Work in the morning then a fever in the afternoon meant that I was burrowed under the covers, nary to be heard from again-so I'm sorry I am late in updating! I'm still woefully tired but you're all so sweet to ask about me, so I'm dragging myself to my computer to update.

Who's ready for some Erik backstory? Or I guess a better question... is Christine ready?

Onward!

xx

Christine finished her plate with little enthusiasm, her mind still going over Erik's words.

He wanted to be married to her.

If he was anyone else, she would think he wasn't being serious. At the theatre, it was well known that men would say a lot of things to the girl they were attempting persuade to go out with them. But with Erik... things were so different. She believed him.

But that did not bring her closer to knowing what she wanted.

She could readily admit, though, that it was tempting. She loved a great many things about him, yet he remained a mystery in so many others. But he seemed to recognize that when he told her that she had to know some details about him before she gave any sort of answers, and she was grateful.

Her parents had been married young and quickly. Many had thought she was pregnant, so speedy was their courtship, but she remembered being tucked into bed, her mama smoothing her hair and telling her how she and her papa had come together.

"My parents were taking me to a show for my birthday."

"Was Papa there?" Christine had asked, though she'd heard the story many times.

Her mama smiled, tapping her nose gently. "Hush now, Christine, or how shall I tell you the story?"

Chastened, Christine nestled more fully under the covers, ready to listen.

"I was so excited. I got all dressed up in a new dress, and your grandparents and I went out to a lovely dinner beforehand. The theatre was beautiful, so grand and stately, and the music was wonderful." Her eyes looked so dreamy, her smile so soft, and Christine hoped that someday her own love story would be as magical.

"But where was Papa?" she prompted, hoping Mama wouldn't mind.

"When it was over, I had to use the restroom, and my parents were going to get the car, so I was to meet them out front. But there were a lot of people and I got lost."

Christine gasped excitedly. This part was always her favorite. "Were you scared?"

Her mama smiled. "A little," she confessed. "But then a young, handsome violinist came to my rescue."

"Was it Papa?"

"Of course it was your papa!" a voice from the doorway confirmed in mock outrage. "Who else would be able to steal your mama's heart?"

"No one!" Christine exclaimed, just as she always did.

And no one ever had.

But even love of the sincerest sort could not persuade cancer not to form.

But in their years together, no one could doubt their love for one another. For her.

And soon the questions about their hasty marriage stopped. And Christine at least would not have to worry about those—not when she saw so few people in her everyday existence now.

She stood and began to clear the dishes, extinguishing the candles quickly. So much for her romantic dinner. But still, it had ended in what could be construed as a marriage proposal, so perhaps it was not a total loss. She smiled grimly at the thought.

Christine eyed Erik's plate rather dubiously. She didn't imagine he'd return to it, he seemed to eat as a courtesy to her rather than for himself, but still, she covered it in plastic wrap and tucked it in the fridge before beginning to clean up the rest of the kitchen. A part of her wanted to eavesdrop on Erik's conversation with the detective, but she also appreciated the time to collect her thoughts.

"Christine?"

Erik stood in the doorway, watching her, and she stopped scrubbing the pot. "I didn't hear you come in." Not surprising since the water was running. "Any news?" He nodded his head, though he did not elaborate further. "Is it that bad?"

"It has... implications that would indicate that it could be."

Christine shuddered and fiddled with her rubber glove. Erik had suggested she buy them if she was insisting on doing the hand washing herself, and she had wanted to kiss him for his thoughtfulness. Now, all her fears were returning, and she wished Detective Nadir had waited until tomorrow to call.

"Are we leaving?"

She didn't want to. She liked this house. The décor was decidedly beachy, with the white woodwork and large windows that overlooked the water. But there was a warmth and coziness to it as well that she appreciated. It did not seem particularly Erik, but he had never complained about the airiness of the home. She hoped he was not merely putting up with it for her sake. She wanted him to be comfortable too.

Though if his choices in clothing were any suggestion, his tastes would be decidedly darker and more masculine. Perhaps even cave-like.

