Apparently being a Maid of Honour is some sort of poison for a writing muse... because all I want to do is help with wedding plans! But not to worry, I shall still... attempt... to tear myself away long enough to get chapters done... (Looks at woefully unfinished chapter of my novel...)

But anyway! Time for Christine to find the bodies...

Onward!

XXVIII

Christine lurched forward in alarm, nearly slipping on the snow in her haste to reach Erik's vehicle.

Had he really killed them while she sat here waiting?

But as she opened the door and looked frantically toward the back seat, instead of the corpses she so feared, two sets of perfectly healthy eyes stared back at her.

"A joke," Erik stated drolly.

"Erik!" she chastised breathlessly, her heart still pounding at what could have been an utter disaster. "That was a dreadful thing for you to say!"

"Ah," he objected. "But what perhaps is worse is that you so easily believed it."

She blinked at him and opened her mouth to retort, but quickly shut it again. Was her faith in him still so tenuous that a mere jest could cause it to falter?

Evidently so.

So she took a steadying breath and offered an apologetic smile. "You're right, and I'm sorry. I just... I still don't know what we're doing."

Erik nodded. "Nor will you if you continue to stand out in the cold. Get in, Christine, you are letting all the heat seep out."

She rolled her eyes at that but obeyed, the SUV so tall that she had to give a little hop to make it up to the seat.

"I apologize for not assisting you," Erik said while watching her uncoordinated attempt. "But I doubt any of us would appreciate being ticketed for parking in a red zone."

Christine gave a quiet snort. "No, somehow I don't think that would go over well."

Ms. Poligny gave a groan behind them, muffled though it was by the gag still pulled taut between her lips.

Belatedly, Christine realized that they were not simply belted into the seats, but Erik had wrapped ropes about their chests to bind them to the captain's chairs as well.

"Isn't that a little excessive?" she asked, her tone slightly incredulous.

Erik did not bother looking behind him to see to what she referred, instead merging onto the street effortlessly. Christine was quite impressed given the large nature of the vehicle.

"Debienne was giving Ms. Poligny some rather hateful glances, and I thought it was best for them both to be alive when we reach our destination."

Christine gave them both another glance. "Oh," she murmured, recognizing yet again that Erik had perfectly reasonable explanations for the strange things he did.

"Yes, oh." The car gave a bleat of protest and Erik's gaze finally shifted from the road in front of him. "You are not wearing your safety belt," he reprimanded gently. "While I am an excellent driver, I am not inclined to take any chances with your wellbeing."

Christine hastened to comply, her cheeks flaming somewhat at having forgotten such a rudimentary precaution. The moment she had fastened it the unhappy car quieted, and she shifted about in her seat, trying to find a comfortable place to keep the strap.

When was the last time she had even been in a car?

She honestly couldn't remember.

Maybe it was when she was taken from the apartment after her papa had been killed. Hadn't the social workers come, telling her gently to pack because she would not be permitted to stay?

That whole time was such a muddled mess of tears and moments of complete apathy, and she supposed she had gotten to the group home somehow.

But she had never been able to afford a car herself, and the buses did not require the use of seat belts, so she figured it was understandable that she had forgotten it.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going now?"

Erik hummed and switched lanes, their location revealing nothing to her of their final destination. "Did you enjoy your time outside? You were not too cold?"

"No, not too cold. The coat you picked is very nice," she complimented, diverting from his first enquiry. She had enjoyed herself to an extent, but the loneliness and strange feelings that were stirred at watching the other people go about their lives made it somewhat less sweet that she had expected. And instead of trying to explain what she did not fully comprehend herself, perhaps it was better to keep to safer topics.

"How did you pick all those things anyway? Everything fits very nicely, and you couldn't have known my sizes." Especially the underthings. But she couldn't bring herself to mention those by name just yet.

Erik's lips thinned, and she could tell that her question had made him uncomfortable.

"Erik?"

"You likely will not appreciate the answer."

Christine frowned. "Did you come in my apartment while I was away? And look at the sizes?"

He shook his head minutely, and she sighed. "Then what did you do?"

"I... assessed you."

She sat quietly for a moment, having not the least idea what he could be referring to. "What on earth does that mean?"

Erik sighed, and glanced in the backseat for the first time, and she realized belatedly that perhaps she should have waited to bring up these matters until they were alone.

