I was going to leave this chapter at a much different spot, but that would have made it sooo short and mean so... I didn't. At least one question shall be answered tonight! And many more... not. But gotta start somewhere, right?

Monday will bring a new chapter and the start of a new job, (who in their right mind thinks it's a good idea for ME to teach math to children?! Oh yeah, my old math teacher, that's who. She does remember that I got a B in Calculus, right?)

Anyway, enough about me. Onward!

xii

Christine stood unmoving, not at all certain what the note meant. What work? She paled, the realization biting and terrible. His work. Detective Nadir had said he was an assassin, which meant… she was the work. He was coming, or at the very least knew where she was. Simply moving her away from the danger wasn't enough and…

If possible, Erik looked as shaken as she felt. He was supposed to be calm, for surely they had procedures for moments such as these, but instead his mouth was pressed into a firm line, his eyes straying from the letter to her, and then back again.

"Christine, go pack your things. We must leave immediately."

She hated the petulant, childish side that wanted to argue. They had plans, just moments ago. Of a walk and getting to know one another and pretending, and now because of that man, she was once more being uprooted.

"But Erik, can't we…"

"Go!" He barked, crumpling the letter in his palm, a harsh and unpleasant sound that startled her greatly. Even in his temper, he seemed to notice that he'd hurt her with his sharpness, for with some effort he softened. "Go, Christine," he said again. "We must hurry. I will not see you harmed."

And for some ridiculous reason, she wanted to ask him to hold her, if only for just a moment, until she could find some measure of her courage.

But instead she went to her bedroom—except, it wasn't really hers any longer, was it?—and exchanged her raincoat for a comfortable sweater, keeping her Wellies though. It would still be a wet trek to the car, and she didn't want her socks damp for the hours to come.

Depression mingled with her fear, and she hated it. Hated the helplessness, her almost reckless desire to simply stay to see what the Phantom would do.

But instead she continued to tuck and fold and pack with trembling fingers, hoping that she was moving fast enough.

Because to wait could mean a confrontation. And it was not only her life that would be risked then, but Erik's as well. And she couldn't ask that of him.

She started when she turned and saw Erik's looming presence in the doorway, not dissimilar to how he would wait between their connecting rooms until she granted entrance.

Except this time his demeanor was grim instead of hesitant, there was no smile playing at his lips when she nodded her permission for him to come closer.

"Do you know how he found me?"

If possible, his expression grew even more grave. "I do not."

Christine nodded again, doing up the final zipper on her suitcase, almost sighing as she did so. She had enjoyed unpacking, of finally slipping the suitcase under the bed, with no intention of handling it again for a good long while. But here she was, and she wouldn't complain. It wasn't Erik's fault that this was necessary.

"Will moving be enough?"

She hoped so, but there was a niggling feeling of doubt that urged her to not place too much hope on the endeavor. If he had found her so quickly at this location, there was little reason to expect he could not prove so capable again in future.

Erik sighed deeply. "I will see you safe," he stated with conviction. "At present I am not certain of anything, but you may rest assured that I will protect you. In all things. Do you believe me?"

She wondered why it mattered. He clearly believed it to be true, and that should be enough. If the worst happened, he would be the one standing with a gun while she hid somewhere. Just picturing the situation made her shiver, and she disliked it greatly. She should be able to help. He'd told her that she could not handle any of his guns, and she wouldn't press him on it, but she would remind him that he'd agreed to help her learn to defend herself properly.

Christine had dismissed it before, when she'd felt safe and secure away from her home. But now... now she wanted to be as prepared as possible. Just in case.

"I believe you," Christine answered, more to appease his expectation than because she felt it in that moment. He was only one man, and their foe as he'd called him, would have surprise on his side. He would have time to plan before he acted, while they fled and hid and tried to simply remain anonymous.

So much for Detective Nadir's assurance that her testimony would lead to his hasty arrest.

Erik took her suitcase and headed for the front door, and for a brief moment Christine allowed complete melancholy to overwhelm her as she took in the now empty house. It looked untouched, unlived it. All the memories that might have been made there suddenly wiped away.

So much for pretending.

After a final use of the facilities, Christine followed Erik out to the car, surprised to see him giving their vehicle a thorough inspection. The rain was coming down steadily, and Christine was glad to have kept her umbrella out, lest she become drenched along the way. Erik was not so mindful, as he suddenly knelt—careful to keep his knees out of a puddle, she was glad to note—and removed... something.

It was a small object, but she could tell no more than that, and she approached hurriedly so she might see more of what it was.

Only for Erik's hand to clamp over it, before he practically growled and threw it toward the bushes.

"What are you doing? What was that?"

"That," Erik spat out. "Was a tracking device. Every stop, every hotel was just another opportunity for action. We are fortunate to still be breathing."

