Whooooo almost forgot to post today? You guessed right, it was meeee! I blame a heavy dose of PMS. And Advil. And hot water bottles. And too many episodes of Criminal Minds.

Anyway, you don't want to hear about that. Yooou want to know who has Christine!

So, onward!

XIV

Christine had awoken slowly.

She shifted slightly between the sheets, her limbs free and unencumbered by the warm lump they had grown so accustomed to contorting around so as not to disturb her bedfellow.

The sheets felt different. While hers were softened with age and frequent washing, these were an unfamiliar kind of soft, as if the fibers themselves had been especially crafted for a luxuriating sleep, rather than beaten into submission from years of use.

The pillow was plumper, the scent different—as if the expensive brand of fabric softener had been employed rather than whatever was on sale.

Her thoughts were fuzzy as she at last opened her eyes to peer about the room, certain that she would see Boo waiting on the floor for his breakfast, her thoughts of the strange bedding an elaborate illusion from a mind not yet fully rested.

But as she glanced about, there was nothing remotely similar about the room to the little studio apartment she had called home for so long.

For a moment she felt almost numb as she tried to make sense of her new surroundings, but when a figure appeared from the corner, tall and imposing and his face covered fully in a mask, her fear emerged, strong and forceful.

"Stay away from me!" She tugged at the blankets as she brought them up almost like a shield, then scoffed at herself for her stupidity. As if they would be of any real use if he… if his intentions were to…

"Your fear is not nearly as becoming as your smile. You were not so scared of me before."

The room was dark, no morning sunlight breaking through flimsy curtains, a warm reminder that even in the midst of winter there was reason to get up to begin the day.

Instead there was only a single lamp in the far corner, doing little to illuminate the space and causing menacing shadows to cling and quiver as the man moved toward her.

"Stop moving!"

To her relative surprise he obeyed, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "I shall repeat, there is no reason to be so frightened. You are perfectly safe."

She tried to quell her panic, tried to calm her racing heart so she could think better. Her eyes scanned the room, landing on the door with intense longing.

"If you would prefer to continue our conversation in the living room, that would be most acceptable."

Her gaze flickered back to him, not at all understanding his calm demeanor as she tried to process his initial words. "What did you mean, 'before'?"

He sighed and took a tentative step closer. Maybe he only meant it to be a small movement, but with his natural stride it brought him uncomfortably near to the bed.

To her.

She recoiled, her back pressed firmly against the headboard.

And perhaps absurdly, she wanted to dive back under the covers and pray to awaken in her own apartment, all of this merely a dream.

"Calm yourself, Christine. I can practically hear your heart beat with terror. There is no need. You are safe and I mean you no harm."

She stared at him incredulously. "No harm? You took me from my home!"

Thoughts of home sent a new wave of distress as she pictured poor Boo locked away in her apartment. She had not told anyone that she had taken in a pet, so none would come looking, no one would know to come to feed him, to clean his litter box, to kiss him and give him cuddles…

"Please," she tried again, this time measuring her voice as best she could. Her orders had so far not moved him in any way, but perhaps if she pleaded for the life of her cat… "I have to go back home. No one knows about my cat and while you may not care about me, you wouldn't let a kitten starve to death, frightened and alone would you? Just… let me take care of Boo…"

She didn't mean to start crying. But if anything her words only seemed to offend him as he drew to his full height and crossed his arms, his eyes—eyes that seemed to glow even in the dim light of the room—narrowing the longer she spoke.

"You believe I left your familiar behind? Why would I have given him to you only to then allow for his demise?" His head tilted to the side, and his tone was one of genuine confusion. "You did not think me a monster before. What has changed?" His eyes narrowed further and he stared down at the bed as if it had somehow displeased him, even as his voice began to soften. "Is the bed not to your liking?"

She gaped at him, her tears beginning to abate. "I… what…"

And then suddenly she realized. The tall figure with his suddenly his masked features. Handwriting that she had studied so carefully in the jury room that was so similar to the notes delivered with her roses…

"Erik?"

"One and the same." This time he really did bow, and as her confusion rose, her fear began to abate.

At least a little.

"What are you doing? Why…"

His mouth, what little she could see of it, formed a thin line. "Perhaps we shall save that particular discussion for another day. I believe it is customary to consume breakfast at this time."

He stepped closer and offered his arm, but she only stared at it, her thoughts all a jumble. "Another day? Erik, what is going on? The trial was over! You were free to go! What am I doing here?"