But finally, with lips thinned and with an unwilling set to his mouth, he answered her. "I built my home, you know. I designed it, I planned it, and I implemented it. It is quite impressive, is it not?"

He glanced at her briefly, his eyes full of expectation, and there was no denying how magnificent his underground home truly was, despite its unfortunate location and lack of windows.

"You know it is. There is nothing like it."

He looked immensely pleased by that, and it occurred to her that he wanted her to approve of such things—both of his work in general and of him for doing it.

And felt another moment's guilt that for even a few seconds she had thought that he had killed the two murderers behind them.

"One is not a true architect unless scale and measure are fully ingrained within the mind. So to answer your question, Christine, I looked at you. And from that assessment, I was able to determine which items would fit you most adequately."

Christine sat back in her seat and watched the road for a bit, processing his confession. He'd looked at her? As in... while she was sleeping? Or did he mean that during the trial, while she was so focused on each bit of testimony so she could best determine his guilt or innocence, he sat there watching her, dreaming about taking her to his underground home and already plotting her sizes, even the most intimate ones.

He allowed her to sit in silence for a time, but eventually his voice interrupted her musings.

"I have upset you," he affirmed, his tone somewhat mournful but also seemingly unsurprised.

"No… I…" she took a deep breath and released it slowly. "If that's what you are—an architect, I mean—you could hardly help… noticing."

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. "I did not look upon you lustfully, if that is your concern."

She smiled grimly, hating how grateful she was that he had eased her mind on that score. When would she begin to think the best of him, instead of assuming the worst?

Time.

That was what she needed. Time to know him, to understand him better, and hopefully he would have patience and not grow too upset with her when her doubts once again surfaced.

But still, it pained her to see how it hurt him when he caught her thinking the worst, and she was so very tired of causing him discomfort.

It didn't seem like justice for his ill-conceived kidnapping—it only felt like she was like all the other people who had wronged him in his past.

"That is a very great gift you have," she tried again, hoping to smooth over another of her fumbles. "To be able to notice such detail so easily."

Erik shrugged. "It does not seem so when it disturbs you so."

Christine fidgeted slightly in her seat. "I'm sorry, Erik," she offered truthfully. "I know… you're doing so much for me, and I must seem ungrateful."

"No," he answered firmly. "I do not think that. You are... far too good to me as it is, and it merely serves as a reminder that I have much to make up for."

She wanted to protest. To tell him that she had forgiven him for drugging her, and for taking her, and frightening her so very much in the beginning.

But had she?

Christine still resented it deeply. She did not think that she would ever forget the terror at waking in his home for the first time, the horror that had filled her when a masked man had appeared by her bedside.

Yet still it had lost some of its potency, now that she had a better understanding of Erik's own nervousness and fear as he waited for her to awaken. Fully expectant of her utter rejection, yet perhaps also hopeful that she would be different than everyone else who had been so cruel towards him.

"Do you regret doing it?"

She did not clarify what for the sake of their companions in the back, not wanting anyone to know the circumstances behind her being with Erik. That was strictly between the two of them, and she did not want any undue influence trying to make her feel badly for any choices she would make in future in regard to him.

Erik eased the car to a stop when the light turned red, and she noted that they were nestled between a row of office buildings. Were they close?

He turned toward her, his eyes solemn but also pleading, and before he even spoke she knew his answer.

"I regret many things, Christine. Things that would shock you to hear of them. But I can never regret these days with you. And I... I hope you will not hate me too much for it."

The light changed and he pulled forward, this time turning into a large underground parking garage that twirled downward in a neat spiral, Erik passing many empty places evidently in a desire to go as deep into the ground as possible.

She bemusedly wondered if he felt more comfortable there, simply because it felt more like home.

Erik put the car in park and removed the key from the ignition, although it did not look like any key she had ever known. When had cars changed so drastically?

He wouldn't look at her again, and she realized that he was waiting for some pronouncement on her part. She took the strange key from him and fiddled with its smooth lines, nothing about it even resembling her key to her apartment. "I've never seen anything like this. Never even imagined it," she murmured lowly. "Things keep changing and I don't have a say, and sometimes... sometimes I wish very much that they could go back to the way they were. Where things were simple and familiar and there's comfort in that, I think."

She glanced up to find him staring at her, his eyes so wide and vulnerable.

"But that doesn't mean that the newness can't be wonderful too, once I'm used to it. It might just be intimidating in the beginning, and it might take me a while to understand it all."

