A/N: Happy Belated Valentine's Day. I meant to post this yesterday, but had no such luck.


Nadir stood at the window, watching as his wife lingered on the front steps. Their driver was always on time, even for her late night escapades, and he'd yet to fail her at seven in the evening on Friday's. Not that one would consider that hour particularly late, but when not being escorted by her husband, it did feel a tad indiscrete.

She swept down the stairs, getting in without assistance, leaving as quickly as the car had come without even a glance towards the house.

He sighed, if he was unable to prevent her from going then he liked to watch her leave. It was self torture of the most exquisite kind. Of course, this meant there was no sleep for him, so he turned from the view of the empty driveway and headed downstairs towards his study.

The figure standing in the corner tsked, however, making Nadir jump out of his skin if not for the recognizable sound.

"You nearly scared me half to death, Erik."

"That would never be my intention, then where would I be employed?"

Nadir scoffed, moving towards the hallway, knowing his shadow was bound to follow.

"And what do you have to say?"

"You shouldn't let her liaison out into the night like that."

"Stop using nouns as verbs, Erik, you drive me mad," Nadir said, attempting to keep the subject on anything else. Not to mention the infuriating man hadn't gathered the correct meaning of the word either.

"Forgive me, my native tongue is French, as you know. I am merely suggesting that you should throw your fist down at these tasteless occurrences. She is your wife!"

They'd made it halfway down the stairs, and he faltered on one of the steps, gripping the banister as though it was the neck of whomever she was meeting.

"I know that."

His short response did not please Erik.

"All I am saying is that you should ask more of the Madame Khan."

"Mrs. Khan is simply-" Nadir knew exactly what she went out to do on these evenings, or so he assumed, for he had long ago asked the girl she was supposed to be visiting if his wife had come around. The poor thing hadn't even talked to her friend in a few weeks, and all of his suspicions came to light with a harsh slash to his heart.

It wasn't that they married for love and this was some torrid, unexpected hurt to him, but it wasn't exactly meaningless. Not to him, anyways.

"She is young, and I would never begrudge her any freedom."

"Ah, yes, what a very liberal concept."

Nadir continued down the stairs, ignoring Erik. The man was lanky and followed in near silence, except for his loose jaw which always seemed to have things to say… when Mrs. Khan wasn't home, that is. He knew Erik did not like her or her escapades.

"Let her be, it's bad enough she has no family to speak of, nor anything else to hold onto. I love her enough for the both of us, and that will have to be enough... for you and me."

Nadir sat at his desk, releasing the pent up air from the conversation, noting with slight amusement that Erik lingered in the doorway, seemingly caught up in the fact that this did hurt him too. He felt smug knowing he'd finally gotten his point across, but the hurt he felt from the conversation clung to the air.

"I… understand. She can have her friends, but is it too much to ask for fealty?"

"And why should I?" Nadir couldn't look at Erik. The man had been working for him since forever, but this rebuttal was unusual. Well, he took that back, the outright accusing of it was aggressive, the diction not so much. "We sleep in the same room, I basically stole her from her cradle. Whatever exploring I was afforded before my marriage, she certainly never was. Besides, I don't even know what she's truly doing. We could be angry for no reason."

Erik huffed and began to pace in reply. The man was such a peculiar one, and despite Nadir being able to claim he was his friend, it was still hard to puzzle him out. Why this bothered him so much was curious.

"Why does this bother you, Erik?"

At first, he was left with no answer. A shrug, then he stopped pacing and looked at Nadir with a face that was far more sincere than he'd seen it in days of their youth. The half of it he could see, anyways.

"I merely want better for you, old friend."

Nadir let all of his tension fall, and for once the absence of his wife wasn't the heaviest thing on his shoulders.

"We don't talk of her much since I know your distaste for my bride. But you know as well as I that she asked me for this. It was her proposal. The marriage, my having her. She had nothing else, and I already adored her… I wish it had taken more than just her batting her eyelashes, but it didn't."

"Her father had just died, Nadir, and while I do not doubt your… positive qualities I can't imagine she was in her right mind," Erik added, keeping his distance.

