a/n Um… Yeah. I'm not exactly about the way that last chapter came out, so I'm going to attempt to reconcile it.

I'm sorry this chapter took so long to get out—you can walk backwards faster than this, I know. I'm just getting really torqued with English right now. I'm under the instruction of a grad student that wrote in an e-mail, "your chosed country." "Chosed" is a non-existent, grammatically incorrect word. Yeah. So that's what I'm dealing with.

Baba Yaga is my hero. All hail the Mighty Mussorgsky! Rock on and review!

PLEASE NOTE: If you read this before 9:00 on Wed. night, it was confusing. It has been updated. Originally Christine was going to have a conversation with Bella about an overheard fight, but I changed it. I forgot to change the names. Sorry!

CHAPTER 3—WATCHING US, WATCHING THEM

The sight of his daughter curled against her mother's warm shoulder was something that Erik thought he could watch all night. Christine's arm was wrapped around Angelique's shoulders as the girl sucked on her thumb. It was amazing how much Angelique was beginning to look like her mother. Her brown curls were unruly from sleep and he smiled as she mumbled incoherently in her sleep. A troubled look came across her face and she began to moan softly. Erik leaned down and kissed her cheek gently, whispering to her. She leaned into him, and Christine's eyes fluttered open. She blinked sleepily.

"Bad dream," he whispered.

Christine heaved a sigh and fell back onto her pillows. "I'm worried, Erik," she said quietly as Angelique snuggled closer to him. "She keeps having nightmares."

"I don't think they're nightmares," he whispered. "More like night terrors."

"There's a difference?"

"Scientifically, yes," he said. "Nightmares are more like bad dreams. They occur during a different sleep cycle. She wakes up kicking and screaming and crying." He looked down at Angelique, passing his hand over her curls. "She doesn't even know where she is or what's going on."

Looking down at the now peaceful face of their daughter, Christine heaved a sigh. "We should sleep," she murmured, stroking Angelique's hair absentmindedly. "We have Eva's anniversary tomorrow."

"Yes," he said softly. Leaning over, he placed a gentle kiss on her lips. "I love you."

"Love you."

He closed his eyes and the next thing he knew he was being jumped on by a small child. Very much awake now, Angelique was jumping on the bed between her parents. "Wake up, daddy!"

"I'm up," he muttered, reaching over and pulling a pillow over his head.

"No, Papa, get up! I want to go to the party!"

"The party isn't until tonight, darling," he heard Christine say. "Why don't you go see what Mathieu and Tristan are doing?"

The bed lurched as Angelique jumped from it, landing on the floor and racing out the door. It slammed behind her, and Christine rolled across the open space between them to curl up against her husband. "I love our children," she moaned, "but there are some mornings when I just wish they would… disappear for a few hours. Safely, of course, but still—disappear."

Chuckling, Erik played with her hair. "It's a comfort to know that I'm not the only one of us that thinks as such."

A girlish giggle escaped from her lips and she leaned up to kiss him. "We should get up. It won't be long before they're all in here."

"I suppose." Sitting up, Erik rubbed the sleep from his eyes and swung his legs over the side of the bed. It was silent for a moment before he heard piano music coming from the floor below. "Unless our son has suddenly taking a liking to Mussorgsky, I do believe Jean is here to visit."

"Which means Eva's here?"

"Or she's sent her faithful messenger."

Rising, Erik pulled on his bathrobe and a mask and headed downstairs to see his nephew. He entered the music room unnoticed by Jean, who was furiously pounding away on the Steinway at "Baba Yaga." He was reaching the end, his fingers pounding down on the keys, running from the top, down, then back up before entering the octaves and chords that formed "The Great Gates of Kiev." When he had finished, Erik applauded and Jean whipped around. He smiled sheepishly. "I didn't know anyone was listening."

"Good thing I was." Erik leaned against the doorway. "You're still good, Jean. Why did you want to become a stage manager?"

Jean shrugged. "I ask myself that sometimes." Raising his long arms over his head, he stretched. "My mother sent me to ask if you are going to want the nurse to take your children tonight, as well."