Christine hoped he understood. She hoped that he knew that she referred not just to the car, but to their own difficult circumstances.

"It doesn't mean that I'm unhappy with the results."

And with a long sigh that seemed to come from his very soul, he smiled at her, earnest and beautiful in its timidity, and she offered one in return.

How could she not?

But then Ms. Poligny gave another groan from the backseat and he shook his head, his lips thinned once again, and he held out his hand for the strange key before exiting the car.

She thought he would disappear and complete whatever business had brought them here, but instead he came around to her side and opened the door. "Let us be free of our guests, shall we? I tire of their company."

Christine nodded, and made to hop down from the car.

Only to be stopped by his hands gripping her waist, and easing her down gently, her breath catching in her throat as he did so.

He ceased any contact with her as soon as he was sure of her footing, and she did not know why such a little thing should have caused her heart to beat so quickly and her stomach to give an uncomfortable flutter.

What was wrong with her?

She was given time to collect herself, however, as Erik produced a spray bottle and cloth from within the glove compartment, plying a generous amount of unknown liquid onto the rag before wiping down her side of the cab—seat belt, handle, arm rest, all of it.

"Should I be insulted?" she queried, not truly meaning it, but curious as to what he was doing.

"I would prefer that you were not," he answered, lastly wiping the handle on the outside before replacing his cleaning supplies and shutting the door firmly. "I am merely divesting the scene of any physical evidence." He raised a hand and wriggled his long fingers. "Some of us wear gloves and make the cleaning unnecessary."

Christine crossed her arms and scowled, though it lacked any true feeling on her part. "Well some of us did not know we would be making a field trip when they got dressed this morning!"

Erik stilled and turned to her, his eyes assessing as they seemingly tried to ascertain the seriousness of her displeasure.

His head tilted ever so slightly to the side, his eyes narrowing, and she tried very hard to keep her expression firm, but failed miserably as soon as the corners of her mouth began to twitch the longer he continued to stare.

Erik smirked, and she wanted to flounce away in a huff. Doubly so when he looked a little smug and pulled out the strange key again and with a push of the button and a flourish of his hand, the doors made the telling click that signaled their guests were now locked within.

"Shouldn't we have cracked a window or something? So they don't suffocate?"

Erik mumbled something under his breath, but refused to divulge what he had said even when she asked him. "They will be fine, Christine. They are not dogs, and as you can readily ascertain for yourself, the air is quite cool."

Christine gave an uncertain glance back at the car, but she decided not to press the matter. She had already second guessed Erik too many times today, and she would not do so again but assuming he meant to suffocate them both while they went... wherever they were going.

A niggling voice of caution echoed through her mind. City Hall wasn't around here, was it? He couldn't be thinking of them... marrying, could he?

While she had decided that she had no desire to press charges against him, and it was a bit ridiculous to deny that she felt things toward him, by no means was she ready to pledge herself to him.

But he had extended his arm to her, and as he had already pointed out, it was quite chilly down here on the lower levels of the garage, so with one hand tucked firmly into the pocket of her coat, she allowed the other to nestle into the crook of his arm.

And she did not miss the small smile that played at Erik's lips whenever she acquiesced to his silent entreaty.

She didn't bother asking again where they were going, instead allowing her to lead them to a large elevator, his gloved hand selecting a floor as dreary music filtered through ancient speakers.

Erik's smile fell immediately.

"It's not that bad," she placated, and his look of disbelief was enough to make her laugh.

"Then in addition to dinner, I owe you a performance as well, so you would not suggest such a thing ever again."

She'd rather forgotten about her suggestion of dinner—had truthfully thought that her allowance of a larger breakfast had negated her previous offer—but evidently Erik still planned on cooking.

And as her stomach reminded her that she was late in providing lunch, the idea of a large dinner was not unappealing.

The elevator came to a jarring halt, and had the little number above the doors not illuminated the correct floor, she would have assumed that it had decided to freeze of its own accord.

The heavy doors slid open, revealing a neat and tidy law office, the names of numerous partners sprawled along the back wall, a pretty receptionist seated to welcome them.

Her welcoming smile faltered as she took in Erik's mask, but it did not fall completely.

"May I help you?" she asked, her voice thin.

Christine's own lips thinned in annoyance, but forced herself to remember that in everyday life, a masked man appearing generally heralded terrible things, so a dose of caution was warranted.