"She wasn't a child, though. Part of her wanted this, I know that." Nadir breathed out the fury that had come up in him, he'd promised himself when they'd married this wouldn't ever bother him. The tears in his eyes were a lot harder to fight off.

Erik nodded, the succinct movement bringing an end to his pacing.

"I'm sorry."

If they were any other pair of friends they might have embraced just then.

"She had no one. I did what I had, and honestly wanted, to do."

"The Mrs. Khan is a lonely woman, but no one might be an exaggeration-"

"Erik," Nadir scolded, wanting not to think of the concept that she could very well be lying with another man. He said it didn't bother him, sure, but his skin crawled, and well, the idea was displeasing.

"Yes, yes, but you know she has friends, at least. Have you checked to see if she's actually visited the other girl recently?"

"Meg? No, her mother answered last I called, and I hadn't the heart to ask and give my reasons for calling. The girl was at ballet practice, apparently she is to be Prima Ballerina soon."

Erik raised his eyebrows.

"Interesting."

Considering this was the most interest Erik had ever given into his wife, Nadir felt very willing to share. He loved her, for heaven's sake.

"They did ballet together for a while. In school."

"Ah, the Mrs. Khan is an artist. Why aren't I surprised?"

"Christine, Erik. You can call her by her name."

Nadir felt her name on his lips, however, and didn't like it anymore than he did hearing it off of Erik's.

"Christine, then, doesn't know what she has. I hope she learns before it's too late."

Training his eyes on his friend, Nadir asked, "And what is that supposed to mean?"

Erik shook his head.

"Nothing. If you don't outlive me, I will be very displeased, Persian."

Nadir huffed, and kept the reply that it was now Iran tucked away.

"Sounds like a deal."

Nodding like a deal had actually been made, Erik left the room, seeming to have done all of his business for the evening. He would probably go out to patrol the house or whatever it was he did that kept them all safe. Yet no matter how pesky he proved himself to be, the masked man was effective and discrete. What more could he ask for?

Nothing really proved to be a threat since they'd left his home country years prior, but a place like that didn't leave your blood. Maybe that was the reason they both assumed Christine was defiling their vows. He need not be so on-edge any longer.

A little less worried at the thought, he let out a vicious yawn and decided to attempt sleep that lonely Friday night.


Erik was perturbed that his job had altered that Friday evening, but his curiosity got the better of him and made him accept Nadir's inane proposition.

He drove Christine to town under the premise of an old Iranian 'friend' being spotted in New York, and simply wanting her safer than usual. She was either naïve enough to believe it (Erik's preferred belief), or bold enough not to care what he found out (Erik's logical conclusion).

The woman was so quiet, as opposed to his own usual penchant for chatting. It had been a skill developed when he learned how hypnotic his voice was. If people could listen to him for even a second, then there was a good chance they'd avoid asking about his mask or being uncomfortable around it. However with this woman he certainly did not like, Erik was doing his best to keep his mouth shut.

A question slipped from his lips when he looked back and saw her blank stare from the window as they traveled. He kept driving hoping she hadn't heard it.

Of course, no such luck.

"What?"

Erik had heard Christine speak plenty of times, but each time he forgot how much he hated it. She had the kind of voice that blonde dolls like her usually had. Airy, and completely void of anything other than a copy of what Marilyn Monroe produced.

"Nothing, Mrs. Khan."

He attempted to ignore her presence in the back seat from there on, her fidgeting and constant stare out the window making it even easier. He needn't see behind him anyways.

Nadir had wanted him to get information, and while talking hadn't been the plan, Erik wondered if anything would come up voluntarily from her little mouth. His ears wouldn't stand it, though, and his original idea of spying would just have to do.

If the little chit wanted to cheat on her husband, then so be it. Nadir was aware, or aware she was at least lying, and that was enough for him. He hated to be in the middle, and he hated even more to allow Nadir to be hurt, but the old man could handle himself at this point in his life.

Christine got out at her usual destination of the restaurant, where Erik, in all his masked glory, could not possibly wish to enter without suspicion. He settled for parking and watching her make her exit with a man soon after her entrance. It had barely been ten minutes.

