Oh lordy, has it really been TWO WEEKS since my last update? I'm so sorry, loyal readers. This chapter gave me fits and went through several drafts before I finally decided to throw it out there for you. On the plus side, it's all downhill from here. :) Please let me know what you think!

Chapter 30

She woke to warmth at her back. A steady tickle of breath fanned the hair falling across the back of her neck, and she shivered a bit at the sensation. Erik's arm was thrown over her ribs, his palm large and heavy across the upper portion of her opposite arm. His other arm was tucked under her pillow somewhere above her head.

She lay still, not wanting to move. After a few moments, she realized his breathing hadn't changed from that rhythmic in and out she felt now.

He was asleep.

She had only ever seen him sleep that once, the night he had arrived at her apartment in Boston after spending the journey across the ocean in a shipping container. He had woken so easily from her slight touch, so there was no way that she was going to prod him awake now. This moment was too precious for her to break.

The house was quiet. She remembered the fact that Nadir had fled in the middle of the night back to Paris, and she and Erik were alone. Guilt rose up in her for a brief second until she pushed it aside. She hadn't asked Nadir to buy her that cruise ticket using his own funds, and in any case, at least he was returning to his own life instead of hiding here with them.

Hiding. Now that those hunting Erik were shifting and moving across the globe, she supposed they might have to stay here in Saint-Ursanne even longer than first expected.

Erik shifted a bit at her back, his arm tightening around her. Would living in close quarters with this man be so bad anyway? They had never existed separately for long anyway – she had first stayed at his home underneath the opera, and then he had stayed at her apartment in Boston. On the Queen Eleanor, they had shared a room. Under any definition, they had been living together off and on during this past month anyway.

She heard the purr of his voice awakening as he stretched further. His bare face pressed into the back of her hair, and his steady breathing changed to one of inhalation, taking in the scent of her shampoo.

"Good morning," she whispered, one of her hands coming up to lightly run her fingers up and down his silk-clad arm.

His mouth found the shell of her ear through her hair and kissed it. "Indeed."

She shivered. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did. And you?"

"Like a rock." Inwardly, this conversation made her smile. What a normal exchange between them.

His arm, as always corded with muscle, pulled her against him. She could feel him rousing against her upper thigh. The arm nestled under her pillow slid down to wrap around her from the other side until she was cocooned, his body a firm line behind her.

"A man could grow used to waking like this."

She did smile then, though she was facing away where he couldn't see it. "A woman could as well."

Already, she felt more stirrings of desire. She had lived for so long without any kind of contact, and now that she'd had it, she felt herself craving more and more. Did he feel the same way? From the way his hips canted against her backside, she guessed he did.

His arm that rested atop her drifted back so his hand cupped her hip. "Christine…"

She resisted the urge to press back against him. "Y-yes?"

His hand found the bottom edge of her nightgown, brushed over the naked skin of her thigh. She held her breath as he continued round her leg and located the apex of her thighs, ghosted his fingertips across her sensitive skin.

She felt his words, his breath hot against her hair and neck. "I wish to have you again, my lovely Christine."

"Y-yes," she responded again, unable to say more, too focused on one of the cool pads of his fingers sliding up and down her.

"I fear, however…" He trailed off, his finger slow and driving her insane. "Too much, too soon."

Ah, she knew what he meant. Even though his touch was tender, she could tell she was sore.

"Later?" Her voice cracked on the word.

In response, he again hugged her tightly to him, and she thought her heart would burst of contentment and love for him. This was the sort of moment she had followed him here in order to experience, the hope of a life together that could be filled with tenderness and companionship.

"Do you have many plans for today?" she asked.

"After what happened yesterday, and my prolonged absence, I had planned on discovering what you wanted to do."

She smiled even though he couldn't see it. "Breakfast, horses, lunch, reading, singing, dinner, a walk. Not that I've been thinking about it at all."

"In that order, hmm?"

"I can be flexible!"

He rose up on an elbow, gently pushed her onto her back so he could peer down at her. Although his unmasked face was smooth and calm, she could see the worry darkening his golden irises. "Will this life suit you, dearest? There is little else to do here."

She reached up and cupped both sides of his face, brushing her thumbs over one smooth cheek, one rough with deformity. "You suit me."

