Hi, everyone! Sorry it took so long to update. We're nearing the last vignettes although I can't say with certainty how many are left. These characters tend to choose their own paths :)

Thank you as always for your comments. Thanks to MadLizzy for editing.

Read and Review!!!

Christine was more dependent on Erik than she had ever been during their married lives. Especially after Eva's birth, she was more lethargic and achy, often wanting to spend part of the day in bed.

Thankfully, Erik didn't seem to mind ordering food and becoming the sole provider. He composed and sent in his works without her prodding. And he continued to let Eva stay in their bedroom when it was necessary.

The stress from the changes did eventually cause him to have a breakdown one night. "It will not stop making noise," he complained as Eva wailed from her nursery. He placed both hands against his head, eyes glowing brightly. "Why will it not be quiet? Is it sick or dying? You must tell it to be quiet or Erik will make it be quiet. Erik must…fix it…."

Christine had squeezed his hand and kissed the top of his head. "Let me go calm her down."

"You are leaving?" he asked, his eyes not entirely lucid.

"I'll be right back. I promise." She threw the covers off of her and walked to the nursery. After lifting Eva from her crib and bringing her into the bed, Christine repositioned herself. With a calmed Eva in one arm and Erik in the other, she managed to keep everyone sane that evening. Outside of these rare moments, though, Erik's mind held together.

Christine had wondered if she was going to have an aloof baby--one with unique capabilities who disliked too much interaction. So far, that wasn't the case. Eva liked to be stimulated and cuddled. She would cry if she went too long without being held. In public, she loved to watch people. Women sometimes gushed over her, and men gave her passing smiles.

Maybe that was the main reason that Eva soon enjoyed watching Erik most of all. He was the one person who ignored her.

Erik first realized that she'd taken interest in him about three months after her birth. His head suddenly jerked in Eva's direction. Noticing that she was watching him, he reached for his mask as though aware for the first time that she was a human being with eyes.

"Don't!" Christine nearly shouted. Startled, Erik turned to stare at her, the mask still dangling from his fingers. "Don't put the mask on," Christine said in a softer voice.

Eva could be the one person in the entire world who would never fear or cringe at Erik's face. She would grow up with it. And Christine didn't want anything to destroy that possibility.

"She stared," Erik stated with disdain.

"She's just watching you." Eva had already closed her eyes and gone to sleep. "See. She doesn't care."

Erik set the mask back down. "Someday she will wonder why…why the individual who provided half of her genetic material is so very ugly."

Christine blinked, noticing how much effort he put into not using the word 'father.' "I'll tell her that your face is different," she said. "But that it's not better or worse than anyone else's face."

Erik groaned and slammed his head onto the pillow. "Allow me to know when you plan on having that inane conversation; I will be in the basement. Or perhaps in another country."

Christine stood up and put Eva to bed, wanting at least a few hours alone with Erik that night. She was also feeling stronger—more able to get up and down. Crawling back into bed, she scooted closer to him. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"I am perfectly fine." He turned to face her, which was always a good sign.

"Thank you for everything," she whispered. "I know it hasn't been easy. But you…you've helped keep us going."

"Erik must keep everyone alive," he replied. "If he cannot do that, then he has failed. Death is easy. Keeping people alive is rather difficult."

"Sometimes it is," she murmured, scooting into his arms. "But it's always worth it." He didn't argue with her last statement. Of course, Eva started crying again at one o'clock in the morning, but they did get some time together.

After awhile, Erik started escaping to the basement if Eva cried for too long. Not wanting to risk his sanity, Christine decided to implement one of her plans.

She called Mrs. Johnston and referenced a conversation they had several months ago. Mrs. Johnston eagerly agreed to watch Eva for two hours every other day at a low price. Her kids were grown but didn't have children of their own; she was suffering from empty nest syndrome.

On the first day of the arrangement, Christine went to Mrs. Johnston's house with a bag full of bottles, diapers, and other baby necessities. Somewhat reluctantly, she handed Eva over as well, giving Mrs. Johnston careful instructions.

"We'll be just fine," said Mrs. Johnston. "I've been dying for some grandchildren, but all my kids want to do is work, work, work. They're going to work themselves to death, I think."

