A/N: I don't own POTO, I just play with them for my own amusement. So, I've done a little time jump, just a couple of weeks. I didn't know what to put in there. Enjoy!

Christine's POV:

It was the night of our first date. Erik and I have been growing closer of the past weeks and it's been wonderful. I'm so happy that this time I'm actually getting to know him as a person. Yesterday he finally asked me if I would go out to dinner with him, not business related. I said yes right away and had to contain my excitement so that I didn't scream.

I was standing outside my house and he had just pulled up in his car. He drove a gorgeous '73 Challenger; bright red with black lines across the hood. Not many people knew, but I was a bit of a car enthusiast.

"I love your car." I said, getting into the passengers seat.

"Thank you. I just love the look of older cars. They had more style than the things people are driving around today." He smiled at my compliment.

"I know, colours are starting to disappear. Everything looks so boring now." I gave a small laugh.

He had chosen a nice restaurant, not too fancy, but nice and quiet. We were in the middle of our meal, discussing old cars. It was so much fun, I hardly ever found someone who loved older cars as much as I did. Well, older people, but never anyone closer to my own age.

"When I was growing up my parents had a gorgeous '67 Impala. According to my dad, they bought it just after I was born. I'm not sure whether I believe him, but I loved that car." I smiled at the memory.

"What do you drive?" Erik asked.

"Nothing, not worth it in New York. Too much traffic and taxi cabs." I paused, thinking for a minute. "If I ever moved out of the city I might buy one though. Maybe not an Impala, but some sort of classic car. Fix it up and drive it around whenever I want. That, or just admire it."

"You know, you are the strangest young woman I've ever met." He steepled his fingers, giving me a thoughtful look.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" I asked.

"Good, it means you're unique. That's what I like about you the most." He smiled at me.

In moments like this, I had trouble reconciling the Erik I knew then with the Erik I know now. He's changed so much. He's gentle, kind, caring. Come to think of it, he may have been those things then; I just never got to see that side of him.

Then the waiter came with the check. Erik paid, then took my hand and led me out of the restaurant.

"Would you like to come back to my place for drinks?" He asked.

"Of course." I replied.

When we entered Erik's home, I wasn't surprised in the least. Lavishly decorated, the halls were covered in paintings and there were ornate rugs on the floor. He led me into what I assumed was the living room and went to get our drinks. I looked around and of course there was a small organ sitting in the corner. I walked over to it and had a look over. It was beautiful.

"Do you play?" I jumped at the sound of his voice. "Did I startle you?"

"Just a little." I replied, taking the offered drink. "And no, I don't play, but I knew someone who did." I hoped that wasn't cutting it too close.

"Did?" He asked, not suspicious in the least. "What happened to them?"

I looked down at the floor, trying to keep my emotions in check. He couldn't know that I knew. I mean, technically he never died. He was standing right in front of me for crying out loud! I had to play this right, let him think it was somebody else. Somebody from this life.

"He died, quite suddenly. He was a teacher of mine and I cared for him deeply." I said, being as vague as possible.

"He was a teacher of yours?" He asked.

"Yes, it was a great loss to many people."

"I'm sorry for your loss." He said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"That's all right, it was a long time ago." I said, trying to put on a smile. Looking at the organ I remembered. "Didn't you tell me that you compose music?"

He stammered a bit in his answer. "Y-Yes, but it's not finished yet."

"Please, can I hear some of it?" I pleaded. I desperately wanted to hear him play again. I'd wanted that since the day he sang with me in rehearsal.

He hesitated for a moment, but gave in to my pleas. He sat at the organ and started to play the aria from Don Juan Triumphant. After the first twelve bars, he stopped. He looked at me in what I can only describe as shock.

I had a smile on my face; he played so beautifully. "Why did you stop?" I asked.

"Your audition, you sang this song." He whispered.

"How is that possible?" I tried to cover. "You're writing this now. The piece I sang, Meg found it buried in the basement of the library."

"No, you sang this song." He said with conviction. "Christine, how long have you known?"

There was no lying now; I just had to hope for the best. I took a deep breath. "Since that dinner before rehearsals started." I looked down at my hands. I didn't want to see him angry. I knew what that looked like and it wasn't pretty.

"So you've known all this time and yet you haven't run away." He didn't sound angry, he sounded as if he was in awe.

"Why would I run away?" I asked.

"Me."

Please R&R!