A/N Chapter Seven! Married life! Gossip! Jealousy! Nightmares! Too much caffeine!

We didn't leave the lair for three days. We wanted to make it an entire week, but both common sense and the upcoming performance made it impossible. So four days after becoming a married woman, I returned to the opera house.

"Where've you been?" my fellow actors asked me.

I gave them all a grin. "Oh, you know. Busy."

Of course the fact I was married didn't help my stage fright. Before and after every performance was still a nightmare of nerves. But I was famous, and people were noticing me. Especially the men.

"You are a beautiful young woman," Mme. Giry told me, after I'd hidden in her office from some admirers. "There's nothing you can do about it."

"Yes, well, it's got to stop. He came this close to strangling someone the other day who wouldn't take no for an answer."

"And I would have, too," Erik grumbled, appearing from the wall, phantom-like. "You are mine."

"I know that. They don't." I kissed him lightly.

"You should've thought of that before you made her marry a ghost," Mme. Giry said, rolling her eyes. "Now you will just have to endure the jealousy."

Erik scowled.

He was going to have to do something about all those potential suitors. Everyone wanted to have dinner with the Opera Populaire's newest star, and it was, honestly, driving Erik mad. So one day, after a performance when Nicole was trying to get through her crush of fans, he did what he did best. Something dramatic.

"STAY AWAY FROM MY SOPRANO!" he bellowed, letting the echoes ring out around nearly the entire opera house.

Everyone froze, and Nicole turned pale. "What-" she started.

"DO NOT DARE DISRUPT THE PURITY OF THE MUSIC," Erik continued, in his best commanding tone. "OR YOU WILL FACE THE WRATH OF THE OPERA GHOST."

He watched in satisfaction as people began to murmur quietly, fear on their faces. "Who's there?" one of the braver men asked.

"GO!" the Phantom bellowed.

The masses fled, the ballet rats were marched away by Mme. Giry, and the rest of the actors stared uneasily at Nicole. She stared back at them, white as a sheet. "I don't," she started, "I, I'm, good night." She fled to her room.

I closed the door and locked it behind me. "Erik!" I yelled. "I'm going to KILL you!"

He appeared from behind the mirror, smiling innocently. "Yes dearest?"

I slapped his arm. "What was that about?"

"You were uncomfortable," he said persuasively. "Now no one will bother you."

"Uh-huh." I raised an eyebrow at him teasingly. "So you aren't insanely jealous?"

"Well, that too," he said, catching me around the waist and kissing me lightly. "You are mine, and now everyone knows it."

"I ought to be annoyed that you've laid claim to me," I said, and leaned in to whisper in his ear. "But, it's actually kind of hot."

He honest-to-goodness blushed. "Well," he stuttered.

I smirked. "What do you think people are going to say? Just think about all the rumors."

He shrugged. "Let them talk."

We spent the night in my room, in case anyone took it into their head to check on me after the phantom scare.

Mme. Giry came to my room early. "Nicole?" she asked, knocking lightly on the door.

I groaned and sat up as Erik fled through the mirror. "Madame Giry," I said, pulling on a robe as I opened the door.

"Madame," she replied, smiling at me knowingly. "Are you alone?"

"More or less."

"Erik."

He came out of the secret passage reluctantly. "Yes?"

"Do you know what you've done with that little stunt last night?" she asked. "Do you know what people are saying?"

"What?"

Now that I was awake, I noticed his rumpled appearance and his adorable case of bed head. I stifled a giggle at Mme. Giry's glance. This must be actually serious.

"They are saying that she is your mistress, that she slept her way into the lead soprano position. That you are obsessed with her, that you would kill anyone getting close to her."

"Well they're not wrong," Erik mused.

I glared at him. "Excuse me?"

"Except the first one," he said hastily. "You earned that lead."

"I know I did," I said. "They ought to know it too."

"But they will say anything," Mme. Giry reminded us. "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know," Erik admitted.

I sighed. "Well, there goes my reputation."

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "I truly am sorry."

"I know."

We stood there in silence for a moment, thinking, and I wondered what they would think if they knew I was actually married to him. I started to grin. "What if…"

"What?"

"What if we actually told them the truth? Exaggerated it a bit, but let them know?"

"How do you mean?" Mme. Giry asked.

"Well we could tell them yes, that as soon as I came here, the phantom noticed me. He dragged me down to the lair, seduced me with his music and his voice. That he became obsessed with fine-tuning my talents. I could tell them of your genius, your music, your true self, your phantom talents. That you helped me conquer my stage fright. They know I'm a basket case anyway, yet I can perform. I can tell them that yes, we were married, and that you're insanely jealous, that I'm madly in love with you."

"And it is implied that you can control him," Mme. Giry said, "placate him. And that you are untouchable, because he is always watching."

"Absolute control," I agreed.

Erik kissed me lightly. "You are a true genius, my love."

I grinned. "I know."

