Hey guys! I just want to explain a few things before we get into this fan fiction- well, I'm hoping there's a we, hopefully I'm not just writing this to a crowd of 0. I see a lot of modern day stories based around PotO and you know what? I'm hooked on them, they're always brilliant to read and some of my favourite fan fictions are modern day. But I was reading a few and I noticed you don't really get to see the aftermath much, or at least one where Christine hasn't fallen hopelessly in love, so I just wanted to mix things up.

The chapters will get a bit weird when it comes to chronological order, I'll be telling the story both from the point of view of after and during the kidnapping, so if you're ever confused please just ask some questions. Heck, any review's great even if it's just confusion!

Hope you enjoy!

The interrogation room was empty for the time being, while there seemed to be all too many people in Christine's opinion watching from behind the one way mirror. She remained at the back of the room, her knees shaking with fear as her hands fiddled with the hem of her shirt. At that moment she felt quite alone in the world despite the presence of the counsellor that the police department had put her in custody of, Nadir Kahn. He seemed a kindly enough man with warm eyes and a gentle voice, but Christine was in no position to place her trust in him quite yet.

The room went quiet when two men entered the interrogation room, one an officer while the other was simply what was left of a man. Christine stiffened slightly as she watched what was happening from behind several men. She felt Nadir's hand put itself firmly yet kindly on her shoulder, and it was at this point she realised how violently she had indeed been shaking from fear. She looked up towards him with wide eyes and a slack jaw, looking for words to say.

"They can't make you go in," Nadir said reassuringly, smiling. "Not if you don't want to."

"I want to," Christine replied quickly. "Will everyone be watching?"

"I'm afraid so. It's for your protection, though."

"He won't hurt me," Christine said quietly, bowing her head. "He'd never hurt me if he could help it."

"I know, Christine. But they don't."

Christine smiled weakly and shook her head.

"You don't know." Nadir did not reply to this, instead giving her shoulder a small squeeze before letting his arm fall limp beside him. There were a few murmurs amongst the men in the room as they watched the interrogation taking place.

The officer seemed too animated in Christine's opinion as he spoke, obviously gaining no reply. Despite any training in violence or resistance that he may of received, it seemed the man had no training when it came to complete and utter ignorance of his existence. Christine was brought out of her moment of dazed unawareness by a loud screech of the officer's chair being pulled back as he stormed from the room, pinching the bridge of his nose. He entered the hidden room and flung his hands in defeat.

"He won't say a word, not a single fucking word."

"Well shouting at him wasn't gonna do anything," one of the detectives pointed out, snickering. "You might wanna try and use a different tactic next time."

"Like hell I am! I'm not going back in there, that guy's a complete freak!"

They were all quiet for a few minutes, some staring at the floor as if in thought while others could not help but be curious and look through the mirror at the man they had caught. Christine did neither, instead closing her eyes and taking a few moments to breath deeply, gathering her wits until she could stop herself from shaking. She looked towards Nadir and placed a hand on his arm, smiling as bravely as she could.

"I think I'm ready," she said, catching the attention of most in the room. "Can I go in?"

"Sure thing, darling," the detective who had previously spoken said, extending a hand towards her. He tried so hard to seem kind, Christine thought to herself, but it really did not help. She didn't want pity or sympathy. "Do you want someone in there with you?"

Christine shook her head emphatically, following him across the room though refusing to touch the offered hand.

"We're right here in case anything happens. If he says anything to upset you, anything at all, you're free to come back in, the door's going to be unlocked. If he does anything, we'll send someone in straight away. Okay?"

Swallowing thickly, Christine nodded. How she wished they would all just leave her alone in peace for a bit while they spoke, but she knew that wasn't how it worked back here. Back here. As if she had been living on a different planet for the past year. The detective opened the door and allowed her in, the door closing not too long after she stepped into the interrogation room. It was bright, to say the least. Plain, clean, and bright. Awfully bright.

She moved slowly towards the table, though could see that she was being ignored quite pointedly. She cleared her throat, and still without a response she repeated the action. No response.

"Erik?" Christine finally asked, at the table now but without the heart to sit. As if she expected to be offered the seat, or at least be given permission to sit. "Erik, will you speak to me?"