"Not today. You will not like it if we discuss it today. You will be angry and then you will not wish to smile at me anymore."

So dumbfounded was she at his presumption that she would wish to smile at him now that she could not manage to scrounge up a retort.

"Now, while I understand that you may not wish to touch Erik yet, I would advise you do so; at least until you ensure that your legs are functioning adequately."

It was all too much. Her relocation, learning that the man she had defended for weeks was now capable of kidnapping… she was overwhelmed and frightened and didn't have the least idea of what she should do.

So numbly she reached out and took his arm, gratified that she was still in her oversized nightie that she had donned before going to bed.

Had it really only been the previous night?

"Why wouldn't my legs be working properly?"

Erik watched her carefully as he opened the door and ushered her into a comfortable looking living room. "Everyone reacts differently to a sedative. It is therefore best to be cautious."

"Oh."

How was one to respond when an intimidating man so calmly states that a sedative had unwittingly been given?

She felt so incredibly stupid. Richard had been right. While she had criticized and condemned other people for judging Erik for his appearance, she had been guilty of the opposite. Instead, she had managed to excuse everything so as to be kind to him, certain that a harsh world was merely refusing to see the good in him. She had felt sorry for his circumstances and was now facing the consequence of her naïveté.

Her legs did feel a bit sluggish as she shuffled to the sofa, and she was grateful when she was seated and she could pull her hand away from his arm.

The living room had a fireplace, a welcoming blaze adding warmth that the bedroom had lacked. There were more lamps as well, and now that she could see properly, she noticed that he was still wearing a fine suit, similar to the ones he had worn to court. It had felt soft beneath her fingertips, and clearly she had been correct about their fine quality.

She still felt the urge to cry.

Especially when she heard a plaintive meow and she saw her little Boo walk in from some unknown part of their prison.

"Boo!"

She forgot about shaky legs and muddled thoughts as she hurried to scoop him up, bestowing kisses wherever she could.

He gave a mild squeak in greeting that eventually gave way to a lowly rumbled purr as he enjoyed her attention.

"I am pleased you are so taken with him."

She found it much easier to focus on Boo than to glance at Erik. "How could I not be? He's perfect." She swallowed thickly as she systematically checked over his silky fur, looking for any evidence of hurts.

There were none.

"What did you mean before… that you had given him?"

Erik gave an elegant shrug that she caught from the corner of her eye. "He came upon me during one of my… outings. I could hardly leave him to starve and I am certain the facility would not have appreciated his presence so I brought him to you."

His head tilted ever so slightly to the left. "You did not mind, did you? I did not want you to be lonely."

There was something strange in the way he said that, as if he was nearly mocking the word.

But Boo began to wriggle, having had quite enough of her affections and hesitantly she obliged by placing him on the floor. Her distraction gone she forced herself to look at Erik, his mask disconcerting in the extreme. "I was lonely… I have been for quite some time."

It felt wrong to ask him anything. She still did not know why she was here—why he had taken her. And while she was relieved that Boo was safe and not forgotten, the fact that he had brought him seemed to indicate that she would be with him for quite some time.

And that frightened her considerably.

But his mask only made things worse. It was clear from his posture in the courtroom that he was uncomfortable with his face being on display, but she had no idea that he took to covering it so in other circumstances.

She realized then that Mr. Chagny had been offering his mask back to him before he had even left the courthouse.

Had he donned it and immediately began plotting her abduction?

She shuddered.

"Are you cold? I admit, I am unused to others being in my home and I was uncertain of a temperature you would find pleasing."

She crossed her arms over her chest, wishing she had a robe to cover her nightgown. There was nothing immodest about it—and in some perverse way she was grateful that he had taken her so late in the year when her short nightgowns had long since been abandoned in favor of warmer variations.

But still, she was unused to appearing so in front of a man, and it made her uneasy.

"Please, why do you wear the mask? It is not as though I do not know what you look like, and… and I know who you are. So you can't think I couldn't give your identity to the police if I ever…"

"Escape? Doubtful, but I will not insult you by suggesting you are incapable of finding a way out, however slim the possibility might be." He said this so matter-of-factly that she had to suppress another shiver. She had heard the doctor's testimony—that he knew things that other men wouldn't. She had believed him when he spoke of his great intelligence, but to have it used against her…

"But to answer your question, I wear the mask for your benefit as well as mine. You were subjected to my hideousness for far too long, and you needn't be reminded of it now."

