It's been a while! We're building up to the climax now, a few more chapters and this story will be concluded. This chapter was extremely difficult for me to write, as I wanted to cover a lot of conflicting emotions and motivations. Logistics were hard too. I tried to make it as realistic as possible. Thank you for reading!

p.s. I had some formatting issues earlier, but they're fixed now.

"Wake the children. It's time to leave." Erik said.

Christine chilled. Of all situations in the realm of possibility, she did not ever conceive this one to occur. Stupid Christine. Stupid Erik. Stupid Nadir. Her thoughts became clouded, muddling in shock. Her gaze bore into that of her husbands, searching for… what? Confirmation? Affirmation? Truth? She already knew it, anyway. The Shah's supporters, whoever these men were, had reached Paris. They had sought Erik for seven years, all spurred by their rigid sense of justice. Did she really think they would have gone back in defeat? Paris. Not far from- no, surely not! Even despite her rather tumultuous tenure at the Garnier, the papers nor the public had gained the knowledge of her family's whereabouts. Those who had know of her family's residence, Madame Giry, Meg, Raoul, and possibly Phillippe, would not betray her in that way. The Count was not fond of her, she knew, but he stood nothing to gain from helping another country's law enforcement return a fugitive. That's what Erik and Nadir were, she thought bitterly. And so was she. It didn't make sense. Madame Giry had passed years ago. There was no way a group of foreigners with no contacts with nobility could get their hands on private information, mail lists… And it had been months since Erik returned, his trail was long buried, if they were even following it anymore. Interrogation? But Raoul wrote the letter hours after he had seen them. It seemed safe to count him out. Phillippe seemed too far of a stretch, he rarely attended the Opera anymore, as Meg had mentioned in one of her lett-

Meg! She would be in rehearsals during this time! It definitely would not take too much asking around to pry information from a stagehand with a few francs as to who knew Christine Daae. No, they wouldn't track Erik using 'Opera Ghost', or whatever names he had been called over the years, much too conspicuous. The Phantom was dead to Paris, anyway. No, they would use her name, someone with contacts in the city. Dear God, what did they do to Meg?

"I think they took Meg."

The two men looked at her in suspicion, urging her to explain further. "Possibly four people are linked to us, and know where we are. One is dead, two have influence and are poor targets, wealth and prestige behind them. And if they were asking around the Opera House, that leaves one remaining option."

Her voice quivered as she trailed off, but she summoned the courage to keep going, they probably had little time to spare. "If they talked to her, she wouldn't have given our location easily, if at all. I pray they didn't"

Tears began to spill over her eyes. How could they have pulled her friend, her sister into this? Kidnapping? Worse? She had no idea. Yet, there was still a chance she wasn't there that day, or had missed their pursuers entirely.

"What is the date on the letter, Christine?" His lips barely moved. She knew where this could be headed. Nadir looked down, staring into the steaming coffee cup.

"Six days ago." She said simply.

It was 300 miles to Paris. If a letter could arrive in that time that would mean… No. Breaking from her frightful thoughts, she lifted her eyes from the table. She stopped, however, as she saw her husband yank Nadir from his chair, forcefully slamming him against the wall, the ceramic cup in his hand shattering into jagged pieces on the wooden floor. Somewhere in the scramble, one of Nadir's hands knocked off Erik's mask. The porcelain followed the cup in fragmenting on the ground. He hardly seemed to notice.

"Erik! Stop!" She screamed. He ignored her.

Brutus, who was before peacefully dozing under the table, started growling. At who, she wasn't sure. Probably Erik. Erik held Nadir by the collar with one hand, and with the other he began to slowly asphyxiate the older man. His voice became deadly, the anger feeding itself at this point, quickly spiraling out of control.

"You fucking idiot! Did it not occur to you to bring this up sooner? Has it gotten through your thick skull the peril you have put us all in? They could be hours away, hell, less than that! And you decide to put on a charade of normality, endangering the very woman who serves you your meal." The words ended in a slither.

