Hi guys! Really excited about this chapter and for where things are going! Please let me know what you think! Thank you for all the support in the meantime, it means the world that you have all stuck with this for so long.

Phanty belongs to Leroux and Lloyd Weber.

Christine

I had attempted to stay awake, mostly out of spite for Raoul… but with everything that had happened over the course of the night, and I was exhausted. I lay down on the large, four poster bed, prepared to plan my way out of the prison I was in, but within a matter of seconds sleep had taken me.

However, I awoke within a few hours due to discomfort. Sleeping in a corset proved to be too much for me to handle. A maid had knocked on my door soon after arriving but I had refused her. I didn't want one thing from Raoul. Now, I was beginning to regret it.

I stood up and walked to the doors that met the balcony. I tried the handle and was surprised to find that Raoul had not locked these doors as well. I opened them and walked out onto the small balcony, staring wistfully out into the blackness. The air had a chill to it. I used to love the Autumn months in Paris. There was always something special about them, something… otherworldly somehow. It was not cold enough to be unpleasant but once indoors there was a sense of belonging; a sense of warmth. Cozy. Safe.

As cosy and as safe as an orphan could feel anyway…

Autumn always made me feel as though anything were possible. As though along with the dust and the leaves, there was magic in the air.

Perhaps I would need a little bit of that.

I leant on the railing before me, forlorn, and closed my eyes. If I could not have Erik's arms around me at this moment, I would imagine them. Imagine his warmth. Imagine the feeling of his heartbeat on my back, his breath in my ear. That deep, husky voice whispering something…

There was a knock at the door.

Irritated at having my fantasy interrupted, I snapped.

"Who is it?!"

"It is me." Raoul's muffled voice responded.

"The last person I want to speak to." I said. "Please, go away."

"Christine, you cannot be like this for the entire two weeks! You are making this more difficult than it needs to be!"

"And what makes you think that it will take all of two weeks?"

Raoul scoffed.

"Expecting a rescue? Do let me know. I should like to have my men prepared for such a meeting."

Enraged at the image of anyone accosting Erik, I marched to the door and swung it open to see Raoul's alarmed face.

"When did you become so cruel?!" I cried.

"I…" He stammered. "I'm sorry, Christine." He took a breath. "I'm sorry."

I scoffed.

"You did mean it though." I walked away from him, leaving the door open. Constantly keeping my guard up was exhausting. How had Erik done it his entire life?

Raoul took the unintentional invitation and slowly stepped inside.

"I don't want you to think me cruel… may I?"

I made a blasé wave in his direction.

"It's your house, is it not?"

"It is, but possession is not all that is important to me. Possession is not everything. I want you to be comfortable."

"That's kind of you." I remarked with a tone I had adopted from Erik.

"Christine, please." He began, taking another step. I didn't know why he was being so apprehensive; I was not afraid of him. "Can we not just be civil?"

"I thought I was being civil?" I snapped at him, sitting on the edge of the four poster bed. I looked down at my hands in my lap. "You'd know if I wasn't…" I added, almost to myself.

He nodded slightly.

"Shall I have someone tend to you." He began, perhaps not knowing what else to begin with. "No doubt you are in want of fresh clothing."

"No…" I shot hastily. These were the clothes I was wearing when I last saw Erik. I could still imagine his scent on them… his touch… I needed to get back to him. As I gently fingered the fabric of my dress an idea returned to me; that which I had had prior to my falling asleep. How could I have forgotten? I needed to charm him. To shroud him in a false sense of security, of trust. Perhaps I could trick him into trusting me enough to take a walk…

All of a sudden my mind was swimming with ideas…

"No I don't need fresh clothes." I added distractedly. "A bath, perhaps."

His face seemed to brighten at the idea of me accepting something from him.

"I will see to it."

There was silence for a few moments. All that could be heard was the distant ticking of a clock, and the slight wind had picked up outside. It filled me with a bittersweet yearning. Yearning for Erik, yes… but yearning for a time gone by. Yearning for my youth, for my father; my old life without complication; The house by the sea… I could easily recall the feeling of that breeze on my cheeks, rushing through me. It could almost have been yesterday.

"Thank you for not locking the doors to the balcony…"

"You are not a prisoner." He said gently. Although, I knew that I was.

"That breeze… it reminds me of…"

"The sea." He finished. "You are thinking of your… our childhood? Of Sweden?"

I nodded. I was now aware I was in a genuine conversation with Raoul; the first in many years. I wished I could admit to it all being part of my devious plan to charm him, but it was not.

He sighed and sat down beside me on the bed.

