Erik watched as she moved about, going from one window to the next. They had returned to the cottage for the time being. He kept himself busy with his compositions, but even then he found himself distracted. He was still worried about her-about the way she attempted to go back to doing what she had done before, only to stare blankly at the same page in a book for hours on end. She would eat, but most of the time she would pick at the food as if she was still considering something else. He was glad though that she didn't have too horrible nightmares-that she slept in her bed without trying to hurt herself.

Christine made a habit of coming to visit and the two of them would take walks together. He felt happy for some reason that they could still get along after everything. There were even days when Christine would stay for longer periods of time, not wanting to leave Adellade alone. Some days she brought Meg and Madame Giry with her and all four of them would go for a picnic or shop around the village.

He didn't think they ever dared to discuss what had happened. Not after the time Nadir made one of his visits and accidentally said something which Adellade overhead. She had only sat there, distancing herself from the remainder of the conversation-despite the fact that he had begun to ramble on about trivial matters.

Erik sighed, attempting to do his best to keep to the Daroga's advice to give her time. Several months had passed and he could hardly get a word out of her. That haunted look in her eye had faded, yet it was still there. There were still traces of it there, just beyond the surface.

"She is still healing some," Christine pointed out when he had confessed his concerns to her one day. "It wasn't ever an easy thing-what happened. Didn't it ever take her time to heal after Persia?"

He slowly nodded. "It was easier. The poison itself helped distract her. The nightmares remained however. They still do sometimes…. She'll dream about that place. Every now and again she'll whisper something in Persian, forgetting where she is in the night."

"And now?"

"Now it's as if all life has drained from her. I have been able to whisk away her troubles before, but this? This I've no idea where to begin. I've never known where to begin…."

"Why don't we all take a stroll together?" Christine suggested. "She does love walking around, looking at a new place…. A change of scenery might be good for her."

"There are many places to travel." He blinked, an idea forming in his mind. "And I think I might know the place to go to."

"What made you think of a beach?" she asked as they walked.

"We used to travel to the beach every now and again during our time in England. Mother would close up the inn and take us both down there to see the ocean, watch the boats dock on the piers."

"I thought that-"

"We spent a few years at an inn. The woman who owned it-her name was Rosina Matthews. She was the closest thing I ever had to a mother. Adellade enjoyed it, I believe. She spent her time around the inn, serving drinks and helping out however she could."

"What happened to her?"

"She died. I was in Persia when it happened. According to Adellade, some thieves came and killed her."

"Oh."

"Adellade. She left and found her way to Persia-to me."

They stopped, watching as she walked by the water, carrying her shoes in her hand, dancing along by the edge of the waves, the hem of her skirt wet from the ocean.

"She looks happy," Christine pointed out.

"Living a life of being told what to do and how to act from the moment she was born…. Being able to do whatever she pleases was always a treasured rarity."

"Why do you look at her as if she's still a child?"

"Because in some ways: she is. She always has been."

She sat in the sand and giggled to herself, smiling as the waves lapped up around her.

"She never had a normal childhood, Christine. She never did get to fully enjoy the love and devotion a parent should bestow upon the child. Almost everything was decided for her-and when she did leave, things only got worse. She grew up amongst gypsies, being little more than a dancer for their own entertainment. She had to learn how to fend for herself-how to recognize the signs of danger.

"Even so, I can still see her as a small child. The very first person I had ever known to show me kindness-to not be afraid of what I was. How can I ever think to let that go?"

"Well, I think you might have to reconsider." She nodded toward a young man as he approached Adellade. "Have you ever considered marriage?"

"Now you sound like mother did," he muttered. "Always did ask me about that subject whenever she had the chance…."

"You didn't answer the question."

"For the longest time, it had always been myself and her. I suppose I never did consider the thought. I had to protect her. Mother attempted, but none of the other women were ever appealing to me. Even the Shah attempted such a thing…. That did not end well. But you, Christine, must have had other suitors? The Vicomte de Chagny?"

"Raoul? He's an old friend. Hardly more than that. We were engaged for a bit, but I broke it off. He was still a friend, and that's all he ever could be, I learned."

"I see." He eyed the man as he left, leaving Adellade to herself once more. "I've considered taking her elsewhere. Perhaps back to England or even America for a bit. A change of scenery."

"Oh? How long will you be gone?"

"I never know."

"When will you be leaving?"

"Soon, if she finds it agreeable. Get us both away from all of this. She was a woman with quite a bit of influence-news of her death never does quite vanish."

"I see."

"Perhaps you could join us?" he prompted. "I'm quite certain that Adellade would be very unhappy should she have to leave you behind."

"Only Adellade?"

"I suppose I would be as well," he admitted, "seeing as I've grown accustomed to your company over these past few months."

She lay in the sand, listening to the waves as they tickled her toes. Erik and Christine's voices floated over to her on the breeze and she sighed. It would be nice to travel…. Though for him to extend an invitation to Christine….

She smiled to herself. Erik was odd-he always had been. She didn't think he truly wanted to dare to open himself up to any possibility of love. Then there was Christine-the way he would act when he talked about her singing, the way he seemed to be hurt after she had left, the way he had stared at the rose Raoul had given her as if it had been a painful reminder….

"I taught her because I saw potential. She had a voice that should not go unwasted. Who is to say what happened after?"

Who indeed? It was odd, picturing him taking walks with a wife and possibly a child one day. He would be good as a father. He could tell them stories, play songs on the violin….

She frowned and slowly sat up, seeing the beach stretched out before her, continuing by the water's edge. The image of Madeline Destler came into her mind, her body falling toward the floor as the shots rang out….

Did she feel guilty? She should, yet somehow...she wasn't. Adellade supposed that was what her mind had been wrestling with for so long. She should feel guilty about taking another person's life, yet somehow she didn't. In fact: she felt happy about it-which frightened her. The knowledge that Madeline was dead brought her peace and happiness. They had mentioned it a few times, and she had wanted no more of it, feeling awful about how she reacted.

It was as if she was finally waking from a dream...a dream that had slowly descended into madness and chaos….

Yes, she was afraid to speak on the subject. Afraid that she would confess her happiness-that Erik would think her mad…..

But he had Christine. And he might not realize it himself, but he did have Christine-and Christine had him. If Erik ever did consider to marry, then she would have that to be happy about.

Who ever would know what happened after he had begun to teach her? Still, she was glad for her friend and Erik. They looked nice together. And Christine did love him. She had come back time after time after time again to visit. They had talked a bit about her, and Christine had suggested that he play some of his music for them, and he had complied….

"Adellade!" Christine called out, motioning for her to join them. "It's getting late."

She stood and grabbed her shoes, walking over. Erik eyed her and sighed, reaching out to brush some sand off of her nose.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked.

She nodded and smiled.

"Ah, now that is the one thing I have been missing."