It was destined to happen, really - for as well as they got along, they both had quite strong wills and a fiery passion in the soul, both quite stubborn.

It had started during one of her trips with him in the tunnels when Erik had asked her how her day was going, and she began to tell him about the morning she had spent with Meg and Colette.

"Oh!" she said suddenly. "That reminds me, I forgot to tell you - Raoul is coming back."

Erik nodded absentmindedly.

"I'm afraid that means I'm not going to have much time to do lessons this coming week - I'm not going to have any time for lessons, actually."

"What?" he was now paying sharp attention.

"Well, I want to spend as much time with him as I can while he's here - it's only for the week, Erik."

Erik's mind was reeling. Who the devil was Raoul? She had mentioned the fellow before, he was sure, but he never considered him in the light he was now viewing the matter. He was some street urchin, probably, scraping together enough pocket change to buy an opera ticket so he could gawk at Christine up on the stage. She shouldn't be hanging around boys, that was a distraction and she needed no distractions while she was training her voice. It simply wouldn't do, and it most certainly had nothing to do with the fact that Erik preferred to keep her all to himself (how could he pretend that he was anything more to her than a stuffy old tutor if she was courting some boy? How could she ever possibly enjoy his company once she had a true man to compare him against?).

"I don't think you should, Christine."

She frowned.

"I think I should," she retorted. "He's a dear friend of mine, and he's so often in faraway lands. I barely ever get to see him. I don't think a week off will make much difference for my voice."

a dear friend of hers

He swallowed hard. The stakes were suddenly higher.

"But I am your teacher," he stubbornly reminded her. "I know what's best for your voice."

She turned an incredulous eye towards him.

"Goodness, Erik - what's going to happen to my voice in a week's time? Is it going to dissolve into nothing? Is my throat suddenly going to cease to produce sound? All because of a week of no practice? Not even a week! We only meet four days out of the week as it is - this is four days off that I'm talking about!" she threw up her hands.

He was losing her, and it terrified him. She wasn't his, he knew that, but he had assumed she would be around him a while longer still - but if this boy, this Raoul were to enter the picture, he'd surely steal her away from the stage - and from Erik. He shouldn't press the issue, he knew that too, but his mind was flooding with panic and it was overriding his common sense.

"You'll have two days off, and that's final. That's very generous, I think, considering you shouldn't be going out at all."

He regretted the words as soon as they were out, but there was no taking them back, no way for his mind to deescalate what was happening.

"What is that supposed to mean, I shouldn't be going out at all?" she stopped short. They had reached the bank of the lake, but she refused to step down into the boat as Erik did.

"You've never cared that I went out with friends before," she continued. "It's never been a problem before now."

"It's different now," he hated the petulant tone to his voice, but he couldn't stop it.

She stared down at him, bewildered, as he stood in the boat with his hands tightly wrapped around the gondoliers pole.

"Different?" she parroted, then hesitated and softened her voice. "Erik, if you have a good reason why I shouldn't go with Raoul, please tell me."

He resolutely refused to look at her, and remained silent.

She placed her hands on her hips.

"Is there a reason or isn't there?"

There was a reason, but definitely not one he could tell her, and he hated that he had brought it up, hated that he had reason to bring it up, and most of all hated Raoul for daring to exist on the same earth as Christine.

"Get in the boat, Christine," the words echoed off the stone walls, the tone of them sounding more demanding than he knew he ever had a right to take with her.

Her eyes widened and she dropped her hands to hang limply by her sides.

"Erik, I'll listen to you if you have a good reason, but if not then I'm going to spend my week with Raoul."

"I won't have you gallivanting about with some boy," he spit the words out.

"Galliva- Erik what on earth has gotten into you?" she took a step backwards.

He ran a hand over his face a gave a short, sharp sigh.

"We will discuss later, Christine. Now get in the boat so we can do your lesson."

"No."

"No?" he finally looked at her.

Her mouth was set firmly, her hands balled into fists, and she looked angry enough to make Erik realize that he was treading on thin ice.