He was blonde like her, only slightly darker and without the tight curls hers possessed. Blue eyes equally as bright, and roughly a foot above her, this man was certainly only a boy pretending at adulthood. The stubble on his face no doubt was permanently short like that, never threatening to grow another millimeter, but Erik took more notice of the cigarettes in his pocket. Gross things, at least Nadir refrained from them, even if only as a part of his religion.

In France they were as common as air, just like here.

Nadir hadn't ever mentioned her coming back smelling like smoke.

He followed them to a motel, where the boy paid, and they went in, on the ground floor. He lost them to the room, but not until he bought one for himself next to theirs, stopping at their door to listen while the lot was empty.

There was giggling from Nadir's wife, then, with glee, "Raoul!"

So that was the boy's name?

They were doing… something though he wasn't sure quite what. Their voices were mostly made of laughter, and for his own sake he hoped they were simply telling one another ludicrous jokes.

The noise quieted, as did their voices, and he was able to catch no less for the evening. A pair of headlights turned into the motel as he unlocked his door and slipped inside out of the summer night.

When it came past midnight, Erik threw his curtains open and cringed at the shrill noise that came from metal on metal. The rings had scraped against their holdings. His poor ears. He missed his piano at the manor, where in the late evenings, he would play as the house did quiet work and the Master and Mistress slept.

The exact sound came from his right, and he had to wonder which of the two young adults it was that craved the admittedly lackluster view.

Erik decided to play shadow, and went out into the night to catch a glimpse of who was in the room.

Stark against the night was Christine in her white chemise, and though her hair was relatively the way she'd left it when heading into the restaurant, Erik suspected the activities he assumed had happened, did not. Her skin was flush, and if he had any guess it was cold in there. Did the boy at least not have the courtesy to warm her if he was going to steal her from her husband?

Erik checked his rage and went back in, the shadows clinging poorly as street lamps flickered.

At least for tonight, Nadir could rest well knowing his bride had not been disheveled by another man… or boy.

Pretending to pick her up in the morning from around the corner of Meg Giry's residence was a stint. She'd called a cab to the corner, then waited out in the cold, dewy morning for him.

She got in, silent as a lamb.

Erik brought her back and vowed to never involve himself in their affairs again. But he also warned Nadir just because he didn't hear or see anything incriminating, did not mean the deed did not go undone. And Nadir did not thank him for this warning, merely cursed him out of the room, half heartedly.


Christine wasn't sure what she was doing at the Blue Moon Motel that Friday night, but she knew it was going to be the last time.

Nadir was sick, bed-ridden sick, and it had come over the house like a tidal wave. Either her or their head of security was with him at all times, and all staff were on alert with the help of the permanent doctor taking up residence there now. It was currently not her turn, and that made her worry. The one who's turn it was balked when she left, and her shame had kept her from telling Marcus to turn the car around, for she couldn't imagine looking at that mask for any longer than necessary.

Raoul needed to know this would be it anyways.

She couldn't meet him anymore, couldn't let him play at having her. They weren't even doing anything, but quite obviously God was punishing her anyways. Nadir might not make it out of the next week alive, and if just the simple lying of who she was seeing made her beloved husband have to endure this, then comforting a childhood friend wasn't worth it.

It was just that Raoul knew her father young and vibrant. He'd heard the same stories and sung the same songs as she for those few years they were in Sweden. Then they'd come to the states without him, and her heart had broken. She grew out of it, Nadir became friends with her father and then just as dear to her. The men were roughly the same age with Nadir a little on the younger side… and very attractive.

Physically attracted to him as any woman might be, he'd been a good choice for preservation of life after her father died. They hadn't been wealthy, her and her father, so marrying Nadir and moving into a Manor had been the shock of her lifetime. Christine did her best not take advantage and stay out of people's ways, but of course not everyone could take to her kindly.

The man currently watching over her husband was the only one she hadn't won over.

Conveniently, he'd been on a trip to France for several months when their marriage had taken place, and so him coming back with distaste for her had bitten hard.

She'd run into Raoul and started reacquainting herself with him the same week their head of security had returned. Christine knew Nadir lived a completely different life where he was from, that people might one day begrudge them and attempt them harm, but the most threatening thing about their lives the past few years had been Master Muhlheim. He always seemed ready to pounce.

