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"It's always the darkest before the dawn."

Before dawn

"Why did we stop?" Christine asked her husband who was sitting beside her on the narrow bed. Erik pulled out a pocket watch – one that he carried only for the time of their journey – and glanced at it leisurely.

"I don't know. The train wasn't supposed to stop until six thirty in the morning."

"What time is it now?"

"Nine twenty-two," he answered and put away the pocket watch, then rose from his seat. There was shuffling outside of their section, then the sound of opening doors and rushing people, a couple of loud thuds and finally, several men's shouting. A woman screamed.

"Stay here," he ordered and she happily obeyed – when his whole posture tensed like that it always had a reason. Maybe it was just the usual protectiveness over her well-being but this time something really was wrong.

On his way he picked up the mask and covered his face then warily opened the door; the blurred voices were now much louder, as if all the passengers from the sections were rushing to the aisle. Cautiously he leaned forward just to catch one glimpse of the source of the obvious distress of the people around – now he could barely see anything from the passengers outside. Why do women scream all the time? The man who stood the closest to him took a step forward and a robber-looking man was revealed at the end of the corridor, then another and another… the other end was full of them as well.

"Back to your sections!" One of them shouted and the screaming started anew. Now she has a reason at least. Erik pulled back abruptly, yanking the door closed. Christine stood in front of him, her face pale and emotionless.

"What is it?" She whispered and her face twitched a little. He hated to see her afraid.

"Robbery. Don't go out," he commanded as he passed beside her, opening the window with one swift motion. As if she had any intention to leave! She was more than content to stay within the safety of their section, as long as it could be called safety at all. How could he remain that calm in such a situation like this was beyond her.

"But… but they'll come in," she argued, paler and paler with every passing moment. Strangely, she felt quite distant from the events – these kinds of things always happened with someone else. It was certainly not her life she lived right now.

"That's why we go out," he answered casually.

"Outside?"

"Yes."

"But…"

"Christine, listen to me." Briefly he leaned out of the window, searching for any kind of danger; there was nothing. Of course, they were too engrossed in collecting as much money and jewel as they could. How pathetic.

He pulled back. "I go out then I help you climb out as well. Understand?"

She nodded.

Christine, I need you to stay calm. The last thing he needed right now was for her to break down or to faint. She only fainted once and it wasn't easy to decide whether being threatened than figuring out that her Angel had precisely detailed plans about their wedding before they even met was worse.

"Don't be noisy," he added finally.

"I never am," she answered; the words came out mechanically.

"Yes, you are."

Her eyes snapped up to his with protest, but then she muttered embarrassedly, "You've never complained before," when the meaning of his words dawned on her, and he noted with satisfaction how color returned to her cheeks. Good.

"Nor do I now. I happen to quite enjoy it, you know," he said, then lifting himself up on the window frame he easily climbed out and hopped to the ground without a sound. It had been so long since he had done this the last time; the tingling anticipation was familiar and unaccustomed at the same time.

Observe.

Focus.

Take control.

Memories returned in an instant and this time they didn't hurt that much. For a fleeting moment he could convince himself that they were even necessary to be able to save Christine now.

Her face appeared in the window and it was plainly obvious how terrified she felt. "Erik, they're coming closer!"

"Of course they are. Don't care about that. Turn off the light then step on the bed and give me your arm when you lean out."

Immediately it became dark in the small room and she reappeared in the window, illuminated only by the faint moonlight. In that second he grabbed her arm and caught her waist before lowering her to the ground. It wasn't an easy task with such a dress she wore.

"Your dress has to go," he muttered under his breath as he crouched on the ground and motioned for her to do the same.

"But I love this dress," she protested in a voiceless whisper.

"Can you climb or run in it?"

"No, but…"

"Your dress has to go. And be silent."

She obeyed, too afraid to even draw a loud breath and her fingers cut into the material of her skirts as she gripped her knees in the hope that they would stop shaking. He covered her hand with his and she looked at him gratefully. Light flooded their section in a minute.

