I'm still reeling from the last Downton Abbey episode, but I shall try to pull myself together for posting! And I shall also refrain from speaking any spoilers for any of you who watch and have not yet seen it. But for those who did... I'd love to discuss with you!

Anyway, thank you so much to those who reviewed last chapter. Always brightens my day!

And now, without further ado... onward!


XLV

Theirs was a quiet life. The Daroga visited them on occasion—slightly more often now that they had a baby boy to draw his affection, but not so much that they felt he was an intrusion. He minded their privacy quite well and always purposefully triggered one of the traps so that Erik could come and collect him on the other side of the lake should his visit be convenient. On more than one instance he had been left waiting, but he did not begrudge their lack of response.

When winter waned and spring began, both Erik and Christine were introduced to the joys of colic. No matter what they did or how comfortable they tried to make their boy, he would cry and whimper at all hours of the night, leading to both of his parents appearing haggard and harangued. But that too passed, much to the relief of all.

Keane was never a very cheerful baby. It was a delightful day when he released his first laugh, but it took quite a bit of coaxing in order to get him to repeat the action. He did like to smile, much to his parents' enjoyment, but mostly at his mother—which Erik understood perfectly. In general he was of a sombre disposition, and Erik and Christine could already tell he would be of a thoughtful nature. But it made his smiles and his laughter all the sweeter for its scarcity.

Their anniversary was celebrated in a befitting fashion. Erik had cooked them a delicious meal and they had feasted upon the lake. Keane was kept in his bassinet a safe distance away from the shore in case he wriggled too much, and he slept through most of their supper. The new Opera had yet to open, but Erik did manage to take all three of them up so they could spy on the rehearsals. Christine had been rather wary at first, but had soon lost herself in watching all of the scampering performers and very much enjoyed herself overall.

But both were in agreement that what was best was when they had tucked Keane back into bed and enjoyed the more intimate side of their marital union.

Erik had held her close when they were finished, running his hands through her curls as was his wont, his expression thoughtful. "I think we have made a mistake."

Christine turned to face him, already feeling the trepidation take hold. "What do you mean?"

He kissed her temple softly, and she could not help but relax, although she still waited for him to expound. "Christmas, your birthday and our anniversary are all within a month of one another. We should have spread it more evenly throughout the year so I might have something to look forward to."

She had wanted to smack him for worrying her, but found she could not—not when he was so sweet.

But now spring was giving way to summer and Keane had grown considerably. His favourite new trick was rolling about on the floor, and no matter how Erik tried to persuade him that such was not dignified nor appropriate, Keane continued to do so all the same.

Christine found her boy's newfound abilities to be highly amusing, and she was thoroughly grateful once more for Erik's plush carpets that would keep him safe and comfortable. The one thing she absolutely insisted upon was for a new screen to be fashioned for the fireplace. Even in the earliest days of summer when the heat became uncomfortable above, a fire was still necessary to ward off the chill of the underground. Erik created a very imposing structure that allowed for warmth to permeate the room and was quite attractive with its ironwork, but would ultimately keep their boy far away from danger.

But what thrilled Christine most was that Keane's eyes had steadily changed over the past months, and instead of the pale infant blue they had once been, they now appeared more like his father's. It was rather startling at first to see her husband's eyes peering back at her from her baby's round face, but that soon gave way to a comforting feeling that something of Erik's could be so readily seen in his features.

Unfortunately, they soon discovered that particular feature had an unexpected consequence.

Erik watched Christine ruefully as she strode about their home, dusting for the third time that morning, huffing all the while as she did so. He had grown used to these fits of restlessness, and he patiently waited for her to finally speak to him about what she required for distraction. It was not yet midday and it was rare that he ventured above at this time, but not entirely unheard of. Since Keane was born they had only emerged in the earliest morning hours and after dusk, though they all agreed it was far easier for Erik to simply procure supplies on his own. So their outings were confined to walks through empty parks and strolls through the sparsely populated streets.

But he waited for her to speak of her desire aloud, already mentally preparing himself for the tedious process of applying his full mask to his face. Whether a positive or not, he had grown used to not wearing a covering of any kind while in his home, and although his skin would never truly improve in appearance, it did at least in quality.

Finally she did so. She scooped up Keane after he had wriggled and rolled his way over to her, and she looked at Erik imploringly. "Might we go for a walk?"

He rose and kissed her cheek. "Of course. You need only ask."

She waited impatiently for him to prepare, and he felt a moment's resentment that this façade was necessary for him to be able to go above during the daylight hours. But that too past when he reminded himself firmly that he had to be grateful for the genius necessary to create such an apparatus, and that he had a family with which to spend the day.

Christine practically bounced along the tunnels, and on more than one occasion he had to take hold of her arm to keep her from abandoning him altogether. Even without a lantern she had become quite fluent in the twists and turns necessary to reach the entrance of the Rue Scribe, but that did not mean he wished for her to plod ahead of him.

