I think I came awake several times, but it felt more like a flying dream. I didn't see anything, just heard voices. And I felt Christine holding my hand.

When I opened my eyes, Masson was sprawled on my torso, not entirely comfortably. The child is a giant; constantly wriggling, stabbing knees and elbows. Beside us, Miri-ange was passed out openmouthed, drooling; beautiful. My own bed, my own room; my own precious babies about me. I gasped as my eyes threatened to overflow.

"Are you going to sleep all day?" Masson demanded, jiggling his foot to ensure I could not sleep all day.

"And what if I do sleep all day?"

"Mama will get a switch to your bottom!" He shrieked with delight at saying 'bottom'.

"Will she?" I smiled. Christ, my head was thumping. It hurt to think.

"Mm. She says she'll switch me if I be lazy and don't pick up my room." He grinned broadly.

"I'd better get up then. I certainly don't want Mama taking a switch to me!" We both had a laugh at that—for quite different reasons. He scrambled off the bed, delivering a swift kick to my ribs—brilliant.

"MAMA! MAA-MAA! PAPA'S AWAKE!" The human whirlwind clomped down the stairs. Miri-ange never stirred. I plucked her up and transferred her to my chest. I wanted to smell her luscious hair. All that jiggling, and she never stirred. I wish I could sleep like that.

Christine rushed in. Her eyes flew wide when she found me semi-upright. She didn't say a word, simply rushed over and kissed me silly.

"How do you feel, my Angel?" she breathed.

"After that? Magnificent. Here, feel for yourself."

"Stop, you evil man, and with your daughter right here!"

"You're smiling…" I crooned.

"Stop!" she giggled. "I'll take care of you later, if you…"

"What? If I feel up to it?" It hurt to laugh.

"That is what I was thinking," she admitted primly. "I just couldn't actually bring myself to say it."

"Come here; we can play a little til she wakes up, hm?"

"No, we cannot—there's no time. How do you feel, seriously?"

I released an appraising sigh. "Incredible headache; know anything good for a headache?"

"Will you quit? My goodness, what's become of you?"

"Don't know. Christine, how long have I been here?"

"Um, fourteen hours or so." She recalculated. "Sixteen, I guess."

"I was in jail. Right?"

She nodded; sudden recognition dawned in her eyes. "You don't remember coming home? Anything?"

"I don't think so," I admitted warily. "Tell me."

Christine wiggled self-consciously. "I guess the confinement was too much for you. You went…a bit wild. The night guards said you tried to use your head for a battering ram. You really wanted to get out," she tried to make light of it, but her eyes were swimming. "They sent for us, I think it was around nine, because the babies were asleep. When we arrived, you were a bloody mess.; they hadn't even bothered to clean your face. You were all tied up like an animal, it was inhuman! Not a single concern for your comfort. They did call a doctor—at least that was not too much trouble for them!" She hid her face in her hands, composing herself. Finally, she smiled weakly. "I screamed at them terribly, Erik. I'm ashamed what I'll have to tell the priest this week. But they deserved it—and worse!" I brushed a stray curl from her face. "Raoul and the doctor managed to convince them you couldn't be kept there any longer, or you'd—"

"—go completely off my nut." Christine is very sensitive about the whole insanity thing, refuses to hear any of those words: crazy, madman, insane; wonder why. I squeezed her hand and she fell beside me. "My brave girl," I sighed, cuddling her as much as I could. She just needed a really good crying jag, and later, a really good screw.

In a few minutes, she sat up, wiping her eyes. "Let me get Reza; we need to talk."

Reza spoke Persian and asked ridiculous questions to see if I was amnesiac or a crackpot as a result of my misguided escape attempt. Once he was satisfied that I was as sane as I'd ever been, he was overcome to see me home safe.

"Will you stop, you dotty old man? Listen, I need to know, what about my arrest? What about the charges?" I murmured.

"Gaston learned of several men in the office of police that were badly embarrassed when they did not capture you after the fiasco at the opera house. Raoul is convinced that Richard and Montcharmin are helping them—because they don't want to pay your salary anymore, you see."

Suddenly my head was too heavy to hold up. As it dropped into my hands, Reza rushed to my side. "What is it? Are you ill?"

"No. I'm fine; I just want to know what's to become of me and my family!"

"Raoul confronted the opera management yesterday. He told them that he would withdraw all his support if they did not immediately stop assisting the police in all matters concerning the Opera Ghost. In fact, he indicated that they would be wise to notify the police that they wished the case closed. He is trying to deal with the police now. Likely it will be more difficult than threatening the managers into submission."

Reza patted my hand tenderly. "Which is why, my friend, we'd like you to consider leaving Paris for your safety, and that of your family."

"I know it, Reza. I know we must go," I sighed.

My old friend's eyes were dull with sadness. "Where would you like to go?"

"One place is the same as another, so long as I have my family. What about you, any preference?"

"Me?"

"Come along, Daroga. You know Christine will never part with you. Where shall we all go together?"

"Switzerland? England? America?"

I buried my face in my hands again. I couldn't bear to think about it.