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XXXVII

"Erik," Christine began, still too shocked by his suggestion to form any type of coherent argument. "I... I told you before, this was just a doodle! I never expected..."

To her surprise, Erik almost looked disappointed by her reproach, his eyes flicking briefly to the page. "The idea displeases you? Of running away with me? You would live in comfort," he was quick to assure her. "We would take your little furry fellow and all would be well."

Christine smiled at that, at his care and attention to what she valued most, and the thought was certainly... appealing. She had never had much opportunity to travel. Once settled in their new state, her parents had been too poor to think of making frequent trips back to Sweden, and then when it had just been papa and her...

They'd had other priorities. Like eating and small comforts.

"I don't need anything extravagant," she amended. "And a castle is certainly that."

Erik sniffed, waving a hand dismissively. "You deserve much, Christine, and I shall provide something worthy of your presence."

He was sweet, of course he was, but she still felt rather odd about the entire notion. "But you built this place," she reminded him gently. "Every detail is how you want it. I... it would be selfish to take you away from it all. Not when it took so much effort to construct it."

This time he gave her an incredulous look, and there was no doubting how inane he thought her comment to be. "It is but a hole in the ground with luxuries to make it bearable." Christine wanted to protest, to remind him of his grand music room, his clever kitchen with all of its hidden appliances, the warmth of his library. But there was a pain to his expression that she could not ignore, and she realized then...

Yes, he was safe here. But if the coffin in his bedroom was any indication, he had also fashioned it as his tomb.

And that was no place to build a life together. Not when she would have them fill it with happiness and sweetness, with laughter and music, if only she could find courage enough to allow it.

"If we were to try," she worded carefully, trying not to grow too excited at the prospect. Not until things were more certain. "How realistic is this? I have a passport but it could be expired by now, and I know there are things like visas, not to mention the hassle of trying to find a place..."

Erik was smirking at her.

"What?" she asked him peevishly. The point of this was to share, for him to reveal his plans to her, not make her muddle through with half-begun suggestions.

"I appreciate your attention to detail, Christine, but I can assure you, nothing you have mentioned will prove any sort of obstacle. I have lived in many countries with little recourse."

It surprised her that he had done so. She presumed he had been born here, but she supposed that with a mind like his, he could know a great many languages and abandon accents at will. She would like to hear of his travels, of the things he had seen and the people he had met, but she suspected that there would be sadness in those tellings as well, and she did so hate to see him pained.

"But would... would we get in trouble for it? I don't want to leave here only to get into more."

Erik sighed and shook his head. "You must trust me, Christine. I have been living this way most of my existence and have yet to be caught." She opened her mouth to argue, but he was swift to amend his statement. "When I did not wish to be, of course."

Christine smiled thinly. "Of course."

Erik allowed her to sit in silence for a moment, gathering her thoughts and trying to make sense of her trepidation. But eventually he leaned back in his chair, his hands steepled and his eyes narrowed as he regarded her. "I confess, I rather thought the notion would draw more enthusiasm from you, my dear."

Christine fiddled with the legal pad still clasped tightly in her hands, her fingers drifting over the words on the page. In reality, she had written them only recently, but they seemed as though they were from a different time.

A lifetime ago.

"We'd be criminals there too," she murmured. "Wherever we went. We'd be exchanging our crimes, but still..." She gave a little shrug, words failing her. "That doesn't bother you at all?"

It was a silly thing to say as clearly Erik did not hold himself to the ethical code of the land. He had fashioned his morality from his own experiences, with little thought to how such a mentality might prove disastrous if too many people took his approach.

"It bothers me if you are discomforted by the notion," Erik allowed. "But I fail to see how you would be considered so when you had yet to do anything wrong there."

She nibbled at her lip, not willing to speak of it fully, for she truly did not want to know. He'd asked her to trust him and she wanted to—how she wanted to!—but there was still the niggling awareness that whatever he did, he would not be embracing the new laws of their land.

And that worried her.

What if they were forced to flee again in future?

To keep running and hiding for the rest of their lives?

She didn't think she could live like that.

"If we were to go," she said at last. "I'd want us to be safe there. To do everything we could so that it would be our home for always. So no more police, no more troubles just... us. Getting to live."

Erik's eyes glittered, evidently pleased by her contingency. But still he hesitated, this time leaning slightly forward so he could look at her more fully. "What is it you fear that will happen, Christine? I would prefer you speak to me openly so that I might allay your fears, as you do tend to fret so."

