Not much to say today! I could whinge for a great deal about the harrowing experience that is trying to find a new doctor, but instead I shall just let Erik and Christine have the floor.

Onward!

XXXVI

Both were quiet as they made their way back to the main part of Erik's home, lost in their own thoughts and troubles. Christine wasn't even certain of where to begin, but whenever she thought of something to ask, one look at Erik's grim expression kept her silent.

She remembered the sweetness of their date and Erik's excitement for her to sing, and she dearly wished she could have at least given him that before all this unpleasantness had started. But her throat felt tight and strained and she was dangerously close to tears, and she doubted Erik would be very impressed with a croaked rendition of something meant for beauty.

Boo glanced up at their approach, stretching amiably before hurrying closer, Christine scooping him up before he could escape to the lake beyond. She kissed him and held him close, walking back toward the sofa and sitting down wearily, his warm body a comforting presence against her. "Would you miss me if I went to prison?" she asked him mournfully, golden eyes blinking back at her before he began to wriggle, evidently quite finished with her clutching.

She released him with a sigh, only to find Erik staring at her from across the doorway, making no move even as Boo twined about his legs, rubbing his head against the dark pant legs.

"Do you truly think I would allow such a thing to happen?"

Christine shrugged and grabbed a pillow, a poor replacement for Boo, but she needed something to hold. "You went," she reminded him.

Erik shook his head and disappeared toward the kitchen, leaving her with her thoughts as Boo and his traitorous stomach scampered after him.

Christine wanted more pleasant moments, for her to explore Erik and their fledgling love, with dates and gentle words as they learned about one another. But they seemed doomed for difficulties, and she hated it.

She leaned her head back against the couch cushions and closed her eyes, praying for simpler times or even for sleep to take her, just so that her thoughts could turn from the whirl of worry that seemed determined to plague her.

Her eyes fluttered open at Erik's approach, and to her surprise he came holding two mugs, one significantly smaller than the other, the larger of which he placed on a coaster closest to her. "I am told that it helps when discussing unpleasant matters."

"Oh," she murmured, her voice hitching as she stared at the contents of the mug, the melting marshmallows floating amongst a sea of liquid chocolate, tears coming unbidden to her eyes.

For even with the prospect of legal woes before her, she knew then, much as she ever had, that he was worth it.

Erik was worth it.

And they could work out the rest together.

She pushed the pillow away and took hold of her cup, taking a sip and allowing the warmth to soothe her, hoping that Erik hadn't noticed her tears. But from the way he watched her, his gaze so careful and attentive, she doubted he missed them.

The flavor was different than the mixture she had concocted for him, somehow richer and less cloying, with an undertone she couldn't quite place.

Her brow furrowed and she swirled the contents gently, though she doubted they would reveal their secrets through any such coaxing.

"Is it to your satisfaction?"

Christine smiled at him, a thin thing but genuine. "It's delicious, but I can't quite tell what you've done with it."

Erik's eyes glittered and he took a sip from his own mug, and she noticed that his only held a single marshmallow—enough to assuage her previous insistence at their presence, but not enough to making sipping difficult. "You've suffered quite a shock, I thought that a humble dosage of spirits would not be unwelcome."

Christine spluttered and suddenly held the mug away from her, eying it with new suspicion. "You..."

"Calm yourself, Christine, it is very mild. And you are above age, are you not?"

She huffed at that. "Well, yes..."

"Then I fail to see the problem, as you already have claimed to appreciate the taste."

Christine drew her bottom lip into her mouth, her tongue swiping over the lingering flavor, considering. The issue of alcohol was not one that she had given a great deal of thought to. Her birthday had come and gone, and though there was a vague awareness that there were now privileges that could be hers if she'd wanted them, she hadn't the money to begin experimenting with new beverages.

And her papa had been killed by a drunk driver...

But she wasn't driving anywhere, was simply home with her... with Erik, and he couldn't possibly have put so very much into her mug to have made drinking it dangerous.

Not when he was so very careful with her.

She took another trusting sip and relished the warm feeling as it settled in her belly, and she relaxed back into the cushions. "Why do you think Mr. Chagny wasn't wearing a tie?"

Erik's eyes narrowed and he looked at her shrewdly. "Disappointed?"

She gave him an exasperated glare. "We're not going to quarrel about him again are we?"

Erik sniffed, but ignored her. "If I was forced to guess, I would say that the Daroga counseled him against wearing anything that might draw my mind to more... gruesome pursuits."