Shivering at the thought of his glare alone, Raoul opening the bathroom door startled her.

"I'm sorry, Lottie."

"It's alright," she whispered.

Rubbing his hands of excess water, he went to reach for her, but her step back seemed to finally clue him in to her discomfort.

"Raoul… I have to go. I can't be here tonight."

His eyes were soft as he asked her if everything was alright.

"Nadir is sick."

Her sadness threatened her again, the threshold of holding herself together nearly fell.

"Do you want help?"

"No, I've really got to go. I do. I should be there with him, not doing whatever it is we do together."

He huffed, and she looked up through the tears to see his face poorly hiding anger.

"We don't do anything, Christine."

"I know, but I can't even do this anymore. I need to move on from my father, and you need to understand I can't ever be yours. I felt badly for you, that someone you loved was just out of reach, but really, I'm not all that special, and I don't love you. I'm sorry."

Having gotten it all out and even feeling better than when she'd gotten there, Christine left the motel room and rushed to the street, hailing a cab out of town as fast as a flash of her diamond wristlet allowed her. When she used to get cabs with her father it would take her a few tries.

The car rattled up her stone driveway at a pace no faster than a snail, causing her a great deal of stress as she looked at her home. Nadir was in there, suffering, and she couldn't help but to blame herself.

Finally bringing her to the steps, she took them two at a time and slipped off her shoes right at the door, the heels clattering in the empty foyer as she rushed upstairs.

Christine composed herself before entering her bedroom. While she patted down her dress, however, she heard the soft conversation from within, meaning Nadir was awake at this late hour. It was only a bit after nine, but he still needed to be sleeping not chatting.

Unable to begrudge him any happiness, she slipped the door open and looked in, her heart stopping at what she saw.

The usual white visage of their head of security was now skin, albeit if it wasn't an apt description. It was quite the sight, and she was pretty sure part of his skull was visible under the combed-over part of his thick-black hair. Is that why he wore the mask? Christine had never imagined he suffered so, and some part of her understood Nadir's fierce protection and the man's sand-paper demeanor now.

It was good he hadn't seen her, for she closed the door and attempted to adjust to the sight before they noticed her presence. Both men looked happy, content, and she didn't want to ruin it by having barged in. Although it was nice to see her husband sitting up and looking better.

God was rewarding her and testing her all at once.

This time Christine knocked, waiting until they told her to enter.

Their shocked faces almost made her falter.

"Christine!"

"Hello there," she replied gracefully, setting down as many of her things as she could before rushing to sit with him on their bed, looking briefly at the now masked-man.

"I feel a little better," he said with a grin. "The pain is very low."

"Oh, that's lovely. You didn't get into any trouble while I was gone?"

"No," he chuckled, tenderly grasping her face before something flashed in his eyes, and he reigned himself in. "Erik."

"Yes?"

That man's voice was golden, unlike something Christine had ever heard before, and even living with him now, she hardly heard it.

"I think I'll be okay for the night, will you be?"

"Mhm, don't worry over me, old man. Get rest, the doctor went to bed, so should you," Erik said, his posture stiff as he stood up and regarded her warily.

"Have a goodnight, Mr. Muhlheim."

All she saw in response was his eyes move, then Nadir spoke up to break the silence. "I'll take my wife straight to bed then, so off you go, Erik."

Christine felt her cheeks go red and her stomach warmed, while all the masked-man replied with was a low hum and the shut of their bedroom door.

Nadir kissed her, his hand on her neck warm from being in the bed, but otherwise normal. He'd been so clammy that morning.

"Did I embarrass you terribly?"

"No, I'm just a little worried about you is all. Are you sure you're up to these things?"

"Well, I think me being up to it, is your job, my sweet."

Christine giggled nuzzling into an embrace. He still smelled the same as he did when she first met him, even sick like he was. Exotic spices and the prominent hint of cinnamon, and the fresh addition of soap meaning he bathed in the couple of hours she was gone.

Moving herself a bit to his left, she let her hands drift and her lips caress his neck. Her husband hummed in a happy way as his hands gripped her sides.

"Why'd you come back?"

