Author's Note: My gosh, it's the fourth chapter. I've set up for a very bizarre living situation, haven't I? Then again, when has Erik ever been normal? Thanks to everyone who reads and leaves a review. I feel ultra-happy when I read them!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Phantom of the Opera...otherwise Raoul would not get the girl :)

Erik had driven back to his apartment after a short stop at a shopping center. It was late afternoon, and he was tired of running errands. He parked and pulled out the bags from his backseat. Why are you doing this, Erik? It's so risky to have the girl in there, the voice reminded him. "Shut up," Erik muttered aloud. She was stuck in the apartment, and he had to try and make the best of it.

He opened the door carefully, then locked it right behind him. He listened for activity in the apartment, but didn't hear Christine. Cautiously he made his way to her room with his packages. He opened the door and noted, with some relief, that she'd at least gotten out of bed. At least the sedative wore off all right. He heard the click of the bathroom door and turned to see Christine wrapped in a towel. Her widened eyes met his own.

"Oh. You're awake." Erik hoped she'd be too distraught to notice his reddened face, and so there was some relief mixed in with his annoyance when she pulled the towel closer to her and screamed.

"Get out! Get out get out get out!" Christine's temper flared. She stood awkwardly, glaring at Erik. He put the bags down gently.

"I didn't know you were in the bath, Christine. I came in to give these to you. They should fit, I think." Erik wasn't looking her in the eye at the moment, too embarrassed to make contact of any kind. "I'll leave you to change." He stepped out and closed the door behind him. He walked away, a hand to his forehead. Well, having a girl in the house might have its perks, a part of him chuckled. Trouble was, Erik didn't know which part of his it was. Dinner, he shook himself mentally, I should start dinner.

Damn him. She clenched her fists. He probably thinks he can just walk in on me whenever he likes because he's got me trapped. She wouldn't let herself cry, though. She'd be damned before showing him how scared she was. Instead, she had glared angrily at him and waited for him to respond. He'd surprised her when he'd spoken calmly and set the shopping bags down before leaving. Christine had been left alone to fume.

Her anger had quickly dissipated when he'd left her alone, and she eyed the bags cautiously. More of his old clothing? She walked over and knelt by the bags, opening one. In it, she found a long blue skirt and white top. Underneath, she found a pair of ivory sandals. For me? They were all women's clothes and shoes. Even, and she blushed when she saw them, undergarments. She stood behind the door to change, still worried about another intrusion. Christine was only too thankful that the clothes fit her well. She wouldn't have wanted to wear that t-shirt again.

Finally decently clothed, Christine decided to wander out into the den. She peeked her head out, but didn't see him there. Instead, she heard chopping coming from the kitchen. She spotted him, back turned to her, cutting up some vegetables. There was a pot of something boiling on the stove, along with a sauce. The smell of the sauce was heavenly, but that was not what brought Christine out of hiding. He was singing quietly as he worked.

Ave Maria, Christine realized, but I've never heard a male sing it. The sound of his voice was a shock to Christine. The song, which she'd sung as a soprano, sounded so wonderful coming from him. He was not just a baritone, he was an alto, even a soprano. Each note was given new life. It's beautiful. She'd let out a sigh without realizing it, and he stopped, turning to see her.

Erik had never been embarrassed or ashamed of his talent as a musician, but Christine had surprised him. He'd heard her sigh and, never expecting she'd willingly leave her room, did not know how to address her. "Dinner will be ready soon, Christine. Go sit at the table." It was all he could think to do, order her around.

"All right." Christine moved to the table and sat herself down on one end. She looked up at him and couldn't see the small amount of surprise he had at her complacency. She broke eye contact for a moment. "Would you keep singing, though? I didn't really want you to stop," she murmured. Her mind reprimanded her, reminding her of what he'd done to her, what he might still do, but curiosity had gotten the better of her. And his voice had been so beautiful.

Erik stared at her a moment, surprised again. "After dinner." He looked down and finished chopping vegetables, placing them in a bowl and tossing with olive oil. He moved silently and set it down with the plates, then went back to drain the pasta and finish the sauce. She likes my voice, he allowed himself to feel pride at that. She's your captive, and she's waiting for you to let your guard down, his dark self snapped, don't fool yourself. You know just how painful rejection is. Erik let his hand wander to the right side of his face, lightly tracing a finger down his hairline. I know. He set a plate of spaghetti in front of Christine before taking his own and sitting down.

He saw her bend her head and whisper grace, and fought down the bitter taste rising in his throat.

"Amen," Christine said. She looked up to see him for a split second before reaching for her fork. Erik reached for his own and took a bite. He noted, with some satisfaction, how surprised she was with his cooking. Erik eventually stopped eating, too interested in watching her. It had been so long since he'd shared a meal with anyone, and never dreamed he ever would with Christine. It was uncomfortable, granted, but he preferred it to eating alone.

"Did you look around the apartment while I was out?" He saw her look up, surprised he'd asked.

"Yes, but there was very little to do while-" she stopped herself short. - while you were gone. The words echoed in her mind. While he hadn't hurt her yet, the thought of wanting company, even his, so badly bothered her.

"There's a piano. You should have practiced your scales, at the very least." His reprimand surprised her.

"I haven't been in the clearest mind set." She huffed slightly. "Forgive me if I wasn't thinking about music at the moment." She pushed her plate away, full.

"You're studying music. It should be the most important thing for you." Erik picked up his plate and hers and headed to the sink. He heard her stand.

"How do you know so much about me? My family, my love of music, the school I go to?" Her eyes softened a moment, trying to remember his face. "Did we meet before last night?"

Erik sighed soundlessly and put away the plates. "Yes. I knew you before." Christine came closer to him, hoping that by closing their physical distance he'd open up.

"How do you know me?"

He turned to her, but ignored the question. No need for her to off into hysterics. "I'll play the piano in accompaniment. Do you have anything you'd like to sing, Christine?" He took her shoulders firmly and led her to the piano.

Christine shrugged him off and crossed her arms. "Don't change the subject. How do you know me?" It was time for some answers, she'd decided. She didn't know anything about him, save the fact that he was a killer. He's so young...maybe my age? When did he meet me, and where?

"One of your only freedoms now, Christine, lies in asking questions," Erik's voice was powerful, unquestionable. "But, I don't have to answer them." He flipped through sheets of music, and found one he was certain she'd recognize. As Christine fumed and opened her mouth to aggravate him further, Erik began to play.

"Sing for me," he ordered. Behind him Christine raised her head slightly, recognizing the melody. Her argument died away in her mind, replaced with music. His fingers played across the keys so deftly, his skill as good as any concert pianist she'd ever heard. The song being played was the wedding duet from Romeo and Juliet. It was a love song. As Erik opened his mouth and sang, she felt something trembling inside her more powerful than fear. It moved her to sing, too, without reservation.

Fate links me to thee forever and a day...

They sang together. Not as captor and captive or predator and prey, but as maestro and unknowing protege.

Author's Notes:

Thanks to everyone who has read the story so far, especially to those who've reviewed. I'm really happy to get such wonderful feedback. I'm planning to have more conversations with the Daroga in the story, since he has a good deal to do with Erik's past. As for the rest of the characters making an appearance...it's a secret :)