"This one is empty," said a dissatisfied voice and for a moment, the room became brighter; he must have stepped in.

"Are you sure?" Another voice asked from somewhere afar.

"No one's here," the first man answered and the light disappeared.

For minutes they stayed unmoving outside of the train, waiting for the men's possible reappearance. They didn't come back. It was Erik who shifted first, swiftly and silently creeping up into the car again and then helped her in. Her dress kept sticking in every possible angle; when she finally landed in his arms her petticoats followed her like huge wings. Her attire obviously wasn't designed for such activities, Christine concluded mournfully.

Erik went to the door without a word, his back blocking his ministrations, then turned back to his wife.

"I go look around. Stay here." When he saw the terror forming on her face, he added, "I closed the door but it's not likely they would want to come in after such a short time. I'll be back very soon."

"I'd rather go with you," she managed to whisper, casting a thoughtless glance at the closed door.

"Do you know where we are?"

"No."

"Do you know how to leave this place?"

"No," she repeated resignedly.

"Or have any idea how many of them are lurking around outside?"

"No."

"Run or move as fast as you can?"

"No."

"You stay here."

He stepped to the window again with the intention of leaving but he came back with an afterthought.

"Keep this," he handed her the white, leather mask. The corner of her mouth twitched and her eyes became glossy in an instant. She reached for the small object with trembling fingers.

"Not as a keepsake," he explained tenderly. "It glows in the darkness."

The mask was hastily tucked away in their satchel.

"I'll be back soon," he said to reassure her but when it became obvious that it wouldn't work, he gave her a firm kiss to the lips and left.

Wind was chilly against his exposed skin and it carried the smoky scent of fire. At least it was dark enough for him to remain unseen. He pulled himself up to the top of the carriage effortlessly and crawled forward on his stomach. People were passing in and out of the cars, carrying stuffed bags with them and they met by the fire just outside of the nearby forest. Angry voices blended with the soft sounds of the night – they were arguing about how to share their prey. How typical. But as long as they're here, Christine was safe inside.

But she's alone.

As comforting as it would be to know her with him, the safest place for her was now the inside of their section. But he'd better be hurry.

The fire illuminated the figures around it; he could make out for about thirty of them but they surely had left guards at the end of the cars. So there were at least forty of them. Leaving in secrecy was the only option, obviously, because if they would be discovered, their departure could easily end up in very violent events and Christine was rather determined to keep him away from murder. Why was she concerned about the miserable lives of criminals he had no idea.

Well… she married one of the likes of them, after all.

Why didn't they left already? They got what they wanted, why not leaving as soon as possible? It's true that several hours would pass before the authorities could find out that a train is missing but staying on the crime's scene was the most foolish and dangerous thing one could do. Everyone knew that.

Erik pulled back from the edge of the car. He should take care of his business as long as they were engrossed in sharing the money and jewels. Even if it wasn't really likely that they would harm the passengers he couldn't get rid of the image of Christine staying all alone in their section. He'd better hurry. Casting one last glance at the peacefully arguing burglars he slid from the roof then climbed off of the train and jumped to the ground. Darkness swallowed him and in the next moment he was nothing but a piece of the night that was surrounding him.

Something must have kept them there. Or they were merely foolish. For a moment he hoped that they weren't that ignorant for if it was so, he committed a fatal mistake when he insisted upon that Christine would stay still. She's fine. No, they must have known what they were doing; he just didn't know it yet. Following the railways he fastened his steps, finally ending up in frantic running.

Probably they knew there wouldn't be another train in the same direction for if there was, they would betray themselves easily with the still one on the open railroad.

He bent a sprig from his way out and resumed running.

Though the carriages were now perfectly hidden within the trees… It was a perfect idea if one would want to wait for a long time. What were they waiting for?

