The day progressed steadily. Nadir had left, looking at properties nearby, a place he could permanently stay without intruding upon the small family. It had been on his mind for a while, but Erik's return certainly triggered him into action. Although his friend put up with him, he was not sure if either could stand living together once they were both back on their feet. And trodding back to his own country was most certainly not an option. Yes, a new situation would be healthier for both of their sanities.

Christine emerged from the bedroom only an hour later, dressed and optimistic to start the day. She had pinched her cheeks a bit, biting her lip to emphasis the color. Staring into the mirror hanging in the hall, she eyed herself. Had she changed? She certainly had gained a few pounds, here and there, after birthing two children. But then again, she was rather skinny during her Opera days. Dancers were groomed to stay in top shape, and she remembered a few ballerinas starving themselves before performances, or smoking to curb their appetite. She shook that memory off, but then another one came bubbling up.

"Christine, what is it?" Erik said with a frustrated sigh.

They were only just warming up before a vocal lesson. She was concentrating very hard on his cravat. She felt rather dizzy at the moment.

"I am tired, Maestro."

His gaze pressed hard from the piano bench. After a long second, he spoke.

"Very well. Continue with the scales." And that was the end of it. For a while.

The lesson was going exceptionally smooth considering her current state of health. She leaned upon the piano a bit, which did not escape his notice, but he declined comment, she noticed gratefully.

Auditions for La Traviata were nearly commenced, and although her voice was improving by the day, they both new she would not be ready for this Opera run. Maybe the next one, Erik had said, if she worked hard.

So, still in the ballet corps, she would run back and forth between rehearsal and lessons, sneaking in back passages and doorways in order to swing by unnoticed. Sometimes he would let her start stretching during their lessons. She had appreciated that. It was all very tiring.

He was fixing the sheet music between songs when her stomach grumbled especially loudly.

"When have you last eaten?" She felt, as opposed to heard, his anger rising.

Blood flushed away from her face, sinking down into her chest.

"Oh! I am sorry, Erik!" She cried, brow furrowing in anxiety.

It had been a day. Well, a day and a half, to be exact. And she certainly was not the best dancer in the corps, definitely towards to bottom in skill and grace. That fact did not pass the other dancers, Christine thought grimly. She needed every bit of extra leeway to have even a chance at earning a dance solo, and she had expected him to be proud that she was so committed. Obviously, he wasn't.

Erik slammed the cover over the piano keys. This was the end of the lesson, it looked like. "How on earth can your voice improve if you neglect your body, Christine?"

"I was trying to prepare, to look presentable for auditions!" His anger, bright at the beginning, mellowed and dissipated. He seemed more pacified, at least.

"Oh, Christine." He looked like he wanted to leave the bench, to approach, but he stayed stagnant, only relaxing his spine a little. Mortified at his words, she just stared at the floor.

"Listen to me, my dear. Do not alter yourself for them" He said with noticeable disgust. "You have a golden future ahead of you, do not lower yourself in such a way."

His tone almost frightened her, its fervency and perhaps imploring nature left her silent. She could only nod.

A few moments later he returned to her with a large lunch. She was famished.

Brutus' wet nose brushing against her palm broke her from her reverie. Christine felt silly sometimes. Erik had not complained last night. She smiled to herself and padded down the steps.

A contented Josephine sat with plate at the table, Erik's proud gaze being the only clue to her that he had cooked. She couldn't blame him, really, in that these little bits of parenting carried heavy importance with him. He had been excluded from those kinds of moments.

"Good morning." She said, kissing her husband's cheek.

Erik patted Brutus on the head.

"Where has Nadir gone off to?" Christine asked.

"The old fool went property hunting I expect." He said, flipping the newspaper with this index finger.

This alarmed Christine. Erik had just gotten back. Was this why he was leaving? The children adored him, and he was good to confide in. Nadir had not spoken to her about it. This prompted her to ask-

"He's moving?"

Erik set down his paper and looked at her, obviously not anticipating such a response.

"Yes. Why, Christine, did you expect him to live with us forever?" He said.

"Well, no, but it was nice, when he was here. I like him. The children do too. He's a good friend."

Erik looked noticeably perturbed. He thought for a bit, staring at Josephine finishing up her food.

"Do not fear, my wife, that foul leech will be around, sooner than later, unfortunately."

She took it as a concession on his part. Erik and Nadir were friends, after all, as loathe as her husband would be to admit it.

"Mama! Can you sing today?" Her daughter chimed in.

Erik turned sharply to look at Christine. So much for a surprise.

"You have kept at it?" He seemed surprised. Not hurt, necessarily. It wasn't a betrayal. Not in the slightest. But she could understand how that decision would cause him to stop. Her voice had been both of theirs, a result of the continual effort on both teacher and student.

"I wanted to surprise you." Christine shrugged.

"Yes, but why?" His expression was still unreadable, much like his voice.

"It pained me to just stand by and watch our work go to waste." She replied honestly. "It helped me."

She knew that he realized what she meant when he nodded slowly. It helped me remember you. To remember us together. I didn't know if you were coming back. What else was I to do?

