Hey, everyone! Here is the next vignette. Tax season is upon us, so I've been a little worn out. Hopefully, I'll still get a chapter out every several weeks.

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

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The early morning hours had been some of her favorite times during their marriage…lying in bed with Erik before confronting the challenges of the day. Erik always seemed more relaxed, his muscles unwound and his breathing quiet. He could carry on conversations that were nearly normal, sharing stories from his past on occasion.

Since Eva's birth, they hadn't had many of those moments. Eva would start crying, and Christine had to tend to her. Of course, those times with her daughter were precious in their own way. Still, she missed spending the mornings with Erik.

And that was why a small smile graced Christine's face when Eva finally decided to sleep later. After glancing at the red digits on the alarm clock, she reached for Erik, wrapping an arm around his bare torso and scooting against him. He pressed a cold kiss to her forehead and then paused.

"Why is the infant not screeching?" he inquired, his gaze falling on the clock.

"Enjoy it," she replied with a laugh, trying to pull him in for another kiss.

He kept his head raised. "What if she is dead?"

"Erik!"

"You will be very upset if she is dead." He jumped out of the bed and left the room. A light flashed on. Moments later, Eva began to whine, likely startled by Erik's intrusion into her nursery.

"She is alive," Erik declared, returning to the room and lowering himself onto the bed. "You should not worry."

Shaking her head, Christine stood to retrieve her crying daughter. So much for a romantic morning.

The next time that Eva decided to sleep a little late, though, Christine managed to keep her husband in bed. "Eva's just growing up," she explained. "She'll cry less. You should be…happy."

"Oh." He seemed satisfied with the explanation, but Christine still wasn't able to discern his feelings toward Eva.

She had noticed him watching his daughter more. Christine avoided commenting on it for fear of discouraging Erik's attention toward Eva. If staring contests were the way that he chose to interact with her, well…it was certainly better than nothing.

It was a combination of two events that led Christine to make another momentous decision—although certainly not as significant as having a child.

First, she met Justin McKenzie outside one autumn day. Ever since Eva was born, Christine had noticed him keeping his distance and eyeing her with a wary frown. Was he annoyed that he'd been forced to drive her to the hospital? Carrying Eva in one arm, Christine decided to approach him. He nodded at her and then briefly smiled at Eva. Justin then glanced up and nearly scowled at her front door.

"How are you?" asked Christine.

He looked back at her. "I'm good. How 'bout yourself? Busy with the little one?"

"Always. But I'm good." She paused; he didn't seem mad. "I wanted to tell you 'thank you' for helping me out that day. It was wonderful of you."

His shoulders tensed. "No…problem."

"If there's anything we can do for you, just call."

"Yeah."

She shifted Eva to her other arm. "Well…see you later. Thanks again." Christine started to turn and head back inside.

"Christine." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Yeah?" She whirled to face him, her stomach turning with unease.

"That day I drove you to the hospital…after I got home…."

"Yeah?"

"Your husband…."

Her eyes widened. "What about him?"

"I told him he should visit you there. Just thought it would nice; I didn't mean anything by it. Anyway, Erik cornered and…uh, threatened me. Maybe he was just tense considering…. But I was a little afraid for my life." Justin nervously chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Oh." She swallowed, her lips brushing against Eva's forehead. "Justin, I'm so sorry. When Erik gets stressed, he can be…difficult."

"It's fine. He didn't actually do anything. I've been keeping my distance, you know?"

"Yeah." She sighed. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine. You know, with Katherine, I'm used to weird stuff."

"Yeah." Christine wasn't even sure what to say anymore.

"I guess there always has to be a saner one in any marriage," he continued.

"Umm…."

"It's a rough job, huh? Being the rock. I mean, I'm a guy with no kids; I can handle it." He stared intensely at her. "But you…I see you over there with that baby girl now…doing it all on your own…."

"I'm fine," she stated through dry lips. Eva squirmed in her arms, likely growing too warm. "I love my family."

"You are fine," he agreed.

"I am."

"But sometimes…I can't help but think someone should be over there taking care of you for once."