As in response, Erik sunk his head into his arms, childishly shielding himself from her gaze. Oh, yes, Christine had seen that face, and he had allowed her to freely look upon it when she so decided. But there were those strangers about, watching their meeting as if they were animals in a zoo. To be caged was one thing, but Christine knew that Erik would never abide by this voyeurism without a struggle. They had stripped him of his mask and had disallowed him from wearing it again.

"You don't have to look at me then," she whispered, smiling weakly. "I understand. But please talk. That's why I came."

She was still returned with silence, and to occupy the time Christine took hold of the chair the officer had taken out his abuse on and pulled it to the table, sitting tentatively as if it were an action to be frowned upon. The man before her had not moved an inch, and if she could not hear the slow, rhythmic sound of his breath Christine would have been sure he had died. She searched through her mind for something to say, any topic that would stir him, but found nothing.

"You know, they won't stop calling me darling and sweetheart," Christine said as conversationally as she could, no longer caring that they could hear every word that was said. "I haven't been called sweetheart since I was six."

Silence.

"They're nice, though. I guess. I got a counsellor for some reason. Just in case, I guess."

Silence.

Christine clenched fists tightly as she thought of what else there was to say. Of course there were a thousand things she wanted to say. Deep inside she knew all she wanted to do was scream at this man, the man who had taken away so much of her, and yet had given so much in return. Whatever she had received, though, could not quell her anger. But he was damaged. Far beyond the reaches that she could see, deep in his very being, he was damaged in a way that Christine was never able to fix. The very last thing she wanted to do was break whatever was left him, however tempting it was.

"I'm not going to say it was a regular kidnapping," Christine began slowly, clasping her hands and gripping until her knuckles went white. "They want to know what I'm going to say at the trial, and… I'm not going to say it was evil or anything. It wasn't."

There was something in the rise of Erik's shoulders that told Christine she was in fact being heard, though he did not wish to respond at that moment.

"I'm going to say you're insane," she spat out, closing her eyes tightly as if she were awaiting a blow. "It's the only explanation, right? You're mad- you can't help it, you didn't know what you were doing. I've seen you, I know you, and I know you've been struggling with something, whatever it is. But you're not in your right of mind, Erik…"

She trailed off, realising that slowly, as she had been speaking, Erik had stretched out a hand and laid his fingers gently on her clasped hands. Christine sniffed at the sight, sure she would cry if she did not ignore the touch. She had been so used to gloved fingertips that even now the bare flesh was something to be appreciated. Trembling slightly, but determined, Christine looked up into Erik's eyes which were now revealed to her, though he kept his head turned and hand propped up in a way that concealed as much of his face as he could from the mirror.

"I'm not mad," he choked out, the first words he had said in what could possibly have been days. "At least, not in the way you think I am. And you know it."

"I know that there is something wrong with you that I only made worse," Christine said lowly, as if there was a possibility they wouldn't hear her. "I also know that there are places that can help, and fighting it out with thugs and evil, evil men in prison won't help at all."

"And you would gladly label me a madman to the world instead?" Erik asked seriously. Too serious. Christine knew that tone and her blood ran cold remembering it. Slowly, though, she nodded. There were men ready to help if Erik did lash out. Indeed, the touch on her hands went deeper, as if he were repressing his rage.

"Don't you dare try and make me seem like the bad guy here," Christine warned with a shaking voice. "I haven't said a single thing about you to them, I swear. And I never will. I'm still wearing your ring, you know? They think I'm the mad one for doing it, like I'm going through some sort of Stockholm Syndrome. I'm willing to risk that. All I ask of you is to do something for me. For your own good."

Erik prised open Christine's left hand, turning it over in his own and smiling slightly.

"You are still wearing it," he said. Though he smiled, his tone was still serious, lulling her into a false sense of security. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I want to," Christine replied. "Because I want everyone to see what's happened. I want everyone to know that I will still allow myself to be married to you." She paused for a moment and then closed her eyes, stealing her hand back. "I don't know if they knew that bit," she whispered, lowering her head. "Dear God, Erik, I really am mad, aren't I?"

She noticed that her hands were trembling as she raised them to her face, biting down hard on her lip to stop the singular sob that wished to echo through the room.

"Madness is only another boundary to be broken."

