ACK! CRAZY WEEK AT WORK!

I'll try to get another chapter up today. Please review. I think you guys will really enjoy where this is going….

Also, I barely ever write about rape, but there is a scene here that might be touchy to some. Use your discretion.

-Nico

Three Weeks Later

"I don't understand, Christine. What could this…man…be teaching you that you don't already know?"

Raoul's voice was frustrated, but still gentle.

"He's a genius, Raoul," Christine replied, pulling her hair up into a demure bun. "We should be grateful he even agreed to work with me."

"Grateful?" Raoul scoffed. "Your performances were perfect before you started these lessons."

Christine stood from her vanity after applying a bit more rouge than she usually did. "Perfection takes constant work, Raoul," she told him. "The moment I start thinking that I cannot improve, my career is over."

"It seems like a waste of time to me," Raoul said skeptically. "And I don't particularly like the idea of my fiancé working in such close quarters…at night… with a man whose past is questionable at best."

"Oh Raoul," Christine pished. "You make it sound as if I've been doing something unseemly. Is that what you think of me?"

Raoul moved closer to her, placing a warm hand on her cheek. "You know I don't," he said softly, playing with a tendril of hair that had already escaped its confines. "I suppose I'm just a jealous fool."

Christine smiled, feeling suddenly guilty. "I won't be too late, Raoul."

She pressed a kiss to his cheek and quickly retreated down the steps of the humble home she shared with Meg and Madame Giry.

She sighed to herself, realizing that Raoul would probably be waiting at the home when she returned.

Sometimes, he was far too protective.

Early in their courtship, Christine had adored the way Raoul had fawned over her, making certain she was never without an escort. She loved how upset he would become if someone had upset her. She reveled in the fact that Raoul was a powerful man who would quickly and efficiently deal with anyone who ever wronged her.

But now…

It made Christine feel like a child.

And like a defiant child, Christine made the decision to walk the quarter mile to the Opera Populaire instead of taking the carriage Raoul had commissioned for her.

It was early evening; she was to meet Erik at 7pm on the stage of the Opera. Christine couldn't help the giddy excitement that always somehow appeared in the pit of her stomach before a lesson with Erik.

Each lesson began with Christine walking in on Erik as he somberly played a tune on the magnificent piano that rested in the perfect center of the stage.

Whether he noticed her or not Christine could not be sure, but inevitably she would listen tohim play, greedily consuming every note that poured from his long fingers.

She smiled to herself more widely as she walked, unable to stop herself from doing so.

Less than two blocks from the Opera, Christine suddenly became aware that someone was following her. She sped up her pace a bit, distraught to discover that her follower did the same.

Panic began to pump the blood into Christine's legs. Before she knew it and without even looking behind herself, she broke into a run.

The follower did the same.

The Opera was less than 20 yards away. If she could just make it to the door, she was safe.

Yet the thick layers of crinoin, lace and silk that her skirts were comprised of weighed her down. Just as she came upon the block before the Opera, she felt strong hands grasp her around her waist and pull her into a dark alley just alongside of the Theater.

Her scream was cut short as her stalker slammed her thin body against a brick wall, covering her mouth with his hand.

"Don't make a sound," the stalker slurred, his breath reeking of whiskey.

Christine's eyes went wide as the man used his body to pin her to the wall, freeing up one of his hands to begin to undo his belt.

Involuntarily, Christine bit down on the calloused hand covering her mouth.

The man yelped in pain, and while he was momentarily stunned Christine managed to scream andfree her bodyfrom his.

Her escape was short-lived, however, as she felt the force of the stranger's body collide with her own, knocking her to the ground. After a brief struggle, Christine found herself once more pinned beneath the man, his breath coming in panting, saliva ridden puffs of air.

"What do you want?" Christine asked desperately. "If it's money, I can pay you!"

The man sneered, revealing a row of rotten, yellowing teeth.

"I don't want yer money," the man drawled, pressing his horrible mouth to hers in a stale attempt at a kiss.

Christine shrieked again, turning her head to the side.

The man slapped her, his rough hand coming down hard on her cheek.

She tasted blood.

"This will be a lot easier for the both of us if ye don't fight," the man said, once again fumbling with his belt.

Again he slammed his mouth to hers.

Christine whimpered and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the rough scrape of the man's beard against her face.

Then, without warning, the man went limp.

Christine opened her eyes and stared right into the vacant abyss of a dead man's stare.

Just as she opened her mouth to scream, the man's body was flipped off of hers.

Blinking, she looked up.

There, clad in all black, a bloody dagger in his right hand at his side and a look of rage on his face, was Erik.

"Are you alright?" He asked her desperately, coming to pull her up into his arms.

Christine nodded. "Y-Yes," she stammered. "Y-yes, I'm ok."

Erik looked down at the small woman, who was staring up at him with a mixture of fear, disbelief and thankfulness on her face.

And then suddenly, she fell into his arms, sobbing against the soft silk of his cape.

Erik instinctively wrapped his arms around her, soothing her hair back with his hand.

"It's alright," he cooed. "You're safe now. You're alright."

After a moment, Erik lifted Christine into his arms, cradling her to his chest protectively.

Still she cried, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his neck.

Erik held her tighter.

There was only one place he could think of to go that provided unbiased comfort to those who needed it most.