Phantom of the Opera 1. Prologue & Ch One  Road to Recovery

_A/N: This is a sequel to my first story __Help Me Say Goodbye__. If you've not read that, I highly recommend that you do that first or this will make little sense. I realize some were getting a bit frustrated at the protagonists' doubts by the end of the original but I promise they will finally see the light fairly quickly. It's mainly to set the tone and feel before all the other little plots begin._

_I doubt I need to say that I own nothing beyond original characters. Though, now that he's in the public domain, I suppose I could borrow Erik for a while. For those who haven't read the first story, I have never read Kay's book and so have given my Persian a different name. Any similarities or stark differences between Da'ud al-Zahir and Kay's Persian are purely coincidental and made out of ignorance, not malice. Thank you, and enjoy!

* * *

_

**Prologue - November**

The room was filled with roses when Alexandra Roberts awoke that morning; their deep red petals contrasting sharply with the stark white of the hospital room. She hadn't dreamed him, then. Erik had really been here. Just yesterday she'd come out of the coma she'd retreated into as a result of her emotional anguish, high fever, and gunshot wounds and doctors had been in and out of her room ever since. Yet, the man she wanted to see, the man she was certain was beside her yesterday, was nowhere to be found. Gazing at the dozens of roses, she sincerely hoped these weren't a farewell gift. Her red hair, now slightly past her shoulders, fanned out on the pillow as pale green eyes stared up at the ceiling. She couldn't help the dreamy smile that brightened her features as she thought of the man she'd known for less than a month and yet had still stolen her heart. Their night together…that one glorious night she got to hold him in her arms would always be precious to her. She'd never experienced such closeness, such a strong connection, with any man and thought he'd felt the same. With the events that followed, however, she couldn't be sure she hadn't imagined it to soothe her troubled mind.

Outside the room, Erik Devereaux paced and waited for visiting hours to start. He'd been driving the nurses up the wall for over an hour and they were more than happy to direct him towards the doctor when he emerged from Alex's room. If it hadn't been for his agitation and constant questions, the nurses would have been extremely pleased to have him in their waiting room. He was handsome and tall, towering over everyone at over six feet; his dark hair, neatly combed when he entered that morning, now lay in disarray from running his fingers through it as he paced. He was slim but muscular and had a natural grace about him that appealed to the nurses' baser urges. When he paced, he stalked and prowled like a caged panther; one of the ladies even swore he growled when checking the clock. And those eyes! As golden as the big cats they compared him to, none had seen anything like it. But for all his sensual good looks, they breathed a sigh of relief when the doctor allowed him in his lady's room. His worry and impatience had begun to set them on edge.

The door swung open quietly but Alex didn't look away from her silent study of the ceiling. As often as the doctors had been in recently, she wondered why they closed the door at all. It wasn't until her hand was gathered tenderly in another's that she dragged her gaze to her visitor and gasped in delighted surprise. He'd come back.

"You came back."

"Of course I did, _ma petite_." His smile was oh so tender as he wiped a happy tear from her cheek. "_Ne pleur pas, Alexandra_. It's all over; you're safe now."

She knew he meant to reassure her but his words pierced her heart. Safe she may be from those who killed her family and relieved to be done with that nightmare. But what if he meant _they_ were over as well and it was safe for her to return to her cold apartment alone? Closing her eyes, she turned away only to have his hand gently cup her cheek to return her gaze to his. The brilliance and fire in his amber eyes took her breath away and she feared if her heartbeat accelerated any more the doctors would be in to investigate.

"You will come back to the Estate to recuperate, _ma petite chère_. I go today to close your lease and fetch your mail while you nap. No, do not argue this is not a suggestion nor is it open for debate. You will heal much faster under my care than alone in that depressing little apartment."

"But…Erik," already she could feel sleep beckoning once more. "My lease won't be up for another six months…."

"Sshh, let Erik take care of these insignificant things, Alexandra. Your sole job is to get better quickly." Leaning forward, he brushed a light kiss across her lips and smoothed the hair from her face. "_Dormir maintenant, mon amour. Je serai de retour bientôt_."

Not understanding the beautiful language, Alex nevertheless responded to the soothing tone and drifted off into healing sleep. One final caress upon her porcelain skin and Erik quietly left the room to ensure all was in readiness for his Alexandra to return home. He'd already arranged for a moving company to meet him at the apartment later today to pack her things and deliver them to his Estate. All that was left was to dispose of that atrocious death trap she called a car and to buy her out of the lease. Once she was safely recuperating in his home, he could work on persuading her to stay. Preferably forever.

**Chapter 1 - December**

Nearly two months had passed since the events at the abandoned opera house. Alexandra had managed to convince her doctors to allow her to be discharged before Christmas; and, for the first time, the Devereaux Estate hosted a family Christmas dinner. Another first was the decorations that lent a festive air to the elegant home as well as the tall tree that stood in a corner of the Library. Alex knew Erik's views on religion but after many arguments, tantrums (his and hers), sulks (his), and tears (hers), he conceded and the plans were made. Still not overly enthused over the idea of celebrating the holiday, he couldn't refuse anything that put so much happiness in Alex's eyes. As for Alex, she kept the guest list extremely small, family and close friends only. Angelique, Da'ud, and Lizzie all arrived together and early so as to help with the final touches. Meghan brought her boyfriend, Russell, a fellow dancer at the opera house, who was terrified to meet the famous composer who was notorious for his temper. Erik didn't help matters when he pulled the boy aside and pointed out that he thought of Meg as his little sister. With an air of mock congeniality, he then went into vivid details of what would happen to the individual who dared to make her cry. Alexandra shot him an exasperated look, rescued the boy, and returned him to Meg. Erik merely smiled; he had accomplished what he set out to do.

Due to her early release from the hospital, Alex was confined to a wheel chair in order to prevent her from over exerting herself. Until her strength fully returned, the doctors were concerned about a relapse of her fever and stressed the importance that she rest to Erik. Due to recent events he knew how very trustworthy she was in staying off her feet and vowed to keep her close to him so he could monitor her health, thus, the wheelchair. Alex, though happy to spend time with Erik, was not happy with the restriction but preferred it to spending the holidays in a stark, sterile hospital room. Her biggest disappointment for the season, other than Samuel's absence, was not being able to cook the meal herself; instead, Erik hired a chef who answered only to Alex as to the menu and any other requirements she might have. Now that their guests had arrived, she could relax and enjoy the party. Unwilling to admit how tired she already was, she wheeled herself off to the side to watch her friends. She let her eyes drift back to the man who had stolen her heart and for whom she'd been willing to give up her very life. Standing with the other three men, only he drew her eye like a moth to a flame and oh how she loved the burn. As if he felt her gaze, he turned and gave her a slow, seductive smile that spoke of promises for when house was empty once more. She could feel the blush that tinted her cheeks yet couldn't help but smile back.

When she awoke in the hospital for the first time after the ordeal at the Populaire, she'd been ecstatic to find Erik beside her and mostly uninjured. On one of the rare visits when her masked lover was elsewhere, Da'ud had informed her of what had happened to Raoul and Christine. Erik didn't speak of what had happened and she couldn't help but wonder if he regretted any of it. To love someone so deeply, so faithfully, and for so long and then be instrumental in her death had to be hard on him no matter where he bestowed his affections now. She wasn't even sure he'd bestowed them upon her but still she remained. Alex, having faced her own mortality, was quite willing to accept whatever he could offer her but she couldn't help but dream that one day… She sighed and pushed that dream into the deepest recesses of her heart. How could she hope for forever when he'd never claimed to love her?

"Why didn't you tell me you were tired, _ma petite_?" Erik's voice was laced with concern as he knelt by her chair. He'd heard her sigh and rushed over. "Shall I take you upstairs so you can rest?" His hands were gentle as he felt her forehead and cheeks as if she had suddenly become feverish.

"Not yet, please," Alex smiled and took his hands in hers and kissed each. There were times she thought he was over protective to the point of smothering and it chafed at her independent spirit. Though she understood that he'd been worried she would never wake from the fever and the gunshot that grazed her head, she often had to remind him that she was an adult who could make her own decisions. "I'm fine until dinner, Erik, I'm sure. You worry too much."

"Never." Though his whisper was soft, his eyes captured hers and begged her to understand. Leaning forward to brush a soft kiss upon his lips, she reassured him once more.

"I promise I'm fine. I'll let you know when it gets to be too much." Though it was plain he wasn't happy, he nodded and rose to his feet. For the rest of the evening, he refused to stray far from her side in case he was needed

After dinner, Erik played while Meg treated them all to an impromptu performance. It was the first time Alex and Lizzie had seen her dance and they were instantly enchanted with her grace. While everyone congratulated the young dancer, their host played a few more tunes, some from his newest opera, when the subject of caroling was brought up. With much coaxing, they finally got him to play several of the more popular Christmas carols and the house rang with the sounds of the season. Alex hated to bring the celebration to an end but she could no longer deny her fatigue. Lightly touching Erik's arm, it took but a look for him to understand her needs and he politely but quickly ushered their guests from the house. Lifting her carefully in his arms, Erik carried his lady up the stairs to help her prepare for bed.

**The next morning…**

Brushing her hair from her face, Erik worried about the fiery minx asleep in his bed. Over the last few weeks, Alexandra had become more and more withdrawn and it frightened him. He'd tried to get her to talk to him, to share whatever was bothering her, but she'd brush it off as being tired or bored. In an effort to build trust between them, he'd promised not to influence her mind again but he was growing desperate. Was she planning to leave him once she was well? He thought he'd lost her once; he wouldn't survive if he lost her again. Suddenly her lashes fluttered and he was staring into her pale green eyes.

"I apologize, _ma petite chère_." Erik murmured softly, the silkiness of his voice caressing her cheek as lightly as his fingers. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Ah but you did," Alex grinned saucily. "You're now required to pay a fine." Her eyes drifted to his lips and set his blood aflame.

His eyes turned into molten orbs of desire as he slowly lowered his head. "A fine, _petite_?" Growling low and seductively, he let his lips brush hers as light as a butterfly's touch. Erik had to suppress a wicked grin as she strained to capture his kiss. "I think not." Quickly he sat up and smirked down at her eyes, nearly emerald green in passion and frustration.

"ERIK!" Alex reached for him but he used the opportunity to grip her wrists firmly but gently and pin them above her head. When he grinned at her grunt of frustration, she stuck out her lip in the cutest pout he'd ever seen.

"You, _ma petite_," he leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose, "are a lovely enticing minx and I would like nothing more than to spend the day in bed discovering all your secrets but that is not to be. You are still recovering and I have to work on my opera if rehearsals are to begin in January." Erik released her and rolled off the bed. "Do you want to bathe first?"

"I suppose so if you're going to be stubborn." He narrowed his eyes at the genuine annoyance in her voice as well as something else he couldn't name. He studied her face silently and then he knew…rejection. She thought he was turning her down because he wanted to? He helped her sit up before kneeling in front of her to hold her hands.

"Alexandra, this is hard for me, too. I want you so badly I ache but I will not hinder your recovery for anything. You go for a follow up after the holidays, _ma petite_. Let us wait to see what the doctor says, first." Standing, Erik helped Alex to her feet and held her close, molding her body to his so she can feel how the enforced celibacy was affecting him. She hugged him tightly and then pulled away to give him a small smile.

"I know, Erik, I'm just sick of it interfering with everything."

He watched her move to the bathroom and still could not shake the feeling that something was bothering her. Deeply troubled, Erik tossed on his robe and headed for the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. She couldn't evade his questions forever. Could she?

* * *

_A/N: Yeah, two notes for the price of one! Read and review, my lovelies, as I'm having trouble leaving this one alone to work on Innocent Deceptions XD_


	2. Chapter 2

_Insert standard disclaimer here. :D Ok, ok, I don't own PotO or any of its characters. There. Happy now?_

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**December**

Alex waited for the click of the bedroom door before turning the taps. She was dying to take a shower and wash her hair and knew Erik would scold her for standing too long. Erik…he was as much an enigma to her now as when she first met him. He'd sat with her every day at the hospital, bringing a small portable keyboard so he could work on his opera, or simply talking to her about anything and nothing. Now that they were back at the Estate; however, he'd shut himself away in the Music Room and barely remembered to eat. When she mentioned it to him, he had simply shrugged and told her that he was always highly focused right before rehearsals started. Alex had understood but a niggling doubt in the back of her head had her wondering if he had grown tired of her already.

Sitting on the edge of the bed to lace up her sneakers, Alex heard Erik's light tread on the stairs and wished her heart didn't race so at the mere thought of him. It was quite disconcerting to imagine him naked _every time_ she saw him, especially when he refused to let her do anything about it. As annoyed as she was with her natural reaction to his nearness, she nonetheless gave him a smile of gratitude for the cup of hot, black coffee he placed in her hands. They spoke of commonplace things until their cups were empty and Alex felt a bit more human. Erik scooped her into his arms and carried her to the hated chair at the bottom of the stairs. She couldn't wait to be rid of the blasted thing and sitting in it did nothing for her mood.

Erik had returned from placing their cups in the sink and caught the handles of the chair before she could wheel herself into the Library. Instead, he told her that he had a surprise for her and pushed the chair towards the Music Room. When they entered, Alex didn't immediately notice anything different. The grand piano still took up most of one corner of the room and the walls were lined with built in book cases. Behind the piano, however, in the corner of the room with the best natural lighting in the house sat an easel complete with canvasses of many sizes, paints, pencils…everything she'd ever dream of needing or wanting in a studio. At first, she was rendered speechless. Was this why he wouldn't let her in the Music Room? Turning in the chair to look up at him, she could see how nervous he was and couldn't resist rising to throw her arms around him.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! God, Erik…this is…wow. Amazing." She pulled his head down to place a heated kiss on his lips, sighing happily when he slid his tongue along the seam of her mouth begging entrance.

Pulling back slightly with a shaky breath, Erik laid his forehead on hers and smiled down into her eyes. "You must let me know if there is anything I've forgotten, _ma petite chère_." Alex nodded eagerly and pulled from his embrace to inspect the supplies he'd bought her.

Everything was of the highest quality, from the smallest erasers to the giant canvases. There were brushes in sizes she never even knew existed and the sheer variety of paint colors took her breath away. The lighting was perfect and the positioning of the supplies to the easel was precise and convenient. With another squeal of excitement, Alex threw herself into Erik's arms again.

"Merry Christmas, Alexandra, _mon amour chérie_," She gasped at the brilliance in his golden eyes and then she was drowning in his kiss. Unlike the heated passion they'd shared before, this time his lips touched hers gently, reverently, drawing her heart fully into his keeping and she gave it to him eagerly.

**xoxoxo**

Erik pulled back slightly and caressed her cheek with the tips of his fingers, content to hold her and lose himself in her eyes. What was it about this female that tugged at his heart so desperately? She was almost as stubborn as he was, so full of fire and passion, and unbelievably, heart-wrenchingly beautiful. He could bask in the glow of her inner light for a lifetime and beyond and hoped he'd have the chance to do just that. With a final, gentle kiss, he guided his Alexandra back to her chair and sat at her desk holding her hands.

"You are an amazing artist, _ma petite_, and should have the opportunity to explore your talent as fully as you wish. I have cleared one of the spare rooms on the top floor for you to set up as a full studio should you so desire it. You may equip it with anything you feel you will need." He smiled at her shock and couldn't resist raising her hands to his lips. "I placed this small station here, however, out of pure selfishness. I simply cannot have you closeted away from me for hours at a time. I also hoped that you would be willing to work with me on my Don Juan as a designer and artist."

"What?" Alex's voice was little more than a whisper.

"There are several set pieces that will have to be custom made and I'd like for you to design them…"

"But, Erik, I don't know a thing about designing for the theatre! I'm hobby artist, not a professional."

"You, _ma petite_, are an amazing artist," he smiled gently and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, "and I don't want to hear another word to the contrary. You won't have to work alone, either. The lead set designer and I will help you with whatever you need."

Watching her nibble her lip as she mulled over his offer, Erik was tempted to kiss her until she agreed. He didn't want to return to the theatre and leave her here during rehearsals; he greatly feared she'd not be here when he returned. If he could show her what his life was like when people weren't shooting at them, perhaps she'd be more inclined to stay long enough for him to convince her they belonged together. And if that failed, he wasn't above spiriting her away until she agreed.

"You flatter me, Erik, but…" she gripped his hands tight and would no longer meet his eyes.

"But nothing," he frowned at her constant resistance, releasing her hands to stand at the window with his back to her. "You don't want to work with me, is that it? I suppose now that the danger is over you're ready to return to your life; a life without the monster. What waits for you there, Alexandra? A tiny apartment with faulty heating, a car that should have been sent to the junk yard years ago, and a job you will despise within weeks. Why can't you…"

"Why can't you shut up and let me get a word in edgewise!" Alex's angry words drowned his out as she grabbed his arm and turned him around to face her. "Listen to me, Devereaux, and listen to me good. You. Are. Not. A. Monster!" Although it was like trying to move a cement pillar, she did her best to shake him as each word left her lips as a frustrated growl. "And if I ever, _ever_ hear you call yourself that again, I will personally kick your sexy, toned ass. Do I have your attention now? Good. I would love to work in an artistic field, Erik, and it would be divine to work on something as incredible as your Don Juan; but I'm not a professional artist! I've had no training beyond what I've taught myself and absolutely no experience designing sets for a theater." Taking a deep breath she released his arms to cup his cheeks in both her hands. "I simply don't want to be placed in such a prominent position so very close to production when I have no idea what I'm doing. Let me understudy, or whatever set designers do, and advance as I gain confidence."

