In Judgment

"Erik…might I have a word with you?"

Laying his plans aside, Erik rose and made his way into Mr. Crawford's office. He was spending a rare morning in the office, and he'd not yet seen much of his employer. The strained look in the older man's eyes sent a feeling of foreboding through Erik as he sat wordlessly across from Crawford and waited.

Crawford sat heavily in his chair, folding his hands and staring intently at Erik. He drew a harsh breath, "The subject I must broach with you is not a pleasant one. I am hoping, however, that we might be able to discuss this as gentlemen." Erik's knuckles grew white as he gripped the arms of his chair. "I have been recently told a…most unfortunate tale…and I am not entirely certain what to make of it. Of course, I did a small bit of research on my own before coming to you with this, and what I discovered would seem to validate what I have been told." Crawford shook his head, sighing in frustration, "I've no other way than to simply ask you. Have you any connection to that Phantom that the Paris authorities were after this past winter?"

My lasso. I need it. I…

Erik expelled a shaky breath, his jaw setting into a hard line. He'd known this would come. Known he couldn't escape the past. He pushed up out of his seat abruptly, his hands clenched into fists and a scowl on his face. For one brief moment, Crawford's eyes flashed with fear. Erik did not say a word, merely spun around and left the office, gathered his case and headed towards the stable where his horse was tethered. His mind was blank…he had not a plan nor a plot to fall back on. He had allowed himself to relax and now he would pay for his carelessness.

He'd just mounted his stallion when Andrew Crawford appeared beside the animal, grabbing the reins. Erik looked down at the man and growled, "You'd best step away or you will come to regret it."

Crawford lifted his cane and quickly poked it into Erik's chest, "Stop acting like a fool, my boy, and get down off that horse. We've not finished our conversation."

Erik shoved the cane away, leaning down towards Crawford, "I think we are quite finished, Mr. Crawford. Now leave off or I will run you over."

Crawford tugged on the reins, "Then so be it, but I do not think Christine will approve."

"Do not speak of her!"

"Will you drag her away to some new city, or will you stay here and let me help you?"

Erik's brows went up in surprise, his scowl fading into a blank look. "Help me?"

Crawford raised a singular brow. "Would you care to finish our conversation now?"

xXx

Ten minutes later they were back in Crawford's office, sitting across from one another once again. Erik knew it wasn't wise, the man could have the police coming at this very moment, but in the end he thought it best to be arrested here rather than in front of Christine. "You wished to talk…so talk."

Crawford sighed, "I was rather hoping you would talk to me, my boy. I only have a story which is likely heavily altered for the sake of drama, and a small newspaper article from February which tells of a fire at the Opera Populaire. As you might imagine, the English papers are never overly concerned with the happenings in France. I believe it was only the strange circumstances that even warranted the incident a mention here."

Erik grimaced, "I suspect the dramatic story you have heard is likely close enough to the truth."

Crawford nodded, "You haunted the Opera House."

"Yes."

"You…murdered two men."

"Two men at the opera, yes."

There was a long drawn out silence before Crawford spoke again. "You kidnapped the soprano, Christine Daaé ."

Erik turned his face away. "Yes."

Crawford nodded again, "Yet the story neglected to say that you married her."

Erik's eyes snapped back to Crawford. "She is innocent in this."

Crawford leaned back against his chair and tilted his head slightly as he continued to study the man before him. "She is a remarkable young woman, Erik, and she clearly loves you. I do not pretend to understand your history, nor am I at all certain that I wish to, but I see before me a man with a promising future."

Erik frowned at Crawford, his brow dropping in confusion. "What do you intend to do?"

Crawford shrugged, "According to the story, the Phantom of the Opera is dead. I have no proof that he is otherwise."

Erik stared in stunned disbelief. "You mean to tell me that you will not turn me over to the police?"

The older man laughed a little, "I hardly think the Dover police would give two spits about you, and I've no intention of notifying the French authorities of anything."

Erik dazedly shook his head. "I…" He broke off, not knowing what to say. Crawford had surprised him. He drew a deep breath and nodded briefly to the man. "Thank you, sir. I assure you that you that I will be gone from Dover as soon as I can arrange…"

"Bloody hell you will, boy! You've a project to finish."