Meanwhile, Erik's grip squeezed tighter and tighter, peppering Nadir's normally tan face with red splotches, angry veins pushing out of the skin. The accusation was meant to garner a reply, but the accused could hardly answer. Brutus started barking repeatedly now. She heard Macbeth join in upstairs.

"Erik! We don't have time for this!"

He loosened his hold on Nadir, followed by a sharp inhalation of breath. Sputtering for air, he finally resumed enough energy to respond. To Christine's horror, Nadir eyed Erik with a profound sense of disgust- bordering on rage.

"I did not save your life, Ahriman, for you to attack me like one of your victims. Remove your hands and we can talk."

Erik began to slowly relinquish his grip, but still held onto the man's neck steadily.

"Erik, stop this at once!" Christine attempted to take control of the ever growing tension in the room. It failed.

"What will you do, Erik? Kill me? In your own home, in front of your wife, with your children upstairs?" Nadir spat. Erik remained unmoving.

"I made a mistake. I should have brought the letter to both of you immediately. I apologize." With no leeway to get out of Erik's choke hold, he decided to change tactics.

"Three, Four, Five hours. It makes no difference. How fast can the five of us travel, anyway? There are only two horses who can flee fast enough to make a difference, and if what Christine said is true, her friend is in terrible danger. You would abandon her?"

"If it meant protecting my family, yes." Erik's eyes were wild, glaring in hatred.

"Then do as you say. This ends here. We will finish what he have started, Doost-e-man".

Nadir was right. How could they run? Traveler was too old, Nadir's pony could only bear the load of one person, Oberon could never outpace a trained force with two people. It was impossible. Running had never worked, she knew. Avoiding the crushing weight of decision at the Opera House, she ran then. Erik ran for seven years, and it didn't work. All in vain. Everything she had to bear alone, the joys of pregnancy, the stages of childhood in her children's lives, was for nothing. If this didn't end here. Tonight. She was tired of going through her life, a life which she claimed years before, in pain and triumph, in fear and uncertainty. Always hiding from the past sins of the person she loved. No more running. It just delayed the inevitable, suffering was sure to follow. Now, seemingly, fate had forced their hand. And she accepted it. Accepted it because she was forced to. There was not just herself and Erik to think about. Her children, they needed a father. A present one, in their lives. Christine was utterly unwilling to pass on the dead weight of a father gone to her children. She knew that weight, carried it with her still. And if avoiding that life for her children meant bloodshe-

In a brief motion, Erik finally relented, pushing Nadir off his person in a disgusted panic. He was pacing, Nadir gasping for air, dogs barking. Christine couldn't think. She needed to think. To figure out a plan to avoid the possible destruction of those she loved. Erik stilled. His eyes locked away from Nadir, her, this complete mess they were all entangled in in the small space. She followed his sightline-

Their children stared back at him, faces stunned in fear. Josephine started sobbing. Another noise compounded onto the growls and yaps of the dogs, now both scratching violently at the window.

They had witnessed the entire episode.

They had never seen their father's face.

Christine needed to diffuse the situation. She had no idea how either party would react, and she needed to distract her son and daughter. She wasn't sure if their fear stemmed from Erik's violent outburst or his face, but it was probably a mixture of both.

Approaching Alexandre and Josephine, she quietly hushed her daughter, lifting her easily. She gently stroked her daughters black hair, and it seemed to calm her a bit.

They didn't have much time. By the looks of it, Erik was at a complete loss of words. Maybe she was the better one at finding the right ones, at least this time. Making sure to speak clearly, she slowly began to address them.

"Alexander, Josephine, listen to me. What you just saw is not important right now. What is important is that we are all in great danger. Alexandre, I need you to take Josephine to your father's office. There is a lever on the left side, behind the second book on the eight shelf from the bottom. Can you remember that?" He nodded, dimly. "I need you to stay there until one of the three of us gets you, or until sunrise, whichever comes first." She said.