"I only heard that your father had passed when I returned to the Opera. I need to apologise for neglecting to mention it until now. It may be too late but I wish to extend to you my condolences."

"It is never too late." I said with a slight smile.

"Thank you." He said. "Up until then I imagined you just as you were; young, happy. Perhaps still living in that house or travelling with your father as you had once told me you had. And then… I saw you and…"

I stared at him as he stammered. What game was he playing?

"…And you were just so… beautiful does not accurately describe. It was so much more. You were perfect. Just as I had remembered only, just as I was a man, you were a woman. We had aged together and I only hoped our connection would remain… I-I'm sorry. I… seem to be getting off topic."

He was flustered. I knew that he cared for me. Inspite of everything hearing him speak of it still cut me slightly but there was little I could do, especially given everything. I remained still, awkwardly staring at my hands.

"Anyway, as you know, after we left Sweden I spent a lot of time at sea."

"Yes, I had heard you were in the Naval forces?" I said, thankful to be off the topic of me.

"Yes." He nodded.

"Well, it feels much like a sea breeze. Some would argue that all sea breezes are the same, and even though I can understand that point of view… what I'm trying to say is that… the breeze takes me right back to that house on the sea as well." He managed. "Christine, what do you think might have happened if my family had not left Sweden?"

I didn't want to think about it.

"I'm not sure…"

And then, not knowing what possessed me to do so, I told him.

"Raoul, I think that… my father may be alive." I mumbled.

I didn't know why I was telling him this. I didn't think there was any harm in it, but truthfully I hadn't thought it through.

"What?" He asked, shocked. He inched closer to me. I had told him something important and I could see how happy this had made him, but I had not done it for any sort of gain. Perhaps I just needed to speak about it. "How do you know?! What makes you say this?!"

"There was a letter. Madame Giry had kept it hidden until just before you… took me."

"Where is the letter?" He asked, choosing to ignore the 'took me' part.

"It's with Erik."

He shifted uncomfortably.

"I will help you!" He offered.

"NO." I shot. "No, I want to go with…"

With Erik.

"I would rather go when…" I began again carefully. "When all of this is sorted out."

"I understand." He said quietly. "Well, I would be happy to help you when you are ready. I know how much your father meant to you."

Means

"Do you?" I asked snidely.

"Of course." He answered, clearly not picking up on my tone.

"God knows… if he is alive, if he had never have gone missing, perhaps this whole… Erik mess would never have happened."

I bit my tongue.

"Why did you tell me this, Christine?" He asked.

I had no idea. It wasn't for pity, and it wasn't part of any scheme…

"I… don't know."

He nodded, seemingly lost in thought, before rising and walking to the door.

"Well, I will send someone in with your water." He said, walking to the door and opening it.

He turned to me.

"Thank you for… allowing me to talk with you. I will do my very best to help you, Christine." He added.

He looked so sincere. Why did he not understand that all he had to do to help me was release me?

"Why did you come?" I asked.

"I couldn't sleep, and I assumed that you were being similarly plagued. I can't stand to have you hate me, Christine."

I wished I could have told him that I didn't hate him… but I did. I still did. How could I not hate him?

"I suppose that making one last appeal is pointless." I said mirthlessly.

"After you bathe, I will send someone in with something to eat. Will that be alright?"

I took a deep breath and nodded, my gaze once more drifting to the balcony. My thoughts once more drifting to Erik. I heard the door close and lock, and I was once more alone.

Erik

"I can scarcely believe it." I began, my head in my hands. "Why would he have stayed away for so long?"

"That, he didn't say."

"Well, how did he get the letter to you?"

"I received it here."

"Then how can you be sure it was from him?"

"We were dear friends. I would know his penmanship anywhere."

I eyed her warily.

"Trust me, Erik. I would not have told Christine if I was not certain."

"Why did you not tell her sooner?"

"He may not be alive, Erik." Madame Giry reasoned.

"Yes, I know. But… even the possibility… Christine must know!"

"Christine has read the letter. The same as you, and the same as me."

"But she does not know what you have just told me! It is not as if he gave you this letter a decade ago, and said give it to Christine when she comes of age… It was dated a month ago! I cannot imagine why you did not tell her sooner!"

"I did not wish to get her hopes up!"

"Hopes?! For months, Christine has had the chance of seeing her father alive, and you have kept that from her! Held it above her head… just out of reach!" A familiar rage was building up inside me.

"I did it for her protection!"

"From whom?" I growled. "Her own father?!"

"You know as well as I do that months ago, Christine was very fragile. In fact, up until you revealed yourself she was introverted, delicate… but in that state she was guardedly happy! I did not wish to ruin it!"

