Madamefluff: Sorry, I'm kinda new at FFN, so the breaking of the paragraphs is a bit new to me. But I will try to do that! And I'll definately be looking for your story when I get a chance!

Goldenpuppies at heart and AngeMusique: Welcome!

...The police were already there - already through the passages and in the lair. And Erik was no where to be found.
"Did I do something wrong? What did I do? Please forgive me!" Meg said passionately as they came in, she seeing Christine's look of pitiful despair. But Christine had more important things to do than to console friends - she took a deep breath, then raced down the passageways.

But she stopped short when she came upon the bank of the lair. They were everywhere, looking more like a colony of hungry ants than police officers. There was upturned bookshelves, the books that had remained before now scattered along the stone floor. Candles were knocked over, papers littering the floor. They were ruining the lair!
"Madame, I'll have to ask you to leave. This...place is undergoing a search." An officer said, spotting her.

"But monsieur, you must stop wrecking it! Please, the man you search for has not known this, his old home, for over four years. I look after here now - I use it. Those books, those papers...they're all I have left of him. Please, do not hurt them!" Christine heart felt begged.
"Madame..."
"Please! Can you not see that he isn't here? If you must continue to search, please be careful. To many, the 'Phantom' was nothing more than a nusience. But he was my teacher, my one understanding friend. In my heart, I fear he is dead. So you see, this is all I have left. Please..."
"Very well, Madame." The kind hearted officer answered.
Christine stood back and watched, feeling horribly nervous. She could sense him...yes, he was here, somewhere. Her eyes, adjusting to the darkness, scanned the crevices of the lair. Suddenly, she saw a glimpse of white and a flash of black. He was near his desk where all the clutter of discarded things were! But luckily, no one else noticed, and finally, the officers gave up.
"We'll be going back up, Ma'am. Shall I help lead the way for you?" The man she had spoken to before asked. But Christine shook her head.

"I'd like to straighten up the mess everyone made, if you don't mind. I'll be up shortly."
A look of suspicion came to the officer's eyes, but with a flash of a sweet, innocent smile on her part, the policeman went to ground with the rest of his crew. Christine ran over to the desk as soon as they were surely gone to find Erik. Sure enough, he was there, crouching down.

"Erik, you must get out of here! They're everywhere! Don't think they wont come back; they will, surely they will. You must go!"
Erik only nodded, then motioned for her to be silent. Grabbing her wrist, he lifted a velvet curtain and plunged the both of them into darkness.

Christine dared not scream, but everything inside her was. It was completely black - nothing could be seen. Yet round bends and up small hills they ran. If Christine did not trust this man she had for so long called her angel, never would she have made it this far. It didn't help that her mind kept shouting how afraid she was of the dark, either. But with her hand clasped tightly with his, being so close to him that his cape kept tangling in her legs, somehow she was managing. She would not turn back, not now - not after everything that had happened before. She'd put away her fears for now until this was over, and then feast on them later.

Finally, Erik stopped. "Slowly now." He whispered into her ear. "Bend down a bit as well. Yes, there you go. Keep up with me, not too far now."
It wasn't long until Christine realized why she was bending. Although her face was only about three feet from the rocky ground, she could still feel the sharp, jagged ceiling scrape against her back every now and then as they walked upwards. Until finally, the jagged ceiling turned into smooth wood, and small beams of light poured faintly down every now and then. A strong smell of smoke drifted to her nostrils, making her cough. Erik quickly shoved a handkerchief in her hand, which she covered her nose and mouth with. They were under the theater now, under the stage. As she listened to Erik curse softly under his breath, she realized that he must have made a wrong turn somewhere. Now he quickly searched for the path that he was supposed to be on. Christine figured he must have found it then, because he started running once again, dragging her with. The looming stench of smoke soon faded until it was hardly there at all. Finally, much to her legs relief, he opened a small door and pushed her through, him following behind. It was nearly just as dark here, but there were tiny cracks of light that squeezed through the ceiling. Surely that wasn't enough to light the room as it was though...then she understood. The beams of light were reflecting off of long, full length mirrors that surrounded the two of them. Christine suddenly rose to her feet again and whirled around. Where had he brought her.