This seemed to break Erik from his cloud, as he cut in- "No Christine, you will take Oberon with Josephine. Alexandre can ride Nadir's pony. You will leave. Rid yourselves of the one who has destroyed your life. Once and for all."

This statement sparked an anger deep in her chest. They spoke of love, a marriage filled with commitment and loyalty. Did that mean nothing to him? Her constant devotion for ten years would not be thrown away in a desperate attempt to flee. The children couldn't possibly be safe. They still chanced running into the group on the road. They were coming from Paris, yes, but she had no closer idea as to which direction her tormentors planned to attack from. And Meg! Her dear friend could quite possibly be alone, held captive at the hands of desperate men, nearing the end of their seven year quest. Did her husband truly think she was going to let him fulfill some suicide mission? Alone?

This whole situation! Because the one unfortunate man she loved most in the world wanted to be happy. He doubted he thought he deserved it, but she knew better. He had given her music, children, a life. More than she could have ever asked for. And despite all of this, he had committed terrible crimes. Was this justice? Retribution? Maybe. Still, it didn't even matter, in the end. She wasn't going to be a bystander to the ruin of her own family. Her own life.

"Erik, no. I'm not leaving you."

A look of grief passed over his face. "Dammit, Christine, leave! I am not budging on this!" His voice was spiraling again. The once delicately held control was rapidly approaching frightening levels. He slammed his fist against the wall, hard. With Josephine cradled in her arms, she didn't even flinch, her expression almost bored, in a patronizing way.

Before she could retort, however, a loud shriek resounded just beyond the door, followed by a gunshot. The scream was high, sharp, in contrast to the wind that had softened over the past several hours.

"Meg!" Christine gasped.

Nadir turned to look outside, peeling back the floral curtains that covered the window.

His eyes widened, and he sputtered quickly. "Six men. They have a young woman, tied at the wrists. About 100 yards North. Erik, where are your firearms?"

Nadir carried one on him at all times, used to maintaining personal security every since his days as police chief. Erik was not fond of this type of weapon, but Nadir was not sure how effective a lasso would be at the current time and distance. Erik understood this. They needed to keep the men as far away from the house as possible. Six men? She was sure there had been more. Nadir must have mentioned it before. Christine could only assume a few had given up, maybe even died. Persia was a thousands of miles away. Now, it only meant greater chances of her family's survival.

"One is inside the piano, underneath the cover. Another is in a pocket on the side of bedside table. Bullet cartridges in the same places", Erik said.

Immediately Nadir was off. Christine clutched her children, then, maintaining a facade of confidence if only to soothe their immense fear. "We will be back for you, I promise."

She would do everything in her power to fulfill that vow. It was then that she understood the immense power of love she had for her children. She truly understood now, the strength Erik drew upon those many years ago when he turned back. It all made sense. There was no other option. Fight, bleed, die, be alone. To protect them.

Brutus and Macbeth quieted more now, still growling menacingly at the door. Christine needed to hurry. Setting Josephine down, Erik approached them suddenly, lowering himself to be face to face. His deformity was on full display now, closer than ever. Christine could tell it terrified him more than anything, and she would have been proud had it not been the life threatening conditions they were put under. He covered Alexandre's shoulder with one of this hands, the other resting on his chest. This action caused him to calm, his expression steadying, realizing it the same father he knew.

"I need you to do as your mother said", Erik addressed his son in a humble, matter of fact sort of way. The emotion hung thick in his eyes, but his voice was not affected. Alexandre nodded dumbly, and before he could go, Erik's eyes darted back and forth, between each child. One hand coming to rest upon Josephine's head. She looked terrified, and Christine did not know again if it was her father's face or the horrible circumstances. Knowing his time was shortening, Erik quickly spoke.

"Your ugly father loves you very much, you know. And he is sorry." He took a brief inhalation of breath, then stood up slowly.

"Go along", he said.