"Good. I am glad of it." A peaceful look gathered in his eyes, making them twinkle.

She hugged him then, a brief embrace from behind him sitting in the chair. His unmasked cheek touching hers. He sighed.

"You will sing for me, no?" He said, as if remembering something.

"Of course Erik, but I have some things to do first." Feeding the chickens, dogs, taking the horses out to pasture, to name a few.

"I will take care of all that." He said, abruptly standing, causing her balance to falter a bit.

"My apologies, my dear." He mentioned, before darting towards the door. Before he did so, though, he called rather loudly towards the upstairs of the house.

"Alexandre!" He waited a few moments. Scuffling of feet could be heard from above. "Quit daydreaming and warm your mother's voice up, if you please."

Christine stood by the piano. Erik had been gone nearly a half hour, which granted her more time to sufficiently warm her voice and grab a bite to eat. Good, she thought. As her son began to play into the sixth octave, she felt a fluttering feeling accompanying her rapid heartbeat. Christine smoothed out her dress, an attempt at soothing herself as well as drying her dampening palms. What if he didn't like it? She told him she had been practicing, yet it was entirely on her own. It was a difficult feat for anyone to self correct without a teacher, and she did not consider herself a musical virtuoso by any means.

What if he didn't like the song? It was stupid, she knew. He had always been rather insistent on what she should and should not sing, what would best suit her voice. But this piece was challenging, not just for it's difficult range, but its demanding for strong breath control, as well.

What it all boiled down to though, was she had no idea how he would react. Like most things, Christine thought. She was able to read his facial and body expressions fairly well, despite his reluctance to outwardly show emotion sometimes. Maybe this is what made her better at it though, she had to look for the hints; a turn of the head, a quirk of the lip, to determine if he was contented or furious.

The door swinging open broke her from her thoughts. It looked like her warm ups were done. The nerves came back. Erik smiled at her. This was certainly the most jovial he had been since his return, and it relaxed her a bit. He was her husband. What would he do if she was flat? Not cast her in a role? The drama of her situation felt so high because the stakes were so low. Still, she wanted to please him, maybe venture to impress him, but that took a lot, so Christine kept her hopes at bay.

Alexandre shot up from the piano, taking the hint that his father was eyeing it from the moment he walked in the door. Erik nodded in thanks.

"I heard a bit of the scales, they were very good." He said casually as he took a seat at the bench.

A small smile emerged from her, but inwardly it felt as if several tiny explosions were taking place in her chest cavity. His role of husband transitioned to teacher with practiced ease. And the fact that her teacher had complimented her, that was a victory in and of itself, clearly.

"Now, what have you been working on?" He seemed intrigued.

"Oh, some arias here and there. Last week Alexandre helped refresh my memory of Pamina's aria, and I've worked on quite of bit of Carmen. I'd like to sing another piece today, though." Christine said.

"Yes? And what would that be?" He said with a quirked eyebrow.

Shifting through some papers and sheet music on top of the piano, she finally handed over the piece in question.

"Ah. The Doll's Song. I do not doubt you, my dear. Show me what exactly you've been working on." He said, briefly glancing over the sheet music.

"Whenever you are ready, Christine." He said. She saw the warmth in his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded, and he launched into the song, coaxing the difficult notes from the piano as if he had it committed to memory. Maybe he did, she mused.

Alexandre and Josephine's excited faces did not escape her notice, and that gave her the courage to fully expose her voice. It ebbed and flowed through the melody, matching his rhythm side by side. Her voice soared, and she took enjoyment in playing the character. Almost halfway through the song, she got lost in it all, focusing solely on the sounds she knew she could produce, regardless of who was in the room. Approaching the G#, she looked at Erik with joy, and teasing him a bit, she purposely held the note longer than usual, liking how his shocked face tensed and then relaxed. A few minutes later, the song ended.

It was perfect. She knew it was perfect.

There was silence, his expression unreadable. Great.

"Christine- that- that was-" His eyes were running all over the room, literally searching for a word. "-flawless."

Then he stood from the bench and took two large steps to where she was standing. Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her soundly.

"But I should not be surprised, you've only gotten lovelier since the day I met you." He said, pressing his forehead to hers.

She should not have pinched her cheeks that morning, the red flush she had then covered it.

"I'm glad you liked it." She said.

"Liked it? Liked it?! Christine, by God! Have you been holding out on me?" He laughed loudly.

She was the one that initiated contact then, bracing her arms around him fiercely.

"Alexandre, what is your secret?" He asked.

The four of them all fell into a comfortable routine. Nadir came for supper often, speaking with the adults and children alike. Christine felt lucky to have someone to confide in. Someone who knew her husband well. They regularly talked, and she considered him as close a friend as she would her dear Meg.

It was the first snow of the year. Late, for this deep into November. Although, for what the weather lost in its late timing, it made up for in its severity. Large banks were soon building upon the countryside, snow steadily covering the land. White flakes coated the barren fields, and the children had been begging to be let out. Erik had promised them he would take them out, were Alexandre to finish his English. It was nearly four, after all. Dinner had to be started soon, and darkness would soon fall upon La Rochelle. Their Uncle Nadir was expected within the hour. Alexandre would have to be hasty in his work.