But that did not seem to quell her desire to protect Erik's delicate feelings.

"If you prove capable of sufficient brain capacity for such a task, you could direct us to Mr. Chagny's office."

Erik's lawyer? Christine hadn't expected that, but it certainly boded well for the two locked away in the car to be dealt with in some measure of lawfulness, instead of Erik's cool proficiency she was coming to expect.

The girl's mouth dropped open before she quickly shut it again, pointing a trembling finger toward the left hallway. "Last door on the right," she urged.

Erik did not speak to her again, merely ushering Christine gently in the direction she had given.

"That was rude," Christine commented, not entirely certain who she meant to chastise.

Erik merely sniffed in response.

The office itself was clean and gave all the appearance of a successful practice, but there was also something of a facade about it. The fabrics were a bit too flimsy, the carpets a tad too industrial...

And she was reminded of Mr. Changy's strange attire, as he tried so hard to be considered professional, while something was never quite right.

His ties for one.

And with a smirk she realized she was looking forward to seeing which he wore today. Or did he save his particularly ostentatious options for the courtroom?

The doors to the offices were all glass, and Christine briefly wondered at how they afforded any privacy when every client could be easily seen from across the hallway.

Mr. Chagny was seated at his desk, jotting down hasty notes onto a yellow pad as files threatened to escape their messy piles stationed about him. A red faced woman tried unsuccessfully to settle a displeased child by bouncing it on her lap, all while trying to convey her case to the bedraggled lawyer over the incessant crying.

Erik frowned at the sight, and she didn't know which part in particular offended him. Did he not like children? Or simply that Mr. Chagny was on conference?

"We can always wait," Christine suggested. "There were chairs in the lobby."

Erik stared down at her incredulously. "I think not."

They moved a bit more inward, positioned just so that there was no mistaking their presence as Erik stared into the room, a looming shadow of black over the woman's shoulder for whenever Mr. Chagny would look up and take notice.

Christine, however, felt terribly awkward, and much preferred to stare at the errant smudges on the otherwise clean doors, avoiding any eye contact with the occupants inside.

It did not take long for Mr. Chagny to pause in his writing and glance upward, his eyes drifting to Erik and his face visibly paling.

He rose quickly from his seat and without a word to his other client, opened his door and stepped into the hall. "Erik?"

"Chagny," Erik answered, giving the barest of nods in acknowledgment. "Busy day?"

"What... what are you doing here?" He glanced down at Christine and frowned, and she took a cautious step behind Erik. Would it mean trouble if he recognized her?

"What is this about?"

"The truth," Erik stated simply, producing a small flash drive from one of his numerous pockets and offering it to the attorney. "Something for you to consider, and possibly pass on to your brother in the prosecutor's office. Perhaps he will prove to have more sense than that fool Sorelli."

Mr. Chagny grimaced, but his interest was definitely perked as he took the proffered evidence. "Philippe is a good man," he confirmed. "But Erik, what is this? What have you been up to? I thought we agreed you'd keep out of trouble and the charges would not be filed a second time."

Erik smirked, a dangerous look in his eyes. "I am not one for waiting."

Mr. Chagny sighed, and glanced at Christine again. "She was a juror. Did you plant her somehow?"

Erik snorted, a rather undignified sound coming from him. "Hardly. But you needn't concern yourself about her." He pulled out the odd key to the SUV and handed it over as well. "There's something in there of a time sensitive nature, located on Level Seven. Although I'd suggest looking at that first," he said, gesturing toward flash drive, "lest your pity be provoked unnecessarily."

Mr. Chagny gave a wary glance down the hallway, and to Christine's relative surprise, he kept his composure quite well. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"Yes," Erik replied. "Forget you ever saw her."

And then he took her by the hand, and started to lead her back down the hallway.

But not before she had had turned back and addressed the bemused looking man. "I like your tie!" she stated cheerily, the bright blue paisley demanding recognition.

And she merely grinned at Erik's perturbed glance and Mr. Chagny's bewildered expression, and allowed him to escort her from the building.

Sooo... Our Erik needs to work on his sense of humor, don't you think? Making Christine run like that. And we have the return of Mr. Chagny! Hopefully he can get his brother to provide a true and honest prosecution this time. Were you expecting him to show up again? Did you think Erik handled their sentencing well? And Christine seems to be getting cheekier...

I'd love to hear your thoughts!