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 this time not only to Luthien Saralonde, but also to Green6Eyed7Lady for going over my chapter.

THE INVITATION

The music stopped abruptly as soon as Erik heard the knock on the door. Embarrassed at probably having been overheard, he turned to face whoever interrupted him. Seeing his wife, he hoped she had not heard too much of his song. Upon second glance, he noticed that she seemed troubled, nervously clutching a piece of paper in her right hand.

Avoiding his eyes, Joséphine handed him the invitation without uttering a word, then leaned on the piano, waiting anxiously for his reaction.

Slowly, Erik opened the card, his eyes flying over the text.

To Marquise Clara d'Escayrac, and Mademoiselle Joséphine d'Escayrac :

Vicomte and Vicomtesse
Raoul and Christine de Chagny
desire the pleasure of your company
at a ball this Saturday at the Chagny Estate
to celebrate their newly formed bond.

Please bring this invitation with you.

His thoughts started racing.

'She's back sooner than expected. I'll see her again, and then I will decide what, or rather, whom I want.'

A smile spread across his lips, thinking of seeing his pupil once again after all this time. He did not notice how Joséphine's face fell as the smile appeared on his own.

Tears started streaming down her face, and Joséphine had the feeling to have lost him as soon as he had read the invitation. She regretted having given it to him so soon.

When Erik finally looked up, the smile was instantly whipped from his face and replaced by concern, as soon as he saw the tears on his wife's face. He stood, closed the distance and took her in his arms. She tried to pull back, but he did not give in. Tilting up her chin with his fingers, he forced her to look at him.

"You don't want to go?" It was less a question than an observation.

"I know that you want to, and that is what matters," Joséphine answered. "After all, it's your chance to meet her again and to convince her that you are…" her voice broke, but she continued. "…the right man for her."

Her heart broke at the thought of loosing him in only five days, but she fought back the new tears that threatened to spill, not wanting to show him how much she hated this predicament.

Unconsciously, his hands had begun stroking her back, comforting her. Erik looked at her, and he could clearly see the desperation she felt in her eyes. Besides her slip, she had not told him that she loved him, but Erik felt that she did. And still, she was willing to let him go, let him go after another woman should he so choose.

It was the complete opposite to what he had done in the disastrous triangle between him, Christine, and Raoul.

He told her once that he did not deem himself worthy of love, and yet, he had gained her love over the time they had spent as husband and wife. When he was with Christine, he had never felt like when he was with Joséphine, and a small voice in his head told him that he had already fallen in love with his wife.

'Problem is I am no longer sure if she would be the right one for me.'

The confession lay on the tip of his tongue, but he could not bring himself to say it. He simply needed to see Christine one more time before he admitted his feelings.

"I want to go," Erik finally said, "but I need you by my side. Otherwise I…"

"You are not going to threaten her again, won't you Erik?" she asked him, her tone daring him not to give the wrong answer to this.

"Of course not," he said immediately, reassuring her. That particular thought had indeed never crossed his mind. "But the invitation is addressed to you…"

"…and Clara," Joséphine added, making a face, which made Erik smile.

"To the ladies of this house. I could not possibly show up alone, or, heaven forbid, together with your stepmother." It was now Joséphine's turn to smile at the look on Erik's face.

"Besides, even with the mask and wig I wear now, I cannot be sure that Chagny won't call the police once he knows who I am."

"Then I'll distract him, lead him away, so you can talk to Christine," Joséphine stated, crushing the pain she felt at the thought of actively helping him leaving her.

"And if, in spite of it all, I am to be exposed?" he whispered.

Joséphine looked at him for a moment, taking in his face. She did not know how he had looked with the white mask he wore as the Phantom, but she was pretty sure that most people would not make the connection. His new mask melted almost perfectly with his features, and the colour was the same as that of his skin.

"Well, we tell them that they are wrong, and that they should refrain from such hollow accusations."

"Fact is, they aren't hollow," Erik chided in.

Joséphine broke away from him, giving him a stern look.

"You are not the Phantom," she told him, "well, not any more," she added in a gentler tone.

"You are a well-known architect, married to the daughter of a Marquis. Remember that even the Comtesse de Montferrand said that you had nothing but the mask in common with the Phantom?"

"I do."

"Even if someone should investigate, we have a priest and the owners of a tavern to confirm that you spent the night with me. I don't think each one of them will remember the exact time we showed up."

"You don't think someone might find it suspicious that we got married at the same night of the catastrophe at the opera?

"Clara won't let anyone know that I was imprisoned rather than sick in the last year, she's too afraid of the scandal it would cause. We got married as soon as I felt well enough, secretly, because my stepmother disapproved of it." Her lips turned into a conspiratorial smile. "How were we to know what happened elsewhere that night?"

More than once, Joséphine had surprised him with her cunning, and the ease with which necessary lies spilled from her lips did not cease to amaze him. He wanted to believe her, believe that they had an out for every possible turnout of events, but the unease at the thought of Raoul discovering who he was did not leave. Still, he gave her a reassuring nod.

"Let us pray it will not come to this. Maybe everything will turn out fine," Erik said, though not really convinced. Needing to feel her right now, he reached for her and held her in a close embrace. Joséphine obliged willingly, seeking to be as close to him as possible for as long as she could.

Finally, he let go of her, but held her at arm's length, looking her up and down.

"So, what enthralling robe are you going to wear this time?"

At dinner that evening, Clara had no other topic than the upcoming ball; the people she thought might be present and the couple hosting it. Erik and Joséphine sat through most of it silently, since Clara was very comfortable leading the conversation all on her own, and only nodded here and there.

At dessert, Clara addressed Joséphine. "Have you already spoken to your seamstress about a gown?"

Joséphine nodded, swallowing the spoonful of mousse au chocolat she had just eaten. "Yes, I went there this afternoon. Actually, I expected to see you there as well."

The smug smile on Clara's face made it clear that she had something 'important' to declare. "I had the fortune to get an appointment with Richard Noirbon. He's going to personally make my dress until Saturday."

Joséphine's eyes widened, and she had to suppress a laugh. Noirbon, or Blackwell rather, was an English couturier that had come to France at the same time as Charles Frederick Worth.

But whereas Worth's creations had taken all of Europe's upper class by storm due to their beauty and congeniality, those of Noirbon only were talked about because people could not decide if he was just ahead of times with his fashion or if he simply had no fashion sense at all, besides thinking that what was expensive had to be good.

"Really? Did you?" Joséphine remarked, struggling to suppress a laugh. Erik cast her a sideways glance, not really understanding her sudden mirth.

"Yes, it will be wonderful," Clara said enthusiastically. "They showed me all these new fabrics, and I chose a wonderful bright rose at first, but the Maitre convinced me to go for magenta. It would be far more stylish and eye-catching, he said."

"I am sure it will be very," Joséphine paused, searching for the right word, "unique." She tried hard not to grin.

Clara continued the conversation around various fashion trends. Erik soon noticed that Joséphine had to stifle a yawn. Apparently, fashion was not her favourite topic.

And so, when Clara asked if they cared for drink after dessert, for once not seeming to mind her family's company, he was ready to decline and put his wife to rest, but Joséphine accepted the proffered Crème de Cassis. Erik, not wanting to leave his wife alone with her distrustful stepmother, stayed and opted for brandy, like Clara.

When Clara, at Joséphine's question why she did not drink a Cassis as well, as she did usually, explained that she needed something to calm her down and stronger alcohol would be much better for that, he thought nothing of it.