She very nearly snorted at that, for between the two she firmly believed that Erik was the one prone to bouts of fretting, especially if it involved her in any way.

"I don't want to go through any of this again," she confessed, feeling the bite of tears at her eyes as she tried valiantly to keep them away. "I don't want to be scared, either for myself or because I might lose you over some technicality." Or because you had really done something, she added silently.

Erik's lips thinned and he reached out a hand, bidding her to take it through his gaze alone. She did so, the reach not wholly comfortable as she could not move closer to him lest she disturb Boo's contented snoring, but she was glad of the contact all the same. "I shall give you a proper home, Christine," Erik promised. "I shall make you safe there, and you needn't fear recourse—either from this country or the one that we shall soon call our own. Do you understand?"

She had her doubts. Of course she did. There was no pretending that things could not take a terrible turn, that they could be discovered at an airport, both of them separated and charged with fleeing a criminal investigation, securing their own jail times regardless of a trial.

But...

Erik had asked her to trust him.

And how she wanted to.

For the life he described... one of comfort and of safety, where she was not alone trying to scratch out a bit of contentment in a world that left her feeling so terribly alone...

How she wanted it.

And badly.

"Do you think it could have a moat?" she enquired presently, feeling a lightness that had not been there before when she decided to embrace her Erik's promises and believe that he could fulfill them.

Erik smirked at her. "Shall it be filled with crocodiles and all sorts of nasty things to keep unwanted guests away?"

She glared at him, though there was little heat behind it. "Fish," she corrected. "So that Boo could watch them. He's probably terribly bored down here." It was a frequent worry of hers that he would be discontented, trapped just as she had felt in her early days with Erik.

But Erik simply gave her little fellow an incredulous look, likely noting the way he was so completely nestled against her thigh, his body pressed as fully as he could make it. "He looks positively miserable," Erik agreed, and if Christine was not certain the notion ridiculous, she rather thought there was a tinge of jealousy in his voice.

But that was absurd.

"When do you think we could leave?" she wondered, feeling a curious pang of sorrow at the prospect. It was not that she held a great deal of affection for this place, with all its strangeness and lack of windows. But it was here she had felt the first flutterings of love, had come to know her Erik and share some of their firsts and she... she would always think of it fondly for that.

"You agree to it then?" Erik confirmed. "I shall not force you to leave if you find it too distasteful. I... I want you to be happy, Christine. With me. And I shall do whatever I can to ensure that you are so."

How could she ever deny him when he spoke to her so sweetly?

"I want that for you too, Erik. And... and if leaving makes things easier—if we'll be safe and together and won't have to worry, then that's what we'll do."

He brightened considerably at that, though he forced himself to remain relaxed. "You are certain? I will not deny that our options are fairly limited if you should prefer we remain in the city, but I will find a way. For you."

Christine smiled giving his hand a final squeeze before releasing it entirely, her arm aching slightly from the angle. "I'm sure. It just... it doesn't seem like something people actually do. They might talk about running away, about staying in a castle and pretending the rest of the world does not exist but then they go back to work and take the bus and do the shopping and..." She shrugged. "Life goes on."

"Christine," Erik patiently reminded her. "We are currently housed underneath an opera house. I believe normality was forsaken long ago."

Christine plucked at her sleeve, wary but curious as she made her next enquiry. "Is that what you want? A bit of normalcy?"

Erik frowned ever so slightly, glancing away from her. "Is that such a terrible desire?"

"No!" she quickly assured him. "I just... you're brilliant, Erik. Anyone could see that just by talking to you. And this is a magnificent home, no matter how... painful things must have been for you to want to create it." She took a deep breath, gathering her courage to press on. "Are you really sure you're ready for the real world? People and airplanes and... well... what normal really means?"

Erik's eyes settled upon her, suddenly so very serious as he considered her question. "I am ready to... try. I do not think you were meant to be hidden away for the rest of your life and since... since I should very much like to be a part of your life for the entirety of it, does that not mean that some changes must be made to our circumstances?"

It touched her that he had reached such conclusions without her prompting. Not since the beginning had she asked to leave here, had not even begun to broach the subject of relocation. And she counted it as a great encouragement that he realized it on his own.

"However," he continued, his tone rather anxious. "I am still not overly fond of people."

She hadn't meant to, but despite herself she chuckled, and he gave her a helpless smile in return. "I never would have known," she teased, causing his eyes to narrow ever so slightly as he began to sulk. "Now don't be cross, I'm only playing. And I'll have you know that I find people rather tiresome too."