"I shouldn't have left in the first place," she said softly in reply. Lifting his silken night shirt from the bottom she used the distraction to work a little harder on his neck.

"Christine…" his voice hovered as she touched him, a question unasked.

Not daring to let go of him or stop her ministrations, she looked up to meet his eye.

"I love you."

Often it went unsaid, and even now it wasn't what he'd wanted to say to her. She could tell, it happened between them so often. But he was getting better, maybe they could start sharing things in the future, maybe they could have fights and passionate evenings to make up for it like other couples. Not to say she was discontent with the easiness, but they'd fallen into such a plain existence, occasionally the rest of it that came with real love seemed exciting.

For now, this was all the excitement he needed.

Putting one leg over his, she straddled him and looked into his eyes before telling him she loved him too.


The day of the funeral was harder than Erik expected it to be. Nadir had made him a promise! He shouldn't be in this ridiculous all-black suit that felt more like chains than the fine Italian fabrics it actually was. Nor should he be pacing a hole in the floor of the receiving room, where others dressed in equally as egregious mourning clothes rambled about how they knew him. No, the only person who knew Nadir at all was him. His chest heaving, though putting on an outward front of finality, Erik covered up his grief best he could. Most here considered him staff anyways, so he kept everything he felt on the inside.

Christine was not doing so well, however.

She had been crying since the doctor declared him beyond this world. It had to be impossible the amount of tears this girl had come up with, yet they still came as she sat in her home, watching people pass by, the occasional brave one wishing her condolences. Poor young girl, was passed around like an insult, and for Nadir's honor alone Erik felt fury burn his bones.

She didn't need pity, and his friend didn't need the posthumous slandering.

He tried to check his rage, he really did. But how could she possibly sit there and act as though her world was gone when she lied and went away for hours on end as though her heart didn't have a care in the world?

Erik lasted the whole wake and each 'I'm sorry for your loss' until he blew up on her.

Well, it was reserved, for respect to the deceased.

"May I ask why you weep?"

She looked up at him as though he'd just asked to screw her on her husband's grave.

"Why I weep? My husband, your friend, is dead, and you ask why I weep?"

The scoff was unsuspected, for Erik had never heard her give any type of refusal or aghast comment before. In fact, he avoided her at most costs so he didn't hear anything from her at all.

"Well, you certainly never treated him as such."

"I-" Her jaw was slack, and words slurred, but that did not deter him.

"You what, Madame? Are you sorry he passed? Your own husband? Sorry you'll have to fill his spot with another? I'm sure you're so broken, that you just already have the spot filled so as to not be lonely anymore. That boy you've been fraternizing with for instance? Raoul."

Christine began to breathe erratically. Erik would have felt bad, but getting all of this off his chest was cathartic.

"Raoul? He's… I know he knew something, but I didn't think… Nadir thought I laid with Raoul?"

"You lie so poorly."

"I don't!" She screeched and stood from her chair, pacing now. "I'm a terrible liar! The fact he thought I was with someone else, that I was defiling our vows… I would never, could never-"

Christine turned on him, then grasped his lapels with a shocking strength, strength fueled by grief, he assumed. "You must believe me. I never laid in Raoul's bed, I would never hurt Nadir in that way. I could never. He was so kind and loved me so dearly… tell me he didn't believe that, please. Tell me you believe me, too."

The earnest tone in her rattled Erik.

This woman was not lying. He would've seen it, felt it, if she had been. He didn't know what to do but think back on all the times Nadir brushed away Erik's fears, not to mention how much he himself wanted to be right about her just to protect his friend.

"He wanted to believe you," he muttered out, knowing it was what he'd chosen, especially that night she'd come only a little while after leaving a couple weeks ago. Nadir had been crushed she'd gone at all, that she even considered it, and then the way his face had lit up when she knocked and came through the door… Erik couldn't deny him the fantasy she might be faithful.

"And you?"

Why he mattered was of no importance, but then again, he was the one living.

"I do…" it was hesitant, but that was the best she would get for now.