Gazing into her pale green eyes, Erik acknowledged that she had a point though he was eager for everyone to be aware of her astounding talent. A smile played along the corners of his mouth as he pulled her into his arms, pressing her fully against the hard planes of body. His smile grew when she felt his body's reaction to hers and blushed a bright red. His hand traced up and down her spine slowly, enjoying the feel of her.

"Very well, _ma petite chère_, I will see to an internship of sorts for you if you wish. I simply…I just want you with me, Alexandra. I don't want to spend as much time as is needed during rehearsals without you by my side." His voice was hesitant as he confessed one of the wishes in his heart.

"Oh, Erik!" Alex wrapped her arms tightly around him and buried her head against his chest to hide her tears of joy. She'd been so afraid he planned to leave her on the Estate nursing a broken heart while he went to the theater and into the arms of the beautiful actresses eager to be seen with such a handsome, successful composer. Perhaps if she went to the theater with him, worked with him, he'd see how good they were together. If not, at least she would have had more time with him. "I want to be with you, too." He was thankful for his incredibly keen hearing; else he'd have missed her soft whisper. "For however long you'll have me."

* * *

_A/N: Ready to kick their butts yet? XD Things will improve just stay tuned!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: Yeah, I'm bad about forgetting these. I don't own anything that might resemble characters, places, or situations from Leroux's PotO or ALW's musical of the same name. There. Done._

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**December 31**

The week after Christmas seemed to crawl slower than a snail to both of the occupants of the Devereaux Estate. New Year's Eve was the traditional date for the opera house's annual masquerade ball, a grand affair that brought patrons and artists together for a night of entertainment to kick off the upcoming opera season. After Alex's last medical review, Erik had consulted with the doctor and, as long as she didn't over do it, he'd be able to truly escort her to the ball on his arm instead of in the much-despised chair. He was trying to keep it a surprise but it was difficult when the doctor had approved _all_ physical activity as long as she got plenty of rest.

Erik barely slept the night before the ball; instead, he held his Alexandra and watched as she slept. Her hair framed her face like a fiery halo made all the brighter by the inky blackness of his satin sheets; he was pleased that she was letting her hair grow long for he loved its brilliant color. Unable to resist touching her, he brushed the back of his hand lightly across her cheek and felt his heart fill to overflowing when she smiled and whispered his name. She was beautiful and tonight, after the ball, she would be his once more. He faced the coming night with as much trepidation as eager anticipation. The ball represented all he sought to avoid during the rest of the year; the posturing and fawning and deal-making of the management, actors, and patrons was enough to turn his stomach. Let the managers deal with that side of things, it's what they were hired for anyway. But tonight he wished to attend if only to show off the lovely creature at his side and in his heart.

Eager to get their day started, Erik woke his love with gentle, feather-light kisses that deepened with the passion that was never far from the surface. When they finally broke for air, he buried his face in her neck and held her tight as he struggled for control. He sat up, bringing her with him, and placed a final kiss upon her brow before rising. They had fallen into a comfortable routine in the month she'd lived with him so he started down the stairs to start the coffee while she headed for the shower. As the door closed behind him, however, he missed the stricken look on Alex's face as she saw his costume hanging on the closet door. With a suppressed sob, she darted for the bathroom where she could let her tears flow unchecked.

Oblivious to her pain, Erik returned with a tray containing coffee, fruit, pastries, juice, and a single red rose tied with a black silk ribbon. Beneath the rose was her invitation to the ball, he'd show her the costume he'd chosen after she'd eaten. His first hint that all was not well with Alex was the length of time spent in the bathroom. She'd never been one to fuss over her morning ablutions and already she'd taken twice as long as normal. He became worried that she might have fallen and knocked lightly on the door. His concern grew when she failed to answer and he knocked again with more force while calling her name.

"Alexandra, are you alright, _ma petite_?" He tried the knob and was astonished to find it locked. Worry soon grew to full-blown panic; she'd never locked him out before. He kept his voice even only with great effort. "Please open the door, _ma chèrie_, your coffee shall get cold and I have a surprise for you."

"I may be a while, Erik. Go on without me and I'll join you later in the Music Room." He frowned at the lack of emotions in her voice. Was she angry? He couldn't think of anything that could have happened to spark her temper. Maybe she had been crying instead? If she was in pain, she needed to tell him.

"Open the door, Alexandra." His concern was quickly turning to anger at her stubbornness; the silence stretched between them and fueled his temper. "That was not a request."

"I'm a big girl, Devereaux; I can get myself out of the bathroom, thank you very much." Ah, so it was anger. At least he didn't have to worry about her health.

"I'm sure you can, _ma petite_, but if you do not do so quickly I will be compelled to come aid you. I feel certain you don't want that to happen, now do you?" His golden voice was silky smooth and as sharp as a freshly honed razor blade.

**xxxx**

The stress and uncertainty of the last few weeks had all come to a head when Alex realized that _they_ wouldn't be forfeiting the ball, just her. Erik had never once said he loved her or that their relationship, however it was defined, was a monogamous one. Perhaps he already had a date, a beautiful singer who was able to share his love for music in a way she never could. She continued to torment herself with such thoughts - picturing a beautiful woman in his arms while they danced, his golden eyes smiling down at her with love and desire, their kiss as they succumb to their passion – and her despair was giving way to anger. If he was just going to abandon her for an easy romp at the ball, then he can go and good riddance. She'd be better off without him. In order not to collapse into hysterics at the prospect of having to leave Erik, she welcomed the anger and stoked it.

The click of the lock sounded unusually loud and she risked a glance at the man she loved. He blocked the doorway with his tall, imposing frame; his eyes molten amber with fury and a set of odd tools in his hand. Her heart beat quickly at the sight of his angry magnificence. _My God he was irresistible when furious._ Unwilling to back down from his temper and show her misery, Alex merely crossed her arms and arched a brow as she stared at him.

"Bravo, Devereaux, you've slain the demon named Door and made your way to the lady it held captive. Don't you feel special?" She prayed the sarcasm hid her nervousness; he looked positively dangerous.

Erik tossed the tools into a corner and stalked towards her, his eyes pinning her in place as surely as any physical bonds. The closer he came, the more nervous she got and she hid her shaking hands behind her. When he was mere inches from her, he stared into her eyes and Alex felt he was looking into her very soul. In that one brief moment, her defenses cracked and revealed all her pain and sadness before she managed to tear her gaze from his. She tried to resist the firm but gentle hand that guided her eyes back to his face but he would brook no opposition. Once more she was caught in his liquid pools of amber fire.

"I will have my answers, _ma petite_," his voice was a sensuous purr that caressed her skin and made her blood run hot. The fingers that glided across her cheek left a trail of tingling fire and she wanted nothing more than to fall into his arms and to hell with the future. The corners of his lips curled up in the barest ghost of a smile. "You do not want to be angry, Alexandra; in fact, you are not. Are you? No, the anger is but a mask to hide your true feelings. It was you who demanded that there were to be no masks between us, _ma petite chère_. I've left off wearing mine; it is time you do the same."

As much as she tried to fight it, Alex couldn't stop the tears that came to her eyes nor control the trembling of her body beneath his gentle hand. "Why didn't you tell me you were attending the ball without me, Erik?"

"Come with me." Suddenly, he stepped away and she felt the loss of his body heat keenly. Feeling numb, she followed him and sat on the edge of the bed at his gesture. "Look on the tray, Alexandra."

Biting her lip and risking a glance at his impassive face, she inched over to the night stand and looked at the breakfast he'd prepared for them. The rose brought tears to her eyes once more and she caressed its soft petals before inhaling its lovely fragrance. She took the envelope that had lain beneath the rose and opened it. Alex brought a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob; the envelope contained her invitation to the ball. He had planned to take her all along. Gentle hands on her shoulders turned her into his embrace as Erik ran his fingers through her damp hair.

"Shhh…no more tears, _ma petite chère_." He murmured against her hair. "I didn't mention it as I wished to surprise you. Your costume is now hanging in your closet. Oh, no, _ma chère_," he tightened his hold on her to keep her from rising, "you can see it later. Right now you will tell me, please, why you didn't let me know this had been bothering you."

"It seemed so petty…" Alex stopped when he shook his head. Damn, he wasn't going to accept that. "Um, well…"

"The truth, Alexandra."

"I…I didn't want to presume…I mean, we've made n…no commitment to each other." She gave a shrug, "I figured if…if you wanted me there, you'd have asked by now."

**xxxx**

Erik stared at her in shock. Did she truly have no idea how he felt? But no, he could see it in her eyes; she thought she was nothing more to him than a pleasant interlude. All this time…

"Alexandra, _ma petite chère_…" He longed to set her mind at ease but didn't want to spoil the surprise he had in store. But _perhaps_ he could give her a hint. Leaning down, Erik brushed her lips with his and smiled tenderly. "I didn't ask because I thought you knew I'd have no other at my side tonight. And you will be at my side, _ma petite_; the doctor says you may leave the chair at home as long as you don't overtax your strength. I have…plans…for tonight after the ball so I will ensure you do not grow too weary."

A faint blush stained her cheeks as she imagined all sorts of things he could have planned. Grinning wickedly, Erik pulled her closer and nibbled his way up her neck; all the while wondering how he was ever going to be able to wait until after the ball. He teased her mercilessly, placing light kisses on her face but studiously avoiding her lips. When she whimpered in frustrated protest, he finally let her guide his lips to hers. Sighing in delight, Alex eagerly accepted his kiss, even deepened it, but ever in the back of her mind remained a single, heart rending thought: he still had said nothing about love.


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: Don't own PotO unless you count the raggedy paperback my kid has practically memorized._

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**December 31**

The rest of the morning was to be spent on the ground floor of the house as Erik claimed he didn't want her to tire herself before they left for the ball. He even had her gather anything she'd need from the room, such as her makeup, jewelry, and underwear, and place them back in her old bedroom. Though he did worry that Alex would overdo things before they even left the Estate, he was more worried that she would stumble onto the other surprises he had in store for her after they returned. For her part, she was aware he was up to something; he'd not been this adamant about her remaining on the bottom floor since her first days in his home. His barely concealed delight at whatever scheme he was setting into place eased her mind and had her believing she'd enjoy whatever he had planned.

In order to pass the day in a leisurely fashion without giving in to her ever-growing curiosity, Alex spent the morning on the computer chatting with Lizzie. Her friend had recently sold her house and moved to a gated community as a result of Christine's and Raoul's invasion of her home. When questioned about her relationship with Erik, Alex neatly side-stepped the issue by telling her all about her new position as a set designer. She described his _Don Juan Triumphant_ and, though she was blushing deeply, explained why this particular opera would always hold a special place in her heart. Before she signed off for lunch with her sexy composer, Lizzie brought up one disturbing thought: Alex's student loans. Now that she had graduated, the payments would begin soon and she'd been out of work for nearly three months. With a sigh, she brought up a few job search sights. It looked like she'd be an accountant after all.

**xxxx**

Lunch was usually a quick and simple affair but Erik had other plans. A picnic basket with a neatly folded blanket on top was placed on the table and held all they'd need. There was a lovely place just through a line of trees that overlooked a small pond; far enough away they wouldn't be able to see the house but not too far for Alexandra to walk. Though the December air still carried the bite of winter, the sky was clear and the wind was calm. With a good coat and a blanket over their legs, they should be able to enjoy themselves with minimal discomfort. And if they did get a bit chilled, there was much to be said for body heat. After calling the main gate to let them know he wouldn't be at the house and to call his cell if he was needed, he went in search of Alex. He found her in the Library poring over job sites which immediately resurrected all his concerns that she planned to leave him.

"Have you changed your mind about working at the opera house, _ma petite_?" He kept his voice smooth with effort as his stomach was churning. He couldn't let her leave him, not now…not ever.

"Of course not," Alex smiled but her glance was quick and didn't meet his eyes, "but I remembered that I've got some serious financial obligations and no income since early October. So, I'll actually use my degree and be a hobby artist once more."

Relieved that she was simply worried about finances, Erik reached over her shoulder and closed the laptop. A gentle finger on her lips stopped her protests as he helped her from her chair and escorted her into the kitchen. "Would _mademoiselle_ do me the honor of her presence on a picnic?" He bowed elegantly and offered her his arm as he picked up the basket. Her smile was genuine this time and she took his arm after planting a swift kiss on his cheek. At the door, Erik helped her on with her coat before donning his own.

"Erik?"

"Yes, _ma petite chère_?"

"Where did this come from?" Alex touched the faux fur collar to indicate the winter coat. "I know it didn't come from my apartment."

"Yours wasn't thick enough for the winter, _petite_, so I took it upon myself to purchase you a new one." He wrapped a scarf around her neck and sat a matching hat upon her head before guiding her out the door. "You do like it, don't you?" He was slightly nervous as he didn't know how she'd react to his gifts; his Alexandra could be a stubborn woman who too often let her pride get in her way. With a wry smile, he acknowledged how alike they were in that respect.

"Of course, I love it, but you shouldn't have…"

"Shush. If I wish to spend my money on you, I shall." Erik's smile as he interrupted her protests took the bite out of his gentle chiding. He was pleased when she simply shook her head and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "stubborn mule" though it held more humor than irritation. He chuckled softly and kissed the top of her head before guiding her through the short trail between the trees. The rest of the walk was filled with companionable silence as both became lost in thoughts of the other.

"Oh, Erik!" Alex's eyes were wide as she surveyed the hilltop and its lovely view of the surrounding meadows. The lake below them sparkled in the sun like one of Mother Nature's diamond brooches and the effect took her breath away. Behind her, Erik laid out the picnic blanket and basket before approaching and wrapping his arms around her from behind.

"_Mademoiselle_ approves of the venue?" He tightened his hold briefly when she melted against him and buried his unmasked face in her neck. Grinning and placing a gentle nibble on her sensitive neck when she shivered at his low murmur in her ear, Erik then stepped back and guided her to the blanket. After draping the second blanket across their legs, he prepared both of their plates with the simple fare of sandwiches and fruit, pouring them each a cup of hot cocoa from the insulated thermos.

"You never told me you were such a romantic, my love," Alex chuckled as she leaned against the trunk of a large tree with her hands wrapped around the warm cup.

"I've never had reason to be until you tumbled into my life." He kept his tone light to conceal the depth of his feelings for now but could not resist the temptation to spoil her. "Alexandra…"

**xxxx**

She clutched her mug of cocoa tightly as she cursed her runaway tongue. She'd sworn she'd not complicate their relationship by letting him know how much she loved him and yet, at the first opportunity, she blurted it out without thinking. She prayed he thought it a simple term of endearment with nothing more than a lover's affection behind it. Alex didn't want him to stay with her out of guilt or a sense of obligation. If he only wanted her as a lover, she would try her best to be satisfied with that and hide her pain from his piercing eyes. His next words, however, ripped open the cage she'd so carefully constructed around the hope in her heart.

"I've never had reason to be until you tumbled into my life." His words were spoken so lightly that she had to dismiss them as teasing. But oh how she wished it to be true! When Erik said her name, and she heard that slight catch to his voice, her heart nearly stopped beating. In her most secret fantasies, Alex had dreamed of a moment like this. The romantic setting was perfect with just the two of them close and intimate; he'd take her in his arms and ask her to stay with him always. She longed for such a moment and yet…squashing her foolish dream, Alex took a deep breath and tried to remain calm.

"I have a gift for you, _ma petite chère_." Erik took the mug from her hands and replaced it with a long, black velvet box. Alex kept her eyes averted; frightened he'd see her unreasonable disappointment that the box wasn't smaller and more square. She hoped he dismissed her shaking hands as excitement as she pried open the lid. Her gasp, however, was genuine at the beautiful ruby and diamond necklace, bracelet, and earring set. This had to have cost a fortune; there was no way she could accept this!

"Erik…I can't…this is too much…" Oh but she wanted to. The gems were set in platinum, one of her favorites as yellow gold clashed with her skin tone, and were impressive but not gaudy. The focal gem was an emerald cut stone that had to be at least five carats with two dainty chains dangling from the bottom lined with tiny baguette cut diamonds. The chain which held the main stone consisted of three delicate Figaro chains braided around alternating diamonds and rubies. The bracelet matched the chains' braided design while the earrings were smaller mirrors of the focal stone. Together, it was an astonishingly beautiful set.

"You can, _mon amour_," he leaned over and kissed her softly, "and you will. It will also look wonderful with your costume for tonight."

"But…Erik, you've been so wonderful to me and I have nothing to give you," Alex glanced up at him before her eyes were irresistibly drawn back to the gems. A gentle finger nudged under her chin and she was amazed at the happiness in his golden eyes.

"You have given me something worth far more than anything that can be bought, Alexandra. You've accepted me: my face, my horrible temper, even my odd habits. All of the gold and gems in the world cannot compare to such a treasure." Caressing her cheek softly, almost reverently, Erik leaned forward and captured her lips in a soft, gentle, soul-stealing kiss.