Erik was splayed upon the fainting couch, dozing. Fire warmed the parlor, contrasting against the dull sky poking in through the window pane. Josephine sat, playing with Macbeth on the floor, flopping his ears back and forth. Brutus was most likely off somewhere avoiding such torment. And in the corner sat Christine, mending her son's ripped shirt. It had been torn from Alexandre falling off Oberon, attempting to jump a rather tall hurdle. The aging horse was most definitely not fond of that escapade.

Erik had been very active in the children's education, much to their mother's delight. He began to give Alexandre equestrian and piano lessons, and Josephine enjoyed violin and voice instruction from her father. Christine also felt contented by the fact that she had an extra person to help out around the house, as cynical as the fact may be.

She could not begrudge Erik his naps, since he slept so little, as she eyed him lazily. She thought it obvious, but her husband had a rather pleasing figure, tall and well-built, though he would never believe it. Fortunately, he had gained back most of his lost weight and he looked, well, human again. Still, he was much too skinny as her preference would dictate, making a mental note to put more food on his plate in the future.

Erik actually appeared rather comical. He was much too large for the short furniture piece. Long limbs stretched well past the end, and arms reached to the floor. His mask was slightly askew, giving hint to his present lack of consciousness. She smiled to herself at her husband's endearing state, pulling the thin thread through the light cotton.

This peace was shattered, however, by a small-but growing young man. Her son was getting close to her height, at the age of nine. Just going through another growth spurt this fall, Alexandre would probably be as tall as Erik, she guessed. Christine's only warning to her son's rapid attack were the heavy footsteps, an undisguised pounding, rising in volume. She assumed Alexandre had alerted his father, however Erik must have been exhausted to be sleeping this soundly. He typically woke up to even the slightest noise. Perhaps he was just comfortable. A corner of her mouth lifted.

The corner soon distorted into an anxious grimace, though, as she watched in dismay as her son practically launching himself at the sleeping victim. Alexandre must have completed his work for the day.

Christine couldn't decide between laughing or cringing. This attempt at making a decision, however, overclouded her judgement in warning her husband.

"Papa!" The boy hit his weight unceremoniously on his father's chest, slamming with a playful sort-of gusto.

Erik's eyes widened in panic, unsuspecting arms and legs flailing themselves to and fro, eventually landing themselves and their owner on the floor with a dull thud. Alexandre at least had the good sense of backing up, mind you, during this loud fall.

Erik's chest was heaving, his breathing lumbering and uneven. A broad hand flew to his face, ascertaining the damage to his masked cover. Correcting it rather hurriedly, and fixing himself out of his stupor, his eyes caught sight of his current attacker. They narrowed into two yellow slits.

Alexandre smile soon faded in looking down upon his father. The two others in the room froze, waiting for a consequence. The silence was palpable.

In one swift motion, Erik stood up, towering far beyond the growing boy. Scooping down, he hurled Alexandre over his shoulder, posture unaffected by the weight. Caught by surprise, the boy resisted in response, making pitiful attempts to thrash and squirm from his father's grasp.

"Erik!" Christine warned, throwing her project back in her seat.

Erik kept his eyes forward. "The boy wishes to play in the snow. He shall!" The front door flew open, gusts of wind and snow being swallowed into the house.

The pair trudged into the growing storm- or rather, Erik did.

Christine hastily started toward the door, confronted with the sudden chill.

"Papa! Let me go, let me go!" Alexandre said.

"Let you go? I'm only too happy to oblige, my dear boy!" He said, voice laced with mirth. And with that Alexandre was sent hurtling into a nearby snow drift.

He landed rather gently, much to Christine's relief. The unassuming pile made for an excellent cushion. Any further anxiety was calmed, however, by the simultaneous laughs she registered.

"Papa, do it again!"

Erik turned to see his wife- head cocked, arms crossed, and eyeing him expectantly. He smirked.

He called over his shoulder, "Of course, son, but it is your mother's turn!"

Christine's expression faltered. Her delicate brows raised, and her mouth opened in exasperation. In a weak attempt at avoidance, she began backing up the steps.

"Erik, no." His smirk widened into a grin. In the midst of all the commotion, Josephine had reached the doorway. Christine felt a light push at her back.

"Josephine, you too?"

"It appears so" Erik said. Their daughter giggled.

Christine shrieked as Erik heaved her over his broad shoulder, just as he had with Alexandre. "Come, my beautiful bride, it's a bit too warm in the house."

Christine was unable to stop laughing. She felt like a little girl, playing as she was. Her attempt at relieving his solid grasp from her person was in vain until he finally released her.

She flew into the drift right beside Alexandre. Pure joy overcame her being. Alexandre, sensing a prime victim, immediately jumped, barely giving Christine an opportunity the catch her breath.

"Alexandre!" She almost screeched.

Josephine then proceeded to jump in the snow, joining her mother and brother in the icy bank.

The former Daroga of Mazandaran approached the four on his pony, cocking his head slightly to gauge the scene.