Author's notes: Erik is in his fifties. In the Kay novel, he is approximately 50 when Christine is 20. There's a big age difference, in fact, he says something to the effect of 'even if all things were equal, I'm still old enough to be her father!' So, yes, if there were children, in a few years, he would be near 60.

In fact, that was my one big qualm with the movie, the fact that they made him so young (comparatively)…it was one less obstacle. Well, that, and that "bad eczema-instead-of-severe-deformity" thing. Come on, man, get some face wash and get on with life! LOL, and I watch the reviews get terrible…

Also, Raoul addresses Erik by his name because he figures it out. I'm not a big R/C shipper, but I don't think he's an idiot and do believe he figured out the OG thing. I just don't think it mattered as much, when he realized both he and Christine had been set up. Carlotta, on the other hand…well…I didn't have the heart to kill her, but that doesn't mean she doesn't get hers!

And yes, oh yes, you don't think I let Erik just get away with it, do you?

Oh, and I lied…there's going to be another chapter after this one, even if it's just an epilogue.

Erik lay beside Christine that night, waiting for sleep to come, knowing that it would not until he broached the subject that, until now, he had been inclined to let slide. He couldn't bring it up over dinner, as his bride had decided to confront him with a different set of facts over the meal.
Raoul and Isabel were long gone by the time Erik and Christine had their bearings enough to leave the opera house themselves. Carlotta, too, was gone, taken by the police for further questioning and a psychiatric evaluation, according to the M. Romano, whom Christine had seen when they finally did leave. M. Romano was very upset, and not just at the prospect of having to replace one of his lead sopranos on quite short notice.

"The nerve of that woman!" he fumed to Christine. "Do you know she's been trying to implicate you in her little disaster since she came here, practically? She's been saying you're somehow responsible for her delusions!" At this, Christine shot Erik a pointed look, which he managed to miss, as he was still scanning the crowds for some sign that Raoul had, in fact, decided to tell the police his story. A well-dressed man was much more believed than a screaming stage diva…but, for the moment at least, all was well.

"Fortunately, her understudy has been working hard," M. Romano concluded. "Anyway, I can see you must have plans. Remember to be here tomorrow morning so we can work with her."

"Of course," Christine said, placing her hand on Erik's arm.

Once at dinner, Erik noticed Christine was barely speaking, though Erik tried to engage her in conversation.

"Are you thinking about Raoul, Christine?" Erik wondered what seeing her former lover had done to his wife's mind. He knew how hard it could be to lay ghosts to rest.

"No," she replied, in a civil tone, but a short one nonetheless.

"My dear," Erik protested, "what's the matter?" Christine studied the napkin in her lap for a moment before meeting his gaze with a steely look.

"The opera ghost, Erik? The opera ghost? Haven't we been through enough?"

"Christine, I-"

"No," she cut him off, keeping her voice quiet to avoid interest from the other tables but making sure to convey her displeasure. "I don't want to hear your excuses. We could have been killed if Carlotta had managed to convince someone of what was going on!"

"I hardly think that would have happened," Erik said, trying to remain calm but inherently disturbed at her anger.

"Erik, she was able to bring Raoul all the way from Paris just by implying that I was in danger! What if she had been able to somehow unmask you tonight? What if you hadn't been in disguise? For all your intelligence, I can't believe you didn't consider that!"

Erik was silent. He had considered the possibility of Carlotta going to the police but had not been sure how much she would connect with Paris. He realized how close it had come this evening. He had decided at the last minute to take Christine to dinner, had actually almost been late to the performance so he could finish applying the prosthetics that he had chosen too close to the show.

"My dear, I'm sorry," he said, the words still difficult on his lips. "I was only trying to protect you."

"Erik, I didn't need your protection! I was scared, but what could she have done? The only reason she went to the police tonight was because she was being tormented."

"I hated the thought of her making your life miserable," he said softly, remembering the tear-filled morning when Christine had first met Carlotta in Italy.

"And I love you for caring about me," she said. "But from now on, unless I am in inherent danger, please, try to hold back. If we'd been separated tonight, I think I would have gone quite mad." Erik was silent. Christine still looked angry, but some of the heat had gone from her eyes.

"Erik…what exactly did you do?" And so he told her, from the hiding behind the curtains to the syrup to induce vomiting in her tea.

"I…I am sorry," he said.

"I'm not so fragile anymore," she reminded him. Her eyes more gentle now, Erik decided to take a chance.