"No, I'm not getting in the boat," she raised her voice. "I'm not doing any lessons next week and I'm not doing a lesson today, either!"

She turned on her heel and stormed off, down the tunnel they had just come from.

Erik stood dumbstruck as he watched her leave. What had just happened? Any minute now, any minute she would return and they would go to his house and everything would be normal again. She'd agree that he was right and Raoul wouldn't even factor into next week. She would return him any minute now... wouldn't she?

Seconds ticked by.

"Christine!" he called out, but there was no answer.

Panic ripped through his chest and he felt like he could no longer breathe. What had he done? In his fear of losing her to the boy's charms, he had driven her away, and now he really had lost her. What a wretch he was, to treat her like that and demand things of her. The tunnels weren't safe - he had boobytrapped them in places - she was going to get hurt! And when she did get hurt, it would be all his fault, all because he had behaved an unmannered, jealous boor.

He scrambled to grab the lantern from the front of the boat and step back up into the shore, and then he chased after her.

"Christine!"

She heard his voice ring out distantly behind her, and she broke into a run. She wished the tunnels weren't so awfully dark, but there was no way she was going to turn around and ask for his help or go back on her word of not having a lesson. Why couldn't he have just listened to her? Why did he have to act like that? It had been so unlike him.

She slowed her pace to a fast walk, a little uncertain of what exactly lay ahead in the tunnels since she was unable to see. Soon she could hear the sound of Erik's footfalls echoing down the tunnel - it sounded like he was running, and she still kept forging ahead but she was too afraid the dark to run again.

The light of the lantern eventually reached her as he caught up. She had gotten farther than he would have thought, pushing ahead with her chin tilted up defiantly and her shoulders stiff and one hand trailing across the wall so she wouldn't lose her way.

He ceased running and slowed until he was walking right next to her. He looked her up and down in the lantern light, but she seemed to be unharmed. Very angry, but unharmed. He said nothing, continuing to walk beside her and look at her worriedly.

She shot a harsh glance or two at him, never slowing past her fast walk.

"Are you here to drag me back to your house and make me sing even though I don't wish to?" she asked hotly.

He flinched.

"No. I am here to escort you back upstairs, since that is where you wish to be."

They went on in silence for a moment longer. She was grateful for the light, but she couldn't bring herself to thank him.

It was their first true fight since the one that had ended so badly. She hated it, and hoped that it wasn't a sign of things to come.

"Forgive me, Christine," he said finally and lowered his eyes. "I should not have spoken to you like that."

"That's right, you shouldn't have," she retorted.

He fiddled with the lantern uncomfortably, uncertain of if this was, perhaps, the last time they would be walking through the tunnels together.

"You aren't my keeper, Erik," she continued, glancing at him again. "I am my own mistress - no one decides my actions but me. If I wish to take time off, I shall. And how I spend that time is up to me and me alone."

He nodded.

"I don't need someone to tell me what to do or who I can see or where I can go. Not you, not anyone. I'd appreciate it if you didn't so again in the future."

He stifled a sigh of relief at her words of the future.

"Of course, Christine. I forgot myself. I won't do it again."

She gave a little nod.

"See that you don't," her tone was anything but harsh, but the words still struck him to his core.

He dared a glance at her, and found she was looking him without any of her previous anger, with what he almost might call fondness, and he realized then and there that if he ever did lose her, if they ever were to part on bad terms, it wouldn't be because of the boy or anyone or anything else - it would be because he himself had driven her away. He would have to be vigilant, then, that he didn't have any outbursts that might upset her into leaving.

"You know that I've always taken your advice into consideration and you know that I try my best to follow your direction as my tutor, but - it's important to me, Erik, that I'm the only one who gets to decide the course of my life," she said softly. "There's enough people out there - enough men - who would seek to decide my life for me, or to control my actions, or remind me of what they think my place is, and I don't want you to be one of them."

His brow furrowed, considering her words.

"What men?" he asked suddenly.