Erik considered for a minute. Nadra and Husni could be a handful on their own, and coupled with Angelique and Tristan there would likely be hell for the poor nurse. The one comfort was that she would have help for Eve from the ever quiet Mathieu; Erik would have to mention this to his youngest son. "Yes," Erik said slowly. "Yes, I would appreciate that very much."

Nodding, Jean stood up. He was very tall, and it struck Erik how handsome he had become. Gone were the chubby cheeks and baby fat that had made him such an adorable child. In their place was the strong, solid figure of a man unafraid of manual labor. His arms were muscular, the result of lifting heavy props. A white work shirt was usually stretched across his broad chest, and the hair of his chest just peaked over the top of it. The hair he had inherited from his mother was long enough to be considered roguish, which matched the boyish glint in his father's brown eyes. He had been the interest of many women at the theater, but he seemed content with what he had—a small flat above the theater where he wrote music and occasionally entertained his father's Persian ward, Zaira.

"I'll tell her," Jean said. He stretched again and smiled. "I suppose it'll be a nice break for you and Aunt Christine, having the night off from all those kids."

"Almost all," Erik replied. "Gustave is escorting Isabella tonight."

Eyebrows shot up on his nephew. "In public?"

"Yes."

"There will be a few members of high society there."

"As long as they're not French," Erik said, "I don't give a damn."

Jean burst out laughing. "I understand they're mostly Germans, Austrians, and a few Slovaks."

Erik smiled. "Those I can deal with." Heaving a sigh, Erik pushed away from the doorframe. "I don't suppose Eva expects me to wear a suit, does she?"

"Not only a suit," Jean said, smirking, "she requests that you wear a tuxedo with tails. You know, like the old days."

Erik looked over his shoulder to make sure that none of the children were there to hear. As far as all of them knew, none of the Dussek children, except for Jean, knew that Erik had once been the Phantom of the Opera. The legend was faded, now, so much that he believed that he could return to France and not be shot at. It was still there, however, albeit blown out of proportion. According to reports, Erik's entire face was a disaster—a rotting corpse hung over a skeleton. Erik would not take offence to this at all except that, supposed, it wasn't just his face that was revolting—apparently he had thin skin that just covered his skeleton. This annoyed him—he had always prided himself on his body. He was nearing sixty and could still sweep his wife off her feet and swing his daughters in circles. Granted, there was more arthritis in his knees than there had been before, but with Eva's natural remedies, he usually felt very little pain.

"I see," he said softly. "I'll be sure to find my gloves."

Jean chuckled again and walked through the door. "Six o'clock?"

"Of course."

Jean left, and Erik watched him go. He could never bear to tell the boy what a waste of God given talent it had been for him to quit performing, but there was no denying that his current position paid much better than his old. Jean had mentioned wanting to start a family before much longer, but he wanted to have a small amount of money before even thinking of truly courting Zaira.

Erik was jolted from his thoughts by a soft hand on his arm. He turned to see Christine standing behind him, wrapped in a dressing gown and wearing a small smile. Leaning down, he placed a soft kiss on her lips. "Breakfast?" she asked.

"Certainly." Smirking, he grasped her waist and walked her into the music room, locking the door behind her as she giggled.

The rest of the day went by in a hectic blur. The process of getting three small children bathed and dressed for Eva and Nadir's party proved exactly what it had in the past—hellish. Erik tried his best to stay out from underfoot of his wife, but was quickly shoved in the bedroom to dress. He dressed slowly, not wanting to have to leave the safety of the bedroom. When he had finished with everything, sans his jacket and mask, he looked in the mirror. He grimaced at the sight of his own face and had just moved to turn away when the door opened and his wife entered. She smiled at him. "You look handsome."

"Don't fool yourself, my dear," he said darkly, glancing at the masks on the vanity. "Black or white?"

Christine shook her head. "I'm not going to tell you which one of those… those things to put on." She turned away and walked into the closet.

As much as he loved his wife, she still had the ability to make him crazy. She despised his masks enough as it was—that he sometimes wore them at home only served to annoy her further. Tonight, it was most definitely a necessity, but she still seemed bitter about it. Heaving a sigh, he turned away from the mirror and the vanity and walked into the closet.

Christine was attempting to lace herself into a corset, and Erik took the laces from her fidgeting fingers and began to tie them for her. She didn't speak, but bent over to lean against a chair. "I've never been able to do it myself," she said quietly.

