Apologies for the wait. This chapter took a while to come to me, but I think it was worth it. I don't know how Christine survives this chapter as well as she does, to be honest. She won't catch a break in this fic, and certainly not now.

Oh, and this is just a request from me. I'd prefer no cursing in the comments. I'm glad you all are so enthusiastic, though, but it's just a personal preference. Thanks!

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Thud... thud... thud...

My hands were trembling from exertion. My whole body threatened to collapse from all the forces waging war against it.

There had been infrequent noises behind the door, quiet conversations, a sentence or two, and the sounds of a desert. The last made me think I was going mad. It didn't seem that far-fetched after everything that I would be imagining sounds.

Without warning came Erik's cry of rage, "You spoke to my WIFE?!"

I found myself backing away from the door in terror of what new horrors awaited me. The door swung open, revealing a skull atop skeletal shoulders that showed through the black impeccable attire.

I promptly shrieked and pulled myself away from the sight, but the specter grabbed my arms and took me inside, shutting the door behind me. An attempted turn of the handle and I found I was locked in. My throat produced a choked sound that I only realized was my own a moment following.

"You know this man, don't you?" Erik asked, his voice the tip of an icicle. "Don't you, my Christine?"

"N-no," I replied honestly. "I've seen him wandering around the opera house, but-"

"Don't lie!" He made an effort to calm himself by pausing. "He was awake when I came in. He thought I had hurt you," he turned to the torture chamber and roared, "as if I was monstrous enough to harm my own wife!"

"I don't know him, I swear. Please, I don't know h-him."

"Erik," the Persian interjected, "I told you already-"

"You came in here with a pistol," Erik said coolly, "and conspired with my wife."

"Conspired?" I asked in bewilderment, glancing around as if others were around to support me. "No, no, I don't know him!"

"What did he tell you?"

"N-nothing."

"What did he tell you?!"

The Persian said, "It's alright, mademoiselle, tell him-"

"Don't tell my wife what to do!" Erik retorted. "You are not allowed to speak to her!... Well, what did he say?"

The bee found its way back into my ear.

"Are you afraid I'll hurt you?" He inquired, his voice gentle. "Why would I harm you for hearing him? Why would I ever harm you?"

"I'm afraid of you hurting him," I replied.

"That depends on what he said."

"But he didn't say anything!"

Erik sighed in irritation, "Alright, daroga, what did you say?"

"I told her the truth."

"The truth?..." He chuckled. "Which one?"

"You don't have Raoul," I whispered.

"What was that, my dear-?"

"You don't. Have. Raoul."

He was still for a moment, perfectly still. The three black pits in his face did not stretch, did not relax, concealing any emotion of his from me. The Persian and I waited in breathless silence for his response.

Then his lips, so thin they were near translucent, parted just enough to reveal his crowded teeth, and the corners turned up in mockery.

"You would believe a man you barely know over me?" Erik inquired. "You trust him? He knows if I have the boy, you will listen to me, so of course he lied and said I do not. But I do, and if you lie again or speak up like this, I'll bring him here and he'll join the Persian man-"

"Mademoiselle," the Persian exclaimed, "he doesn't have-!"

"When has your mouth ever done you any good?" Erik sighed, almost tut-tutting under his breath. "I had just come to the conclusion not to kill you, as it would please my wife to keep you alive, but you are making it rather difficult to consider letting you go this time. After all, I have repaid you for, what do you call it?... Saving my life? Well, I have saved your worthless Persian hide twice now, you know, twice! I saved you from the siren, then allowed you to walk away free after you had been prying into my private life. Am I not permitted that? A private life? A normal house where no one is watching and listening?... Well, daroga, am I not?!"

"You won't kill him," I asked softly, trembling still, "w-will you?"

"My wife doesn't want you dead, daroga," Erik chuckled icily, "although you lied to her and attempted to have her kill me."

"Kill you?"

"He evidently planned for you to free him, without knowing he had a pistol, and then he would kill me. I had thought before that you knew about this plan, but I see you still care at least enough for me to not die, and you had no idea of this. You wouldn't condone a death." Then he added softly, "Though you did lie to me..."

"You can't kill him, please," I searched desperately for an excuse, "not right before our wedding!"

"I won't kill him," he replied, with surety.

"You... you won't-?"

