A/N: Well, it seems we've reached the end of my tale. I wish I'd made it longer for the sake of everyone's lovely reviews. Thank you so much for reading; I hope you've enjoyed my little glimpse at the AU. Although this is the final full-length chapter, we still have an epilogue to go.Enjoy!

Chapter Twelve

It was a warm though not overly sunny day, and the day Christine was to purchase our vegetables, meat and cheese for the week. She fetched her shawl and basket in preparation of leaving, but apparently I looked sullen to her, for she suddenly insisted that I come with her.

"A bit of fresh air will do you good," she said, coming to stand before me where I sat on the settee. "You've been reading in the evenings over walking lately."

"Fine," I said in a faux exasperated tone, as if she'd been badgering me persistently. "If you care that much for my health, I'll come with you."

She smiled shyly. "Of course I care for your health. How could I not?"

When I suggested we take the coach to the marketplace, Christine burst out laughing.

"That rather defeats the purpose of a nice walk to the market, doesn't?"

I grudgingly agreed, but ended up enjoying a pleasant stroll with her even amid the wandering eyes of peasants and mothers with sets of children in tow. With Christine, I could do anything.

We reached the market within a few minutes, a sight which I'd only seen in passing. It was rather charming in a way, dozens of different stands set up, all advertising something different: this one premium apples, ideal for pies, the next the finest pork in all of France. From our left came a fetid stench of animal and dung. I looked toward the source and understood: there was a roped off lot where the farmers' donkeys, faces plunged into water bowls, rested, still tethered to their carts.

We went first to a stand which carried onions of all kind.

"I want to try a new stew sometime this week," she chattered as we passed a stand claiming to have delicious smoked gouda.

"Don't we need any cheeses?"

"No," she answered too quickly.

I was about to ask her what was the matter when we heard her name called.

"Christine!"

She kept walking, acting as though she'd heard nothing.

"You've been called."

"Christine!"

When she ignored it a second time, a young, blonde boy came flying from behind the counter of the cheese stand, coming to block Christine's path. His complexion was unblemished, his eyes sparking and youthful. He couldn't have been any older than twenty one.

For no apparent reason -- or perhaps it was because he'd stalled us in our shopping progress -- I felt irked, especially when he began to speak. His voice was light, carefree, a neutrally pitched tenor which was a stark contrast to my rich, baritone speaking voice. The entire aura he possessed was one I'd never shared, not even in the very beginnings of my youth. This annoyed me even further.

"Christine," he began with a laugh. "Why were you ignoring me?" Only then did it seem he looked beyond Christine to see me standing behind her. Our gazes locked, his sapphire eyes boyish and youthful, my onyx orbs cold and unfeeling. I could almost sense a dislike for me sprout in him that very instant. It did not bother me, for I felt the very same way.

"Is this the man you work for?" he asked. All airiness had receded from his tone.

"Yes, Raoul," she said carefully. "This is Erik."

I felt for her in that moment, for somehow, in the way she said this, I knew everything. I knew this boy had attempted to court her, and how torn she'd felt. I knew that under normal circumstances, she would have been quite content with this, but since I'd come into her life, she would not accept him as her fondness for me grew. I knew how she'd agonized over whether to give up on me and settle with Raoul, or give me time and see if I'd ever see her in the way she saw me. I understood how now, since I had come along, she felt free to reject this boy, yet couldn't find it in her heart to do so. I pitied her for coming to be in this situation, the very one she'd hoped to never be in.

The boy -- Raoul -- continued to look me up and down, as if drawing up a decision about my apparent character. He seemed troubled.

Lowering his voice, as if I couldn't hear him then, he said, "Christine...how can you work for this man?"

"Whatever do you mean, Raoul?" she asked nonchalantly, almost glancing over her shoulder back at me, but thinking better of it.

"Christine. I mean that he wears a mask...and you know what they say of people with...deformities...they can't be holy."

I felt myself shrinking, then, to a size much smaller than the boy or Christine or anyone else in the market. The boy, a bit to my own surprise, had hurt me; I was still tender, and he'd relentlessly struck a vulnerable area, though unknowingly. Once more I was inferior to them, once more I was to be judged as evil without any justification, and what was worse, no one would defend me. No one except Giovanni ever had. What could Christine say, anyway? Certainly nothing, I figured, but to my amazement, I saw her stiffen, and I noted the surprise in the boy's eyes, presumably at her expression.

"Raoul! How dare you insinuate such things about a man you don't even know!"

"It's only...common knowledge," he replied uneasily, fumbling over his words in his surprise at her passionate response.

"Common ignorance, you mean! You know nothing of Erik, yet you call him evil!"

"Christine...please...don't make a scene." The boy was struggling with himself. He was fond of Christine and wanted to make a good impression on her, so certainly shouting at her in response wouldn't be practical, and yet she had disagreed with him on a point which was obvious to everyone, and what was more, several surrounding shoppers were beginning to take notice of the quarrel.

"I will if I must to derail this lie! Erik is a sweet man and I care for him very much. The very first thing we learn as children is to be kind to others and not to judge. You have shocked me in forgetting this. Goodbye, Raoul."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked past me toward the street from whence we came. I took a moment to savor the boy's baffled expression before following her.

As she streaked out of the marketplace, I called after her, "What about the stew?"

"We'll go hungry tonight."

-------------

Later I'd discovered each one of my assumptions had been correct. Raoul had been courting her casually, and had off-handly mentioned marrying her several times. She'd humored him, all the while battling with herself over what to do. Either way, she enjoyed the attention, and built up a sort of friendship with him during her weekly visits to the market. Only too late, she'd explained, had she realized the eventuality of us running into him.

If I were younger and less mature, I likely would have been upset over having a woman fight back for me, would have figured this made me less of a man. But instead, I found only pleasure in discovering a streak of fire in the woman I loved, and knowing at last that she truly would defend me against anything, even against a friend -- that she truly loved me.

We arrived back home only after we'd talked this through in a park a few blocks from the market. She'd still been a bit incensed, and I'd enjoyed seeing a previously unknown side of her.

When Christine had responded to my query about dinner, she hadn't known how correct she was. Having purchased only onions in our short visit to the market, that night we grazed on the crusty heel of a baguette and a half empty bottle of chardonnay.

We spent the remainder of the evening in song, and when the time came to say goodnight, rather than committing to the usual tradition, I took her hand in mine and led her to my bedroom. She resisted at first, clinging to propriety, but she gave in eventually, namely after I'd taken her tenderly in my arms and implored her to reconsider. I slept more soundly that night than I had in years, knowing she was right by my side.