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. Luthien, thanks for being so quick this time, you're so cool!

THE NEXT MORNING

Exhausted as she was, Joséphine dozed off after a few minutes, while Erik remained awake. He was used to not having much sleep and old habits were hard to change. He laid there for quite a while, staring at the darkened ceiling, now and then glancing over to the sleeping woman beside him.

He thought about everything that had happened in the past months, and the drastic changes his life had gone through. Before he had met Joséphine, he had sincerely thought about taking his life, and only the hope of seeing his beloved Christine again kept him from committing suicide. But now it was no longer Christine that was constantly on the front of his mind.

Being with Joséphine had changed him more than he had realised. When he left the opera house, his heart and soul were torn apart by the unrequited love he felt for Christine. Life was a living hell, and his hatred and self-loathing seemed to be all consuming. Her acceptance and interest in him from the moment their paths had crossed slowly made him make peace with himself, and the world.

She was the first woman to not let herself be hindered by the great barrier that was his disfigurement. All the others had turned from him upon seeing what lay beneath the mask: his mother, Luciana, even Christine at first. He felt at home here with her, his wanderings and quests for love and acceptance now at end.

His thoughts were interrupted by Joséphine, who suddenly turned and nestled up against him. Unconsciously, she let her fingers crawl over his torso. He looked down at the woman at his side. She had nearly confessed her love to him, he was sure about that. Feeling her shivering, he brought the covers up to keep her warm. He was rewarded with a content smile on her face.

Calmed by her hand stroking him, he finally drifted off to a peaceful slumber.

The next morning a knock at the door woke the both of them, Erik faster than Joséphine, who simply buried her head deeper in the crook of his neck, trying to stay asleep.

Before Erik could react, the door was open and Fanny bounced in, walking straight to the window to draw the curtains open.

"Morning, Madame, I hope you had a pleasant sleep," she announced, then nearly toppled over when she turned around to face the bed. Her hand flew to her mouth.

"I…oh my God, I am so sorry, I didn't…" she said, clearly startled.

Erik glared at her. "That's why you wait for an answer before entering, stupid girl," he addressed her coldly.

Next to him, Joséphine slightly raised her head, her eyes still heavy with sleep. She squinted them against the light coming in from the window, then noticed Fanny standing next to it. Suddenly wide-awake, she realised that if Fanny turned to the chair behind her, she would probably find Erik's pants and shirt missing from the rest of his clothes. Fortunately, Erik and she were totally covered by the blanket.

Thinking quickly, she feigned not having noticed Fanny yet, and drew even closer to Erik. "Is it morning already?" she asked, making sure to speak loud enough for Fanny to hear her.

Erik slightly turned his head, not sure what she was up to. "You should really not keep me awake all night, my love," she continued.

Having caught up, Erik moved his hand under the blanket, stroking her body. "Hush, go back to sleep, you need your rest." He turned back to Fanny, who was nearly across the room now, ready to dart for the open door.

"Don't come into our room uncalled like that again, or you might stumble on something even more embarrassing for you," he said to the disturbed maid, whose face had turned the shade of a tomato. She simply nodded, then dashed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

The couple waited a few seconds, making sure that Fanny was down the corridor before they finally relaxed. It was Erik who spoke first.

"Keeping you up all night? I wasn't aware of that. What did you dream?" he asked her, his eyes glinting. Joséphine blushed instantly, exactly the reaction he was hoping for. It hit him then that he had never stopped caressing her.

Seeing her lying next to him, an urge suddenly overwhelmed him and he caught her lips with his, kissing her hungrily. Startled, Joséphine yelped, but soon gave in and kissed him back nearly as forcefully. Their bodies became entangled, and a jolt shook them as Erik's hands suddenly touched bare skin, his wife's nightdress having moved up. He kept his hand still, but as Joséphine moaned against his mouth, he continued.

Her skin was soft and smooth, and so much warmer than his. It aroused him to no end, and apparently, affected Joséphine in the same way, for she tore at his shirt, trying to gain better access to him. When she accidentally touched him through his pants, he knew he would not last for long. He either had to stop or go all the way now.

It took him more strength than he thought to move away from her. Joséphine looked at him puzzled.

"Why did you stop?" Her lips were red from their heated kisses, her eyes glazed over, and she was panting.

"It is not the right moment," he offered as meagre explanation, getting up. When she looked at him disappointed, a small pout on her face, he wondered if he had made the right decision.

That according to him it was not time yet for them to become that 'acquainted' was only part of why he refused to continue. He needed to be sure about his feelings for Joséphine, and that meant for him to see Christine again. And as she and the Chagny boy would only be back from their honeymoon in a few weeks, he had decided to wait.

