Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/music associated with POTO. Nor do I own the song "Ruanaway" by The Corrs. But you love me anyway, right? Right?
Thanks for all the reviews, they are the stuff my story is made of.

Lee

Runaway

Christine

Her legs trembled as she walked through the door to her apartment. She had been physically sick in the bathroom of the Opera House. The door had opened and she had turned in horror.

Strangely enough, it had been Carlotta who had waltzed through the door, with the conspicuous lack of an entourage. She had taken one look at Christine, who was painfully aware of her less than presentable state, and the woman's brows had drawn together with an almost audible click.

Christine was shocked at what happened next. The fussy diva swept toward her, taking calm command. "Come, ma cherie, what is it?" The haughty face was softened in pity, the black eyes and arms around her shoulders were firm and warm.

She was not laughing, nor sneering. Her eyes were assessing, sisterly. Christine had not expected another facet to the glittering prima donna.

Yet there it was. Christine forgot composure, forgot decency, and broke down on the woman's shoulder. Carlotta patted her back, rocking her silently. For the second time that day, Christine allowed herself to cry. Her mind was blank. Why she was allowing this to happen, after so many years of fighting back tears? Why was she letting them come now? She sobbed. Could it be that she had finally succumbed, admitted, to her terrible weakness? Had she, after holding back for so long, become this creature?

No. I have always been this creature. All my life. I've cost everyone I loved. I've been so weak. Joseph is right.

Oh, Raoul. Dimly, she could hear the recording they'd made of themselves, singing together.

"Say it's true there's

nothing like me and you

I'm not alone, tell me

you feel it too..."

The sound of laughter as he swept her up in his arms.

"And I would run away

I would run away with yeah

I would run away I would run away

with you

Coz I am falling in

love with you

No never I'm never gonna stop

Falling in love with you..."

"Christine"

"Yes"

"Will you marry me?"

The guilt increased tenfold. Sobs wracked her small body like a birch tree in a hurricane. She hung on for dear life to the imperial prima donna.

"Now, ma cherie, what is the matter?" This fastidious, intimidating woman did not seem to care that Christine had soaked her shoulder and her costume. Her thin, beringed fingers, rubbed her back as though she were a child. Christine winced as she encountered a bruise, she could not altogether stifle a gasp. The diva saw and whispered in her ear.

"I know what it is you are hiding, child." Christine looked up at her through brimming eyes. "Wha-"

"Do not deny it." Carlotta said, voice crisp and firm. "I have many nieces. Do not think to hide such a thing from me."

"What are you going to do?" She asked the woman tremulously. The diva snorted. "The question is, what are you going to do, ma cherie. You are the one who got yourself into this, not me. I will give you only one piece of advice- leave him soon. The longer you stay with such a man, the more dangerous it becomes." The reddened mouth pursed. "Now, dry your tears. We have an Opera to perform. Come with me, Miss Daae. We'll make you look presentable again."

Christine stared at the woman, speechless. I can't believe how I misjudged her. Carlotta was fussing with her face, covering the redness of her cheeks, the puffy eyes. The woman was brisk and firm, a mind-boggling change from her usual coquette flutters. She was amazed at the competent woman that lurked within the prima donna.

She wished she had Carlotta with her now. The diva's presence would have done much for her nerves, raw as she waited for Joseph to come home. Even now, she did not yet know what she would do. Where she would go.

If she would go. Joseph represented protection to her, his abuse a twisted kind of love, as though his fierce overprotectiveness and violence toward her were some odd form of affection. As though she was valuable to him. He had taken charge of her life after Raoul, when she was adrift and lost without Raoul or her parents. She had taken his insults, his blows, because she needed someone. Someone to watch her, protect her. She had taken all of his abuse because there was nowhere else to go.

And... she deserved it. His blows were justified, anyone's blows toward her were justified for what she did to Raoul and her parents. Shouldn't she pay the price for what she had cost them? Wasn't it only fair that she suffered as she had made them suffer? Was she not everything Joseph told her, for all that she had brought upon them?

Did she not deserve to be punished?

Meg

She knew she shouldn't. It was none of her business.

She didn't care. If that shy, fragile girl was hurt another time, every blow would be her fault, every bruise and every tear a mark of her shameful silence. Meg jammed the keys into the ignition and sped out into the night. She pulled her phone out of her purse. She had a call to make.

Christine

A familiar heavy knock echoed through the room. "Christine, open the door." The voice was slurred. She approached the door, hesitated. What if she refused to open it? What then?

"Christine!" A heavy blow to the door made her jump. "I know you're there, so open the damn door!"

From the sound of him, he was heavily drunk. Or stoned. She had no idea which of the two he had indulged in tonight. Perhaps even both.