Erik stopped. "But…I thought…"

"You thought incorrectly, Erik." Crawford frowned then, shaking his head, "But perhaps you should return home for the rest of the afternoon. I must attend to the small matter of the person who alerted me to your identity."

Erik's eyes narrowed. He'd been so focused on Crawford he'd nearly overlooked the fact that someone else knew the truth. "Who?"

Crawford's frowned deepened, "I'd prefer not to give you that information, you understand."

Erik stood, leaning over the desk with murder in his eyes, "You understand, I cannot simply let this go."

Crawford sighed, "I think he meant only to stir up trouble for his own selfish gains, else he'd have gone to the police himself instead of coming to me first."

"And what will stop this man from going to the police now?"

Crawford waived a hand, "He has no proof. You are an up-and-coming architect, with a loving wife and a child on the way. Do not underestimate the presence of Christine at your side, Erik. I doubt many would believe that such a lovely creature would willingly marry the very criminal reputed to have terrorized and kidnapped her."

Erik swallowed heavily, "Yet that is exactly what she did, Mr. Crawford."

The older man shook his head adamantly, "No, my boy. She married Erik Rousseau, not the Phantom of the Opera. Do not resurrect that being now. Let me try to help you in my own way before you do something you will come to regret."

Erik wanted to rail at the man, to grab his lasso, or a sword, and put an end to this threat on his happiness. Yet he could do no such thing without putting an end to the man before him, as well, and Crawford had been nothing but kind to him. He did not have any desire to repay the man with violence, and doing so would make Erik a wanted man in England. Where would he take Christine then?

Erik hung his head, taking several deep breaths to calm himself. He would grudgingly agree to allow Crawford a chance, but he would be ready. "You will…inform me immediately if you are unable to contain this situation. I will take Christine away from here before I allow her to see blood on my hands once again."

Crawford nodded solemnly, "I will, Erik. One day…that is all I shall need."

xXx

Informing Christine of the day's events had not been a pleasant affair. She'd dissolved into tears, at once terrified of losing Erik, and just as terrified that he would revert to violence again. He attempted to reassure her as best he could, but his darker thoughts would not be quieted. He felt like a stranger in his own skin…walking the thin line between the monster he had been and the man he had nearly become.

"I have not killed anyone yet, mon ange. Mr. Crawford asked for one day, and I have granted it to him. However, I doubt very much he shall be able to divert this situation. We may need to leave Dover rather quickly."

Christine tightened her arms around Erik, whispering, "Where? Where will we go?"

Erik sighed, "I don't know. We could attempt to stay in England, or perhaps we should try Sweden. What do think of that? You'd like to return to your homeland, would you not?"

Christine sobbed against his chest, "I like it here, Erik. I do not wish to run anymore."

He closed his eyes against the pain of her words, his own arms tightening fractionally. Between them, their daughter was adding her own opinion with a flurry of movement within her mother's womb. When he spoke, his tone was soft, nearly defeated, "What will you have me do, Christine? You already know I would kill for you…but I will lay down my very life if you ask it of me."

"Is there any chance…any at all…that Monsieur Crawford can help us?"

Erik stroked his wife's hair. "I suppose there is always a chance, mon ange, else we certainly would not even be here together at this moment."

Christine pulled back to look into his eyes, which were nearly as red and worried as her own. "If…if he cannot…then I will follow wherever you lead me, Erik. Until there is no longer breath in my body."

xXx

Andrew Crawford called on Edward Markham the very evening of his discussion with Erik, hoping to diffuse the situation the foolish boy had created. Andrew's own past had been less than exemplary, and there were mistakes he had made that he dearly wished could be undone. He'd had the benefit of a rather wealthy family to clean up his youthful indiscretions, though they'd not involved any of the things Erik had admitted to. Suffice to say, the loss of Andrew's leg had made him an angry young man and he'd not outgrown the temperament until he'd met his Sarah. Love could do wonders for a man's disposition.

