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 to Green6Eyed7Lady for going over my chapter!

PREPARATIONS FOR THE BALL

The next days up until Saturday were filled out almost solely by the preparations for the big ball at the Chagnys.

Clara was out of the house most of the day, almost as often to consult her dressmaker as to have tea with friends, gossiping.

Joséphine too was stressed to get her dress ready in time; she spent nearly every afternoon at her seamstress to finish her robe.

Erik, after the dinner with Clara on Monday evening, had mysteriously disappeared and only resurfaced the next evening for dinner. Since the couple shared their meal with Clara, who was in an exceptional good mood ever since she had received the invitation, Joséphine did not get a chance to ask him about his whereabouts.

She found the time when they went upstairs together after dessert, while Clara returned to her sewing room. Joséphine had refused a night cup in the winter garden because she was feeling a bit unwell.

"Where have you disappeared to last night?" Joséphine finally asked him when they had arrived at the upper level. "I waited up for you, but you didn't return."

"You shouldn't have," Erik replied.

"I was worried, where were you?" Joséphine pried further.

"It is of no importance."

Joséphine halted, suddenly suspicious, an unpleasant thought coming to her mind. She reached for his arm.

"It is for me. Please tell me," she all but whispered.

Erik had turned to face her, but did not look her in the eyes.

"At the Chagny Estate," he finally admitted.

For a moment, Erik had pondered on lying to his wife, saying that he had gone to see Nadir, but he was almost certain she would have discovered a lie, since she was watching him so closely.

Wordlessly, Joséphine left him in the corridor, closing her door forcefully behind her.

"You insisted on knowing," Erik said to himself defiantly, striding towards his chambers. But instead of opening his door, he continued to his wife's rooms.

Quietly, he opened the door, glad that she had not locked it. Joséphine was sitting on her bed, a pillow in her arms that she clenched so tightly her knuckles were white.

Slowly he approached her, but stopped when she raised her head to look at him.

"So this is it then? Hiding in the shadows again to spy on her? That's the ways of the Phantom, it should no longer be yours," she said reproachfully.

"Joséphine…"

She raised her hand to stop him. "Don't you remember what I once told you? That it was maybe your actions that made her recoil from you and not your appearance?"

Agitated, she ran her hands through her hair. "Stalking her is definitely not what you should do to win her, Erik."

Erik opened his mouth to speak, wanting to tell her that he had just had to get away last night, to sort out his feelings. He had not immediately gone to the Chagny estate, had not even thought about going there when he had left the house.

He had simply wanted to sort out his inner turmoil. Erik had to admit that he was afraid of seeing Christine again. He still could not be sure that she or the Vicomte would not instantly alert the police and have him arrested.

And he was also aware of the hurt he would cause Joséphine should he leave her for Christine. He knew that that had been their initial arrangement, but since that night so many things had changed.

He had wandered the streets of Paris for hours, his flesh-coloured mask nearly invisible in the dim light of the streetlamps. When he had bumped into somebody, too occupied with his thoughts to pay attention on everything around him, he was startled to acknowledge that he was no longer seen as an outcast, for the young woman he had collided with did not immediately run from him screaming, but excused herself politely and then continued her ways. If it had not been for Joséphine, he would still live his life on the edges of society, never belonging anywhere but the shadows.

Since he had met Joséphine and had donned a more unobtrusive mask, he had been to dinners with high society, and been personally involved with his architectural projects more than ever before. He felt comfortable around Joséphine, which ultimately had led to him being more at ease around others as well.

In all these years that he had been in Paris, he had only seldom dared to walk around in broad daylight, but he had been out with Joséphine on various occasions. She had helped him change his life for the better; with the ultimate goal of showing Christine what man he could be, so that she would leave the Vicomte to be with her former tutor.

She was right, he should not have gone there last night, but after hours of strolling around aimlessly, he found himself in front of the gates of the Chagny Estate. But unlike a few weeks ago, he had not entered the premises, but had walked along the fence, his thoughts not only with the woman safe behind them, but also with the woman he had left at home.

"Home."

"I am sorry, what did you just say?" Erik heard Joséphine say and had the feeling as if he had just returned from a place far away.

"I…nothing. I am sorry, Joséphine for putting you through all this, believe me," he finally managed to say. Again he stepped forward to get closer.

"Well, I admit that it's only logical to seek the closeness of the woman you love, just not how you did it. Fortunately, all this will be over soon," Joséphine told him, but he knew she was only playing brave, he could see that she had tightened her grip on the pillow again.

