"Christine, wait." Erik's breathing labored behind her.

"We have to hurry."

"Yes, my love, but I'll save no one if we don't rest my leg a moment." At hearing his endearment, a warm sense of reassurance eased the tension in Christine's body.

What had she done? She'd killed someone. Purposefully. Willing. And yet, Erik still called her my love. His voice was still soft with a sweetness he only reserved for her.

Then the worry bloomed poisonous. They had to get to the children. She'd forgotten about Erik's leg. He was always so good at hiding his pain. "Just a few minutes. I promise they won't be wasted."

He slid his body down a tree and bent over the limp automaton in his arms. Through careful slits in the skin and scales he pulled small weights. She lifted a piece of the discarded metal in her fingers. "So you did create unrustable steel."

A shallow smile grazed his face. "I am rather brilliant."

Yes. He was. And it was his brilliant mind that drove so much of his trouble. She wondered just who knew the truth about why Phantasma has burned. Now that he was beside her, she couldn't help but feel the bubbling resentment of her performance. Too much had happened too close. One event did not excuse the other, but this was no time to argue over boundaries.

Still, she couldn't help but ask, "The strike was just an excuse tonight, wasn't it?"

He did not look up from his work. "I told you as much this afternoon. Yes, for the railroad it was. Just before you came, Cummings and I had arrived at an impasse. It was best for you to know as little as possible."

"But the men, the women." All the men and women who had ventured to Phantasma today. All the lives put in danger because a few men found they wanted something they could not have.

"Madame Mol and Hanna don't need your tears. They'll land very well on their feet." That is not what she had meant. Now was not the time for an education.

"Will we?" she asked, her voice small.

He did not answer as first, his fingers working carefully deep in the machine's tail, nor did he look up when he asked her another question in place of an answer, "Why did you push away from me?"

Christine held her breath, held the painful aching her in chest and let herself feel it. She desperately wanted him to look her in the eyes. If he did, he would see everything in her own and not ask such a question. How could she possibly allow him to make that choice? She could not. It was unendurable. She swallowed and pushed the pain down lower; she refused to feel the shame seeping in.

Her words escaped unbidden and bitter, "Why did you command your influence over me?"

They did not have time for this, and he would answer with surety that his excuse was better than hers. After all, his betrayal saved his plan. Hers merely saved them all.

True to her shrewd thoughts, Erik would not lift his head to meet her eyes; he would not be baited away from his question. She decided it was best to leave her own lie. They would have more than enough time for answers and arguments when the danger was over. "The only choice to make was for the children. There wasn't any time for another choice."

"So you took it from me." He was angry.

Well so was she. She would not cower before him, "People should never be forced to make choices between the ones they love. Not when the other would face death. We're even now."

"I would have chosen you. I've always chosen you."

"And yet when I say the same thing to you, you never believe me. Even after all this."

"That is a reflection on my character, not yours, Christine." She took his face in her hands and made him look at her. His voice was very quiet when he answered, "But I believe you now and you will never know the depth of my regret that I did not believe you then." He wrapped his hand around her wrist. "And though I would spare you all the pain of these last years, I would not change anything that has brought us here. Finally."

"I love you. I love you with all of my soul. If we'd had more time, I might have told you it was fine – choose her, maybe we could have saved them all. But my only thoughts were for the children, and we had no time. And I chose them first. I will always choose them first."

Erik went painfully still, his thumb gentle moving forward and back along her wrist. He regarded her with a wholly different and strange type of possessiveness and kinship that left her off balance.

It did not escape her that the last time she'd said she loved someone more than him, he'd disappeared for ten years.

"Yes. Yes, you are right. You are my soul, but in that moment, all I could think of was how to get us out of there and to the children." She took his lips in a passionate kiss, pouring relief and wonder and understanding into every caress. He brought her close and held her there. "Never again, mind you. Your life is not yours to sacrifice."

When she released him, Christine saw the long, thin crack across the entirety of his porcelain mask. It was a wonder it had stayed in place so long. "What is the plan?"

"You will not like it."

"Then you better tell me quick so I'm prepared." He would not meet her eyes again.

"The siren will provide the distraction we need, but I have to throw your voice to make her sing and there is no time to teach you."

"Erik," wariness warred with practicality.

"I know. I know it is a violation. I know that you've not forgiven me yet for earlier tonight, but there is no other way." He pulled the last of the weights from his task and looked up at her with vulnerable eyes. "Is it really so horrible? To be with me in that way? Now that you are my soul and I am yours?"

Yes. How could she explain it? How could she tell him his overpowering her mind felt less like a mutual action and more like an invasion she could not stop. It did not matter how much she loved him or how much he would regret the action later. But there was no time, and she had no better plan for how to get the mermaid to sing. He'd asked her to trust him just hours before. And she would try.

She decided to ignore the question, picking up the discarded pieces of metal strewn around them and rolling them in her hands. "And what else?" she asked, bidding him to continue.


Erik pulled the purple clip from her hair and burrowed it deep into the back of the automaton. "I want that back," she whispered, "It is important to me." He merely kissed her temple and continued with his adjustments, walking north to the head of the river where he would place her into the water.