"Heh." Christine nervously stared at her baby. "Well, if she gets really fussy, just give me a call. I'll be right over. Don't be afraid to call."

"I'm sure she'll be fine." Mrs. Johnston turned her attention to Eva. "Won't we be just fine? Yes, we will." She proceeded to make baby noises.

Eva stared at her and blinked but didn't seem disturbed.

Christine finally returned home, feeling worried now that she was without her precious baby for the first time. Erik was watching through the blinds, his eyes narrowed. "She must bring the infant back," he grimly stated as Christine walked inside. "It is yours--not hers. She can acquire her own."

"She will," Christine replied with a laugh. "I just thought you needed a break."

He was tense for a few moments, and Christine was surprised that Erik seemed to care that his daughter was gone. It gave her hope.

"If she does not bring it back, we will retrieve it." He settled down. Placing her hand at the back of his head, she pulled him toward her for a kiss. Erik returned the affection, pulled back, and then said, "Yes. It is quiet now. Perhaps the neighbor woman should borrow the infant now and then."

By this time, Christine was used to his strange attitude toward Eva. As long as Erik was sane and holding everything else together, though, she felt strong enough to be the single parent. After all, lots of women were single mothers. In fact, she felt much luckier than them because she was a single mother with a husband who loved her.

Or maybe that meant she wasn't really a single mother. Eva just had one parent. Kind of.

It was a little confusing. And sometimes sad.

Erik continued to kiss her face and neck, and she turned her attention back to him. It was good to receive physical affection again, and she loved how he was looking at her and touching her. Her Erik. She couldn't resent him; Eva had been her responsibility from the beginning.

Eventually, Christine would find a way to explain it all to her daughter.


After leaving the hospital, Christine appeared frailer than she had since London. While he was thankful that he could get close to her again, he also feared for her health. Even her mental state was a bit…uneven.

Several nights after leaving the hospital, she sat up and exclaimed, "You left! Erik! You left me!"

He had been asleep and nearly bolted up from the bed; her screams always produced an adrenaline rush that prepared him to fight.

Christine was still half-asleep as she stared at him; perspiration coated her forehead. Realizing it was only a nightmare, he had gently touched her arm. "I did not," he finally replied. He could have responded, 'But you did leave for three days.' He had no desire to hurt her at that point, though.

She'd settled back down, and he'd held her until the infant fully awoke her. Christine never gave any sign of remembering that night.

After a few weeks, both her physical and mental state improved. Still, for the first time ever, he actually felt as though she needed him. When she had awoken to find him at the hospital, he had seen the desperation in her eyes. He had always been the one to need her, but now there was a mutual dependence. The new responsibility was both terrifying and relieving.

As far as the infant went, he attempted to avoid direct interaction. He ensured that it was breathing every morning; the infant was important to Christine's happiness and needed to stay alive. Outside of keeping it living, he kept his distance.

For one thing, it was loud. And it sometimes smelled. And it took Christine's attention. And…it had his mother's eyes. After over thirty years, his mother's eyes were staring at him again. At least the gaze held no contempt or shame or disdain—for now.

On the positive side, the infant kept Christine home and close. She only left the house to go to appointments or to shop. And anything that kept Christine nearer was good for him.

He became slightly alarmed when Christine hired the neighbor woman to watch the infant for several hours each week. It took control from him. What if the woman somehow killed it or ran off with it? Christine would become upset.

Once the infant was gone that first afternoon, though, Christine cuddled up beside him. He was thankful for the lack of noise. And now his wife would not be bothered with that incessant screaming.

"You meticulously planned every detail," he stated after kissing her.

"I had to," she said, briefly glancing downward. "I wanted a baby. I didn't want to ruin your life."

He paused before softly answering, "You could not ruin anything."

"I…." She tapered off, obviously unsure of how to respond. "I'm glad you're okay." The muscles in her face relaxed.

Perhaps her discomfort was partly his fault. There had been days when he'd spoken harsh words to her because of his irritation over the infant. His wife did not understand that his current annoyance could not compare to true misery. That raw despair and rage he'd experienced before meeting Christine had become more of a distant memory—the only brief reminder occurring when she left for those three days.