Christine blinked at him, not at all understanding his meaning.

"Strangulation," Erik clarified patiently.

"What? He... he would have told him not to wear a tie just in case you decided to... to what? Strangle him in front of me with it?"

Erik shrugged and took another sip of his concoction. "It would not be unusual for him to suggest others use such precautions."

Christine's indignation rose. "And do you typically have unrestrained urges to strangle people?"

Erik smirked. "Most people do not suddenly appear in my music room, interrupting precious time with my Christine."

Christine didn't know how to react to such a statement. A part of her was flattered that he would value her company so highly, but the other part shivered, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach. He had never fully answered her regarding what had happened with Mr. Buquet, his insistence that Erik had tried to strangle him up there in the rafters, and for Erik to be so glib about it now...

Erik continued to stare, but this time he shook his head. "I would not have forced you to witness such a thing, my dear, no matter my personal feelings on the subject."

But that was not the same thing as not doing it at all.

Christine swallowed, forcing away the lump that had settled there as she diverted her thoughts to other things, not wanting to dwell on Erik's dubious view of human life. She could love him, even understand his perspective on such things and how he had formed his low opinions of people in general, but it still disturbed her to see it so evidenced.

"What are we going to do, Erik?" she finally asked, her tone almost pleading. She wanted him to make this whole messy business disappear, to hide it away and promise her that things would be well.

And most importantly, that she would not lose him in the process.

Yet despite the heavy nature of the subject, Erik seemed to preen at her use of we, and she found that she rather liked the thought of that also.

"They are simply investigating. It is always an embarrassment to the police department when a case is overturned and their methods questioned, so they are attempting to be thorough."

Christine nibbled at her lip, still finding the sweetness there from Erik's carefully made hot chocolate. "But they won't find me at my apartment, and that'll be suspicious."

"True," Erik relented, "though I believe it is your sudden disappearance from your place of work that would concern them more. It was very naughty of you to not have given proper notice."

Christine's mouth dropped open, fully ready to protest his trespass on her character when it was of course he that made it impossible for her to continue there. But then she saw the tightness about his mouth, the way he was suddenly glancing away from her, and she saw his clumsy attempt at humor for what it was.

Guilt.

He had brought her into this, had blustered and pressed and taunted his way through a mock trial into mutual confession, and now there was the potential that she would be the one to pay the price for his own doing.

How that must weigh on him.

Christine set her mug back upon its coaster and took his free hand between hers, not entirely certain of what she wished to say. It was his fault and there was no point in denying it. If he had not been so hasty, had found another way—one safer and could at least fall within a semblance of legality—then they could have continued as they were.

But he hadn't.

And she had not begged him to.

For she was coming to realize that even then, when their accord was so very new, if she had asked it of him—had truly and earnestly asked it of him—he would have found another way.

But it was a foolish thing to simply think of what might have been when they needed to plan for now.

A thought niggled at her mind, a snippet of law from she knew not where, that might at least have the potential to help them…

Even if she didn't think herself prepared for its inaction.

She swallowed and rubbed at Erik's hand with her thumb, considering. He was the one with the brilliant mind, and she would seem awkward and silly for mentioning it if she was mistaken on how things truly worked. But if it helped…

"Erik," she began carefully, her blush already rising even as she considered it. "Is it… is it true that married people can't be forced to testify against each other?"

Erik tensed beside her. "Yes," he admitted slowly, and she could feel his gaze heavy upon her even as she continued to stare at their entwined hands, leather against skin. "Why do you ask?"

Christine hesitated but continued. "I know… I know you think this is all your fault, and you want to protect me. But Erik… I meant what I said before. I won't have you sacrificing yourself for me. I won't let you shoulder all of the blame so that I can go on living without you. I'd be miserable if you were locked away and I…" she forced down the tears that stung at her eyes. "I don't want to be all alone again."

She'd have Boo, of course she would, but he was theirs. Hers and Erik's.

"Christine," he comforted, leaning forward to place his own mug down upon a coaster before tucking his hand beneath her chin and bidding her to look at him. "No law of man shall tear me away from you, not when I have secured your love. There was no purpose in fighting my conviction before—my existence was a listless one until you."

She blinked, trying to keep from crying for she knew it would only hurt him more. "But if we were married, then at least if… if things don't go your way, we couldn't… they couldn't make us…"

Erik smiled at her grimly even as his eyes were tender and he stroked her cheek softly. "I cannot adequately describe how it thrills me to hear you speak of our marriage." He learned closer to her, cautiously, waiting for her to move, to show some sign of rejection, before he placed a kiss upon her temple.