* * *

_A/N: I know this one is short, but it was a natural stopping point. Up next, the masquerade!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: Don't own it. Make no money off it. Don't sue._

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**December 31**

The masquerade ball was already in full swing by the time the sleek, black limo pulled up to the curb. The driver, one of the security guards from the Estate, opened the door for the two impeccably dressed occupants. Erik stepped out in a formal nineteenth century black tailored opera suit with a crisp white shirt, blood red waistcoat and matching red cravat. He complemented it with a black cape lined with red satin, black fedora, and mahogany walking stick topped with a silver skull glaring out with ruby eyes. He wore a specially made white porcelain mask that gleamed from beneath the fedora and the overall effect was breath-taking. When she first saw him, Alex couldn't help it; she gaped like a fish. It took her more self-control than she thought she possessed not to drag him up the stairs to his room to spend the night exploring the secrets of her mysterious Phantom.

Once he had his hat in place, Erik turned to help his lady out of the limousine. Alexandra was wearing a matching period ball dress with a pure white sleeveless form-fitting bodice embroidered with red and silver flowers. The skirt was white satin over tulle with a small train in the back and a trim of red and silver embroidery to match the bodice. The jewelry he'd given her on their picnic gleamed on her alabaster skin while long white satin gloves and a faux fox-fur wrap completed the ensemble. When Erik saw her waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs of his home, he felt as if he'd been kicked in the gut. She was more than lovely; she was radiantly beautiful! And this goddess had chosen him. He didn't have words to describe how he felt in that moment. Alex smiled her thanks at their driver before taking Erik's arm to climb the stairs to the elaborate foyer.

The moment they entered the grand ballroom, Alex was spellbound. It was decorated like the decadent boudoir of Erik's Don Juan and they matched its black and red décor perfectly. The orchestra, on a discrete signal from Erik, began playing _Point of No Return_. Bowing elegantly to a fiercely blushing Alex, who had immediately remembered the first time she'd heard the song, the Phantom pulled her into his arms for a dance.

"That couldn't have been a coincidence, Erik," she tried to give him a stern frown but ruined it with a giggle.

"You wound my sense of timing, _ma petite_," his golden eyes twinkled with mischief as he held her closer than necessary. "But if I _had_ arranged for that particular song to be played," he pulled her even closer and softly purred in her ear, "I would prefer it to be when we are alone so we could reminisce properly."

Alex wondered if pure desirous need could be fatal. The song, combined with Erik's arms around her and the memories of their night together, shot liquid fire through her blood and she trembled in his arms from the force of it. She knew Erik was fully aware of what he was doing to her for his eyes had turned to molten amber and his lips were curled in the tiniest of smug grins. Perhaps what he needed was a taste of his own medicine? Heedless of the ball, of the guests, of anything but the man in her arms, Alex pulled his lips to hers for a passionate kiss that promised heaven once they were alone. When she would have stepped back he held her close with a soft chuckle.

"Not yet, _ma petite_, unless you wish everyone to be aware of where we'd prefer to be." He shifted slightly and her eyes widened as she felt the rock hard evidence of his arousal. After several moments of rather close dancing, Erik felt confident he was presentable and escorted Alex off the ballroom floor. They were immediately joined by Angelique and Meg Giry who were eager to be reacquainted with the lady who'd stolen the heart of their masked friend.

When the managers approached to discuss the upcoming opera season with Erik, the Girys pulled Alex away for a chat. She'd grown to care deeply for Erik's family in the short time she'd known them. Angelique, though outwardly stern, had a dry sense of humor that sometimes showed itself at the strangest times. She was everything a mother should be to Erik, even on those times when she gave him a piece of her mind. Her daughter, Meg, was equally charming though in a different way. The ballerina was bubbly and full of energy to the point of being annoying at times. She enjoyed an easy, open relationship with Erik that Alex envied. The only thing that made her uneasy was her own precarious position in Erik's life and thus in theirs as well. Letting her eyes drift back to her handsome Phantom, she told herself once more to take it day by day and be satisfied with that.

"Erik tells me you're going to join us at the opera house as a set designer," Angelique's cultured voice pulled her attention away from her lover.

"Oh! Well, in a way, I suppose. I'll be working with the designer when I can as a type of internship. I sketch as a hobby and I fear Erik has exaggerated my skills."

"You've not seen him at work, have you?" Meg, a petite blond with startlingly green eyes, ginned and revealed a pair of dimples. "Trust me, if you weren't any good there's no way he'd let you anywhere near his opera. Even I had to audition and I'm his sister, for heaven's sake! If he wants you in such a position then you must be an amazing artist."

"She _is_ an amazing artist," two strong arms wrapped around Alex's waist and she leaned against Erik with a smile. "_Maman_, you've seen her sketchbook. What do you think? Is my Alexandra worthy of a job with the opera house?" Alex shot a surprised look at him; she didn't know anyone else had seen her sketchbook besides him and Da'ud.

"No, _mon fils_, she is not worthy of the opera house," Angelique teased her adoptive son, "she deserves a show in a gallery."

Alex felt like her dress was a more than appropriate color for her face had to match the red embroidery perfectly. A gallery? No, she was a hobbyist not a professional. Besides, she couldn't have the financial uncertainty of an artist; she had obligations. An additional thought came unbidden that she would need something steady when Erik grew tired of her and she had to leave. She shuddered which earned her a questioning look from warm golden eyes. Forcing a smile, Alex shook her head to let him know it was nothing. He didn't look convinced but he let it slide.

"Let me arrange one thing at a time, _maman_," Erik chuckled softly and planted a light kiss on Alex's cheek. "I am but a man, after all."

"Excuse me? Don't I have a say in all this?" Feigning irritation, Alex slid from her lover's arms to glare at him with her hands on her hips. The smile that twitched her lips and the laughter that threatened to break through totally spoiled the effect, however.

"No, _ma petite_. You do not." Grinning wickedly, her beloved Phantom pulled her back into his arms and whispered softly in her ear. "But I will allow you to punish me later." His golden eyes burned with desire as her color rose once more. Dammit, why did he always have that effect on her?

"Erik! Where _have_ you been hiding, my love?" Though she was certain the words were meant as a loving plea, they came out as shrill and whining instead. Frowning, Alex watched as an extravagantly dressed lady approached with her hands stretched out towards the composer. _Too much_ was the impression she got from the woman who grasped Erik's hands and pulled him from her arms. The lady, planting two noisy kisses on each of his cheeks, commanded attention with too much make up, too much bosom overflowing her dress, too many flowers in her hat, simply too over-the-top. _But Erik doesn't seem to mind_, she silently fumed as he let himself be led away from their group. Her temper was stoked even more when the woman looked Alex up and down and then smirked in amused dismissal.

"Child, don't worry about Erik and that…person," Angelique's face and voice held barely hidden contempt. "He'd rather lay in a pit of angry vipers than even consider spending more time than necessary with her."

"Who is she, Mrs. Giry?" Alex was embarrassed that she'd been so obviously jealous. She was going to have to be more careful or Erik would find out how she feels.

"Angelique, please, we are practically family after all." Alex wondered what she meant by that as an arm draped loosely around her waist for a motherly hug. "She was born Carla Goldman in some small New Jersey town. Now that she's a big opera star, she prefers to use Carlotta Guidicelli and fancies herself Italian. Pretentious twit." The older lady stared daggers at the diva who merely glared back. "She's aging, and not gracefully at that, which spells the beginning of the end of her career. She's been dangling after Erik for some time but he wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole."

"It doesn't look like he's all that repelled by her," Alex knew she sounded like a petulant child but couldn't help it. A woman like this, someone from his world, was her greatest fear.

"She's the leading soprano for his opera house. For now, at least. He has to be somewhat civil if he doesn't want to rely on the understudy. Regardless of what she wants, Erik maintains a professional relationship with the woman. He definitely wouldn't want any other kind of relationship; he doesn't know where she's been."

"He doesn't…?" Alex couldn't stop her giggle.

"Yes, well he might know some of it which only reinforces that thought." Angelique looped her arm through Alex's and walked to an abandoned corner to put some distance between them and the other guests. "My dear, let me assure you of one thing; when Erik gives his heart, he doesn't do so lightly. I wouldn't worry about the prima donna inspiring anything but exasperation in him."

"But…" Alex let her eyes wander back to the masked man and the diva, "he hasn't, Angelique. Given his heart, that is. We have no understanding, made no promises beyond this moment and…"

"Nonsense!" Angelique waved her words away. "I'd taken you for an intelligent girl, Alexandra, but if you can't see how much that man loves you then you are a fool. The question is…do you love _him_?"

"More than life itself." Her answer was immediate and little more than a whisper as she fought the hope the lady's words stirred to life. Erik chose that moment to look over at them and his slow, seductive smile only stirred her hope more.

"Then you have nothing to worry about, dear. Now, go stake your claim so that Carla knows the score."

**xxxx**

Erik had stopped listening to the diva's demands the moment he turned to find Alex staring at him with love shining from her eyes. He wondered what Angelique was saying that allowed her to drop the walls she'd put in place since he'd brought her home from the hospital. Whatever it was, he had to remember to thank her when his Alexandra seemed to float to his side. Not caring who was watching, he wrapped his arm tightly around her waist and gave her a brief, hard kiss as a promise for later. Introductions with the diva were quick and stilted and both were relieved when Carlotta chose to storm off to sulk. Erik was just about to pull her back to the dance floor when the managers appeared with an unknown gentleman in tow. Well…unknown to him; Alex had stiffened and unconsciously tried to step behind him. _Curious._

"Erik!" The jovial, booming voice belonged to Andre Montgomery, one of the managers. "I'm glad you haven't left yet; it seems we have a new prospective patron. Michael Blankenship, let me introduce you to Mr. Erik Devereaux, the owner of this fine establishment and its primary composer. With him is the lovely Ms. Alexandra Roberts. Erik, Ms. Roberts, meet Mr. Blankenship, CEO of Omni Microchips."

Glancing down at the pale and unusually quiet lady at his side, Erik stepped forward to shake the man's hand. The suit, the cuff-links, even the signet ring were all designed to impress. This man had made a lot of money and wanted the world to know his value. He watched as the patron's doe-brown eyes slid over to Alex with far too much familiarity and had to restrain himself from seriously injuring a very tender part of the man's anatomy.

"Alex! I haven't seen you in ages, my dear, where have you been hiding yourself?" Michael stepped forward as if to take her hand but stopped when she stepped back from him, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared. Erik's curiosity grew. "Oh come on, you can't still be mad? That was years ago. Let me take you out to dinner and…"

"Have you lost your fucking mind, Blankenship?" The shock on Alex's face would be comical if not for the fury in her lovely green eyes. Mindless of the other guests at the ball, however, she kept her voice to a low hiss. "I wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire much less try to stomach eating at the same table with you."

"You always were a fiery one, sweet cheeks," his condescending tone had Alex grinding her teeth. Michael smirked at her heightened color. "Now what do you say we get some drinks and relive old times?"

Smothering a most unladylike curse, Alex turned and stalked to the relative sanctuary of the ladies' room. Catching his adoptive mother's eye, Erik motioned for her to follow his beloved. He had to take out the trash.

"It appears the lady doesn't want to renew your acquaintance, Blankenship." The steel in his golden voice was sharp enough to split a hair and even Michael had sense enough to recognize the menace in the tone.

"She's just playing hard to get," the man had the gall to laugh! "She'll come around like she did before. Her type always does."

Erik's hand was on Blankenship's throat holding him two inches off the floor before he could blink. Carrying him the few strides necessary, he slammed the man into the wall and held him there taking murderous delight in the many colors the man's face was turning before it took on a more purplish hue. "Listen closely to me, Blankenship," The words were the hiss of a cobra ready to strike and the fear that grew in his victim's eyes brought an equally frightening smile to his masked face. "You are not to attempt any contact with Alexandra from this day forward. No phone calls, no lunches, no casual meetings…nothing. She belongs to me now and I protect what's mine!" With a final shake to emphasize his point, Erik threw the man into a crumpled lump on floor gasping for air while he went in search of his Alexandra.

Arriving at the ladies' lounge, he knocked lightly on the door. There was the click of a lock before Angelique opened it a crack to see who it was. Relieved, she gestured for him to come inside as she closed and locked the door behind him. At the far end of the sofa, Alexandra was calmly and carefully dabbing at her hand with a damp paper towel.

"You're not supposed to be in here, Erik," like her motions, her voice was calm. Too calm. "If there is anything you are not, love, it's feminine." Erik sat beside her and noticed, for the first time, the shattered mirror above the first sink lightly splattered with blood. That explained why she was nursing her hand.

"I won't let him hurt you, _ma petite chère_. I won't let anyone hurt you ever again." He pulled her stiff body into his arms and plotted all the things he could do to one Michael Blankenship. It was many minutes before she relaxed into his embrace.

"Just…take me home, please?"

Escorting her to gather their cloaks and his hat, Erik asked Angelique to inform the management that they had been called back to the Estate unexpectedly. The older lady agreed and gave each a hug and kiss on the cheek before watching them leave. Alex was quiet as they descended the stairs to the waiting limousine which worried Erik. He'd rather she rant and rave and scream than hold it in like she was doing. Pulling her back into his lap once the limo pulled away from the opera house, he gently removed the paper that covered her hand to see what kind of damage she'd done. Relieved that there were only minor cuts that had already stopped bleeding, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and tied it around her hand just in case the wounds reopened.

"Talk to me, _ma petite chère_," Erik begged softly as she remained still and quiet in his arms. "What did that man do to hurt you so?"

"Oh, Erik," Alex sighed and laid her head on his shoulder, "it was so long ago that I thought I'd forgotten all about it. I was barely out of high school. He was my boyfriend and the first to…well, you know." His growl let her know he understood and didn't approve. "Yes, well…my parents had recently been killed, my brother was in prison, and I was lonely and gullible. Mike used that against me. And then he threw a bachelor party for a friend of his and I found out that…that…he'd _videotaped_ us. Together. And was showing the tape to his buddies during the party. He didn't even have the balls to tell me himself; I had to find out by accident. After dropping my keys and searching for them under the sofa, I found a nicely written critique of my 'performance'. I have never been so mortified or felt so violated in my life."

"I'll kill him." Erik's cold voice sent a shiver down her spine as she knew that, in his current frame of mind, he quite possibly would do just that.

"No, love, you will not," Alex kissed him softly. "He's neither worth the effort nor the consequences. But I know what you can do for me…" She eased his mask off his face with a small smile before brushing her lips across his scarred cheek. "Make me forget." Erik growled low and captured her lips in a soul-stealing kiss. He'd make her forget alright.

* * *

_A/N: Ah yes, next up...the reason behind the M rating ;)_


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own anything but a battered copy of Leroux's book, a groovy glow in the dark Phantom shirt bought at the tour, and my memories!_

* * *

**Chapter 6**

**January 1**

_Erik growled low and captured her lips in a soul-stealing kiss. He'd make her forget everything but their love and passion._

Alex surrendered eagerly to his talented lips in hopes of another glorious night in his bed. He kissed his way down her neck to nibble her shoulder and whisper softly against her skin. "I want to see you, _mon amour_, wearing nothing but the jewelry you have on now; I want to see your gorgeous hair spread out upon my pillow as you whisper my name in passion. I want to touch and taste every inch of your beautiful body and give you such pleasure that you weep from it."

She moaned her approval of his erotic words. _Good God, he was going to make her forget her own name at this rate._ Reaching under her voluminous ball gown, he tugged sharply on the lacy panties breaking the string-like band. Erik captured her mouth, his tongue darting in to taste her at the same time his fingers slid deep inside her. _God, she was so wet and eager for his touch._ Both moaned at the contact they'd been denied for so long. Tongue and fingers moved in rhythm as he urged her on to ecstasy. When he felt her stiffening in his arms, her breath coming in desperate gasps, he whispered his encouragement, begged her to let go. Kissing her deeply once more, he muffled her scream with his mouth as he felt her tight muscles contracting around his fingers. He gradually slowed his strokes to more gentle caresses as Alex came down from her orgasmic high. With a whimper of protest when he removed his hand from her body, she collapsed, drowsy and sated, against his chest. Smoothing her skirts, Erik wrapped both his arms around his love and held her close to his heart.

"God, Erik," Alex's voice was barely a whisper against his neck, "I…you…oh God." Another shudder shook her frame and, at a loss for words, she merely kissed his neck gently as he stroked her hair.

"I do hope I accomplished my goal, _mon amour_," his voice was hoarse with his own barely contained need. "Be aware, however, that is but a sample of what is to come when we arrive home." She chuckled softly and nibbled her way up his neck to lick his ear.

"I'm not sure I can survive more, love," Alex dared to run teasing fingers over the hard bulge that pressed against her thigh, "but it looks like you can."

"Alexandra…" Erik laid his head back on the seat with a groan as her fingernails scraped him through the material. "Do you know what you're doing to me, my fiery little minx? If you don't stop…"

His beautiful voice caught in his throat at the sound of the zipper slowly opening. When his manhood was finally freed of the painful constriction of his trousers, it was hard, throbbing, and eager for her touch. Erik barely kept from embarrassing himself when her small hands closed around his painfully throbbing shaft. His fingers left her hair to grip the edge of the seat when she slid from his lap to the floor. Her pale green eyes, made almost emerald with desire, locked onto his molten amber ones as she ran her tongue slowly up the length of him. The groan that left his golden throat brought heat to her body to know that she was pleasuring him as much as he had pleasured her.

