I sadly don't own the Phantom or any other characters created by G. Leroux, S. Kay and A. L. Webber, but they always have a place in my heart.
Thanks go to my betas.

PLANS AND STIRRINGS

Five weeks had passed since that night and everyone in the house had adjusted to the new circumstances. Ever since their heated argument on her birthday, Erik and Joséphine had limited their conversations to polite small talk, carefully avoiding any delicate subjects that might disturb the uneasy peace between them (such as the whereabouts of her father and everything about Christine).

By now, Erik had replaced the bandage for the flesh-coloured mask that matched nearly perfectly with his features, and was almost invisible from afar. When he had presented the mask to Joséphine before going down to breakfast, she was amazed by his talent.

He had also taken to wearing a wig again in a lighter colour similar to his natural hair, rather than the one worn during his time spent at the opera. But even with both mask and wig on, he still looked different to others; he was still exceptionally pale, although his skin had lost some of its greyish tinge.

Clara was clearly surprised the first time she saw him without the bandage, not instantly registering the mask, which spoke for the excellent craftsmanship Erik had accomplished.

Slowly, Joséphine was able to persuade Erik not to hide all the time in his quarters while at home. Clara had once asked him if he had reconsidered his decision to continue working as an architect, for she rarely saw him leave the house. He answered that he had taken to letting the blueprints be delivered to his clients, and allowing other architects to oversee the construction of the buildings he designed.

That evening, Clara had gone out with some friends, and Erik and Joséphine sat together in the living room. A fire warmed the room, though some of the gas lamps were lit for better light. Joséphine had installed herself next to the fireplace, reading the newspaper, while Erik had chosen the fauteuil across the room, engrossed in a book he had brought over from the library, now and then taking a sip of brandy from the glass on the table situated in front of him.

When Joséphine had finished reading, she put the journal down on her knees and addressed her husband.

"It has been over a week now that the papers have not printed an article about the opera ghost."

"I know. It seems that they are losing interest," he replied, not looking up from his book.

"Well, a member of the town council killing his daughter and her husband because she had run away with a painter is definitely more intriguing than a ghost that some people aren't even sure exists," she said casually. Erik gave a loud snort at that.

"I think it also has something to do with the fact that the one who most forcefully supported the search is not in town at the moment," she added.

At this, Erik looked at her, knowing too well of whom she was speaking.

"But sooner or later, they will be back," he said in a stern manner.

"I know," she said, "so I thought that it may be better to get you out into society while they are away. People will get to know you, and the Vicomte and his wife aren't here to cause trouble."

Erik cringed as Joséphine called Christine the wife of that…boy…, but then continued looking at her, waiting for her to elaborate.

In the past few days, Joséphine had thought a lot about how she was to introduce her husband into society, and also how to explain the way they met. Through Mathilde and two other servants, she had let spread the news that she had recovered from her illness, and she had also written letters to some of her friends and acquaintances in town informing them of her better health, begging them to visit soon.

"I heard that they are not to be expected back before the start of next month, so that will give us ample time." She paused, frowning slightly. "The only problem that I have is what to answer should somebody ask how we got introduced. Since everybody assumed I was sick and staying at home, where and how could I have met you?"

Erik pondered on this for a moment. "You never had a doctor in the house, right?"

"No because I have never been ill. The doctors for upper society are well known, and the ruse would soon have been discovered, so Clara told everyone that she had consulted a specialist from abroad," Joséphine informed him.

Suddenly, a small smile crept at his mouth, replacing his normally stern and serious looks. "Did she? Well, then I might know someone who could play this role, should someone ask to meet him," he told her, leaning back in the fauteuil, waiting for her curiosity to take over.

"You…you do?" she asked intrigued, leaning forward, not noticing the paper that slipped down the floor. Erik had to smirk at that.

"Yes, his name is Nadir Khan, I met him while I was in Persia. I know for a fact that he will be in town next week, we could ask him," he explained.

"Is he a doctor for real?"

"He is accomplished in various sectors. I am sure he knows enough about the human body to pass through as a doctor."

He saw her putting everything together in her mind. Quite contrary to him, she was sometimes very easy to read. Right now, her eyes looked upward, turning left to right, spinning the story in her mind. Her hands were in her lap, her fingers bouncing slightly against the fabric of her dress.

Suddenly, her eyes darted towards him. "But, how do you come into this?" she asked, a bit at a loss. Erik found it amusing to keep her waiting, so he pretended to think about that. When he heard her left foot tapping impatiently on the floor, he answered.