Erik's eyebrow rose in question and Christine grinned. "You've clearly never worked in food service. Nothing makes you question people more than waiting on hungry customers and being yelled at for things that aren't your fault."

Erik sniffed disdainfully at that. "None of them appreciated you," he declared knowingly, and she shook her head.

"I liked my coworkers," she defended gently. "Travis was especially nice, and so was Ewan." Belatedly she recognized that she'd listed two men, and she rolled his eyes at his look of suspicion. "Don't you start. Travis played the piano beautifully and was always very complimentary about my voice, even when... even when singing only made me sad. And Ewan was the one that convinced the owner to let me work dinners even though I wasn't qualified." Erik snorted at that, and her ire rose. "You should be grateful to both because they made it so I had food on the table."

His expression softened at that, though she saw a tinge of pain in it as well. "You should never have been forced to worry about such things," he complained lowly.

Christine sighed and didn't know quite what to say. Why should she be different than all the other people who had to scrimp and save? She had worked hard and supported herself and she was proud of that. But if she thought of how things might have been different if her papa had lived, if she had been able to pool her money with his, coming home to warmth and laughter and brawny hugs...

No, it wasn't fair.

But life so rarely was.

And she saw no point in bemoaning that.

"I have you now," she stated simply. "And that's enough for me."

Her hand strayed over Boo's silky fur, and she silently amended that he too was a source of her contentment, but did not dare speak the words aloud given Erik's possible jealousy over her little friend. She had affection enough for the both of them, and with time, he would come to realize that.

Erik looked strangely humbled at her words, and to her great surprised he came and knelt before her, his hand seeking hers as he held it firmly between both of his own. Her breath hitched when he raised it to his lips, brushing a grateful kiss upon her knuckles as he did so. "I do not deserve you," he murmured.

How did he make her heart beat so very quickly?

How did a simple brush of his lips upon her skin affect her so?

And yet he asked if the possibility of more repulsed her.

Her silly man.

"You shouldn't say such things," she urged him softly, finding words and argument suddenly very far away.

But Erik simply shook his head and smoothed his thumbs over her hand, looking at her intently.

Despite her being seated on the sofa and he kneeling on the floor, they were not so very different in heights as he stared at her, his eyes tender and sure.

And for one brief moment, she felt absolutely certain that he would ask her to be his wife.

The query never came.

And for some reason, she was disappointed.

"Erik," she finally prompted, not liking to see him kneel before when he was not in fact about to propose, "that isn't good for your knees."

She tugged at his hands but he remained steady, gentling her with another swipe of his thumbs. "Do you know," he mused, his eyes never straying from the delicate skin of her fingers. "I never thought I would know the feel of a woman's hands. Know how the taste of her lips lingered on mine. Know the warmth of her body pressed against mine."

Christine's cheeks burned at his words, as they made their times together sound far more scintillating than what they had been. But perhaps they had prompted such feelings from him all the same? She had not meant to be a tease, had only wanted to show him affection while she in turn began to remember what it was like when it was freely offered in return.

"You have given me that," he continued, his eyes flitting to meet hers. "If I had known what joy there was to be found... I would have abandoned that prison within an hour—would have come to you and courted you properly." He sighed then, suddenly despondent as he gave her a sad little smile. "But I would have frightened you and you still would have hated me at first."

An answer seemed very far away as she returned his stare, but she managed a choking sort of reply. "I never hated you," she disagreed.

Erik hummed low in his throat. "But you did not always love me."

Her brow furrowed. "Most people would say I loved you much quicker than is normal."

Erik grew very still, and she wanted to retract her words immediately. She hadn't meant that it was any less real, that she thought there was some outside force driving her to love him with a nefarious purpose.

"I loved you from the moment I saw your smile," Erik confessed helplessly. "Was that also so abnormal?"

"No," she choked out, shaking her head firmly. "When parents meet their child for the first time, they love it. They don't have to think about it or reason it through. They just... do."

Erik grimaced and she realized to whom she spoke, and she felt terribly wretched for it. "Oh, Erik, I'm so sorry." He shook her head in denial of her apologies, but she pressed on anyway. "You don't need me to tell you that you never had a real mother. One that would have loved and protected you above everything. Maybe the drugs kept her from loving, or maybe there was something else wrong with her, but whatever it was, the fault lay with her, not with you!"

Of that she was absolutely certain. Her Erik might have been born with an unfortunate appearance—although Christine was not wholly convinced that such had not come from his mother's lack of care while he was yet being knit in her womb—but that was no fault of his own. And no true mother would have punished him for it.