At a point, the forest became sparse then he reached a small, clear area. Even in the dark it was obvious that it was some kind of center; there were several switches in the rails. Somewhere in front of him he saw faint light, waving and dancing – it was fire. A small station, maybe.

For a moment, he stood still. Wind blew his hair into his face and whipped his cape around him while ha was staring at the switches.

What are they waiting for?

Somewhere an owl hooted and Erik looked around distractedly. There must be an orchestra somewhere. Then it was silent again. He looked at the other direction but there was nothing there, not even the faint light of a station.

Think.

She's alone.

Think.

In the next moment he was already on his way back to the train. As he reached the edge of the forest he stopped abruptly; two men were approaching.

"I told you to choose one with full of wealthy passengers!"

"It is," the other man argued but the first cut him off.

"And the empty section?"

"No one was there. I looked around two times."

"Seemingly it wasn't enough!" The first man shouted again, showing up a shriveled paper as they walked away.

Erik hurried back to Christine alarmed.

"Thank God you're here; I've been so worried," Christine greeted him as he entered the car again through the window. It was irksome to use such an entrance again and again, besides that it was quite ridiculous. Not if anyone witnessed it, though.

"We're leaving," he said hurriedly and picked up the satchel from under the bed. "Did they try to come in?"

"No."

"Did anything unusual happen?"

"Besides being trapped in a train? No," she answered while he opened the previously closed door and looked around. Nothing. The corridor was silent except the low murmured words seeping through the doors but noting more. It was dark, too; the only light came from the one or two sections where lights were left burning. It won't be this peaceful in two minutes. If only he had a clue from which direction should he expect them!

"We have to move as silently as possible. Can you do that?" He asked her in a low tone; she tried to feign bravery but her eyes betrayed her.

"Yes," she nodded firmly but he knew she was terrified.

"I'll be right behind you. No one would harm you but you have to be silent," he assured her and looked out to the corridor. Still empty.

"This way," he decided suddenly on an instinct, ushering her to the right and followed her close behind after closing the door.

"I swear it wasn't empty an hour ago!" Came a pleading voice from behind; its owner obviously wasn't alone. Erik hurried their steps to reach the end of the carriage before they could be seen from the other end.

"It is now." Someone tossed the terrified porter forward. "Go and find them."

Erik pushed Christine through the door to the next carriage and led her by the arm to the first section's door he found open.

"What is it?" She wheezed, too afraid to talk just a bid louder.

"They've found the passenger's list," he explained shortly as he tore open the door and pushed her in. Christine tumbled into the section inelegantly and he followed her short behind, closing the door quietly.

"You… you're one of them," he heard the frightened gasp of an elderly woman, and when he turned again, he saw that her face was deathly white. The mask…

"Yes," he hissed and suddenly yanked Christine back, holding her as if to defend himself with her body. Despite their apparently desperate state Christine still had to stifle a smile forming on her lips. He knew exactly how to touch her without hurting while feigning that he did. "And if you won't keep being silent I take you with me as well."

It was one of the most foolish things to say; who could escape with two women as their hostage? But this obviously never occurred to the woman for she staggered backwards until her legs hit the edge of the bed and she flopped down helplessly.

"You have to get out of that dress," Erik told Christine while releasing her from his grasp, and saw how the woman's eyes widened at his words. At least she was silent. "You can't travel in that. Here," he handed her their little satchel with his clothes in it. "Put on something of these."

Christine lifted her eyes to protest; his clothes were hardly the most suitable attire for her.

"Do you have a husband?" Erik asked casually the owner of the section but she shook her head in denial. "Son?" She signaled no again.

"You have to do with these," he turned back to Christine apologetically.

Being an actress taught Christine many things but to undress in front of a complete stranger was not one of them. True, she'd done so between scenes in the opera house every night but those were her co-workers, and this woman just wasn't.

