A/N - sorry for the long cliff hanger! Here's the next chapter:

"Come now, Christine - you can not sleep all day. You're wearied out from last night, I know...but we got a long day ahead of us." Christine heard, the voice right next to her ear.
Her eyes fluttered open, greeting the bright light of the morning. She did not look up to see who had said those words to her, too afraid that her hopes would be shattered. But it sounded did like him! Just like him...
Tears came to her eyes as she felt his breath on her cheek. Looking slowly up, she gasped loudly. It was him! It was Erik! She threw her arms around his neck, wondering if his figure would dissolve away in a fading dream - but he didn't disappear! She cried out in joy, hugging him closer.
"How? How did you escape?" She asked.
Erik's eyes were dancing, even when she asked such a question. "You heard him - everyone knows I'm a great magician. No great magician is ever caught off guard." And with that, he slowly pulled back his cape to reveal a thin-handled sword sheathed in leather.
"But you couldn't possibly have hid that from me while we were riding. How..."
"Magician." He said with a coy grin.
"But then where did you get it? I know you didn't have it at the Opera house - you hardly had food."
"A slight souvenir from the mantel piece from the last hotel. Thought we might need it."
"How did you...I don't understand. Your escape..."
"I am a master in many things. This was not the first time I had my life threatened, I assure you. And many people of much greater stature has tried to claim my life, and yet I stand before you today."
Christine smiled weakly, but it quickly faded into a worried frown. "But how, Erik? Did you...will they find a..."
"I did what I had to. Do you not understand the fact that he would have kept to his word? He would have came after us again, and that time...he wouldn't be as nice. A man...a man will do anything if he is desperate enough."
"What if they find him? Will the police know he was..." Somehow, ever since the man had called Erik a beast and a murderer, she could not say the word 'murder'. It was too painful for the both of them.
"They'll find him a few dozen yards from the dirt road. They'll see that it was an accident that killed him; his horse started to go wild, and the wooden harness of the horse's came loose. He tried to put the strap back on the knob of the wagon. Instead, he lost his footing, and became entangled with the horse's wild hooves." Erik said, emotionless and not meeting her eyes.
"But the way you did it...will they suspect?"
"The way it looked how it happened, he'd have many cuts and gashes. One to the neck would not look out of place."
Christine nodded, looking away. She felt sick to her stomach. The image of what he had described, the foul smell of him behind her, the sharp dagger digging into her neck. She had no mirror, but she knew that it must have left quite the mark. Looking at Erik's own neck, she saw it raw and red; as well as his wrists. She wanted to cry, they looked so painful. Instead, she ripped a piece of her skirt off and dipped it into the river, then came back to Erik. Slowly, she took his hand in hers and gently washed the wounds that seemed to sink into his skin. He winced lightly, showing pain only for a second before he put on an emotionless face.
"As much as I would love to sit in a peaceful valley as you care for my wounds all day, we really must be going. If we learned nothing last night, we learned that we can no longer only fear just officers. There are many desperate men with hurting families in these areas who will do anything to help them get by. That man whom attacked us was doing what any of them would. We must flee these areas as quickly as possible." Erik said.
Christine nodded. Finishing washing the visible dirt from the raw spots, she dropped the material and went to help pack the saddle bags again. But as she turned to put them on the horse, her eyes widened. This was not their black horse. Instead, it was a chocolate brown one, with a white star at it's forehead.
"Erik?" She said, turning her head to him but keeping her eyes glued to the horse.
"The man was right; we were killing that poor horse. We needed a new one. The man had little money, but he did keep his horse well. He's in excellent shape, a fine breed. We'll have to be easier on this one. If we are, he'll easily last us to our destination."
As tempted as she was, even opening her mouth to say it, she refused to ask where they were going. She had decided that she didn't care. As long as he was going with her, she would go anywhere.
"What happened to the old horse?" She asked instead.
Erik grinned, as if he knew her struggle for silencing her other question. But then the returned to being serious. "I let him free a little farther down the road than where the wagon is. I urged him to keep going. Hopefully he is a distance away now."
"But wont the police find him?"
"I'm sure they will, if they are half as good as I give them credit for."
"But the theater horses...don't they usually..."
"Have a burned marking on them? Yes, they do. And ours was no exception. They'll know that we stole the horse and had to leave him behind from his condition. Hopefully the horse will be far enough away from the wagon that they wont suspect to hard. Once they find the horse though, they'll nurse him back to health so he'll be just a good as when we took him. He wont die this way, even though a second horse would have helped us immensely."
She nodded and strapped on the saddlebags. But just as Erik was mounting, he stopped, then looked back at Christine.
"You should take off that dress." He said softly, looking at it up and down. He didn't meet her eyes, as if afraid to hurt her feelings. Why?
She looked down and saw it covered in mud and dried blood from the same scrapes and cuts she recieved when she was pushed.
Nodding, she walked over to the river and carefully took it off, revealing the black dress underneath. Taking off the extra layer seemed to help her to really breath now - that blue dress added quite a few pounds to her slight body.
By the time it was off, Erik had tied their new horse to the tree again and had built a fire.
"Throw it to the flames." He said as he crouched by it, feeding it small sticks.
She stared at it for a moment, not quite wanting to give it up. It was her last tie with Meg. But she knew if anyone found it, they'd know. So she shut her eyes and threw it in, the flames licking it lightly at first, then devouring it before Erik threw water on the fire and stomped out the embers.
Then he quickly mounted the horse and helped her up.
"Get comfortable; we have a ways to go." He said simply. She nodded, though in this saddle...in any astride saddle, it was impossible to get comfortable as she sat side saddle.
"Ready?" He asked her.
Faking a smile and hiding her discomfort, she nodded, and the horse lurched forward.