"I know." Erik pulled the laces tighter at the bottom and tied them so that they would not be noticeable through her dress. She winced as he pulled the stays tighter, and he glanced at her in the full length mirror. "Sorry."

Straightening up, Christine reached back to pull his hands forward and wrap his arms around her waist. Leaning back into his chest, she closed her eyes and sighed deeply. "I'm sorry," she said suddenly.

"Don't be." Erik pressed his lips against her temple. "I love you."

"Love you more." Smiling, Christine turned in his arms to kiss him before she stepped away to pull her dress off of its stand. Not having seen it yet, Erik examined the dress with his critical eye. It was deep red and fitted to her bosom tightly. After giving birth to five children, and she was no longer so frail looking. While she was far from being fat, she was much curvier than she had been when Gustave was born. The thought of their children saddened Erik as a random thought came to his mind. Something of it must have shown on his face because Christine put a hand on his arm, looking up into his face with concern. "Are you alright?"

"I was just thinking," he said quietly.

"About what?"

"Nothing."

Putting a gentle hand on his face, Christine turned his head to force him to look at her. "What's wrong?"

"I was just thinking about.." He turned away from Christine. "Is it strange that I still think of her?"

"No," she said, softly. "I do. I think about her everyday. I think about her every time I look at the children. There hasn't been a day when I haven't wondered what it would be like if she were here."

A sad smile crossed Erik's face. "Louder, undoubtedly. She was beautiful."

"She was."

Just as none of their children knew of Erik's past, none of them knew or remembered Mary. Several months before they had married, Christine had again become pregnant. She had only had Gustave two months before, and her divorce was in its final bitter stages with Raoul's mother calling constantly to berate Christine and her intended for their bastard child. There had been times when Christine had been so upset that she had fainted. Christine gave birth just after their marriage after seven months to a tiny baby girl. The doctor had not expected Mary to live for long, but Erik and Christine named and nursed her in any case. It was not long before a simple cold took their daughter away from them, and Christine had slipped into a depression the likes of which Erik had never seen her in.

Now, so many years later, Erik was standing in a darkened room with his arms wrapped around his wife's shaking shoulders. She pulled away, wiping her face on the backs of her hands. Erik handed her his handkerchief and she dried her eyes before managing a smile. "Ready to go?"

Erik nodded and turned to go collect the children. Within minutes, the family had crowded into the carriage and was on the way to Eva's. Gustave had long since departed, so Erik and Christine were left with their youngest three. Christine sat between her sons with Tristan looking out of the window and Mathieu, already tired, leaning his head against his mother's shoulder. Erik sat with Angelique, who was wearing a frilly pink party dress and nearly bouncing with excitement.

"Calm down, bel ange." Gently restraining Angelique with a hand on her shoulder he smiled weakly at Christine. She was running her hair through Mathieu's hair, and she smiled back at him. The carriage jolted to a stop and the door swung open. Erik braced himself and climbed out before Christine to help her down. When she was out, the carriage took off, and Erik looked up at the enormous house before him with a heavy sigh.

"Let's go," he said heavily, and Christine laughed again.

As it usually was for these things, the front door was wide open and the butler was ushering people inside, announcing dignitaries and aristocrats. As Erik and Christine neared with the children, the man turned and announced the presence of the Count and Countess Dusek. They were barely in the door when Nadra and Husni attacked their uncle and aunt. Little Nadra attached herself to Erik's leg and Husni began to pull on Christine's hand. Erik scooped up his niece and hoisted her onto his shoulders. She giggled and said, "We escaped, Uncle Erik!"

"I noticed," he said dryly. Right on cue, the harassed looking nurse appeared from a side door.

"Nadra! Husni! Get back here this instant!" The woman smiled apologetically at Erik and Christine. "I'm so sorry," she said breathlessly. "It's just that they heard your name and—"

"I understand," Christine said kindly. "Would you please be so kind as to take our three as well?"

"Certainly, Countess," the nurse said. "Come along, children, and we'll go see what we can see."

Angelique held out her arms to her father and Erik lifted her into his arms. "Be good, won't you?"