He simply said, "Erik is fine. And Erik's wife is fine."

She hummed in agreement. They spent the afternoon together, and he was more certain that his former misery would remain a distant memory.

Still…it was complicated keeping Christine very close and the infant at a distance. As long as Christine's plans weren't knocked off course, all was fine. But even his wife could not predict everything. And he could not control everything.

After leaving the infant with the neighbor several weeks later, Christine went to the grocery store. He was content at home browsing over the computer for musical equipment. He'd allowed some electronics into his composing so long as they did not interfere with his muse. Several years ago, during one intense piece, he'd accidentally smashed a three hundred dollar keyboard. Christine had not appreciated that.

While he was lost in his thoughts, there were three knocks at the front door. With a growl, he threw on his mask and peeled back the blinds. Mrs. Johnston stood on the porch with the infant carrier in one hand, a small frown on her wrinkled face.

He became tense as she knocked again, louder this time. How dare she come now? She was supposed to watch the infant for another hour. Again, the woman banged her fist on the door. He finally opened it and glared at her for ruining Christine's carefully designed system.

She blinked three times and took a step backward. It took her several moments to speak. "Oh…oh…are…are you Mr. Ackart? Christine's husband? I bet I have the wrong address. I'm so flustered that I—"

"I am Mr. Ackart," he impatiently interrupted. "My wife is not home now. She will come to you in one hour to retrieve the child." He started to shut the door.

"No." She stuck out her free hand to hold the door open. "I…I mean, my daughter just called, and her car broke down on one of the back roads. I need to go help her before it starts raining." She glanced at the cloudy sky and then lifted up the carrier toward him. "I was bringing your daughter back."

"You cannot. Christine is not here."

"But Christine didn't answer her cell phone. And I can't take your daughter while I go help mine. I might be gone for hours. If you could just take Eva, I need to go. Tell Christine I'm sorry. It was an emergency. She doesn't have to pay me for today."

He stared at her, wanting to slam the door closed and run to the basement. "You are supposed to keep the infant for another hour."

"Mr. Ackart," she pathetically pled. "I have to go. I'm worried about my daughter. Please." She thrust the carrier out toward him. "Please take Eva."

He took the handle of the carrier with a trembling hand, heart racing in panic. "My wife will never visit you again!" he spat, heightening himself. "This is unacceptable!"

Mrs. Johnston took another step backwards, eyes widening. "I'm sorry," she stuttered. "But…but I have to go. I'm sorry." She ran back to her car, jumping in and speeding away as rain began to pound against the pavement.

He stared down at the infant in terror. Closing the door to the home, he set the carrier on the carpet, waiting for the child to do something disastrous. It did not take long. The infant squirmed and began to make squealing noises. He tore the telephone receiver from the holder and dialed Christine's cellular phone. Thankfully, she answered after two rings. "Erik?"

"You must come home immediately!" he rasped.

"Why?" she asked, the pitch of her voice rising. "What's wrong?"

"The idiot neighbor woman brought the infant back early. And now it is here! And she is gone."

"Is Eva okay? Is she sick?"

"No! The woman simply left her here for no good reason. And you did not answer your phone when she called you! Get home now."

"I must have been driving and not heard it." He heard her take a deep breath. "Okay, Erik. Calm down. It's going to be fine. What is Eva doing now?"

"Making noise. I am going to the basement."

"No. Please don't do that. She's probably uncomfortable in that seat; it's kind of hot and sticky. Can you lift her out and put her in the crib?"

"No."

"Erik, please," she begged. "If you can do that, I'll take care of everything else when I get home."

"This is wretched," he declared. "It should not be this way. This should not happen. This is not Erik's responsibility." The loud noise was beginning to blur his vision.

"I know. I'm sorry. I'll try to make sure it doesn't happen again. But please, please, please do this for me. I'll get home as soon as I can. Just make her comfortable. And then the noise will stop."

He grunted and set the phone down. Anything that stopped the horrific sound would be welcome. Pulling the carrier up by the handle, he held it over the infant's crib and clicked open the buckles. He tilted it to the side slightly. With the tips of his bony fingers, he managed to scoot the infant out of the carrier and into the crib. It softly landed on its back and stared up at him.

