New chapter - and it's getting a bit fluffy, since our not-yet couple is spending some quality time together. Sorry, Nadir-fans, he and the attackers will have to wait till the next chapter Ha, and I already know exactly what Erik will say, once he sees the baby for the first time, but the baby is not due for another month or so...

Anyway, I still don't own anything or anybody, sadly. I do love all my loyal readers and reviewers, though, it does mean a lot to me that you are all following my stories! So, on to the new chapter - let the fluff begin! ;-)

Chapter 5 – Reunion

Erik safely cradled Christine in his right arm. Holding César's reins in his left hand, he turned his horse around and regained the wood. In order to keep Christine safe, he had to make sure that they could not be traced too easily and therefore he used every trick he knew to shake off potential pursuers. As soon as he reached rocky territory where the horse would leave no hoof prints, he forced César into the water, riding in the brook for half a mile, which would confuse dogs, should Théophile-Auguste decide to use those to find the missing Vicomtesse. Erik then left the rivulet and made his way towards the barn they had seen from the scene of the attack and where Nadir had told him to wait for him and Darius.

At first Erik was concentrating exclusively on getting away from the attackers as quickly as possible and on getting his beloved Christine out of harm's way. But once he and Christine were out of immediate danger, realization of what had just happened hit him, and a wave of happiness he had never expected to feel again, washed through him. He gazed down at the unconscious woman in wonder. Was he dreaming or was he really holding Christine in his arms once again? As incredible as it seemed, she was really there, he could feel her body against his, and he could even sense her heartbeat, but the greatest miracle of all was that she had recognized him and that she had not been scared by his presence. She had even smiled at him and had called him "Angel", as she used to do, before the Vicomte had shattered Erik's dreams of finding happiness with Christine. That tiny smile of recognition had warmed Erik's heart in a way he had never before experienced, and had filled him with hope that maybe Christine could forgive him and grant him her friendship once again. He was not hoping for love anymore. He understood now that it had been foolish to expect a young, beautiful, talented girl like Christine to fall for an ugly, much older madman with a criminal past like him. He would content himself with her friendship. Maybe, if he managed not to frighten her again, he could win back her trust and she would allow him to see her every now and then.

Erik was still thinking how wonderful life could be if he had Christine's friendship again, when they reached the barn. He slid off the horse carefully, not to harm the still unconscious woman in his arms. He carried her into the building and looked around. Obviously the farmers from a nearby village used this barn for storage of hay and straw. He smiled, his Christine would not have to rest on the hard floor. Putting Christine down on her own feet, his right arm protectively wrapped around her waist to support her, he turned towards his loyal horse César, who had followed him inside. With his free left hand he managed to untie his cloak, which he had rolled up and attached to the saddle. He then threw the cloak on a heap of hay to make a comfortable bed for Christine and gently laid her down on top of it. Since she was still unconscious, he pulled a flask of water out of one of his saddlebags and sprinkled her face with the clear liquid. As Christine began to stir, Erik rose to his feet and stepped to the side. He didn't want to seem too imposing, he wanted her to understand that he had changed and was now willing to grant her her space. Then he watched as she slowly opened her eyes and he waited nervously for her reaction.

Xxx

Christine felt drowsy. She remembered the carriage, having been tired and in great need of rest with no village or inn in sight, and then – memory of the attack returned and she suddenly was wide awake. Then there had been a detonation like a gunshot, and the horses had gone crazy, and the carriage had almost fallen into the water, she had panicked … and then … somebody had tried to pull her out of the carriage and she had been so scared and had fought him… she closed her eyes again to clear her mind. She must have been dreaming, for she had imagined being rescued by the one person she had always turned to when she needed help as a child, the one person, who had always been there for her, consoling her, comforting her, giving her advice. But he could not have been here, for he was dead. He had perished in the fire at the Opera Populaire, the fire he himself had started by dropping the chandelier on the audience. Or maybe he had been hunted down by the mob. She shuddered. She had not thought of this night for over a year, it had been too painful. She knew that what had happened then had been her fault. She felt guilty for having broken her teacher's heart and thus caused his fragile psyche to shatter and his mind to turn to madness. She had ultimately caused his downfall and his death. Since her feeling of guilt had been overwhelming, her mind had shut off that part of her brain which contained the memories of this terrible night. It had been a mechanism of protection. Why, oh why, was she suddenly remembering all this? What had triggered her memory? Why had she imagined her Angel coming to her rescue? Had it been wishful thinking? Or had her mind instinctively cried out to him for help, to him who – despite all the lies that had been between them - had never let her down? Tears welled in her eyes. There was no use calling to him for help now. Even if he were not dead, he would not want anything to do with her anymore, for she had hurt him too badly. She remembered his tear-streaked face only too well, when she had returned the ring to him that night. He had been heart-broken, devastated. Even if he lived, she could never hope that he would one day forgive her.