"How can you say that you have done this for Christine, mislead her… and say that you did it for her happiness?"

"Ah- that story sounds familiar!"

I stood up, furious.

"You know nothing about the relationship between Christine and I!" I spat, rounding on her. "You hardly know her! You hardly know your own daughter! She caused this mess! Look at what you allowed her to do! How can you call yourself a mother when…"

SLAP

She struck me.

I brought my hand to my cheek- it stung warmly. The last time someone had slapped me, it had been my own mother. After that, much worse had followed. I looked at her in disbelief. Tears prickled my right eye, but only because my right cheek was still stinging.

She brought her hands to her mouth, apparently as shocked as I was with what she had done.

"I-I'm so sorry, Erik."

"No. Forgive me." I said. "I was out of line."

"I shouldn't have done that." She said, pulling me roughly into an embrace. I did not return it. It felt too strange. Instead, I spoke.

"I would have killed for a mother like you." I said quietly.

She winced at my choice of words but replied.

"I have always felt somewhat responsible for you, as well as Christine. Perhaps not like a mother, but… a sister? Or at least a friend. I want you to know that you have never truly been alone."

I smiled.

"Thank you."

After a few awkward moments, I pulled away.

"I have to tell Christine what I know." I said, striding away in search of a jacket.

"Erik." She warned, following me. "What are you doing?"

"Madame." I retorted. "I am going to her. You know as well as I do that she must know this."

"It is too dangerous."

"Your lack of confidence in me is truly inspiring." I quipped. I pulled a jacket from my wardrobe and eased it on. I had never been more irritated with my repugnant body. My injuries were making everything harder than they needed to be. "I assure you, if I do not wish to be found, I will not be. Are you forgetting who I am?"

"You always have been an arrogant clod." She shot.

"Perhaps, but I have earned the right."

"Are you forgetting how you landed yourself in this mess to begin with?" She argued.

"I was careless. I was distracted." I said as I laced my boots. "I will not be either of those tonight."

"Are you not in pain?"

"Of course."

"Well, perhaps you ought to rest for another day or two!"

"No. As you've said, I mislead Christine. And… I don't mean to put this on you. I mean that I treated her poorly for years. And… there is nothing in this world that I care more about than her; her happiness. Even though she has forgiven me, the guilt still plagues me. It is on my mind every waking hour." I approached her and gently placed my hands on her shoulders. "This is my chance to right those wrongs. I will tell her what I know, and then leave. I will not do anything foolish, I promise you."

Right those wrongs.

There was truly only one way to do that, it was more than giving Christine information about how to find her father. It was giving her the opportunity to do so, and it was something I was not going to tell Madame Giry.

"In the meantime, perhaps you can… plan." I said. "Try and think of ways that we can free her."

What I wasn't telling her was that I had no intention of returning to hear them.

"Yes." She said, smiling wanly.

I nodded at her, before stuffing the letter in my pocket, picking up my cape, and exiting my home.

Being that it was dark, I was able to sneak out of the Opera without discovery. After a few minutes of darting in and out of shadow, I spotted a carriage at the side of the road. As soon as I saw him I knew that this was an opportunity for directions; he was a cab driver and appeared to be finishing for the night. With the cowl of my cloak over my face, I approached.

I asked him where the de Chagny estate was. He thought for a moment before affording me vague directions. These would be enough, though. He had directed me West of Paris, and given my state I knew that it would at least take the day to get there. The man did not see my mask, but he stared at me for a moment too long and this did not sit well with me. Knowing that I was still very much a wanted man, I couldn't risk anything. Even a man in a hood would arouse suspicion, and this close to the Opera, I couldn't have that.

I couldn't kill him though. Christine was my conscience, and I nearly lost her when she found out about the last incident… Buquet. Besides, another murder so close to the Opera would not look good either.

I left him unconscious, affording him the courtesy of heaving his body into his cab so that he was not a target for thieves. Thankfully, he was not a heavy man, but the action made my injuries scream all the same.

I managed to make it out of Paris without incident, but I knew that the rest of the journey would be difficult. I was on foot. It was less conspicuous, and I didn't wish to risk Raoul taking ownership of my horse. But each step pained me and I was still quite exhausted. Thankfully, the sun only rose once I was out of Paris. This meant less chance of being seen, but it also meant that I had to make my journey in the sun. At around midday I took a break, stripping down to my dress shirt and sitting by a tree off the main road to cool down. It was in the shade and it was out of sight. That was enough.

After thirty minutes or so I continued my journey to Christine. I wondered what she was thinking. I wondered what she would be doing when I arrived? Where would she be?