"I did as you requested, and it is still making noise," he said after picking up the phone.

"That's fine." Relief filled her voice. "Thank you, Erik. As long as she's in the crib, I'll take care of everything when I get home."

"But it is making noise. I am going to the basement now."

"Could you at least leave the door open?"

"You will come home. Now. And you will not ever leave when that woman has the infant. She cannot be trusted. And Erik is suffering for it." He practically slammed down the phone as it continued to cry.

"You will stop it!" he exclaimed, looming over the crib. "You will be silent!"

The infant was momentarily quiet, staring up at him with a scrunched up face and wide eyes. Shaking, it then began to scream even louder.

Excellent. The infant already feared him like any good girl should. As soon as it could walk, it would start running away.

"Silence!" he again hollered at it.

And the infant screamed even louder back at him.

And then he screamed at it.

This went on for several moments—a shouting match from Hell.

He gripped the wooden edges of the crib as red flashed in his vision. Was he going to have to gag it?

Then, he suddenly remembered how he could make it be quiet without injuring it. How stupid of him not to recall his little talent!

"You will be silent now," he stated, this time in his most pleasant, mesmerizing voice. "Silent."

The infant finally stopped crying and dreamily gazed up at him. Predictably, it enjoyed his voice. "Yes, you will be quiet now," he continued. "You will leave Erik alone until your mother figure returns and tends to you."

The infant sighed as its eyes started to droop.

"Silent," he continued to murmur in a singsong voice. "Yes. That is right. Silent."

Soon, it was asleep.

Content, he returned to the living room. The task was done, and he had not even used his most dangerous (non-lethal) weapon—a song. Perhaps that would come in handy on another day.

He settled on the couch to work, utterly pleased with himself. Christine came running through the door less than ten minutes later. She threw two grocery bags on the floor and dashed into the nursery. "Oh. Good! She's asleep. I was afraid she'd be upset."

"No," he replied. "It is fine. All is well."

After remaining in the nursery another moment, Christine walked back into the living room. Her lips were pursed as she looked down at him. "How long did it take Eva to fall asleep?"

"Minutes, perhaps." He shifted, wondering if perhaps Christine might be…upset by his actions.

"That's strange. It usually takes me an hour to get her to sleep in the afternoon. I always have to feed her first."

He shrugged. "Perhaps you do not bore the child as I do."

"But she's fascinated by you. I can never get her to sleep when you're around."

"Hm."

Christine crossed her arms. "Did you...what did you do?"

"I put it to sleep."

"And how did you…you used your voice, didn't you? Oh, Erik."

"Yes. And it was extremely effective." He paused as his wife's eyes narrowed. "Are you angry with Erik?"

"I…don't know." Christine stared at the rug and nibbled on her bottom lip.

"The infant is uninjured and silent. All is well, my wife."

"Yes. But…." She sighed, and it took her nearly five minutes to dwell on it. Finally, Christine glanced up and said, "Maybe if you need to put her to sleep, like today when it was kind of an emergency, it's fine. But…but don't do it too much. And don't use your voice to do make her do things. Please don't use it to control her."

"Why? We could have the child cleaning the house, making dinner, and using the bathroom in no time." He enjoyed the expression on Christine's face.

"Erik!"

"I will not manipulate the child's mind," he assured her. "It is merely…like a strong lullaby." Christine continued to frown in thought. "Sit down and rest. Calm down. Put your feet up." He used the voice on her, and she instantly obeyed. Christine was very capable of resisting his voice when consciously aware of it. As her mind was in another place, though, she was more vulnerable to his commands.

She blinked up at him from her new position, realized what he'd done, and then half-glared. "Like that. See!"

"Erik will only use it as a last resort," he stated. "How is that?"

"Someday Eva is going to be able to talk," Christine muttered. "And then she'll let me know everything you do when I'm gone."

He scoffed. "No. You will always take her…it with you. And it cannot come into Erik's basement."

The infant awoke and began to make noises again. Christine slyly smiled as she stood and made her way to the nursery. "She'll find a way in."

"I will install a little alarm down there so that I am aware of any intruders."

