In Departure

The gentle stirrings of the waking world gradually invaded the private haven that the newlyweds had occupied throughout the night. Christine had been lost in the most wondrous dream, in which she and Erik had been walking along the shore…a young boy and girl, both with dark curly hair, scampering in front of them even as she felt the wonderful weight of another resting in her womb. The warm web of contentment was still wrapped around her as she drifted back to reality in the arms of her husband. She smiled softly as she slowly opened her eyes to encounter the beautiful sight of her angel watching over her.

"Good morning, Madame. I trust you were having pleasant dreams."

Christine stretched languidly against him, her lips curving even more, "Yes…the most magnificent dreams, Erik. Yet they are nothing compared to waking up in your arms."

Erik returned his wife's smile and pressed a brief kiss to her mouth. "As much as I would love to keep you here in my arms all day, mon ange, I am afraid we've a train to catch."

Christine pouted a little as he pulled away from her, but she was duly appeased by the pleasure of watching her husband's lean, powerful form as he dressed. Seeing Christine's rather obvious amusement, Erik raised a brow, "Are you quite enjoying the view, my dear?"

She grinned shamelessly, "Quite."

Erik shook his head in mock exasperation, but the smile would not seem to leave his face. Christine eventually pulled herself from the bed with a great deal of reluctance so that she could dress as well. She frowned as she saw Erik settle the mask upon his face, hating that he needed to wear it, yet knowing it was necessary in public. They swiftly packed their belongings, and Christine slipped into her husband's arms before they set out to meet Madame Giry and Meg.

He smiled down to her, "Are you ready, Madame Rousseau?"

Christine grinned, "Erik…you still have not told me what prompted you to give the vicar that name."

He raised his left brow, "I could not very well give him le Fantôme."

Christine slapped his chest playfully, "Am I never to know if it holds any meaning?"

He sighed, "If you must know, I appropriated it from a philosopher who claimed that man is a noble savage when left to nature…that good people are made unhappy and corrupted by their experiences in society. It rather suits me, do you not think?"

She frowned slightly, "I think we will need to discuss this philosopher of yours, Erik."

He laughed, "I promise you we will discuss him in depth…and a great many others, Christine. We've years ahead of us for such conversations."

Christine's frown at once dissolved, replaced by a joyous smile at hearing Erik finally speak of their future with such unqualified hope. "Yes, my love, years."

xXx

The hour was still early when the coach stopped in front of the railway platform and a dark figure stepped out, offering his hand to help three very different, very important women to the ground. The four made their way to the train quickly, striving to draw as little attention to themselves as possible.

Madame Giry hugged Christine, giving her last minute encouragement and best wishes. Erik kissed little Meg's hand and offered her a hesitant smile and an awkward thanks for all she had done.

Then Erik bowed to Madame Giry, kissing both her cheeks, and Christine hugged Meg fiercely. "You will visit us, Meg. England is not so long a journey these days."

"Of course, Christine." Yet they both knew that it would be quite sometime before they would see one another again.

Christine whispered into the blonde's ear, "Tell Raoul that I am sorry, and that I wish him only happiness."

Meg wiped away an errant tear, nodding at her friend. "I will. Be happy, Christine."

Christine looked to Erik and smiled. "I will be. I feel certain of it."

She took her husband's hand firmly and allowed him to help her step up into the train. Christine turned a tearful gaze once more to the family she was leaving behind before vanishing into the car. With one final bow to both Giry women, Erik disappeared inside as well.

Meg clasped her mother's arm tightly and they stood in watchful silence until the train lurched into motion and disappeared into the bright morning sun.

xXx

Calais was a bustling port, teaming with a mesh of characters the likes of which Christine Daaé Rousseau had never seen. Sailors, businessmen, panhandlers, prostitutes, aristocrats, tourists, young and old, rich and poor, all passing one another on the streets without a second glance. Yet her husband had earned more than one sidelong look, and she could feel his tension radiating from every pour of his body.

Erik had never before openly walked in the light of day, and doing so now was torture to him. Christine was all too aware of his darkening mood. It had begun on the train from Chantilly. Though they'd not encountered any difficulties, the confinement of the private car had made Erik increasingly uneasy. There would have been no escape from a moving train had his fugitive status been discovered.

Christine had been just as uncomfortable. She had always hated traveling by rail as a child, the rough motion of the cars and the rumbling of the wheels over the track making her nervous and slightly ill. The experience had been no better now that she was grown, and probably even made a little worse by the natural symptoms of her pregnancy. Yet having Erik beside her had made the trip bearable, and she'd managed to sleep for a portion of the journey.

She knew her husband had not done the same, but remained ever alert and at the ready. They had not been far from Chantilly before Erik extracted a promise that Christine would immediately return to the Girys in Paris should anything happen to him. He'd forced their marriage license into her hands, saying 'You will be a respectable widow, Christine. Perhaps your vicomte will even take you back.' Christine had hated hearing Erik utter those words in such a cold tone. Despite the promise he'd forced her to make, she had no intention of returning to Paris.