Erik and his young wife deserved a chance at happiness, and Andrew would be damned if he would let that greedy little ponce cause more trouble than he had already. He'd never liked Markham, and had only stomached him for the sake of his daughter. Victoria had been a backwards child and she had never made friends easily. She'd not had a suitor until Markham came to call, and she'd been so happy to have Edward's attention, begging her father to allow the young man to court her. Only for the sake of his daughter had Andrew overlooked a great deal of Edward's shortcomings. In the past months, however, his daughter had been coming out of her shell. She spoke endlessly of her conversations with Christine, and of listening to Erik's music. Andrew had heard Erik play once, as well, and he'd been awed by it. Knowing the man's history seemed to click the last pieces of the puzzle into place.

Victoria no longer seemed to be in need of Markham's attentions, having become much more confident in her own charms due in large part to the time she had spent visiting with the Rousseaus. Andrew was quite certain that she might finally allow him to introduce her to a more suitable young man. He no longer had any reason to tolerate Markham, especially after the discoveries he'd made recently about the boy's true character. Indeed, Andrew had intended to put the relationship to an end even before the damned fool had attempted to cause trouble for the Rousseaus.

The door to Edward's flat swung in and the man welcomed Crawford in his usual fawning nature. Falling over himself to ensure the older man's comfort. Crawford refused the glass of Sherry that Edward offered and the two men sat across from one another.

Edward smiled shrewdly, "I trust you've not encountered any trouble with that matter I brought to your attention."

Crawford raised a brow at the boy, "No trouble at all, Edward. I am happy to report that you have been entirely unwarranted in your concern. Erik Rousseau is not the Phantom you spoke of."

Edward's eyes widened in surprise, "You cannot believe that! Every detail fits. The mask…the timing of his appearance in Dover…his wife…Christine…the opera house she grew up in."

Crawford scoffed, "Yes…his wife. Christine. Even if she is this same Christine Daaé …do you not think that would seem to prove that Erik cannot be this phantom? The girl clearly adores her husband, I hardly think that would be so if he had terrorized and kidnapped her."

Edward sputtered, "Then he has put some spell on her…they said he could do that…entrance people with his voice."

Laughter erupted from the older man, "Spells? Is the phantom meant to be a ghost or a wizard? The whole story has likely been half created in the imaginations of gossip hounds. You've no proof of anything, Edward, and you'd be wise to let the matter drop."

The young man's eyes narrowed as he glared at Crawford, "I will not. If you'll not take action in this matter then I will."

Crawford raised his cane, pressing it into Edwards chest until the boy was pinned back into his seat. "You will do no such thing. Until this time, I have been very forgiving of your vices, boy. I am quite aware of a number of gambling debts you've acquired, and your drunken nights of debauchery on the town. I am also recently aware of a small discrepancy in the ledgers at my office, which I believe has occurred under your watchful eye on my books. Now I am certain it must simply be an oversight, but it truly does not bode well for your career. Your firm would be most displeased to lose my account." Crawford dropped the cane to the floor and stood, leaving Edward looking up at him in shock.

"Now, you will not repeat your little story to anyone, nor will you ever touch my books again. You will also politely remove yourself from my daughter's life. In return for these things, I will not notify the police of your thievery, and I will pay off your creditors, being so kind as to provide you with a very generous severance pay, as we shall call it, so that you might gain a fresh start. Preferably far away from Dover. And if you think to test me, Mr. Markham, keep in mind that I shall be retaining the evidence against you in a safe location. Am I understood?"

Edward's face had drained of all its color, and he swallowed heavily, "Y-yes, sir."

Andrew smiled, "I wish I could say it has been a pleasure, but it certainly has not. Goodbye, Mr. Markham."

xXx

Andrew Crawford had the very distinct pleasure of informing the Rousseaus that he was quite satisfied that their secret would remain such. Erik was understandably unconvinced…until Victoria Crawford had sadly confided to Christine several days later that her suitor, Edward Markham, had mysteriously broken off with her, resigned with his partners, and quit Dover.

Erik's subsequent inquiry with Crawford had duly satisfied him, and needless to say, he had developed a whole new level of respect for his employer.

A/N: I debated drawing that mess with Edward out...but I took pity on poor Erik and Christine. They still have the matter of Baby Phantom to concentrate on. Erik's reaction might seem a little out of character...that he would allow Crawford the opportunity to help...but he really isn't the same isolated tormented man he was at the opera. Despite his lingering dark side, Christine has managed to have some influence on him.