Hey, guys! There will be a shorter epilogue after this vignette that takes place a couple years later, and then that will be the end. I thank everyone who had the patience to stick with me on this story. I continue to enjoy all of your comments, and I'm glad that many of you love these characters so much. I've grown very close to them as well. And that is why I want to leave E/C and Eva with many years of life still in front of them.

A big thanks to MadLizzy for editing and sticking with me.

Read and Review!!!

It still occurred every several months; he would enter a darker mood and remain in the basement for an entire day. Usually, it was caused by something simple. Recently, a movie had put him into foul spirits.

A beautiful woman and a vilely handsome man were holding sticks of pink cotton candy and walking around dusty fairgrounds in the daytime. Christine was half-napping with Eva beside her. He was drinking hot tea. And, suddenly, he glimpsed himself in the reflection of his glass cup. He would never escort Christine anywhere in broad daylight all because of this! How dare Christine put movies on that taunted him! That did it for the day. He marched to the basement.

"Da!" Eva called behind him.

"Sh, sweetheart," he heard Christine whisper. "Remember how we talked about alone time?"

Christine knew. She didn't always understand why, but she had long ago learned to recognize those moments and to give him his space.

In the end, he always remembered what he did have. Even though the past occasionally crept up on him, the present always defeated it. He always came back upstairs, usually late at night. And all he had to do was touch his wife on the shoulder, and she would roll over and into his arms.

Those darker moments were rarer now. For the most part, he sat in his kingdom with a sense of peace. Despite their occasional troubles, his happiness had only grown over the years.

And he was enjoying the hours spent with Eva. No matter what he said, she attentively listened. He could see a hunger for knowledge in her eyes—a need to understand the world. Eva had taken to patting his leg when she wanted to sit on the couch with him. If he was occupied, she would merely curl up on the cushion and hold her toys. If he said, "And what do you wish to read today?" she would offer him a book and clap her hands. He wanted his offspring to be intelligent. The ignorant suffered the most.

Today, he made the offer, and Eva eagerly handed a book to him. He glanced at it and glared. "No. No. We are not reading about a talking mouse. That is ridiculous. We will read about string theory." Eva pointed at a string sticking out of her shirt. "No. Now listen."

In the mornings, he read to her until she said, "Yum, yum." That meant she desired food. He usually reached onto the small table beside the sofa and took a butter cookie from a plastic package. He handed it to her, and she grinned.

"There," he stated. "Now you are fed." He began to read again.

Christine wasn't fond of him feeding her sweets. But he was not fond of the disgusting mush kept in jars, refusing to go near something that looked like a squished frog. Besides, Eva enjoyed the cookies more than the green slime.

Of course, Christine usually entered unaware and asked, "Eva, sweetheart, is it your lunchtime now?"

"No," Eva replied. She pointed at the book to indicate they were busy.

"Oh. Well, let me know when you're hungry. Erik, let me know when she's hungry."

"Yes, my wife." He discreetly tucked the cookies away and returned to the book.

Outside of the mush, there were fewer repulsive issues to deal with as time passed. Months back, when he had been very agitated over the idea of a child, he had informed Christine that slitting someone's jugular vein was more pleasant than a diaper. And he still felt that way. (Actually slitting a jugular vein had never been so terrible, but his wife did not need to know these things.) Fortunately, Christine was resolving that issue altogether, and Eva was a fast learner. She was also beginning to feed herself.

But then there were still those moments when Christine was…much better than he was.

One night, he stepped outside, and Eva quickly ran out behind him. He didn't mind, desiring fresh air and not solitude. The scent of rain lingered, and clouds covered the moon. It was perfect. They walked out to near the swing set, their shoes squishing against the damp grass. And then suddenly he heard a clank. He turned to see Eva fall to her knees by the slide and begin to cry. He desperately searched for Christine, but she was inside showering. Damn.

He crouched down and poked Eva's shoulder. "It is fine," he said. "You are fine. You are not dying." She continued to sob and clutch her knee. "You must not make such noises. You will disturb the nocturnal creatures. Do you want a raccoon to attack you?" The humor didn't help. Finally, he picked her up, intending to carry her to Christine, even if he had to drag his wife out of the shower.