He sounded so angry, and she had to remind herself that his ire was not directed at her. She realized then that their little tiffs were simple annoyances to him, as she had never witnessed the way his eyes nearly glowed with his rage, the way his hands were drawn into tight fists. She stepped a little nearer and raised her umbrella, trying to keep him covered by the rain. He suddenly lurched away from her, turning on his heal before calling out over his shoulder.

"Get in the car, lock the doors. I will be there shortly."

Christine stared after him before scrambling to obey, suddenly feeling nervous and exposed. Was he still out there? Waiting? And Erik was now inside the house, and the Phantom could act before he returned. Instead of her rather wet and bedraggled self, it would be his corpse waiting to meet him.

She pressed the locks down forcefully, grateful that they were automatic lest she have to climb into the back and proceed to push down each one. She looked for any evidence that there was another presence in the car, but aside from her lone suitcase, there was nothing. Erik's must still be in the house.

She felt alone and vulnerable, and before she could chastise herself for any ridiculousness, she was crouching down on the floor of the passenger seat, already imagining a stray—or perhaps not so stray—bullet shattering the car window and striking her.

Christine very nearly started crying there on the floor. She hadn't thought, not really thought that he would find her.

But he had.

He had tracked them all the way from home. She'd never actually been safe, no matter what she had felt with Erik during their time together.

It was a sobering thought. Were her instincts so utterly wrong?

Erik cursed his rash behavior that had led to him going out in the rain without adequate covering. His mask was peeling slightly in places, and it was a testament to Christine's fear that she had not noticed. He longed to simply divest himself of it in its entirety and pull out one of his supple leather creations, but quickly dismissed the thought. Christine was more important than his comfort.

His skin protested his hurried reapplication, but he had no time to waste on coddling it. He was already angry. At his mangled flesh that made this necessary, at himself for not being able to immediately flee with Christine. And with whoever dared frighten her in this way.

He could admit to himself that he had considered dropping hints that the Phantom was not within custody, but things had been progressing nicely enough with Christine that such parlor tricks seemed unnecessary. He did not want her tears, nor her terror, and to have tormented her in such a way would be cruel.

Would the Daroga tease him in such a way? Leaving taunts before closing in for an arrest? Erik doubted it. Despite his many faults, he was not cruel.

Shadows from Erik's past flickered and whispered, but he refused to heed them.

It simply was not possible.

He had been free for years now—Nadir had seen to that. He had lived a quiet life at the theatre. A lonely life, but one of his own making. No one knew of his home, of his whereabouts; he had been so careful to keep himself hidden. He no longer played the assassin, he was a figment of the theatre's lore. He knew the managers would have paid well to see him removed—a temporary investment that would have proved far less painful to their coffers than his monthly fee. But the rest of the staff seemed to enjoy the game, the prickle at the back of their necks when he was near. They had even managed to bring in more funds with late night tours, showing wide eyed enthusiasts locations of some of his misdeeds. It was mildly insulting at first, with their sound effects and tales of their own bravery, but even Erik could admit to having a bit of sporting fun when he would startle even the guides with a well placed bit of ventriloquism or a simply rigged accident.

No one was hurt, he was careful of that, but every member of both staff and public left with a healthier respect for their resident Ghost.

Except now, when he was no longer safely tucked away within the bowels of the opera house, someone dared to threaten him and his charge.

And he wanted to rage at his impotence, for he did not even know where to begin.

They had to leave this place, of that he was certain. He felt a moment's loss that he would not get to accompany Christine on their walk, her bedecked in all her finery against the rain, and he promised himself that when they were safe—when he could be certain that they were truly alone, he would take her on such a venture.

This would not be the end for them. He would make certain.

His mask adequately applied, he zipped up his suitcase and wheeled it to the car, his breath stopping short as he realized he did not see Christine waiting within the confines of the vehicle. He rushed forward, releasing the handle of his suitcase as he did so, only to see her huddled on the passenger seat floor.

He frowned. "Christine? Are you injured?"

She glanced up, her eyes large and frightened at his seemingly unexpected approach, and she sheepishly shook her head before sliding to sit on the seat properly. "I'm all right," she assured him, though he noticed her slight wince as she bent her legs. Foolish girl. Did she not realize that she could incur injury to her knees from maintaining such a position for a prolonged period?

He debated on whether or not he should offer her one of his pain medications, but decided against it. They were mild, but she had slept soundly afterward, and though he assured himself that the man stupid enough to taunt him would never come close enough to make it necessary, he thought it best that she be lucid enough to flee of her own accord if needed.

Erik returned to his suitcase and placed it in the back with hers.

He should contact their landlord, he supposed. A normal person would. Long conversations about a lease temporarily ended did not appeal to him, nor haggling over the heavy charges that would undoubtedly be incurred. So instead he returned to the front door, locked it, and placed the key under the mat before returning to Christine. He would call the man in the morning and that would be it. There would be no discussion on anything else. If he attempted to pursue the matter further, especially with the law, he would discover that the Erik Durant that had secured the property did not exist. He might contact the authorities, but Erik and Christine would be far from this place by that time, possibly even across state lines, and he doubted the federal government would be interested in the case.