Alexandre grabbed his younger sister's hand, pulling her towards the secret room. He closed the door behind them. Nadir was probably just finishing up loading bullets. They had minutes, seconds, maybe. Erik turned to her, desperately engulfing her into his arms, holding tightly.

"I'm so sorry, ma cherie."

Christine held her face away from him, looking at him fully. He looked frightful. A face that had lost all hope. Palming either side of his face, she spoke directly.

"Now is not the time for apologies. I love you. I don't need some self sacrificing hero! The most courageous thing you can do now is to face them. Face them and win. You are coming out of this alive." With no reaction, she continued. "Promise me!".

He probably felt guilty, guilty for bringing them into all of this. Yes, he had made a grievous error in underestimating his enemies, falling into the embrace of the life he always wanted. And she couldn't blame him for that. She knew he wanted this so badly, just wanted peace. His past experiences relegated him to the false belief that peace was only in death. Erik thought that by atoning for his sins now, with his life, he could break clean from all the magic and ghosts. He probably thought, somewhere in his twisted psyche, that it was for the better, if not for him, for them. The greater good, so to speak. She had to show him, some way, that there was peace for him in life, in claiming it for himself.

"Christine," he began.

"No. Erik. Those seven years were not for nothing. Fight. Please. Fight the hardest you've ever fought in your life, because now you finally have something to lose."

She stroked his cheek, leaning upwards to kiss him forcefully. Hands snaked up and threaded through her hair. A nearly but not quite instantaneous reaction to her passionate words. Her tongue stroked his lips, eventually touching his own. Both of their breaths became ragged, positioning their heads quickly to simultaneously get more air and change the angle of the kiss. Erik quickly took over, slowing its tempo. His tongue languidly made motions with her mouth. He feeling hands graced up and down her body, as if memorizing her for the last time. No! This was not a goodbye kiss! She reacted suddenly, pressing into his body as if to merge together. Her feet stood on top of his, keeping him in place. She pulled him by the neck deepening their contact. He made a noise in surprise. Finally winning out, she ended it to look him straight in the eye.

"Promise me", she said.

He paused them, expressions flooded with strange emotions.

She waited.

"I promise."

With that, a determined endurance settled over him. She could tell in his body language. His fists bunched inward on themselves, the blood fleeing and making his hands look deathly white. His face set in a calm anger, as if he was used to this mode of operating. It was bitterly stoic. She didn't want to think about, but thankful nevertheless, for both of the men's experience. It may be the only thing that would make them capable of surviving the night.

Nadir returned, handing over a gun to each of them. "You know how to shoot?" He said.

"Yes." Christine answered.

Her voice morphed into an emotionless surety. Was she prepared to shoot someone? To kill? It was the only way to avoid the carnage of her family. Police authorities were miles away, and surely the Opera Ghost wasn't on good terms with the Surete. She took the lead of Erik and Nadir. It was the only way to do this.

"Christine, listen to me. I need you to go upstairs. Do not turn on any lights. They cannot know anyone besides Nadir and I are here. I am going to head out and meet them. I'm keeping with the assumption that they want to avoid killing me. For now. Bring me back to Persia to await justice."

Christine shivered, but kept her eyes towards him, assuring him her understanding with repeated nodding. "I will get Meg. Nadir, stay downstairs, cover me. Christine, crack open the window in our bedroom. Take Brutus and Macbeth, make sure they quiet. On my signal, fire."

A voice, loud and gravely, surged forward. She could not understand its thick, guttural cadences, but the two men did, and they straightened in response. She guessed they were no more than 50 feet away. Two gunshots, spread one after the other with a few seconds between, rang out. She listened to Oberon's painfully sharp wail, dragging out for several seconds. It was the most horrid sound she ever heard. After another second, another shot resounded, and the horse's scream ceased. Another few rounds, and she assumed the other two horses followed. The party wanted to ensure no escape for her husband.

Erik grabbed the oil lamp, tucked the gun in his trouser belt, and casually walked outside, face bare.

Ahriman- demon, evil spirit

Doost-e-man- friend of mine