This was something I had not considered. Nor had I considered the possibility of the presence of the law at Raoul's estate.

I would deal with these issues when I came to them.

At around six o'clock, I knew I had reached my destination; a grand estate surrounded by a tall, iron fence. Once more donning my waistcoat and jacket so that I wouldn't have to carry them, I approached…

I would deal with these issues when I came to them.

Christine

A day passed. At every opportunity I stood at the balcony, gazing out as far as I could, hoping that I would catch a glimpse of what I wanted to see…

Him…

Raoul had been civil with me, and I had been civil in return. He had allowed me to wander through the corridors of his home, only upstairs of course; a peace offering perhaps. I obliged. All the while, every door I saw, every window… I was thinking about Erik; thinking about what window he would use if he was to find me, what turns he would take.

Raoul only invited me downstairs for dinner, but I refused him, telling him that I would prefer to take it alone. I knew that I only had to bide my time; that somehow Erik would find me and that everything would be alright, but even so, dining with Raoul felt like betrayal.

I ate half of my dinner and set it aside. I would have left it outside my door, but of course my door was still locked from the outside. Once more, I walked to the balcony and stood, gazing out into the night as I had done the night before. Again, that wind swept through me, and with it, crept that bittersweet nostalgia. Tonight though, the air felt different. Why? I couldn't quite say. I closed my eyes and allowed it to envelop me. Perhaps I thought if I wished hard enough, it could carry me away.

Erik

I was surprised to find that there was no one guarding the property. Perhaps Raoul wasn't expecting me, or perhaps he knew that I wouldn't put up a fight. I strode through the long grass near the fence, thankful when I made it to the manicured part of the lawn. I had always hated grass.

There was a cool wind blowing. I seldom felt such wind on my face due to the life I lead. It was beautiful, for some reason, it reminded me of Christine. I walked closer to the house, being careful to keep under the cover of shadow and trees. I could not be caught before I delivered my message to Christine. It was too important.

Again, I wondered where he would keep her. I deduced that it would probably be high up; less chance of escape. I circled the house once, peering intently at every balcony, every closed window for some clue as to her whereabouts. I knew that her window would be open; she loved the breeze, but other than that, any clues I would be too small to see from where I was, and I could not afford to move closer.

I was almost nearing the end of my lap; returning to where I had started when I saw her…

Standing on one of the many balconies that bordered the large house. If she had not been standing outside, I would have been lost. I could not hide the smile on my face as I took her in. She was so beautiful. Truly an angel standing up there with the wind billowing through her dress and hair; her eyes were closed. She seemed so serene.

Perhaps she was happy here?

Pushing it to the back of my mind, I approached. Climbing had never been a problem for me, nor had heights. I scaled the house silently and expertly, managing to reach her balcony in a matter of seconds.

Seeing her again had rendered me speechless. All that I could utter was her name.

Christine

I turned away, prepared to close the doors behind me and farewell another night without him, when I heard a familiar, hushed voice. His unmistakable voice.

"Christine." Was all it said.

Unable to mask my elation, I spun around to see Erik pulling himself over the stone railing to stand before me. There he was, just as I had remembered, just as I had seen him in my head. Dressed almost all in black, he wore a familiar expression of apprehensive longing. His glowing, white mask wore the same terse expression, but we both bore the same smile as I threw myself into his arms.

Our lips met in a passionate kiss before I wrapped my arms around his waist and held him tightly. I inhaled, breathing him in. How I had missed his scent.

"Oh, Erik. I've been so worried." I whispered into his chest, my words muffled by the fabric of his waistcoat, tears welling up in my eyes. "He made me leave you when you were like that." I whimpered, actually beginning to weep at the image of Erik lying on those stairs, covered in blood as Raoul ushered me away. "Oh… I knew that you'd come!"

"And I always will." He whispered, placing a kiss atop my head. "Don't cry, Môn Ange. As you can see, I am quite alright."

"How did you find me?!" I asked in a hushed whisper, still holding him tightly.

"I have my ways, Christine Daae." He replied with a smile in his voice. "How are you? Has he hurt you?"

"No, no." I whispered, finally pulling away and wiping my eyes. I looked up to see a similar tear fall from his. Before he could raise his hand, I reached up and gently wiped it with my thumb. His skin was warm beneath my hand as I gently caressed his cheek. He smiled to my touch and placed his hand over my own.

"I've missed you." He said.

"I've missed you terribly." I responded. Suddenly recalling his injuries, I placed my hand over his chest. "Your… how did you make it with… you must be in so much pain!"

"It is manageable." He smiled warmly.