"You should hurry," he urged her while pulling out a shirt and trousers and finally, she complied. Their escape depended on this and it wasn't likely she'd meet this woman again anyway. After she get rid of her dress she began to fumble with the laces of her corset; it was obvious she wouldn't be able to undo them alone. With a huff, she turned her back to his husband.

"I told you not to wear that damned thing," he growled while he unlaced her swiftly. He was a professional in that.

"And I told you that I had to wear it when I'm going out. Not wearing it would be as if you go out without…" Her words dissolved into the air - it came back her too late that he wasn't wearing the mask right now. By that time he was finished with her corset and she turned around in her chemise, remorse evident in her eyes – his face was expressionless as he handed her his clothes to put on but his eyes told her, "Not now."

Quickly she pulled on her – his – new attire, completing it with one of his coats, and she rolled back her sleeves until he rolled up the legs of the trousers. Finally she draped her black cape around herself - now she was the female replica of her husband.

"Not even a word," Erik warned the terrified woman one last time before he and Christine disappeared through the window. By the end of the night he would be an expert on window-climbing.

Meanwhile the woman stared after them in disbelief. Victims are not the same anymore.

- o -

Christine was caught by Erik's arms when they landed outside, and he led her to the trees immediately. As soon as they were safely hidden in the forest, loud noises invaded the pleasant sounds of the night: the thieves apparently broke into every single room, demanding from the passengers to give the two of them away. When Christine heard the indignant protest of one of the men and then the shriek of a woman she shuddered.

"Erik, they'll kill the passengers," she whispered, her voice cracking from the thought.

"They won't," came his calm reply.

"How do you know that? They're… unrelenting."

"Because it would be messy. And if they'd kill only one of them, some fool would try to save all the other hostages. They don't have time for such games. They're waiting."

Christine looked at him surprised. "Have you found something?"

"Not much. There are several switches not so far away in this direction."

"And?"

"There's also some little cottage, maybe a small station there. The last city we left was quite a large one…"

"Aren't we close to the Russian border?"

"We are. That's what I thought too," he added when he saw realization dawning on her.

"They would never be found if they catch that train."

"No," he agreed while regarding the events in the train. People really are fools. Why was it so wrong for a woman to have the knowledge of a man? Wasn't it better to have a composed wife like Christine than having to deal with a helpless, screaming one like the ones in the carriages? Inexplicable.

"It's more likely to find a train back to Paris if we return to the city but then we have to round the train and they've encamped in the other side," he explained finally.

"But you can take us there, can't you?" Christine asked, slightly brushing his body while lifting herself to take a look at the now calming train. The cracks and shouts started to subside as well.

Her husband gave her a rather incredulous look. "Of course I can…" He began but then the sound of a gunshot ended the pretended peace of the forest. Christine shuddered; even Erik was startled for a moment. Not exactly half a moment later she was deposited on the ground on her stomach; Erik followed her immediately.

"You said they wouldn't…" Christine started and Erik pulled her closer, sheltering her with his body.

"They weren't supposed to," he answered.

Another gunshot.

Clatter of hooves.

A lot of them.

In a minute, he caught a glimpse through the bushes of the newly arrived strangers – gendarmes. Another moment later Christine saw them, too.

"How did they get here so soon?" She asked, twisted fascination welling up in her. As long as they stayed out of danger it was quite thrilling, but they were persistently coming closer.

"Maybe the next station called them by telegraph when the train didn't pass next to it."

"You said it was a small station."

"They called a larger city. Or one of the thieves gave away the plan earlier to the authorities."

Suddenly a woman appeared in one of the doors, and without looking back she started to run towards the forest – in the very same direction that they were hiding. A man showed up in the same door and shoot after the woman – she screamed but kept running and Christine let out a sigh of relief when she found that the woman was unharmed. One of the gendarmes managed to get around the train and immediately darted after the mugger, who meanwhile caught up with the fugitive – dangerously close to where Christine was trembling beneath her husband. One more step forward and they would be discovered, too.