"That poor man, and now he rests not really knowing…"

She broke into tears again, and if it weren't for the fact she was right on top of him, Erik would have let her fall to the floor. However, his arms simply caught her and gently held her. Weighing almost nothing to him, Erik found himself in the position of holding her for quite a long stretch of time. They were to be confined in this home alone together for as long as it took her to find a husband who would inevitably want him out, and the thought scared him. Sure, he could pass her off to the staff and let them deal with her, but that might be inhumane now that he knew the truth.

Part of Erik regretted putting the idea in Nadir's head at all, but it was nothing that hadn't been growing there in the first place. And wherever he was now, he knew the truth, for if Christine wasn't going to believe in the afterlife for someone so righteous as Nadir, then he supposed he would.

Christine's cries subsided eventually, but she came out worse for wear from it. One of the cooks came and brought her water upon his request, and after a sizeable amount was downed in pure silence, she looked more healthy if not happier.

"Why don't you rest for the evening?"

"I should," she remarked lowly, "And you will keep the grounds safe?"

"As I always do," he reassured her.

His job was easy, actually. Nothing ever came to threaten their safety, but if it made her feel better after what he'd put her through, then he was willing to say anything.

Escorting her up to Nadir's old room, Erik wished her well and proceeded to his rounds, wishing for his friend as much as he figured Christine might be doing in their bed.


It was a few weeks later after Nadir's death, and Erik was slowly recovering from the absence through an excessive use of his piano. The keys had never seen such wear, but there was not much else to do if no games of chess could take place, nor business deals to squabble over. All of Nadir's assets were being handled by his lawyer, and Christine had earned a lump sum to keep possibly even her grand-children afloat in the coming years.

Though, that would assume she remarried.

Erik found it much less of a possibility since she'd stopped visiting Raoul. Christine did not leave the house, nor did she have any communication with anyone bar the little ballerina Meg. The girl had come to visit and was thoroughly intrigued by him, causing him to run to the hills before she could inquire further.

The visit had made the poor girl happy, but mostly she moped around the manor like a melancholy cat.

She was silent as one too, because he did not notice her in the doorway to the piano room until he finished a piece and stretched his back and neck.

"Madame Khan," he greeted her, nodding his head slightly.

"Erik," she replied, sounding rather tired. It was pretty late, though he hadn't exactly looked at a clock recently. Hell, he was running by candlelight now when there was perfectly good electricity.

"What are you doing up?"

"I'm a grown woman, I can do as I please. Your music sounded far too wonderful this time to ignore."

She walked into the room, though hovered just a few steps in.

Erik sighed. "It's Mozart for now. Are you familiar with music at all? I know you danced..." he ended awkwardly.

"I am quite acquainted with it, my father was a musician."

He hadn't known that, in fact, he knew nothing about her father despite the fact that Nadir respected him greatly and regarded him as a fantastic friend.

"He taught me music, though I was abominable at instruments. I liked singing the best, even after my training in dance," she admitted reluctantly, as though the fact hurt. He imagined if there was someone fond in his past who had taught him something, he would be protective over the talent as well.

Though, it did pique his interest to find that she had musical background. He did love the opera or two when he could escape to the city and become lost in the voices. Erik wondered if she was any good.

"Would you like to sing?" He asked quickly, startling her out of her reverie.

"I haven't sung since my wedding." Christine's smile was hollow, and she glanced down to her hands which was a mess of threaded fingers.

Erik didn't blame her for being shy about it. She was twice scorned with the talent now, not to mention their own sordid history. They had barely spoken over the past few years, and their last conversation wasn't a pleasant memory in Erik's mind. Nadir would have killed him for it.

"Well, there is no pressure here. I am nothing but an employee," he offered, gesturing towards the bow of the piano.

Blue eyes glanced at it tentatively, squinting in the light.

"I can turn on the lights if you'd like."

"No," she said, making a choice and heading over to the spot slowly, "It feels better this way."

He understood the want for darkness and let the candle cast flickering shadows.

"Erik?"

"Yes?" He replied, thinking of things to accompany her with. He had no idea what she did or didn't know, so he went with the more popular scores in his mind.

"You're more than an employee. Nadir considered you a brother."

Poised just above the keys, ghosting them with his touch, Erik stayed stiller than stone. He, too, had considered the foreign man something akin to family… the closest thing Erik had ever had to such a concept.