"How did you… When I left, did Madame Giry…"

"Madame Giry helped me, yes."

"I owe her my life." I said, kissing him.

"I already owe her mine." He mused.

I smiled and embraced him again.

"Come." I began, pulling him away from the railing. "Come away from the edge, you might be seen."

He obliged.

"Why have you come?" I said. I laughed, realising how rude it may have sounded. I kissed him again. "Sorry, I mean… do you have a plan? Have you come to take me away from here? Oh, please Erik. Let's leave here."

"No." He said plainly. "No… not yet. I d-don't have a plan as of yet. I've come here because I've learned some information about… the situation with your father."

I stared at him in disbelief. He had come all this way and yet he was still going to leave me with Raoul?

"Erik, please. You can tell me about my father later. Can't we just leave? Were there any guards or… did you see any men when you approached?"

"No…"

"Then we can leave! Let me put on my shoes…" I began, pulling away from him to walk inside.

"Christine, no." He said, gently holding on to me. "You must listen to me."

"Erik, we are wasting time!"

"Listen, please!" He whispered harshly.

I turned back to him. The desperate look in his eyes told me that I needed to listen to what he had to say.

"Alright." I acceded. "But then, we leave!"

He nodded but I got the impression that it was more dismissive than anything else.

"You already know that the letter was dated a month ago, yes?" He began.

"Yes, of course. We read it together."

"I mean… the date is written there in what we assume is his penmanship?"

"Yes. Yes." I replied. I couldn't imagine what he was getting at.

"Now… I still do not know what really happened to your father, all I know is what Madame Giry told me, and…"

"What is it, Erik?" I was becoming impatient.

He took a deep breath.

"She did not receive it a month ago as we once thought."

"…What?"

"She received it about a year ago, before we… well, before we physically met. So, it seems that… your father wrote the wrong date on it."

"…but why would he do that?"

"Well, that is what I've come here to tell you."

"Wait, wait." I began, struggling to understand what was happening. "So, that means that he may not be alive? He could have written it years ago!"

"No, I believe that he wrote it shortly before sending it." He began, taking my hand. "Christine, he didn't include this in the letter, but he gave Madame Giry an address… and his instructions were to give you the address with the letter when she knew you were ready."

"I… I don't understand."

"He wanted you to find him, Christine."

I stared at him for a moment in disbelief. Could this be? Was this confirmation that he was actually alive?

"But why did he date it at all if the only stipulation was my being ready?!"

"I think… perhaps… that is why I needed to tell you this so urgently." He said gently. "Madame Giry mentioned that he was ill upon writing the letter. I think perhaps, that is how long he expected to…"

"Don't say it, please…" I said, falling back against the wall of the house for support. "Are you telling me that after all this, my father could be dead anyway because of Madame Giry's poor judgement?! That he has been alive for all this time! That for at least a year I could have seen him, could have lived in his presence, but… that I'm simply too late?!"

"Christine, do not blame Madame Giry. Your father put it all in her hands. It was a lot of pressure…"

I began to weep once more.

"Who am I to blame!? It was dated a month ago, Erik!" I cried, falling to the floor. "I am a month too late!"

"No! Christine, that was the date he gave…" Erik knelt down beside me, taking me into his arms as I wept. "Perhaps that was his expectation, but there may still be time!"

"What if in his final months, all he could think about was the fact that his only daughter did not want to see him! That she received the letter but did not want to see him! I cannot bear the thought!"

"I am sure he did not think that!" Erik consoled.

"I h-have to find him, Erik…" I wept. "I- I have to!"

Erik held me tightly.

"I know." He said sadly. "I know."

"Will you help me?" I cried.

I thought I felt him shudder. Was he upset also?

"Of course, Môn Ange." He said, taking a deep, uneven breath. "Always."

I pulled away then, hoping that his expression would explain his strange answer. Once more, he had tears in his eyes. He was smiling sweetly at me.

A noise sounded downstairs.

His smile widened.

"Erik, what was that?"

Footsteps coming down the hall.

"Erik… you need to go!" I pushed him, attempting to shake him out of the strange state of mind he was in. "Get up, you have to hide!"

The door handle sounded. Keys outside rattled.

Still, he smiled.

"You are so beautiful." He said calmly, placing a kiss on my forehead.

"Erik… what are you…"

He stood up, and held his hand out to me. I took it and stood beside him. Finally, his gaze left mine, shifting to the bedroom door, now opening.

"Please…" I tugged at his arm. "What are you doing?!"

By the time I glanced back at the bedroom door, it was wide open. Several men had filtered in, and in the centre stood Raoul, pistol in hand.