"I am tired, I will go to bed. Good night, Erik," she added.

"Do you want me to stay?" he inquired, secretly hoping that she would.

"No, I rather not, I'm not feeling well," Joséphine explained.

Erik turned towards the connecting door. "Well, good night then, Joséphine."

"Good night."

Erik did not sleep for a long time, still thinking of what was to come. It was long past midnight, when he heard noises coming from the next room. Getting up, he walked to the connecting door, not caring to put his mask on, to listen. There it was again, a low groan. Silently, he opened the door and peeked inside.

Joséphine was tossing and turning in her bed, clearly having a nightmare. Quickly, he walked over to the bed, intent on waking her. But then she spoke up.

"Please don't. Don't go!"

Could it be…?

"Stay, please, I love you!"

She was having a nightmare about losing him. And, even though she was not conscious, she had just admitted she loved him. He had been sure that she did, but to hear it from her mouth, even asleep, shook him to his core.

He verified that the door to the corridor was locked, and lay down next to her in bed, stroking her back, trying to calm her. Unexpectedly, Joséphine turned around and buried her face in his chest. He could feel the tears on her face as she snuggled closer. Laying an arm around her, he quietly started singing a lullaby, soothing her with his voice.

After a few minutes, Joséphine had calmed back down, nestling down beside him, her head resting on his chest, her breathing in time with the beating of his heart.

It did not take long for Erik to fall asleep as well.

Erik had left early in the morning, so when Joséphine woke up, she was unaware of his late night visit.

Still feeling unwell, she was in no mood to get up soon. Her head hurt, and her limbs where feeling heavy. Thinking that it might be a combination of a cold and the emotional distress she was in as the ball drew closer, she discarded the symptoms and finally got out of bed. There was still so much to do before Saturday.

Both women spent hours in the afternoon at their seamstresses, while Erik was asked by Victor Parmentier to solve a problem at the site of the Hotel de Carnavalet. Parmentier also informed him that the committee Haussmann had set in charge of the restructuring of the city was very interested in other designs he, respectively Erik, had to offer. Erik promised him to present him some ideas the next week.

Erik arrived late for dinner, so when he entered the dining room, the ladies had just been served the main dish. Bending down to kiss his wife, he acknowledged Clara with a nod, and sat down.

"The Haussmann committee is interested in my work, they want me and my partner to present them some designs as soon as possible," Erik told his wife, proud of his work.

"That is amazing, Erik!" Joséphine exclaimed. "I'm so proud of you!" She reached over to squeeze his hand.

Erik cast a look at Clara, whose face was set in stone, but he didn't care today, he was in an exceptional good mood, and nothing could deter him from it.

Joséphine was genuinely enthusiastic about this, and so the conversation during the main course was mainly about Baron Haussmann's project. When the table was cleared, Erik noticed that Joséphine had left her dish nearly untouched.

Since normally she had a healthy appetite, he assumed she might not have liked today's meal. But when she merely touched the lemon cake, which he knew was one of her favourites; he assumed that she was still feeling unwell.

Clara had noticed as well and of course commented on it. "I always thought you liked lemon tarts, Joséphine? Is this one not to your liking?"

"It is fine," Joséphine answered, finally putting the fork aside, instead of parting the piece of cake into even smaller crumbles. "I simply have no appetite today, I must be under the weather, that's all." She didn't tell them that she was almost unable to keep her food down, having vomited for about an hour after today's lunch.

"I hope so, my dear. It would be a shame if you were unable to go to the ball."

"Believe me, it is nothing. Besides, a cold won't keep me away from the event of the season," Joséphine replied sternly.

"If you say so, I hope you are right," Clara meant, and Erik felt suddenly odd. For a moment, there had been a strange glint in her eyes, and Erik could not shake the feeling that Clara was up to something. Was she planning on compromising Joséphine at the ball? He vowed to watch her even more closely.

The next day, after going over some blueprints he was considering giving to Parmentier, Erik went to the Rue de Rivoli to see Nadir. He was not sure if his old friend could help him with his dilemma, but he needed someone to talk to, to confide in. So he had sent a letter letting him know that he would stop by in the early afternoon.

The Daroga, this time clad in comfortable oriental clothes, as he had spent the whole day at home, received Erik with fresh brewed green tea with pinions and pastries. They made themselves comfortable in the living room, and Erik started telling Nadir about Christine's return.