"I am his…best friend, and one day appeared at your doorstep to speak with him on urgent matters. And since you barley had visitors to the house..."

"My curiosity won and I came down to see the unexpected guest. That is brilliant, Erik!" she exclaimed.

"So, we met and…" he gestured, not wanting to say out loud that they had fallen in love at first sight, because it was a lie, but he knew that in the short time since he had met her, he had developed at least some feelings for his wife.

She had been confronted with some of his darker moods and aggressive behaviour, yet she had not fled but stood up to him. She rarely mentioned his deformity, and when she did, it was to tell him that he should stop thinking so lowly about himself, and that his disfigurement didn't disturb her.

It was true, she had seen him without his mask on more than one occasion, and with exception of the night they had met and she got his first look at him, she did not seem put out by his looks.

She also was well read, and witty; and every day he found her more beautiful. They were quite compatible, if their tempers did not clash as they had a few weeks ago.

After Christine and the Chagny boy had left for their honeymoon, he had stayed for the first time at home that night since his marriage, even coming down to the library where Joséphine had chosen to spend her evening, to find a book.

When he entered the room, Joséphine looked up at him, clearly surprised, but definitely pleased. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for a book; what else would I do in a library?" he replied.

"I mean what are you doing at home?" she insisted.

"There is no reason for me to go out tonight," he said with his back to her, examining the bookshelves. "Or tomorrow for that matter," he added quietly.

For a second, she looked at him with a confused expression, then realisation dawned on her. "It's because she's gone, right?" she asked him.

He turned to face her, his flat expression not giving away how he felt.

"I know that you entered this marriage to keep seeing her, but did you really gain anything by strolling around the Chagny grounds at night, trying to catch a glimpse of her?"

She shook her head. "There must be other ways to get what you desire. And I would not want you to get caught," she added.

Erik scowled at her. "What does it matter to you?"

"I know this is a marriage of convenience, but still, I am your wife."

"In nothing more than on paper, so do not mingle in my affairs," he chided her, grabbing a random book. He left the library without giving her another glance.

"Yes, this will work," Joséphine said, a satisfied look on her face. "I already started sending letters to some friends and acquaintances here in town, asking them to come visit me," she continued. "We should receive invitations to a ball or something like that soon after the first visitors can ascertain themselves of my full recovery."

"Very well," Erik said, impressed that she had given his situation that much thought.

When he started his reading again, he saw Joséphine shiver, even though she sat next to the fireplace. He placed his book down, rose, and draped the plaid that had lain next to him on the fauteuil over her.

She looked at him with surprised eyes at this gentle gesture. "Thank you," she said, pleased at his courteousness. Intending to go back to his seat, her hand on his arm stopped him in his tracks. Curious, he looked down at her.

"You know, despite some differences, I am glad that you agreed to marry me. I don't think I could have found a better man that night," she confessed, blushing as soon as the words had left her mouth.

Erik stood there, his mouth agape, touched by what he had heard. Then he kneeled down in front of her, steadying himself on the armrest of her chair. She stared at him with wondering eyes, making him slightly uncomfortable.

"I don't know how you can stand to be around me that often," he said, silencing her with his finger held up in the air, "but I admit that I find your company very welcome indeed."

Suddenly, before he knew what was happening, he felt her soft lips on his own. It was just a small kiss, and she ended it only shortly after having initiated it, but still, it was a kiss. It was not a kiss out of pity like Christine had given him in his lair to save his rival.

Realising his eyes were closed, he opened them to see that Joséphine had blushed a deep shade of red. Her left hand had wandered to her mouth, touching her lips, as if savouring the kiss. But, that couldn't be, right?

"Why did you do that?" he asked her, his voice a bit hoarse and barley above a whisper. He could see that she did not want to give the answer, clearly discontent with his reaction, but his position in front of her prevented her from getting away.

"Why?" he asked her once more.

"Because…because I wanted to," she blurted out. Tears sprang to her eyes. "I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't have…I just wanted…" She stopped as he brought his lips down on hers.

Timidly, their mouths explored each other, like a young couple on a dance floor sharing a dance for the first time, inexperienced, but willing to try.

Erik was overcome by thousands of different emotions. He had never felt anything that wonderful, not even Christine's kiss had been like that. Christine… What would she think of him if she knew that he betrayed her with another woman? He couldn't do this to her.

Erik jerked away as if burned, trying to ignore the hurt look on Joséphine's face at his sudden change. "I can't…" he choked out, exiting the room hastily, and leaving a deeply troubled wife behind.