SORRY. I know it's been a while since I updated but please do enjoy this little Christmas miracle of a chapter.

I do hope I'll be able to update before 2021, but if I don't, I wish you all a very happy new year. Let's face it, it can't get any worse than 2020, right? Well maybe for Erik and Christine...


"Hello, Erik," he said pleasantly. "Aren't you pleased to see me again?"

The man smiled at him benevolently; as if he was greeting an old colleague he hadn't seen in years. Meanwhile, Erik's eyes could have burned a hole through him with their intensity.

"Goldfinch?" his voice was a low hiss of warning. The man, utterly unruffled, responded with a genial nod.

While Goldfinch's relaxed posture was no act, Erik fought to remain calm. His mind ran through all the possible dangers, options and outcomes of their meeting, as his eyes scanned his surroundings ravenously. The air was still and, although Erik's senses were not as heightened as they had been in Paris, he could sense that the three of them were alone in their wooded alcove. The realisation made Erik wonder; Goldfinch knew how dangerous he could be - in fact, if Christine had not been with him, he was certain that his years of endless hostility and aggression would have resulted in instantaneous death for the man before him – so why had he apparently come alone?

Erik second guessed himself, and couldn't help but look around the area again with mistrust. Even with Erik's acute eyesight, he needed to be sure, it was difficult to tell too much in the semi-darkness.

"I am alone, Erik," Goldfinch stated calmly as he watched the man's eyes rove about him, but not without a slightly sharper "for now."

The tension drained a little from Erik's body as his eyes shot back to him. He had been so shocked by the appearance of the spy that he had almost forgotten the girl beside him whose fingers now gripped onto his jacket as if afraid of him floating away. He looked down at her and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, taking the opportunity to stand a little closer, blocking her body with his own, before turning his attention back to Goldfinch; "How did you find me?"

"You're clever, Erik," he said consolingly, "But we are too…This must be Christine?" The man smiled at her kindly, regardless, Erik moved again to shield her even further from view. "Some of our informants mentioned the existence of a 'Mrs Stratera'. Your father was particularly interested in what had happened to her…"

Erik's hands clenched of their own accord at the mention of the former ruler. Goldfinch watched his shoulders rise up with rage, knowing that any other man would have withered under the look Erik was giving him. Goldfinch found it unnerving to say the least, and now a little doubtful of his own instincts, moved his hand slowly backwards closer to the pistol flat against his back. He stopped however when she saw the young girl beside Erik place as hand on his arm. The burning look in Erik's eyes dissipated as they focused on her for a brief moment, before they returned to him, cool and collected once more.

"You were ingenious to hide yourself for so long, Erik, but people talk. They always do."

"Then let us talk," Erik stated. "Alone."

He looked back at Christine and indicated to the house. She stared up at him defiantly and shook her head.

Goldfinch frowned, a little confused by the nature of the relationship and quite shocked at the girl's non-compliance. If he were in her position, he would find it difficult not to acquiesce to every one of Erik's requests. And yet, it almost seemed as if she were the one in charge.

"Why alone? I'd be very interested to hear Miss Christine's side of the story –"

"Mrs."

The word had been ground out, and caused both Christine and Goldfinch to look at Erik sharply.

"Apologies," Goldfinch said with a quirk of his brow. "I meant no offence."

Christine continued to look at Erik with a half-smile. If Erik noticed he didn't acknowledge it, but stared angrily at Goldfinch.

"Christine has nothing to do with our business," Erik said in a defiant tone. He then took the opportunity to pull her even further behind him, his stance protective and possessive. "She never has. Let her go back to the cabin and we can discuss whatever it is you want-"

"Erik!" the girl hissed in dismay and she clutched onto his arm tightly again, "I'm not going anywhere!"

The dangerous look Erik gave her was enough to stop whatever else she said next. "Go back to the cabin," his voice was low and still soft, but it was no less of a command, "where it is safe."

Her brow twitched rebelliously. "So you can give yourself up?" she bit back with anger. "I won't let you."

The stared at each other for a moment, neither one of them prepared to budge, until Goldfinch interposed himself.

"Perhaps I might allay some of your fears?" Goldfinch asked, his eyes darting between the couple with a frown. "Christine, I work for the British Government and have been overseeing Stratera's arrest and maintaining France's security throughout the transition period."

"Is he telling the truth?" she whispered so only Erik could hear. He nodded imperceptibly.

"I don't care about any of that anymore. What do you want?" she rebutted haughtily. Any courtesy she would normally have shown dissipated; all she wanted to know was that Erik wasn't in danger. She heard Erik laugh softly at her lack of civility.

It was true. She didn't care. She didn't want to hear any more about France or Stratera. She wanted to be free of him. They both did.

"Your husband had me followed for months with the aim of killing me. In the end, he saved my life," Goldfinch continued. "In recompense I'm here to offer Erik a deal, if he'll listen to me."