His eyes widened slightly. "Ah Christine, lovely Christine, I can never deserve you."

She didn't reply, didn't need to argue with him. She had already made her point clear on that sort of topic by just being here, in this bed, in this country, with him. He bent and kissed away her frown, relaxing her suddenly pursed lips.

Their chaste kiss didn't progress further than that. He held her for a long time, and she was content to lounge in bed for as long as he liked, but soon her stomach growled for food.

They dressed, and she didn't comment on the fact that he went into the bathroom to change privately, nor on the fact that he put his wig and mask back on. She had plenty of time to convince him the disguise wasn't necessary around her.

The morning went the way every morning would during the upcoming weeks. Rarely did he rise before her, even if he usually woke first. He would pull her into his arms while she was still heavy with sleep, sometimes seducing her with fingers and lips until she urged him atop her, sometimes merely holding her until she squirmed for food and coffee.

They sat at the kitchen table together, him with his tea and she with her coffee, which he had perfected after the first few tries. Since she couldn't speak or read any of the four official languages of Switzerland, he often read translations from several newspapers to her, which helped her immensely with feeling connected to the rest of the world. Besides, he didn't seem to mind reading to her, and she adored the sound of his voice.

After breakfast, they went out to take care of Caesar and Magikos, and they would do this every morning from then onward. The first time, Erik held her hand in his and raised her fingers for Caesar to sniff, the great horse's chuffing breath hot and wild. After that, however, Caesar seemed to accept her, at least when Erik was around, and over time, she was able to brush him without fear of his hooves or teeth.

The rain of yesterday had vanished, and Erik offered to take her on a ride. She had never ridden a horse, so she was nervous about doing so. At first, he had pulled her astride Caesar, in front of him, and while she had enjoyed the feel of him behind her, Caesar seemed to take offense at being ridden double. He stamped his feet and refused to acquiesce to Erik's commands without arguing.

Christine slid off Caesar, and Erik readied Magikos instead. Once she settled onto the beautiful brown horse, she understood why Nadir loved this beast. Magikos was truly gentle with her, following her lead with little prodding.

Erik took her around the property, pointing out how many acres he owned, and how far she could travel before venturing into someone else's territory. The air around them was cool after yesterday's storms, but the sun warmed her face – the perfect weather to enjoy outdoors. Erik looked magnificent clad in black on his midnight horse, riding with perfect surety. His formal clothing looked a bit out of place in the rolling hills and tall trees of the Swiss countryside, but he was hers, and he was out of the house with her, and she loved him all the more.

She laughed, feeling radiant, in a way she hadn't in a long time. She felt Erik's gaze on her, and met his stare with her own wide grin, now smug as his own lips curled upward in response.

"Perhaps we need daily rides, beloved?" he inquired.

The new endearment added a blush to her already flushed cheeks. "I would love that, Erik!"

And so began yet another addition to their routine. After their ride, and after they had tended to the horses, they would wash up and enjoy lunch together, provided by the ever-present delivery from Saint-Ursanne.

Later that first day spent alone together, Erik mentioned that he needed to venture back to the basement to check on the movement of the men he was tracking. The thought made Christine's stomach knot with worry, but she had to learn to trust Erik with this sort of thing if ever they were going to move forward.

She did, however, want to join him.

"Certainly not," he had protested at first, as he cleared the table of the remains of their lunch. "I let you accompany me once, but that is enough. These topics are not meant for one such as you."

She jutted out her chin. "I'm not that innocent, Erik, not anymore." Of course she wasn't. Hadn't she watched him kill a man right in front of her? Hadn't she tended to his wounds herself? In many ways, she was less innocent than she'd been before meeting him.

His jaw clenched in that way she knew meant he was growing angry with her. "Stubborn girl."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Stubborn partner."

His mouth opened before snapping shut as he thought better of his next comment. Finally, he puffed a sigh. "Touch nothing."

"Got it."

Keeping her end of the bargain, she had touched nothing in the basement, at least not at first. She typically perched on a nearby chair and watched him with interest. He spent his time typing quickly at various keyboards or flitting from one open screen to another.