That caught her by surprise. "I didn't… that wasn't what I was thinking when I looked at you."

He chuckled darkly. "Wasn't it?" He stopped and looked at her curiously. "Yet you barely look at me now. Does that mean that you enjoyed looking at a freak? I did not think you cruel."

Christine shook her head, that feeling of being completely overwhelmed returning tenfold. He was unstable, that much was clear. He gave no indication of what he wanted of her, and she was wholly unprepared to deal with any of this.

She staggered back to the sofa and sat down, the cushions a welcoming softness in contrast to her lumpy one back home.

"What am I doing here, Erik?" she finally asked, already feeling tired and worn.

She wondered if going back to bed was a viable option.

He didn't answer, not at first. He merely stared at her, unearthly still and so very tall even from the respectable distance he kept between them. She folded her legs up underneath her, biting back her inquiry if he minded that her feet would be on the furniture.

Surely when one was kidnapped they were allowed a bit of rudeness.

"I do not think it is wise to answer that question now. You are not crying and I should like to keep it that way for as long a time as possible. Perhaps when you are more settled."

She felt hysterical laughter bubbling up within her, and she released a choked sound that made Erik's eyes widen with alarm. "Settle in? So I am to stay with you? Here? I have work! I have a life and you… you cannot simply…"

He folded his hands meekly in front of him, and he bowed his head in some strange semblance of supplication. "You would not have wanted to see me. You would not have come with me if I had simply asked."

Christine blinked dumbly. "I fought for you. Others thought you were guilty and for days I argued that you hadn't done those terrible things." She laughed bitterly. "I guess I was wrong."

Erik moved then, but not to throttle her as she had half-expected. Instead he went to the mantel and picked up a notepad.

And as he shuffled through the pages she caught a glimpse of doodles and scribbles in handwriting that looked suspiciously like her own.

Her dread intensified as did her embarrassment.

For he would see precisely how fooled she had been by her own perceptions, a gullible child in a world meant for seasoned adults with wisdom and experience.

A world meant for those who understood the law.

"Erik is not a monster. You wrote that, did you not? One of your fellow jurors did not reach over and maim your page with it?" He turned the notepad so that she could indeed see the phrase that she had stared at more than once during deliberations. It had been a source of comfort, a reminder for what she argued for when others seemed determine to think the worst of him.

It mocked her now.

"Yes, I wrote it," she admitted quietly.

"Excellent. For a moment I feared I rescued the wrong legal pad from extermination."

He continued to flip through the pages, and a sick feeling settled in her stomach. No one was supposed to see it—that was made very clear. Her notes exposed every thought and doubt she had throughout the trial and now he was casually perusing them.

Perusing a piece of her.

And what if he found something that angered him? She didn't know him, not at all really. And she was alone here, and he was so much bigger than her…

"Please, give it back."

His head tilted again. "Why?" There was nothing mocking in his tone, no indication that he thought her stupid for her words, but that did little to lessen her discomfort.

"It was supposed to be private. Just my thoughts on the case and questions I had."

He hummed and flipped to another page. "Not so. There are quite a few illustrations as well." He peered closer at something and for a moment she wished the sofa had the ability to swallow her.

It would be just her luck to discover that this man was also a brilliant artist, and at any moment he would laugh at her childish attempts.

She didn't know why that thought bothered her.

"Is this where you wish to live?"

He showed her the basic castle she had sketched into the margin, the stones terribly uneven and the turret all askew.

She tucked her knees under the skirt of her nightgown and rested her head on them, trying to not feel ashamed for her silliness.

"What girl doesn't want to live in a castle," she defended weakly.

He hummed again, a musical sound that would have been quite lovely if she was not feeling so terribly agitated. "I suppose. We may live there in time if you wish, but I must warn you, they tend to be quite drafty. You do not seem to like the cold very much."

She lifted her head and glanced at him. "Why do you say that?"

He smiled almost wistfully, the softening of his demeanor a direct contrast from his otherwise imposing figure. "You bundle. While others would walk in and wait for the centralized heating to warm them, once the weather turned colder you were never without full regalia—hat, scarf, gloves, coat, and so forth."

She blushed and tried to ascertain why. Perhaps it was the newness of being noticed so thoroughly. She could have understood if Richard had noted and thought to comment since he generally was the one who witnessed her morning ritual of stuffing such items into her purse so they wouldn't be lost for the walk to the bus stop, and on more than one occasion had picked up an errant glove or her hat that came free from the woolen bundle.