The scum became quite savage, and when another mugger appeared in the doorway, Erik yanked his wife up and led her deeper in the trees. The thief launched after them.

He knew he had waited too long. Would it have been safer to leave earlier? He decided that most probably not, considering how many others were after them already.

A shot bored into a sprig right next to them and he pulled Christine closer and pushed her in front of him. They reached a small clearing with three tracks on the other side of it – with a jump he quickly vanished with her on the outermost. Most likely their follower would choose one of the other ones.

Indeed, after a few minutes, when he stopped to listen, there was no sound around them and he pulled his wife close while resting against the trunk of the closest tree.

From her silence he thought that Christine was deep in thought or waiting for something. First he just felt her grasp tightening on his arms, then the light tremors; and if he still had any doubt what was happening to her, her almost inaudible sniffle convinced him that she was indeed crying.

"Erik, I'm scared," she confessed finally, feeling dumb and not at all better than those inert, pathetic women he often said that she surpassed every day. In that moment, sadly, Christine felt that she was one of them.

"Don't be. You know that I'd die first than to let you get hurt," he said, but in reply a broken sob was torn from her throat.

"You're not helping," she growled, angrily wiping away another errant tear.

"They won't kill me, Christine. They can't. Fiftysomething gendarmes weren't able to catch me in a closed opera house; do you think I can't escape in a forest?"

"I've never had to deal with something like this. I'm supposed help you, not slow you down," she argued, drying the remnants of her tears with the sleeve of her – his – jacket.

"You make it easier, actually," he said gently, content that the tears disappeared from her face.

"How?" She asked, her voice slightly wavering, but she already managed to compose herself. He will protect both of us. He always does.

"You've given me a reason to fight for."

The small hand on his chest curled into his clothes as she was looking up at him; there were no more tears, no vows of her undying love but that look only – yet it told him so much more than words ever could. He wanted to kiss her in gratitude.

"We should go," he said reluctantly, and she placed her hand into his, obediently following him wherever he led them.

For long moments, they marched forward deeper into the trees; the sounds of the fight by the train were still present, however muffled, and not long after they were on the path that led to their destination. Moonlight didn't seep through the leaves of the trees; it was only his trained sight that helped them forward. Christine refused to let go of his hand – it not just kept her balance but convinced her constantly about his ability to get her out to someplace safe. One or two times she even felt his reassuring squeeze on her fingers and she wished she could give him the same confident feeling that he had given her.

There was a short cracking sound in front of them and Erik stopped abruptly. He couldn't possible round us. Yet the cracking repeated and Erik remained unmoving, waiting for the final clue that gave away their follower's whereabouts.

When nothing happened for minutes, Erik warily took a few steps forward.

The crackling repeated then increased and Erik stopped again to listen. Christine's hand was shaking in his grasp. Though they couldn't be seen right now, if they tried to take a step backwards, the strangers would now it in an instant, and as incredible it sounded, the safest choice was to stay still.

"Where are you going? The gendarmes already arrived," said a harsh voice not so far from them.

"Did they?" Another voice retorted and something crunched. One of them must have taken a step.

"You left long before them," the first man spoke again and Christine heard only parts of the following conversation. Distant voices argued, then pleaded… she dared not to move in fear that they might be discovered as well.

All the while Erik stood still next to her. So one of the voices before them gave away the plan to the authorities, just as he suspected; now there was little chance that both of the unknown men would leave alive. Unfortunately, it was too late to leave: if they made even the slightest noise, their presence wouldn't go unnoticed anymore. What was worse, that most probably they have to wait through a murder and he didn't want for Christine to endure that. Of course, he could prevent it by killing both criminals, but that wouldn't make much difference in defending Christine's feelings.

There was nothing to do but wait.