Mme. Giry left, then, and I got ready for the day. Well, I tried to. Erik was distracting me. "I have to go to work you know," I said, trying to pull away from him.

"I know," he said, stepping close again and pressing a kiss to my neck. "But you don't have to go right this minute."

"I want breakfast," I said, stepping back again.

He pouted at me.

I smirked. "You know it's going to be really hard to tell people you're mysterious if you're being cute."

He raised an eyebrow and threw his voice to come from behind me. "I can be mysterious, if you'd like."

I shivered. "No thank you." I gave him a light kiss and headed for the door. "See you later."

Erik followed from the shadows as Nicole headed for the dining hall. He noticed with a scowl that as soon as she entered, people began whispering and making faces.

She noticed too, and took the initiative by tapping on a water glass. "Excuse me!" she called, silencing the gossipers. "I'd like to say now, while most everyone is here, that yes, I am acquainted with the Opera Ghost."

Everyone stared at her.

"How?" someone asked, one of the stagehands.

So right there, Nicole began to spin her tale of intrigue and obsession. Erik was impressed with her storytelling skills, and he noticed that the entire crowd in the dining room was practically eating out of the palm of her hand.

"Is he a monster? Does he even have a face?"

"Yes. One half is beautiful and unmarked, the other is scarred and deformed from birth. But he is quite handsome in his own way."

"How did you escape his lair to come up here?" someone asked.

"I haven't," Nicole replied mysteriously. "Every night he brings me back down. You see, I married him. I belong to him, now." She held up her ring on the necklace.

Everyone gasped. "So you know the way down to his lair?" another stage hand asked.

She shook her head. "He hypnotizes me with his voice - I don't know any of the secret passages. He is just as much as a ghost to me as to you."

"But is he a good kisser?" asked one of the more liberal ballet rats.

Nicole grinned and her eyes glazed over. "Yes," she said dreamily. "He is quite a good kisser."

In the shadows, Erik turned red.

"It's remarkable how soon a tale can go from horrific to romantic," I mused that evening. "Yesterday it was all 'he's a monster she's a loose woman,' and now they're all 'he's a misunderstood genius and she's a captivated soul, isn't it beautiful'."

Erik smiled and kissed me lightly. "Not to mention that ticket sales have gone through the roof. The managers are calling you the Phantom's Soprano."

"I like a good title," I said, grinning. "And, no more annoying suitors."

He kissed me again. "That, I believe, is the best part."

The next day was Monday, and since the entire opera house had the day off, Erik stole me away for a day in the countryside. He 'borrowed' a carriage from the stables, and I packed a picnic. We stopped under a large oak tree, and spread out a blanket to enjoy our lunch. I made him take off his mask, to get the fresh air on his face. We ate, and then took a nap together, my head on his shoulder. It wasn't really sleeping; it was more like a light doze.

"Nicole?" the soft whisper made me open my eyes and look up at him.

"Yes dear?" I asked, sitting up.

"It's time to be heading back, don't you think?"

"I suppose," I said. I touched his scarred cheek lightly. "You know your face actually looks much better."

He raised an eyebrow at me, his hand coming up to cover his face out of habit.

I pushed it down again gently, tracing the lines and the bumps. "I think it's all the exposure to fresh air and light," I continued, placing a kiss on his cheek. "It's healing, finally, instead of being rubbed raw by your mask. You ought to wear it less."

He still looked terribly vulnerable, so I handed him the mask and helped him smooth his hair. "Thank you," he said softly, and I knew he wasn't talking about the mask.

"Filthy monster!" The man in his dreams started to beat him at the sight of his face. "You should have died at birth!"

Erik cringed away, trying to curl up into a ball, hiding his face. He could hear the others jeering at him from outside the filthy cage, and felt rage boil up inside him. With a feral growl, he launched himself at the man, punching and kicking, screaming at him. He managed to grab onto his throat and squeezed, his eyes growing dark as he watched the man go limp.

It was two in the morning when Erik began to twitch and mutter in his sleep. I recognized the signs of a nightmare and reached over to tap him on the shoulder. "Erik?"

He jerked away from me violently and curled up into a little ball, whimpering.

I felt my heart break at the sight, and rubbed his back lightly. "Erik, wake up. It's only a dream."

Suddenly he turned on me, eyes wide open but unseeing, and he grabbed my throat in his powerful hands. He growled something at me unintelligibly and I scrabbled for purchase against his grip. "Erik!" I choked out, terrified. "Erik wake up!"

He squeezed tighter and I felt my vision going fuzzy. I was going to pass out, I couldn't push him away.

"Erik, please," I begged, tears running down my cheeks as I ran out of air.

Suddenly he gasped and his eyes truly registered what he was seeing. He let go of me like I'd burned him, and I gasped for air. I turned over on my side and tried to catch my breath, going dizzy from the sweet oxygen as the specks faded from my eyes.

He retreated all the way across the bed, staring at me in horror.