"Christine would never have been so cruel," Erik confirmed. "If she were to have a child that looked like me, she would... she would find a way to love it."

He looked at her with eyes so wide and open, that hint of a childish need as he sought her reassurance making her heart ache in places she didn't even know existed.

"I would," she promised, knowing that it was true.

Even as her breath grew a little shorter as she thought of the possibility.

Not of what a child would look like, but a child at all.

She had not given much thought to children—had not spent a great deal of time with little ones at all except for those which inhabited the group home waiting for placement just as she did. Most were damaged, would look at her with eyes so full of pain and betrayal that she had no choice but to look away, knowing that she would only frighten them with her own dead expression.

At the time, she'd no love to give.

But Erik had kindled it in her anew, and... she supposed... when the time came... and he'd asked her to marry him properly...

"What are you thinking about?" Erik asked her, and she swallowed thickly, sifting through her thoughts enough so she could find one she was willing to share.

"Do you think of a family often? A family with me?"

"Oh yes," Erik breathed, his eyes softening. "Only with you."

Unbidden, her mind drifted to how those children were made, and she nibbled at her lip fretfully, dread settling in her belly at what she was soon to ask. She did not mean to hurt him, to ask things that would only make his horrors return to the surface, but it would affect her soon enough—she shivered to think of it—and if he required doctoring or help that was not in her power to give...

"Erik," she started slowly, praying that he would not take offense. "I just... wanted to be sure. They say so many things about what prison is like..."

Erik stiffened, but he waited patiently for her to continue. "Yes, Christine?"

"Did... did anything... happen while you were there?"

She did not want to say the words. Did not want to give voice to the terrible deed that filled her mind with worry, and at the flash of Erik's eyes, she knew that he caught her meaning without any additional clarification.

And yet she sincerely hoped that none of that anger was directed at her.

"You think Erik should allow such a thing to happen again?"

This time it was Christine who reached out her hands as Erik made to pull away, grasping and finding and soothing in their way. "I didn't say that," she was quick to assure him. "But when you first came to the courthouse you had so many bruises, and you even said that it didn't seem worth it to fight back."

He still seemed torn about whether or not he intended to flee from her, but eventually he sighed. "Why must you think of such things?" he pleaded with her for understanding.

How she hated that she had needed to ask. She should have trusted that he would take care of himself that... when the time came... he would take care of her.

"If... if we're intimate... someday, if we're starting that family that I think we both would like..." Erik's eyes widened at that. "I need to know that we're safe. That your memories will not be too fresh, that you weren't given any... thing during..."

"You think I would risk endangering you?" This time there was a definite incredulity to his voice.

"Not intentionally," she was quick to assure him. "But we're a team, aren't we? We're partners now even if you aren't my boyfriend," this she added just to tease him, to lighten what had become a terrible conversation—once again at her own prompting. "And I'd hope that I would help you think of things you might have overlooked."

Erik opened his mouth to protest, and she was fairly certain to retort that he never forgot anything, no matter the circumstances, but he must have seen her sincere desire to be helpful, for them to be happy and healthy in their future life, for he shut it again and gave a deep sigh instead. "I am quite well, I can assure you. I have been checked by many doctors, for more ailments than I think you could even name, and while hideous, nothing else at present seems to be damaged."

Christine nodded, feeling foolish for even having brought it up. She looked down at their entwined hands, wishing she could learn how better to mind her tongue, to keep from turning their delightful moments toward such serious topics that only hurt them both. What was wrong with her?

But Erik's finger tapped lightly under her chin, prompting her to look at him. "There was nothing pleasant about incarceration, Christine," he told her presently. "But the inmates and guards were far more interested in using their fists rather than their..." He stopped short of actually saying it, and Christine was grateful.

Not that he had been hurt. Never that. But her Erik had endured so very much, and she would spare him anything that she could.

"I'm sorry," she told him, hating how inadequate her apology was. "I shouldn't have said anything."

Erik grimaced. "You have my sincerest apologies that you should even have to question such matters."

On that at least, they could agree.

And simply to remind them of a brighter topic, of something that was beginning to fill her with the beginnings of a new excitement, Christine returned to a much safer subject.

One that alit Erik's eyes with anticipation.

"I suppose we should start packing for the move."

Sooo... Looks like they have a plan! And Christine really does know how to pick the awkward subjects, doesn't she? Thank you all again for your reviews, and if you feel so inclined, I'd love to hear from you all again!