Christine was in an upstairs bedroom, rocking roughly on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chin, her hair in disarray and falling over her face. There were bars on the inside of the window. Less conspicuous than putting them outside and serving the same purpose- keeping her in. She had a small lamp lit, mounted high up on the wall and encased in a steel cage. He had climbed a tree to sit outside her window. He wasn't sure he should speak to her yet. He was debating when she suddenly looked up. Nothing in her eyes registered reality. They were distant, staring blindly, and bereft of any sanity.

"Erik! Oh, I'm so sorry! I should never have left! You were my angel and I left you to rot in hell!" she wailed, reaching her little hands out to him. For a moment, he thought she might throw herself against the bars in her quest for absolution. But she really wasn't seeing him, just a hallucination of him. Her eyes never fixed on him, but something far off in her own head.

"Tell me you forgive me! Tell me you understand!" she cried. Erik heard something deeper in the house and quickly pulled away from the window.

"You died for me and I left you and you died for me…" she chanted. Erik turned his head. This was too much, seeing her like this. Because of him. Raoul entered the room and Erik pulled further back into the shadows.

"Goodnight, Christine," Raoul said, speaking softly and carefully, as if to a very frightened child. Christine shook her head.

"Nighttime is his time," she told him. "Erik's time. I remember. He gave me lessons only at night and he only moves at night."

"Erik is dead, Christine," Raoul said, almost harshly.

"Erik is dead. Erik is dead and Christine lives and we left him," Christine chanted.

"Yes, we left him so we could be together without his insane influence! We left him so he could die alone!" Raoul snapped. Christine began to sob inconsolably again.

"He died for me, didn't he?" she whimpered.

"Christine…"

"He will forgive me, won't he? I want him to forgive me! He died for me!" she cried out.

"Christine, Erik died for no one. He died alone because of what he did to you, remember?" Raoul said. This was obviously something that had been repeated to her quite a few times. Christine huddled herself tighter on the bed. When Raoul reached out to touch her she shook her head madly and moved away.

"No! I killed him! He died for me, as you said! I don't deserve anything!" she wailed. Raoul shook his head, defeated, and left the room. Erik heard the sound of a lock sliding home and ground his teeth in rage. No wonder she wasn't getting any better, the boy was making it worse! He waited a moment and began to sing. He sang to her, just as he had all those many nights when he taught her to sing like an angel, when her music filled his heart with love.

"Erik?" she whispered, her eyes fixing on him at last. She smiled, but it had an odd edge to it.

"Tell me it's you and not another hallucination!" she cried. Her eyes cleared completely and she was on her knees before the window, her frail hands grasping the bars.

"I am here, Christine," he said.

"Forgive me! You died for me and I beg your forgiveness for leaving when you needed me the most!" she sobbed, her hands reaching through the bars and pressing against the glass, as if trying desperately to touch him and reassure herself this was not only a dream, and that the forgiveness she craved would be awarded her.

"I am real, Christine, and I forgive you. Don't be sad anymore. Come back to the world," he whispered. She dissolved into sobs, but they sounded different this time, somehow.

"There was never anything to forgive, Christine," he told her, pressing his hand against the window beneath hers. She went on crying, but it sounded cleansed. She would get better, but first he had to try to find away to free her. Raoul was the one driving her crazy, not him! Now completely enraged, Erik sprang down from the tree, ready to barge inside and kill the boy where he stood. As he landed, a hand grabbed his shoulder. Erik whirled, lifting the intruder off the ground and slamming him heavily into the tree he'd just descended.

"I wouldn't do that, Erik!" Sweeney gagged. He must have been standing in the shadows of the tree, although how long he'd been there, Erik couldn't say. He threw Sweeney to the ground, irritated that he'd allowed someone to sneak up on him.

"What the hell are you doing? Following me?" Erik hissed. Sweeney held a finger to his lips and grabbed Erik's arm. Erik roughly shook him off.