"And now they are giving a ball, and Joséphine, her stepmother and I are invited," Erik concluded.

"And you intent to go?" Nadir asked him.

"Yes, I need to."

"You need to? Why, Erik?" Nadir demanded suspiciously.

"I told you that in the beginning, the alliance between Joséphine and I was a marriage of convenience," he began. Nadir nodded.

"Over the time we spent together, things have changed. She makes me…I am no longer…" Erik searched for words, "I need to go to the ball to be sure that I no longer have feelings for Christine," he finally confessed.

"You seek closure, my friend, I understand," Nadir said. "But are you not afraid of being recognized and caught?"

"Of course I am." Erik gestured toward his mask. "I may be able to fool the people on the streets, and other members of the upper class, but I am sure Christine will recognise me. I know also that Joséphine is willing to lie for me, to tell everyone they are wrong should someone accost me. She can be very convincing," Erik answered with a smile.

"What I am more concerned of is my behaviour towards Christine. I simply do not know how to approach her. And what happens if I…turn into a madman again the moment I set my eyes on her?"

Nadir looked at him. "Do you really believe that will happen, Erik?"

"I don't know. For years, she was all that I could think about, but when I went to her home last night…"

"You did what?" Nadir exclaimed, shocked.

Erik had the decency to look ashamed. "Let me finish. I went to the Chagny Estate last night, but all I could think about was Joséphine. She loves me, you know?"

"Did she tell you?"

"Not consciously, but I know she does."

"And you are still willing to let her go through the pain of thinking she will loose you come Saturday?" the Persian asked him somewhat reproachfully.

Erik rose from the fauteuil, walking over to the window to look out on the street. "I think she's giving me the right to choose that I once denied Christine," he said after a while.

"If what you say is true, she must love you very much, putting your luck before her own. She really is an exceptional woman," Nadir said, having joined Erik at the window.

"Yes, she is."

Thursday, Joséphine was still not feeling better, if possible, she felt even worse. She even cancelled her meeting with the seamstress, thinking that the last fitting the next day would suffice.

Mathilde meanwhile had recovered enough to be able to leave her room again, if not enough to return to work, and so kept Joséphine company most of the day.

When Erik returned from work only shortly before dinner, one of the servants informed him that Clara would dine out with friends that evening, and that Joséphine had ordered her dinner to be brought to her room. At being asked if he was going to take his dinner downstairs or in his quarters, he chose to dine with Joséphine.

He waited in the dining room until the dinner was ready, then took it upon himself to bring it upstairs. Balancing the tablet with the dishes in one hand, he gently knocked on his wife's door with the other.

"Come in," he heard Joséphine say.

Opening the door, he found not only his wife, but also her servant Mathilde lying leisurely on the bed, playing cards. Mathilde nearly bolted from the bed, almost falling over, curtsying hastily when she recognised her Mistress' husband entering. Joséphine had to smile, but hid it behind the cards she held in her right hand.

"I am glad to see that you are feeling better, Mathilde," Erik addressed her, a small smile having appeared on his lips due to the maids rash movements.

"Thank you Master," Mathilde replied, curtsying again.

"Come finish the game, Mathilde, and I don't think Erik will mind much if you behave less like a servant and more than a friend," Joséphine told her friend, reaching out to get her to sit back down on the bed.

Mathilde turned to look at her friend, her face doubtful.

"If I had known you were here, I would have brought more food, or can you still eat nothing but the cook's broth?" Erik asked her gently.

Mathilde whirled around again. "That broth is awful!" she exclaimed, shivering by the thought of it.

"Then do you want me to get more food?"

Incredulously, Mathilde stared at him. "You would serve me? But…you are the Master of this house!"

Joséphine had fallen back on the bed, nearly doubling over with mirth. "Stop teasing her Erik! Besides, I am sure there will be enough for all of us, I am still not feeling very hungry."

Erik immediately turned his attention to her, looking her over concerned. "You still don't feel better?"

Joséphine shook her head. "Not really, but it will pass. I guess I'm just not used to be out that much again after a year in this house," she explained, leaving out that she also thought stress and nervousness because of the impending ball to be under the reasons for her illness.

"Are you sure you don't want to call a doctor?" Erik probed further.

"Yes, I assure you, it is nothing you should concern yourself with," his wife replied, though Mathilde had the feeling that her lady was unconvinced by what she had just said.

"Now, what delicacies have you brought us for dinner?"