Chapter Four

Track Down This Murderer and His Wife


Christine snuggled into the material of Erik's jacket, the lapels brushed her cheeks as her face was nose to chest. He sighed, holding his wife close to him, his wife. Christine was his wife, not the Vicomte's, his. She had married him and allowed him to make love to her without his mask, she had even begged him to do so. Erik could not think of how he could be happier.

Christine began to drift off into sleep. It had been several days since he had killed Raoul's spies, and she had learned to forgive him and calm down. She lay in his arms now, as they rode the streets of Italy. They had arrived in Naples this morning, and had been taking carriage rides all day to get to where Erik had in mind. She trusted him even now, that he had killed two men, after all, he had told her not to come over there.

Erik felt her body go limp with sleep and he smiled at his wife's trust. She had witnessed a terrible thing in Florence, but he did not regret protecting her and their privacy. He knew the Vicomte might come here himself to try and get her back, but he would not allow it. She was his, she had given herself to him of her own free will, and she would not be taken away by a mere boy.

He shifted slightly, trying to calm from his thoughts, she stirred deeper into his chest and then lay still again. He reached out, gently stroking her hair, they would arrive soon. He did not want to wake her until it was absolutely necessary. She had slept little since she had watched him kill those men, and she would need her strength.

"Pandora..." He whispered affectionately. Always the curious one was Christine.

Christine dreamt of her childhood in Sweden, old memories that she usually dreamt but she hadn't lately, what with her nightmares of the killings.

She saw her father, swinging her high into the sky, smiling fondly at this which he had helped create. Then she was sitting on his lap, her face in his chest as he played for her, the music from his violin hauntingly beautiful. She smiled in her sleep, the melody playing in her head over and over again, she was asleep now, and he stopped, bending to kiss her forehead, and then handing her to her mother, who took her to bed.

Then they were in Paris, her mother had died and they had left their native country to start anew. Christine held his hand as they walked down the cobbles, waving to people pushing their carts, buying things along the way home.

She awoke with a start as the carriage came to a halt, sitting up she looked curiously at her husband. He smiled softly, caressing her cheek. "This is our stop." He whispered.


Raoul generously payed the captain to allow him to board the ship that was leaving for Italy. That same evening he payed a very young shy female passenger to ease his stress in a certain way.

He found himself drinking, something he rarely did but there he was, drinking like an alcoholic. Christine... She could ease his pain far better than the previous girl. She would be his wife and bear his sons and let him make love to her whenever he pleased. She would do anything for him.

He smiled and fell asleep, bottle of liquor in hand.


Christine gasped and whirled around, arms to the sides through the foyer of the grand house. She leaned against a marble pillar, then ran into the living room, then the dining room, then the kitchen. She flew up the stairs, heedless to Erik's laughter at her childlike behavior. She marveled the master bedroom and then opened another door, something between a gasp and a sigh escaping her lips. It was a nursery, completely set up for a baby and even a bed for a child or toddler. She ran her hand over the rail of the crib, something inside her wanting to put them to good use. But she knew no was not the time. She went down into the living room. Her husband stood arm against the mantle, he gazed into the flames, a glass of something in his hand. She smiled and went behind him, hugging him.

"How on earth did the OPERA GHOST manage a house like this?"

He chuckled. "My home beneath the Opera was not my only home. I designed this when I was younger, and lived in it for a few years."

"And you left it furnished?"

"Nadir, my Persian friend would come to check on it. As you saw we have four servants, a maid, a butler, a cook and a coachman. I take care of the land and stables and now you," he ste down his glass and turned so he was holding her. "You are in charge of the house."

She smiled and he bent to kiss her. "I love you."

He placed his cheek in her hair. "I love you."

She laughed. "You were planning to have kids?"

"Let's say I thought you would come around sooner, but it turned out I met you when I did."

She nuzzled his face. "You aren't that old, I'm sure it could still work out. If you wanted to, of course."

He kissed her cheek. "When the whole Raoul thing is over." He promised her.

She looked up. "Really?" she blushed, knowing she sounded like a child herself.

He laughed. "Yes, Christine, really."

She blushed even deeper. "What would I do without you?"

"Live a boring life in Paris alone, with the fop."

She made a purring noise and slid her hands into his jacket, pushing it back and off. Getting up on tiptoe she kissed him, more deeply than the past two.

He sighed and brought her up into his arms, carrying her up the stairs.


Christine lay in the bed, her husbands arms around her, his soft snores making her smile. She sighed, nuzzling into his chest possessively, thinking on their life together. Other than the imposing threat of Raoul it was nearly perfect. Once Raoul was done pestering them they could start their family, taking them all around the world.

She knew that she could get pregnant before it was wise, which she was prepared for. She had decided if Raoul would not let them alone she would allow Erik to do whatever he pleased with him. She would, of course, make sure he would do it away from her and their lavish home.

It surprised her to think he could have afforded it, even when he was younger, but architects did make good money.

She dismissed her curiosity, closing her eyes, imagining their children. She wouldn't mind having many sons as long as she had at least one girl. Their faces flashed in her mind, bright and smiling but most importantly whole.

She didn't think it was that important, actually. If she had a baby with a face that wasn't complete she would love it just as much, after all, she loved it's father.

She drifted into sleep for the second time that evening, happy beyond belief. She was lying in her husbands arms, unaware of Raoul's ship, which would dock in a week. She only knew she loved him, he loved her, and they were beginning to have a real life.


Sorry it's shorter, quick announcement, as you all wished, Christine is not going to fail, but there will be a really tough situation to get out of. R and r

Sharon