Erik sat on the edge of the bed beside his still slumbering new wife. He brushed her hair out of her face. "Katja, it's time to get up," he whispered, but she didn't wake. With a smile, Erik gently stroked her cheek. She whined softly in protest and rolled over onto her stomach. He leaned down and kissed her bare shoulder.

She shifted so that more of her soft skin was exposed to him and gave a satisfied sigh as Erik nuzzled her neck. "Erik," she murmured sleepily. He couldn't help but smirk at the thought of being in her dreams.

"Come on Katja," he cooed. "It's morning. I'm going to have to go soon."

Katja rolled back over to her back with a groan. Her eyes finally opened, revealing their beautiful blue color. "Do you really have to go to work today?" she asked with a yawn.

"I'm afraid so," Erik replied apologetically.

"Why?" she moaned. Katja sat up, clutching the blankets to her chest to cover her still bare body. "You should get a couple days off. You know, like a honeymoon."

He kissed her tenderly. "If I could stay with you, I would do it in a heartbeat, but I can't. There isn't anyone to replace me. And I've only been here a few weeks. It would be different if I had playing for a few years or a few months even but that's not the case. I'm sorry."

"I understand," she said with a small, though slightly sad, smile. "But you're going to have to make this up somehow. And I have a couple ideas…"

Erik raised his brow, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Like breakfast?"

"Breakfast would be nice," she replied, stretching lazily.

"Get dressed," he instructed. "And I'll prepare breakfast." He pressed a quick kiss on her lips before heading for the kitchen.

As he began to prepare breakfast, Erik's mind began to wander. It just didn't feel real. Somehow he was married to a beautiful woman who was somehow able to return his love. Erik felt like as long as he had Katja, he could do anything.

"Are you making crepes?" Erik turned and saw Katja gawking at him.

"Yes I am," he replied. Suddenly he was afraid Katja would want something different. She was quite a picky eater now that she had to worry about morning sickness. He should have asked what she wanted before he started cooking. "Would you rather I make something else?"

"No absolutely not. They smell delicious. It's just that this is kind of funny," she said with a smile.

"How so?" Erik asked.

"You're a wanted man in Paris, supposedly terrifying and dangerous, but here you are making breakfast like it's nothing. It's very domestic," she explained with a giggle.

"But I'm still frightening when I need to be."

"I don't think you're frightening at all," she protested. "I think you're very sweet when you're given the chance."

"No one besides you has ever given me a chance," Erik said softly, sadness filling his eyes. "They just assume I'm a monster because of my face."

"That's their loss then," Katja countered. "Because you are one of the kindest, sweetest, most compassionate men I have ever met. And on top of all that, you're one of the most handsome men I've ever met as well."

"Don't," he whispered, hurt in his eyes. He turned away from her. "Don't lie to me, even if you're trying to make me feel better."

"I'm not lying to you," she protested. "Erik, just because no one else sees it, doesn't mean that it's not true. It just means that everyone else is wrong."

He opened his mouth to argue further, but an acrid smell filled the air. Erik swore as he realized that the crepe in the pan was burning. As he pulled the pan from the stove, Katja ran from the room. He followed her to the bathroom and found her dealing with a bout of morning sickness. "I'm so, so sorry," he apologized, kneeling next to her and pulling her hair away from her face. "I didn't mean to make you sick."

"It's not your fault, it was an accident. You didn't mean it," Katja replied. "I just don't think our daughter likes the smell of burning food."

"Daughter?" Erik repeated. "How do you know it's a girl?"

"I can't explain how I know, I just do."

"Katja, you can't be sure the baby will be a girl. It might be a boy."

"Having a boy wouldn't be a bad thing," she continued. "I'm going to love our child no matter what gender, but I'm certain our baby is a girl. Call it mother's intuition."

Erik didn't want to continue the fight. He knew if he pressed too far, she would wind up crying. Katja was so sensitive now with the baby. Brigitte had said it was completely normal for a pregnant woman to become extremely emotional, but normal or not, he wanted to avoid making her cry.

He checked his pocket watch. "I've got to get going or I'll be late to work. Will you be okay on your own?"

"What would you do if I said no?" Katja asked. "You can't very well take me with you."

"No," he replied slowly. "But I could take you to the café if you were uncomfortable with staying here all by yourself."

She sighed. "Erik, I'm twenty years old. I think I can handle a few hours on my own."

"The last time I left you alone, you nearly killed yourself," Erik argued. "Katja, I don't want to go through that again."

Katja put her hand on this porcelain covered cheek. "Erik, I swear to you that you never have to worry about me hurting myself again. The only reason I did it was that I was scared and didn't know what else to do. But now I know I can trust you and that you would never intentionally do anything to cause me pain. Besides, if you have any morphine here, I will kill you."

Erik placed a gentle kiss on her lips. "Absolutely not. I have to go or I'll be late. Are you sure…?"

"Go!" she ordered, playfully pushing him towards the door. "You can't be late. Don't worry, I'll be fine. I love you."

He kissed her once more. "I love you too. Don't forget to eat."

"Out!"