A/N: You guys are crazy! I understand that the last chapter made people want to Punjab me. I'm sorry. I promise, it will only happen a couple more times… (Looks around nervously). Giggle. HAHA! GUESS WHAT! I SAW POTO ON BROADWAY! IT WAS THE BEST 3 HOURS OF MY LIFE!

Disclaimer: the roses are red…and the violets are blue…and they don't own Phantom of the Opera either

Chapter 10: Husband

Even after he left, his dark presence still lingered in the small room. I could hardly convince myself that the calloused man that stood before me only moments ago was the same man whose gentle manner and soothing voice had filled the void my father had left, masquerading as my Angel of Music. It was hours before another sound came from the closed door, and when it came, I nearly jumped out of my skin.

BANG BANG BANG! The door quaked on its hinges.

"Hello in there! Oy, open this door!"

I padded softly over to the abrupt racket and pulled the door slightly ajar. A foul looking man with yellow teeth was presented to me. He pushed his face close to the opening and when he spoke, the sour odor of decay drifted from his lips.

"You've only paid for one day's board and it's now been several hours into the next!"

"Pardon?"

"You heard me right. Now pack your things unless you want to give me another day's rent!"

I looked back around into the room and spotted my purse in its spot on the foot of the bed. Darting back to reach it, I searched hastily for the black wallet. He took it with him…

"You want to hurry it up?"

I stared down at the two pitiful francs.

"Well, you see sir, I…do you think you might give me a bit of time? You see my…er…husband… has gone out for a bit. He'll be back within a few hours, though."

"I don't have a few hours! Now for the last time, pay up or get out of my inn!"

Just then, a dark shadow befell him and spoke to him in the coldest of manners.

"You dare to shout at my wife?"

"Monsieur," the man's voice changed drastically in tone. "I-I was just informing the lady of your needing to leave unless you pay another day's fee. -- Sir."

"Well, dearest wife, did you inform the kind man of our planned departure?"

"She didn't Monsieur, but I—"

"Then what gives you the liberty to speak in such a way to a paying customer?"

He retrieved the black wallet from inside his trench coat and dropped several coins into the inn-keeper's palm.

"We will leave within the hour, but do not mention my name to anyone if you know what's good for you."

"Yes, Monsieur Firmin. Not a word." With that, the innkeeper hurried back down the hall.

I hastily moved back from the door as it swung open and he calmly walked in.

"Ah, I see you've dressed. It's a good thing, wife," He cast a sly look my way, but I averted my eyes,"since we'll need to leave at once."

"Where are we going?"

He stopped packing and focused his attention to where I was leaning against the wall.

"You're going home. Now the rat, Firmin, only had 400 francs in his wallet so I could only manage to purchase—"

"You're turning me in?"

He stopped once more. "You didn't actually think I was going to kidnap you with your husband and the authorities probably searching all of Europe for Madame de Changy—"

"No."

"Pardon?"

"I'm not going." The questions I would have to answer if I were to return rang in my mind. "Where were you Christine?" "Why did you run away?" "You let everyone down!" "Isn't Raoul good enough?"

His eyes turned cold at my refusal. "And why not? You couldn't possibly want to…wait." His voice trailed off abruptly and his hard glare took on a murderous edge. "What did he do to you? What has he done!"

"I don't understand." My cheeks flooded with heat. Wonderful, darling, now you'll have to explain your little escapade.

He dropped everything and advanced threateningly towards me. "Don't play games with me. You board a train to Sweden soaking wet with nothing but an empty purse and a change of clothes which hardly lets me believe you are on a private vacation. Then you almost get yourself killed and refuse a train home. Now tell me, what did that mangy son-of-a-bitch do to you!"

Mere inches from my face, my breath came out in shudders. "All Raoul has ever done is love me." Almost…

He huffed and went back to packing, stuffing everything into a leather sack.

"Well then, if you don't mind, we should get going. You have a train to catch."

He swung the sack over his shoulder and opened the door.

"Wait ange- I mean, phan…er..." You've known him all your life and you don't know his name? "Well. You never mentioned your real name." I spat.

He shot a heated look at me and continued out the door. What? No. Wait! Where are you going? I rushed to the doorway as I watched him pace down the hallway. He slowed to a stop and lowered his head. After a deep breath, he turned to look me square in the eye.

"It's Erik. My real name…is Erik." He donned a top hat, turned and continued down the hallway.

Erik…my angel has a name.

I looked around the room and made sure there was nothing I was forgetting. Then I closed the door behind me, and walked quickly to where he had disappeared around the corner.

It wasn't until I had descended a flight of stairs that my eyes found him again. He was handing a little gold key back to the woman at the front desk who was eyeing him warily. With a quick glance to me, he walked out the door of the inn. The door jingled as it shut behind me and I watched him… the Phantom which now seemed lost within this 'Erik', pace hastily out onto the cobbles. I scurried childishly behind him, keeping a good five foot radius. His eyes would occasionally swivel back, which was the only way I knew he had knowledge of my presence.

The only ones who noticed us were the shop-keepers out early for their morning routines and even they were too busy to pay mind to the strange couple navigating the alleys. He kept his top hat low over his eyes and the collar of his coat high around his neck. The owner of his slightly over-sized garments was no longer living. This chilled me and I extended my distance about a foot. Poor Firmin never deserved that.

A dull ache began to settle in my legs, but he showed no signs of slowing. I opened my mouth to tell him to slow down, when a gloved hand came up before my face. He peeked around a corner and waved me over. The bustling Gothenburg station situated next to a harbor came into view and I backed into the alley.

"No!"

"Yes."

"You won't make me." I backed and shook my head in violent protest.

"Won't I?"

His arm snaked around my back and shoved me out into the busy station."Here's six francs! Now go home, your husband will—"

"He's not my husband!"

The fire in his eyes was snuffed and an unreadable expression covered his features.

"I never married Raoul!" I paused and lowered to a rational tone. "It was a wedding dress I wore on the train."

I searched his face for some kind of emotion but found none, or rather, too many to name. His arm dropped back down to his side and his breathing slowed to a steady pace. I lifted my left hand for further proof but he needed none. Instead his gaze turned to the street behind me. His eyes widened and I was tugged back behind him.

"Looks like the Vicomte thinks otherwise."