Aside from his bout with colic, Keane was not prone to crying. He would whimper or perhaps even produce a whine of displeasure, but neither sound lasted overly long. So when Erik pushed open the door and the noonday sun blared bright and hot, they were unprepared for his full and despairing sobs.

Christine had been holding him at her hip and whatever excitement she had felt at being outdoors was quickly overshadowed with concern. Keane was trying to bury his face into her chest as he clutched at her bodice. Erik was used to the moment's adjustment that was necessary when going from blackness to daylight, and while it could be uncomfortable, it was not excessively painful.

Surely this would pass.

But Keane continued to wail and Christine turned to him pleadingly. "Please, help him!"

Despite the warm weather Erik never felt comfortable leaving his home without a cloak. It housed his lasso and was therefore a necessary part of his attire, regardless of the weather. And now as he tucked his son into the garment and hid him as best he could from the offensive light, he was grateful for his fastidious and protective ways.

Erik's first impulse was to retreat back into the tunnel, but he did not know if this was simply a part of maturation, and if Keane was merely surprised by the change in brightness. But Christine was clutching at him and pulling him back to the doorway from whence they came, and he decided that they could discuss this matter further when their boy was not still whimpering his distress.

They did not speak on the way back through the tunnels, and Christine kept herself close to her husband while also keeping a comforting hand on Keane's back through the cloak.

He was still sniffling when they went through the front door, and he remained cuddled against Erik's chest as he sank down upon the settee.

Erik swallowed and allowed his fingers to stroke the soft hairs that had suddenly begun to become more plentiful. "He could simply have been startled. It does not mean that something is wrong." Even as he said it he could tell that he did not truly believe it. Keane was not one for dramatics, and he was more curious by new and exciting things than frightened.

Christine settled down beside him and he could practically feel her anxiety. "No. I think we did this."

Erik flinched and closed his eyes, clutching more fully to his boy that was grasping at his father's collar. Keane was perfect. Even if something proved to be wrong, he was their boy and he could not bear if Christine blamed him for some malady.

His wife took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, but he could find no comfort in it. Not now.

"We have been selfish, Erik. You and I tried to tell ourselves that we were thinking of him by remaining down here—that it was for his safety. But I think we were afraid to try living above. And now he is suffering for it."

Erik allowed his lips to skim over his son's forehead, the guilt eating at him painfully. "It is safe down here," he replied weakly.

Christine pressed against his side and gave his hand yet another squeeze in reassurance. "I know that. But we can be safe elsewhere because we will be together. And we have to decide how we want our boy to live. I am seventeen years of age and it still hurts my eyes to go above when it is sunny. I can only imagine how it is for him when he is still developing!"

She took a deep breath and reached to touch his cheek, looking dismayed that she could not actually come into contact with his flesh when this particular mask was in the way and she was unable to remove it. "We have to put him first, Erik. And I want for him to have choices in the world. If we remain down here he will not have them."

Erik wanted to growl that she was wrong. He should never have given her those books on childhood development or else she would not be insisting about such a thing. But she had wanted to know how Keane would grow and he being the foolishly indulgent husband that he was had offered her a variety of tomes of the subject.

But as he looked at his boy's huddled form and he remembered the cries of pain and discomfort that had issued from his tiny lungs, he knew that he would do absolutely anything for his son.

Anything.

But how could he agree to this when it would only put his family in danger? People could not have changed so very much in the decades since his childhood. A flimsy façade would not protect him from the stares and the questions—not when he had to live and work amongst them. Already his face felt irritated and uncomfortable from being so completely covered, and to have to live in this manner...

Anything.

How was he to keep them safe when his very presence would put them in danger?

He tried to imagine leaving them. He would purchase a small cottage far away from the bustle and depravity of the city and allow Christine to raise their boy in the sunlight and the goodness of the country where he could flourish and grow unimpeded. He would continue to live in the underground, visiting them on occasion to bring supplies and see that they were safe and happy, while also keeping a careful distance so as to ensure he was capable of tearing himself away once more.

"Perhaps it would be better for you and Keane to live above. It would be a risk for me to be seen living with you as it would raise questions from any neighbours." His heart ached even as the words escaped him, but he had to do what was best for his family.

Erik did not expect to feel Christine tearing at his mask. Her hands were feverish as she scratched at it until it gave way and she could peel it away from his flesh, and she tried to soothe it as best she could with gentle fingertips even as she glared at him with such ferocity.

"You will never suggest such a thing ever again, Erik. Do you hear me? You think I could ever agree to rip out my own heart while you wither away down here alone?" She leaned back and looked at him with such anguish and disbelief that it sent another pang of guilt through him for even proposing it. "Do you doubt my love for you so completely?"

She was crying, and he had done that, and he felt ashamed that he had caused her such despair. "Christine..." He finally managed to tear one hand away from his boy so he could rest it upon her shoulder as he tried to offer comfort, but she lurched away violently.

"No, you do not get to say such things and then dismiss them as if they did not matter. Such thoughts should not even enter your mind! We are a family, Erik, and that means something to me even if it does not to you!"