It was a soft brush of his lips, but it was enough to send butterflies through her stomach, even as she was dangerously close to sobbing and throwing herself into his arms for comfort.

"But I fear, my sweet Christine, that there is a flaw in your plan. Numerous, in fact."

Christine drew back. He needn't mock her.

"Flaws?"

Erik nodded. "Yes. The first is that unfortunately our marriage license would be commissioned after the date of the… shall we say, our guests' arrivals, and therefore spousal privilege is rather limited in such instances. Some could even argue that we married only for the sake of impeding prosecution, which could be seen as fraudulent and incur even more penalties."

Christine sighed, feeling rather deflated. "Oh."

He did not need to continue as she realized then how foolish her suggestion had been, but Erik coaxed her closer so she was nestled against him, her head against his shoulder. "The second, and most important reason, is that you deserve a far better proposal of marriage. I would not have you accept my offer out of fear—even if that fear is miraculously not of my person. At least," he reflected, glancing down at her, "I am given to believe it is not."

Christine closed her eyes and relished in their shared contact. "It's not," she confirmed. Even if some of the things he said frightened her—of ties and strangling and the impulse to do harm—he treated her so gently, so sweetly, that it was impossible for her to feel anything but safe cocooned as they were in the shelter of his home.

But how secure was it really when a man who was not his friend could so easily penetrate its defenses?

And how long before he managed to do so again now that he knew there was a doorway beyond?

"Does that mean you think about it too sometimes? Us being married?" They had broached the subject before over their squabbles over the use of labels, but she found that she liked the distraction—to dream of pleasant things even in the midst of so much potential unhappiness.

Erik scoffed beside her. "It is impossible to not do so when you are near."

Christine peered up at him, trying to discern his meaning. "Which part?"

Erik stiffened slightly. "Pardon?"

"Which part of marriage do you think about? Just calling me wife, or our wedding or…"

As soon as she thought of it, she already knew the answer, her cheeks flaming, and she suddenly wished to bury her head against his sleeve to hide them from him.

The more intimate aspects to marriage.

Erik was looking at her carefully—warily—as if to discern her reaction from just her silence alone.

And by the way he grimaced it was clear he had reached some kind of conclusion.

"Of course you should find the idea distasteful," Erik murmured, almost more to himself than to her. "Forgive your Erik his foolishness."

Did she?

She had enjoyed his kisses very much, the touch of his fingers sending a host of butterflies a fluttering through her stomach with merely a brush. But she was so very inexperienced, yet…

The idea of it, of being with him…

With her Erik…

It did not repulse her.

If anything the thought of the act itself still left her feeling rather confused. She had not escaped school without the mandated lectures on the subject, but her mortification at the entire process had her studying her blank notebook as she doodled safe pictures, a valiant effort to distract herself from things like condoms and infections, leaving little room for any clarifying questions.

And while she had adored her papa, he had not been the sort that liked to discuss such matters. When he'd first handed her supplies for her menses he'd gone all pink about the ears, stuttering and complaining even as she'd looked at him in confusion. It was nearly another year before she'd even needed them, but when the blood had first come and she'd remembered her father's stumbling assurance that it was all normal and she shouldn't worry, she was ever so grateful for the things he'd purchased that she'd so carelessly stuffed in the back of a cupboard.

But Erik seemed knowledgeable about things. Perhaps not in practice—most assuredly not in practice—but she doubted there was any subject he left unstudied, whether or not he believed he would be fortunate enough to find a wife who would consent to such matters.

She cleared her throat awkwardly, suddenly very aware of what her papa had felt when he'd had to broach such a topic, possibly before its time. But it was better to address things early, rather than wait and allow fears to fester.

"I'm... I most certainly am not repulsed by you or by the... by the idea of... doing that." Her cheeks flushed crimson, and she could not bring herself to look at him.

Christine felt rather than saw the dubious look he gave her, and she quickly interjected before he could spout more nonsense. "And don't you dare say that I cannot. You didn't believe that I could love you but I do, and you do not get to dictate my feelings on these things, Erik, no matter how you might like to!"

During her outburst she'd managed to glance up at him, and he had that shocked and wary look about him that she was coming to know so familiarly.

Well.

