, stooping down to receive his daughter's hug.

"Papa…you didn't sing me a morning song," she accused, pouting out her bottom lip. "And Mama moved in the bed and woke me up." She tattled.

Erik smiled, smoothing his daughter's hair away from her still sleepy-looking face.

"I do apologize, Madeline," he offered, straightening up. "But I have a surprise for you to make up for it."

Madeline turned to face Christine, who had gotten out of bed and was standing behind her.

"Erik, what were you doing?" She asked.

Erik placed a finger to his lips, his tired eyes glinting just a bit. He took Madeline's hand in his and offered the other to Christine.

"Come," he said. "Come and see."

"Are we going in the mirror, Papa?" Madeline asked excitedly as Christine took her husband's hand.

"Yes, darling, we are," Erik replied. "It's an adventure."

He slid the mirror back open and allowed Christine entrance first.

He began to follow when he noticed Madeline had stopped walking.

"Papa…" she said, her eyes peering into the darkness warily.

"It's alright, love," he said, pulling her up into his arms.

"Your father wouldn't let anything happen to us," Christine added. "Although, I must say, I'm not thrilled about making this trip again."

"Again?" Madeline asked.

Erik and Christine exchanged a small smile.

Madeline remained quiet until the trio reached the icy lake.

"Oooh!" She exclaimed, wriggling down from her father's grasp. "Mama! Look! It's for swimming!"

Christine caught her by the collar of her small nightgown. "Oh no," she said. "This lake is most definitely not for swimming."

"Madeline, come here," Erik said, motioning to the small boat.

"A boat!" The child exclaimed. "I've never been in a boat!"

Erik smiled, happy that Madeline had a sense of adventure, and that the events of the night before had not sullied her temperament.

He lifted her into the rowboat and then helped Christine inside. Finally, he joined them, covering them with a blanket that lay in the bottom of the small vessel.

"I'm the captain!" Madeline said, jumping excitedly, causing the boat to sway dangerously.

"Sit down, captain," Erik ordered. "Otherwise this lake will be for swimming."

Madeline sat, but still bounced as her father rowed slowly across the lake.

Christine's eyes widened as they drew closer to where she knew Erik's home used to be.

As the large iron gates lifted to allow them access, she placed a hand to her lips.

"Look," Madeline breathed. "It's so beautiful!"

Indeed, it was beautiful.

Dozens of candles illuminated the lair. She noticed that Erik had placed them out of Madeline's reach.

They shone a soft glow on the area.

Christine drank in the sight.

Everything had been cleaned, furniture returned to its correct place. Christine could see the black sheer curtains that separated Erik's old bedroom from the rest of the home.

It looked almost as it had so many years ago.

"How did you…how did you do this?" Christine asked, her voice hushed.

Erik climbed ashore, offering his hand to help Christine out. "I've been busy," he replied.

She looked into his eyes, feeling as if she were back in time, back to the day when he had first brought her here…

To the day she had fallen in love with him.

He brought his lips down onto hers, a simple, loving gesture.

"Get me outta here!" Madeline interrupted, stomping her tiny foot inside of the boat and then falling onto her bottom in the boat from the resulting sway.

Erik smiled, reaching his arms out to his daughter, who jumped into them happily.

The moment her stockinged feet touched the ground, she was off, inspecting the area.

Christine made a movement to follow her, but Erik stopped her. "She'll be alright," he said softly.

"Look! A kitchen!" Madeline said excitedly, running about the surprisingly large living quarters. "And a bed! A big bed with…" She looked at the black satin sheets. "Black blankies." She finished, raising an eyebrow at her father. "I like pink," she informed him.

"Erik, when did you do all this? How did you put this together?" Christine asked.

"One I've learned is that the Opera Populaire is wasteful," he told her, placing a thickly muscled arm around her waist. "Most of what made this place so glorious came from the costume rooms…the prop storage…" he placed a kiss at Christine's temple, "and so it has once again."

Christine nodded, suddenly recognizing old fabrics and furniture from past productions.

"Of course, it is not finished yet…I shall have to procure us more items," he said, moving towards the empty space where a piano once sat.

He looked back to Christine, who was biting her thumbnail again.

"It isn't forever, Christine," he informed her. "Just until…things…are straightened out."

"I like it here," Madeline announced. "I like the lake and the candles. I want to stay."

Erik smiled. "And so you shall," he said. "For a little while."

He watched as Christine moved to wipe a smudge of dirt from Madeline's protesting face.

"Come," he told them. "There is much to be done." He lifted Madeline into his arms. "I'm certain Meg and her mother will be able to find you both something to change into…and I believe a bath is in order for someone."

"Yes, Mama," Madeline scolded. "You are very dirty."

"I was speaking of you, my angel," Erik told Madeline.

She looked at him, rubbing his exposed cheek. "Did you bring me here to become a dancing lady?" She asked him innocently.

Christine looked at Erik. "Wonderful," she sighed, ignoring her husband's laugh as they moved back towards the boat.