When she felt her baby kick her, Christine's thoughts returned to her current situation. Somebody must have gotten her out of the carriage before that vehicle had crashed into the water and brought her here. Wherever she was right now. She opened her eyes again and looked around. She was obviously in some kind of barn, there was only one tiny window which did not let in much light, but she could discern hay and straw lying around. She herself seemed to lie on a thick layer of hay, but there was something between her and the hay, some fabric, maybe a blanket? She inspected it more closely and gasped. This could not be. She was obviously still dreaming. The fabric on which she was lying looked like one of the cloaks her Angel used to wear. She looked around and finally she saw him. To her right, half-hidden in the shadows, stood a tall, thin man. He had his face half averted from her, but there was no doubt in her anymore as to his identity. The sudden joy was almost too much for her. She had no idea how he could still be alive, how he happened to be here, and why he, of all people, would have come to her rescue, but her Angel was most definitely there, watching over her again, as he had always done.

Christine was deeply touched. After all the pain she had caused him, he had come to her rescue. He still cared for her and looked after her, despite her betrayal. She felt as if she had finally found home. Whenever she had been in trouble her Angel had helped her. He would help her this time as well. Nothing had been able to change that, not his heartbreak, not her marriage to another man, not their long separation. He had already rescued her – and in doing so probably had saved her baby's life as well. He would help her further. A radiant smile brightened Christine's haggard features. She extended her arms towards her savior and whispered "Angel!"

Erik slowly turned towards her. He still could not believe that his beloved Christine would not be frightened by his presence. Did she not know what he was capable of? Had she not seen him at his worst that night so many months ago? He hesitantly stepped a bit closer.

Christine smiled at him. She felt like God had granted her a miracle. Her Angel was alive! However badly she had hurt him, at least she was not guilty of his death, and she still had his friendship. He was much thinner than she remembered him, though, as if he had been ill, but he was muscular and strong, and the uncovered part of his face showed a slightly healthier color than it used to. He obviously was not spending his life underground anymore.

"Angel," she repeated, "come here. Please!" Erik rushed to her side and sat down next to her again. "Christine, are you all right?" he asked, his voice heavy with concern. "How is your baby?" She smiled at him, grasping his hand with both of hers. She had to touch him, to convince herself that he was real, that he was still alive. "You saved us. You saved both our lives, Angel," she whispered, caressing Erik's hand. "I can never thank you enough for keeping us both safe. Oh Angel, I hurt you so badly, and you still protect me as you always did," she continued. "I do not deserve your loyalty and friendship." Erik was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable. He did not want to discuss the past right now. For whatever Christine seemed to think, all that had happened then had been his fault.

He looked at Christine, at her smiling face. How on earth could she be glad to see him again, after all he had done to her? He had lied to her, tried to manipulate her, even abducted her, threatened her fiancé and tried to force her to marry him, yet here she was, smiling at him, holding his hand and thanking him for rescuing her. Oh, how pretty she was, her beautiful eyes shining with unshed tears, her dark curls framing her pale face. How he ached to take her into his arms and to gently rock her and tell her not to fear anything anymore, that he would protect her and be there for her always, because no matter what had happened between them, his love for her had only grown and deepened. But Erik had learned his lesson. He was not going to repeat his previous mistakes. He would not drive Christine away again with his passion and his desire. He wanted her friendship. He needed her friendship, the chance to see her on a fairly regular basis and a certain right to spoil her. Now that she had entered his life again, he would do his best not to lose her again.

He changed the subject. "Are you certain, your baby is fine?" he asked. He did not really care about the Vicomte's brat, the mere thought of what had to have happened between de Chagny and Christine for her to be with child made him sick with jealousy, but he knew that Christine was looking forward to the baby, and he was also aware, that should something be wrong with the little one due to the attack she had been through, Christine's life would be in danger as well. Christine nodded, smiling. "My little one is fine. It is kicking me quite strongly," she told him. "Here, feel for yourself!" She suddenly placed Erik's hand, which she still had been holding, on her belly, so that he could feel the baby's movements. Erik stiffened. He would never have dared touching her in such an intimate way, and she not only allowed it, she almost forced him to do it! Did she not know what she was doing? Did she not realize what kind of desires she was reawakening in him with such an open display of intimacy? Did she not realize how much it cost him not to take her into his arms and kiss her as passionately as she had kissed him that night?