It didn't take long for the first voice to silence the other – it must have been a knife, Erik thought, and fingered his own dagger on his belt. The thick scrub prevented him from seeing the scene perfectly but unfortunately, however it would betray their presence, they needed to leave. Immediately, in fact.

Still holding Christine's shaking hand Erik took a step aside and listened.

The murderer disappeared but now someone was next to them.

A painful moan came from somewhere near and something heavy hit the ground. Christine shuddered. There wasn't only one man before them – or rather now it was only one man before them. Not much better, Erik thought.

Grass crumpled again, from a closer distance this time, causing adrenaline to flood his veins and he swallowed.

The sound ceased.

Christine did a very good job to conceal her fright and yet Erik still heard the soft sound of her breathing.

Something crunched in front of them.

It was obvious that the unknown murderer couldn't move so fast. Either of the crouching noises was faked…

Suddenly Christine's sharp gasp for air broke the unnerving silence and Erik felt her fingers slip from his grasp against his and her will. It was the most frightening feeling he ever experienced – his love taken away by a stranger. It was maddening, too, and he whirled around, dagger already in hand. Whoever that man was, he would die.

Even in her apparently desperate state Christine found herself wondering how Erik could pull out the knife so fast, so swiftly. He has just enough experience, she thought and fought down a shiver. As her husband turned around, she felt her captor shudder and – if it was possible – she was even more disgusted with him because of his reaction to her husband's bare face.

"Drop the knife!" The man behind her commanded but to her relief, Erik didn't move.

"Drop your knife, freak!" The man repeated but Erik's face remained emotionless. Except that barely visible twitch around his eyes, that only Christine saw that was present; she was well accustomed to that quiver to notice it on his face. Suddenly she wished she would have an own dagger and… She shuddered from the thought before it could unfold in her mind.

"Let her go." The forced calmness of her husband's voice froze her blood, and her quivering abruptly transformed into violent shaking when her captor pulled out a blade and pressed it to her throat. She tried to swallow but was unable to; air came into her lungs in short breaths.

"Drop the knife or I'll kill her!" The man shouted, apparently angered by her husband's cold demeanor, who she was looking at with sheer terror.

Erik, I don't want to die!

She measured her chances to get away unharmed – for a twisted moment she wished Erik would accept the demand and throw that damned dagger away; but in the next moment she realized how purposeless it could have been. They've seen him killing that other man – or rather Erik saw it and she hid her face in his shoulder. Most certainly this man wouldn't leave witnesses.

She looked up pleadingly to her husband's eyes; his countenance was unmoving. She'd seen that expression before, she knew what that look meant… Yet, it was even more frightening now than it was when he attempted to kill Raoul; this unyielding, merciless rage was a lot worse – there was no offer this time to avoid its target.

She didn't care.

Anything just to get rid of this awful, cold feeling of the blade on her neck and the arms of this monster around her body.

"Drop your knife or I'll cut her throat!" The man demanded, jerking her head back, emphasizing what was already clear to every one of them. She dared not to breathe anymore.

Erik's dagger lodged into the ground with a soft swish.

What are you doing?

Christine, trust me.

In the next moment she heard a whizz in her ear and she was yanked out roughly from her captors arms – it was Erik, not wanting her to feel the struggle of a dying man for his pathetic life.

Christine stumbled aside, hardly able to stay on her feet, and she managed to brace herself on the trunk of a tree, wheezing. She dared not to look up, not even when she heard the muffled sounds of the fight only feets in front of her. Her head was spinning and she felt ill. She'd been almost killed… for nothing.

The sounds were soon subsided but it still wasn't enough for her to gain enough courage to look up. Something heavy was dragged away and everything fell silent.

When she ventured to raise her eyes, Erik was standing in front of her, visibly shaking, but the body was nowhere to be seen. She tried to take deep and even breaths.

It was obvious that only her hands were supporting her frame amidst her violent shaking but it wasn't the worst; even if there were no tears, she wasn't screaming at him, nor did she ran away – it was that utter disbelief in her eyes that unnerved him. She didn't move for long moments and he had to steel his nerves not to fell on his knees in front of her.