"Don't listen to him, mademoiselle," the Persian interjected. "He-"

"Would you be quiet?!" Erik roared. "You've caused my wife a good deal of stress, you know, she's nearly fainting with it! I ought to kill you right now for that! She doesn't like people dying, daroga, not even a man she barely knows, or an entire crowd of strangers! How could you force me to commit such a crime against her by killing you? The poor thing is trembling like a leaf over here, you know, a beautiful leaf! The tree in there doesn't have leaves now, does it? Nor a breeze to make them tremble, if it had some... Well, daroga, silent at last? What a relief. Isn't it lovely, my dear, that he won't speak? He cares for strangers just as you do, albeit I assume many men would die for you. I certainly would not hesitate... Is he behaving well enough for me to let him go, my darling? Should I take him back now?"

"Yes, please, Erik, please take him back-"

"But there's a problem with that. Can you tell me what it is, my little Christine?"

"I-I don't know." I turned to the torture chamber, my jaw loosening in realization. "His pistol..."

"Yes, if I let him go, wouldn't he shoot me?"

"Then... have him throw it away."

Erik laughed, "How would he manage that?"

"I... I could go inside-"

"Then he would know where the door was. Don't you see?"

"But you promised!"

"I had forgotten about the pistol."

I could feel my mind unraveling, my senses tumbling into hysteria. Erik was laughing in my head, accompanied by the buzzing noise, and he was speaking to me as he laughed, as the bee tormented, speaking to me amiably and with terrible threats until I couldn't bear it anymore!

He gasped in surprise as my hand collided with his chest, thudding against the bone. My eyes widened in horror at my actions, what I could never have done, and yet just did!

After overcoming his shock, he secured my wrists in his hands, dragging me outside the room. I told him that I hadn't meant any harm, that I had only been frightened and confused! The Persian in turn yelled at Erik not to harm me, pleaded with him, as if I were his own daughter.

I was writhing and wailing like a proper madwoman. Erik had to keep adjusting his grip on my arms as one would to a child throwing a tantrum.

I didn't know which room he was taking me to, or what he would do to me there, or if he would do anything at all! Would he punish me? Shut me away in some miserable place?

He released me for a brief moment, simply to open the kitchen door. I attempted to flee, but tripped over my skirts, falling flat upon my face, too weak to rise again. My strength was broken.

He picked me up gingerly with a small gasp. I tasted blood, so I must have hurt my nose, adding to the carnage that decorated my features.

I was utterly exhausted by that point, too much to stand, and collapsed on the other side of the kitchen door. Erik rummaged around his menagerie of cabinets. Upon finding what he sought, he prepared it in the corner, away from my view, before bringing it swiftly to my lips while I pulled my features taut and turned my head.

He grabbed my chin so that I would face him, and I presently began to cry. I had been wailing before, but this was soft and pitiful. Perhaps the weak tears made him realize he had terrified me too much, handled me too roughly, because he set down his knee, assuming the position of one praying, save that his hands clasped a cup instead of each other.

"He's upset you very much," Erik told me in his softest voice, the one too perfect for a man to manage.

I shrunk further into myself.

"You didn't mean to hit your poor Erik, did you?" He asked, his sweet tones crackling slightly from hurt.

I shook my head.

"Good, of course you didn't mean to, you were only distressed. And that's why you lied, yes?... So need you to drink this now, to help you."

"There's blood," I whispered.

He placed a napkin beneath my nose, soaking up the red paste, "There, I'll clean it up better while you sleep."

"I don't want to sleep," I pleaded uselessly, "you'll kill him, you lied to me, you've lied so much-"

"Shh, I'll let him go."

I blinked in surprise, "No you won't-"

"I promise. I have a way."

"Promise... o-on my life."

He hesitated, "I promise on your life, I will let him go."

He tipped the cup to my lips, but I continued crying.

"You need to drink this," he told me again. "If you don't I will kill him."

My throat emitted a whimper as the cup found its away to my lips again. I hesitated but a moment before draining it, devoid of strength and hoping perhaps he had mistakenly given me poison.

My eyelids grew heavy as Erik placed the cup upon the counter. Then he stooped down to pick me up, and with whatever I had left in me, I flinched, but fell asleep a mere second later.

Panting. Running. My hair flew wild behind me. Fog crept up to my waist. All around were dark trees, sticking out of the ground like stakes, towering above my head and forming a net against the night sky.

Something was behind me. I could hear it rustling in the bushes. The foliage was buried in mist.

Don't turn around, don't turn around...

"Christine, Christine..."

I could feel my heart. It was far too heavy for my chest. It weighed me down, pounding throughout me like a timpani.

