AN: I've been living in the terrible world of finals and then, even worse, no internet! But the summer is here for me, and as long as my internet stays functioning (which is not always a guarantee), I should be updating more often, probably once every two weeks as I finish this story.

I can not BELIEVE the amazing response for the last chapter: how utterly, fantastically, unbelievably amazing you guys are. You make my WORLD. I still can't even believe that this story has gotten to be so popular-- thank you!

So, after much ado, here we are with a new chapter. As always, thanks a million to my beta TT and please review and let me know what you think!


Chapter 27: Liberty and Limitations

It was the beginning of October. Outside of her window, Christine could see the leaves start to change, faint wisps of color mottling the heavy green even though the air was still languid and summer scented. She loved these in-between moments, when summer was over but it wasn't fall yet. She dreaded the winter, with its cold short days and long endless nights.

A beeper dinged softly and Christine pulled herself away from the window to take her steaming tea out of the microwave. She inhaled the dark, slightly bitter scent and smiled. She had to admit that there were perks to living in the new apartment, even though she would gladly give it up if she could go back to the way things used to be. 'Not that they were great,' she thought wryly, tipping sugar into her mug. 'And it's nice to have a new microwave…and decent water pressure in the shower. But it's still…'

Her cell phone rang in the other room and her shoulder's dropped. "Control," she whispered, before stirring her tea and resolutely walking over to the phone.

She only realized that it was her old cell phone and not his when she dug it out from under a mountain of schoolwork. She flipped it open without glancing at the number; there were only a few people that ever called her.

"Hello?" She asked, making room for herself among the homework papers strewn on the couch.

"Morning sunshine!" The voice bubbled out from the phone, and Christine felt herself truly smiling for the first time in days.

"Claudia!" She exclaimed. With college eating up their time they spoke to each other on the phone only about once a month, though almost daily over AIM.

"What's shaking?" Even on the phone Jammes sounded like the sun, larger than life. Christine sighed and settled herself into the couch.

"Where to begin?" she asked aloud, wondering what was safe to say. "Well, I got a new apartment."

"Really? That's amazing! Is it better than your old one?"

"Much," Christine said. "But I miss living with Meg."

"I'm sure it gets lonely," Jammes said sagely, then paused for a moment. "Hey, speaking of Meg, there's kind of an ulterior motive to this call."

Christine sat up nervously. "What?"

"Well, not that I wasn't going to call you anyway, love, but…well I got an email from Meg the other night."

Jammes and Meg had only been introduced once, over a year ago, when Jammes came to visit Christine, and they barely talked at all. Why did Meg contact her?

Claudia continued to talk. "She's really worried about you."

Nervousness began to swell in Christine's stomach. "Why is she worried?"

"She says you disappeared all summer and barely contacted her, and I agree hon, I did not appreciate being left out of the loop for four months with only a few measly emails. But I thought you were just sick. Meg seems to think that its more."

Christine tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "Go on."

"She says you've been acting really weird since you got back, really evasive. She wouldn't specify but she said she had seen and heard enough to make her really worried, whatever that is. Plus she thinks it's weird that you moved out so suddenly, without even telling her, and that you're living in a new place while still paying the rent at the old one. She thinks that you're in some kind of trouble. I don't know what to think, and she doesn't seem sure of herself enough to talk to you about it. She didn't ask me to call you. So what I want to know is…are you?"

Christine closed her eyes and tried to stay calm. "Am I what?"

"Are you in trouble?"

Christine bit her lip hard as she thought about her answer. Jammes had been her best friend since they were little; she had been there throughout all of the hardest times in Christine's life. They told each other everything, they had never lied to one another. If there was anyone she could tell, it was Jammes.

Christine took a deep breath. "No, no, I'm fine. Meg's just…" she nearly choked on her lie. "Being overdramatic. She worries about me too much."

"Are you sure, Chris?"

"Positive. I'm fine." Out of the corner of her eye she saw a dark shape, and something jolted in her stomach. "Anyway, I'd love to talk to you more but I really gotta go. So I'll talk to you later, ok?"

"Ok fine, just don't go disappearing on me again," Jammes said lightheartedly, and Christine forced a laugh.

"I'll try not to. I gotta go. Bye, Clauds."

"Bye Chris."

Christine closed the phone with a snap and set it slowly down on the couch. She closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. "Good morning, Erik."

The dark shape moved languidly out of the other room and into her field of vision. "Good morning, Christine."

His visit was not a surprise. He had been visiting her nearly every day for the week that she had been living there, though she wasn't sure how he got into the apartment, as it didn't seem to be through the front door. He would just be there, sitting on the couch when she got back from classes, or moving silently among the rooms as she studied in the evening. Morning visits were rarer, and she wondered why he had come.

"How are you today," he asked cordially, like a gentleman, and she shrugged and sipped her tea.

"I just woke up a little while ago. Do you want some tea?" Both of them had been extra polite the past week, each trying to make up for perceived wrongs. Every time he arrived she would offer him a beverage, like a hostess, and every time he refused, probably because he found it difficult to drink with the mask on. But she asked anyway, as if each offered drink were an unsaid apology. 'Would you like a drink? I'm awfully sorry about screaming at you the other night. It's a lovely apartment. Please don't lock me away again.'

He shook his head slowly. "No, thank you."

"Ok." There was silence for a moment as she sipped her tea and he stared at her, his eyes unfathomable. She was the first one to break. "So…why are you here?"