She saw it.

True, she knew that it wasn't the first time he killed but now it happened right in front of her eyes. He prayed for her tears or to see her protest against being with him, just to chase that terrible, prolonged waiting. To be sure in her reaction.

For moments, she didn't move. When she let go of the tree she wasn't sure she wouldn't fall, and after taking a tentative step towards him she collapsed into his arms, keeping herself upright by gripping fistfuls of his clothes and to her relief, his arms went around her frame to support her. A tearless sob tore from her throat at the comforting feeling of his body next to hers, his strong arms enveloping her in their shelter and she wished for to be swallowed by that feeling.

He saved her.

His ragged, shallow breathing ruffled the hair on top of her head and she couldn't remember a more reassuring sensation.

He's here.

His heart beat frantically but when she tightened her grasp in him, it eventually calmed a little.

"Are you all right?" She asked, her voice rasp and muffled by his coat.

"I'm fine," he answered, his own voice tense and uneven. "Are you hurt?"

She shuddered and pressed herself even more tightly to him. "No."

For another long moment they stayed in that firm embrace. The night was silent, only the soft sound of the leaves in the wind could be heard and the occasional sound of crickets. I want to go home, he thought, but the pleasant cracking of the fire as he spent the evening in his wife's presence with music was so far away that he wasn't sure it ever happened. Her body was now quivering in his arms, after she'd witnessed… It shouldn't matter for her! She promised – no, she vowed! – she would never leave him! Why didn't she already say anything, then?

Finally, when her silence became unbearable, he spoke. "Christine, we should go."

A weak nod against his chest was all her answer, but when he started to drew back, she whispered, "Erik, I don't want to see it."

"You won't," he assured her and she pulled back reluctantly. Their hands met in halfway as they started to walk away.

It was as if there were shadows moving after them, but when Christine turned around, no one was ever there. She clung to his hand, gripping it tightly in her palm as she walked slightly behind him, trying to concentrate on nothing else but their entwined fingers and not tripping on anything on the ground. He glanced back above his shoulder in every passing minute, stopping in their walk a couple of times, listening to the sounds of the darkness.

The occasional sounds of gunshots became more and more silent, and soon she couldn't hear them at all. Had the gendarmes not appeared earlier she'd be concerned about the rest of the passengers, but knowing that they were there to protect them, she was a little calmer. Especially that Erik didn't seem to hear any unfamiliar crunch near them.

But he didn't say a word, either.

Eventually the forest began to clear, and the lights of a larger city appeared on the horizon. But before they left for the city, he stopped and pulled her to a tree.

"Rest for a while before we go further." His voice was meant to sound emotionless but she still heard the forced edge of it. Warily, she lowered herself to the ground while he remained standing beside her.

"Won't you sit down?" She asked when he showed no intention to join her.

At her words, he sat down as well, drawing his hands across his face and then his hair. Christine caught a glimpse of something dark, dried liquid on the back of his hand and reached into the pocket of her coat to pull out a handkerchief, but when she attempted to wipe the blood away, he roughly yanked his arm back.

"Leave it," he growled, well aware of her intention as well as the reason of it. He wasn't quick enough to take the knife from that bastard and this was a well-deserved punishment for that.

She jerked her husband's wrist back and wiped the blood from his wound by force, then wrapped it up with the same handkerchief.

The years she'd spent as Erik's wife taught her many things, like that he didn't take responsibility for many mistakes that was his doing, but sometimes he took responsibility for events that weren't his fault, and in those cases he tend to punish himself in unreasonable ways. Like now, for example.

"Stop thinking that way," she addressed him; he kept sitting hunched over, his shoulders rising and falling with his deep breaths.

"What way?" He asked, not bothering to look at her. She placed his injured hand softly to his thigh, resting her hand atop of his.

