Christine awoke when the carriage came to an abrupt stop. She had no idea where she was or how long she had been sleeping. How could she be so foolish to let herself fall asleep! She could not tell which way was home. Even if she found a way to escape from this place, she had nowhere to run to. Without any bars, Erik had her trapped.

He came around to where she was sitting and extended a hand to help her out of the carriage. The rage she had seen in his eyes the night before was gone, replaced with guilt and sorrow.

"I'm sorry if I harmed you, my dear," he said quietly, not daring to look at her. "I wish things had gone more according to my plan, but you ruined that."

He saw the tears begin to fall down her cheek. He instinctively reached out to wipe them from her beautiful face, but she recoiled from his touch. Oh God what had he done! Surely she hated him for taking her away. But she would forget that with time. He would give her a new life and somehow she'd be happy. He'd make her see that he had done it all for her, because he loved her.

Christine climbed out of the carriage and looked around. He had brought her to a cottage somewhere in the countryside. She assumed that they were still in France, but she knew she couldn't trust her own judgment. Her heart silently called out to Raoul. Despite the hopelessness that she felt, she couldn't abandon faith. Somehow he would find her. She knew that even now he was plotting some way to rescue her. He would take her away from here and they would be together forever.

She stoically followed Erik into the small house. He spoke softly and calmly, trying to reassure Christine that she was safe. As he led her through the rooms, Christine realized that it was exactly like the first time he had taken her to the house by the lake. He used the same grand gestures, the same tone of voice. But he was not the same man that she had known then. Or maybe he was. Maybe she never really knew him at all.

"You can sleep in here for now," he said, opening the door to a sunny yellow room. A large wooden desk sat in front of the window. In the corner Christine saw an ornately carved armoire. There was a bare four-post bed beside her. Next to it stood a small nightstand with a single gold candlestick.

"Tomorrow we will go to the village and buy some food and clothes. We will have to leave early; the village is half a day's journey by horse," Erik said as he backed out of the room, leaving Christine alone.

Christine walked slowly around the room, running her hand along the surface of the desk. If she were here under different circumstances, it would actually be a rather pleasant place to stay. She loved the bright warmth of the room. It also had a lovely view; there was a field of wildflowers outside. Through the window Christine could see a large weeping willow tree. Weeping willow…Christine thought it a bit ironic. Erik entered the room once again, in his hands a down pillow and a large red quilt. He lay them down on the bed.

"I'll leave you to get some rest now. Remember, we must leave early tomorrow," Erik began to close the door behind him but stopped to address Christine once more, "Christine…this is your home now. Try to make yourself comfortable here."

Christine sat down at the foot of the bed and stared out the window. She stayed like that until the sun set and the moon had risen. She laid back and hugged her pillow tightly to her chest. In her heart she made a silent prayer that she would never again watch another sunset in that room.

They awoke the next morning before the sun had even risen. All night Christine had the most wonderful dreams. She dreamt of a life with Raoul, a life in a different time and place, a life in which they knew nothing of the Opera Populaire or Erik.

Christine was awakened by Erik's soft voice. He gently rubbed her arm, beckoning her to wake up. Christine quickly jumped up and backed away from him.

"Don't ever touch me. You make my skin crawl," she said coldly.

Her words stung Erik more than she could possibly know. He knew that it would be difficult at first. He had taken his beautiful bird and placed her in a cage. He only hoped that if he continued to show her warmth that the ice around her heart would melt. He longed for things to be as they were before. The late nights when she would call upon her angel and they would sing together, their souls joining in the passion of music. He had taken for granted how perfect everything was on those wonderful nights. If her knight hadn't rode in on his white horse, Christine would still have her Angel and Erik would still be the only man in her heart. Erik was determined to make her remember. He would make her see the man behind the monster.

Christine tied her black cloak around her shoulders. Black…the color of mourning. Christine mourned for the death of her soul, for it couldn't survive without Raoul. Christine straightened her shoulders and raised her chin, determined not to think such depressing thoughts. She would be free of this prison soon enough. She pulled the hood over her dark hair and opened her door. Erik stood there in the doorway, waiting for her.

"Are you ready, my dear?"

"I am not yours," she replied callously.

Erik held out his hand to her. She looked down at his black gloves and walked right past him. Erik's lips pursed, holding in the cruel words that threatened to roll off of his tongue. They walked out into the cold, hushed morning. Erik opened the carriage door, allowing Christine to climb in. Erik sat up front to guide the horses. An opening at the front of the carriage allowed for conversation between passenger and driver, but Christine refused to speak a word. Erik wanted so desperately to hear her voice, to see some faint glimmer of happiness in her face, but she was like stone. After a few hours on the road, Erik broke the deafening silence.

"When we get to the village, don't speak to anyone. If you see something you like, say the word and it will be yours. I won't deny you anything, my love."

"What about my freedom?" Christine asked quietly.

"You are free Christine! When we return to our home you can do whatever you wish. All I ask is that you stay with me."

"That place will never be my home," she said, her voice becoming louder and angrier.

Erik tried to hide the tears that fell from his eyes. He couldn't bear the bitter resentment in her voice.

When they arrived at the village, he once again attempted to help Christine out of the carriage. He was always disappointed; since he had taken her from the Opera house that night she wouldn't let him touch her. She silently followed Erik through the village. She looked almost like a stray dog that reluctantly follows strangers home because it has nowhere else to go. He went through the town to various merchants and bought food and some simple furnishings for the cottage. He offered Christine the most beautiful dresses and jewelry, but she refused to even look at any of them.

For days she would neither eat nor speak. Every attempt Erik made to change her mood was met with violent resistance. At night, he could hear her crying herself to sleep, but she would never let him console her. She spent her days sitting at the desk in her room, staring out the window. She would get a distant look in her eyes and it was at that time he knew she was thinking about Raoul. Erik often sang to her, trying to lure the girl he had loved at the Opera house to reveal herself once again. She would simply sigh and turn her back.

She was becoming dangerously thin from the starvation and grief. Her face was sickly and pale; dark circles were forming under her eyes. Erik cursed himself for letting this happen to her. But truly there was nothing he could do for her; she wouldn't allow it! Why wouldn't she let him help her?

One day Erik was passing by Christine's room. He paused to look in on her. As always, she was sitting in her chair staring out the window. The bowl of soup he had brought to her last night was still sitting on the desk. Perhaps she was too weak or too exhausted to throw it to the floor as she did with every other meal. Erik could stand the pain of watching her like this no longer. He approached her slowly, kneeling on the ground beside her.

"Christine, please don't do this to yourself," he pleaded, pulling her hair from her eyes and over her shoulder. "Let me make you happy. That's all I want. That's all I've ever wanted…someone to love."

She turned to him and gave him a weak smile. "I want to go home, Erik."

Erik gave a resigned sigh. She had asked him for the one thing he couldn't offer her. If she gave him the chance, he knew he could convince her to stay with him. She would choose to stay there willingly because that was where she belonged.

"Promise me this, my love. You will live here with me for a year. You will give me a real chance to make you happy. If you find after that time that you would rather return to the Opera, I will gladly take you back," he said earnestly, looking deep into her eyes.

Christine nodded slightly. "Thank you, Erik."

Upon making the agreement, Christine's appetite returned to her and she felt the pain of an empty stomach. She picked up the spoon that lay in front of her and began to eat the soup Erik had prepared, not really caring that it was now cold.

Erik stood in the doorway and watched her eat, smiling to himself. He wasn't worried about taking her back to the Opera Populaire. He finally had the opportunity to make Christine love him the way he loved her, and this time no one was around to interfere.