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                                The Seal of The Deal—The Bond—The Trust

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           They say Home is where the Heart is…And Christine's heart was now forever swept up in Erik's world.  She had given it to him willingly…Because she finally understood that what she wanted was for him to have it.  He had promised her long before then that if she would only be his, he would be as gentle as a lamb…And he had kept his promise.  He gratefully fulfilled his duties as the maker of magic so generously once their pact was sealed, that Christine had never since had a moment to even remember the old horrors and tragedy of their circumstances. 

           Since then, life with Erik was one beautiful dream that had become almost too magnificent.  Like a whirlpool, endlessly spiraling and deconstructive…And Christine had not realized it until she had to leave.  The day she left last week, the shock of the outside world and the absence of her miraculous sorcerer were so appalling that she had actually become physically sick.  She had managed to pass off the reaction as a response to her Mamma's death…But truly she knew that she had been sucked too deeply under into their dreamland. 

           And she would not be well again until she returned to it…Returned to him.  She now understood that, without him, she would not survive.  She could not endure without him…And, deep within her soul, she was not quite sure if that was love or if it was something else…Perhaps something much darker…

           Christine belonged to Erik.  Body, mind, heart, and soul.  There was no escaping…But she did not want to escape.

           But was that so terrible?  After all…Was she not happy?  Yes.  And so she had been…Completely happy.  And perhaps that was love…In its own way.  For now, she could only dimly remember the last time sadness had crossed her heart…

           Erik had found her the night before the ceremony of their marriage in a most distraught state.  The bridal gown was fantastically displayed against the wardrobe…waiting to be worn in the presence of God.  But Christine sat on the other side of the room, her eyes reddened and locked on the white veil, which she twisted in her hands.  Her state was so changed from the excitement of nervous expectation that had filled their lives since they had made their choice that Erik was immediately filled with dread.  Had she come to regret her decision?  So soon…So close…

           He knelt before her, and she could feel his hand tremble as he laid it on the lace across her knee.  Her eyes felt sore and dry as she lifted them to his and waited for him to speak.

           When he did, she could hear the fear in his voice plead with her heart, "My Angel…My dear one…Please…"   And when she only stared into his yellow eyes with a sadness so cold that it was almost dead, Erik, in near panic, commanded her to speak, "Tell me what is on your mind."

           She did not break eye contact with him and answered very plainly, "The chandelier."

           Erik's heart had not expected that.  He did not know what to say, and his gaze fell to her hands. 

           Christine's eyes filled with tears, and her hands clenched the lace, twisting it so brutally that Erik was suddenly terrified that she would tear it. 

           "Christine!"  In alarm, he grabbed her hands too tightly to stop her from destroying the priceless fabric. 

           She only wrenched her hands away from his and wiped at her eyes as she choked on her next breath. 

           He caught a hand back again and pressed it to his heart, pleading with her to look at him as he spoke, suddenly determined, "It was not my doing!…The frog in Madame Carlotta's throat, that was my doing, yes, but…The chandelier was not."

           She kept her eyes on him then, regarding his distorted features in cautious astonishment.  She knew he would not lie to her…Not now when the whole world was at stake—No, he was telling the truth.  But the chandelier was not the only thing on her mind.  There was more…So much more darkness about their past. 

            "But what about the other tragedies," she began, her voice shaking with its efforts to remain strong.  "I know there were groundless rumors… but…Joseph Buquet?"

           Erik did not release her hand, keeping his eyes trained on hers.  He spoke immediately with a passion that could never be false, "The hatred and fear men have forever had for me have made me the monster in their eyes.  They see me and in their minds know I must be evil.  Joseph Buquet hunted me as so many have before.  I am used to being hunted, Christine, and I take precautions.  As long as I have lived down here, I have sheltered myself from attack…The lake, the passages, the traps… Perhaps they were unnecessary as long as I kept to myself, but I did not dare disable them.  They have been there for years.  I knew Buquet was too curious for his own good, but I did not expect him to be caught in a trap.  But when he was, I found him too late…The same as everyone else.  There was nothing I could do except make it seem like voluntary suicide and pray no one else was foolish enough to investigate."

            "So when he was hanged…That wasn't…"  Christine tried to sort out in her mind all the rumors that had proved too frighteningly accurate about her Ghost.  "All that has been said about your threat…The noose…There is no Punjab Lasso?"

           Erik shook his head slowly.  "An ancient legend…I strung him up that way after I stumbled across him dead."

           Christine pressed her lips together, looking away from Erik's burning eyes.  His explanations were fair.  Perhaps these questions and accusations were simply excuses for her own lack of strength.  How could she have doubted him?  What he was saying made so much sense, and she should have never questioned his prerogative!  A feeling of guilt and shame spread from her chest to her cheeks; she felt as presuming as any of those who had made the assumption of Erik's evil simply because she did not understand.  How could she!  She searched her heart for an answer, but in a moment a memory of misfortune jumped to her attention!  There was yet another matter to settle.