If he didn't like the way she thought, then he should have picked someone else to love.

But he hadn't, and now he could not frighten her away with his doubts.

"My apologies, Christine," Erik assured her placatingly. "I would never attempt to influence your feelings."

Christine snorted at his tone as it related mild distaste, but then, what man was not at least a little frightened of his lady's whimsies?

And generally with good reason.

She sobered quickly, however, when she remembered their more urgent discussion, and she sighed deeply. "You've managed to dash my plan to bits, so what have you come up with?"

Erik hesitantly reached for her and plucked at one of her curls, tucking it away and smoothing it as he fussed. "I did not mean to belittle your suggestion, my dear. And selfishly, I would have quite liked to have made you believe it had merit, simply for the sake of you agreeing to become my wife of your own volition."

She wasn't ready. Knew that she wasn't.

But then... what did it even mean, this title of wife?

To belong to one man, to have him be hers in turn, to share his name, to share his home...

None of that seemed so very difficult, or so very different than what she did now— even though she was fairly doubtful over the matter of sharing a name. If the court hadn't been able to locate a last name for him, with all their great resources, was it possible that he simply didn't have one?

But that would mean he had no birth certificate, and she knew that you needed one of those to obtain a marriage license...

Yet surely there was more to marriage than that. She was not so naïve as so think that it would be easy. People got divorced far too frequently for it to be anything but challenging. Ms. Poligny had even proven capable of murder when it came to assuaging her anger with her husband, but as Christine considered her Erik, she could not imagine a time when she could hate him so very much.

And then she blushed again for her thoughts being caught up in the subject of marriage yet again.

"You can ask me someday, if you'd like," she managed to assure him, plucking at her sleeves and avoiding the way his eyes burned into her. "I think that I'd... I'd say yes."

Erik drew in a sharp breath and she peeked at him. There was surprise, yes, and perhaps a little incredulity, but above all, he looked at her so fondly, so tenderly, that it made her heart flutter in response.

"We're not engaged," she informed him firmly, and he nodded quickly. "You said I should have a proper proposal when the time is right, and that isn't now. Not when I might be going to prison."

Erik seemed rather disheartened by that for he sighed deeply. "Christine, you must stop suggesting such things. You are not, and never will be in danger of incarceration."

"You keep saying that, but that doesn't tell me anything! What are we going to do?"

Erik's lips thinned and she realized how shrill and exasperated she'd sounded and she immediately quieted. "I'm sorry," she told him earnestly. "I know you aren't used to having to explain things."

Erik looked at her through narrowed eyes. "No, I am not." He was silent for a long moment and she stamped down her desire to remind him that she was still in ignorance, before he groaned softly. "But that does not mean that I should not make an attempt to do so."

To Christine's surprise, he left the sofa and she watched him disappear down the hallway. If this was his idea of improving upon his prowess as explanation-giver, she very strongly objected. Her right side suddenly felt cold and herself altogether abandoned, and when Boo appeared, two forepaws pressed into the sofa cushion as he peered over the top to ensure his welcome, Christine had no compunctions about helping him into Erik's newly vacated position.

Though she could not contain her laugh when Erik reappeared and stared blankly at Boo as he cuddled up against her thigh.

"You left," she reminded him plainly. "And we evidently have a rogue that likes to take advantage."

"I shall remember that in future," Erik replied drolly, coming to stare down Boo, who cared nothing for the tinge of menace in Erik's gaze.

With a sigh on his part and a giggle on hers, she gestured toward his reading chair. "I think you'll find a way to complain about anything."

Erik merely sniffed indignantly, but did not verbally deny it.

She noticed then the legal pad he held within his hands, and as he settled himself in his chair, he handed it to her, the papers carefully flipped to reveal a page of her notes.

She hadn't seen this since he'd taunted her with it the first day, and she swallowed thickly as she stared at the little childish sketch of her castle.

"What are you saying?" she murmured quietly, her fingers drifting over the haphazard lines and indents.

"I am suggesting," Erik stated calmly, "that we fulfill that particular dream and leave behind this legal system entirely."

Sooo... a few of you were already on board for the whole...running away scenario, and look, even Erik's suggesting it! Think Christine will go for it? And who was ready for her to suggest getting married to circumvent testifying?

I had more time to write this week so I have a special offer for all of you! If you can get that review total up to 858, you shall immediately be rewarded with a new chapter! Otherwise, see you all next Saturday! (I do realize how whoorish this makes me seem...)