In Marriage

As the darkness of the morning faded into daylight, the coach carrying the infamous Phantom of the Opera and his chosen soprano rumbled along the dirt roads of the French countryside towards Chantilly. All four passengers had sat in quiet tension, hardly daring to breathe at all for as long as it had taken them to put the Paris city limits well behind them. Each mile traversed brought a little more relief, and soon the hours were being passed in soft conversation.

The subject of Erik's morning encounter with the robber and the police was determinedly broached again by Christine. As Erik had suspected, the entire story, when he'd finally revealed it, had not been well received. Christine's face had gone ashen when he'd described the events in the alleyway. She'd thrown herself into his arms again, grateful that he'd not gotten himself killed or captured, and then she'd pushed him away with a huff, calling him a bloody fool for taking such a chance with a gun pressed into his chest. Her moods lately shifted faster than his own, and he vaguely wondered if her pregnancy was the cause. He recalled hearing that women could be exceptionally emotional whist with child, and he suspected that the coming months would be a challenge for them both.

Despite the growing distance from Paris, Erik kept a watchful eye on the road for any signs of trouble. The day had not had a promising start, and he found himself waiting for the next difficulty to present itself. Yet for once, Fate seemed to be on his side, and the journey was free from anymore unwanted drama.

It was just after noon when the coach came to a stop in front of the little church to which Madame Giry had given Jerome directions. The building was constructed with rather crude stonework, chipped and timeworn, and the thatched roof was showing signs of age. Yet the grounds were immaculately maintained with fine rows of flowerbeds and bushes lining the building. It was every bit a small country church, well away from prying eyes and wagging tongues.

Madame Giry exited the coach first, slipping inside the church so that she might speak with the vicar in private. Meg excused herself so that she might stretch her legs and immediately struck up an amiable conversation with Jerome. Erik stayed in the coach with Christine, still guarded and watchful. Christine took note of his tense demeanor and slipped her hand into his, smiling in reassurance. He relaxed only marginally, yet returned her smile. He could scarcely believe he was sitting outside of a church with Christine, waiting to make her his wife.

Madame Giry came along side the coach again, and Erik's tension returned as he waited for her to relay some catastrophic news. She merely raised her brows and asked, "Are you quite ready to be wed, my friend?"

Christine tightened her grip on Erik's hand, her entire form trembling in anticipation. The couple quickly made their way out of the coach and followed Madame and Meg into the church. The interior was as lovingly maintained as the grounds, despite wearing the same marks of age and use. Erik felt decidedly out of place, having only ever set foot in the chapel at the Opera Populaire to achieve his own selfish gains. He had used his guise as an angel to lure Christine to him, gain her trust, making a mockery of her beliefs.

Madame Giry had assured Erik that the vicar was a compassionate man who did not participate in the idle gossip of the villagers, and indeed, the elder gentleman greeted them with a warm smile and barely spared a glance at Erik's mask. He did, however, make it a point to thank Erik for the hefty donation to his church. Erik had shifted uncomfortably, having no faith to speak of, but Christine had been pleased by the vicar's words, so Erik nodded in acknowledgement.

Meg pulled Christine aside, grinning broadly and pushing a small cluster of flowers into her friend's hands. "Here, Christine…every bride should have a bouquet."

Christine smiled at the gesture, but her brow went up in suspicion, thinking of those lovely flowerbeds outside of the church, "Meg, where did you get these?"

Meg clicked her tongue, dropping her voice to nearly a whisper, "Never you mind where I got them. Now go on, it is time for you to become Madame le Fantôme?" Christine giggled a little at her friend's teasing, yet her eyes sought out Erik across the room as he spoke with the vicar about the marriage license. As if sensing her gaze, he turned and met her eyes, and the emotion that entered the glittering blue-green depths could hardly be considered proper for their surroundings.

The wedding ceremony was simple and beautiful, with Meg standing to Christine's left and Madame Giry to Erik's right. Christine's dress was not the fine white lace that Erik had once chosen, but a simple pale pink that she had traveled in. Nor was the ring that Erik placed on her finger the glittering bluish gem that held so many bad memories, but a simple engraved gold band whose twin Christine slid onto Erik's elegant hand. The pain of the past had no place here, only the hope for their future as they pledged their love and fidelity.

After the vows were exchanged and the marriage consecrated in the eyes of God, the wedding party once again piled into the coach to complete the journey to Chantilly. Christine could not keep the smile from her face as she twined her fingers with her husband's and rested her head against his shoulder. Erik sat quietly gazing out the window once again, still somewhat in shock that Christine was now his wife. His.

He searched the passing scenery, still alert for any sign of trouble. There was really no way to know how aware of the Paris news the people of Chantilly would be. He could only be grateful that his slip several nights ago had not made the papers, else he'd likely not have made it this far without trouble.

Upon arriving in the town, Jerome pulled up to a small inn bordered by a bit of woods. It seemed sufficiently out of the way, and Erik made a note to give Jerome a few more Francs for being so forward thinking. The ladies entered the inn first while Erik remained, preferring to have another word Jerome before himself slipping into the building.