She flinched. "I do have someone taking care of me." He started to speak, but she interrupted him. "Don't, Justin. Just don't. I've had this conversation more times than I'd like to count--including with a very dear friend. He finally gave up and has his own wonderful family. I hope you find that, too. Anyway, thank you again for your help. I…I won't ask for it anymore." Christine turned around and left him there, Eva safely in her arms.

Once inside, Christine placed Eva in her carrier and collapsed onto the couch. After a second, she hopped back up and went to look at herself in the bathroom mirror. Tilting her head, she stared at her reflection, wondering why people always assumed she was miserable. Her face was a little thinner than she preferred; she certainly looked older than she had ten years ago. But that was because she was ten years older!

Christine returned to the living room. When Erik walked up from the basement, she stared at him. Eva turned and watched him as well, her little eyes lighting up. Christine still hadn't found at toy that interested Eva as much as her father interested her. Given the choice between watching Erik and a small robotic teddy bear that played a saxophone, Eva had practically smacked the poor bear to the floor.

Christine hesitated. She didn't want to accuse him, but it seemed important that Erik knew there might be a problem. "Erik?"

"Yes?"

"Justin said you…intimidated him on the day Eva was born."

He dismissively waved a hand to the side. "McKenzie tends to intrude into business that is not his concern. I was merely putting him in his place. No harm was done."

"Oh. I see." She chewed on the inside of her lip. "I'm wondering if we should consider moving soon."

Erik stood up straight, eyes glowing. "Why? Is that idiot informing the authorities? I did not place a hand on him! If he even considers pressing charges, I will go over there now and--"

"No, no, no!" If she wasn't careful, Justin was going to be more than intimidated by Erik. "I just…think it may be time to move on. We've stayed here long enough."

"But that is Erik's basement." He slouched.

"I'm sure we can find you a new basement. Maybe it's time for our own house."

"A house? That is away from other people?"

She smiled, watching as his expression changed from disdain to interest. "Maybe. Wouldn't it be nice to own a home?"

"It might be suitable to do so. We would not be bothered by idiot neighbors."

"Yes. We would have more privacy."

His eyes drifted to the side, and she could practically see him calculating all the pros and cons in his mind. After a moment, he glanced back up at her. "If my wife wishes for a house, then she should have one. It only must have a basement."

"I'll start looking for one," she replied. Eva made a noise as though in agreement.

Feeling braver about the idea, Christine began to house hunt, searching for a place that was neither too crowded nor isolated. If nothing suitable popped up, they might have to design their own. Erik might like that. Although…he'd probably try to install hidden passageways in it. She finally found some homes situated in more rural areas but close enough to population centers for food and other necessities. Her plan was to bring Erik out at night so that he could decide whether he liked any of them.

Christine was distracted from her project when Eva became ill two weeks later. A small cold rapidly developed into a nasty ear infection, and Eva was left screaming and clawing at her ear. She wailed all throughout the visit to the pediatrician, and the antibiotics were taking awhile to work. By nighttime, Christine was nearly ready to cry along with her baby.

Erik stood there with his arms folded, twitching every few moments as though the noise was putting him on edge. Christine rubbed her daughter's back, but it wasn't doing any good.

"Erik? Could you make her sleep?" Christine finally asked, placing her forehead in her hands. "Maybe your voice will help with the pain."

"Ah," he taunted as though he'd been expecting her request. "So now you want Erik's voice."

"Erik, please. I'm desperate. I told you it was okay in situations like this."

"My wife does not know what she wants."

"Erik! Please!" Christine nearly had to scream over Eva.

"Very well."

Erik sang what sounded like a French hymn, and Eva was immediately silent. Christine soon fell asleep in the cushioned rocking chair, tranquilized by her husband's voice. Hours later, she awoke, groggy and with a dry throat. The lights were dim, and all she could make out was Erik bending over Eva with his right hand reaching into the crib.

Christine jumped out of the chair, sending it rocking back into the wall with a crash.

Erik stood straight up and stared at her. "What is wrong?"

"What are you doing?" she asked, her heart pounding. Leaping up so fast had made her dizzy, and she grabbed the bar of the crib to steady herself. Eva blinked up at her.

