Erik had always hated the weather near the North Sea. It did nothing for the voice. Of course, that was the least of his problems as he boarded the train at the small station. Moving stealthily toward the cabin he had found was theirs, he listened for any sound of a struggle. Nothing. Not even the sound of two sleeping passengers, as there should have been. Fear clutched at his heart.

Picking the lock, he slipped into the cabin. Cecily was huddled on the floor, her loose hair falling pell-mell over her eyes, which were staring upward out of the window. The lights of the station were blurred by the pouring rain, but she didn't seem to notice when the train started moving. "We must make twenty stops in this tiny country," she muttered, apparently unaware of Erik's presence. There was blood running down from a cut on her head, and Erik could see several scratches on her forearms as well.

He moved up next to her. She looked at him, but her eyes were vacant and unreadable. "Where is he Cecily?" She didn't even blink. "Are you all right?"

She started to laugh, but no sentiment entered her eyes. The laugh was cold, and Erik realized that that was how he must have sounded as the Phantom. He reached out to her, but her voice startled him. "I do believe that I got the better end of the deal." She must have seen his questioning look despite her unfocused gaze because she nodded over at the bunk. Erik got up and looked at what appeared to be a bunched up quilt.

He pulled it back and found himself staring into Nicholai's panicked face. A dead face. The hair ribbon wrapped tightly around his neck had apparently been there for some time.

"Rather more difficult to strange someone than throw a knife at them, isn't it?" Her voice was ghostly and empty, much like her eyes. "I had to look him in the eye to finish it." She looked at him and smiled. Erik felt as if he had just walked into Death himself.

Erik scanned the cabin as he heard the conductor's voice calling out the impending arrival at another small station. Nicholai's trunk was pushed into a corner. Erik popped the lock and began to empty things from it, stuffing them under the bed. When it was empty, Erik moved Cecily so she was looking away. He then methodically stuffed the body into it and relocked it. "Let's go." He pulled her to her feet.

She grabbed a handbag from the small cupboard and laughed coldly again. "Everything else is at the opera house! I told them I would send for it once I got there! I told them I'd send a telegram from Moscow. We can do that can't we?"

Erik took her face in his hands. "Come on, now. We can do whatever you want once we get off the train." Making sure she understood, he bent over and lifted the trunk.

"Are you going to play porter now? Surely we can pay for a boy at the station!" There was no trace of reality in her voice, and Erik wished he could reach out to her, but the trunk was too heavy to lift a second time so quickly. She was obviously in shock.

"Come now love, we'll be fine." He moved quickly from the room, locking the door behind him and taking the key. Two more steps and they would be off the train, able to disappear, to leave behind the nightmare in the sleeping car.

She followed like a child. "What did you call me?" And they stepped out into the torrent. Neither said a word until they arrived in town, stopping at a small in. Erik left her in the care of the owner's wife, simply saying that she'd had quite a shock, and that it would probably not do well to pry too much into it. For himself, he collected the trunk from the station and disposed of its contents. He wished that the devil could die a second time for what he had done. All that Erik could do was wash his hands of the wretch, trying to leave the hatred he held for him with the body.

He entered the room slowly, making enough noise for her to know he was there. The mistress of the inn had apparently helped her change into her nightgown, and Cecily was currently wrapped up in a blanket, staring at the fire. He let his sopping wet cape fall to the ground and sat down next to her. "Cecily…"

She leaned up against him, pulling his arms around her. "Just don't leave me."

---

Cecily wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Half-asleep, she could still tell that the fire was not doing enough. And the fact that Erik was off sending a message to Paris made her feel that much colder, too. She didn't like the feeling she had whenever he left, which she had to admit hadn't been often in the past few days.

Her tired body didn't let the cold keep her awake for long. As she crossed over the border into that land where the waking world doesn't matter, he was there to greet her. Unable to do anything but follow, she found herself again on the train, in a sleeping car made up for two. And a face that she could do nothing but detest staring back at her.

Calmly, Nicholai Tchikevsky drew the drapes over the window. "Well, if you're so sure…" In the darkness that followed the action, Cecily could barely make out his expression. Suddenly terrified, she searched around for something to defend herself with. The only thing she came up with was the pillow at the head of the bed, and it was just out of reach.

Nicholai looked at Cecily's panicked expression in the dim lamplight. "So you've figured it out. I always knew you were a brilliant girl."

Cecily shook her head, trying not to believe the scene that was playing out in front of her. "You killed an innocent girl! How could you?"