"Do you know O Mio Bambino Caro?"

"Puccini? How could I not?" She replied in kind, Erik grateful she'd realized the importance of not continuing on their previous course of conversation.

Her voice was graceful. In fact, it was many things Erik had desired to hear from a soprano, and the night took a strange turn for the better.


Christine seemed happier as they started practicing together. And even if she was not in the mood to sing, she enjoyed sitting in the room in her elaborate robes as the night grew darker to simply listen to him.

More often than not, this is how she would fall asleep, and Erik would watch her. Some part of him understood, now, the thought of why Nadir had been so inclined towards the blonde beauty. Her hair was hectic and curly, but somehow she managed it, and her countenance and humor were far more pleasant than Erik could have ever given her credit for. His hands would linger to a legato, even if the music was calling for staccato, though he was hardly listening as he watched her chest rise and fall. Christine was elegant and worth the millions with which she lived.

When they spoke, it was of her past, and he learned much of her. He was more reserved in what he gave away, most of it too gruesome for her ears, but he did explain the mask to her. It was his personal preference, to hide the atrocity. Christine assured him that she understood, but he knew no one could ever. His eye was sunken in, and his face looked like someone had dehydrated it and stretched it over his bones. Not to mention the seemingly ever-open hole on his skull. He was lucky to have thick, black, hair however that allowed him to seem semi-normal with the mask.

Erik would awake Christine each night when he was exhausted by the piano and follow her to bed, making sure she settled before heading off to his own. Not that he slept much. He did still have to at least pretend to do his rounds. Nadir having passed meat most of the threats that once were had dissipated, and he was far less useful security wise than before.

On one specific night, where Christine fought with him about awaking, he hoisted her in the air and brought her to her room, laying her in bed himself. Though, with a simple glance, his feet carried him away quick, not even bothering her to lay her under the covers.

His heart rushed and beat extensively as he ran down the stairs and into Nadir's old study that was covered in thick dust sheets. Someone should occupy the room, and his traitorous mind envisioned him in the chair, in Nadir's place in more ways than one. It would be necessary eventually, someone financially minded who could give Christine children, as long as she wasn't the barren one of her previous marriage. Nadir's fortune needed to be passed on, not merely dissolved to his interests. Erik had helped for years on that end, what said he couldn't do so in a different position? He had really taken in Christine to his heart.

Erik decided then it was time he retire from Khan Manor.

There were plenty of security jobs in the city, whether it be for the celebrities and their homes, or god only knew what else, but he needed out.

He was attached to Christine, the same woman only several months prior he had accused of cheating with a boy who hadn't been seen since. The same woman who had been loved by his friend and hated by himself.

There were a million laws, whether or not they existed legally, that bound Erik from touching Christine. She was off-limits, as if his friend were alive, there would certainly have been no connection between them like this. Maybe Christine might have even had Nadir's child, or whatever else it was families did, but Erik could not take up the mantle of her second husband.

He wasn't the marrying type, and not because the notion of commitment scared him, but simply because no one would love him anyways. Christine might care for him as a friend, and Nadir had done so as a brother, but no woman alive could love him as a man. Not with his face.

The mid twentieth century was no kinder than any other time when it came to appearances.

Erik packed his bags that evening, and alerted the other two guards he would be taking his leave.

That morning, in the brisk fog of a spring morning, Erik was headed out of the doors to find an apartment in the city when a groggy voice called to him.

"Erik, where are you going this early? I heard the car pull up and just had to come down to see why."

He turned now, facing her. He'd never seen her just from bed, but the mess of curls and groggy tiredness made her look much older than she was. Not in a bad way, of course.

"I've decided to retire from your kindness and make my own keep elsewhere. I've overstayed my welcome," he added, squaring his shoulders and swallowing the burning feeling in his throat.

She looked crestfallen immediately after the news broke.

"You can't leave, Erik you are all I have left," she protested, closing her robe tighter and wrapping her arms around her as she came forward. "You simply cannot."

"You will move on," he encouraged. "You must find someone to give you what Nadir failed to, and I am but in the way of such things. Go out and enjoy the last few years of your twenties."

Christine looked at him with worried eyes, frowning.