Christine was cooing to the infant and didn't reply. He would get his revenge later. Perhaps he would appear behind her and grab her around the waist, thereby making his wife scream. She hated that.

The panic and fear of earlier had completely faded during their banter. Christine was home, and all was well. With careful planning, such an event would never happen again.

Christine called Mrs. Johnston and gently requested that she leave the infant with another neighbor if that ever happened again. "My husband is ill," she explained. "He can't really take care of the baby."

Perhaps he should have been offended that Christine referred to him as 'ill,' but he was not. This was all part of the situation. He took care of Christine, and Christine cared for the other.

A week or so later, Christine carried the infant into the living room, holding it against her shoulder. As usual, the child turned its head and stared at him as Christine directed her attention to the television. He continued to wish that it did not have Madeleine's eyes. He was constantly reminded of his mother.

His timid, angry, shamed, disappointed mother.

There was nothing remarkable about that evening. Nothing unusual had happened during the day, and all was smooth with Christine. There was no reason for the sudden realization that entered his mind at that moment.

It was a sharp thought—as though a neuron had nearly exploded with the revelation. The thought was so disturbing that his mind nearly repressed it. He did not want to consider it.

He excused himself and ran to the basement. Christine didn't say anything; she was used to him dashing down there whenever his muse was active. This had nothing to do with music, though. He bypassed his instruments and fell onto the couch as the epiphany continued to mock him.

He had very few good memories of his mother. She was not the cause of his mind's destruction; Falcon easily won that prize. But Madeleine was the first person to teach him that he was not welcome in the world. Perhaps she was even the first small crack in his sanity.

What if Eva…?

But Madeleine had desired a child! Her disappointment was her own damned fault; no one had ever promised her beautiful children. In contrast, he had not wanted offspring. Eva was Christine's—not his. He had absolutely no responsibility! Christine even said so!

And Madeleine had the potential to be a decent mother. Her bucolic, religious, wealthy upbringing was nearly ideal.

And him? He had no absolutely no potential. What kind of father was a deformed, reclusive, criminal-in-hiding supposed to be? When mothers saw him walking down the street, they grabbed their children and ran. The infant was better off if he stayed away from it. Wasn't it?

And Eva would at least have a perfect mother to look fondly back on—a vast improvement over the vague relationship he'd had with Nadir.

Yet all these excuses did not change the fact.

Would he damage the infant by ignoring it? Would he be a crack in its sanity? Would he be to Eva…as Madeleine was to him?

He refused to think about it any longer. This was Christine's responsibility—not his! If the infant grew up to be damaged, it was Christine's burden. It was.

It was.

Eventually, he returned to the surface, determined to ignore the revelation.

"Is everything all right?" asked Christine.

The infant turned its head to watch him.

"Yes," he replied. He sat on the couch and attempted to ignore it.

He continued to ignore it for the next few days, devoting all his attention to Christine. But the infant continued to watch him. And he could no longer deny that he feared ruining it. If there was one person in the world to whom he never wanted to be compared, it was Madeleine. How vile.

What if he…pretended to accept the infant? Christine would still hold all responsibility for its upbringing. But perhaps if he gave Eva some attention, he would not damage the child's mind as severely. It would be another gift for Christine; she would be very upset if her child became insane.

He did not know where to begin. For the next few weeks, he simply stared back at the infant while it made noises at him. Christine once nervously laughed and asked, "Are you two having a staring contest?"

He grunted, not wishing to explain the seriousness of the situation. In fact, he didn't really want his wife to know about his revelation.

That was why he waited until Christine was taking a nap one afternoon before allowing the child to touch him. He hovered over both of them, staring down at the two physically perfect creatures.

The infant was becoming more coordinated and aware; her eyes were more knowing. Lying against her sleeping mother, Eva reached out a hand to him. He permitted the child to grab his finger for all of five seconds, not trusting her to do anything else. If the infant had any intelligence, she would have screamed rather than smiled at the contact. Perhaps Christine overestimated the child's aptitude.

He removed his finger from the infant's grasp before Christine awoke. He left them on the couch and went to the basement, feeling accomplished for the day. There would be no more misshapen links in the Ackart chain.

And he didn't even wash his hand.