"Not tonight." She nodded, still fiddling with the glove. "Christine, will you please join me in the living room? We have things to discuss."

The knot of dread in her stomach clenched all the more, and she suddenly wished she'd abandoned her dinner as Erik had.

She followed behind him obediently, settling on the couch and tucking her legs up beneath her. Erik sat to her right in a chair, though he made sure he could face her properly.

"Are you frightened?" he asked presently, and there was no denying she was.

"Yes," she affirmed. "I don't want him to find me."

Erik looked at her oddly for a moment, before speaking once again. "I should begin by saying that you are in no immediate danger. I do not have reason to believe that any person shall be battering down the doors in the middle of the night, so in that at least you might rest easy."

What had her life become that she did genuinely believe that might be a possibility?

"Okay," she confirmed in a quiet voice. She wasn't going to overreact. And she most certainly was not going to cry. She'd had quite enough of that.

"You should also know that we do not believe it is currently the Phantom, as you know him, who left the note for you and wishes you harm."

Christine glanced up at him sharply. "What?" Her mind reeled. "So... it was just a prank then? The letter, I mean, not the…" She swallowed. "The murder."

He shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving hers as he regarded her. "No. Simply that... Detective Nadir has been given reason to believe that it might be a man from my past. And that you are not their primary concern."

She had not been expecting that. Not at all.

And she didn't know how to feel about it.

"Are you... are you in a lot of danger?"

His hesitation to answer did nothing to quell her fear for him. "Our history is not... an amiable one."

Christine bit her lip, not sure how to prompt for more information when her questions were so disjointed. She wanted to quiz him on their current circumstances—was he sure they shouldn't move? Would it be better that they return home? And how did he feel about this new development? For so long she harbored guilt that Erik would end up being hurt because he had the misfortune of being assigned to her, but if this man was actually after him...

She had worried that Erik was resentful of her. But as she considered it, thought about asking him if it was safe for her to return to her life before and leave him to his troubles, she knew she would never do so. For that would leave him all alone, just as she would have been if he had done the same. And the thought of being without him, of someone hurting him, killing him while she simply went about her own life…

It was a horrible thought.

Who was this man, that made Erik seem so sad, yet so very angry?

"Who is he?"

It mattered. Maybe he wished it didn't, but it did. He claimed she was the first person he'd ever protected as a marshal, so it seemed unlikely that he was a disgruntled would-be murderer, seeking revenge when his target was taken from him. But even now, she knew so little about such things.

Erik seemed reluctant to talk, and he suddenly felt so far away. Whatever it was, it appeared as though it would be painful, and she knew she'd rather have someone comfort her through it rather than have to sit stiffly in a chair being stared at. She patted the seat next to her in welcome. "Would you rather sit here and tell me?"

Erik hesitated. His eyes clearly revealed his preference, but still he kept himself from coming to her. "When you know what I have to say, you may not want me so close."

That was not an encouraging thought. But still, he looked miserable, and she didn't like that. Not at all.

"Then if it comes to that, I'll move to the chair myself, okay?"

Erik sighed, but obliged. They had yet to sit here together, their house still new to them, yet full of promise for what it might become. She'd hoped after dinner they could watch a movie. She'd found a popcorn maker under the stove, and had plans to make some—the only thing missing from having such nights at the hotel. Erik didn't seem the sort to indulge, but he had changed a great deal in the time she'd known him. He relaxed more, smiled more. And she was glad of it.

She nestled a bit closer, not liking the distance between them, not if they were to talk of heavy matters.

"I do not know where to begin," he confessed, somewhat abashedly.

Christine reached out and tucked his hand between both of hers. "When did you first meet him?"

Erik stared down at their entwined appendages, and she stroked it softly with her thumb in encouragement. "I do not know the precise date. Time held little relevance then."

Christine refused to grow frustrated. This was clearly difficult for him, even as she wished he would simply speak plainly. "Okay, so what's his name?" Surely that would be easy to answer.

"Most know him as 'the Shah'." He waited, evidently trying to ascertain if the title meant anything to her. It didn't, beyond the typical use as a man of importance in foreign lands. A lord. A king.