She tightened her hold on Erik's arm, attempting to calm him. Thus far no one had seemed overly suspicious, but the innkeeper was eyeing Erik strangely, obviously trying to peak under the brim of his fedora for a better look at his face. Christine drew a steadying breath and prayed they could make it through one more night in France. Tomorrow they would board the paddle steamer to England. She would breath much easier when they were safely out of the country.

The innkeeper was man by the name of L'Roche, with a cap of messy white hair and a thick beard. His wary green eyes never left Erik as he turned the ledger to be signed. Erik took the pen from the man and even as he set it in motion, L'Roche opened his mouth and let his curiosity reign. "Do you wear that mask for fashion or necessity, Monsieur?"

The pen stilled in Erik's hand, his jaw set and muscles tensed under Christine's hand. She caught her breath, squeezing his arm in an attempt to avert his temper. "My husband was injured in service of the empire, Monsieur. He does not like to speak of it."

Erik raised a brow in surprise and glanced to Christine. L'Roche looked from Erik to Christine and back again, tipping his head to the side in careful contemplation. Christine flashed her most innocent smile at the man, hoping he would let the subject drop. Unfortunately, he did not. "Mm. My apologies, sir, but there was story in the papers awhile back about a masked madman terrorizing an opera house in Paris."

Erik grit his teeth and began to move left hand down under his cloak. Christine's firm grasp on his arm impeded him. She forced a little laugh. "Oh, yes...we have heard that horrid story. Quite ironic, really, as my husband simply abhors opera of any sort." She turned to Erik with a sweet smile. "Do you not, my love?"

Erik looked at her incredulously, shaking his head slightly in disbelief; he turned back to the innkeeper with barely concealed contempt. "Yes…I find such overblown spectacles to be of little use... merely a vehicle to primp the egos of Prima Donnas with more vanity than talent." He felt Christine's nails bite into his arm and glanced back to her with an icy smile.

L'Roche laughed heartily, "I'm of a similar mind, Monsieur." The man nodded then, more to himself than anything, and gave a warm smile to the couple before him. "If you find yourself in need of anything during your stay, I'll be happy to assist you, sir." He handed a key to Erik. "Your room is left at the top of the stairs."

Erik nodded to the man, "Thank you." He turned the key over to Christine, bent to pick up their cases, and headed towards the stairs.

Only when Erik closed the door of their room behind Christine did she allow herself to breathe again. "Erik, do you think he suspected the truth?" Her eyes were wide and fearful.

He raised his brow, "He seemed duly soothed by your fine acting skills, mon ange."

She smiled a little, "You did quite a fine job yourself…although you'd best have been thinking of Carlotta when you spoke of vain Prima Donnas."

Erik chuckled, "Who else would I be speaking of, my dear?" As he spoke, his fingers parted the curtains on the window and his eyes fastened on the street below.

Christine came to his side, taking his hand in hers. "You won't be sleeping tonight, will you?"

Erik turned back to her with a raised brow, "It would not be wise, mon ange. L'Roche has just proven that the story of our unfortunate history has reached Calais. It is best to keep alert, lest we be taken by surprise."

She sighed, "Will we ever be free of this cloud that hangs over us?"

He pulled his hand from hers, turning back to the window with his jaw set. When he spoke, his words were clipped and cold, "You knew what tying yourself to me would mean, Christine. I warned you of it, but you chose this fate nonetheless." He glanced back to her with narrowed eyes, "If you regret it now, you've still time to turn back."

Christine crossed her arms over her chest defensively, her dark eyes sparkling with anger, "I've no regrets. If your damnable temper hasn't yet turned me away, it certainly will not do so now, husband."

Erik wordlessly refocused his attention on the window, and Christine growled in frustration. Two steps forward and three back again…would she always need to beware of every word she spoke?

"I am going downstairs to the tavern, Erik. We've not yet had supper, and your son is making demands on my appetite which I shan't refuse." Christine watched him flinch at her words, but he still did not turn from the window. "Will you make me eat alone?"

"You will draw less attention without me, my dear."

With a little cry of aggravation, Christine turned on her heal and flung open the door, slamming it behind her as she left the room. She swiped away a wayward tear, cursing Erik silently for reducing her to this childish behavior again. Halfway down the stairs, she reluctantly admitted that she'd overreacted to his reticence.

Good God…what is the matter with me? I should know his moods by now. Erik is only being Erik.

Christine hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, thinking she should go back up, but she could smell the most wonderful aroma drifting in from the tavern and her stomach reminded her that she had barely eaten all day. Making amends with Erik would just have to wait until she'd satisfied her sudden craving for roasted chicken.

A/N: I want to thank all of you who gave me your opinions...you might be able to tell by this chapter that I've decided to take Erik and Christine a little farther than the orginal outline to satisfy what I believe is the majority opinion that you'd like to see Baby Phantom. I'll try to keep it at least semi-interesting on the way there. But don't hesitate to keep those reviews coming and let me know if I'm losing your interest.