But Erik had noticed for some other reason, and it made her nervous.

"I like the cold very much."

He paused in his perusal of her notepad. "Oh?"

Christine nibbled her lip, wondering if it was wrong to divulge more than that. He had yet to state any of his intentions, had scoffed at the very idea of her trying to escape this place, and yet she merely sat on his sofa and considered explaining her opinion of the colder months.

But she was tired of thinking—was tired in general, and she decided that if he did something blatantly harmful, exhibited something truly obvious that he meant to hurt her in any way, then she would fight for all she was worth. But for now she would try to enjoy the comfortable couch and maybe the more he spoke to her, the more he would begin to realize all of this was just some terrible mistake.

Nothing that couldn't be rectified by simply seeing her home.

Preferably with the loan of a coat so that she did not have to face utilizing public transportation in nothing but her nightie.

"I like getting to wear my coat and gloves and hat. I like that the cold means thawing out with a cup of hot tea with my bed piled in blankets. I like watching the snow outside and thinking that it covers all the ugliness in the city in something pure and clean and… good."

She had stared into the fire as she spoke, but risked a peek at him in order to judge his reaction.

As intensely as she had watched at the flames, so too was he looking at her now. "I don't like walking in the rain much, though," she added awkwardly. "Gets me all wet and keeps me cold when I'm sitting in court or trying to serve tables."

He nodded, his eyes unmoving. "A terrible nuisance." She couldn't help but fidget uncomfortably as he continued to stare at her.

"May I… I mean… Do you have a robe? Or some clothes I could change into?"

He blinked, almost as if coming out of some kind of daze before returning her notepad to the mantel. "Of course. Forgive me; of course you would like some proper clothing."

Of the list of things that currently bothered her about Erik, she was not so certain that forgetting to provide her a robe was in fact the most disturbing.

She followed hesitantly when he returned to the bedroom, but she lingered outside the doorway as he opened a wardrobe and turned to her. "Well? Do you intend to change in the living area?"

She eyed the clothes hesitantly. They didn't seem terribly lewd or horrid in any way, but it seemed… very wrong to choose to be in the same room with him.

Especially a bedroom.

He frowned. "I see."

He took a step forward and she scooted a bit more to the side, not at all certain why she felt so ashamed at trying to preserve her modesty. Erik was in the wrong here, not her. And yet every time she considered doing something impolite, years of ingrained etiquette rebelled, leaving her feeling guilty and rude.

But instead of vacating the room as she had hoped, he opened an adjoining door. "The facilities, should you require them. I can assure you that these rooms are your own, and I will do my utmost to respect your privacy. There are locks, however," he eyed her sternly, "they are of little encumbrance to me should you do anything foolish."

She simply stared at him, not at all certain to what he could be referring. Keeping him out of her room? That did not seem so very foolish. Desiring to bathe and dress without a male audience? Also a reasonable desire.

"Foolish?"

He sighed. "I know you are confused, and I have not… adequately arranged for your stay here. I can assure you, all of this," he made a vague gesture about the room, "was not my intention." He took another breath, and this time his tone was soft and pleading. "But please, do not try to do yourself harm until I have at least explained myself to you."

She swallowed, words failing her. "I… I wouldn't… that hadn't even occurred to me! Why would you say something like that?"

Erik shifted ever so slightly, and she rather thought she'd embarrassed him. "My apologies. It seemed a worthy precaution."

Her eyes narrowed, her bewilderment offering some semblance of bravery. "Do you intend to do anything that would make me consider it?"

His mouth fell open. "Hardly."

Some small kernel of amusement made her smile, despite the dreadful situation. "Alright then, so for now may I please have some privacy to change?"

He nodded and moved past her, allowing her to have the bedroom to herself.

But before she could close and lock the door, no matter how futile the action might prove, he stopped her, his slender hand pressed against the thick wood of the door.

"Christine…"

He was so very close to her and the way he was looking at her made her heart beat a little faster.

"Yes?"

He appeared ready to say something, something important, but instead he merely sighed and allowed his hand to fall away. "Everything shall be well, you will see."

And as she closed the door, she sincerely hoped she could believe him.

Sooo... those of you who guessed it was Erik, you were proven right! The question remains, then, why did he take her? They had built a very decent rapport so he must have a good reason, right? What do you think it might have been? Any of you upset about his actions or are you excited for what this will mean for him?

And can we all at the very least be glad that he's finally spoken?!

I'd love to hear your thoughts!