Author's note: Thanks to all of the reviewers. To answer a few questions, Erik never really planned to bring Christine to his home...but he's not really unhappy with the idea. It was a coincidence that they met that night, since I've never seen a fanfic with that premise. I thought it'd be interesting if he happened to rescue the girl he'd had his eye on and reveal his murderous side in the same chance meeting. Being held at his apartment...Christine's fortnight in the Phantom's home on the lake was one of my favorite moments in the book, so I wanted something like that to happen :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing, least of all the Phantom of the Opera...

Christine felt the warm blankets over her in the dim room. She stretched and flexed her arms before rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Have I overslept? My alarm clock hasn't-. It all rushed back to her. She looked around the room, and stopped when she saw a tray in the night stand with a note. She inched over and picked it up with a shaky hand, eyes now accustomed to the lighting.

Dear Christine,

I've left to run some errands, but will return before long. I'm asking you not to do anything foolish while I'm away. So long as you don't let your curiosity run wild, I can guarantee your safety. There are no phones in the apartment, so don't bother searching. My room, also, is locked. The den, your room, and the kitchen are free for your inspection, though. Feel free to have a look.

I've left some breakfast tea for you, and a small set of toiletries. If you're hungry, there's more food in the kitchen. Please make yourself comfortable.

Erik

She wasn't as pleased as Erik might have thought after reading the note. Christine quickly crumpled up the note and threw it across the room. She took fistfuls of the quilt and threw it off her.

"He's a sick -" She looked down when she felt how cool her legs felt. Bare? "And why am I in this shirt!" She shrank to the floor in embarrassment. "I don't remember changing into this," she said to herself, "so did...he...?" She grasped at her hair. No, this was not a question she wanted to ask herself. The thought of him anywhere near her made her sick with worry.

She remained in this panicked position for a while, until her stomach growled. Her body's needs overcame her self-pity, and she brought the tray down to her. On it was a thermos of warm English tea, sugar, milk, spoons, toast, butter, and a toothbrush and toothpaste. So considerate, she rolled her eyes. After a quick brush, she slathered some butter on the toast and poured her tea. The toast was heavenly and the tea was still warm. Haven't eaten since yesterday, she reminded herself, and it would be very ungracious of him notto feed me after locking me in here. She sat on the floor, unaware of the time as she finished the tea and toast.

Erik had left her sleeping, tray and letter on the night stand, and headed to the university. He patted the envelope in his trench coat pocket. A perfect copy of her writing, he smirked. All of the attention he'd paid to Christine had paid off. He'd seen her writing on the board before class once, and he was an apt pupil. That little sample was all he needed to forge her writing.

After he'd dropped off the letter in the office box, and turned in his latest composition, Erik headed for a quiet corner of the school. He flipped open his cell phone and dialed a phone number he knew too well.

"Hello?" The older male voice was clear.

"I need a favor, Daroga." Erik wasn't asking. His courtesy towards the Persian-
born detective had worn thin long ago.

"What did you do now?" The man sighed, years older now. He'd known Erik too long, and knew when the boy had gotten himself into a mess.

"It's not what I've done that's bad. It's what I will do if you don't help me. I need a certain someone to disappear. They're going on vacation, hitchhiking in Europe. I'll need their things packed away, too." Erik didn't want to involve him more than necessary. "The price of your service is up to you." There was a silence between them as the older man weighed Erik's offer.

"I want the Stravinsky. The engraved one."

"You old bastard," Erik muttered over the phone, looking about him.

"You have other violins, Erik, better ones. This one is worth too much to leave lying around your room collecting dust." The Daroga mused, "My wife's pregnant, and it would make an excellent start for my daughter."

"Congratulations, Daroga," Erik whispered. He was surprised at the thought of the older man as a father. The word 'father' had never really meant much to Erik, though, and so his emotion was short-lived. "Very well. I'll have it delivered to your address."

"I could pick it up at your apartment when you're there, Erik."

"No, I've been busy at school. I keep odd hours." Erik was being sincere enough- he chose to remain writing in the music room for hours, but that wasn't the reason he didn't want the man stopping by.

"All right. What's this person's name?"

Christine had finished her toast and tea, and had washed the dishes in the kitchen sink. She sat on the floor in her room, stretching. Boredom had gotten the better of her, and she'd already looked about the accessible parts of the apartment. She'd discovered a television and DVD player in the den, as well as an excellent sound system. No phones, just like he said, she reminded herself. For a moment, she'd lost her senses and tried forcing the heavy front door open with her small body. I can't escape from him, Christine had decided, at least not right now.

That matter settled, she was bored again, and in need of a bath. The previous night's rain and terror wrought havoc on her hair and nerves. She decided to try out the bath. In her earlier search she'd already found some shampoo and conditioner and soaps, as well as soft towels, and she thought it a waste not to use them.

Her dress was gone, and all she had was the large shirt. She ran the large bath, added some foam wash, and stripped down. She set her clothes gently on the sink counter, and slipped into the bath. The water was just right, and Christine sank down to her neck in the foamy, milky water. Her eyes closed, inhaling the perfumed water, she could make believe that this was her bath, her home. She could pretend that she'd chosen to play hooky this one day in order to pamper herself. Christine consumed herself in thoughts of what she'd do when she got out of the bath. Perhaps put on my favorite outfit and go to the movies. Or go to the music store and buy a new cd ... Sarah Brightman, maybe? She forced these impossibilities into her head, leaving no room for her new reality, and she felt such relief that cool tears slipped down her flushed cheeks. She knew it wouldn't last forever, but this moment was so necessary that she didn't care. Even as she drained the tub and wrapped the towel around herself, she was calm. The spell was broken only when she opened the bathroom door to come face-to-face with her dark-haired captor.

"Oh. You're awake."

A/N: Cliffhanger! Hope you've liked the story so far, and I hope you'll continue to read it.

SimplyElymas: That's why I love Erik. Angst draws me in like a moth to a flame.

Lydiby: I kind of like the chance thing...and I know Erik's a bit OOC...but I hope to develop the story more to answer a few of your issues. Wish me luck :)