They'd rushed in silence for the last few miles, both too sure that what would come next would somehow ruin everything they'd worked so hard for.

At the sight of smoke in the distance, Christine grabbed Erik's elbow. "Please. Don't do this. There is another way to do this."

"How? We need a distraction, and your beautiful voice is the best weapon we have."

"Let me be the distraction." At his wrinkled expression, she continued, "Not just my voice. Me. Let me distract them while you start the engine." She pulled the small weights from her pocket. "I'm sure I will have enough leverage with these."

"No," he gasped, horror filling his eyes.

"We'll still put the mermaid in the water. That will buy is some time, but when they realize she's there, they'll know you're there too. And they want you, not just the metal. They can't make it without you. They won't hurt me. If they do, you won't do what they want."

"Absolutely not. If that's the case they can just have me. I'll go and you sneak to the train."

"I don't know how to get it moving." She pulled herself closer to him, his eyes still on the metal in her hand. "You took out all the steal from her body, didn't you? You were never going to give any of it to them."

"My plan will work, Christine. Please trust me."

The truth pulsed in her heart – "I do trust you. And if your plan was better, I would let you in this one last time. But it's not better and our children are at stake."

The tension in his shoulders did not ease, but something in his gaze shifted. Resting his creation on the ground, he took Christine's hand and placed his onyx ring on her finger, bringing it to his lips – "I will never forgive you if you get hurt."

Christine kissed his lips quickly one last time and turned, beginning the shallow loop to come in directly where the children would have.

She had no idea what she would say or who she would even meet, but Erik was trusting her and would stay hidden until the last possible moment. In her rush, she did not stop to think that more men may die or that she would be the one who had to end their life. All she could she think was that, for once, what would happen next in her life – in this dangerous moment – belonged solely to her choice.

She scratched at the wound on her chest from the bullet graze. She would come in scared, worried. A hysterical woman was always something shameful to look at. They would look away and that would give her time. A little fresh blood would add to her look of distress when she came upon them. It burned when she opened the scab.

Christine's long strides ate up the path behind her, cutting through the trees, headless of her footing. She tumbled out from the brush and skidded to a stop before a small clearing, an engine and single short railcar filling her gaze.

"Christine!" Sam yelled, pulling himself as best he could from Charles Cummings' grip. The rest of the children hollered from behind in the locked rail car.

"Where is Simon? Fleck?"

"They're all on the floor in here. Cummings knocked them out cold!" Sarah yelled.

Her gaze returned to the man at Sam's side. Charles? Charles Cummings? Mary's superior, but altogether unremarkable husband? He was going to do his own dirty work? She buried her surprise and let tears leak from her eyes.

"Where's Porter?" Cummings demanded.

"Where's Mr. Y?"

"Oh please, woman." Christine's eyes filled with unshed tears and she frantically searched the periphery.

"He said he would meet us here. What have you done?"

Cummings motioned for his three brawny men to point their rifles at Christine and kept his hand firmly on Sam's shoulder. "You might have a beautiful voice, but Y must prefer beauty over brains. Miss Gray figured it out months ago. Now tell me, you pretty little thing, are you going to be good for anything more than a melody?"

His voice was cold, unconcerned, and his gaze shrewd. This man did not flinch at female sensibilities. How very unkind Mary's life must be. Christine felt the tears dry across her cheeks and fury overtake her features. She was a good actress, but this man would not be moved by tears.

At the set of her shoulders, the man laughed. "There we go. There you are. Now tell me, did Mr. Y tell you what I want from him?"

"No."

"No?" He pulled his own gun from his jacket pocket. "No is not a word I am accustomed to. And pretty women should never lie." Rich men are always so pleasant and kind until they are not. "It gives them wrinkles."

Christine's hands clenched at her sides. She'd like to give him a few wrinkles. "I don't know what you want from Erik." She felt her phantom's ghostly touch along the back of her spine. Reassuring, not prodding; letting her know he was close by. "Perhaps if you tell me, I can provide it for you? Let the children go on their way and I'll return with you to Phantasma."

The pressure of Erik at her mind prickled sharply and she winced at the surprise rush of pain.

"Or I could just take Mr. Y back with me. What good is a traveling singer who doesn't know anything?"

"Mr. Y is dead."

"You're lying. Tell the truth."

"That is the truth."

"No. But perhaps you can be persuaded?" He shot off a bullet at Sam's feet, making him jump and the other children scream. Christine's heart stuttered in her chest. Her body leaned to run toward Sam, but stopped when she heard the other rifles cock. "I see we know each other now. Tell Mr. Y to come out."

This was not going to plan. Oh hell, she hadn't had a plan, but this was not going well. She looked pasted Cummings to the water and realized that one of his men was gone. There were only two rifles pointed at her.

Cummings followed her gaze – "Don't—don't you want to know why Porter didn't bring me himself?"

"Know why my idiot brother couldn't do the one thing I asked of him and get rid of you? Please, enlighten me."