God only knew how hard that would eventually be.

After having put on his shoes and jacket, Erik returned to the bed, sitting down again, and took Joséphine's hand. He searched her face for any indication of her mood. He hoped she was not too angry with him for having stopped.

"Please don't be disappointed, Joséphine," he began awkwardly, "but…"

"…I am not her," she said, removing her hand from his grasp and turning to the side. "Just leave, Erik, please."

She had seen right through him, and now she sent him away because he had not been able to commit himself fully to her. He felt a stab of regret, but quelled it, knowing that there was nothing he could do at the moment.

Standing up again, he grabbed the rest of his clothes and went to the connecting door. "I promise you that we will finish what we started. I simply beg you to give me time," he told her, begging for her to understand. He received no reply, so he went to his rooms, closing the door softly behind him.

Clara was sitting in her bed, having breakfast, when she heard a knock at the door.

"Come in," she said, putting her croissant down.

Fanny opened the door and closed it behind her, curtsying before her mistress. Clara eyed her arrogantly. "You have something to report?" she asked the maid.

"Yes, Madame la Marquise. I went to wake up the young Madame right now, and, upon entering, I found her and the Monsieur in quite a compromising situation," the girl said, shifting from one foot to another, her hands clasped behind her back.

Clara sat up straighter, curious. "How compromising?"

"Well, they were in the bed of the Madame, naked, and kissing," Fanny explained, clearly uncomfortable with having to retell what she had witnessed.

She had been so shocked to find them together, so she had tried to avert her eyes as best as she could. She was not as innocent as her age might let someone to believe, and she knew quite well what men and women did together. Her vivid imagination made up for what she had not seen in Joséphine's rooms.

Clara tried not to show her disappointment at this news. Even though Joséphine had assured her that she and Erik had consummated their marriage, she had not believed her until now. She could not imagine that anyone would be willing to be intimate with this dark, disfigured man.

Ever since her husband had withdrawn his affections because of her inability to conceive, she had despised Joséphine for the attentions she got from Stanislas. When she had presented Erik as her husband right before the end of the ultimatum, her disdain had turned to hatred, because now the fortune she had counted on had been taken from her as well.

To have proof that their marriage was more than a business arrangement as she had assumed, fuelled her anger and hatred even more.

"Out! Now! Go do your duties!" Clara said, straining to suppress yelling at the maid. Fanny left immediately, just taking the time to curtsy once more before she was out of the room. She had just closed the door behind her, when a teacup shattered at the wall next to it.

Clara was seething with anger. First, she been deprived of her husband, and since they had no proof of his demise, she could not with clear conscience take a lover. She also still had feelings for her husband.

After a while, her sole comfort had been getting the money, and making the life of her stepdaughter miserable. Now she had also been deprived of the money and seeing Joséphine, apparently happily married despite the beginnings of their arrangement, was more than she could bear.

The plate followed the teacup, the sounds of shattering porcelain echoing through the room. Clara slumped back against the pillows, tears of anger and frustration running down her face. Finally, after a few minutes had passed, she had calmed down enough to consider the current situation.

Looking at the mess she had made, she made a decision. She had neither reason nor proof to legally fight the marriage and therefore had to think of others ways to get back at them. Erik had warned her of doing Joséphine any harm, but she was too far-gone to care.

Getting up, she went to her dressing table and sat down in front of the mirror. Looking in it pensively, she started applying her make-up to get ready for the day, while at the same time agonising over how to get rid of her stepdaughter.

Grabbing a small pot from the right side of her vanity, she halted in midstride. It contained a blend of vinegar, chalk and arsenic, which upper class women used to improve their complexion. It had a whitening effect to the skin, serving to distinguish themselves further from the other classes.

Arsenic was also highly poisonous, and regularly Clara had heard that women had died after taking to many arsenic complexion pills. She only used the powder from time to time to enhance her pale features. Even though she was not of noble blood and had helped out her parents in the bakery when she was younger, life had graced her with a pale complexion worthy of any woman from aristocracy. But today, after her fit of rage just minutes earlier, her cheeks were botchy and red.

The powder contained not enough arsenic to do any real harm, and she was sure that, given their strained relationship at the moment, her stepdaughter would refuse any pills she offered her.

But there had to be way, or a different poison to get rid of Joséphine and her monster of a husband.

Suddenly, inspiration struck, and Clara's eyes took on a strange gleam. She knew where to get what she wanted. And, yes, she would poison her stepdaughter, and take back what she felt was rightfully hers.