Before he could react, Eva wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him, burying her face into his shoulder. And he just…let her. He sat on the sofa with her still clinging and sniffling, unsure of what to do except occasionally pat her head. Christine finally emerged, staring at them in shock and nearly dropping the white towel that was wrapped around her torso.

"You should take her," he awkwardly stated. "She believes she is injured."

Blinking, Christine gently took Eva from him and cooed words of comfort to her. She then carried Eva into the bathroom to tend to her wounds.

Yes, Christine was much better in those situations. But…the child did belong to him. He wished for her presence, and the thought of anyone taking Eva angered him. He wanted his family beneath one roof, undisturbed by the outside world. He could monitor and protect everyone in the home. His.

And that was how it remained for some time. He read and taught his daughter various subjects at least four times a week. The rest of his time was spent composing, reading, enjoying his wife's company, or walking around his land and creating architectural plans. He intended to build a porch and other additions to the home, perhaps even a camouflaged cellar where they could hide in the case of an emergency. Only on rare occasions would he leave his home and go into the city for a nighttime walk with his family. Once Christine had requested it on their anniversary, and he could not deny her.

As time passed, there were occasional arguments concerning Eva's lessons. This especially was true after she began to speak clearly.

"What that?" she asked, turning on the sofa to face him. The cable news was on television, discussing the latest military dispute.

"A tank," he replied, casting a glance away from his composition and toward the screen.

"Tank?"

"It is a machine of war designed to destroy large structures and…annihilate a large number of enemies at one time. It also protects its occupants."

"Oh." She watched it rumble across a desert for a few moments. "Can I…has' one?"

He laughed jubilantly. "I would love one, dear child. But your mother insists on her wimpy car and will not let us have it."

Of course, the first thing Eva said when Christine entered was, "Mommy…won' let us…has' that." She pointed at the television.

Christine frowned. "I'm not sure if she should watch the news. Especially with all the violence."

He scoffed. "My child will be fully prepared to deal with the horrors of this world. She will not be shielded from reality. That is the only way she will know her enemies."

"But it might scare her."

"Nonsense. She simply desires an M1 Abrams. And you are the one who will not allow her to have it."

"Mommy bad," Eva agreed.

Christine rolled her eyes and walked away. "Fine. We'll get her a tank when she turns sixteen."

"Yeah!" exclaimed Eva.

Of course, he chased after his wife and grabbed her from behind, letting her know it was all in play. Christine screeched it surprise and then folded her arms across her chest.

"You do not wish for a war machine?" he asked, refusing to release her. She could never get away.

"When I was a little girl, I wanted a pony," Christine complained with a sniff.

"Yes, but a tank will be less trouble," he replied. "No one will have to feed it or clean up after it, you see?"

Christine relaxed and leaned back against him. "I just…don't want her to think the world is too scary," she replied. "She's only two and a half."

"And she will be educated from an early age. No one will ever be able to take advantage of her."

"But not everyone will treat her badly, Erik."

"Not in the way they treated me," he icily replied. "No. She is physically fine. But that makes her more vulnerable to other evils—to depraved men who wish to prey upon her."

"Well, we'll teach her how to protect herself," said Christine.

"Later we will. She only needs to recognize her enemies. She is safe from them in this house." He kissed his wife's cheek and neck.

"Da! What that?" Eva called from the living room.

"You'd better go tell her," said Christine, finally smiling and giving him a kiss. "You started this."

He returned to the living area and looked at that screen. "That…is a nuclear warhead."

"Oh." A pause. "Can I…has' one?"


There was so much love in their little world that Christine didn't want to disturb it. She let the next months progress without any major changes, the three of them living simply in their home. Eva received an education that included some concepts college students were probably studying. Whether she understood any of it was up to debate but….

And Christine could see the growing affection in Erik's eyes. It wasn't intense and obsessive love. Rather, it was a simple but warm fondness--an appreciation for Eva and her mental development from an infant and into a little girl.

Still, sometimes Christine worried that Eva would lose her childhood too fast while growing up with only two adults for company, especially with an adult who had a particularly dark view of the world. Christine didn't want Eva to become so cynical that she lost all appreciation for forms of fantasy and play. And friendship.

One night, Christine started to read a book that featured talking cats and dogs dressed in clothing. Eva stopped her after the second page.