"Because he's dead." Christine held his gaze, "I shot him in the head."

The old man all at once paled before her. "You could never." There was something rolling in the river water, bobbing up and down at the edge of her vision.

"You would be surprised what I can do." Christine took a step closer, "I can sing the most challenging melodies. I can enchant royalty and wealth. I can escape the clutches of madness and darkness. I can make my own choices and demand that you listen." She took a single weight from her pocket. "I can kill people who are loved. Erik is dead, but you wanted his unrustable steel, right? Here it is. Give me my children and let us go and you can have it."

"Oh, please woman. That's not it."

"No? Are you so sure? It certainly gleams unlike any other steel. The children and our passage and you can have it."

"Or I could just kill you and have it."

Christine took a step forward. "You will give me my son."

"Samuel? He's not yours."

Her voice dropped low, "Give me my children."

"Or what?"

The children shouted pointing at the water, the gentle waves of the river glittering against the moonlight.

"Fine." Christine threw the piece of steel toward the mermaid. It sailed through the air in a high arc, plopping in the water near the automaton's tail.

Cummings stood mesmerized, his own mind ticking away at what would be inside. Suddenly he yelled, "Get it boys! That's what we want!" His men rushed into the river, headless of the cold.

In the distraction, Erik slipped through the engine car door and back out of Christine's momentary sight.

Cummings made his way to Christine, "I am a reasonable man, my dear. I know you know this. All I want is what Mr. Y owes me. I gave him a nice place for his little attraction and all I want in return is was he promised."

"You can't have him." He's mine. "He's dead."

"And so soon you can join him." He let go of Sam and grabbed Christine by the waist, his gun digging deep into her side. Only a single man came back from the water, the heavy machine in his arms.

"Your little songbird is a very good actress, but you're too ugly to die, Y. Come out or I'll shoot her and your little urchins."

"Don't you dare!" she screamed into the night. "Sam get on the train and go!"

"Was this your plan?" Erik's voice echoed about them, fearsome and furious. "To get yourself killed after you've told me you love me?"

Sam's eyes went wide and rushed to the car steps.

"I will never forgive you, Christine." The children locked in the rail car gasped, their eyes saucer-like and silent. Cummings turned, Christine still tight against him.

Erik filled her vision. His mask was gone, and the malformed ridges of his skin looked grotesque in the moonlight. Anger twisted their edges taunt and the sneer on his lips only served to accentuate how much of his nose was missing.

"Christ," Cummings breathed, "You really can't die, can you Y? With a face like that why would heaven or hell take you?" Christine slammed her elbow backwards into the soft flesh of Cummings' stomach.

"Let her go."

"You know, man, I can just follow the tracks and find them later. The railroad is my business after all. I'll telegraph Pittsburg and Cleveland, Chicago if you'd like. Where do you think they'll go? A band of freaks and children?"

"But you won't."

"I won't?"

"Because I'll go with you. But they must go and you're not to follow."

It was Christine's turn for horror, "No."

"You're a crafty one. I'll take some insurance, just in case."

"I won't let you take her."

"Miss Day? Why would I want her? No. I'm taking you and that damnable contraption back. Can't have you screwing me with bad steel. We have to keep you honest, Mr. Y."

This. This was never the plan. Christine looked anxiously at her Phantom, willing him to tell her what he was going to do. He merely nodded.

"Are you sure you wouldn't work better if she was near? She's lovely leverage."

"They go free, or I will make your life a living hell."

"No. Erik, no." She pulled against Cummings grip, but could not get away.

"No, my dear. No goodbyes. This is what I deserve. Get on the train like a good woman." Erik watched from spot motionless. Her body ached and warred against her. She could not leave him. Not again. Never again. Sam's hand took her own and led her slowly to the train steps.

The pain was fresh and hot, but she'd felt it all before so clearly. A painful old friend. Charlotte ran into her arms. Sam took her hand, and she held him close to her. She did not bother to step inside the train car, choosing instead to hold her body on the top step.

"Pick it up." Cummings demanded of Erik, pointing down at the automaton. He crouched and adjusted the siren's hair.

"I can't carry her again. My leg."

"Oh yes, my brother's parting gift to you. That was sloppy of him." He motioned for his last man to take the automaton back into his arms. "Consider her living to be my last magnanimous act for you."

Christine had no voice. If she opened her mouth sobs would come out. He had to see her stronger than that. But this could not be the end. Not for her clever man. Not for them.

"I love you." Erik said across the expanse as Sam rushed for a lever and the train began to move. He tossed a bobble from his hands, Christine catching it against her chest. "And you were right. Only the children matter now."

As though bid by angel, she found her voice – sure and solid – "Your life is not your own. I demand you return it to me." He smiled at her command. The train began to move under her feet. She realized she'd not said his words back to him. Words he deserved to hear. As he faded into the darkness she yelled, "I love you."

It was not ten minutes later that a final explosion echoed throughout the gorge. What was left of Christine's heart shattered to the floor with its reverberation as she clutched Erik's purple clip in her hands.