Erik couldn't believe just how beautiful and erotic she looked as her lips and hands worshiped his aching member. He knew he wouldn't be able to last long if she didn't stop. Her seductive smile as she ran her tongue over the smooth skin nearly made him lose what little control he had left. She knew exactly what she was doing to him, the little tease. With a low growl, he grabbed Alex's waist and pulled her harshly to his lap. Shoving aside her many skirts, he quickly sat her astride his thighs and impaled her in one smooth motion. He could feel the bite of her nails even through his thick costume as she whimpered at the sudden invasion. And then she began to move. _Holy hell, was there anything more erotic than watching a woman riding her man to her ultimate pleasure?_ He could only watch for a few moments before his control shattered beneath her impassioned cries. Aroused to the point of madness, Erik gripped her hips and held her still as he thrust almost viciously into her warm body. When she leaned back, he released one of her hips and slipped his hand under her skirts to tease the super-sensitive bud that lay at the center of her womanly pleasure.

"Now, Alexandra!" His beautiful voice was strained but commanding. "Come for me, _mon amour_." His touch, his voice, and the relentless thrusts of his demanding shaft caused an explosion of pleasure so intense that Alex sobbed his name. It was so much, too much. With a roar, he brought her savagely down on his thick shaft until he, too, reached the ultimate peak.

Weak, shaking, and with her skin hyper-sensitive, Alex curled up against his chest and wept from more love and passion than she could hold inside. Erik stroked her hair and back with a trembling hand, planting small kisses on the crown of her head as he, too, sought to calm his raging emotions. After many long, quiet minutes of trying to steady their breathing, a tiny giggle from the red-haired beauty who still sat astride his flagging manhood had Erik tilting her chin up to his questioning gaze. When he saw that her cheeks were nearly as red as the rubies in her jewelry, he tilted his head and raised his brows in inquiry. He almost missed her soft, embarrassed whisper.

"Do you think…the driver _heard_?" Stroking her reddened cheek, he grinned at her question.

"Alexandra, _mon amour_, do you want the truth or do you want me to salvage your pride?" With a squeak of embarrassment, she scrambled off his lap (much to his dismay) and made an attempt to straighten her skirts and hair. Erik, on the other hand, took his time adjusting himself and fastening his trousers. When the limo pulled up to the house and the driver opened the door, Alex's face flamed again. She did _not_ want to look at the driver or she might simply die of embarrassment. With a chuckle, Erik stepped out and swept her into his arms, into the house, and towards the stairs to his bedroom.

**xxxx**

It took them a while to actually make it to his bedroom. Their first delay was against the front door where Erik pinned her while wrestling the skirts off her body. When Alex wrapped her legs around his waist and returned his heated kisses with enthusiasm, he unzipped his trousers and released his aching manhood to bury it deep inside her warm, intoxicating body. It was fast and explosive and pure heaven. Remaining inside her, Erik carried her up the stairs as his fingers worked at the laces of her bodice. He discarded the offending material carelessly and lowered his mouth to one rock hard nipple. Alex's guttural moan set his very blood aflame and he felt himself hardening once more. _Would he ever grow tired of having her?_ With a growl of animalistic desire, he feverishly removed the rest of her clothing as they stumbled the rest of the way to his room. He undressed in record time and quickly buried himself in her warm, wet body once more. Their coupling was heated, rushed, and nearly violent in its intensity.

"Mmm…mine," As they drifted down from the exhilaration of their lovemaking, Alex's soft voice was little more than a drowsy whisper against his bare neck.

"As you are mine, _mon amour_," Erik laid a light kiss on her forehead, brushing her damp hair from her eyes. "I do believe, however, that you are missing a piece of the jewelry set I purchased for you." His glowing golden eyes betrayed just the barest hint of his nervousness as he watched her check the earrings, necklace, and bracelet she still wore.

"Oh no! Wait…what do you mean, Erik? They're all here."

Reaching under his pillow, his hand shook as it closed on the ring he'd hidden there before leaving for the ball. He rose to one elbow to gaze lovingly down at this woman who'd made him whole once more. Erik kept the ring hidden as he ran a gentle finger along the line of her jaw, down her neck, across one delectable breast, and to her left hand. His voice shook as he slid the ring onto her finger. "You're missing the ring, _mon amour_."

"Erik?" Alex's eyes widened as she felt the cold metal slide over her finger. Was this what she thought it was? Please God, yes.

"I love you, _ma petite chère_," he lifted her hand to his lips to place a kiss just below the ring that sparkled there. "I think I have since that first day in the Library when you quickly put me in my place. You understand my music, stand up to my temper, and even seem to accept my horror of a face. You fill my heart with laughter and my bed with passion and love and I would be honored if you would agree to share a home, a love, a lifetime with me." Erik gazed down at the woman who could bring him misery or ecstasy with her next words and didn't even try to hide the fear in his eyes. "Be my wife, Alexandra?"

"Oh God, yes!" Tears of joy were rolling down her cheeks as she brought their joined hands closer so she could return his sweet caress on his own elegant fingers. "I knew you were something special the moment I met you, my love. You are so talented, so intelligent, and so incredibly sexy that I wanted you with a desperation that unnerved me. You drew me to you like a flame does a moth and oh how I gloried in the burn. To share a lifetime with you wouldn't be nearly long enough but it will have to do for now."

Tears and laughter mingled together as they sealed their vow with happy kisses. Alex desperately wished to see the ring, however, and pulled away to sit up and switch on the bedside lamp. Erik sat up to lean back against the headboard and watched her with a smile. Her jaw dropped to see the bedroom filled with bouquets of roses on every conceivable surface. Even the bed was covered in petals that, in their enthusiasm, she'd failed to notice until now. A strong but gentle hand nudged her jaw closed and she turned to Erik with fresh tears in her eyes.

"When did you do all this?"

"Today while you were chatting with Lizzie." He cupped her cheek and caressed the soft skin with his thumb. "I wanted tonight to be perfect for you, _mon amour_. I wanted so desperately for you to say yes."

"How could I say anything else when I've loved you for so long?" Moving to sit between his thighs, Alex lay with her back to his chest and admired the ruby and diamond ring. She sighed happily when his arms wrapped around her waist and held her in a gentle embrace. "It's beautiful, Erik."

"So are you, _mon amour_, so are you." Happily exhausted, the couple slid down amongst the rose petals as sleep took them into its comforting embrace.

**xxxx**

In the cold, stark hospital room of a maximum security federal penitentiary a male patient awaited his doctor's routine visit with a little surprise of his own. As the man approached the bedside to read one of the monitors, the patient – supposedly in a drug-induced coma – grabbed him by the throat, wrestled the pen from his hand, and buried it several inches into the doctor's left eye. He quickly removed the white coat before it could be stained with blood, grabbed the clipboard and ID badge and threw the doctor onto the cot. Whistling a jaunty tune, the patient waved to the tired guards at the door and bid them a good night before turning the corner and ducking into the supply closet. There, hidden behind a false wall, was the entrance to the tunnel that would lead him to freedom. And vengeance.

* * *

_A/N: Finally! Everyone cheer for Alex and Erik! Ah, but who has escaped the prison hospital? Stay tuned for more! Oh, and I know this is early but who cares? I wanted to post it :D_


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: Don't own anything relating to Phantom and not making money off of it :D _

* * *

**Chapter 7**

**January 1**

Swatting at something tickling her arm, Alex frowned and grumbled in her sleep. When the light, tickling sensation came again, this time across her bare breasts, she muttered something unsavory and rolled over to press against a warm body. Confused, she opened her eyes to see a man's very muscular, very naked chest mere inches from her face. She let her gaze roam appreciatively before looking into the golden eyes of her lover. _Her fiancé_. Her smile was radiant. A gentle hand guided her to her back where Erik once more began to trace her naked body with one long stemmed red rose. The touch, so light it was frustrating, had her whimpering and begging for more. Golden eyes a-glow, Erik was more than happy to accommodate her wishes.

Much later, she staggered off to take a shower while Erik started the coffee and found them something to eat. Letting the cool water run down her heated body, Alex lathered up and began to wash when the door opened and large, strong hands took the sponge to take over her bathing. Soapy and slick, her body slid against his as she leaned back onto his chest to give him better access to all her womanly delights. And access them he did. Talented fingers that could coax the purest of sounds from any instrument now coaxed passion's song from Alex's lips. With one arm holding her tight against him as his hand twisted and teased her nipple, Erik's other hand had snaked between her thighs to stroke and caress her to ecstasy. Shuddering and leaning heavily against his body, she tried to find the strength to finish her shower but her legs simply wouldn't cooperate. If she hadn't been so damn happy and sated she'd wipe that smug smirk off his face. Instead, she simply gave him a kiss that curled his toes and stumbled out to wrap a towel around her and hunt down the coffee she smelled.

Alex was sitting in the bed wearing his white costume shirt from the ball and worshiping her coffee when Erik sauntered out of the bathroom. Her heart jumped into her throat and her entire body pulsed with desire; he was naked, damp, and half-hard from their bath time rendezvous. "Erik," though she attempted to be stern, it came out as more of a breathy whisper of appreciation than scolding, "do cover yourself. I need to eat and rest a bit and you are simply too entirely delectable for words." Immediately concerned, he wrapped a towel around his waist and sat by her side.

"Have I over-tired you, Alexandra? Are you feeling well?" He tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear before cupping her cheek.

"No, my virile love, you haven't over-tired me and yes, I'm feeling well. Wonderful in fact. Just starving and a tad…sore." She couldn't stop her blush so tried to hide it in her coffee mug. She grew even redder at his chuckle. "Oh, shut up." Her giggle removed any force from her words and they settled down to breakfast in joyful contentment.

After breakfast, he retreated to the Music Room and she returned to the Library to see if she'd gotten any replies back on the job search website. Alex was writing down all the pertinent information in order to set up several interviews when Erik stepped behind her. She noticed his frown when he saw she was once again checking job sites and sighed.

"What's wrong, Erik?" She reached up and placed a hand over his where it rested on her shoulder.

"You're looking for a job? I thought you had one, _ma petite_."

"I know and I'd love to work at the opera house. But I have a student loan to repay and a car to pay off and…" She stopped when he kissed her quickly and placed a large manila envelope on the desk in front of her. "What's this, my love?" She eyed the envelope with suspicion.

"Open it and see, Alexandra." His smile was hidden in the curve of her neck where he was placing feather light kisses.

"If you don't stop that, I won't be able to do much of anything but drag you back upstairs." He chuckled softly and moved to perch on the corner of the desk, watching her with a faint smile.

Alex looked at the envelope which was blank other than her name. The handwriting was elegant and refined and indisputably Erik's. Glancing up at him revealed little; his eyes were intense and focused on her but there was a certain glow of excitement about him now that confused her. Frowning, she pulled a large stack of papers from the envelope and began to rifle through them. Starting over, Alex slowly looked through them once more before staring at Erik with shock.

"When…? Why…?"

"Alexandra," he set the papers aside and took her hands in his, "do you remember when you were in the hospital and I went to your apartment to gather your belongings and close the lease? Your landlady turned over your mail that had been collecting since you first stayed at my Estate. As I was sorting the obvious junk mail from items that needed to be dealt with in a timely manner, I came across the notification that your student loan payments would be due to begin soon."

"But…Erik…this is too much…" He leaned forward and silenced her with a brief kiss.

"Let me continue, _ma petite chère_. While you were laying in that hospital room fighting for your life, I felt so helpless. I could do nothing for you there other than stay beside you and hope that you'd awaken. But this," Erik nodded at the stack of papers, "this was something I could do. The money means nothing next to your piece of mind and recovery. I am wealthy after all and have little to spend it on. Let me spoil you, Alexandra." His last words were soft, almost pleading, and Alex's pride crumbled under her fervent desire to make him happy. Putting the papers away for now, she rose from the desk and closed the distance between them to hold him close.

"You never cease to amaze me, my love." A wicked smile crossed her face as she reached over and closed the laptop. She was already unbuttoning his shirt when she whispered against his lips, "However shall I repay you?"

"I'm sure we can think of something," Erik chuckled as he lifted her into his arms and carried her back to his bedroom.

**xxxx**

The meeting in the office of the CEO of Omni Microchips ran so late that the secretary was beginning to worry. There were others, clients and business partners, waiting to see Michael Blankenship and yet he'd been sequestered with this unknown visitor for several hours. Apologizing once more to those waiting, she dialed the office to see if she could find out when the meeting would be finished. She needed something to tell those who were still waiting. By the fifteenth ring, she gave up and asked if they would like to reschedule. The business partners did; the clients did not.

Inside the office, Blankenship was hoping the meeting would finish soon as well. He'd not spoken to Robert Chaney in over three years and had hoped he'd not ever have to again. This morning, however, he'd received the phone call and cleared his morning calendar and now he was staring into those cold, dead eyes as he received his orders. His orders! For three years, he'd been CEO of Omni; he didn't take orders from anyone. But then Chaney had placed several files on his desk: photographs, bank statements, the actual toxicology report of his father's death, everything that had put him in that office lay before his eyes and he knew he had no choice.

The initial assignment had been delivered by telephone not long after Christmas. He was to rekindle his old relationship with Alexandra Roberts, pulling her away from Erik Devereaux. Blankenship, not one for the arts, had never heard of the masked composer but felt confident Alex would come back to him. He was rich, handsome, wealthy, good in bed, and had a wonderful career; what had happened when they were barely out of high school was nothing more than a prank. Surely she understood that now that they were older? So, he played at being overawed by the theater, promised a hefty check should he be impressed, and arranged to get invited to the masquerade ball at the opera house.

That was when things failed to go according to plan. Alex had been…less than thrilled to see him at the ball and refused to even talk civilly. Chaney was entirely unsympathetic with his failure and stressed the importance of separating the two. She didn't have to actually form an attachment to Blankenship, he just had to convince the composer she had. Devereaux seemed the jealous type, controlling and unforgiving. Maybe he should poke a bit at that jealousy? Several years ago, he'd converted all his VHS tapes to digital format on his computer. With a little bit of manipulation…oh yes, he'd make Devereaux quite jealous indeed. When he dropped Alex, Blankenship would be there waiting to pick up the pieces and bring her back where she belonged. Chaney had been satisfied with the plan but warned him not to let it go too long before implementation. He needed them both distracted and at odds quickly.

Blankenship knew he'd need help on this project; his expertise wasn't in video manipulation. Thankfully, he'd recently discovered one of his employees was a heavy gambler and was now embezzling in order to cover his losses. This man would help him create the videos or face both jail as well as the leg-breakers the mob bosses would send for reneging on his bets. Now to decide how to ensure Devereaux saw them…

**xxxx**

Carla Goldman was angry. No, she was more than angry; she was furious and everything in her dressing room that could break had paid the price. For two years she'd been trying to bed the elusive Erik Devereaux but he always declined. Oh, he was disgustingly polite about it, citing an abhorrence for workplace relationships, needing to dedicate all his free time to his latest composition, even saying he wouldn't want to distract her during rehearsals. Lies, lies, lies! Instead, he was banging that red-haired nobody who the Girys fawned over like she was the freaking Queen of England. There was no way she was letting this person take Erik from her. He was hers and was always meant to be hers. She just needed to make Erik see the truth.

The crunch of glass under her feet was ignored while she plotted a way to rip the very powerful, very wealthy Devereaux away from Alex. She'd watched the two closely and it was clear the woman was crazy for him but no one could read the composer's true feelings even without the costume mask. Perhaps it was one sided? A smile began to form on her lips for the first time that night; a most unpleasant smile. The ginger twit would be working at the opera house. If she just happened to walk in while Carla was providing Erik with a bit of mid-day sexual relief…

**xxxx**

Detective Da'ud al-Zahir had been retired for nearly a month. After the incidents in October, he'd decided he was too old to go chasing after criminals; besides, he didn't heal as fast as he once did in his younger days. His face bore more lines than before and his black hair was peppered with grey. Some said it made him look distinguished; he thought it simply made him look old. His heritage had also started to create problems in the precinct that he simply didn't want to address. Rather than continue to work in a hostile environment both outside the station as well as in, he turned in his paperwork and was gone by Christmas. He had invested well since his days in the Agency and, though he could never hope to match Devereaux's wealth, he could live quite comfortably without having to put his life on the line. He'd also met a lady who he wished to pursue and didn't want to expose her to the dangers that are always present in a policeman's life. Now if he could just gather the nerve to call her…

He was reading his morning newspaper when the telephone rang. Something told him that he didn't want to answer it; he had a gut feeling he'd not like what he'd hear. When the answering machine picked up, the caller simply hung up and immediately called back. Urgent, then. Sighing, he checked the caller ID and groaned at seeing the police commissioner's phone number. Didn't these people understand what retired meant?

"Yes, Commissioner?" As he listened, his annoyance turned to shock and then concern. Raoul de Chagny had escaped.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**January 5**

It had taken much longer to pack than it should have but they kept getting distracted. At least, that's what Alex called it. Erik simply felt they needed to take a break every so often so she could rest. She had tried to point out that while these breaks did, indeed, take place on a bed there wasn't much rest involved but Erik waved away her concerns as mere technicalities. After packing for most of the day, and taking several breaks to 'rest,' the couple had retreated to the Library for dinner and conversation. The chime signaling a message from the front gate put an annoyed frown on both their faces until they recognized their guest as Da'ud. Eager to share their news with him, Erik cleared him through the gate while Alex started another pot of coffee.