"Yes, papa." Angelique kissed his cheek and smiled for him, then leaned backward for a kiss from her mother. Smiling, Christine dropped a kiss on the girl's forehead and Erik set her down. She scampered after the nurse, followed by an enthusiastic Tristan. Mathieu hung back slightly, looking dejectedly up at his parents.

"Do I have to go? I would much rather go to the music room."

Glancing to make sure that the other two had gone, Erik knelt before his son. "Do you promise to behave?"

"Yes, papa."

"And if you leave you will go straight to the nurse?"

"Yes, papa."

Erik smiled. "Then yes, you may go to the music room."

A rare, brilliant smile spread across the boy's solemn face and he hugged his father's leg briefly before taking off for the music room. Christine's arm slipped through his, and they began to cross the room toward Eva and Nadir, who were, to Erik's dismay, speaking with the de Chagnys, who turned when they stopped beside the little group.

Sonia de Chagny looked as resplendent as always, but there was something written on her face that Erik could not decipher. It almost looked as if she was upset about something, but Erik could not really tell. The smile on her face seemed forced, and there was a slightly nervous look on Eva's face. When Raoul saw them, he gave Erik a curt nod. Erik nodded back before wrapping his arms around his sister's shoulders.

"Happy anniversary, crazy."

"Thanks." Eva smiled up at him. "How are you?"

"I am no longer in charge of my children for the night," he said. "How do you think?"

"I'm doing good, too."

Erik laughed and hugged her again. Reaching around her, he shook the hand of his oldest friend. "I see you're still tied down to this one, Nadir."

"Yes, I am." Nadir wrapped a loving arm around his wife's waist. "And I have no complaints."

Out of the corner of his eye, Erik noticed Sonia do something odd. She jerked her head toward the door, looking at Christine. Not wanting to draw attention to them, Erik continued to talk to Nadir, while watching Sonia out of the corner of his eye. After a moment, Christine seemed to see and said suddenly, "Sonia, do you have that book for me?"

"Yes!" She grasped Christine's arm and all but dragged her from the hall. Raoul watched his wife leave with an odd look on his face. He looked as if he would be sick, and he excused himself without reason.

"I need a moment, as well, my dear," Erik said, kissing Eva's cheek. "I need to go use the toilet."

"Very eloquent, Erik," she said dryly, but her eyes were suspicious and Erik could feel them following him from the room. It did not take long to locate Christine and Sonia. They were indeed in the library but it seemed to have nothing to do with literature. Silently, Erik slipped in the door and hid himself behind a shelf.

"I don't know what to do, Christine," Sonia was saying. "He's just… I don't even know."

This was indeed odd. As far as he knew, Christine and Sonia were merely civil with each other. It made sense—Sonia had, after all, bedded Christine's husband and given birth to his daughter. Now, however, they were sitting closely on the couch with Sonia's dainty hand clutching Christine's. Tears were running down the blonde diva's face as she looked down at her lap.

"But what's wrong, Sonia?"

"He's…" Sonia looked up and out of the window. "There's a girl in Venice—a friend of my family's. She's been visiting for the last few weeks and she's been acting odd."

"Odd how?"

"It's…" A shaky breath cut into Sonia's words. "She's all light and happy, almost as if she's in love, and I asked her what has her so happy. We've known each other for years—ever since she got old enough to start having intelligent conversations. She confides in me, Christine, and she won't tell me what's happening in her life."

"Maybe it's personal."

"Or a secret."

There was a pause, and the tension between the two women was heavy in the air. "A secret?"

Sonia's head snapped toward Christine. Her face was angry, now, all traces of sadness gone from it. "I came home from town the other day," she said slowly. "I came back early because Bella was not going to come home until later and Gustave was bringing her. I went upstairs to tell Raoul I was home, but he wasn't in his study. I thought he'd gone to take a nap, so I went to check the bedroom. When I went to open the door, I heard something inside and I pressed my ear to the door and…"

She trailed off, and the anger drained from her face again as she broke down entirely.

Dread was heavy in Christine's voice when she asked, "Sonia, what happened?"

"They were in there," she said hysterically. "They were together in our bed, Christine! Making love in our bed!"

Christine's face hardened with cold fury. "Does he know that you heard?"