He would have words with these men, and he would bring his Punjab Lasso, as well. Just in case.

She sighed.

"I didn't mean it like that. But, well - I'm often told that men wouldn't want a performer for a wife. As if I'd care so much about being someone's wife! But it's difficult, you know - everyone has an opinion on how a girl should live nowadays, and they aren't shy to speak up when you step outside what they think is proper. Being a singer, it seems, is not very proper after all. And if they aren't giving advice, they're making assumptions about what one might be doing, as if it were any of their business in the first place! It's just- it's stifling, Erik," she explained. "And you've never been stifling to me before, and I'd be terribly disappointed if you were to start. I don't need you to fully understand my reasons or my point of view on this, but I do need you to accept that that's how it is for me and I need you to support my decisions."

Erik listened to her as she told him all this. He had never really given much thought to how Christine was treated outside the opera house - he had, perhaps foolishly, assumed that for the most part her life would be easy. Easy to deal with people, easy to get along with others, just... Easy. She certainly didn't face the kinds of difficulties he would face out there - but perhaps she faced a good deal of difficulties anyway. He had a lot to think about, now. Erik knew all too well what it was like to have one's life controlled, to have to no say in the plotting of his future - his childhood in the circus and then as a young man in the service of the Sultana had seen to that, and he would never forget that oppressive feeling. Did Christine feel controlled like that? By society? By him, now? He hadn't meant to make her feel like that. She didn't deserve it. She had always seemed so strong in her convictions about how she lived her life, so happy with her choices, that he had never stopped to think that she might be troubled by the expectations of others even as she defied them.

"I will try to keep that in mind, Christine," he said quietly.

They reached the mirror in her dressing room and Erik undid the latch for her, rolling it back. He tried to hide the sadness he felt deep in his soul - if he hadn't let his jealous fear get the best of him, hadn't snapped at her and tried to order her about, they could have been down in his home having tea at this very moment. It hurt, but it was his own fault.

She stepped down into her dressing room and smoothed out her skirt before turning to look up at him. He struggled to find words to speak.

"Enjoy your week with the boy, my dear," he said gently. "I'll see you the Tuesday after next, for our lesson?"

She smiled.

"Thank you, Erik," she said sincerely. "I'll see you then."

He gripped the side of the mirror's frame as he watched her leave her dressing room. He had learned an important lesson in dealing with Christine Daaé, but he wished terribly that the last moments they had together before she took her leave of him had been more pleasant. He didn't think they had been apart this long since she had fled the opera house after he had revealed himself to her. He was going to miss her so much, even though he knew she would be returning. He stared after the closed door and sighed before turning and locking the mirror once more, returning alone to his silent, empty little house by the lake.

Christine walked down the hallways of the opera house, a little at a loss of what to do. She had already set aside several hours to spend with Erik, but suddenly she found those hours were freed up for other use. Perhaps she shouldn't have stormed off so and canceled their lesson, but she hadn't know how to impress upon him how serious she was about it otherwise. She was pleased, though, that he had seemed to understand, even giving her his approval before they had parted (though, of course, she had fully intended to spend her week with Raoul regardless of if he had approved or not).

She wished, of course, that she had been able to give him advance warning - maybe he would have taken it better had he been eased into the idea that she would be taking time off - but the truth of the matter was that she herself hadn't even found out that Raoul was returning until she had received his letter the previous day. She surely would have told Erik sooner had she known sooner.

Still, she was rather irked at how he had responded at first. She wondered, for a moment, what she would have done had he insisted and stood his ground on thinking that she 'shouldn't be going out at all'. Would she have ceased lessons with him altogether, if that had been the case? It made her a little sad to think it, but she felt she would have. She valued her freedom too much to barter it away like that, tempting though it would be. What use would it be to sing like the most beautiful of birds if she was also in a cage? She was terribly glad that he had relented on the matter, and she dearly hoped he wouldn't do it again. It wasn't just about better learning how to use her voice that made her glad she could continue with him - she was glad that she would still be able to keep his company, too. She would miss him if she was no longer doing lessons. But - she would miss him and be free, that much she was certain about. Painful though it would be, she didn't want to trade her freedom for anything. She would find a way to achieve her goals with or without him.