For a brief moment, he almost wished that the law could be on his side—that he could hand the note to a detective and demand they find the one who had placed it there.

But that would also limit his options when he uncovered who had done it at all. And Erik liked having options.

Christine was uncharacteristically quiet as they drove through the neighborhoods, and Erik began to feel nervous. She would be unhappy about their move, of course she would, and he did not blame her for it. He had expected them to live there for at least a few months, if not longer, and he knew she tired of living on the road.

"I am sorry, Christine," he told her truthfully. "You did not deserve this." Equally true. She had been an innocent, simply a loving daughter who wanted a cherished keepsake returned, and he in turn had murdered a man in front of her. And subsequently ruined her life.

Guilt ate at him, and for the first time he could not easily justify it away.

Not when someone was actively searching for her that was not a certain detective.

Christine gave him a grim smile, and he wished she had not even made the attempt. Those should be joyful things, stemming from a genuine feeling—not an offering based on her attempt to appease him. The freeway entrances loomed before him, and he selected one, not for any particular reason, merging into the traffic beyond.

He glanced at Christine once more and found that she was smoothing her thumb over the band he had given her, her expression almost sad. "Christine?"

She released a little sigh, and pulled it off. "I suppose I should give this back to you. I guess we won't be playing house after all."

There was something truly morose about her tone, as if she had enjoyed the short-lived fantasy, and for a moment he relished that knowledge—only to then recognize yet again that he was the cause of her sadness.

"We will start again, Christine. Somewhere with much water, as you requested. And this time you may stay there as long as you desire, and purchase many things to make yourself comfortable there." He wanted to make her feel better, but instead she merely looked out the window, her mouth pressed into an unhappy line.

Erik did not know what else to say, so he remained silent, though after a time he noted she had slipped the ring back onto her finger. Where it belonged.

They drove for some hours, Christine never making any requests to stop, but Erik doing so anyway. He hated her silence, the way she avoided looking at him, and he could only assume that she was furious with him. He should have protected her better. He should have assumed that he had made enemies that would be interested in his whereabouts—except what confused him most was that typically anyone that had cause to dislike him so intensely did not live beyond the temporary emotion.

He offered her money to purchase food, but unlike her usual cheerful acceptance, she merely shook her head and remained in the car, and Erik's worry for her grew.

When finally he could no longer stand the silence in the car, he deemed them far enough away to warrant stopping for the night. But unlike their previous travels, she did not simply wait for him to make arrangements with the hotel, instead keeping nearly to his elbow as she followed him inside.

Erik thought it very odd, especially given her apparent anger with him, but did not comment.

The rooms were of the same configuration as before, and Erik took up their bags while casting Christine surreptitious glances every so often. She needed to eat, of that he was certain, and perhaps then she would feel a little better. She was grumpy in the morning if he did not provide her with some measure of nutrition, though how a strong cup of tea qualified he still was not certain. He settled the bags in their respective rooms, opening the adjoining door before addressing her. "Shall I order you something?"

Christine hesitated before slowly shaking her head. "I think... I think I'm just going to go to bed."

Erik's eyes narrowed, assessing her. Her posture was a little strange, almost hunched as she stood rather awkwardly in the middle of the room, and her arms were held about her middle. A defensive posture.

"Are you certain? You must take care of yourself, Christine, or at least allow me to do so."

But instead of acquiescing, she merely nodded, standing a bit taller. "I'm sure. I'm just going to change and go to bed. I have a headache and could use some extra sleep. Besides," she continued, her mouth curving into a hint of a smile, though her eyes remained distant, "No doubt we'll be leaving bright and early in the morning."

Perhaps he should be grateful for her attempt at teasing, but he only grew more worried for her. "Would you care for some medication to alleviate your headache? If you were in pain, you should have told me sooner and I would have provided something."

She shook her head, inching toward her suitcase. "No, really, I'm fine. I just need some sleep. But thank you, Erik."

There was a dismissive quality to her tone, and although he wished to linger, to prod and determine precisely what troubled her and in what way he would make it right, he was not some brute that would trespass in her doorway when he was no longer wanted.

That did not keep it from stinging slightly at her rejection.

He would have shut the door between them entirely, but now there was more of a threat in the world than the likes of Detective Nadir, so with some reluctance he once more fashioned the ice bucket into a doorstop, for the first time regretting that he could not close it entirely.

Christine might need to nurse her headache, but Erik needed to keep from shattering completely. They had such promise between them, in their little house together, and while he could supply her another one, Christine did not seem amiable to any warmth between them any longer.

And he had not expected to feel so devastated at the realization.

Sooo... not Erik then who left the note! But things don't seem right as rain between them either... Who's worried about that?