"You can't kill him now," Sweeney said. "I just came from the road and there are already whispers of a man outside the "haunted" Chagney house. Someone will be coming to investigate soon, once enough people mention it for Scotland Yard to come out here. And no, I didn't follow you. The information flows free enough in London I knew where they were and figured you would be out here. Now come along!" Erik growled low in his throat and followed Sweeney back to Fleet Street.

Sweeney sat and thought. He was not panicking. What good did panicking ever do anyone? No, he was just thinking. Erik finding Christine early wasn't as much of a problem as it could have been, but Todd still needed to have the judge in his shop to put his plan in motion and needed Erik to remain there and not go running off with his little strumpet. But she was locked in, which was a plus. Sweeney needed the judge or the beadle here now!

"He said by the end of the week. Where the hell is he?" Sweeney grumbled. Mrs. Lovett rolled her eyes and Erik huffed in his corner. The masked man had taken to sitting in the far-back corner of Sweeney's shop, the one with the most shadows. Thin as he was with his spindly legs angling out from the stool he sat on, he looked like a spider. Sweeney noticed that if the light hit him just right, his eyes would glow like a cat's.

"Who says the week has ended? It's Tuesday!" Mrs Lovett chided gently.

"And how on earth is getting the beadle or the judge to come here going to help me rescue Christine?" Erik asked.

"Well, if we get the Beadle, we can get the judge here. If we get the judge here, we can have him arrest her lover and then you'll have her all to yourself." Sweeney replied coolly.

"Sounds like an idiot plan. What makes you think he's going to just lock Raoul up?" Erik snapped. Sweeney gave him a heavy look, and, after a beat, Erik grunted and shrugged.

"First hand, I forgot. Well, then, why can't we go and just send a letter of demand? I used to do it all the time." he said with a mild chuckle. Sweeney shrugged. Oh, I will... he thought. Suddenly, the door burst open and Anthony rushed in.

"Oh, Mr. Todd! It took me forever to find you, but then I finally noticed the barber's pole out front!" he gasped. He seemed to have been running for some time.

"What have you been doing?" Sweeny asked, clearly annoyed with the boy's behavior.

"Or who?" Erik added from just behind Anthony's shoulder. No one had seen him move. Anthony jumped violently, moving quickly away from the taller man. He ran into Mrs. Lovett, who he had not noticed up to then.

"Ma'am, I'm...." he babbled.

"That's Mrs. Lovett, Anthony," Sweeney said, simply. Anthony gave her a short bow before turning back to Todd.

"I have just found the fairest, most wonderful, sublime woman on the face of this green earth, Mr. Todd! She has the most tyrannical, awful guardian who keeps her shut away in the house!" he cried.

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair," Erik muttered sarcastically. Anthony glanced at him and gave him a smile.

"Oh, she has the most beautiful blonde hair! And she is a princess locked away in a tower; her eyes are so sad as she stares down from her window, just like Rapunzel, sir," he sighed, oblivious to Erik's jab. Erik and Sweeney exchanged glances, Erik's brow creasing in a dangerous frown.

"Her name wouldn't happen to be Christine, would it?" Erik asked ominously.

"Christine? Oh, no, that's your girl, Mr. Erik! Her name is Johanna," Anthony replied, speaking the name like a prayer. Erik visibly relaxed, and Sweeney stiffened. Anthony appeared to remain completely dumb to the odd tension sinking in around him. He dug in his pocket and produced a large key.

"It's proof Johanna loves me, see! She threw down her key to me so that I may rescue her!" he announced, cradling it like a sacred talisman. Once again, Erik and Sweeney exchanged glances. What little color Sweeney had was quickly draining from his face.

"Bring her here after the rescue, lover-boy. We will help you as you helped us." Erik said. Anthony turned to Todd and Mrs. Lovett.

"Yes, bring her here," Mrs. Lovett agreed. Todd stared at her for a moment, then nodded.

