A/N This isn't over yet...just to remind you, there's an epilogue to come.

Christine woke up grumpy.

She always felt this way when she stayed up too late and slept too long in the morning. Reluctant to open her eyes just yet, she put her hand out searching next to her for Erik, but she was alone.

She sniffed appreciatively, smelling fresh coffee. She sat on the edge of the bed rubbing the sleep from her eyes, then with a huge yawn, got up and dragged herself into the bathroom for a shower. No more late night confessions for a while, she thought tiredly, dressing in a brown plaid skirt and tugging a warm sweater over her head.

She followed her nose into the kitchen and tiptoed over to Erik standing at the stove in black trousers and a maroon dress shirt, his black leather shoes shined to a mirror gloss. He had slowly regained the weight he lost during his illness, and now he was no longer dangerously thin, but she suspected that he would never have much flesh covering his bones.

Coming up behind him, she wrapped her arms around his middle and laid her cheek against his back. He knew she was there when she first entered the kitchen. He always did.

"Mmm, how did you know I wanted French toast this morning?"

He deftly flipped the toast and turned around, leaning over to kiss the tip of her nose. "Because every three days you request it."

"That's because I love your French toast."

She spun around quickly when the coffee maker spoke in a high, wispy, cartoonish voice that sounded suspiciously like Mickey Mouse. "And he makes an exceedingly fine cup of coffee too!" it said.

He flipped the toast onto a plate, ignoring Christine's look of bemusement, and set it on the table. He held the chair out for her and she sat down, still eying him with suspicion, while he looked back at her innocently. She poured syrup on her toast and started eating.

"Mickey Mouse, Erik? You told me he was ridiculous. Remember?"

He maintained his air of innocence, but gave her a wink. "I may live five cellars below the theatre, but it's not a vacuum, Christine."

Will wonders never cease. My man just winked at me.

He set a cup of coffee in front of her and sat down.

"Why aren't you having breakfast with me?"

"I have already eaten, ma petite."

"What?"

"Toast."

She looked at him doubtfully. "Your idea of breakfast and mine are entirely different. I will fatten you up if it's the last thing I do, buster."

He rolled his eyes at that and said admiringly, "You truly are a delight to behold, my angel."

Christine blushed at his warm gaze, and popped the last piece of French toast into her mouth. He watched her, seeing the dribble of syrup on her lower lip, and helpless to resist, he leaned over and licked it off. He caught her lip between his teeth and nibbled it gently as she brought her hands up to his face kissing him soundly.

"Yum. You smell wonderful," she said against his mouth. "Like cinnamon and ...pine?" She drew back and regarded him suspiciously. "You've been snooping under the Christmas tree again, haven't you?"

He gave her a highly indignant look, yellow eyes flashing. "Erik does not snoop."

She put her arms around him and whispered in his ear," Christine knows that's not true, dear heart, but that's all right- she loves you anyway."

She took his earlobe into her mouth and sucked it gently, and Erik completely mollified, turned his head sharply and captured her lips with his own. He was the first to pull away.

Taking a deep breath he said regretfully, "We have much to do today and at this rate, we will not get any further than the bed."

She got up from her chair and plopped onto his lap, forcing a grunt from him. Looping her arms around his neck, she began by kissing his jaw, gradually working her way up to his mouth. "And what's wrong with that?" Before he could answer, she kissed him hard on the lips, her hand stroking his chest, then moving lower. His breathing quickened and he cupped the back of her head, completely forgetting his earlier plans.

He lifted her in his arms, and in long strides reached their room, where he put her down beside the bed and began to undress her, stopping every so often for a kiss or an increasingly impassioned caress. Christine returned the favor as her hands went to his tie, and soon their clothing lay strewn across the floor. Stretching out beside her on the bed, he proceeded to love her thoroughly, nearly mindless with joy as their bodies once more became a single entity.

"I love you..." he whispered, his desire burning white-hot as he shuddered against her. She held him close, still trembling from her own pleasure.

She kissed the side of his neck. "Aren't you glad now that we didn't go rushing off?"

"Very, very glad," he said as he settled beside her, spent, but terribly happy. "Christine? About last night. I just want to say again that..."

She hurriedly put a hand over his mouth. "Uh uh. No way. We're not going back there again. I love you. You love me. Time to move on. Agreed?" She kept her hand over his mouth, forcing him to simply nod in reply. She smiled at the relief in his eyes.

He raised himself on one elbow and smoothed hair away from her face. "Agreed."

"Good." She pulled him back down and he looked with avid eyes as the sheet slipped to reveal one of her breasts. "So what are we doing today, my darling man?"