I fell back onto the pillows, still breathing heavily. "Erik, are you all right?" I asked, noticing he hadn't moved at all.

He couldn't even meet my eyes.

I scooted closer to him. "Erik?"

"No," he said, moving further away from me. "Stay away from me, I'm dangerous."

"Erik, I'm fine," I said, reaching out to touch his arm.

"No you're not," he said, his voice breaking. "I hurt you."

"You were dreaming, it's all right," I said soothingly.

"No, it's not," he said, self-loathing filling his face. "You, you should go back up to your room." He practically ran out of the room.

I pulled my knees up to my chest, still shaky. I wiped the tears from my cheeks but they kept coming down. I had never had direct experience with his nightmares before, he hadn't had any since we'd been married. And now it was like he didn't even want to be comforted. I took a deep breath, trying to clear my head. No. Erik was just trying to protect me, and pushing people away was his immediate response. I realized, now, that he most definitely had PTSD, the result of his traumatic life.

I got off the bed and headed out of the room, looking for him. I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror and stopped to stare at myself. Two perfect hand imprints in my neck, already bruising slightly purple. "Ow," I whispered, touching the bruises lightly. They went all the way around my neck.

That's when I heard muffled sobbing, and my heart broke as I found Erik huddled in one of the darker corners, hands covering his face in shame. "I'm sorry," he sobbed, turning away from me.

I put my hands on his shoulders gently. "It's all right, Erik. I forgive you." I rubbed his shoulders lightly. "It's okay, love. It was just a nightmare." I knelt down in front of him, trying to get him to look at me.

"That's no excuse," he said bitterly. "I'm a-"

I clapped a hand over his mouth. "Don't even say it," I warned him. "Don't do that to yourself. You are not a monster, Erik. You're a man who's been mistreated and neglected until now. You've been through the war of life, Erik, and you have PTSD. But I still love you. I promise."

He glared at me with tear-glazed eyes and broke down. I wrapped my arms around him and held his head to my chest as he sobbed, clutching on to me like a lifeline. I think it was the first time in his life he allowed himself to cry for his own sake, and so I let him cry. I tried to be strong, for him, but I couldn't help crying as well.

Finally, he ran out of tears, or energy, or both, and I kissed his cheek lightly. "Come back to bed, love," I coaxed, standing up and pulling him to his feet. "Come on."

He let himself be led to the bed and be tucked in like a child, and closed his eyes as Nicole kissed his forehead.

"There," she said softly. "Let me go make us a cup of tea." She stood to go make it.

He was seized by irrational panic that she wouldn't come back, and grabbed her wrist gently. "No, don't go. Don't leave me alone," he pleaded.

She smiled at him gently and lay down beside him. "I'm not going anywhere," she promised. "Just rest."

"Sing for me?" he asked, unable to take the silence of the cave.

I sat up and let him put his head on my lap. "Let's see," I said, running my fingers through his hair, trying to think of an appropriate song. I remembered the song mom used to sing to me when I'd had a nightmare. I smiled fondly. "Ah, Mary Poppins."

"Who?" Erik asked sleepily.

"Shhh." I leaned over to kiss him lightly and started to sing the lullaby from Mary Poppins.

He fell asleep before I finished the song, just like the kids in the movie, his exhaustion dragging him down into slumber.

I petted his hair for a while, relaxing after the emotionally charged episode, and finally slipped down to lay beside him again.

There were no more nightmares that night, and when he woke up in the morning he gave me a bashful smile.

"Thank you," he said, drawing me into a loving embrace. "No one has ever been there for me before."

"It's easier when someone's there to hold you afterwards, isn't it?" I agreed. "My mom was good at that."

"And you inherited her talents," he said, kissing me lightly.

I winced slightly as his hand touched one of the bruises.

He stopped, and really took a good look at the bruises on my neck. His eyes started to fill with self-loathing again, but before he could say anything I cut him off with a firm kiss.

"Next time I'll just throw a glass of water on you from afar," I said, pulling away from him. "This was an accident, and it won't happen again. Agreed?"

"Agreed," he said, his gaze still remorseful. He touched my cheek lightly. "You took care of me. Let me take care of you."

He put lavender oil and arnica on her bruises, and after making breakfast for the two of them he soaked a towel in boiled herbs and wrapped it around her neck to ease them into her skin.

"Do you need anything?" he asked, once he'd established her on the couch with a cup of tea and a book.

"A TV show," she replied wistfully. "I could kill for a cheesy sitcom."

He shook his head. "I've known you all my life and I still don't know half the things you speak of."

She smirked at him. "You're not missing anything important."

I stayed below for two more days before the bruising turned a pale yellow, enough to hide it with makeup. Nobody noticed the bruising, though several people were making insinuations about what exactly I was doing for two days with the Phantom.

"I was helping him make plans to set gossip mongers on fire," I snapped finally.

They left me alone after that.