"Nothing," he haughtily replied. "She is no longer ill." In his hand was a yellow plastic ball. Erik could make the small object disappear between his fingers. Christine had seen him doing it repetitively when stressed or when experiencing difficulty with his muse.

"What are you doing with that?" she softly asked, still foggy-headed.

"Merely…I do not know. What does it matter?"

"Are you doing magic tricks for her?" He didn't answer, and she took his silence as a 'yes.' "You're playing with her?" Christine felt her eyes start to fill with happy tears.

"What? You thought Erik was harming the infant?" he harshly inquired.

"No, no. I--"

"Erik has let it live this long. Why would he hurt it now?" His voice took on a mocking tone that he didn't use with her often.

"No. I--"

"Why do you stay if you think me such a monster?"

"Erik! Stop it! I don't think that! I know you wouldn't hurt her. But how am I supposed to always know what you're thinking? You barely look at Eva all this time; I thought you hated her. And now you're suddenly playing with her? How am I supposed to know?" She started to cry, the exhaustion of the day wearing heavily upon her. "I'm tired. I just woke up and saw you sticking your hand in her crib. I had no idea…."

Her eyes were too blurry to see, but she sensed Erik moving. She wondered if he was going to run to the basement and brood for the rest of the night. Instead, she felt a hand on her back. "Calm down," he murmured. "Never mind. It does not matter. It does not matter."

Christine turned to him and pressed her wet cheek against his chest. "You…don't hate her? You don't hate your daughter, right?"

Erik tensed. "If she believes I hate her, she will wonder why. She must not think that. It is not good for her mind."

"So you…you're doing it to make her feel better?"

"No. Yes. No. I do not know. Why must you analyze it? I am doing magic tricks for her so she will not scream. It appeases everyone. Why must there be a reason behind it? It simply makes sense."

"Yes," she softly replied. The conversation was going in circles. "You're right. It doesn't matter." Christine took a deep breath. "I'm glad you're giving her some attention. It makes me…very happy."

His eyes softened. Erik had a difficult time dealing with his own feelings toward people. But if he only had to understand his actions made her happy, it seemed to bring him clarity. "I love my wife," he stated.

Christine yawned, too tired to make any more sense out of the situation.

"The infant is not in pain now," he stated. "You should sleep."

"Would you think I was silly if I asked you to carry me to bed?"

"Yes. But Erik will do it anyway." His lip twitched as he lifted her up. Christine thought it was better for both of them if he got to be the strong one that night.

She continued to let Erik find his own way when it came to his daughter. He disliked making too much contact or fulfilling any of her basic needs, but he'd occasionally talk to Eva or do a few magic tricks. And he'd sing to her whenever she was upset or sick.

Everything was moving forward so well that Christine was wary of disrupting the peace with more talk of finding a new home. Justin hadn't bothered her again, and she didn't feel threatened. Maybe what Erik and Eva needed was simple stability.

It was a conversation with Mr. Richardson that changed her mind again.

They met several times a year to discuss Erik's compositions. Although he was a bit boisterous, Mr. Richardson had done an amazing job of keeping secrets. Maybe he knew what a money-maker he had with the music. Or maybe he was actually a decent human being.

Christine noticed a small scowl on his face as she sat across from him at the large desk. He scratched his ear and folded his hands together, leaning forward slightly and looking her in the eye. She swallowed and shifted in her chair.

"So you've got a little girl now?" he began as though grateful for a distraction.

"Yeah. She's with my sitter." Christine wished he would skip the pleasantries. Maybe it was the result of living with Erik all these years, but she'd learned to appreciate directness.

"How old is she?"

"Getting close to five months."

"Wow. Great." He cleared his throat.

"Is anything wrong?"

"Well…I thought you should know something. Now it's not that big of a deal. It may be nothing, actually."

"What?" Her heart was beating faster.

"One of our new employees in the finance department stumbled over your name and…managed to piece some things together. He's an obnoxious but bright kid. One of those type A personalities trying to climb their way up the ladder, you know what I mean?"

"What…what does he know?"

