A/N: Special thank you to Juliemaggie for telling me what the police chief was called in France during this time period! I'm hoping I don't massacre any other historical details.

"What would you have done if I'd left?"

I'd wanted to ask this question for a while, but I was afraid Erik would take it badly. In reality, I was just confused. I would have thought nothing would have convinced him to let me go. My chin was resting on his chest as we lay in bed, my eyes glued to his. At my question, he sighed and turned his face away.

"Don't ask me that, love. It doesn't matter anymore."

"Would you have come after me?"

"No. Not if it's what you wanted."

I know it's unfair, but his words stung a bit. Was his love really that fragile? That fleeting? "How could you just let me go? You said you never would again."

WIth a huff, he sat up against the headboard, disturbing my posture and throwing me on the side of the bed. "What, Christine? You would want me to be your jailer?"

"No, but-"

His voice was hard with anger. "I am in love with a selfish creature. You want to be free of me, but you want me beholden to you, yes? You like knowing that I am devoted to you, but you don't wish to make the same commitment? Fear not, my dear, I haven't lied to you in a long while. I would let you go, but I would never live without you. Your ego is safe." He threw off the covers and walked to the door, bare.

"Wait!" I shouted, and his footsteps ceased. I supposed he could hear the desperation. "What do you mean… You would never… Erik, you wouldn't-?"

With his back still to me, he said, "You're everything, Christine. I won't go on without you, but I don't want that to be the reason you stay anymore."

The enormity of what he was saying crashed down on me. To be so completely responsible for another person's happiness… for a life… it was almost too much. Erik waited another moment, and when I didn't say anything, he grabbed a pair of trousers off the chair and strode out of the room. Tears filled my eyes, but I didn't let them fall. He was right- I was selfish. I had stumbled into this love headfirst without thinking of any consequences, just as I had stumbled into love with music. Just as I had stumbled into love with Raoul. For a moment, I wished I were someone like Meg, who had a mother to do all her thinking for her, and to tell her at every turn what the right decision was. I loved Erik with my whole being, but was I strong enough, smart enough, loyal enough to keep him safe? I couldn't keep him safe from me, let alone the world that was so cruelly waiting outside. My God, the terror of losing him was all-consuming. What would the world be like without him? I couldn't bear it.

I forced the tears back and clenched my fist. I had to be. That's just it- I had to be strong enough. We'd taken the plunge, and we were already in the middle of the fray together. There was no turning back, and Erik knew it. Now I knew it too- I needed him just as much as he needed me. It made neither of us weak unless we wavered. If we faced it together, we'd be stronger for it. I just knew it.

When I found him, he was in the back garden, looking at the horses in the stable, dressed in nothing but his trousers. "Erik," I called when I was a few paces behind him. He turned to face me, his face dark and cold. "I will never force you to make a decision like that again." He stayed still, just looking at me. "I'm yours and you're mine. You're mine, Erik. I will not allow anyone to destroy what's mine, not even you. Now come and kiss me."

We stared at each other for a moment. "No," Erik said, and it was a knife in my heart. Then he lifted the corner of his mouth in a wry smile. "You come and kiss me." I ran the few feet between us and threw myself at him. He caught me, yanking my legs around his waist, and I kissed him like I was drowning and he was air.

""""

Raoul leaned forward in his seat and placed his hand on the commissaire's desk. "You're absolutely certain, monsieur?"

The man was, frankly, a bit disgusted by the desperate tone of the young vicomte's voice. It didn't fit a man of his stature, especially not over some opera slut who wasn't even his wife. "No, not certain, Vicomte, but it is encouraging. The man was tall, thin, and arrived on a black horse. He bought one sturdy mare, in cash. He kept his face covered the whole time. It's not much, but it's a place to start. The man who sold the horse said that the man woke him late at night, bought the horse, and rode into the countryside. East, along the Marne, he thinks."

"Excellent! When do we ride out?"

The commissaire rubbed a hand over his tired face. "Monsieur, by now they may have left the country. At the very least, we can assume they've made it past Meaux. Which means that they are in another municipality. I would have to organize my forces with the six or so municipalities from here until Reims."