He took a seat in a chair a few feet away from her and seemed to consider her words intently. "There is something rather special that will be arriving in the near future, and I am unsure as to how to go about it," he said rather hesitantly.

Christine raised an eyebrow. "Something special?" She asked, and he smiled at her gently.

"Your twenty second birthday is soon, is it not?" he asked, amused.

"Oh." Christine had completely forgotten about her birthday in the blur of events of recent months. "That. It's still a few weeks away."

"Do you have any desires for that day?" he asked, tilting his head at her. "A birthday, I'm told, is something to be celebrated."

Christine glanced at him sharply. "When is your birthday?" She asked, and he shrugged elegantly.

"My father never saw fit to tell me, and I never saw fit to ask," he said. "I am not one for celebrations, especially of my own birth."

"Oh." Christine didn't know what to say. Sometimes she forgot just how sad his life had been. "Do you know how old you are?" she asked.

He seemed to smile slightly at her questions. "I have an estimate," he said, but offered no more information. "But we are speaking about you now, not me."

"Right," she said softly. "Well, my birthday is around Halloween, so I usually go to costume parties with my friends, but I don't know what I'll do this year."

"You do not wish to go a costume party?"

She shrugged. "I could, but they're never what I like. They're always stifled and crowded, a regular party just with masks. Everyone drunk. I guess I always hoped…" she trailed off and he leaned forward.

"Go on," he encouraged.

"It's silly, but whenever I go to a costume party I always hope that it will be something more, something elegant, like the old movies I would watch when I was a kid. Venetian masks and ball gowns."

"A masquerade?" he asked, and she smiled.

"Yeah, something like that. But I've come to realize that that's never going to happen on a college campus, and I don't want to put myself through another uneventful Halloween party. I'll probably stay here and relax, eat candy, something like that." She paused, thinking on her life of past months, and how nothing seemed as fun to her as it used to. "I guess I'm just not into celebrations anymore either."

"I see," he said softly.

Christine glanced up at him. "Erik," she started, "do you…"

The doorbell rang, clear and high, and shattered her words. Christine swung around to face the door, her heart in her throat. Who could that be? And how could she send them away without seeing Erik? The door had a clear view into the sitting room, and unless he hid whoever it was would get a good look at the masked man. What should she do?

"Who is that?" he asked calmly, and she glanced back at him. His words were relaxed but his body was tight, his hands curled tense around his knees.

Christine bit her lip. "I don't know."

He stared at her levelly, his yellow eyes boring into hers, and his voice took on a distinctive commanding tone. "Whoever it is, send them away. This is too pleasant a conversation to be ruined by an interloper."

She nodded and stood, still wondering how to send the person away without them seeing Erik, who didn't seem to want to move in order to hide himself. Slowly she walked over to the door as the bell rang again, and peered through the peephole. Her heart nearly stopped in her chest.

It was Raoul.

A strange numbness seemed to fill her body as she pulled away from the peephole and stared at the wood of the door. 'Oh God, oh God, what am I supposed to do?' She hesitated as long as she could, hoping that he would just go away, but he rang the bell a third time and her hand shot towards the door knob. She wanted to wrench open the door and scream at him to run, to run far away and never come back here, to never see her again.

Instead she opened the door a crack, so that she could just see his face and he couldn't see past her body, which was blocking the way in and shielding Erik from his view. Or him from Erik's.

"Raoul," she tried to sound as calm as possible. "What are you doing here?"

He started to smile at her but faltered at the look on her face. "Hey," he said lightly. "Meg gave me the address. I hope that's alright. Is, uh…" he tried unsuccessfully to peer past Christine. "Is this a bad time?"

"Yes," she nearly snapped. "I'm sorry, Raoul, but it's a very bad time. Please leave."

His forehead wrinkled in confusion and worry. "Is someone here with you?"

"No!" she yelped. "No, no one is here. I just can't talk now. I need you to leave."

"Chris," his voice was low and nervous and he tried again to see past her. "What's going on? What's the problem? Is something wrong?"

"No," she said, and then in a softer, more urgent voice, "Raoul, please, please leave. Just leave. Just go."

"Chris…" he started, trying to open the door but she held it mostly closed so he could only see her face.

"Please," she whispered, tears in her eyes, ice cold fear filling her lungs like dark water. "Oh God, please Raoul, just go. I'm fine. Go."

He paused for a moment, then nodded. "I'll be back later," he said, and walked reluctantly away. She watched him until he turned the corner, then slowly closed the door and locked it.

Christine stood facing the door for a long moment, listening to the silence of the apartment. She was still shaking, and her breath was ragged. Why did Raoul have to come here? Why did he insist on seeing her?

"I don't want anyone to get hurt," she whispered.

A hand fell on her shoulder and gently turned her around; she hadn't heard him get off of the couch but he was suddenly so close, his hand under her chin, tilting her head up to look at him.

"No one will get hurt," he said softly, and his feral yellow eyes were calm and oddly pleased. "I will not harm the boy, Christine."

It was as if a vice around her heart had suddenly been released. "You won't?" she said. She wanted to ask why but couldn't make out the words; he smirked and answered her anyway.

"He knows now that you are not his; I will not touch him. He is hurting himself far more than I ever could. Love is painful, my dear, and he is in agony. I am content."

She stared at him silently before lowering her eyes. She hated him in that moment, hated what he was doing to her, but she forced her mouth to stay closed. If his arrogance kept Raoul safe, that was all that mattered. At least she could keep her friends out of her mess.

So she said nothing, and joined Erik on the couch again, and hated herself for it.