The former detective was ecstatic that his two friends had finally admitted their feelings to each other and honored that Erik had asked him to stand as best man. He admired Alex's ring and they spent half an hour discussing possible wedding scenarios, from the romantic to the truly ridiculous. With great reluctance, Da'ud shifted the conversation to the reason he'd driven out to the Estate. He regretted tainting the happy atmosphere but the couple needed to know that their danger wasn't yet over.

"While I'm happy that you two thick-headed dummies finally got together, I'm afraid I came to discuss something far less pleasant." Erik gave him a mock glare for his good natured insult while Alex stuck out her tongue. Neither was prepared for his next words. "Raoul de Chagny, also known as Stanislav Zakharov, killed his doctor and escaped from the hospital ward of the federal prison on New Year's Eve. All law enforcement agencies are on full alert for the hunt but I knew the two of you needed to be warned."

The news was initially met with shocked silence; for months, they'd thought the danger was behind them. Alex was doubly upset as no one had informed her that Raoul had survived that night. Logically, she knew they'd kept the news from her so the fear and stress wouldn't hinder her recovery but fear doesn't allow for logic.

"Why wasn't I told?" Her voice was barely over a whisper.

"He wasn't expected to survive his injury, _ma petite_," Erik wrapped an arm around her waist but she stood abruptly and walked to the window. "I did not want you worrying about this man while you were struggling to heal, Alexandra."

"What else have you kept from me, Erik?" She spun around only to take a step back when she found him directly behind her. Anger born of fear had placed her on the attack. "I am not a child that you have to hide the truth from me for my own good!"

"You are certainly playing the role to perfection." Erik's amber eyes flashed dangerously as his own temper sprang to life. _Dammit, he'd only been trying to protect her! Why couldn't she see that?_ "You were in the hospital fighting for survival. The last thing you needed when you awoke was to be told that Zakharov was still alive."

"And what about all the time I've been home? Why wasn't I told then? I had a right to know, Erik!"

"There never seemed to be a good time to broach the subject!" His anger was dampened slightly when she called the Estate 'home.' But only slightly. "He was in prison; you were getting better. There was no point!"

"Of course there was a point! He hates you, Erik! Do you think he's going to go after you directly? No, he'll come after me and use me against you again and it'll never be over until one of you is dead and…" Bordering on hysterics, Alex burst into tears. Holding her tightly against him, Erik rubbed her back soothingly. "I'm so scared, love. If he wins, if he takes you from me, I'll die. I can't live without you, Erik." Her words were muffled by his shirt and her tears but he heard and understood; he felt the same way.

"He will never take me from you, Alexandra, _ma petite chère_. We have a lifetime ahead of us, remember? You promised me and I'm holding you to it, _mon amour_." Guiding her back to the sofa, he sat and pulled her onto his lap while he continued to soothe her fears.

Da'ud, uncomfortable after bringing such horrible news to his friends when they were finally happy, offered to help in the only way he knew how. "Erik, though I'm no longer with the police, I maintain a concealed carry permit. If you'd like me to stay with Alex while you are at the theatre…?"

"Thank you, my friend. I may very well take you up on that."

Alex slowly sat up and wiped her eyes though she made no effort to extract herself from either Erik's arms or his lap. As she listened to the two men discuss not only her safety but the safety of all at the opera house, she kept a firm grip on her fear and examined the situation as she knew it. Raoul would want leverage against Erik which naturally put her at risk along with his adoptive family. She couldn't rely on someone else to help her all the time. She was stronger than this. She had training, though she was a bit rusty, and it was time she used it.

**xxxx**

He cursed the weakness of his body. Though he knew he'd come as close to death's door as ever he'd been, Raoul de Chagny also knew he was losing the very valuable element of surprise while nearly incapacitated. He hated relying on flunkies to do his work for him for they never did it correctly. Case in point, one Michael Blankenship. The man had said he was an old high school boyfriend of Devereaux's woman but failed to mention the video he'd shot of the two of them. Nor did he mention the fact that he'd circulated it amongst his drinking buddies. Luring the Roberts bitch away from Devereaux had just become all the more difficult. Killing her wouldn't do either; he didn't want a man like Le Fantôme to be left with nothing to live for.

He needed another angle other than the woman. Blankenship's report of the masquerade didn't help much as Devereaux only spoke to those directly involved with the opera house: the ballet mistress and her daughter, the managers, and the lead soprano. Adjusting himself on the bed with a curse, Raoul pulled over the table that held his laptop and began researching those the masked man knew. Perhaps one of them could provide him with an inside set of eyes and ears or even become the leverage he sought.

He needed Devereaux in his grasp and under his control. Failure to recruit the Roberts family had left a black stain on his record that did little to endear him to his current bosses. The death of his lover, Christine Daaé, would have been heartbreaking if he had one but the loss didn't compare to her preference of that freak over him. He'd deliver Devereaux but he was going to have some fun with him first.

As he scrolled through files and made some notes, he was pleased to have several options before him. The Giry's were Devereaux's adoptive family? Lovely. Raoul grinned wickedly. The young Megan Giry was petite and beautiful while the mother reminded him of a stern grammar school teacher. That placed one in the seduce column and the other in the torture/kill column. He couldn't find any other connection between Devereaux and the managers beyond the opera house so he made a note to check into their financial records. Hopefully, one of them had an exploitable vice; if not, they were expendable. Finally, there was the soprano: Carla Goldman…or rather Carlotta Guidicelli as she preferred to be known. The photographs of the masquerade weren't kind to the singer; the harsh lighting enhancing rather than concealing the signs of aging. Looking through older articles concerning the opera house, he found something quite interesting. Up until the Roberts woman appeared in the masked man's life, 'Carlotta' was often his escort. Well, well, well…hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, they always say. He picked up the telephone to invite her for lunch.

**xxxx**

Carlotta entered the restaurant and requested the table that had been reserved in her name. She was slightly disappointed but not surprised to find it empty; the man on the phone had stressed the need for caution and discretion. The mystery combined with a hint of danger had sent a thrill down her spine and she had eagerly agreed to a meeting. Following his instructions, she took her seat and ordered a glass of wine while stealing surreptitious glances around the room. When the waiter returned with her glass, he also bore an envelope with a simple message: Go to the ladies' room. I will catch your attention on the way and you will join me once you've emerged. Taking a sip from her glass, the soprano stood, grabbed her purse, and gracefully wove her way between the tables towards the lounge. As she passed a crowded table, a note was pressed into her hand; wisely, she continued to walk until she was ensconced in the privacy of a stall. Reading the note, she threw it into the toilet, flushed, washed her hands, touched up her make up, and then went to join the mysterious Robert Chaney.

The table that had been crowded on her initial pass was now empty but for a single figure. He wore casual khaki slacks, a pale blue polo, and loafers and carried a practiced air of indifferent scorn for all in the building. With a single smooth move, Carlotta took the seat opposite him and was pleased to see that he was as handsome as he was intriguing. The pale blue eyes and deliberately tousled hair leant him an air of boyish innocence that was diminished by the hint of cruelty in the set of his jaw. Perhaps this would be more fun than she'd originally hoped.

She could feel his appraising gaze and smirked slightly. She'd chosen an outfit that matched her eyes perfectly and clung to her slim, toned frame. If some of the sleek curves were a result of a nip here and a tuck there, she felt justified in order to reverse the effects of aging and a harsh youth of parties, drinks, and men. Her skin was flawless and unlined, thanks in part to the wonders of Botox, and her long red nails were as fake as the perky breasts that nearly spilled from the low neckline of her top. A glass of wine appeared in front of her and she watched her table companion over the rim as she sipped.

"So, Signor Chaney, what can La Carlotta do for you, hmm?"

"For one, drop the atrocious fake accent." Chaney smiled and leaned forward; Carlotta shuddered. "I'm quite aware that you're Carla Goldman from some shithole in Jersey, that you ran away from home when you were fifteen, and that you took up prostitution and stripping in order to pay your way onto the stage. I know that you've dabbled in nearly every drug on the market – prescription as well as recreational – and have developed a particular fondness for cocaine." His smile actually reached his eyes as she paled. "I also know that you have an inexplicable fondness for the composer, Devereaux, and would love to see him and his little red-haired whore separated. Am I not correct, _signora_?" He stressed the title with a voice heavily laden with derision and a smirk upon his handsome face.

"Since we're laying our cards on the table, then I have to correct you on a few things. Cocaine had begun to damage my voice and so I had to change to alternative forms of entertainment. Also, I have no interest in Erik Devereaux beyond his bank statement and his status in society; two things I will need as I grow older." She took another sip of wine as she watched the man before her and wondered what his angle was. He didn't seem the type who'd go for the rather plain girl who'd accompanied the composer to the masquerade but he also didn't seem to be the type who'd go for the composer himself. If she could figure out he was getting out of all of this, she could possibly negotiate a better deal for herself.

"Very well, that's a motivation I can respect." Chaney leaned back with his elbows on the arms of the chair and his steepled fingers against his chin. "I believe we can be mutually beneficial, Ms. Goldman. You want Devereaux and the Roberts harlot separated as do I; together we should be able to make it happen, don't you think?" Carlotta nodded, a cruel smile playing about her lips. Devereaux would be hers.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**January 10**

They had settled comfortably into Erik's apartments beneath the Metropolitan Opera and Ballet and Alex found all the preparations prior to auditions and rehearsals quite fascinating. In the early mornings, she and Erik would gather at one of the practice rooms where he'd refresh her self-defense training as well as show her new things he felt she should learn. So far, all she'd learned (in her opinion) was just how very many muscles she hadn't used in ages that were now screaming in agony and protest. After lunch, Da'ud would escort her to the firing range where she'd practice her marksmanship with the Beretta as well as a variety of other common hand guns. Neither man wanted her to be comfortable with only one kind of weapon.

Rehearsals were still in the earliest stages of choreography which made for long days and short tempers. Erik prowled around the opera house with a permanent scowl which had most of the stagehands and ballet corps scampering away in fear any time he stalked down the halls near them. Even the principals weren't spared from his wrath and, before the end of the second day, Carlotta had thrown a royal tantrum and Madame Giry had threatened to beat him over the head with her cane. Alex was thankful for her time at the firing range and with Charles Wilkinson, the Lead Set Designer, as she was certain she and Erik would have been at each other's throats rather quickly.

Charles had been an excellent teacher, both in the area of set design as well as art in general. She was amazed at all that went into what she'd always considered to be an 'easy' job. He showed her the original design storyboards and the process used to take the ideas from the paper to the stage. Alex helped with drawing the scaled up versions of the last few set pieces, careful to keep size ratios as accurate as she could. It took her two days and an extreme amount of paper before Charles was satisfied with both the size and the quality of a single piece. When she questioned why a computer program with a plotter wasn't used, Charles gave her a look of horrified disdain. She didn't ask again.

**January 17**

A week had passed and Alex was no longer sore from sparring with Erik in the mornings, on her last week of weapon safety classes prior to getting her CCW permit renewed, and had completed one set piece from start to finish to Charles' satisfaction. No one had heard from de Chagny/Zakharov but neither had the authorities managed to track him down which added additional stress to many in the opera house. And just to make things _infinitely better_, Michael Blankenship had claimed the rights of a patron to watch rehearsals. Erik had been in the process of throwing him out of the theater when the managers arrived and persuaded him otherwise. Angered beyond belief, her masked lover had stalked off and terrorized the ballet corps while they practiced. Alex was certain that several of them quit afterwards.

She'd finished early at the range and was sitting in the back row enjoying rehearsal when Blankenship strolled over and took a seat directly beside her. Alex could feel angry color rising in her cheeks but, not wishing to cause a scene and interrupt those on stage, did her best to ignore him. Of course, he wasn't in the mood to be ignored.

"Hey sweet cheeks, fancy seeing you here," he reached for her hand but she snatched it away like she'd touched something disgusting. He merely laughed. "Do you work here or something?" Alex nearly rolled her eyes at his oblivious persistence.

"Yes."

"Yes?" His confusion was priceless. If she hadn't already pictured throwing him in front of a speeding bus before, she leaped on the vision with ghoulish glee. "So, which is it? You can't just answer an either/or question with a 'yes,' doll."

"One, my name is Alexandra; not doll, not sweet cheeks, nor any other disgusting and degrading name you choose to use." Alex turned her icy pale green eyes on her unwanted companion and barely managed to keep her voice low as she vented her displeasure. "Two, the answer applies to both of your unwanted, prying questions. Yes, I work here as a set designer. Yes, I also have other reasons to be here. The primary one being my fiancé, Erik Devereaux."

"Fiancé? The sour-faced thing with the freaky eyes is your fiancé? Really, angel face, you could do better." Had Blankenship known her better, he'd have realized that he'd just crossed over from being annoying to being in very grave danger of her wrath.

"Get. Out." Alex stood, her hands clenched tightly into fists that so dearly wanted to connect with his smug face. "Erik is a wonderful, generous person and is worth a hundred of you even on his worst days. Now go away and leave me alone or I will do something rash and interrupt their rehearsal which I dearly do not wish to do."

"Fine, fine. If you want to play hard to get, that's alright by me. I love a good chase." Blankenship grinned with unconcerned assurance. "But you may want to rethink the engagement to the golden-eyed monster, sweet cheeks. I saw him and his leading lady playing 'tickle the tonsils' in his office just yesterday while he had a firm hold on her curves, if you get my meaning." He rose unhurriedly and gave a slight shrug. "If you like sharing your toys then who am I to argue? Maybe you'll even get to watch once, hmm?" Chuckling, he wandered out of the theater leaving a very shocked Alex in his wake.

Slowly, she sat back down but her mind was racing. Blankenship was lying; he had to be. Erik wouldn't do something like that. He loved her! He didn't care anything about Carlotta; Mrs. Giry said so. _Yes_, whispered an evil little voice, _she said so, but did he? You saw how he welcomed her touch, her kiss, and they have so much in common, don't they?_ No, no, no! He wouldn't do something like that to her. He wouldn't! He wouldn't….would he? Watching the rehearsal with renewed interest, Alex saw her fiancé approach the statuesque singer, lean down, and whisper something in her ear causing that lady to laugh and place a hand possessively on his arm. Her heart was breaking when Carlotta leaned forward to whisper her reply and, catching Alex's eyes with her own glowing in triumph, kissed Erik softly on the cheek. With a muffled sob, Alex bolted from the theater with Carlotta's annoying laughter in her ears.

**xxxx**

Feeling the brush of Carlotta's lips on his skin, Erik jerked back as if he'd been burned. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Ms. Goldman?" Furious eyes glared down into her oddly triumphant ones as he hissed his anger. "If you have forgotten, I happen to have a fiancée and you are not she."

"Really, Erik? No one pays attention to that sort of thing in theater." Carlotta shrugged unconcerned and stepped back. "Besides, I just saw your fiancée leave with your new patron. Trying to secure a donation, maestro?" Only once he'd turned to stalk off the stage in search of Alexandra did Carlotta allow herself a malicious grin. "You will be mine, Erik Devereaux." Her soft murmur was lost in the orchestra's warm up exercises.

The scowl on his face sent the performers scurrying out of his path as he stalked through the halls looking for his fiancée. Logically, he knew he had nothing to worry about. Alexandra loved him, had chosen him, and would never betray him in such a way. But there was always that doubt, that fear, that she'd one day regret tying herself to a monster and seek to sever the bonds between them. He stormed into their apartments looking for a fight only to find it empty. With a frustrated growl, Erik checked each of the practice rooms, the costume room, set storage and design…all empty. Anger was fading to worry the longer he couldn't find her; what if Zakharov had taken her? Heading for his office, he nearly ran over Angelique in his distraction.

"Erik François Devereaux!" His adoptive mother's furious tone and use of his full name gave him a moment's pause. Turning to meet her gaze, he suddenly felt thirteen again and wondered what he'd done this time. "You and I have to talk, _mon_ _fils_, and I don't want to hear that you're busy or any other such nonsense." Grabbing his arm, the ballet mistress pulled him into her office and closed the door behind them.

"What's wrong, _maman_, and do make it quick. I'm looking for Alexandra."

"Oh, I'm sure you are now that you're done with your little tart on stage. _Mon Dieu_, Erik, why would you dally with that…that _woman_ when you have someone as lovely and sweet as Alex?" Erik looked at her like she had grown a second head with poison dripping from its fangs and having snakes for hair.

"What?"

"Erik, I am not a fool so don't treat me like one. You were seen kissing and groping Carla in your office and later Alex saw you both in a rather intimate embrace _on stage_." Angelique paced the small office to relieve frustrated energy before she took it out on her son. "What I don't understand is why you'd hurt her that way? And in front of everyone at the theater!"

"Have you lost your mind? I've never kissed that woman nor have I groped her in my office or anywhere else! Whoever told you that little fairytale has got a sick imagination. I can barely tolerate her, _maman_, you know that! I was looking for Alex since she decided to run off with a man she claimed to loathe; her bastard of an ex-boyfriend."

Angelique was silent as she stared thoughtfully into his clear amber eyes. Erik was an excellent liar but he'd never been able to lie to her, not even after he'd started working for the Agency. Something was very wrong here and she had a feeling she knew just what it was.