"Dogs no talk," she stated, pointing at a French poodle dressed in a purple skirt. "And no clothes."

Christine hesitated. "Yes. I know they don't talk. But this is just a fun book, sweetheart. It's just…silly fun."

"But they don' talk. Da' says no." Eva frowned at her.

Christine tossed the book aside. "Fine. What do you want to read?"

Eva smiled and pointed at a collection of Poe's poems that Erik had left in the room.

"Well, that has a talking raven," Christine replied in triumph. "Ravens don't really talk."

"Raben' is…seem-ball-ick," explained Eva.

"I can't believe you even know the word 'symbolic,'" Christine muttered beneath her breath before taking out the morbid book of poems.

The following day, a somewhat frustrated Christine took Eva to a giant play complex for kids. Even Eva couldn't resist the colorful balls, tubes, and moonwalks in the section for smaller children, giggling as she ran to them and climbed inside. She eventually found another little girl, and they rolled a giant rubber ball back and forth to each other. The day was completed with steaming slices of cheese pizza.

"Did you like that?" Christine asked, holding her hand as they walked outside together and into the sunlight.

"Yeah!" Eva exclaimed. She rapidly babbled about all she did for several moments, but Christine could only pick up the words "ball" and "bouncy."

That night, Christine read a story about talking bears living on the moon. Eva was too exhausted from her adventure to complain about them.

The following day, Christine prepared Eva to go the park. She tied little pink sneakers onto her daughter's feet and rubbed her with creamy sun block lotion.

"Where are you going?" asked Erik. He'd been suspicious about their previous outing, although Christine explained that Eva had been antsy and desperately needed to leave the house.

"I'm just going to take her to the park."

"But she has a swing set in the yard. What? Do you wish me to build picnic tables as well? Or one of those idiotic gazebos?"

"No. It has nothing to do with what's at the park. She needs to get out and see other people sometimes."

"Why?"

"Because she has to learn to interact and play and share with other children."

"Why?"

"Because…." Christine sighed and turned to him. "Erik, don't you wish your mother had let you out of the house when you were a kid?"

He flinched and then scowled. "My mother was likely keeping me alive."

"Your mother was keeping you isolated. She took your childhood from you, and I still resent her for that. Don't you want Eva to be able to interact with people? To eventually go to college or get a job or see the world?"

"I…."

"We'll start slowly," she continued. "Only to the park and picnics and some children's activities. Like Easter egg hunts. We can home school her for awhile…see how she does. There are lots of activities for homeschooled kids. But we can't keep her locked up with no one but us."

"And what is wrong with us?" he asked in a nasty voice.

"Nothing! But she needs to meet other people."

With a snarl, Erik stalked off and down to the basement. Christine threw her hands up into the air but decided to give him some time. Bending down, she twisted Eva's hair into curly pigtails, finding her adorable in a pair of purple overalls with white polka dots.

Eva pulled out the pigtails. "No," she stated.

"But they're so cute!"

"No."

"Well, then how do you want to wear your hair?"

Eva pointed to a white hat. She loved her hat collections, probably because her father wore one when he left the house.

"Fine." Christine surrendered. "You can have the hat."

"Hat," Eva agreed.

After that incident, they had another successful outing. Eva toddled around the playground and occasionally interacted with the other children. A little boy was even kind enough to give her a few pushes on a swing, which nearly brought a tear to Christine's eye. She realized that she was going to have to put her foot down on this issue. Or at least force a compromise.

By the time they were home, Erik still wasn't upstairs. Christine made a pot roast dinner while she continued to wait, slicing potatoes and carrots in the silence. As eight in the evening rolled around, she finally tucked Eva into bed, stuck the pot roast in the fridge, and then journeyed downstairs. Usually, Erik came back upstairs on his own time. But this seemed…different.

When she arrived in the basement, he was sitting on the black leather sofa with his head tilted back, staring at the ceiling. Cordie was at his feet; she seemed to prefer the cool darkness in her older age. Christine slowly sat beside him. "Erik?" she softly began. "I never meant to upset you. But can't you understand what I'm saying? Can't you see it's for her own good?"

He grunted.

"Think about it for a moment. Please. Think what complete isolation might do to her." She reached out and gripped onto his hand, silently pleading with him.