"Who is he?" Christine asked suddenly, when the questions in her mind became to much for her.
They had stopped by a small creek. The horse was drinking gaily from in as Christine stayed by it's side, stroking it's neck absentmindedly.
Erik, who had been digging in the saddlebags, put his head up and pee red over at her from behind his shoulder.
"Nadir?" he asked after thinking a few moments.
Christine nodded. "You told me to go to him, and that he'd know me. Who is he?"
Erik straightened, a small grin playing on his lips. "You are inquisitive, aren't you? But I was wondering when you'd ask. He's an old friend of mine. Well, he used to be. Like I said before, my life was threatened by greater people than lowly farmers. A king of Persia was one of them. Nadir was a daroga in those days. Do you know what a daroga is? It's a chief of police. Nadir watched over me for the king, until the king decided I was too genius for my own good, and wanted me dead. Nadir made a compromise with me; if I promised him that I'd never killed another person again outside of self defense, he'd let me go. If not, he'd lead me to my execution. Needless to say, I suppose, that I promised. Ever since he was released from the Persian jail after letting me go, he's been watching me closely. Any news of the Opera Populaire, he knows about. He knows of the suicides, the awkward deaths, the mysterious going ons. He is no longer a daroga, but he acts still like one. He knows about you as well. But I have not seen him since a year or so before the Populaire fire, which I caused. It's quite easily to presume that he wont be very pleased with me."
"Does he know about me the same way he knows about the deaths? By reading?" Christine asked.
"No. He knows you were my student; I have talked to him since he arrived in Paris. But trying to persuade him to believe me when I say you are here on your own accord, let alone begged me to let you come...well, it will be your words that will convince him, not any of mine. He was my friend, my companion, but I fear he is like all the rest; under the impression that I am nothing but a bloodthirsty beast, incapable of showing or receiving any kind of love from a woman. And by you? A beautiful, young soprano that could of have the rich Vicomte? It may take years to make him believe."
Christine just stared at him, surprised he had revealed so much. Then, timidly, she asked, "Then why do we go there; if he will be so hard on you? And that if he acts like he's still the chief of police, wouldnt he be just the person we'd be best to stay away from?"
"Precisely, Christine. On any other occasion than this. But see, we are in need of his...other services." Erik said, flipping over the saddlebag he was digging into. All that fell out was an apple and a few morsels of stale bread.
"That's it?" Christine said softly, looking at the food.
Erik seemed angry with himself as he stared down at it too. "That's it."
With that, he succumbed into silence, staring down but seeing nothing. Christine stood uneasily, watching him and waiting. What was he thinking about so hard? His shoulders were stiff, as was the posture of his back. One hand clenched the empty saddlebag still, as the other was in a tight fist. His eyes were hard and narrow. Whatever he was thinking, Christine was sure it wouldnt be good for her.
"Go back." His deep voice suddenly sounded.
Christine's head flew up, looking at him with wide eyes. "What?"
"Go back...back to your home. You can do it yourself - just get on the dirt road and follow it back to the last town. There's many officers. Tell them that you escaped me; that you want to go home. Or, if you really don't want to do it by yourself, I can lead you to Nadir - he'll take you back. I've done many wrong things in his eyes, he'll just see this as another addition to his list; I'm sure he's marked it already. But he couldn't really blame me. After all, what was I to do? I'm only a feelingless monster who cant help but want an innocent girl to play a part for a while, am I right?" He said angrily, but his fury was not directed to her. He looked up at her, his body and complection stern, but his eyes sorrowful and asking forgiveness.
She stared back at him in shock. A thousand words streamed in her head, begging to be let out from her lips. Yet, only one did. "No!" Seeing Erik taken aback at the sound of her stern yell encouraged those words to slowly form into sentences and to come out. "I'm not going back. I don't want to-"
"You don't belong here!" Erik interupted. "I raised you for the stage! For you to be where everyone can admire your great beauty and voice. Not here. Not where you will go to waste. I promised to keep you from starving, yet you eat less than ballet rats when they are dieting and training! You lost many pounds, I can feel it when I lift you. And we haven't even been gone very long! I skip meals so you can eat more, and it's still not much. Living on just my love is not enough, Christine. If we keep going the way we are, you're going to be dying from it. And I wont watch you wither away right in front of my eyes!" Erik exclaimed, showing more passion than he had in a long time.
"Then I'll die!" Christine yelled back. "I rather be here than anywhere else. I've never complained of not getting enough food or of anything to you. I'm doing just fine!"
Erik just stared at her. When he replied, it was in a softer, hushed tone. "You've changed greatly over the years. The Christine I used to know would never think of defying me."
"And you told me that there was little you could deny me. This was not one of those things that you had to refuse. You promised to accept my decision."
"No. I wont force you to go back, but I will beg. Once I thought that I was much higher than begging, but for you and your safety, I shall lower myself. But I realize now, at least at this point, I can not accept your decision."
"Lower or higher yourself as much as you want, but I will not accept begging if you wont accept my plea. Therefore, cast me away, let me not on your horse. But I will follow you. Come snow or rain, thunder and lightning, I'll be behind you the whole way."
Erik looked away. Was that a grin she saw? "Do not pride yourself in being so different than when you were a teenager, my dear - your strongest point then is still yours now - you are still very stubborn."
"Oh, but that why I pride myself. In my eyes, stubbornness is a very good thing."
"Then I suppose, it is in mine."
Christine walked over to the horse, petting his neck before looking back at Erik. "Shall we?"
He shook his head and sighed. Never had he lost an argument with anyone before. Always he came on top. So why was it now that he couldn't win a single one?
"You'll be the death of me, Christine." He said as he approached her, but with a smile. She grinned back, knowing full well that she had won, and that this small victory was hers.
"Thank you." She whispered as he hauled her up to the horse.