But that didn't mean she knew any such person herself.

"He had a true name, I am certain, but those who worked for him were never allowed to use it. It showed deference, I suppose."

"So you were an employee. What sort of company did he have?"

Erik smiled at her, a sad sort of indulgent thing that made her feel silly for asking.

"He had many fronts for his business operations, but I worked at none of them. I was a... guest in his home, in the beginning. He had taken his son to a traveling fair and... noticed me there. The boy took an interest and I was... procured."

Christine's eyes widened. "He kidnapped you? How old were you?"

It was difficult to picture Erik working in a circus-like environment. Everything about him was perfectly maintained, his suits crisp and tailored to his emaciated frame. He did not at all seem a performer.

"You cannot kidnap the willing, Christine," Erik told her gently. She relaxed somewhat at that, though she knew she shouldn't. The seriousness of his tone suggested that this did not hold a happy outcome. "I am not certain of my age, either. Not yet a man, I suppose. I had been given to them as a boy, you see, and the years tended to muddle with time."

Given?

Her stomach clenched. "Sold?"

Erik nodded almost imperceptibly. "I told you that I had no true mother. She preferred money to my company."

She couldn't help it. She abandoned Erik's hand in favor of wrapping herself about his arm, hugging it to her. "Were they at least somewhat kind to you?" Her papa had taken her to fairs before, and though the people often seemed slightly guarded to outsiders, they were friendly and kindly enough. But maybe the ones who were willing to pay money to a mother in exchange for her child would not be so... At least, not in any ways that mattered.

"Was it... was it very terrible?"

She felt the shudder go through him, belying the casual shrug. "I survived." He snorted, a disgusted sound. "Imagine their surprise when suddenly their living corpse broke free of his cage. A veritable zombie running free in the world at last." His tone was derisive and biting, and her own anger for him simmered.

"That's what they called you?"

His lips thinned at the memory. "That was how I was displayed, yes. Plenty were willing to pay to mock and jeer at the boy with the hideous face."

Christine shook her head, disbelievingly. "Why didn't someone call for help? You were a child!"

He shrugged again. "There were many children there, traveling with their parents. They did odd jobs about the place. Perhaps if I did not hold value as an attraction, I would have been permitted to help. But I made my... displeasure at the arrangement quite well known, so I was not allowed out of my cage."

Christine swallowed, not wanting to picture the horrors he must have suffered. Was it any wonder he expected her to fear him? Spurn him for the face he did not ask for? "And that's when this Shah found you?"

Erik nodded. "I do not recall when he had come. It was... easier when I did not look at the faces of my audience. But his men came and told me they were going to help me. I believed them."

Her heart ached, for the hope that must have kindled. Yet to be abused yet again...

"Then what happened?"

"I was introduced into the household. I quickly realized that it was not as I had hoped. I was not truly free; I had only exchanged one cage for another."

Unwilling to release his arm, she tried to wipe her tears on her covered shoulder before he could notice, only for Erik to suddenly turn and look at her, a frown upon his face as he smoothed them away with his thumb. "You are crying? You are crying for your Erik?"

She could only nod, her words trapped behind a lump in her throat. "I wanted you to say that he freed you and was kind to you. That you were given a chance to be happy and safe."

His frown deepened. "I am sorry that I cannot do so. I do not wish for you to be unhappy."

Christine cried all the more, for his sweetness, for his care. "Someone should have helped you," she insisted. "It's not right that no one did."

At that, his lips formed a tiny, tenuous smile. "You did," he reminded her. "You are kind and want me to be happy and safe. And you kiss me." There was still a note of amazement in his voice as he recounted that part, and she could not help it. She leaned forward and bestowed him with another, simply because she needed to remind him that it was all true.

He allowed it for a moment before he pulled away, his expression tormented. "I killed for him."

Sooo... Just putting it all out there, aren't you, Erik? Think that's a good thing? And how do you think Christine is going to react? If I'm up to it, I'll see about getting an early update out as an apology gift for my tardiness...