His focus on this matter fascinated her, though he always left the basement in a worst mood than when he went in. Apparently, the men he tracked were constantly on the move, and he told her that his results showed they were strengthening in response to what had happened in New York. As the weeks went on, Erik took to grabbing his temples in frustration or growling at the data he studied. Once, he even smashed one of the computer monitors.

On the positive side, a week into these trips into the basement with him, Christine discovered that the safe house did indeed have a phone.

The phone was one of those that fed through the computer, and she supposed this was to prevent any sort of tracing. While she knew Erik wouldn't allow her to call her mother or Meg, he might at least be willing to let her talk to Nadir.

To her surprise, he immediately gave her the number to call, and she almost shrieked with delight when she heard Nadir's warm baritone answer. They exchanged pleasantries, and then she raised an eyebrow at Erik, wanting privacy. Again, he gave it without arguing, only mentioning that he would know if she dialed any other number, and that he trusted her not to endanger them both.

She could have rolled her eyes at that, but she knew how seriously he took her safety.

"Now I'm alone," she told Nadir after she heard the door shut above her.

"Needing to get away from our mutual friend already?" Nadir asked, but she could hear the amusement in his voice.

"I can't talk with him hovering over me. But overall, it's been a fantastic first week!"

"I am glad to hear it. I did worry about leaving so quickly."

She settled into a nearby chair, twisting the phone's cord around her fingers. "The time together has been good for us, Nadir. I miss my mom, and my friends, of course, but I can't imagine being anywhere else right now." She let the end of her sentence hang in the air for a moment. Right now, everything was just fine.

"Even so, I do apologize for not even saying goodbye."

"I understand why."

"You seem well – how is Erik?"

She told him about how they had fallen into a routine, which she didn't mind at all. She wasn't that spontaneous of a person anyway, and Erik seemed to thrive on their new habitual schedule. His moodiness had all but vanished, except when in the basement.

After a few more weeks had passed, and although she would never mention it to him, she noticed that Erik had put on some weight. His good cheek was no longer so hollow, his skin merely pale instead of sickly, and his taut stomach was flat rather than concave when they lay in bed together.

She told Nadir about this during one of their phone conversations. They now spoke almost every day, much to Erik's annoyance at first. After he saw how much joy being able to speak to someone else brought her, he stopped sulking about it.

"He is eating more, then?" Nadir asked.

"Two meals a day, in fact," she replied, beaming though he couldn't see it. Indeed, although Erik never ate breakfast, he had taken to joining her for both lunch and dinner. He still ate very little, small bites here and there, but she enjoyed every moment of sharing a meal with him.

"The fresh mountain air must be doing him some good," Nadir said, his voice sly. "Or maybe it's you."

She just laughed and directed the rest of the conversation to talk about what Nadir was up to in Paris.

But really, she could tell a difference in Erik. He spent much of his time in the afternoons working on his music, and while he often wouldn't let her hear a work in progress, the bits she did hear were beautiful. As always, his music mirrored his mood, and therefore, he must be feeling pretty good about how things were going.

On top of that, they had begun Christine's singing lessons once again. After several weeks of no singing, she had grown a bit rusty, but he sent her into drills for days before he let her near an actual aria. The last time she had sung for him had been that disaster in New York when she had rejected the song he had written for her. She still felt guilty about that time, though looking back, she was still not sure she could have performed it for him.

Erik was an excellent music tutor. He was always firm, correcting her without emotion or hesitation. She did appreciate the toughness; she wanted to get better. After a few weeks, the compliments started up, and she knew she was improving.

She didn't even really need the comments he made to discern how she was doing. The warmth in his gaze while she sang told her everything.

He let her try all sorts of different pieces, only when he though she was ready, of course. Some days, he cut their rehearsals short just so she could practice speaking other languages, especially Italian.

"If you want to be believable on stage, my dear," he said one evening, a cold September rain pelting against the windows, "you must be able to speak the language as well as sing it."

But she struggled more with pronunciation than with singing, which flowed from her easily. "Singing comes from somewhere deep inside me," she said, sighing. "But speaking comes from my tongue, and that gets all twisted when I try."

To her surprise and delight, he leaned forward and kissed her. He wore his full regalia, like he almost always did during the day, but he didn't protest when she nudged his mask slightly to the side so that the rest of his mouth was free. She felt the slickness of his tongue probe along her bottom lip, and she parted her lips to meet him with her own.