She heard the door splinter on the other side. "All right." Her voice was shaky. "I'm coming."

As she pulled it to, the door flew open. Joseph looked livid. His pupils were fully dilated, she nearly gagged in the reek of alcohol. His eyes were bloodshot, his movements lurching. "What took you so long, Christine?" The words were heavy with menace. "Not hiding anything, are you?" His hand snatched her hair, pulled her head back. "Are you?"

She was overwhelmed by the fear his unsteady state induced, feeling like prey beneath a hunter's gun. "No- Joseph, you're hurting me!" She cried as he grabbed her just under the shoulder. She felt the arm begin to go numb.

"Where are you hiding him, Christine?"

"What are you talking about?" She tried to back away, felt the wall hit her shoulderblades. Her breathing was fast and irregular, her heart felt as though it would burst. He pinned her against the wall and she felt a physical horror enter her body, paralyzing her with fear.

"Tell me where you're hiding him, Christine! Did you think you could keep it a secret forever?"

She whimpered as he pinned her arms to her sides. "Joseph, stop it!"

"Begging won't save you, Christine." Colors burst against her closed eyelids as his fist collided with her head. She screamed as they exploded again.

And again.

"Joseph!"

"You'll scream louder than that, Christine, I promise." One hand found its way to her neck, curled and tightened.

Stars burst before her eyes, she felt her limbs go slack. The world spun like a kaleidoscope.

"Let her go!"

An angry female voice, Christine could hear it only distantly. Joseph's mad eyes stared into hers, completely unaware of anything but his victim.

Christine heard a crash. Joseph flinched, turned. Dimly, she saw something red and shining on his back, he turned and backhanded the blonde girl. She yelped and was driven backward. Joseph kicked the girl in the stomach, bringing her to her knees, than turned back to Christine.

She cowered on the floor, only half-aware of what was going on around her, but fast regaining consciousness- reentering the nightmare. His hand slid under her chin, brought her to stand against the wall, pinned by her neck. Stripes of color and shadow crossed her vision. She felt, rather than saw, her vision beginning to darken.

The sound of breaking glass brought her back. Joseph stumbled back from her, whirled, snarling. Christine crumpled to the floor. Her vision returned, though she could not have moved to save her life.

A tall man dressed entirely in black placed himself between Christine and her attacker. Joseph, half out of his mind with the drugs and alcohol pumping through his veins, rushed the man with an animalistic roar.

The man caught his arm as he swung at him, used the other's momentum to throw him past. Joseph recovered himself and the faced each other once more, one with the stance of a prizefighter, broad, the other taller, leaner, moving with a fencer's grace. He stepped neatly to the side as Joseph charged him again, delivered a crushing blow to the back of the other man's neck.

The floor shook as Joseph fell heavily to the floor. Dimly, she heard a female voice. "Is she all right?"

The man knelt beside her. She felt herself scooped up, cradled. She stared up into the face of her rescuer. Blue eyes, hot and blazing, bored into her from a face half-covered by a familiar white mask. A warm, angelic voice washed over her. "We'll see. Bring the car around, would you?"

In the corner of her eyes, she caught a glimpse of a blonde head disappearing around the door. Then her eyes were recaptured by the intense orbs that looked into hers. She buried her head against his neck, escaping the clear-eyed gaze. His arms tightened around her.

Her name was a soft caress. "Christine."

She felt the tears begin to spill. He held her against him still more firmly as he walked toward the door. Carefully, ever so carefully, he went down the stairs to where a pool of light illuminated a dark car. A light-haired girl's frightened face looked at him from behind the steering wheel. Dimly, she felt him slide into the backseat, issuing directions to the girl. The car's engine purred and Christine felt the car pull away. One gentle hand held her head against him, a voice was speaking soothingly.

Christine was not sure when she passed from night into true darkness.

Erik

His heart was still pounding. He ran his fingers feverishly through the damp, tangled curls, slick with sweat and what felt like blood. Her face bore a scattering of small cuts, left by the shattered glass that had saved her life. Her face was pale, sheened with sweat. The long, dark lashes were beaded with tears, the soft lip split, ivory face turning dark in a long, purple-black bruise along her cheekbone. Her throat was red from the other man's ungentle hands.

He was shocked by the lightness of her, as though held a child in his arms. Her face was pressed against his neck, her hands clenched on his turtleneck, tendons showing white. Her face was pained in whatever dark dreams she was having. He stroked the russet curls. "It's all right, Christine." His voice was pitched for her ears alone. "You're safe now."

Some of the tautness left her, she curled up against him. He ran gentle fingers over her back. "You're safe."

She breathed a contented sigh onto his shoulder.

Enough Erik/Christine for you? (grin) Didn't think so. Review and tell me what you think!

Lee