"Did you see Alex leave with Blankenship?"

"I saw her talking with him and the next time I looked up they were both gone."

"But you said she'd 'run off' with him; couldn't they have left separately since you didn't see them leave?"

"What are you getting at, _maman_? They were seen leaving together." Erik held his temper in check but just barely. He'd never forgive himself if he took his anger out on his mother but he saw no point in these senseless inquiries.

"Seen by whom? Let me guess…would it be the same woman who's tried to get you in her bed for the past three years? The very same woman who deliberately gave her rival flavored water before a performance knowing the girl was allergic to the flavoring? Or perhaps the same woman who…"

"Yes, it was Carlotta…" his voice trailed off and his eyes narrowed slightly. "Who told you I had been seen with her, _maman_?"

"Alex told me she'd seen you on stage but the person who saw you and Carla in your office was…"

"Blankenship." Erik interrupted in a cold voice. "It seems we are being played, _maman_. I need to speak with Alexandra and quickly; she may be in danger."

* * *

_A/N: I'm not sure how well I like the next few chapters but I've read and re-read them and still can't figure out how to make them better and still advance the story in the way I need to. So, if these next few suck, then know that I know :)_


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**January 17**

Sitting atop the Metropolitan, Alex watched the traffic and the lights below her and wondered if the people she could see scurrying about had it as difficult as she. She thought things would be so much easier now that they were engaged. He loved her, she loved him, why then couldn't they move on to the 'happily ever after' part? Wiping the last of the tears from her cheeks, she huddled deeper into the thick coat and thought of what she'd seen on the stage that afternoon. Yes, Erik had been closer to the diva than Alex would have liked but, when he wasn't yelling at them, he'd spoken to all the principals in the same manner. Individual pep talks geared towards the actors' likes and dislikes; sometimes going so far as to use their feelings for their fellow performers in an effort to get the emotion he wanted. Was she being foolish and creating problems where none existed? Angelique seemed to think so. The only way to know for certain would be to confront Erik but she didn't think he'd appreciate the lack of trust her questions would reveal. Sighing, Alex buried her face in her knees.

"It's rather cold up here don't you think, _ma petite chère_?" Erik's golden voice washed over her and surrounded her with its warmth just seconds before his arms followed suit. He lifted her from the statue she'd been using as a seat and, taking her place there, sat her on his lap.

"Yes, it is." Alex could feel his body heat through the layers that separated skin from skin and snuggled close. "I needed to think, that's all, and the view is quite amazing from up here."

"Hmm…" Erik's noncommittal answer seemed to encompass more than just mere acknowledgment of what she'd said and she risked a glance at his face. In the darkness, only his eyes were visible and glowing a fiery orange that signaled he was angry or upset at something. "Would you care to share your thoughts, my dear? If they were important enough to send you to the roof where _you were alone and out of my sight_, then it is obviously something that needs be discussed."

"N…no, Erik," Alex winced at the tightly controlled anger in his voice. "It's nothing that you need to worry about, love."

"Nothing I need to worry about? Oh, but I beg to differ, Alexandra!" When she tried to move from his lap, he tightened his grip until it bordered on painful. "You will remain until we are finished! Running away from this won't make it go away and we will discuss this, _petite_."

"There's nothing to discuss, Erik, now let me go!"

"Never, so cease your struggling." In an effort to hold her still, his hands slipped into her coat where one closed at first accidentally but then possessively around a breast. Alex hissed from the contact, shivering for more reasons than the weather, and tried not to melt against him. When he murmured softly into her ear between the softest of kisses and love bites, she knew her efforts were in vain as she relaxed against him. "Much better, _ma petite_. Now, you will tell me what had you scurrying up here and away from my protection and don't say it was nothing. I can see the remnants of tears on your lovely face."

"I was simply foolish, love, and let my fears run away with my common sense. I know things are different in the theater world; it just takes some adjusting, that's all."

"What kinds of things are different, Alexandra?" She tilted her head to the side when he left her ear to rain a trail of kisses along her neck. _Why must they talk about insignificant things when they could be doing something infinitely more enjoyable?_

"Things…Erik…" Alex whimpered softly when his hand eased under her sweater to unclasp her bra granting him full access. With his teasing fingers and lips, she was having trouble remembering where she was, much less why she'd come here. "Things like relationships, touching, kissing…the theater is more open than I'm used to." She'd tensed in eager anticipation when his other hand joined the first beneath her sweater before beginning a slow, torturous trek down the flat plane of her stomach towards her waistband that suddenly halted at her words.

"Alexandra," her name was a dangerous growl on his lips and she knew without a doubt that she'd angered him somehow. "Just what are you accusing me of, _ma petite_?"

"Nothing, Erik, nothing at all. I'm sure it was just a silly rumor anyway; you know how it goes."

"A rumor. A rumor you believed enough to abandon common sense and protection in order to 'think' on the roof. A rumor you believed enough that you didn't even allow me the opportunity to know of what crime I was accused in order to defend against it. You will tell me this rumor, Alexandra." When she shook her head, he tightened his hold to the point of pain once again.

"It's nothing, Erik, really."

"Then you shouldn't be so reluctant to enlighten me, is that not correct? I will have my answers, Alexandra."

"I didn't believe it at first. I didn't want to but then…then I saw you. And her. And…" The image of the diva's triumphant smirk as she kissed him flashed before her once more and she could feel her own temper start to rise. "I saw you! Whispering in her ear and letting her touch you and kiss you and…dammit, Erik, stop laughing at me!"

"I shouldn't laugh, _petite_, but if you only knew how desperate I'd have to be to even entertain the mere thought of bedding Carla Goldman..." He buried his face in the warm, sensitive skin at the junction of her neck and shoulder before biting her none too gently there. "Let me guess…you were told I had been caught in a compromising embrace in my office with that very same diva and, after seeing what you thought was more of the same on stage, you believed I would risk everything by cheating on you.

"Did I cover everything or did I leave something out? Oh yes, I left out that I very nearly threw that same diva across the stage when she dared presume to lavish her affections where they were not wanted. Did you wait to see that before you'd condemned me as a rotten, cheating bastard? Did you ever once think to ask me about the incident in my office which, by the way, never occurred? Why, Alexandra, would you believe such slanderous lies?" By the time he was finished, laughter had given way to insulted pride and he was shaking her to make his point.

"Because she's everything I could never be!" Again she struggled to flee and again she was held fast. "She's beautiful and talented and a part of your world and your life in a way that I am not. Music is at the heart of everything you do, Erik, everything you are. You walk with such grace that I wonder if you're not hearing something the rest of us can't. You compose and sing like an angel sent straight from heaven and, as much as I'd like to, I can't understand it like she can. I can't share that love with you. I can listen, yes, but I can never be a part of it. But she can…" Alex fell silent, cursing herself for losing control and telling him one of her biggest fears. Well, apart from living a life without him, that is.

"Alexandra, why did you never tell me this before, _ma petite_?"

"Because there's nothing that can be done, Erik," her voice was tired and resigned. "I'm not musically inclined and never will be. I can't help but be jealous of those who share your passion for music for they will always have a part of you that I do not."

"Just because you cannot sing or play, _ma petite chère_, doesn't mean you cannot share my music. You listen and you hear. No, don't shake your head; there **is** a difference and it's an important one. Most only listen to music; they may sing along or even have lovely voices but the music is never real and alive for them. You, however, actually listen _and_ hear. You can hear the emotions and the stories it tells; you can feel it like a living, breathing thing and that is a precious gift, Alexandra. Do not discount the ability to both listen and to hear, _mon amour_, for I would take one person who can hear the music over a dozen who merely listen."

Leaning back against his chest, Alex thought of what he'd said. She'd always been moved by his music; the raw emotion that she could feel in every note either lifted her to the skies or tossed her into the abyss. If she closed her eyes, she could picture the story as it unfolded with each resonating note. Others couldn't hear that? They couldn't hear the loneliness and the pain and the joy and the love that was so plain to her in every song he wrote? Suddenly, she pitied those who only listened and was so very glad that she could hear.

"I'm sorry, my love. I hadn't thought of it that way." Capturing one of his hands, she brought it to her lips to place several gentle kisses along the callused fingertips. "Why would someone say you'd done something when you hadn't, though? What did they possibly hope to gain by causing unhappiness between us?"

"I have no proof as of yet, _mon amour_," relaxed now, Erik's free hand resumed its worshipful caresses under her sweater, "but I believe Carlotta and your Mr. Blankenship are in collusion. Whether they are merely aiding one another for selfish purposes or have other, more sinister reasons, I do not know. Yet."

"Sinister? What do you mean, Erik?" A shiver ran down the length of her spine as his other hand joined in the teasing of her skin. If they didn't retire to his apartments soon…

"I mean they may have a mutual friend who'd like nothing more than to see us both suffer, Alexandra. No more talk about the screeching diva or the annoying patron, _ma petite chère_. I believe it is normal to make up after a fight, correct?" He nipped her neck softly before rising with her in his arms and carrying her to the elevator that led to his rooms.

**xxxx**

Much later that night, Erik gazed down at the sleeping woman at his side and wondered if they'd ever have a chance to simply be a couple. First there was Christine and Zakharov, then Alexandra's hospitalization and recovery, and now there was Blankenship… It cannot simply be a coincidence that he'd reentered Alexandra's life just as Zakharov escaped prison. Erik didn't believe in coincidences and the patron's persistence in his pursuit of his former girlfriend after years without contact simply didn't measure up. He hoped he still had some friends in the Agency who'd be willing to do a bit of digging on his behalf. It was time to gather information on one Michael Blankenship and Omni Corporation.

As for the rumors, it wouldn't surprise him if Carla herself had started them. He'd known the aging diva had been trying to capture both his attention and his bank account for several years but only lately had she begun to get aggressive with it. Was she working for something other than her own selfish gains? Her past wasn't exactly spotless being riddled as it was with drug use and prostitution. Had Zakharov contacted her as well or was he simply jumping at shadows? Erik ran a hand over his unmasked face and sighed; he didn't have time for this! The opera would have its premier performance at the end of the next month but, until then, his days were swamped with rehearsals.

Easing from the bed, he pulled on a pair of lounge pants and sat at the desk holding his laptop. He kept the screen angled slightly so as to not wake his sleeping lover as he typed up some emails. He hoped that something could be found in the Agency's database that would shed some light on the involvement, if any, of Carla and Blankenship with Zakharov or each other. In the meantime, he would pull the understudy aside tomorrow and start working with her on the role of Aminta. Even if no connection could be made between Carla and either man, she was in dire need of a reminder that he was engaged to be married and it wasn't to her.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**January 21**

The week finally came to a close and everyone gave a prayer of gratitude for the upcoming weekend. All of the performers had been grumbling about what a tyrant Erik was being, except for Carla who had taken every opportunity to be close to him. As they were released that Friday, she had stayed behind with a 'gift' for the composer. If this didn't make him send the ginger bitch packing…

"Erik, how well do you know your fiancée?"

"Why do you ask, Carla?" Erik, suspicious about the concern in her voice, wondered where she was going with this.

"Well…you know how I like to have a bit of…entertainment on the weekends. And, you know, guys like movies…" A single brow raised in impatient inquiry told her to get to the point and quick. "Anyway, I was at the video store to pick up a few to put us in the mood when…well, when I found this."

As she handed him the DVD case, she hoped she sounded suitably reluctant and concerned instead of the malicious glee she truly felt. Erik took the case from her without taking his eyes from her face. He knew she was up to something, but what? Looking at the cover, he felt as if he'd been kicked in the gut. There, on the front of the X-rated movie, was his Alexandra with her head thrown back in ecstasy as she straddled some unknown male. Entitled Frat Party Fiesta, the movie gleefully boasted that one got the chance to watch her satisfying three men at the same time and dubbed her the _'Amateur Sensation of the Year!'_ Dragging his eyes from the filth in his hands, he speared Carla with a glare.

"Where did you find this?" His growl caused a shiver to run up her spine, partially from fear and partially from excitement. Part of Erik's allure for her, other than his bank account of course, was that aura of danger he sometimes had.

"You know that video store on the corner of Fifth and Jackson? It was behind the curtain, you know." Pulling out a Tony Award winning performance, Carla laid a hand on his arm and looked at him with pity and sadness. "I'm sorry, Erik, but I thought you should know."

Part of being an actress, she thought, was knowing when to perform and when to leave the stage. It was definitely time for her exit; time to let him seethe and confront his precious Alexandra. She'd come back in the morning to check on him and offer her own special kind of consolation on the ending of his engagement. As she sauntered out of the theater, she passed Blankenship in the lobby and gave him a seductively welcoming smile. Until she had Erik in her clutches, the CEO of a major electronics corporation would do nicely. Let the games begin.

**xxxx**

Staring down at the video cover, Erik felt heartbreak and fury warring for supremacy. Was this how Alexandra paid her way through college? He slipped through one of the passageways only he knew of and entered his office. Locking the door, he put the DVD in the player and watched in growing horror and fury. There had to be at least ten different men in that frat house; all were naked and waiting for their turn with his fiancée, who wore nothing but a pair of high heels and a sash that read 'party favor.' Fast-forwarding through most of it, Erik paused the movie at the point advertised on the cover and let the anger grow to a white hot rage. How dare she play on his sympathy with her pitiful story of a home movie being shown at a bachelor party when she was doing this! Pulling the movie from the player, he stalked to his apartment.

Placing the disc in the player in his room, he searched through the scene selection until he found the damning three-on-one segment. Erik paused the movie and turned the TV off, waiting in the darkened room for Alexandra to come home. He heard her enter the living room to drop off her coat and purse and call his name; he remained silent. When she opened the door to the bedroom, she jumped at the faint glow of his eyes and reached for the light switch.

"Why are you sitting in the dark, love?"

"Leave the lights off." Erik's voice was feather soft but cold as ice; his amber eyes reflecting his rage.

"Ok, sure Erik," confused, Alex closed the door before approaching her fiancé, wondering why he seemed so angry. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't know, Alexandra. Is there? It seems there is something you failed to tell me about your college days, my dear. Perhaps you'd like to enlighten me as to how you funded your degree." The totally bewildered look on her face nearly stripped him of his anger but the feel of the movie's case biting into his hand as he clutched it served to fuel it once more.

"My degree? I took out a student loan, Erik. You know that. Hell, you repaid it for me! What's going on?"

"Oh yes, I repaid the loan but I truly doubt you needed the money for your tuition when you were working _so very hard_. I just want to know why you didn't tell me; why you let me believe that you were so upset over that video of you and Blankenship. Care to answer that, my dear?"

"What the hell are you talking about, Erik? I needed the loan because I wasn't making enough at my job to pay for myself and Sammy and tuition. And I told you about the video; I was upset! What's going on?" He could hear her voice shaking with fear…but was it fear of him or fear of discovery?

"I'll do better than tell you; I'll show you." Hitting the button on the remote, the oversized TV lit the room with an eerie glow. Erik pressed play and the horrible scene played out in front of him again, more painful than any torture he'd ever endured. "Who are they, Alexandra?"

"What? I don't know! Where did you get this?" She was shocked at seeing her face on what was obviously not her body. Was this Erik's idea of a joke?

"You don't know?" Standing, he loomed over her and she knew in an instant that Erik believed that was her in the film. "You fucked them in front of a camera and you didn't even know who they were? Dammit, Alexandra, I had thought better of you than doing cheap porn for money!" The sting of her hand as it connected to his cheek gave him a moment's pause and began to work its way through the angry red fog that enveloped him.

"How dare you?" Tears coated her words but she faced him squarely, appalled by his accusations. "I don't know where you got this…this trash, but I can't believe you! That you would think me capable of…of… Weren't you the one lecturing me about trust just days ago or did that only apply one way?" When he said nothing, Alex turned and walked out, slamming the front door behind her.

Alone in the dark room with the offensive movie still playing in the background, Erik didn't know what to think. The evidence was damning and yet he couldn't believe her shock, her pain, and her outrage were all an act. What hurt most was that she offered no excuses, no reasons; she made no effort to convince him of her innocence. With a roar of despair and anger, he picked up the lamp from the bedside table and threw it at the TV. Sparks and glass flew as both it and the lamp shattered. When the door opened and the light chased the comforting shadows from the room, he turned to look into the furious eyes of Angelique Giry just seconds before her hand struck the same cheek as Alexandra's.

"_Putain de merde__, Erik!_What have you done? Your fiancée is in my room with Megan crying her heart out but refuses to say why. And then, then when she finds out I'm on my way to find you, what does she do? She gives me this," she brandished Alexandra's engagement ring before his face, "and begs me to return it to you. You will tell me what's going on and you will apologize to that girl or answer to me."

"I fear you are misinformed, _maman_. It is not what I did to her," picking up the discarded DVD case, Erik hands it to Angelique, "but rather what she did that I discovered."

"What did Alex have to say about it?"

"She refused to offer any explanation at all."

"And you just accepted that and let her go? You need to talk with her, Erik. Let her explain and actually listen to what she has to say with an open mind. She gave you that courtesy, the least you could do is return it."

Before he could respond, a flurry of steps was followed by his front door once again being wrenched open by an upset female. This time it was Megan who entered, slightly breathless from her run and with drying tears upon her cheeks.

"Alex is gone, _maman_! She said she needed to get her purse from Erik's office but when she didn't come back I went looking for her. The door to the office was locked and I've checked everywhere and can't find her."