He blinked at her incredulously, his own ire rising at her insinuation. "It is only because my family means so much to me that I would be willing to do so! I must keep you safe, Christine. You do not know what it was like for me to live above!"

Erik took a shuddering breath as he pushed down the memories of the taunts and the looks and even the stones that were thrown at him.

Devil. Demon. Abomination.

They were silent then aside from their mutual breathing. What were once harsh pants turned to calm breaths, and Erik could not help but shiver when he felt Christine's hand once more in his. "Let us start this conversation again, my husband. Our baby needs for his parent's to live aboveground. How can we accomplish this to all of our satisfactions?"

He glanced at her and while her indignation had apparently cooled, there was still a hardness about her shoulders and the tightness of her lips that told him quite clearly that she would not be moved.

And then he started to cry.

He did not mean to and he tried to stop the sobs from bubbling up from the depths of his soul but they would not be quelled. He clutched at her hand and at the small body still pressed upon his chest as he murmured his apologies. "I am sorry, my rose. So very sorry! Of course we should remain together, even if your poor Erik is to blame for our son's discomfort."

He brought her hand to his lips and peppered it in kisses, willing his contrition to seep into her skin and she would believe him.

"Oh, Erik," she sighed.

Christine moved closer and embraced him as best she could with an exhausted Keane slept upon him. "I do not blame you. We did not know that living here for so long would be problematic, and now that we do we shall remedy it. That is all we can ever hope to do. You told me once that we would make mistakes as parents and this was one of them."

She was looking at him so intently, and while her compassion was still evident, there was now a tinge of pain that flittered about her features. "But you must promise me that you will never speak of living apart ever again. I could not bear it, Erik. And Keane needs his father. I could not care for him all alone! And you keep us safe. Always. Not some cottage in the country."

The faith she placed in him was truly overwhelming, but her sincerity was so blatantly obvious that he could do nothing but trust her. He swallowed thickly and felt her brush away the remnants of his tears. "I promise, Christine."

She stared at him intently for a moment longer, evidently trying to judge his sincerity. Eventually she smiled faintly and kissed his cheek in comfort. "We are getting better, you and I. I know we are. We are allowed our little bumps in the road now and again."

Erik scoffed. "You do far better than I ever shall." Her bouts of memories and darkened thoughts were few and far between. And even when vivid reminders were set before her, she only needed to turn to him for comfort on the rarest of occasions. Her nightmares had all but desisted, and when they were at their most vulnerable during intimate relations, she hardly ever had to ask him to pause because some remembrance had shaken loose.

She shook her head. "It is not a competition." Her eyes darkened. "And you know very well the life I would still be living if you had not grown to love me."

He certainly did know of it, though it sent an ache through him to even think of it for a moment. "How could anyone not grow to love you? You are everything that is good and lovely."

Christine kissed him, softly and briefly, a mere brush of contact because she said he was sweet, and she settled down beside him once more.

"Let us think of this another way. Eventually there will be more babies," Erik's pulse quickened at the thought, "and if it is a girl, they cannot share a nursery." She turned to look at him. "At least... I do not think so. Do siblings share a nursery?"

Erik shrugged, grateful for the pleasant diversion, regardless of the fact that he felt a bit unprepared to be contemplating another addition so soon. "No daughter of mine is going to share a bedchamber with her brother."

Christine smiled and this time it was genuine and relaxed him. All he wanted was for her to be happy.

For both of his loves to be happy.

"Well, there we have it. I doubt I should like to move when I am pregnant, so we are merely making early preparations for our future." She rested her head against his shoulder, and he allowed his to rest upon hers. "So no feeling guilty. Either of us."

How easily she made such a pronouncement.

But she was his wife and even he could admit that the idea of finding a home that could suit all of their needs was a tantalising prospect. There would have to be many rooms. A parlour for his Christine, and a room entirely devoted to music—one with a door for those occasions when privacy was needed. There would have to be multiple bedchambers, for he most certainly was not about to forego relations with his wife unless she specifically requested it, and he would always welcome whatever babes she gifted him.

Even if he still had a lingering feeling of worry that they would not be quite as perfect as his wife deserved.

But he pushed away such thoughts for they were not justified, and discredited the loving nature of Christine and her ability to care for even him.

Deciding to play her game, he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. "We shall need a bedchamber that allows morning light through the windows. I quite think I should like to make love to you when your hair glistens in the sunshine."

He waited to see if she would be angry for his impudence, or perhaps disgusted that he would mention such a thing when he had been so foolish only moments before. But she merely sighed and nestled closer.

"That sounds lovely."

Indeed.


Sooo… Poor little Keane, and foolish Erik for ever suggesting they live apart! Just to clarify about Keane though, he has lived underground in relatively dim lighting for the entirety of his life, and it's starting to take its toll on the development of his vision. They need to move for him to adjust properly or else they'd be confining him to living belowground forever… Hmm… but being the Phantom isn't so bad…

But what do you think of them moving? Yay, nay? How many want to bludgeon Erik?