The rustling grew louder behind me. I had to move faster.

The fog curled up to my chin. A gray abyss below me, a black expanse above. No stars.

A white chapel appeared the center of the forest. The bells chimed in my ears, offering safety, security, somewhere to hide.

I pushed the doors open. A long red carpet, ran the length of the chapel, but red as wine or red as blood? Rows of pews. A crucible.

Two figures at the end. One was a priest in white robes. He clutched a book the color of red wax in his hands and possessed the range of expressions of a block of marble.

"Ah, here's the bride," he said, his pale lips barely parting.

A dark figure stood beside him. He turned to me. His face was a skull, his body a skeleton. The bones gave way, clattering to the floor in a mass of gleaming white.

I screamed and tore the dream in half.

I panted, taking in my surroundings. The Louis-Philippe room was opaque black, and I stumbled around in it, seeking the door. I felt my nose and found it covered in gauzy fabric.

Of all the actions I could have taken at that moment, I began to run a bath. At first I thought my mind had unconsciously decided I was to drown myself, but as I slipped inside, I had no intent of dying. I would ruin the bandage on my nose, first of all.

The door to the room opened and I cried out in alarm, causing it to promptly slam shut. Erik stammered apologies on the other side, telling me he was so excited to see his wife that he had neglected to knock. That frightened me.

I sat in the bath for perhaps a quarter of an hour admiring my bruises until I realized I ought to be washing myself. But then once this was finished, I couldn't bring myself to leave the lukewarm water. I waited until Erik knocked on my door to stir.

"Christine, my love?" He called. "Why are you depriving me of your company?"

It was then I realized I was shaking all over with cold, and I began to drain the water.

The door burst open without warning. I pushed up my knees to my chest and clutched them as Erik came into the doorway, his yellow pallor bleached white from dread. He gasped and turned upon seeing me.

"You're alive!" He cried in relief, beginning to sob. "I thought you had tried to kill yourself again, though you promised to marry me... forgive me for seeing you, it's not right, but I was afraid, of course, so it's alright, I was afraid for my wife..."

"Fiancée," I whispered, placing my head upon my damp knees.

"What difference does it make? You'll be my wife tomorrow..." He sighed in delight at the thought, still turned away from me so I could only see the wisps of black hair clinging to his yellow scalp. "How wonderful that will be, to be married, to never be alone and have someone to adore and entertain..."

I began to cry again, still curled up around myself in the cold water. I was shivering violently.

"You should get dressed now," he told me, oblivious. "I'll leave you alone, but be quick, I have a surprise for you."

I let out a choked sob and a noticeable shudder ran up his thin frame at the noise.

"Why do you cry?" He demanded pitifully. "It's not a surprise like before... It's alright if you cry now, if you feel you must. You'll see marriage to me is not so terrible. You'll see..."

He left the room. I remembered there was still the slight chance he had Raoul, and this was all that gave me the will to dress. I stepped outside the room with all the enthusiasm of a ghost on its rounds, save that my feet dragged upon the ground instead of floating.

"Would you like breakfast, my darling?" Erik asked from the dining room.

I turned to find a few fine china bowls containing all manner of fruits set out upon the table, as well as a place for me. I shook my head, unable to manage a 'no, thank you.'

"Would you like to see your surprise?" He inquired.

"Yes," I breathed, placing myself upon the sofa with the rigid posture of a sacrifice.

He went off to his room and returned with a flat white box tied with a cherry-red bow. It was too small to be a dress, perhaps a necklace?

I tugged loose the bow, discarding it beside me, and pulled the lid open. The piece sparkled in the light as it surfaced, a silver necklace with diamonds entwined about the chain. The largest sat in the center, grand and glittering like a drop of rain.

I hastily shut the box. A sickening feeling nestled in the pit of my stomach at realizing I would be wearing only his purchases the rest of my life. My dresses, my jewelry, my everything would be his. It was as if he was laying a claim on me with his gifts.

"You don't like it?" He asked, hurt.

"I-"

He snatched it away from me, "You women are such difficult creatures!"

And he stormed into his room without another word. Thank goodness.

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EXPLANATION because my writing wasn't clear, apologies. Erik was not being stupid about the pistol, he knew fully well about it before, he just likes to mess with people and Christine had irritated him. And she wasn't really in a rational state of mind that she could say "have him remove all the bullets" or something more logical than her previous answers.

But did Erik free the Persian? After all, he swore on Christine's life...