"He knows your first name, and he knows you might be acquainted with Mr. Mysterious. I don't think it's a big deal. First of all, there's only so much he can find out about you by digging through our files. We don't have much on record. Secondly, we're talking about a composer…not a pop star or an actor."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, you don't exactly see John Williams on the front of the tabloids every week. The identity of Mr. Mysterious isn't going to be the year's biggest news, and I doubt too many reporters are dying to get their hands on the info." He paused. "Still…I thought you should know."

She wasn't completely comforted. "What should I do?"

"Well…maybe be prepared if anyone tries to contact you. Try not to give out too much information about yourself."

Christine leaned back into the chair, feeling as though a rock had floated to the bottom of her stomach. "I don't want anyone near my family." She hesitated. "If anyone finds out too much, tell them I'm the composer. Tell them it's me. Then they won't dig any deeper."

His eyes lit up. "I thought so!" Mr. Richardson exclaimed. "I thought it was you the whole time! Your name is on all the checks. And you're a singer, after all!"

She grunted and decided not to acknowledge or deny it. "Only tell people that if they start finding out too much. Otherwise, don't say anything. Try to keep them away. Please."

His smile faded. "You should be out there winning awards, you know? Why not step into the spotlight for a couple of moments?"

"No." She shook her head and nearly glared. "I don't want awards; I want to be left alone. But if some stupid…stupid boy wants to play detective, then I might not have a choice."

"You're a strange one, Mrs. Ackart. Then again, what artist isn't a little out there?"

"I think I'll also be moving soon," she continued, her gaze drifting to the floor. "Maybe somewhere quiet and more private."

"Oh? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. It's just time to move on."

"Will you still be composing?" The disappointment was evident in his voice.

"Probably. But maybe I'll stop sending the music to you until we--I mean, I get the all clear. Just to be on the safe side." She looked down at her hands.

"I understand. Good luck with everything. I'll try to keep that dumb kid out of your business. I'd fire him outright, but his father is on the Board. "

"Thanks." That dumb kid was going to be in for a surprise if he ever tried to show up at the Ackart house. Several morbid thoughts skipped through her mind.

"And I promise to ensure that all your information is kept locked up from this point forward. You'll be dealing directly with me from now on. You have my word."

"Thanks. Anything you can do to make this problem go away would be appreciated. And then maybe I can do business with you again." She placed emphasis on the last sentence, hoping it would push him into taking action. Christine then shook Mr. Richardson's hand and left.

Eventually, she'd tell Erik about the potential problem. First, she wanted to ensure that they were as safe as possible, mostly to stop Erik from taking any actions of his own. Christine began to house hunt again, searching for a place that was farther from the cities than originally planned.

She also phoned Gavin, wanting to explain the situation in case her name ever popped up in the evening news and also desiring to visit with him after a good number of years. Erik had never forgiven him for the incident concerning the serial killer, and Christine thought Gavin's marriage might improve without her nearby. The end of their friendship had been a natural occurrence. To her relief, though, he sounded happy to hear from her and agreed to a lunch meeting.

She smiled as she saw Gavin again. Like Raoul, he'd gotten broader. He wore a short beard and looked well-traveled—almost like a professor.

"How are you?" she asked, giving him a hug.

"I'm good. How 'bout yourself?" He stepped back and studied her. His gaze then fell to a sleeping Eva, and he slowly smiled.

"I'm great." They stepped into a booth and let the waitress take their drink order. It'd been awhile since she went out to eat with anyone. "What have you been up to?"

He shrugged and leaned back. "Oh. The usual. I traveled for awhile. After I got tired of that, I came home to be with my family. I taught a few college classes. And I've been doing some work on a campaign for a congressman."

"Wow. Exciting! That's wonderful. How is your family?"

"We're…pretty good." From his tone, she could tell there still might be a few marriage problems. "I have a son now; he's two and enjoys tearing the house apart." Gavin glanced down. "And you look like you've got one of your own, too. She's adorable." He paused. "That's…she is…Erik's?"

Christine rolled her eyes. "Yes, Gavin. What kind of girl do you think I am?"

"No. I just…I mean, it's kind of strange to think of her as his…."