He slipped his arms around her, always greedy for a touch or kiss. "I have someplace I want to take you, but first I must ask- will you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner and the Garnier tonight?"

"It sounds wonderful!" She laughed as she regarded the both of them sans clothes. "I guess that means we'll have to get dressed, huh?"

"It does, but only if you wish it. Myself, I would be delighted to spend the day in bed with you," and he rolled her beneath him and began kissing her.

His weight settled on top of her felt good. Too good, and with a laugh she pushed at him. "You are insatiable. Come on, buster! You said you were taking me somewhere."

One last kiss and he got up, his skin still warm from hers. "Then I suggest, woman, that we depart soon, n'est-ce pas?"

Within minutes, they were climbing the passage to the exit on the rue Scribe side of the lake, Erik holding her hand and pulling her along. When they stepped outside, it was to a cold, blue sky and a world of fresh, glistening snow blanketing the ground.

Bundled up, they trudged the block or so to where his car was parked. It was another sleek, black BMW similar to the one he had leased in Gettysburg a lifetime ago.

They traveled in companionable silence across Paris, Erik expertly weaving in and out of the dense traffic of the congested city. Before long they arrived in a charming residential area of narrow, cobbled streets and attractive older buildings, many built of stone. He helped her out of the car and led her to the front of a distinctive and handsome townhouse.

"I designed and built this home, Christine. There is another similar to it at the end of this street."

She looked at him, then at the house in front of her. It was a narrow three stories, obviously built to fit on the small lot, but executed with the idea of going upward in living space instead of outward. There were beautiful arching windows, allowing for an abundance of light, and it was sided with mellow gray stonework. It was lovely.

"It's wonderful! I should have realized what you are capable of. Your home under the Garnier is so beautiful."

"I enjoy design and construction. Creating beauty is a worthy endeavor, no?"

She reached up and grabbed the ends of his cashmere scarf and tugged his head down to her level. She tipped his hat back and brushed her mouth across his. "You know something?" She pecked him on the lips one more time and grinned up at him. "You are one very cool, dude. Was this the project you told me about?"

"Yes." He put his arms around her and pulled her up against him. "But that wasn't a proper kiss. Here, let me show you how it is done," and he proceeded to do just that, as his thin mouth slanted across hers, and she decided he knew exactly what he was talking about.

Now I know what they mean about a kiss curling your toes. Yep. All that practice made it perfect. She pulled back and swiped a finger at the lip gloss she left on his mouth. "I stand corrected." She glanced over her shoulder at the row of houses. "Do you think they'll call the gendarmes to come and arrest the couple canoodling in front of their homes?"

His voice was light and amused, "Canoodling?"

"Kiss, cuddle...um, make out. You know...suck face."

"That covers quite a bit of territory, but this is Paris, my darling. Parisians love love. Therefore we are perfectly safe, I assure you."

He led her back to the car and she looked one last time at the house he designed. "It's great, Erik. I'm so proud of you!"

He felt pleasure at her words. "I wish now to do more of it on a steadier basis."

She smiled and gave him a quick hug. "I'm glad." He was constantly surprising her.

They left le Marais and Erik headed for the Grand Boulevard and the many shops and boutiques to be found there. Despite Christine's protests, he gave her a credit card and insisted she buy herself a new dress for their evening.

He opted to wait in the car and conduct some business over the phone with Bernard. After nearly an hour, she found what she was looking for and quickly paid the exorbitant price. She hurried back to the car and got in, excited about the evening to come.

She dabbed perfume behind her ears and inside her wrists, surveyed herself in the mirror one last time, then left the room. It was Christmas Eve and the prospect of spending it with Erik had her more than a little excited. When she stepped into the living room, she stopped and stared.

He was leaning against the mantle, staring into the flames. When he heard her come into the room, he straightened and turned.

They surveyed each other, entranced by what they saw. He was dressed in a black tux, crisp white shirt and a black bow tie. She thought he looked magnificent, his tall, slender frame graceful and elegant in the formal suit.

"You are handsome tonight, my love," and meant it.

"I could wear the clothes of an emperor, Christine, but I would still be hideous."

"Not to me," she whispered, and that's all that mattered to either of them.

Erik could only marvel that this beauty standing in front of him was his. She was wearing a red crocheted dress, lovingly hugging all of her curves. Her blonde hair, which she was wearing longer now, was piled on top of her head, a few loose curls framing her face.

"Lovely..." his voice trailed off as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. "Maybe later we can come back here and canoodle in front of the fire."