Erik pulled his hand from her belly and stood. Christine suddenly realized her fault. She felt awkward. How could she have forgotten? For her, he had always been her Angel, her teacher, her best friend. But he was not really an angel. He was a man, a real flesh and blood person. And he was in love with her. By allowing him to touch her belly, she had basically encouraged him, given him permission to indulge in intimacies. She blushed. What would he think of her? He had done what every gentleman would do – he had broken the physical contact and put some distance between them. Christine glanced at him. She saw his jaw clench and realized that he was trying hard to compose himself.

"I am sorry, Angel," she murmured miserably. "I… I do not know what I was thinking. I am aware that my behavior was very inappropriate. Please forgive me for causing you discomfort." Her contrite tone helped Erik regain his composure. He remembered that he had planned not to frighten her anymore with the intensity of his love and passion for her. He nodded quietly. "You are tired," he said, using her exhaustion to explain away her behavior. "You need rest. Try to sleep, Christine." Christine suddenly remembered how tired she was. Sleep definitely seemed like a good idea. She lay down comfortably on his cloak. Then she looked up at her Angel. "Will you sing for me?" she asked him. Erik gasped. That request was about the last thing he had expected from her. "I don't know," he said hesitantly. "I am out of practice. I have not sung since…" He did not finish the sentence. Christine understood him anyway. Since "Don Juan Triumphant". She looked up at him. "Me neither," she whispered. "Not since that night."

She suddenly realized that she had missed music in her life with Raoul, but at first she had been too traumatized to sing, and then she had tried to block any memory of her Angel from her mind, and since music would have brought back those memories she had never again considered singing. Of course it would not have been appropriate for a Vicomtesse anyway.

But she had been mistaken and there was no need to block those memories anymore. Her Angel was not dead, and he apparently had forgiven her. He was back in her life, protecting her, watching over her. To her utter surprise she had to admit to herself that she had missed him just as much as she had missed music. She wondered, would her life as a Vicomtesse have been easier for her, if she had known he was alive, if she could have seen him every now and then? She suddenly had a feeling that he would have understood her problems, that with a reliable, trusted friend like him, she might not have taken the nobility's attitude towards her quite as hard. If she had known he was alive, she also would not have given up on music. But it was not too late yet, she could take up music again. After all, she had her teacher back.

She looked up at Erik. "Please, Angel," she pleaded. "I have missed music so much. I promise, I will be good and rest, if you sing for me." Another thought struck her. "And for my baby. Imagine this, child of an opera diva and grand-child of a famous violinist, and during the eight months of my pregnancy so far, the little one has not yet been exposed to any music!" Erik had to smile. That was indeed atrocious. As a descendant of the Daaé-family Christine's child would probably inherit some understanding of music and interest in it. To withhold music from a music-lover was pretty cruel in Erik's opinion. Music had always been a part of him, with his music he could express all his feelings, music helped him to deal with his anger, with his unfulfilled passion and desire, music had been his way of expressing his love and tenderness to Christine. But he had had no desire for music since that night. Of course, at first he had been far too ill to think of music, but even once he had recovered, he had not touched an instrument or sung one single note. Without his muse, music had lost its appeal. But Christine was back in his life, and she wanted him to sing for her, and suddenly he realized, that he had missed music almost as much as he had missed her.

He was out of practice, of course, but he was not going to sing any technically challenging arias, and he could certainly master a simple lullaby. Erik sat down next to Christine. A rare smile played across the unmasked part of his face. "Then it is about time, your baby gets introduced to music," he said. Then he began to sing, at first a bit uncertain, but gaining more and more confidence. His voice had not lost any of its qualities despite his lack of training. Christine recognized the song. It was a simple Swedish folk-song, that she particularly loved and that he had sung for her often when she was still a little girl, long before he had started training her own voice, and long before he had fallen in love with her. She understood his intention. By choosing this particular song, he was trying to tell her that things between them could once again be as they had been those many years ago, with him to watch over her, as her friend and protector, her Angel of Music, her guide and guardian. Christine relaxed. She had not felt so safe and protected in a long time. She closed her eyes and finally fell asleep.