           She returned her gaze to meet Erik's, watching his eyes for the truth.  Perhaps Buquet was merely the victim of ill judgment, but on that final night when the fate of all of Paris hung in the balance, she remembered that Erik could have been capable of any crime of passion.

           She spoke clearly but made certain she did not make the mistake of supposition. "And what of the Count de Chagny…Was that another of your traps?"

           Erik answered just as clearly, "No, my dear…Buquet's misfortune was the only incident there has been in your history.  I am afraid the Count was simply a poor swimmer…And a bit too much for the drink…"

            "But I remember you said…The Siren?"  Her recollections of that night were dimmed by tears, but had he not blamed Count Philippe's death on his Siren?

           Erik only shook his head.  The truth was in what he had just told her.

           But Christine did not understand…Was there a threat?  Perhaps masked in metaphor as the torture chamber had been…How did the lethal Siren figure in to Erik's domain?  "Erik I must know…What is The Siren?"

            "More ancient legend…Greek…"  Erik almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the connection before continuing, "As the Sirens lured mariners to destruction with their song, I find the fairy tale fits our surroundings…the lake…the boat…the music…And the destruction of the cruelties of outside reality…"  He let go of her hand then and laid it across the lace.  "It is just an idea, Christine.  Now and then, you will find that the strangest ideas come to me…"

           Christine looked away again as she felt the warm feeling of shame creep across her once again, and she spoke, confirming for her own peace, "So everything…Every tragedy, every death…"

           Erik broke into her thoughts, "I swear by my love for you, Christine, I am innocent."

            "By your love…" she repeated, breathtaken by the sincerity of his pledge as she returned her gaze to his.

           When he held her eyes again, he spoke in all seriousness, "My dear, my craft rests in illusions and fantasy.  I have not done a man true harm for many, many years…And why ought I when I yearn for normalcy?  All I want is to live like any other man…"

            "With a wife like any other man…" she finished his words.

           He took her hands again, lifting them to his lips as he looked silently into her eyes before speaking, "With you."

           Christine was too overcome for words, but the edges of bliss crept to her smile as Erik lifted the wedding veil and placed it on her head as he continued:

            "For far too long, I have been the scapegoat of those who would fear me and blame me for their own inner evils…But in you, my Angel, I have found salvation."

           Before that moment, Christine's true feelings for Erik had only been a mutual understanding…But it was with Erik's avowal that, for the first time ever, Christine spoke the words aloud:

            "Erik, I love you."

           And from that night on, she had never known a moment's sorrow or despair.  They had been truly happy together in the empire of magic…Two creatures of Heaven become one….

           Until she had to leave him…

           And as she stroked the black lagoon water with the oar of the boat, she wished there had been some way she could have told him she was returning early…For all her desire to at least be among his surroundings, she could suddenly not bear the thought of returning to that lair and remaining alone for as long as two whole nights!…But she had come this far, and though she knew she did not have a choice, she made her way as slowly as she possibly could and tried to let her mind wander to sweeter memories, blocking out her desolate surroundings.

           She did not need to concentrate on her direction.  There was only one fork in her path and she had not yet drifted so far…But she was cold.  Despite the fact that it was supposed to be summer, she still had a touch of the fever and so she shivered and pulled the hood of her heavy woolen cloak up to cover her head and hair, and wrapped its thick folds around herself tightly.  It was difficult for her to concentrate on the golden thoughts she tried to conjure…Magic was never so believable without Erik near…She was in need of a diversion…

           When she let her eyes return to the waters before her that were only dimly lit for the short distance that her lantern pierced the mist, she saw she had reached the junction in the canal…Erik's house between the walls was to the right.  Erik always took her to the right….This was Christine's first time taking the boat by herself and she would too go to the right…Finish the last leg in her journey home…

           Yes, she told herself, It is time to go home…So why had she stopped stroking?

           The skiff floated silently in the center of the junction, turning very slowly with the water's natural motion.  Christine chose not to answer her own question and took her time to rub the warmth back into her cheeks…She needed a diversion.  Erik always took her to the right…But something in her did not want to go to the right…Not just yet…Who knew what undiscovered secrets dwelled in the dark stretches of Erik's labyrinth.  Part of her wanted to be the one to discover every last clandestine bit of the man she loved…And yet…The better part of her yearned for the warmth of a fire…No matter how lonely. 

           She sighed to herself and lifted the oar once more to finish going home…But when she looked again, she realized that the boat had since turned almost ninety degrees…To the left.

           As she stared off down the corridor of question into the darkness, she could not tell when water met fog.  But her hesitation in motion was gone as soon as it had come, for Christine had already made the decision in the favor of destiny, and she smiled to herself as she began to row—To the left.  

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