"I suppose we do not want her to be in this house forever," he replied after nearly a minute. "Old and alone."

"Right," gratefully replied Christine. "She should have people in her life. I mean, even we wouldn't have met if we'd never gotten out of our parents' houses, right?"

"I suppose not."

She leaned her cheek against his arm, thankful to be making progress. "We'll take it one step at a time. She just needs a little interaction now and then. Playtime with other kids."

"I suppose." A pause. She felt him run his hand through her hair. "Am I ruining her?" he asked, a tremor in his voice. "I told you I could never be a parental figure. But you insisted that I--"

"Of course you're not ruining her! She's so smart because of you. She loves you to death. I think she uses you as a role model more than she does me."

"Good God," he murmured. "She really is doomed then."

"Oh, Erik. I only mean she likes learning and…wants to wear hats because of you. You're not ruining her."

"Did I ruin you?" He asked the question so that she could barely hear him.

"No!" she exclaimed, pressing her forehead against his arm. "Where did you get that? I'm not letting you sit in the dark by yourself anymore."

"At the beginning, when we were in London, I vowed to myself to give you everything normal. I told you I would only need time. Remember? Time, I said. But lots of time has passed. And…I failed. And I do not think I ever can, Christine. I cannot give you completely normal."

"I have a wonderful husband, a daughter, and house," she replied. "What else is normal?"

"I could never go out. Not in the light. You could never have people over. I just…I always despised others. By the time I met you, there was too much…. I could not be the husband on your arm in the daytime."

"Have you been happy?" A tiny part of her feared the answer.

"The years since I have met you…they have been the only ones in which I was thankful for my own birth. Yes, I am. Of course I am. But I only needed you. And you needed--"

"I'm happy, too," she gently interrupted. "I can't imagine all this time without you. What is normal anyway? I've been happy, Erik. Isn't that what matters?"

"I…suppose so. As long as you are happy with me." His eyes were slightly shiny. He tucked an arm around her, and she embraced him tightly."You are here forever."

"I am. I love you." She paused, her hands gently running up and down his back. "I guess what I'm saying, though, is that…Eva might want to leave someday. Not forever. But she might want to go off on her own and see the world. And, as long as she's safe and old enough, we'll have to let her. She'll have to make her own choices just like we have."

"What will you tell her of me?" he asked. "If she ever asks about it all?"

"We'll start slowly. She can know that people treated you badly. And that's why you don't want others around. I think she'll understand that."

"And our beginning?"

"We'll see," replied Christine. "We'll see what she wants to know. Gavin did a beautiful job of cleaning up everything so there's not much out there that makes it obvious what happened with us and Falcon. It's not like someone else is going to know and tell her everything. And it was so long ago. It's been years since someone recognized me in public."

"I do not wish her to think me a monster. As with you…I did not want that."

"She won't. She's already pretty protective of you." Christine kissed his cheek. "You're hers, too, you know."

They held each other in the dark, and Erik seemed to relax. She still loved the sound of his breath and heartbeat…the cool softness of his white shirt beneath her cheek.

He wanted certainty about their lives just as she did. But, really, that was impossible—not only for them but for any family. No one knew if they would wake up one morning to lose their job or to experience the unfaithfulness of a significant other. Perhaps the uncertainties of other couples were different, but no one had utter certainty in life.

And maybe the world would be boring that way, anyway. Maybe one of the reasons her young heart had fallen in love with Erik was because he did add a dose of unpredictability to life. Anyhow, they'd taken all precautions, and they had a quick escape if it ever came to that. For now, though, they could enjoy their peace.

Years ago, during their darkest times in London, she'd wondered if they'd even be granted a month of married life together. Already, she'd been given over a decade, and it seemed from all indications that there were many more years to come.

And that was so much more precious than what other people might consider normal.

She kissed him soundly on the lips and then asked, "Are you ready to come upstairs now?"

"What if I wish to keep you down here?" he whispered with a sinister playfulness. "Forever."

"And then what's poor Eva going to do?" she asked in feigned horror.

"Likely feed herself cookies and drive a tank. She will survive."

"Well, all right then." Christine relaxed into his arms, letting the minutes tick by them.

Yes, this was so much more precious.