"Don't pretend you don't have the upper hand here, Goldfinch. What if I should refuse?" Erik spoke up. "Are you going to arrest me like the rest of his zealots?"

Goldfinch smiled wryly. "I doubt there is a prison strong enough to hold you, Erik. From some of the stories I've been hearing, you can walk through walls, unlock any door, solve any problem. You are meant to be dead and yet here you stand. You're a ghost."

Something clicked and Erik eyed him cautiously; "You need me for something."

Goldfinch paused a moment and then eyes landed on Christine. The girl was staring straight at him with worried expression. "Perhaps you are right in thinking Christine might want to head back somewhere warmer?"

"Men's business, I suppose?" she asked a little testily, her glare hovering between the two before settling on Erik. "I'm not going anywhere." Goldfinch swore he heard the other man sigh.

Erik gazed down at the woman beside him. To an outsider his eyes would be unreadable, but in the semi-darkness, Christine could see they stared at her beseechingly; "Please go back to the cabin," he said gently, before adding softly and only for her benefit, "I'll come back. I promise."

Something gave and Goldfinch saw her accept his request unenthusiastically.

"You had better," she mumbled back despondently. She folded her arms and, feeling utterly helpless, turned and retreated back to the safety of their temporary home. Erik's eyes followed her, watching her go, the heightened rise and fall of his chest the only show of emotion he gave. He did not turn back to the other man until they were alone, and waited patiently to hear what offer he had to make.

"There's been a problematic development," Goldfinch began, "one which we are certain only you can help us with."

If the man could have seen past Erik's mask, he would have seen his brow quirk with interest.

"I'm listening," Erik prompted.

Goldfinch had wasted enough time making sure Erik wouldn't react badly to his appearance. There was no time left to delay. "There is a weapon of mass destruction underneath Paris."

Erik made no movement of recognition at the statement.

"You may have heard Stratera refer to it before? The Grasshopper, or so he called it?"

Erik nodded, "All the information relating to it was disclosed to you when I gave you access to the secret service."

"Most, but not all," Goldfinch agreed. "We believe we know where it is hidden. But it is…difficult."

"It is hidden under the Invalides," Erik said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Goldfinch countered, "That is what we thought. But we have searched it entirely and there is no sign of it."

Erik frowned to himself. He was certain that the weapon had been there. Stratera had referred to it several times; it was his bargaining chip should things become desperate. If he couldn't keep Paris, no one would.

"And Stratera will not co-operate?"

Goldfinch shook his head, "As far as the old bastard is concerned the sooner it is detonated the better. What does he care? He knows he's for the gallows eventually."

"It was his insurance policy," Erik muttered darkly, "Now he wants to go out with a bang."

"This isn't a frivolous matter, Erik," Goldfinch replied harshly, "Millions of lives are at stake."

"You said 'as soon as it is detonated'. If he knows what has become of it then what is he waiting for?" Erik asked, his mind turning over the problem in his head. "Who does he have on the outside who is still working for him?"

"We're not so sure that he knows that himself…" Goldfinch replied with consternation, "Stratera, although imprisoned, is still dangerous. We have done the best we can to round up his most avid followers but some of them have slipped through the net."

There was something in Goldfinch's tone that became more tense, his eyes were boring into Erik's with a meaningful look. "Whoever the individual is, if they gave themselves up, they would be assured that any collaborators were treated fairly. Christine and Nadir would be allowed to live out the rest of their days in relative freedom-"

Erik looked at him sharply and barked with laughter, "You think it's me?"

Goldfinch didn't say anything in response.

Erik laughed again; a cruel, dark sound, "I destroy my father's rule, offer up every bit of information to you and still you believe me to be at his aid? Or do you think that I was hoping to replace him? I thought it rather obvious that this face is not one for the public stage!"

Goldfinch blinked and looked at his shoes with frustration. He clearly had his doubts that Erik would have been involved and now knew them to be correct.

"So, you need me to find the location? This place which your excellent secret service cannot fathom? You want me to go back to Paris and risk my neck for it?"

"You could refuse if you wish," Goldfinch said thoughtfully. "But we do know your location, and that of your companions. You could kill me and run. But what then, Erik? Are you happy to live underground? Forcing her to hide with you? She didn't enjoy it before, did she? I doubt she'll enjoys it again."

Erik's eyes flashed at the veiled mention of Christine and her history. It was the second time in their talk where Goldfinch had genuinely worried for his life.

"You will leave her out of this," Erik replied. His tone was dark and full of warning.

"Yes, I will," Goldfinch agreed a little less confidently, but not without a caveat; "As long as you agree to help us."

Erik let out a long exhale of breath.

"You know where it is, don't you?" Goldfinch asked, watching him intently.

"It's rather obvious, given what you've already told me," Erik replied tartly.

"You built it, Erik," the other man responded, "You're the only one who knows the way through that fiendish place. I've already lost five men -"

He stopped as Erik turned his back to him and stared back at the cabin. His shoulders slumped in resignation.

