Sorry I took so long, but I've started two other stories and I read Susan Kay's Phantom (It rocked by the way!). I won't bother you with the rest of my excuses.

You know the drill: I do not own Phantom of the Opera.

Please feel free to enjoy and/or review.

Life under the opera house settled into an almost comfortable rhythm for Erik and Christine. Christine's aversion to the deformed man had lessened since she decided that he was a friend, or something close to it. Christine's attitude towards Erik made him ecstatic; he thought he was getting more than he deserved. At times, he still wanted more, but he never said that aloud. Her presence was enough to make him content, when he was in a good mood. For her, he would overlook the wound that his unrequited love had slashed through is heart and try to take advantage of her now-ubiquitous presence and be, not exactly cheerful, but something jollier than the customary state of depression that he'd always lived in before. However, Christine often thought of Raoul, Meg, and Madame Giry. Her mind often wandered to thoughts of what they were doing. Although Erik provided for Christine's needs well, he couldn't provide her with something she had been yearning for since she moved in with Raoul, her best friend, Meg. She knew that she could trust Erik never to betray any of her secrets, but her relationship with him lacked the sisterly bond that connected her with Meg, the bond that made Meg the one person that Christine trusted with any piece of information. Erik, on the other hand was too reactive to confide in completely. For her to tell him how hurt and angry Raoul had made her feel could result in Raoul's death, which Christine didn't want, even though she despised him. Nevertheless, this didn't take away from the blossoming friendship that was beginning to develop between Christine and Erik. Neither of them expected to have a sisterly relationship akin to Christine and Meg's. Christine had been longing for a close female friend to talk to for a while. Raoul had been the only one she felt comfortable confiding in there. And look what ended up happening with him. The last time she had spoken to Meg was backstage during Don Juan Triumphant, before they were yelled at for talking in the wings during the performance. Understandably, Raoul had been in a hurry to leave after they left Erik's lair, and she never got the chance to say good-bye to her friend. The lack of a decent good-bye before such a long separation disquieted Christine.

"Have you spoken to Madame Giry?" Christine inquired one evening at dinner.

"No, I haven't. The trains aren't running, as you know," Erik had answered dully.

"Oh." Christine sighed, but tried to hide her disappointment by taking another bite. She already knew the trains weren't running through first hand experience.

After that, the pair returned to their usual mealtime quiet. If Mme. Giry wasn't coming in person, then she wouldn't send a letter to the Paris opera house, care of the ghost. She was the only one, excepting Christine, that could go down to deliver Erik's mail, if he got any, without dying or being otherwise maimed. It looked like Christine wouldn't hear from either of the Girys until the trains started running or the opera house was finished being repaired. That could be a long time from now. The girl despaired.

Being in the house on the lake was making Christine restless. There was nothing for her to do. Her boredom made her miss Meg and Madame Giry even more. The absence of a confidante was causing the ferocious cycle. And she felt as though she would burst if she couldn't tell Meg all that she needed to. She would even settle for talking to Mme. Giry.

Although she tried to hide it, Erik could see that Christine wasn't happy. Before the events after Don Juan, he would have let her go already, only wanting her to be happy, but losing her once had hardened him. He promised himself that if he had another chance again, Christine would remain with him. No matter what. When he let her go after the kiss, he had not been thinking straight, delusional with happiness that she would do such a thing, rendered senseless with love. Now his life had become the depressing hellhole that it had been before, he realized what a grave mistake he had made, possibly detrimental to his satisfaction. The possessive nature that had always been inherently a part of Erik was so...enraged that he lost possession of the one thing in life that still mattered to him and he couldn't bear to lose. Fool! He mentally berated himself countless times during those bleak days. So, for now at least, Christine would remain in the house on the lake, whether she liked it or not because Erik had made a promise to himself that it would destroy him to break.

Then next week and a half became exceedingly monotonous for Christine. She was used to a routine from the strict schedule Madame Giry kept for the ballet rats, but, there was nothing for her to do to amuse herself except sing and talk to Erik, and Erik was not the best conversationalist. For Christine, time became almost immaterial in Erik's lair. She never knew what time it was unless she asked Erik, who carried an old battered-looking pocket watch. Even then, she didn't know if it was day or night. She could have become completely nocturnal and never know it! An unexpected visitor interrupted their strange, yet quiet life one day. She came when they were eating. With Erik, there was not a routine, so they simply ate when they were hungry. Usually, this still ended up to be around normal mealtimes. Neither of them spoke much during meals; that was another thing that Christine had found, it was easy to be quiet with Erik.

The peaceful hush that had taken root under the opera was suddenly shattered by the piecing sound of Erik's siren.

Christine nearly dropped her fork in surprise. "Who could that be?" she asked apprehensively.

Erik stood up quickly and didn't answer her. Although she couldn't see his face, Christine could tell that he was incensed, especially by his brusque action. Lately, she had improved in reading Erik's body language, but she still could not predict his impossibly capricious moods.

Without a word, he departed. Christine assumed that he was going to see what was causing the awful din, but with Erik, one never knew for sure. She stood up to follow him and, the noise disappeared as suddenly as it came. Christine paused a few feet away from the door; the sudden absence of the siren's wail created a strange, vacuum-like emptiness. In truth, she was a little frightened. Entering Erik's lair was most likely death for anyone who entered the house on the lake. Except her. Despite herself, Christine smiled. Being the only one allowed here is almost... special. Then, her more logical side rebuked her. Of course, you are allowed here. You live here. She had never thought of it that way. Odd. She had never considered living with Erik in that sense before. It seemed more like she was staying with a friend for a visit than actually calling the labyrinthine structure under the opera house her home. Is this my home now?

Footsteps interrupted her thoughts suddenly. Erik was back, and he was accompanied by someone else. Someone Christine had wanted to see for ages. But how had she gotten here? At the moment, it didn't matter to Christine. She was here; they could speak about how she arrived later. Upon seeing the visitor, Christine's face lit up in a way it hadn't since Erik was simply her Angel of Music, heaven-sent, one of the few lights in the dark time in her life.

"Hello!" Christine gushed, "Erik this is wonderful!"

"I have to agree with you," he replied. Judging from his tone, he was smiling, not that she could see behind his mask.

Forgetting herself for a moment, Christine launched herself into the newcomer's arms as a small child would when being picked up from nursery school.

"How did you get here?" she asked wonderingly.

"I'll explain to you, my dear. It is a long story," the newcomer said.