He laughed and put his hand into the interior breast pocket of his jacket, his eyes never leaving hers. "Innocent," he scoffed. "Hardly. In fact, when I found her, she was quite desperate to get access to some of this." He pulled a small box out of the pocket and handed it to her.

Hands shaking, she took the box. She recognized it all too well. It was small, just big enough to hold two or three doses. Hesitating for a moment, she opened it. Sure enough, a small cloth with a bit of the stuff lay within. "You lie."

Snatching the box back out of her hands, Nicholai shook his head. "Lie? My dear, why would I tell you she was an opium eater when I could surely come up with other, better excuses? Willing to do nearly anything for it. Kept going on about how it intensified sensations and made life so much easier. Practically promised to bed me for it. She should be grateful that I ended her miserable life." Nicholai glanced at the stuff, then snapped the box shut. "Miserable drug whore she was, much like the one in London. Still, she was better than that blatant slut in Nice."

She realized with an ill feeling that all those other girls had met similar fates to her sister. She was truly dealing with a monster. Cecily's arm flew out of its own accord, but he grabbed it before it made contact, twisting it. "Now, now, now, play nice." He pushed her away, back into the corner. His eyes held hers fixed, and Cecily recognized with dread the dark passion that she knew meant murder. "I suppose the game is up then, isn't it? Can't have you running off and telling them. You know far too much."

He moved toward her, but Cecily pushed past him. He grabbed her wrist and forced her back into the corner. "No where to go, Cecily. Although I expect your sister might be happy to see you."

Desperate, she shoved all her weight into him, sending them both tumbling back onto the bed. She reached for the pillow, but, seeing her intention, Nicholai sent it flying across the car. He pushed her up against the wall, her hands pressed to the edge of the bunk, able to reach nothing but her own hair. "I promise it won't hurt a bit." He spoke sweetly, and Cecily wondered if he had lured Sophie with that same voice.

The thought gave her strength. The train rocked awkwardly, making Nicholai lose his balance and tumble backwards. On him in a moment, Cecily ripped the ribbon from her hair and pushed it down hard around his neck. One knee on each arm, her weight centered on his legs, she stared down into the panicking eyes as the tried to gasp for oxygen. She pushed harder, watching as his eyes bulged in fear and blood loss. Moments passed before he stopped trying to claw at her, and his eyes stopped blinking madly. Staying there for several more minutes, Cecily slipped down from the body, leaving everything there, and sat down in the corner. It was over.

---

Both safe stop Moscow done stop

It was small, but would have to do as a message to Mme. Giry for now. Erik hurried back to the inn. He hated leaving Cecily alone for any length of time after what he had seen several days before. He entered their room and took off his hat. Again, soaked with rain. Cecily grabbed his coat from him as soon as he walked in and set it near the fireplace to dry. She pointed at a small table set with bread, cheese, and water for a simple lunch. He smiled and sat down to eat.

It had been several days, and it was all Cecily could think about. Even the nightmares of Nicholai gave way to it in waking thought. She couldn't stand it anymore. "Erik, what did you call me?"

He took a bite of bread. "When?"

"On the train." He looked at her strangely, not following. "You said, 'It will be all right, love.' You called me love." She watched as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. She let him squirm for the right word before asking, "Is it true?"

Erik sighed. He couldn't lie to her. She meant too much to him. "I was just stupid for not seeing it earlier."

Bending over, Cecily placed a tentative kiss on his lips. He deepened it, savoring the feel of her lips. She pulled back for a breath. "When are you going to really kiss me?" He looked slightly hurt. She leaned over and began to kiss his jaw line up to his ear. "I just mean that I want to kiss you without feeling leather," she whispered.

He pulled back and stood up, shocked. "It's too ugly! I'm too horrible…" he trailed off, staring into the fire.

She took hold of his hand and moved to be in front of him. She caught his eye. "You forget, I've seen." He flinched and turned his face away. "And there is nothing horrible or ugly about my Erik. Not his music," she brushed her lips against his neck, enjoying the shiver that ran through him. "Not his face," she moved her hand to the clip that held the mask in place and opened it. "Not his soul," in one movement, she pulled it off with one hand and pressed her cheek against the rough skin. "I love you Erik."

Erik was unable to move. All he could do was hold her and fight back the tears.

---

A/N: I did not originally intend to include the middle section of this chapter, but many reviewers asked for the reasons behind Nicholai's murder of Sophie. In an attempt to clear this up, I have included said section. If it is still confusing, please let me know.

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