"Gone?" All the color drained from Erik's face as he stared at the ring still gripped tightly in Angelique's fingers. Sinking onto the bed, his unfocused eyes saw nothing but stricken expression on Alex's face when he'd accused her of filming that atrocious film. She was gone, alone and unprotected, and it was all his fault. Covering his face with his hands, Erik wept.

**xxxx**

Outside the Metropolitan Opera and Ballet, a shadowy figure in a dark sedan watched as a woman left the building hurriedly. She was poorly dressed for the frigid January weather and, from the movements he could see in the dim light, was quite upset. Chuckling softly, he put the car in gear and drove slowly past the red-head. He kept her in sight as he parked a block down the road. The dull metallic grey of a gun barrel betrayed not a single glint in the muted light as he aimed for the crying woman. The muffled thud of a body hitting the deserted sidewalk was the sweetest of sounds and he smiled at the ease of his success. Scooping up the girl and placing her in the backseat of the car, he quickly bound her wrists and ankles before placing a gag over her mouth as a precaution. Covering her with a blanket to hide her from prying eyes, Stanislav Zakharov formerly known as Raoul de Chagny and now using the moniker of Robert Chaney returned to the driver's seat and pulled back onto the street. Ah yes, revenge would be sweet indeed.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer - Since I don't own a time machine, I also don't own anything related to Phantom

* * *

**Chapter 12**

**January 24**

Two whole days had passed since Alex had disappeared; two days and three nights of sheer hell for the masked composer. Two days for him to realize just how much his jealousy, his temper, and his insecurities had cost him. He'd forced himself to watch the film with an artist's critical eye instead of allowing his emotions to overrule him; it was then that he'd noticed the stark differences between the females on the screen and his Alexandra. Unless he was mistaken, there were at least four different women involved who were built enough like Alex for the mind to fill in what the eyes didn't see. Whoever had made the film – however they'd made it – knew Erik well enough to know which buttons to push to upset him. Like a fool, he'd fallen neatly into the trap set for him. _Damn his temper and insecurities!_

Feeling helpless, Erik had called Lizzie shortly after his fiancée had fled the opera house, hoping beyond hope that Alex had run to her friend for comfort. Every day, he would call her again for news and every day he was disappointed. The police and his friends in the Agency were searching for her as well but have had no leads, which didn't really surprise him. If Zakharov had her, as he suspected, he wouldn't be foolish enough to let her be seen. It bothered him greatly that he'd heard no word from the Russian and he feared for his Alexandra.

The DVD, which Erik discovered did not belong to any video store, was sent to professionals for analysis. They confirmed what he should have known all along: none of the women were his fiancée. Someone very skilled in video manipulation had worked hard to replace the porn stars' faces with Alex's. They were not as skilled, however, with covering their tracks and the Agency's experts were confident they'd have some information on the computer that had been used within the next day or so. In this way, they hoped to track the machine and find the ones responsible. Erik chafed at the delay but knew that rushing things would only cause mistakes to be made; mistakes they could ill afford. What he could do in the mean time was confront Carla Goldman and convince her that it would be in the best interest of her continued good health to cooperate. That Monday morning, he left word with the management that he wished to see Ms. Goldman in his office the moment she arrived and that they were not to be interrupted under any circumstances. Try as he might, he couldn't conceal the malicious and somewhat maniacal gleam in his golden eyes when she knocked and entered his office.

"Erik, I was told you…wanted me?" Carla placed as much sultry innuendo in her question as her acting skills allowed. She'd heard the gossip already about the disappearance of the Roberts bitch and strove to keep from her face her smug satisfaction at the success of her plan. Now to close the deal and make him hers.

"Oh yes, Carla, I most certainly do. First, however, I have something special I wished to show you. Will you accompany me?" Dressed all in black, even down to his supple leather gloves, Erik was an imposing, dangerous figure. When he held his hand out to her, the soprano shivered in delighted fear and took his hand. Finally, she was to get what she deserved!

Triggering a hidden switch, Erik opened a section of the wall that led into a dim passageway. The evidence of such a tunnel made many things click into place for the singer that had baffled her over the years; mainly, how the composer managed to move about the theater with no one ever seeing him in the halls. The further from the office they walked, the dimmer the light became until they were surrounded by total darkness. Only then did she start to wonder where, exactly, he was leading her.

"Not too much further, I promise." Erik's soft murmur calmed her fears though she couldn't fathom how he was aware of them.

After what seemed like hours, though was more like a mere ten minutes or so, Erik stopped and Carla could hear a metallic click. A door opened to reveal a room lit only with candles and a fire burning merrily in the hearth. Smiling at the romantic gesture, Carla eagerly followed the maestro into the room. The door clicked shut behind them, molding seamlessly with the wall, and something about the whole situation was beginning to unnerve the singer. First, there was the lack of furniture. The room was delightfully bathed in candlelight but there appeared to be no chairs, no sofas or chaises, no beds with which to enjoy the mood it set. Then there were the windows; more precisely, the fact that the entire room had none which allowed the shadows to swallow up the corners where the candlelight could not reach. Finally, there was Erik himself. His golden eyes, always his most striking feature, glowed eerily in the dim light and she wasn't too certain she liked the look in them.

"What a…um, charming room to be sure, Erik." Regardless of her efforts, Carla's voice shook slightly in nervousness. As silent as the shadows from the flickering flames, Erik slowly circled his prey. "Is something wrong?" Nervousness was easing into fear as she wondered if he'd discovered the video was a fake.

"I'm not certain, Ms. Goldman, but I'm sure you will enlighten me." He circled the trembling woman once more before stopping in front of her. The flames from the surrounding candles were reflected in his golden eyes giving them a hellish appearance as they bore implacably into hers. "You see, you brought a film to me on Friday that you claimed to have found at the video store down the street. When I visited that self same store, I was informed that the disc did not belong to them. Will you explain that to me, please?"

"Oh, did I tell you it was from that one?" Carla very nearly sagged in relief that he merely wanted to know where she'd found the DVD. "I'm sorry, Erik, I go to so many stores, you know. I believe that particular movie was from that truck stop on I85. You know the one? Right off exit 382. If you'd like, I could return it for you?" She cursed the hopeful tone that crept into her voice.

"That will not be necessary, Ms. Goldman. You see, I know for a fact that the disc did not come from the truck stop, or the video store, or any other place your mind is scrambling to conjure up at this moment. What you are going to do for me now is tell me where you really obtained it." Closing his hands into fists, he repeated to himself his vow never to kill a woman unless absolutely necessary. It had eaten at his soul that he'd been forced to deal with Christine; he was uncertain it would bother him in the least to do the same to the woman before him now. "Do not think to lie to me for I shall know."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Erik, but the joke's worn thin. I'd like to return to the stage now." Seeking comfort in indignation, Carla moved towards the wall she was certain they'd entered through only to find no sign of a door. She shrieked slightly when a gloved hand clamped around her upper arm like a steel band and dragged her to a chair that'd been hidden in the gloom. Before she was aware of what was happening, metal shackles closed over her wrists and ankles to effectively hold her in place. Carla struggled against the bonds only to discover that, not only were they secure, but also that the chair appeared to be latched to the floor. Terror was beginning to set in as she realized the seriousness of the repercussions that her actions were now bringing upon her.

"Let me clue you in on something, Ms. Goldman." Erik removed a folded chair from its place against the wall and sat in front of his captive. "No one knows that this room even exists; it's not on the blueprints or documented on any building records. How do I know this? I designed this theater and the blueprints submitted to the necessary authorities included only what I wished for them to know. Therefore, I feel it is my duty to warn you that no one will be searching for you and, if they were to do so, they will not find you here. As of noon today, you see, you quit your position of lead soprano at the Metropolitan due to artistic differences with the composer of the latest opera." Erik pulled an envelope from his pocket and Carla's eyes widened as she recognized what appeared to be _her_ handwriting on the outside. "Since I already knew you had been unhappy with things here, I'd begun to train your understudy just last week. I suppose that was what finally convinced you to quit." The smile on his face unnerved her more than the glint in his golden eyes, if that was possible.

"You can't do this! I have friends; people will be looking for me and they'll…"

"…do absolutely nothing," he smoothly interrupted as he put the envelope back into a hidden pocket. "You shouldn't overestimate either your value to them or their reliance on you. Blankenship is a vile man who rose to power on the body of his own father. Chaney, a Russian drug runner and sex slave trader, would kill his own mother in order to save his own hide if she were not already dead."

"Michael wouldn't abandon me! He told me Robert was powerful and would keep me safe…" Carla's eyes widened at the victorious gleam in his eyes and the cruel smile that graced his handsome face; she had just confirmed her association with the two men.

"Thank you for that, Ms. Goldman. I wasn't entirely certain you'd involved yourself with such despicable characters but you have set my mind at ease." All pretenses of charm and politeness fled his voice and his eyes. "Where is Chaney and how do you contact him?" The warm, golden voice was a honey coated razor slicing at her will and she desperately tried to pull her eyes from his hypnotic gaze. "**_Carla. I need to talk to Chaney. Where is he, Carla?_**"

The singer couldn't turn away, didn't want to turn away. That voice pulled at her like a dozen gentle hands, caressing her with the promise of ecstasy if only she'd answer him. Shivering in anticipated bliss, Carla let herself float along the erotic pull of his words. Nothing could hurt her here; here, she was beautiful, charming, rich, and powerful. The soft echoes in her head told her that all she had to do to remain there forever was to answer his questions. A smile flitted about her lips as she nodded slightly. Yes. She'd stay and be beautiful and young forever.

"Chaney has a private jet. He was going to take the Roberts slut away with him. Away with him…away from you…" Her voice drifted along the waves of her hypnosis-induced fantasy.

"**_Carla, lovely Carla. Where has he taken her, my dear?_**" Erik kept a firm grip on both his temper and her mind. She'd break eventually; he'd never known the person who could resist his will.

"Away, away…" Carla giggled softly before sobering. "He won't hurt her, you know. He only wants to keep her from you. He knows you belong to me." A dreamy smile tugged at her lips as her eyes fluttered shut. "You belong to me, my Erik. You always have, you know."

"**_But I cannot be with you, my dearest Carla, while she is out there somewhere. I need to be certain she won't come take me from you. So, you see, I must find her in order to keep us safe_**." He felt the bile rise as he spoke the words to the hateful woman before him. That's what this was all about? She risked Alexandra's life and their engagement out of hurt pride and jealousy?

"Oh very well, my love," his captive pouted in what he believed was supposed to be an endearingly cute manner, "if you must in order for us to be together. He said he was taking her home to his family's villa to meet his parents."

"**_Very good, thank you, Carla. You've been most helpful. Now, I need you to do something for me; can you do that?_**" Oh God, he had to reach his Alexandra in time!

"Anything for you!" Again, she giggled girlishly. Erik leaned forward and spoke quietly to the singer, never once letting up on the firm hold he had on her will.

**xxxx**

Once more Alex woke to unceasing darkness. It took several deep breaths to subdue her rising terror but she knew she'd accomplish little if she acted precipitously. Since she couldn't see anyway, she closed her eyes and felt her environment. Unlike the cold, damp cell she was once held in, this seemed smaller, drier, and made of wood. A crate, perhaps? Wiggling slightly in the confined space, Alex attempted to trace its shape and felt her heart lodge in her throat even as she clamped her lips to keep from screaming at the discovery. Hyperventilating, she felt the darkness closing in on her even more and, before she succumbed to the peace of unconsciousness, she had but one thought: she was in a coffin.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**January 25**

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Alex heard the shift in the engines that signaled the plane was landing. Plane? Thank God! She'd been so afraid she'd actually been buried that she nearly wept in relief; she might survive this yet. Feeling along the seam where the lid met the sides, she searched for anything that might be a latch or handle. She was disheartened but not surprised to find nothing but smooth wood. '_The least they could have done was put me in one with cushions; my rear is starting to grow numb,'_ Alex grumbled silently to herself. Shifting what little she could, her hands brushed the pocket of her jeans and felt the distinct, rectangular shape of her cell phone. Slowly and carefully she inched the phone from her pocket knowing that she'd not be able to retrieve it if it fell. The faint glow of the screen was both welcome and horrifying as it made her situation all the more real. As the plane bumped around upon landing, Alex typed out a text message to Erik and prayed it would go through. Then, she dialed his number, placed it on speaker phone, and slid it back into her pocket. If nothing else, maybe they could trace the signal.

There was a loud screeching sound from beyond the coffin and Alex dearly wished she could cover her ears to blot out the shrill, painful noise. There was little time to ponder what was causing it before she felt movement. Straining her ears to hear anything that might give her a clue as to her whereabouts, she could tell there was some sort of problem as the voices beyond her dark prison continue to grow louder and ever more heated. Even when their volume was such that she could hear them plainly it proved to be of little help; she didn't recognize the language at all. After several minutes, those who were arguing seemed to come to some kind of agreement and she felt movement once more.

Placed in the back of some sort of cargo vehicle, Alex eventually adjusted to the bumping and swaying as they traveled over uneven roads. After a particularly sharp turn, she was thankful to whomever chose to strap the coffin tightly to prevent sliding. The cold that had begun to bite during the transition from plane to land vehicle had given way to a comfortable warmth so she assumed that she was in an enclosed truck, perhaps even a hearse. A chuckle bordering on hysteria threatened to emerge as she wondered if her mode of transportation was a premonition of things to come. Breathing deeply, Alex concentrated on the breathing and relaxation exercises she'd learned from her meditation lessons of so long ago. As she calmed, the stress of the last few days' events, along with the silence and gentle motions, lulled her into an uneasy sleep.

She awakened not due to intense noise or jarring motion but from the absolute lack of both. The stillness and silence were far more terrible as it conjured up panicked thoughts once more of being buried alive. Remaining calm only by sheer force of will, Alex raised her hands to the lid of the coffin only to find it gone. Her eyes popped open in surprise which was compounded by the beauty of the room in which she found herself. The relief she felt was short lived, however, when she realized she'd been disrobed, dressed in a nightgown, and though she was placed on an extremely comfortable bed, Alex couldn't move beyond the fact that someone had undressed her without her knowledge or consent. A quick glance around the room showed no sign of her clothing which meant a loss of her cell phone and her only possible link to Erik and rescue.

Erik. She nearly wept at the thought that the last time she'd seen him, they'd fought. The more she dwelt on it, the more she realized she'd fallen quite nicely into this trap. Alex knew that once he'd gotten over his initial anger and jealousy, Erik would have been more open to listening to reason. She also knew that he was insecure and constantly feared she'd wish to be freed from the 'monster' he still considered himself to be. Loving him would never be easy, she surmised, but it would always be worth it. If she made it out of this alive, that is. Noises outside the room jerked her thoughts back to her present situation and she forced her tense muscles to relax. Calming her breathing, Alex feigned sleep in hopes of discovering more about where she was for she greatly feared she knew who had captured her.

The door opened and through the barest of slits she watched as a large, maternal looking woman bustled in with a tray. Several times, the maid walked out of Alex's limited field of vision; her actions only becoming clear with the sounds of drawers being opened before she stacked Alex's clothing at the foot of the bed. Gentle pats on her cheeks were meant to wake her so Alex tried to make her performance believable. The maid helped her to sit up and placed the tray over her legs and removed the cover. Everything was in disposable Styrofoam containers with plastic cutlery. Dammit.

"_Cъесть. Съесть_." At her blank stare, the lady placed a plastic fork in her hand and made eating motions. "_Cъесть_!" Nodding in sudden understanding, Alex speared a carrot and took a bite while the maid smiled and quickly left the room, locking it behind her. Though she didn't truly trust the food not to be laced with some vile poison, she still ate the simple stew and bread. She would need her strength if she was to escape and starving herself wouldn't help. Once she'd set the tray onto the side table, Alex rose and quickly dressed As she'd suspected, she no longer had her cell phone so she could only pray that her text and phone call had gone through. If they had left the US as she expected then she truly doubted she'd had any success. She'd just finished tying her shoes when the door opened once more and the man she'd known as Raoul de Chagny entered the room.

"_Здравствуйте пропустите Робертс_." Chuckling at her when she merely arched a brow, he bowed elegantly and repeated his greeting in English. "Hello, Miss Roberts, and welcome to my home. I heard about your long stay in the hospital; I do hope you are feeling better now?" The grin on his face was absolutely feral as he watched her closely.

"What do you want with me, Zakharov?" Alex was proud that her voice remained steady for her insides were shaking like a willow in a hurricane.

"Ah, so the freak told you my name, hmm? Did he tell you the rest? Did he tell how he came to my parents' home on my sister's birthday and killed my father in cold blood? I can see he did not." Once more he chuckled and this time it sent a shiver of fear down her spine. "For years I've waited and plotted and planned my revenge only to have it all thrown away by that Daaé slut. Once things were in place, she refused to let me kill him as we'd planned. She wanted to bed that…that…she actually preferred that monster to me. Me!"

Alex nervously watched him pace about the room as he ranted. Everything about the man practically oozed a twisted type of danger. Where Erik was controlled and even unemotional when he retreated into his _Le Fantôme_ persona, Zakharov was clearly mad. His lack of sanity made him unpredictable which made him even more dangerous. She feared saying the wrong thing and focusing his anger on her so she remained silent but watchful.