He stroked her face as he pulled back, readjusting his mask as he did. "The problem is hardly your tongue."

At this, her face blossomed into a deep blush. After all these weeks, after so much time spent in his bed, he could still say something that made her redden.

"I-It isn't?"

"Speaking should come from deep within as much as singing does. You must pretend that you know what you are doing, and eventually, your tongue will believe you do."

"Fake it until you make it, huh?"

"Precisely."

She tried again the line she was trying to read, and then again. She pretended she was the woman speaking those lines, enveloped herself in the character and the scenario. And by the fourth try, the words flowed more easily. She grinned at him, and his own answering smile, however small, dazzled her.

After about a month of being shut in, Christine decided to ask Erik if she could venture into the town of Saint Ursanne on her own. After all, the town was tiny, remote, and mostly not explored by outsiders. She yearned to do more than take walks or ride the trails on horseback, and while she wasn't asking to get away from Erik, she wouldn't mind a little time to herself either.

The first time she asked, he frowned and maneuvered the conversation back to the aria she was working on.

The second time, he walked away, off to the kitchen, and brought her back a plate of chocolates she liked. They had been delivered just that afternoon after she had asked for something sweet. She glowered at him but ate three anyway.

The third time, he sighed – yes, sighed – at her and asked why. This was at least an improvement, and she already had her argument ready. He then proceeded to pick apart every one of her reasons until she had to dash off to the bedroom before he saw her tears.

But she didn't have to ask a fourth time. He followed her upstairs and watched her lay face-down on the bed to hide her hurt. She felt the bed sag as he sat next to her.

"You will want to leave," he said quietly.

"What?" She sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve and rolled a bit to catch a glimpse of him. He rested elbows on his knees, hand dangling loosely. He was turned away from her, but she could see his despondent mood within the slope of his broad shoulders.

"My lovely Christine, you charm others easily. No doubt, over time, you could grow to make friends here."

"I would like that," she said, hating the quiver in her voice. She wasn't lonely, truly lonely the way she had been before meeting Meg. But she missed interacting with others even though she wasn't a very social person by nature. The reality was, she probably just missed Meg, but she wasn't about to tell Erik that.

"Once you meet others," he continued, "what then? What if they want to meet your shut-in lover?"

The term made her ears burn, but she ignored her flare of embarrassment. That's what they were, after all, and she was thrilled to hear him speak of it aloud.

He glanced at her, and then gestured at his mask. "You could not bring them here, and they would suspect why because by nature, humans are a curious creature. Eventually, you might tell them."

She pressed her lips together. "I'm better at secrets than that, Erik."

"And so you are. Therefore, you will be confronted with the reality of your life here. And that is when you will leave."

"No way." She sat up and hugged him from behind, looping her arms around his neck. "You will have to trust me, my love, like in all the ways you've learned to trust me these past weeks. You can't keep me shut up in this house forever."

"Yes, I can," he said, but she heard the petulant tone in his voice, and she knew he was cracking.

"This town is safe, right? And I would never jeopardize what we have here."

"I know." He clasped her arms, then tugged her around him until she sat across his lap. He buried his face against the curve of her neck and shoulder. "I would give anything for your happiness. Even this."

And so he let her go.

He was wrong about making friends. She didn't speak the language, couldn't much relate to the older crowd that lived here. While she smiled and said greetings in French to those she passed, and ordered items at the café, she didn't find much of anyone to form a friendship with. However, for a while, she was content to wander about, studying the medieval buildings, visiting the art museum, sampling the local food, shopping for meals she could cook herself.

He was wrong that giving her more freedom would make her want to leave. If anything, being around others made her realize just how comfortable she was around Erik now. They were in sync with each other, their lives lined up parallel as though they had always existed side by side. Even their fights ended more quickly now, their differing opinions smoothed over with practiced ease.

But he was right about one eventuality. A few weeks after her newfound freedom, she would be confronted with the reality of her life here, unrelated to anything she found within the town of Saint-Ursanne.

Erik himself would force her eyes wide open.

I did warn you! With the next update, this fic officially goes to Mature. You can thank me later. ;)