"Sit, Christine. You have no need to fear." Erik said calmly in hushed tones. Was that a hint of amusement she heard in his voice? Surely not in a time like this!
"What is this place?" She hoarsely asked back, feeling frightened again.
"Sit and I will talk." Was his only answer. She sat next to him, inches from his body. Anyone would have suited to make her feel better at a time like this.
"Uh...would you mind sitting across from me, my dear? This mask...it's hard to..." He fumbled, seemingly embarrassed.
"Oh, of course." Christine, for the first time, seemed glad of the darkness - it hid her crimson face. "Now...where are we, Erik?"
"This, my dear, is my torture chamber."
"What!" She said, not too loud, but enough to make him wince and shush her.
"Do not speak so loudly again. You know I would not harm you, Christine - do you not? There is no reason to act so childishly. It's not a torture chamber unless I make it one. This one works differently than my other."

"You have more?" Christine asked, forgetting her circumstance and wondering if she really knew that man that sat across from her.
"One, but that is beside the point. For now, it is what will keep you safe. Remember the Masquerade and the dramatic exit I presented? I went down a trap door, leading your beau down as well - to here. You see, we are under the lobby of the Opera House currently. Be sure to speak quietly always - many people stand right above you. As for the officers, I know what you said is true - and I must escape; to flee Paris, for good this time-"
"All your plans...to live civilly..."
"The good Vicomte saw to it that those plans did not come true, did he not? Those plans I foolishly made are now officially dashed. I must leave, once again taking the murder's pathway through life, at least for a few years. I fear this will not simmer down for a great while. It will not be forgotten. Now listen to me, Christine - listen carefully. There's a small door directly behind you. There's a short pathway that you follow for about...ten yards or so. At the end is a normal size door. At the top ledge of the door is a key for the lock, since the door always remains so. Unlock that, and you're in the hallway leading to the Ballet rats dormatory and Madame Giry's housing. You know you're way from there. It's not hard, just keep your wits about you-"
"You want me to do that?" Christine asked, stunned.
"Yes, you must get back to ground."
"As for you?"

"There's another path out the door from which we came. Take a right instead of a left, and you find yourself about a hundred yards from the Opera House and near some stables. I'll escape using that."
"But you said you'll never come back to Paris! We'll be separated forever! No, Erik, I can't do that.
Living without you for four years passed by like a thousand eternities! Do not condemn me to that life a misery once again! Let me go with you! I'll do anything you say, I promise. Please, Erik-"
"I will hear no such nonsense, Christine Daae! Do not make me lose my temper. What I am about to do is not pleasant - I'll be living the life of a criminal of the worse sort. I'll be tracked for the rest of my days. Never would I allow an innocent child to accompany me. What good would by judgement be then? How much of a genius would I be then?" He flared. But Christine could tell that it was not her he was furious at; nor at the person who had inflicted this upon him. He was angry that she had laid the great temptation in front of him - and on any other circumstance, he would have seized it with out a thought, but now his greater judgement, his conscious not many knew he had, would torture him if he did what she begged.
"Erik, you did not see me as a child years ago when you first asked me to marry you - to be your wife! Four years later, considered an old maid by many, and it's now you look upon me as a child? Let me be come with you. Do not put upon me a fate that shall curse me for the rest of my days. Take me with. Give me a chance to prove loyalty to you. Let me in your heart, Erik. For so many years that's all you wanted from me, and I was too young and foolish to give it to you. Let me make it up now. Take me with you; don't leave me behind."
Christine could literally see the indecision and emotions welling in his eyes. He seemed tortured, indeed. She had said the right words to move his heart as it had never been moved my another living person in his life.

"Promise me, Christine - promise me." He said, gruff from emotion, "that you'll do exactly as I say, no matter what. If I decide that it's too dangerous along the way, that you'll go back without another word. Promise me that you'll go along with my plans, no matter what they are. Promise me, Christine, and I'll consider this."
But it was too late. She could have said anything - he had already made up his mind to bring her, this she knew. It was in the way he spoke, the way he looked at her.
With her sweetest smile, and her bravest look, she stared into his eyes and promised him everything he had asked. And then, as suddenly as he had before, he grabbed her wrist and ran out the door with her once more.