"Erik, we don't have much time-"

"I'll do it," the velvet voice floated back to him and Goldfinch gave a small sigh of relief. "But I promised her I'd come back," Erik continued in a tone that brooked no arguments. "You will let me say goodbye."

Without waiting for permission, Erik strode back to the house. His steps becoming heavier the closer they came to the back door. He saw her worried face glance through his bedroom window as he passed – it had the best view over the river and down to the woods – and he sighed once more.

As he entered the kitchen, he found Christine and Nadir waiting for him expectantly. Christine bolted to him, unanswered questions floating in her eyes and grasped his hands in her own. She was very pale.

"What is happening?" she breathed.

Erik rubbed her fingers with his own, noticing how warm they were and taking solace in them for a few seconds. He stared into her eyes for a moment, enough to make him question what he was about to do.

Nadir coughed gently, bringing them both back to reality. Erik had almost forgotten the other man was there.

He barely glanced at him as he said; "Would you give us a moment please, Nadir?"

Nadir's eyes flickered between the two, Erik dared him to refuse, but the man thought better of it, and shuffled off defeated.

"Erik?" Christine asked with urgency, her hands gripping his tighter and making his eyes fly back to hers. "What does he want?"

"He's asked me to go back to Paris. They need me to help with a project. If I agree, you and Nadir will be pardoned."

Christine swallowed. "Agree to what? What do they want you to do?"

Erik wanted to lie to her, but he felt something tug deep inside of him at the thought. He just couldn't do it. She clearly saw the conflict in his eyes and her own eyes began to swim with tears. She felt panic wring her insides and she wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged his face closer to her own.

"You don't need to go with him," Christine said. Her tone was on the verge of begging. But his angel did not belong in heaven yet. He'd been sure he'd never be able to give her up again, and now, with this momentous danger hanging over his head, the numbing threat of his own death, he knew without a doubt that he could do it once more.

He closed his eyes and his masked forehead gently met her own. He sighed and relaxed a little.

"Tell me not to…and I won't," his voice was small and his breath was warm against her lips. His fingers found their way into her hair and massaged her head as if it was that easy to sooth away her concern. "Say it, Christine."

Erik never showed fear. Even on their most awful night, when Erik had been bleeding out in front of her, telling her to leave him, he hadn't been afraid. And now, for the first time, Christine saw that he was scared. His hands hadn't trembled as they held her own, but now she could feel them quivering as they stroked through her hair.

She fought back the tears in her eyes. They'd come so far. She knew him so well, loved him so well now. "Don't go," she said softly, bringing her head back from his own. His eyes opened and the gold orbs glowed with adoration and a deeper, darker look of dread. He stroked her hair back from her face and continued to stare at her. As well as his trepidation, guilt shone deeply within them and, instantly, she wished she could rid him of it.

He sighed, gathering her closer in his arms.

"I want you to be free, Christine," he said, leaning his forehead against her own again. "I want you to have a life without fear and persecution. I can give you that now. It's the least you and Nadir deserve."

"But I want you more," she moaned, the lapels of his jacket now clenched in her fists. "Tell me; what is it you must do?"

He let out a huff and his eyes searched the ceiling as if the answer would be there, she gently dragged his head back so he was once again looking in his eyes.

"There are a lot of people in danger, aren't there?" she whispered. She already knew the answer from the look in his eyes. She also knew it meant Erik would be in danger too and she couldn't condone it.

"I don't care about them," she continued with vehemence, but the words rang hollow even as she said them. "You're all that matters to me."

He smiled wryly as she admitted the same sentiment he had done less than an hour ago. She'd been ready to chastise him for it then, he could only love her for it now.

"Yes, you do," he said softly. "You told me I was a good man…I said I would kill people for you. Let me save them for you now."

Christine shook her head sadly, feeling his words bite her heart. "You don't need to prove anything to me, Erik. I couldn't live with myself if you were doing this-"

He wrapped his hand around one of her own and silenced her with a kiss to her finger tips. It sent tingles all the way up to her elbow. He pressed her hand to his heart and looked at her with resolution.

She felt her heart lurch. She gently touched his mask. He no longer flinched away from her. "Please…"

He began to sing to her. His mouth hovered by her ear and as soon as he began she felt the wave of horror ease. His heavenly voice lifted and carried her and she was floating.

She forgot what had been bothering her; it didn't matter anymore. She could feel his arms around her and she was slipping through mist, skimming across a lake, weightless.

Someone kissed her too briefly. She tried to hold onto them but her hands were gently plied away.

"Goodbye, Christine."

No.

Why was it so dark? How did she get onto this bed? Everything felt rough and constrictive against her skin. She grabbed in the dark for him again but he slipped through her fingers like smoke.

Her heart lurched. The music stopped and she came down to Earth with a jolt; her angel was gone.