"I don't want to find anyone, I have enough."

"You haven't even tried. I know you didn't look for Nadir, but you deserve to be made happy for the rest of your life."

"Erik," she said, her tone straight and eyes changing from stern. "Erik, you make me happy."

His heart seized. She obviously meant as a companion, he could not let himself be tortured like this any longer.

"I am a grown man, and I can make whatever choice I please. I shall see you around the town," he said, attempting to turn, but Christine grew angry.

"And I am a grown woman! My husband is dead, as are all of my relatives, if I deign to love you then so be it."

Erik went cold to the bone, his bags falling from his hands as though he had been possessed. Nadir would haunt him for it, he was certain, but he turned and seized the young woman, taking her up in his arms and pressing his lips firmly to hers.

Christine was responsive, and her arms wrapped about his neck with requited fervency.

The feeling might have lasted the entire year, or maybe for millennium to come, but just the thought of treading into unknown waters with his friend's widow unsettled him enough to propel him back again.

"Christine, you must forgive me-"

"There is nothing to forgive," she said, taking his hand and pulling him to look at her.

Heaven, and Nadir, have mercy on him. Erik loved her thoroughly, and her satin waist in his arms was the most heavenly thing he'd ever encountered. There was just one thing….

"And the mask, Christine, what of it?"

"What of it?" She parroted. "It does not bother me. I've seen under it."

Attempting not to invoke the rage of a dead man, Erik kept his in check.

"When?"

"The night I came home from seeing Raoul. You were cheering Nadir up in my absence."

The was over a year ago, but a day he recalled quite clearly. Nadir had spent too long in the bath and Erik found him head underwater, yanking him out with all the force of a hurricane.

Turns out he'd just been washing the soap from his face, but offered that the thought had crossed his mind to simply not resurface.

"I'm dying anyway."

Erik had torn his mask off and berated him for his insolence, especially as he felt better through the night and began to laugh without pain. It had just stayed off until the knock on the door when Christine saved Nadir's life for those final two weeks. She had come in before the knock, had seen Erik and hadn't screamed, and even talked to him cordially after.

And then she'd promptly made love to her husband, but that was a thought better left alone as he held onto the same woman, a much more tender feeling for her in his breast than in that moment.

"I love you, Christine."

"I love you too," she said with a grand smile, and her lips were on his again in the most fantastic turn of events.

Hopefully Nadir would only haunt them every so often.


"Nadir was unable to have children," Christine told him one evening as they watched their own child roll on the floor in front of the fireplace.

Erik's hand was on her growing stomach, and the cool breeze in the house he attributed to Nadir's haunt blew past him at the action.

"I suspected."

"Well, he lived a promiscuous life in the court he served in, and never once did he sire a child. Not even with me, and I promise we tried," she said.

A few years previously and Erik might have cringed at the statement, but now he just accepted the cold fact that he'd replaced Nadir in Christine's heart. Maybe not wholly, as he was her first husband, but Erik was content in being the second. He preferred to be her last.

"Thank you for the image, my wife. I know what life he lived, I guess I just never thought too much on it."

"And we've proved my fertility," she said, smiling at their darling daughter who decided her foot was a much more entertaining toy than any of the multitudes surrounding her.

"Nadi," Erik scolded, "Darling, you use those to walk."

The girl let go of her foot and did exactly that, walking right up to Erik, reaching for him to lift her. She was almost a year old, and her sibling would be exactly a year younger if they came on time. Erik vowed to be more careful in their loving from now on to prevent anymore closely aged children.

Erik held onto his girls and made the guilty thank you to his friend in the afterlife. He wished Nadir had never gone from them, but he was thankful for the opportunity to find comfort in the lost… even if it was in his friend's widow.

Christine was the love of his life, and every harsh word he had ever given her was reminiscent of a time Erik felt no longer existed. Not with their children, and not with their own marriage.

The cold wind he attributed to Nadir's ghost was never cruel, either. And so maybe he blessed them from beyond, but even if he didn't, Erik was much grateful for what he had, while still allowing himself to mourn what he didn't. Leaving those ghosts in the past, Erik held his wife and daughter in his arms, content in his home and in his life.