Eva awoke, and Christine pulled her daughter into her lap. "Well, she is Erik's. Completely."

"Wow," he murmured. Gavin bent down toward her. "Hi there, Eva-boo." Eva smiled at him, and he studied her for a few more moments, probably searching for a glimpse of Erik. "She brings back memories of Rose at that age."

"How is Rose?"

"She's great. Looks just like her mother and is getting closer to the dreaded teenage years." Gavin gave a fake shudder. "I'm going to have to fight off the boys soon." His eyes widened. "Jesus. Erik's eventually going to have to do that, too."

"Don't even bring that up. I'll be lucky to get her through grade school without any incidents."

"Yeah. Well, if a bunch of teenage boys start mysteriously disappearing in about fifteen years, I'll know that little Eva has started dating."

Christine groaned. "Shut up, Gavin."

He tickled one of Eva's bootie-clad feet. "You're never going to have a boyfriend. No you're not."

Eva squealed. Christine glared.

He laughed and glanced back up. "Heh. Just…kidding." They made a little more small talk concerning their lives and families. Christine didn't get into too much detail concerning the difficulties Erik was having with fatherhood, and Gavin never elaborated on any problems at home. She did eventually tell him about Erik's composing and the sudden need for privacy. "Maybe it's nothing," she murmured. "But I think we may get far away for awhile. I think Erik will be happier, too."

"Yeah. I understand. Some people can't mind their own damn business." He paused. "If worse comes to worse, I could write a short article on you. I mean a fake piece about you being a composer. I'll make it as boring as possible."

"That might help. Thanks, Gavin. You've done so much for us."

"Let me tell you; I've made good money on our little adventure. I should probably be paying you for all the doors that opened for me."

She smiled. "I'm glad." They were both silent for a moment, perhaps remembering those times in London. "Anyway, Erik and I will also be moving soon. To our own house—probably somewhere secluded."

"I'm actually surprised you didn't do that long ago," he replied. "Move away from everyone, I mean."

"I guess…I finally feel strong enough to do it."

"I see." They shared a few more words over their meal, mostly light-hearted conversation about their children.

"Tell your family 'hello'," she said at the end. "Maybe we'll run into each other again one day."

"Sure. Stop by if you're ever up here. And let me know if you need any help." Gavin smiled down at Eva. "And you behave--meaning take after your mother."

They parted, and Christine returned home, feeling somewhat consoled. After thinking it over, she decided that no one would be able to figure out Erik's past. There were no records or evidence. All of the murders during that time period had been attributed to an internal war at Falcon. No—the worst that could happen would be the exposure of Erik's face. And his face was no crime.

Still…Christine would move to the Arctic before she'd let anyone expose her family. Eva would look adorable in one of those Eskimo hats.

She didn't want to wait for a custom house to be built. If Erik didn't like parts of the home, he could always remodel. After spending entire days searching, Christine found a brick house that seemed suitable. It was three stories including the basement, fairly big but nowhere near a mansion. The nearest neighbor was about half a mile away. From the flower garden and grinning lawn gnomes, she guessed that the residents were older.

During the evening, Christine took Erik to see it and get his final opinion. As he stepped out of the car, his gaze wandered over the green grass that covered the lawn and the wide, empty space. Eva was still sleeping in her car seat when Christine lifted her out of the vehicle. Because the weather was cold, it was silent. If it had been warmer, Christine was sure that insects would be chirping all around them.

"Yes," Erik slowly stated. "We will have our own house with no one to bother us."

She was about to explain that she didn't have a key, but Erik maneuvered the front door open within a few seconds. Hiding a smile, she walked in behind him as he made an immediate dash to the basement. Christine could see the delight in his eyes when he came back upstairs. Erik inspected the rest of the home before returning to the entryway.

"Well?" she asked.

"It is ours…although I may make a few minor adjustments. The window in our bedroom is much too large. The sun will creep in every morning and blind both of us."

Christine beamed and wrapped an arm around his torso. He kissed the top of her head. She could practically feel Erik claiming the home as his own…daring anyone else to get near it.

"Everything in here will be mine," he stated as they departed.

"Even Eva?"

"Everything."