Inside the inn, Madame Giry secured three rooms, one in the name of Rousseau, which was the name Erik had given to the vicar, one for herself and Meg, and one for the coachman. Erik had stolen into the room as discreetly as possible, grateful that his wife had provided some distraction for him. After dropping their bags, Madame and Meg decided to explore Chantilly, leaving the newlyweds alone to enjoy their first hours alone as husband and wife. Antoinette instructed the innkeeper to send supper up to the Rousseaus' room, but not to disturb them otherwise, as they were newly married. Erik and Christine had no reason to venture out until morning, when they would board the train and set forth into their future.

The couple ate together in comfortable silence, speaking a little of England, of the journey and the immediate necessities they would need to secure. A home was first on the agenda, and then some means of income, though Erik's considerable savings from his 'paychecks' over the years would give them a good start.

Christine smiled softly as her eyes roamed hungrily over her husband…her husband. They had not made love since the night before Christine had told Erik of their child. The moments they had stolen together since then had been brief, and each time, Erik had refused them both what they so craved, insisting they would be married before they again gave in to passion. At last, the moment had come. Yet to Christine's incredible frustration, Erik seemed content to simply sit in quiet contemplation of her.

She was far from content. She wanted her husband, and she would have him. With a determined glint in her eyes, she stood and moved around the table coming to rest in front of Erik and laying a hand to his cheek. "I would like to go to bed now, Erik."

He smiled a little, "Of course, you must be tired from the day's journey. You should rest." His eyes were soft on hers, his tone compassionate and tender, and it only served to frustrate Christine even further.

She stepped closer to him, gently pulling his mask away, and sighing in mild annoyance when she had to stop him from turning his face away once again. She leaned down until her mouth was mere inches from his. "I am not tired, Erik. Tonight is our wedding night, and we have been too long apart."

She kissed him then, brushing her lips over his softly at first, and more determinedly when his mouth parted beneath hers. A groan rumbled in his chest and without breaking the sweet contact, Erik stood in front of her, pulling her into his arms and aligning their bodies so that she could feel every inch of his powerful frame. Christine pressed herself even closer and moaned as the familiar fire sparked within her and began to rage out of control.

Erik abruptly broke contact, setting her away from him as he struggled with his desire, and Christine nearly whimpered from the loss. "Christine…?" His voice was hoarse and eyes blazing with barely leashed passion. "Are you certain...that we…should?" His eyes dropped tellingly down to her waist.

Christine felt herself smile a little at his concern and tugged him back to her. "We should, my love." She pressed a kiss to his jaw. "I need you." A tiny nip to his lower lip. "My husband."

Erik was captivated by her playful seduction, and with a groan he captured her mouth deeply. They undressed one another with the swift determination of lovers who had been denied their hearts for too long. Erik lifted Christine in his arms and laid her gently across the bed.

His wife. His soul.

He took every care to be gentle with her as he lost himself in the art of her beautiful body. His hand lingered a moment over the barely discernible curve of her belly. Though the life she carried was not yet visible at first glance, there were some noticeable changes in her figure…a fullness to her breasts and hips which had not been present before. Erik's fingers trembled slightly over her flesh and his eyes lifted to her face. Christine caught her breath at the sudden tenderness there, but tenderness quickly turned to desire as his hand moved lower still. His touch sent a surge of pleasure through Christine, and she writhed impatiently beneath him.

"Erik…"

She reached for him, and Erik could wait no longer. He abandoned his teasing caresses to take Christine's mouth in a soul searing kiss before he slowly joined their bodies in the union they were made for. Christine moaned in pleasure and she wrapped her legs around his waist to bring him deeper. Her nails bit into his shoulders, urging him to move, and he complied. They danced together to the music of their passion, the crescendo building, trembling, and finally crashing over them in waves.

Christine clung to Erik as the exquisite sensations pulsed through her, and then a calmness returned, leaving them both spent and sated. When Erik could no longer keep his full weight from Christine, he shifted and pulled her into his arms, settling her across his chest and pressing a soft kiss into her hair.

Christine smiled sleepily as she snuggled into the warm body of her husband. "I love you, my angel."

"And I you, Christine. Always and forever."

Tangled together in heart and body, they drifted into sleep.

A/N: We are drawing ever closer to the end of what I have written, although I did end up with a little more than I had originally outlined. I am debating with myself on whether or not I should extend this story into Dover.

Following our couple to the birth of Baby Phantom would require, by necessity, several shared scenes with Little Conversations, as I dealt with the baby in that story. Now, I could probably have a great deal of fun rewriting those sections from a different perspective, though some dialogue would remain. The question is would you be bored out of your mind to read it (again.)

I would really appreciate honest opinions and suggestions here (especially from those of you who read both stories.) Should I go on to Dover? Or should I let LC stand as the 'sequel?' You've all been so great with the support and I'd really like to know what you're thinking.

Really short version…thank you to all my faithful reviewers for your kind words and encouragement. Until the next installment.