"I—I don't think so," Sonia choked. "I sent her away but I said it was because her parents sent for her." Her sobs doubled and she began to hyperventilate. Christine's face looked panicked now, and Erik knew that she was at a loss for what to do. It would not be long before the loss of oxygen would cause Sonia to faint, and that would most certainly raise questions. If he was going to intervene, now was the time.

Stepping out from behind the bookcase, Erik crossed the room to the couch in two long strides and grasped Sonia's arms. Pulling her up against his chest, he pressed his hand against hers, murmuring, "Breathe with me, Sonia. Deep breaths, now. Breathe with me."

Christine stared at him with a look registering shock, annoyance, and sheer relief on her face. She held tighter to Sonia's hand, saying, "You have to calm down now, Sonia. Everything will be fine. Just breathe."

After several minutes, Sonia's breathing returned to normal and she slumped, exhausted, back into Erik's chest. Tears were still flowing down her face as Christine enveloped her in her arms. None of them spoke for a long time. Christine rocked Sonia back and forth while Erik ran a comforting hand over the woman's back. In a voice that was barely audible Sonia said, "I'm sorry, Christine."

Confused, Christine looked down at Sonia. "For what?"

"For… you know."

Christine smiled. "It's alright, Sonia," she said gently. "I owe you for that."

There was a knock at the door and a waiter stuck his head in. "There you are Comtess de Chagny!" Before any of them could stop him, he turned and called, "I found her, sir! She's here in the library." The waiter stepped out to be replaced by Raoul.

"Where have you been?" he asked. "I've been looking all over for—"

"Christine needed a book!" Sonia said.

Raoul looked confused. "But this is Eva's house."

"I know," Sonia said, her voice rising in pitch. "I loaned it to her and now Christine wants it!"

Erik and Christine looked at each other and, as one, rose from the couch and left the room, shutting the door and telling the waiter not to allow anyone in the library except for the owners of the house. They then returned to the main hall, where the crowd of guests had increased somewhat.

For the rest of the evening, neither of them spoke of what had happened in the library. They had received odd looks, but no questions, from Eva and Nadir. No one else seemed to have noticed anything, other than the de Chagneys seemed to have left early. Isabella had given them a questioning look and Christine knew that the girl knew nothing of her father's affair, which she supposed was good.

The night could not have dragged on longer for Erik, and it was near midnight before Christine was ready to go. With the aid of Jean, Erik and Christine loaded their younger two children into the carriage. Gustave followed in the other carriage with Tristan, who was still bouncing off the walls—Isabella had insisted on riding home with her parents. The entire way, Erik cradled Angelique in his arms while she slept, breathing deeply, her brown curls a mess from roughhousing. Mathieu was leaning against Christine's side, eyes closed, while she ran her fingers through his ash brown hair. She smiled sleepily across at her husband. "Interesting evening," she said softly.

"It certainly was."

Christine heaved a sigh. "What do you think will happen?"

"I don't know," he said quietly. "Although we know what happened last time."

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, a sly smile crossed Christine's face. "She isn't with anyone else, though."

"True." Erik looked out of the window, and found that he felt sorry for Sonia de Chagny. "She should have realized how unwise it is to marry a man having an extramarital affair. They're more likely to be unfaithful."

"I was never unfaithful to you, though," Christine said.

"I know," he said. An equally sly smile crossed his face. "Why would you feel the need to?"

"I feel the need for you."

"Careful, Christine. We wouldn't want the children to wake up."

When he looked back at her, she smiled for him, and they were silent, basking in the glory of their blissfully silent children for the rest of the ride home.

a/n Yeah—I'm not a Raoul fan. I'm uber sorry this took so long. I'm having some issues with English right now, so bear with me as I tough it out. I hope you all liked this chapter! I'm not going to make any promises as to when the next one will come out, and I know how much I hate to wait on people to do updates, so I'll do what I did with this one—five minutes… How much can I write in five minutes? ;)

In the meantime, you should check out The First Last Kiss by Wandering Child. It's my current addiction, and it's FAN-FREAKIN'-TASTIC. An exclamation point at the end of that sentence would not have done it justice, it's so great.

Reviews are fabulous! I like reviews! They pressure me…