She pushed such dreary thoughts from her mind and decided to take a walk by the Seine.

Erik, meanwhile was taking a walk by the bank of the underground lake - or rather, he was pacing near the lake, his mind consumed with replaying what had happened earlier.

Christine was not like the other opera divas, she was not a girl prone to fits of fancy or storming off, theatrics or dramatics - and that's what so unsettled him about what had happened. When she had turned around and left, she wasn't just pulling an act. She had been serious.

His deceit had not driven away. His face had not succeeded in driving her away. No, she had still returned to him after all those things. But this - this was what would cause her to leave him. He swallowed hard.

He had assumed, he supposed, that she would simply listen to him, that she would take him at his word and follow what he told her. He was, after all, her teacher, and she had always listened to him in the past.

For a brief moment he wanted to blame her seeming sudden rebellion on that boy's influence, but his rational mind told him that he had, in fact, overstepped his bounds.

He sighed.

It was the off-season at the opera, and although the ballet rats still had to practice (Christine included), there were no upcoming performances or rehearsals, so Christine had been right in saying that a mere week off would not be too harmful, and they both knew it. With his lack of any proper reasoning, of course he had overstepped his boundaries with her, just the same as if he had sought to control any other facet of her personal life that didn't relate to singing - it simply wasn't his place.

But even still the panic would come back at intervals, bubbling up in his chest until he thought he couldn't stand it.

He stared miserably out across the dark water. He was losing her.

He thought, briefly, of asking the Daroga for advice on it all, but quickly dismissed the idea. The Daroga was a meddling old fool, even if he did give good advice... sometimes. He could just picture how it would go - Erik would spill his heart out to him and he'd probably sit and nod serenely like an idiot, pretending to be sage and wise and then he'd say something that had no practical use at all, not at all what Erik was looking for. He still remembered one time in Persia when the great loon had stood there on a balcony with him, looking out across the sea of sand to the horizon where the sun was setting, and how the Daroga had started to wax poetic about the nature of love - how it was like a flower in the field that you had to admire from afar, how if you attempted to possess it for yourself it would wither and wilt like a cut flower in a vase - and Erik had truly thought the man had lost it. (What use did Erik have for love?) At least the Daroga had probably thought it was poetic - Erik had thought it was a great load of bunk at the time.

He scrambled to his feet. That was it! Flowers! Women loved flowers, that was the general consensus on the matter. He would give her flowers.

He had already apologized, yes, but he was still haunted by the thought that perhaps he had planted the seed of discontent in her - or perhaps she had been wavering for a long time about whether or not to leave him, and now he had helped her to make up her mind. What if- What if she didn't even come back after the week with Raoul? What if she and he ran off and got married and she just didn't return at all?

He clutched the wall of the tunnels while the world spun nauseatingly around him.

No, no - she couldn't leave him like that - it couldn't end like that!

He took a tremulous breath, trying to calm the racing of his heart.

A voice in his head screamed at him to follow her, to see where she was going and what she was doing - if he shadowed her during her week off, he'd surely know for certain if she was planning to leave him, and he could find a way to stop her.

But no - no, he couldn't do that, he realized. He couldn't stop her from leaving without making her his prisoner, and how could he do that to her? She truly would hate him, then. He would hate himself if he did that to her - if he trapped her underground, he'd never see her little smile anymore, her pretty hair would grow dull and her complexion pale, she'd waste away into nothing, nothing but hate and spite and bitterness. He couldn't do that to his poor Christine. He would just have to trust her, difficult though it would be - trust that she would return, and if she didn't- well, he would just have to trust that she knew what was best for her, and didn't he want what was best for her? And how could he have thought he was what was best for her?

He pushed off of the wall, sniffling a bit. A week without Christine. It seemed so long already, but not as long as a lifetime without her would feel.