"You know… maybe I should say now that I despise every kind of murder…" She felt him twitch under her hand but she didn't allow him to pull away from her. "But I won't." She heard him exhale soundly but Christine couldn't decide what that meant.

"Christine, stop this," he said hoarsely, examining the ground in front of him with blind eyes.

"You know that I won't run away from you, don't you?" She continued; he hitched his hand back.

"Stop talking," he commanded and Christine fell silent beside him. She expected him to leap to his feet and storm away, but he remained on his seat, breathing heavily. She listened to it for minutes, waiting in vain for him to speak, but she could only witness how he pounded a fist into the trunk of the tree; the crash of bones and joints sent a shiver down her spine.

He cursed aloud, swearing fate, life, swearing everything without caring the she had heard him, or that she cared or not. He pulled back his arm, holding his hand with his other.

"Have you broken it?" She asked simply when his outburst ended, watching how he tested his hand by curling and stretching his fingers slowly.

"No," he hissed, applying a tentative press on the back of his hand. "I think I haven't."

Giving a deep sigh, she looked up into his eyes but he turned his gaze away from her and leaned over again, his shoulders hanging with defeat.

"You shouldn't have seen it," he said gravely at last, still not looking at her.

"I haven't," she answered in a similar tone. "I couldn't bring myself to."

He closed his eyes as if it pained him greatly, then opened them again, looking up at her as if he was to be executed. "Christine, I've tried so hard to be worthy," he breathed, his voice breaking with the last syllable.

"I know," she answered softly, restraining herself from reaching for his hand.

"I haven't done it since that night," he continued. "And I wouldn't have if…"

"I know," she repeated. "You know… I don't blame you." He turned to her, doubt already present in his eyes, and she continued. "I prefer to be alive very much."

"You've been so very determined to keep me from taking others life before," he half-snapped, half pleaded with her; the situation was almost as fragile as their relationship in the very beginning, he thought. Almost, because it was as if she was trying to help him. He never dared to hope she could come to this.

"Yes. But I don't want to die, Erik." She stopped when the memory of feeling the blade on her throat rushed back again and she shuddered. "And if there is only one way to avoid it…" When his head snapped up to hers, she felt more exposed than ever before. "I'm afraid I'm not as pure as you think me to be."

First time during the conversation he reached for her, cupping her face with his bandaged hand into his palm; his shallow breath hit her cheeks evenly. "Please don't consider it as our fault," she implored before his lips sought out hers and she covered his hand while returning the brush of his lips against her own. Drops of something rolled down her face that were not from her eyes, but soon her tears joined his as well.

His lips were the same, his hand on her face felt the same; nothing changed – yet the disturbing memory of those horrible moments was stubbornly graved into her mind. She didn't blame him, though, not even for a moment. Maybe she was crying over the unfortunate turn of events but the cause was definitely not her disappointment in her husband.

"Let's just forget about it," she offered uncertainly when they broke apart and he nodded solemnly, turning slightly to wipe the tears from his face. Indeed, it was for the better.

"We should go to catch a train back to Paris before dawn," he said, his voice slightly rasp, but already composed enough to seem confident in his manners. He stood before her and extended an arm to help her up; she took it without hesitation and he released a breath he wasn't aware he was holding.

"I'm hardly presentable in such an outfit," she said as if to agree with his statement and she gave him a faint smile, gesturing to his clothes that she was wearing.

"At nights they're too tired to care," he explained before entwining their fingers again and he pressed a reverent kiss to the back of her hand – right onto her ring, she realized. It was only fair if she returned the gesture, which she did gratefully in the next moment.

"Soon we would be home," Erik offered and Christine followed him, clinging to her husband all along their walk to the station.

- o -

Fräulein Schäfer, ticket seller of the train station spent her day with thinking about why on Earth did that obviously homeless woman bought her uniform before day shift.

And how did she possess one thousand marks to pay for it.