The vicomte blinked. "And?"

"And I can't devote that many resources to a search of this magnitude. When they were still in Paris, it made sense. Now…"

"He is a murderer! He's kidnapped Christine Daae! You cannot let him escape."

"Monsieur, truly, there is nothing more I can do. I'm sorry. If you wish to continue searching, you'll have to do so on your own, using your own investigators."

"You must help me! You must. We'll… we'll withdraw all support. Your aspirations for political office will be ruined!" There was a frantic glint in the man's eye.

The commissaire raised his eyebrows and sat back in his seat. "Frankly, sir, I'd rather lose your support than be the man who wasted countless hours and coins hunting one murderer who took a willing woman."

""""

Back inside the cabin, I plundered Erik's mouth over and over again. We stood in front of the dying fire and wrapped ourselves around one another. "Whatever shall we do now, Christine?" Erik murmured against my mouth.

I smiled. "Whatever you like."

His hands slid to either side of my waist. "Whatever I like?"

I answered with a slow nod, my bottom lip between my teeth. Erik's one perfect eyelid dropped a bit in lust and his breath hissed out between his teeth. "I've always wanted…"

My pulse quickened. "Yes?"

Erik moved me to stand in the middle of the room and told me to stay there. I waited while he stoked the fireplace back to life. Then, he brought the armchair beside the fire, facing it to me, so that my front was to him, and my right side was to the fire. He sat in the chair and placed both hands on the armrests. "Sing for me."

I blinked. "Erik, I've sang for you before."

"Ah, yes." He rose, his lust-filled eyes focused on mine. "But never like this." His hands slid over my shoulders, bringing my sleeves down my arms and forcing the nightgown to fall off my body. The warmth of the fire played over my skin and Erik's hands cast shadows over my shivering body. He backed away, his eyes roving over me. "Please sing. Anything." He sat back down.

For a moment, I felt ridiculous, but then I saw Erik there, breathing hard, staring into me. I began to sing, the notes clear and strong. I don't even know what song it was, I just knew that my knees were as weak as my voice was strong, and there was a growing throb between my legs. My confidence grew with every note, and I saw it when Erik's eyes rolled back in their sockets at a particularly strong crescendo. I walked to him, like I had when we sang during Don Juan. When he looked back at me, I was right in front of him. I ran my hand over his hair, tangling it at the back of his head. His eyes closed again and his mouth dropped open. My hands slid over him, across his chest, over his back, my breasts a whisper from his face. He never touched me, and I felt so powerful, so strong and beautiful. My hands drifted lower, and I went with them, eventually kneeling on the floor in front of him, my hands on his thighs. I didn't stop singing until my song was finished and the last, clear note hung in the air.

His fingers were white from gripping the arms of the chair and I could see his length straining against his trousers. Riding my wave of power and arousal, I slowly undid the fastenings at his waist, freeing him. I took his length in my hand and moved it up and down, gently. He threw his head back against the chair and let his breath out in a hiss. I looked up to see him draw his bottom lip into his teeth.

"How was my performance, Master?" I murmured. He moaned, deep and guttural. "You'll have to be more specific," I teased. I leaned closer to him, letting my words whisper warmth across his bare skin. "What about my breath? Was it strong enough?" I held my mouth just over him. "Was my voice clear? Was my tongue agile, or did I fuddle my words?" I licked the top of him, just as he'd done to me many times, and his hips jerked. Finally, he looked down at me, in wonder and lust. "Perhaps I just need more practice." I took him into my mouth, moving as gently as I could.

His hand left the arm of the chair to brush against my hair. "God, Christine!" he gasped. "Faster!"

I followed his commands, relishing in the sounds I was pulling from him, the way I could hold him hostage with my mouth. I moved my hand with my mouth, trying to replicate the pleasure he gave me. It wasn't long before his breathing became even more ragged and his hips began to thrust upward, a bit too deep. Just as it started to become too much, he spent inside my mouth, and I swallowed it down.

He slumped into the chair, completely relaxed, and I crawled into his lap with a smug smirk. "Well?"

"Perfect. Absolute perfection."