"You can't say you were not amused," he said, and though her gaze hardened for a moment, soon, a memory of Carlotta flying from her dressing room, half in costume, no makeup, her hair in curlers for that night's performance, screaming about an enchanted hairbrush, came to mind, and, though she tried to fight it, a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. That had been the first day she began to suspect that Carlotta's superstitions had something to do with her husband once more. Then, remembering the look on the director's face at the sight of Carlotta, that smile became a full laugh.

"I wonder what will happen to her now," she said.

"I always thought that woman could do with a holiday," Erik mused, taking one of Christine's hands. With a sincere expression, he added, "I even recommended the North Pole…lovely this time of year, you know."

"Do they have the opera in the North Pole?" Christine inquired innocently.

"Now, Christine," he said, "I thought you were compassionate towards the penguins."

Christine had laughed even harder at this, so much so that the other patrons had started casting more and more pointed looks at the couple, until Erik had no choice but to gather their things, pay the bill, and escort his bride from the restaurant.

There had been no time to bring up the question that lay at the back of Erik's mind, and he'd had no desire to interrupt the ceasefire with an interrogation. Now, with the stillness of night and the quiet that comes before sleep, however short (he simply could not, not even after all this time, understand how his wife could sleep for eight hours in a stretch), the question loomed larger than before.

Erik sighed. There was no easy way to bring this up.

"Christine?"

"Mmm?" she mumbled, already half asleep. Erik considered waiting until morning to talk to her, but knew he would not be able to focus on anything else until he talked to her.

"Christine…"

"Yes?" She was more awake now, waiting for Erik to finish his question.

"Christine, are you…feeling all right?" Christine was quiet for a moment, and then she said,

"Now that you mention it, no. I mean, I've been sick quite a bit lately. I thought it was the same thing Carlotta had, until you told me about the syrup in her tea."

"Yes, well…" Erik said quietly, not wanting to get Christine upset again. "I…Christine, is there any chance you could be pregnant?"

Christine was silent.

"Christine," he pressed again, "surely you don't think I haven't noticed how tired you've been, or how sick."

"I thought that was because Carlotta was ill, though I suppose you've debunked that myth," she said. Erik paused, not wanting to get into the semantics that could lead to another fight, but also not wanting to let the matter drop.

"Christine, surely you realized something wasn't right."

"I suppose I did," she admitted. Erik tried to decide how to tactfully ask his next question, and, finding no way to approach the subject without being frank, assumed the role of a physician and asked with a clinical tone,

"Have you been experiencing your monthly…cycles?" Even as he asked it, Erik knew what her answer would be, at least as far as the last month was concerned. Normally, there were times when Christine would coyly turn Erik away from their marital pursuits, and Erik had understood what she meant. This month, he recalled, there had been no such time, something that had escaped his notice until the other signs began to appear.

Christine paused, thinking back, and remembering the same uninterrupted events, said, "No."

"Christine, why didn't you say anything?"

Christine's answer was lost in the pillow.

"Christine?" He pressed. "What was that?"

"I wasn't sure and I was worried you'd be angry," she said. "I really wasn't sure, I thought, perhaps, but then when Carlotta started getting sick that there was just something going around."

"Why did you think I would be upset?" Erik inquired, knowing that while he was worried, frightened, even, he could never be angry with Christine for something in which he had an equal hand. He wondered if Christine was worried about their child being born with a deformity or Erik leaving them alone, as he was.

"Because having a child means giving up the opera," she said simply. Erik drew back in surprise.

"My dear, is that really all that bothers you?"

"Is that all? All? Erik, the opera is my life! It's all I've known and it's all you've pushed for where I'm concerned! You've made people crazy in order to advance my career, what was I supposed to say to you? 'Hello, darling, now, don't get alarmed, but I think I may be destroying everything?'"

"Destroying everything?" Erik echoed. "Christine, if you're going to have a child, then you're going to have a child. Not telling me isn't going to change that. Besides, aren't you happy?"

"Of course I am," she said. "Now that I'm reasonably certain that's what's going on, anyway. I think having a child with you would be wonderful, but what about the opera?"

"What about it?" Erik asked. "I imagine you could go back once the baby is born." Christine recoiled.

"No one does that!" she protested. "It would create quite the scandal!" Erik merely chuckled and brought his wife to his side, pushing out the fears that were growing in his mind. If she's happy, then that's what matters…the rest will fall into place.

"Because we've never done that before," he said.