Christine smoothed a hand across his shirt. "Oh, you can bet on that, babe," she whispered. I need my toes curled multiple times and you're just the man to do it.

Then he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, black velvet box. He removed the object inside and placed the empty box on the mantle. He stood in front of her and took her left hand in his, running his thumb over the back. His fingers shook just a little she noticed.

"Marry me," he said, his eyes a warm amber.

She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with tears and nodded," Yes, with all my heart."

He slipped the ring on her finger, and she thought she'd never seen anything so beautiful. A platinum band held a sparkling diamond, with a triple set of smaller stones nestled to each side of the center diamond.

It was exquisite. She walked into his arms and held him close, so very happy. "It's beautiful, Erik."

"Tonight you have made me the happiest man on earth," he said, and kissed her. She knew by his look of adoration, he probably was. "And now, I have a surprise for you." He took her hand and led her to the music room, settling her in a chair.

His Christine had even decorated in here. Sprigs of mistletoe were scattered around the room and they had spent time beneath them all. His favorite was over the piano bench. They had taken advantage of that particular sprig many times.

He sat down at the grand and turned to her with a smile. "Joyeux Noel, my angel- my life."

He placed his hands on the keys and began. She held her breath at the introduction. She told him once about the holidays with her father and the Valerius'; how every Christmas Eve they had sung, O Holy Night and how much she missed it.

And now he was playing it for her.

His skill was such that his hands flowed across the keyboard almost carelessly, so at ease was he, but the melody was precise and performed flawlessly. He leaned slightly forward, head tilted, eyes closed, breathing the music as he always did. A virtuoso performance. She didn't think anything could be more beautiful than his lovely rendition, until he began to sing.

My God, she thought. She closed her eyes and just listened. His incredible voice soared, aiming for the very heavens, causing an ache to spread throughout her chest. Could one die from pure emotion, she wondered? Her face wet, she was humbled once again by his God-given talent. He was exceptional; a true musical genius, and she was one of only a handful aware of it.

Her maestro.

She got to her feet and joined him at the piano. She stood behind him and placed her hands lightly on his thin shoulders, feeling the smooth movement of the muscles beneath his jacket as he played. As the song came to its wondrous close, his astounding tenor remained in the echoes that were still present in the room.

Finally...she was able to speak past the lump in her throat. "Thank you." she whispered, her voice breaking as her hands squeezed his shoulders. "Mere words, Erik..." She paused, still overcome by the beauty of his gift. "How...how can I express what that meant to me...how very, very glorious it was with just...words?"

He turned to her then and reached for her hand. "You just did," he said gently.

She smiled. "I think we just started a new Christmas tradition, don't you?"

"Only if you sing with me."

"I would be honored."

He kissed her knuckles and stood up. Tucking her arm in his, "Shall we, my dear?"

Their evening in Paris had begun.

If someone had asked him what part of the night he enjoyed the most, he would be hard put to choose.

They dined on beef cooked over an open flame at Le Petite Chatelet in the Latin Quarter, and to celebrate their engagement, Erik had a bottle of the house's best champagne delivered to the table. People had noticed the striking couple- the tall, gaunt man with the pretty blonde woman, but he was happy, and for once their stares didn't matter.

They danced to the sweet strains of a violin, content as always to be in each others arms. The Garnier that evening performed The Nutcracker and they watched from his usual box five. He observed Christine more than he did the performance. Her enchantment with the story was endearing. But perhaps the most wonderful part of the night was when he took her to the opera house roof to view Paris spread out before them. It was a sight that he was sure she would never forget.

The late December sky was a deep navy blue, the heavens sprinkled with cold, glittering stars, and the thousands of colorful lights of far-flung Paris all vying for her attention. Christine had leaned against him, his arms encircling her, his chin resting lightly on the top of her head.

"Look at the lights, Erik! It's gorgeous!" she said excitedly.

He tightened his grip on her. "Yes, truly gorgeous," he whispered, looking down at her.

He remembered coming here months ago when he was sick and mourning the loss of Christine. And now he was holding that very woman in his arms, ready to embark on a new life.

They had returned home a little after midnight and enjoyed a nightcap while admiring their Christmas tree. And canoodled to their hearts content. Then they moved into the bedroom and made love- slow and sweet. His eyes slid shut realizing that music could never reach this pinnacle of pleasure for him.

Only Christine could.

Afterward, lying in her arms, he tried to name what it was he was feeling at that moment, for the emotion wasn't at all familiar to him. He had never felt it before, and yet his quick mind fumbled with the need to identify it.

Then it came to him.

It was nirvana.

Peace...at last.