"That's easy for you to say," Christine murmured from behind her hands, letting them simply hover over her face now. "You don't live here, do you? You live in a completely different world, one where men wear masks and opera is the highest form of art. God, you live in a world where art exists, where you can be swayed by music and imagery that we don't have anymore! You don't have to live in this world. Look at you! You've lived so long confined in a waistcoat you don't look normal… oh, you know what I mean!" she added when she saw the glare that she was given.

"You belong to that world too," Erik said. Very matter of fact. "You are a creature of emotion, of feeling, Christine. And because of that… yes, you belong in that world."

At this Christine stood and stumbled backwards, away from the chair, away from the table, and away from Erik. The very words scared her, as if they were magic and threatened to do something hideous to her. Erik only looked at her with curiosity, nothing out of the ordinary. Christine knew then that Erik had intended this fear. He knew her far too well, and knew how to pull a reaction from her without her consent. She clutched at her throat, feeling ready to vomit at any moment, her eyes never leaving Erik's for a moment.

"You don't know anything," she hissed, pointing an accusing finger towards him. "You don't know a single fucking thing about me!"

"It's been too long for you to hold up that pretence, Christine," Erik said, that angry tone still in his voice, only serving to infuriate her more.

"Why must you always be so angry with me?" she asked, feeling her eyes tearing up. "You say such horrible things and when I fight back, you get angry, as if I'm not meant to fight back! I won't be spoken to like that, not anymore Erik!"

"You don't have a choice in the matter, Christine."

"Yes, I do, Erik. Because I can leave, I could leave you right now."

"If you could leave me right now," Erik said sternly, "then you already would have done so. The door has been there this entire time and I am quite sure I have infuriated you already on several counts. And yet you are still here."

Christine opened her mouth to speak but could not say anything. She placed a hand to her lips, feeling them tremble, feeling her hands shake, thinking desperately of anything to say. Anything. Dear God, how he infuriated her.

"Why are you here?" Erik asked quietly, his tone relenting back to his childish instincts, pleading with her. "To torture me by calling me mad? Or to flaunt yourself as a good little wife? You confess you will remain married to me, but you find yourself furious when I state your devotion."

"Stop talking, please," Christine whispered, bringing her hands again towards her face but half heartedly leaving them a good distance away from her, afraid to feel her emotions beneath her own fingertips. "Please, stop talking, please, please…"

"Or is it for them? To show that you really are part of this world still, to pretend that you haven't changed? You always said you wouldn't give in and I suppose you really haven't, at no matter what the cost. Oh, I saw it Christine, I know you gave in, I know that you came to leave this world behind, I know that you were willing to accept everything, even if it was only for a brief moment."

"Stop talking, please, stop talking, stop talking, please…"

"If you truly wanted to rebel you would not have come here today, or you would have exerted more control. If you hadn't given in you would either already be home or it would be you standing here while I cowered in the corner like a child. Christine, don't snivel like that, you have what you've always wanted, don't you? Despite everything, despite all that you've said, this was secretly what you always wanted, to be found and rescued, for me to be locked away?"

"Please, please, stop, please stop talking, stop…"

"Look at me, Christine!" Erik yelled as he gripped her wrists, hoisting them up and forcing her to look at him through her tears. The officers seemed to have waited until the very last moment as those fingers gripped tightly enough to leave deep, purple bruises before they finally charged into the room, two of the men pulling Erik back. He seemed to growl like a feral beast as they did so, but Christine did not notice. She felt Nadir's warm, safe embrace pull her back to her feet- she had not realised she had sunk to the floor weeping- and half drag, half carry her away from the room.

"Ssh, ssh now, you've done so well, you've been very brave," Nadir whispered into her ear, stroking her hair. Christine only sobbed louder, feeling as if she had her father back from the grave only to comfort her. She gripped Nadir's shirt tightly and cried into his shoulder, allowing him to whisper generic comforts to her. "Let it out, love, it's been a long day. You really have been so very brave."

Christine shook her head furiously, wrapping her arms around Nadir's chest and pulling him tightly to her- or at least as tightly as she could in her state. He tried to quieten her again but she only shook her head over and over.

"I'm not brave," she sobbed, finally summoning the strength to create words through her tears. "I'm not brave at all."