"She may come here," he whispered. Anthony seized his hand, shaking it until Todd's entire body moved, but Sweeney barely reacted to it. Anthony then kissed Mrs. Lovett on her cheek and even shook Erik's hand.

"I'll be forever grateful for this!" he exclaimed, practically dancing out the door. The three remaining stood in stunned silence.

"Well, then, that's certainly a twist, now isn't it?" Mrs. Lovett said, breaking their silence, "You'll have your little girl back! Reunited in no time!" Sweeney glared at her.

"For ten minutes, before he runs off with her to the ends of the earth," he grumbled irritably.

"Just have your spidery friend over here take care of him, then, or better yet, take care of the judge so no one will come looking and they'll stay here," Mrs. Lovett suggested. Erik stayed quiet. Yet another young pretty girl being stolen away by her young beau. That sounded awfully familiar. He might actually "take care" of Anthony for Todd, more as practice than a favor. He twirled Sweeney's old razor through his fingers, making it disappear and reappear, old sleight of hand tricks that had served him well over the years. But for now, he wanted to see Christine. He had spent several nights outside her window, but had not spoken to her again. It was a risk, and he was very aware he could be caught and the whole thing would be ruined, but he could not tear himself away. He politely excused himself and headed towards Christine's house. As he left, Mrs. Lovett began to go down to her shop.

"You know, Johanna and your Christine-girl would probably be friends if they met. It could be one big happy family," she twittered. Erik grabbed her arm. She grunted in pain, but didn't otherwise react. He hauled her through the backdoor of her shop.

"In which case, why haven't you told him his wife is alive, Mrs. Lovett?" he asked coldly. She stopped short, her mouth working for a moment, but no words came out.

"Because I don't want him to see her like that!" she stammered finally.

"Don't lie, Mrs. Lovett. I don't like liars," Erik said, very softly. She tried to shove him away, but his grip only tightened on her arm.

"Get off me! It's none of your business, Frenchie!" she snarled.

"Tell me what he's planning and I won't tell him she's alive. He will go on ignorant of her…new life and you shall continue to try to work your way into what little heart he has left," he said.

"Like he ever tells me anything!" she hissed, trying to push him away again. Erik gripped harder, now with both hands. She twisted one arm free and clawed at his face, only succeeding in yanking the mask off. As it came away, Erik dropped her, freezing for a moment, before reaching murderous hands for her throat, ready to squeeze the life out of her. But she only gasped in surprise, no screaming in terror, no fainting.

"Dearie me, you weren't joking, were you? Lordy, how did that happen?" she asked. It sounded as if she were merely asking how Erik had fallen and bumped his head. He was so surprised he forgot about his intentions to kill her.

"What? Haven't you seen some of the ugly gits around London? You're not even half bad by them!" she chided. Erik was still in shock.

"I daresay, that is quite a shocker, though. I can see why you're so creepy," she added.

"I don't frighten you?" Erik asked stupidly.

"Oh, you scare the hell out of me alright, but it's because you're barking mad and I keep thinking you're going to slaughter us all in our sleep," she replied. Erik shook his head.

"I'm not going to slaughter anyone. I need to know if he may place Christine in danger to further his own plans. You love him and want to make him safe. I want to make sure my girl is safe," he lied. Oh, I need to know that too, but I really need to know if I'm the scapegoat here, he thought. The mention of her love for Todd softened her a bit and Mrs. Lovett shrugged.

"I don't know. I will tell you if I find out if you keep your mouth shut," she said, handing him his mask. Erik replaced it on his face and swept out of the shop. As he left, Mrs. Lovett pondered the bruises on her arms and how close he had come to strangling her. He had meant to kill her right there, but her lack of fear had saved her. It had been a frightening sight - there was no nose, his eyes were small and yellow like a cat's and were set so far back in his head as to look like a skull. But she had not faltered. She was a strong woman in hard times, for frightened women in hard times rarely lived to see the year out. Mrs. Nellie Lovett was only afraid of one thing in those hard times- losing the madman sulking away upstairs…