McKenna – I am not a fan of arranged marriages EITHER! This is for you! Here comes Erik to the rescue! BTW I don't know much at all about the transportation then, or how people managed to get places so bare with me... haha

Erik sat in the train compartment looking out the window. It was so strange. He got out every now and then to spend some of the 20 thousand francs. But he never travelled anywhere; he was always in Paris- and Paris alone. But now, he was going all the way to Sweden, and that was his fiancé's home, where she was born and where she spent most of her childhood. There was a knock on his door, and he clutched his sword, which was at his side and would remain there for the whole of the trip.

"Who is it?" He questioned.

"Porter! I have come to check your ticket!" A rather high-pitched male voice shouted.

"You may enter." Erik said. The porter came in and punched his ticket. Then he paused, before leaving.

"Going to a masquerade?" He asked, sniggering. Erik glared in response, which was a good hint that the porter should leave.

The ride seemed to take forever, and Erik did not sleep a wink. But when they arrived he was ready to face whatever befell him. He was now very glad that Christine had a famous father, for it would be easy for her to find where he lived. That was where her great-grand mother lived, and to keep things in the family, most likely where Christine would live with this adopted son. Erik clenched his teeth at the thought of this man who was trying to take his Christine from him. He held on to his address for where Gustave Daaé lived, and after taking a few cabs, and arrived at a grand old house which sat at the edge of the city on the sea. He stood, looking up at the huge villa thinking about how Christine would have so many memories from this place.

"Perhaps, I should let her be. Perhaps- this is where she truly needs to be." He thought. "NO! What am I thinking? She belongs to me!" He then wanted to hurt himself for being so possessive; it was his possessiveness of her that got him into many messes before. Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive. Erik was done with deceiving. All he needed to do was to find his Christine.

He walked up the marble staircase and peered in the huge windows on either side of the large dark wooden door. He saw a beautiful entrance; but no one was in there. He went ant pulled the large golden tassel which would ring the bell. A petite scullery maid answered.

"Sir?" She said.

"I am here to see Christine Daaé." He said. He gazed at the small lady, his emeralds piercing into her doe eyes. She was entranced, of course, and almost hypnotized. She would not send him away if she wanted to. She opened the door widely, letting him enter.

"You may wait in there," She said slowly, gesturing towards a pretty parlour with two more huge windows that made the room wonderfully bright. How lovely the summers were in Sweden. After waiting a few moments, he heard a man's footsteps coming down the stairs in a slow pace. He put his hand on his sword. He sat on a sofa that was not facing the entry way and he did not turn around.

"You have come for Christine? Who are you?" A snooty male voice said. Erik stood up still facing away from the man; his genius mind at work.

"You are her fiancé, I presume?" Erik asked in a sly tone.

"No. I am her husband, Terry Michelson." Erik's heart almost stopped. "Now, answer me, sir. Who are you? What business have you with my new bride. Erik began to pull his sword out of his belt. He wanted to kill the man. He already married Christine? His Christine? This would not do. But he stopped himself before pulling the sword out remembering his dear Christine. She would not wish for violence. So his brilliant mind created a plan. Finally, he turned to face the enemy. He was a tall, slim man; almost stick thin. And he had nice curly blond hair and a long mustache. Erik had seen the type before. He was a snob.

"I am Christine's doctor." Erik lied.

"Doctor? Did she call for you? Is she sick?"

"No, she did not call for me. Yes, is sick. I was asked by the bedlum in Paris to... take care of her, shall we say?" Terry pondered his words.

"Bedlum?" He repeated, suddenly in a fright. "You mean...?"

"Yes, dear Miss. Daaé is struggling with her brain. They told me to come collect her before she does something rash."

"She is a bit odd." Terry said. Erik wanted to punch him. "Well, quickly, if you must! See that she gets help! I will sign for a divorce immediately." Erik was happy, but he couldn't believe what a scum bag this man was, just because she was insane, he would divorce her. Why, Erik would marry her no matter in what state of mind she was in! Terry ran up to his room.

He returned holding a confused Christine. Erik gasped, and he wanted to rush into her arms, but he had to remain in character. Christine gasped as well.

"Erik!" She said.

"She, knows your name?" Terry asked suspiciously.

"She... has met me before. My name is not Erik, she believes me to be her deceased brother." Erik covered for her quickly. His eyes signed for her to play along.

"Oh, I see." Terry said, shoving her towards Erik. "Well, good luck with her. I'll send my lawyer with the papers tomorrow." Erik nodded once, and gripped Christine, as if she were ill and took her out side.

"Thank you, Monsieur Michelson." Erik said, and they exited. He then continued to grip Christine, until they turned a corner where they could no longer be spotted by anyone in her father's old residence.

"Erik! Oh, Erik! You came for me!" She said; her arms around him clutching him tightly. He kissed her hair and her neck passionately.

"My dear Christine! I could never live without you!" He said. And their lips met. He scooped her up in his arms; their lips still locked. Then they broke apart for air.

"Now, we can start a new life together, my hero!" Christine said.

"And I shall love every moment, dear damsel!" He replied, and they pressed their lips together again.

The End