"But now, you see," her captor continued after a string of what she could only guess were curses in his native tongue, "now, I've come to realize that she did me a favor. Too bad she's dead and won't know it." Though much calmer, his laughter still held that tinge of madness that froze the very blood in her veins. "No longer do I wish to kill him, you see. Instead, I have the chance to truly hurt him as he hurt me. With one shot, he destroyed my life. I'd thought to do the same for him, you know. There were many opportunities I could have killed you, my dear, but I realized in time that would not do. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to know that the woman he loves lives but was taken from him; that she's hurting because of him."

"You failed to realize something, Zakharov," all the blood had fled her face and only through sheer force of will had she not collapsed from fear. Holding up her ringless left hand, she fought for a casual tone. "Erik and I have called off the engagement. He will not come for me." The frown on his face very nearly soothed the very real fear that she was telling the truth; nearly but not quite. Alex hoped that, after their argument and her returning the ring, he would still come for her.

"Sure he will. Did he not mourn his _precious_ Christine for years? I'd think he'd miss you longer than the few days it took to bring you here."

Chuckling as he left the room, the lock slid back into place and Alex fought the urge to collapse onto the bed in hysterics.

**xxxx**

The clock by the bed read 3:17am as Erik glared fiercely at it. He'd not long fallen into an exhausted sleep when something, some sound, had jerked him back awake. Instinctively, he checked the other side of the bed to make sure he hadn't awakened Alexandra and felt fresh pain when it remained cold and empty. He was about to lay back down when his cell phone rang. Cursing, he crossed the room ready to take his anger out on the poor soul who'd disturbed him when he glanced at the Caller ID. Alexandra. He eagerly answered and was confused when there was no one on the other end. He could hear faint sounds of an engine and Alex's voice, though it was too muffled and indistinct to comprehend. '_Clever girl_,' he thought proudly as he rushed to throw on the light. Calling a friend at the Agency from the land line, Erik had them start a tape and trace on her cell number while he hooked the phone to his recording equipment in his room. They would have better luck capturing the sounds than he but he wanted to start work on analyzing immediately.

A series of sporadic squeaks were followed by the rattling of metal on metal. Erik pulled a notepad over to jot down his initial impressions of the sounds for sometimes those are the most accurate. There was a long period of silence before he heard voices. Muffled by whatever separated her phone from her captor's attention, all he knew for certain were that the speakers were male and the language wasn't English. Considering what Carla had told him, Erik guessed Russian though it could be any of a number of Slavic languages and dialects. He hoped that one of the recordings could be cleaned up enough to translate. Again, there was a long stretch of silence with the occasional muffled sound of an engine and even less distinct voices. After nearly twenty minutes, the engine ceased and he could hear what appeared to be the clicking of locks before the voices grew louder. Flipping to a fresh sheet of paper, Erik began translating.

"Did she get it? Good, now we can get her into the house and she can be someone else's problem." Voice One was rough and uncultured with a faint smoker's wheeze to the lungs. Erik figured he was a hired thug paid to do as he was told and not bother with thinking on his own.

"Yes, she should remain unconscious for at least another hour or two. Take her into the house to the room the boss has prepared. I hear he's got a buyer already lined up for her once she's learned her place." Voice Two was more refined yet still held a hint of…something that pointed towards a humble beginning. A farmer or hitman who'd been put into an overseer role, perhaps. The talk of a buyer had him clenching the pencil tightly; his Alexandra would not be sold into the same sort of hell as Zakharov's other victims.

"D'you think the boss would let me help him with that? She ain't the prettiest he's brought to the villa but she's curvy enough for me." At the lewd glee in Voice One, Erik snapped the pencil in his hand as his rage threatened to take over. Searching for another, he promised a fitting end to the thug on behalf of his love.

"Gregori, anything female is enough for you. I dunno what the boss has planned but I'd keep my hands to myself if I was you. Katya will be tending to her until he says otherwise. Understand?" Only a grunt acknowledged Voice Two's clear warning.

Silence was followed by heavy boots on stairs. What had they given her to make her sleep? He heard doors open and close several times before a female's voice spoke to a silent occupant in the room. Unfortunately, she only spoke because she'd found Alex's cell phone and was giving it to the one whose orders she followed. It was no surprise to Erik when Zakharov's smug voice came through the small speaker clearly.

"_Monsieur Le Fantôme_, I must commend you. Your fiancée is a clever girl; too clever in fact. I'm sorry to say that she will have to pay for this minor bit of resourcefulness."

"You're not sorry at all, you bastard. What do you want?"

"That's the beauty of it, Devereaux, I already have it. The fact that I have her and you have no idea what will happen to her by the time you get here is enough for now. Yes, I know you'll come for her; you're disgustingly predictable that way. I look forward to meeting you again. _До свидания_!"

The moment the cell phone fell silent Erik was calling the Agency. The recording of the transmission had already been sent to the lab to be cleaned up and background noises isolated and identified; they gave him an ETA of two hours max. The trace only confirmed what Erik already knew: Zakharov had taken Alexandra to his father's villa in the former Soviet Union. That meant this was no longer about European Electronics and their failed attempts to recruit Alex's family; it was now about personal vengeance.

"Be strong, _ma petite chère_. _Le Fantôme_ is coming for you." Erik gently touched the ruby engagement ring before standing to gather the things he'd need for the trip.

* * *

_A/N: I'm having slight problems getting my characters where I want them to be and have it sound decent so there could be some delay with future chapters. Thank you all for your reviews so far!_


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: The rights of the characters and story this is based upon belongs to Leroux and Weber.

* * *

**Chapter 14**

**January 27**

Counting the days by the meals she received, Alex guessed she'd been held approximately three days. As if being held captive wasn't enough, she'd not seen or heard from Zakharov since that initial meeting and that set her imagination into overdrive. What did he want from her? Was she to be used as bait to capture Erik again or did he have something far more nefarious in store? Restlessly she paced the perimeter of the room; the windows were barred, the door to the hallway was locked, and the heat was provided by a large radiator-like…thing in the room. The dresser and armoire were empty of all but two extra sets of clothing; these were folded and placed in the drawers so no hangers would be needed. The small night stand was simple and didn't have anything beyond four legs and the top. Even the bathroom was designed so that the plumbing was inside the wall instead of in the room. She refused to simply accept her fate, however, and so after breakfast Alex started in the bathroom and began to search every possible inch of the room in hopes of finding something she could use that had been overlooked. After nearly forty-five minutes, she was rewarded for her diligence with a small scrap of hope in the guise of a pair of fingernail clippers. Small and mostly harmless, it was at least something and it served to buoy her spirits and persuade her to continue in her search.

Fearing her small weapon would be found too easily if she placed it in her pocket or under her pillow, Alex placed the cool metal item inside her bra beneath a breast. Hopefully it would not be found there. She returned to the bedroom and started her search with the armoire in the corner. Finding it empty, she looked to see how much space was underneath, beside, and behind it and decided it would have to be moved. But how to do so without the noise alerting the guards that were surely posted just beyond her door? Alex glared at the piece of furniture as if waiting for it to cooperate and tried to remember the last time her family had used a moving company. She remembered the truck, the hand carts, the furniture dollies…and the anti-scuff pads. That's it! She had to refrain from cheering as she pondered what to use. Deciding to return to that later, she continued to thoroughly search the remainder of the bedroom. The bed was made of slats with no boxed springs, the mattress was inflatable, and the bed frame was bolted to the floor. It seems Zakharov had planned this well in advance.

The dresser proved just as devoid of anything helpful as the bed. Even after pulling out all the drawers, Alex still found nothing that could be of use. Replacing the drawers, she was returning the spare sets of clothing when she realized that the slightly padded cups of the bras Zakharov provided were very similar to the scuff protectors the movers had used. She only hoped she could get them separated and, once she did, that there was something under or behind the armoire to make going through all this trouble worth it. Hearing a key being inserted into the lock, Alex unhurriedly slid the drawer closed and leaned against the dresser to wait on whoever deigned to visit her.

"Ms. Roberts, how are you today?" Zakharov's friendly smile and tone turned Alex's stomach. How could he act so kind and polite when there was a true monster beneath the handsome façade?

"Hmmm, let me think, Zakharov. Oh yes, I'm still a prisoner so I'm doing pretty shitty, actually." The sarcasm in her voice was so thick one could actually bottle it as it hung in the air between them.

"Don't be that way, my dear." He stepped aside so the maid could bring the lunch tray but his eyes, cold and hard, never left hers. "I have a present for you. You'll be released from this villa in two days."

"Released? Why do I feel there's a catch involved in all this?"

"A catch? You wound me, Ms. Roberts. You shall be released from the villa and into the care of Nikolai Vlascenko, a business associate of mine. He will instruct you as to your duties once you are in his…care." Zakharov's smile was as cold as his eyes and Alex could feel the fear pooling in the pit of her stomach. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know what kind of business the two men shared. "I'd advise you to eat, my dear. You will need your strength." Her captor smirked and bowed mockingly before leaving the room and relocking the door.

Her appetite had fled the moment the Russian had entered the room but she forced herself to eat some of what was on the plate. Frowning at the array of finger foods on the disposable paper place – no utensils were allowed and a plate could be broken and made sharp – Alex realized she had less than two days to escape the villa. Standing to gaze through the bars of the window, she also had to overcome the fact that she was in Russia at the very height of winter and didn't have an overcoat. If she fled without some plan on obtaining proper outerwear, she'd succumb to hypothermia very quickly. _'Why couldn't he have taken me somewhere warm?'_ She grumbled to herself as she watched the snow falling.

The maid knocked once, turned the key in the lock, and entered to gather the tray. Alex watched in confusion as she bustled about the room. Normally the room was dusted and the bed sheets changed every other day but all had been done the previous day. She was about to turn to look back out the window when the elderly maid caught her attention and motioned for Alex to join her in the bathroom. Intrigued now, she entered the bathroom and looked around for the maid but she'd disappeared.

"Hello?" Alex kept her voice low, not knowing if the room was monitored in any way. The linen shelves swung open to reveal a passageway and the maid stepped out, closed the door, and showed Alex how to operate the latch. Grasping the wrinkled hands in hers, Alex knew the maid couldn't understand but had to ask anyway. "Why?"

"Vlascenko…" Shaking her head, the maid reclaimed her hands to open the first three buttons of her uniform. Pulling aside the stiff fabric, she revealed what appeared to be a small brand on the swell of her left breast. Pointing to it, the maid repeated the name. She, too, had been in the unknown man's care at one time. Buttoning her starched shirt once more, she pointed to Alex then the shelving and placed both hands under her tilted cheek to simulate sleep. Alex nodded in understanding then, frowning, wrapped her arms around her body and gave an exaggerated shiver. The maid patted her arm and simply nodded so she had to hope something was being arranged.

Leaving the bathroom, the elderly woman picked up the tray and headed for the door when Alex placed a light hand on her shoulder. "What's your name?" At the woman's confused frown, she gestured to herself and gave her name then pointed to the maid.

"Katya. Katya Ivanova." Then, with the barest of curtsies, the maid bustled out the door and turned the key in the lock. Alex watched her leave and then moved to the bed to wait until nightfall and her chance to escape.

**xxxx**

The twin engine plane touched down on the small, primitive runway and was met by two men in suits by a black car of undeterminable make. Erik shook his head as he exited the plane and wondered why they didn't just write "CIA" on the side if they were going to be so damn obvious. They were to be his contacts in this godforsaken country and provide him with the equipment he'd need to remove the Zakharov problem once and for all. The Agency had given Erik the mission in order to justify to themselves the use of their contacts to ease his entry into the country. Carrying his one bag, he greeted the two men cordially before they all got in the car to leave the small airport behind.

The ride to the nondescript building that served as the CIA's safe house was quiet. None of the occupants fully trusted the security and integrity of the vehicle; its very mobility made it difficult to keep swept clean of listening devices of all sorts. The black car pulled up to a warehouse and, after some obviously prearranged conversation, the doors slid open wide enough to let the car through. As soon as it was clear, the doors slid shut and were locked securely behind them. Parking the car over a recessed area that reminded Erik of a mechanic's garage, the agents motioned for the masked man to follow them into the office. He glanced back just before entering the small room to see several men going over the vehicle with a variety of electronic devices. The driver continued to lead them through a variety of rooms, all but the first being secured behind card readers and keypads, until they arrived at the armory.

"Mr. Devereaux, welcome to Kirov. I'm Agent Wallace, your primary contact. Agent Todd will be working with us behind the scenes." Erik shook both the agents' hands and took the proffered chair, waiting for the other man to continue. Wallace opened a folder that was on the small table and glanced over it to refresh his memory of the facts. "I received little by way of information on this mission. I assume it was hastily arranged due to extenuating circumstances?" At Erik's curt nod, he continued. "Stanislav Zakharov owns a villa just outside Kirov. It's heavily guarded but there are no electronic monitoring systems that we're aware of. Three days ago, they received a shipment from a private plane at the airfield transported in a coffin. Zakharov himself was on the plane and his car followed the cargo truck into the compound." Wallace closed the folder and leaned back in his chair. "Usually, coffin transport means he's bringing in another girl for his buyers, the primary one being Nikolai Vlascenko. Is the girl your primary target?"

"Yes. Her name is Alexandra Roberts…"

"Roberts? Any relation to the physicist couple that died almost a decade ago?"

"They were her parents." Erik's glare at the interruption seemed to sufficiently intimidate Agent Todd. "Zakharov, under the command of European Electronics, was tasked to recruit or eliminate Samuel Roberts, Alexandra's twin brother. Knowing he was living on borrowed time once he'd refused, Roberts mailed the information he'd discovered to his sister shortly before he was murdered. She was placed in protective custody until Zakharov and his partner, a former Agent named Christine Daaé, could be apprehended or neutralized."

"Who was crazy enough to put himself in Zakharov's cross hairs to protect this girl?" Wallace chuckled until he caught the flash of danger in Erik's strange golden eyes.

"She was placed in my custody. Daaé had been neutralized and Zakharov, who'd been shot by one of his own people, was placed in a federal prison hospital but escaped sometime around New Year's Day. He wasn't free long before he came after us both."

"I see," Wallace looked down at the file then back at Erik with a slight frown. "The file states that you're no longer with the Agency. Why were you involved at all, Mr. Devereaux?"

"Several reasons," Erik sighed and ran his hand along the edge of the flesh toned mask. He'd worn it for too long and the adhesive was beginning to irritate his skin. "Alexandra was placed in my custody as I knew how Zakharov's partner operated. I trained her for the Agency and worked with her before she betrayed her oath and her country. As for Zakharov…years ago, there were hopes that the slave trade could be dealt a critical blow by removing his father. My mission at the time had been to neutralize him at the earliest opportunity."

"Very well, what do you need from us?"

"Transportation, equipment, and information. I need a map of the villa and the compound, the exits and how many guards normally watch them, their schedules for deliveries and shift changes. As for equipment, I was unable to bring my weapons so will need at least two hand guns (Beretta 9mm is preferable), a sniper rifle, some throwing knives, and arctic clothing for starters. And finally, a small car or motorcycle in order to get Alexandra away from there to safety."

"When did you want to get started?"

"Nightfall."

As the sun began to set, Erik prepared to retrieve his Alexandra and permanently remove Zakharov as a threat. Dressed in the body hugging black neoprene suit, complete with gloves and black mask, he joined Agents Wallace and Todd in the Armory to gather the gear he'd need for his mission. Wallace looked up and recognition flickered in his eyes even as the color rushed from his face.

"_Le Fantôme_." The words came out as little more than a whisper.

"_Oui, messieurs_," gracefully executing a mocking bow, Erik smirked at the senior agent's awe and fear. "Did you acquire all I requested?"

Two cases were placed on the table and opened for his approval. One contained the winter gear he'd need to stave off hypothermia while the other contained his weapons and ammunition. Silently, Erik checked each weapon before loading it and placing it in the appropriate holster. More knives than Wallace thought it possible to conceal disappeared into hidden sheaths leaving only the sniper rifle in the case and a thin loop of rope at the masked man's waist.

"Agent Todd will remain here to coordinate a secondary entry should it become necessary. I'll accompany you to the villa but will remain with the car to watch the gate and alert you to any traffic. Are you sure you don't want someone to enter the compound with you?"

"I work best alone, Agent Wallace."

"Very well. The last scheduled delivery is at 2200 hours and guards change shifts at 0100. A midnight entry should give you time to retrieve the female and neutralize the target before fresh guards are in place." With a nod, Erik accompanied the CIA agent to a small, dark blue vehicle of unknown make. Wallace assured him it was a common car in the area and should draw little to no attention to them. Satisfied, he leaned back in the seat for a few moments' rest before embarking on his most important mission ever. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**January 28**

Somewhere in the house a clock struck midnight and announced the time to all who'd listen. Alex, layered as much as possible in the clothing left for her, wedged a chair under the doorknob to postpone discovery before entering the bathroom to trigger the hidden door. On the inside, an unused chemical glow stick hung from a nail and Alex snapped and shook it before closing the door behind her. Using the faint glow, she examined the secret passage with curiosity. Since she'd spent most of her life in apartments, she had little experience with single family dwellings but she still felt that hidden passageways were outside the norm. The walls, floor, and ceiling were fairly rough, like they'd used the lumber they'd discarded and deemed unfit for the public rooms of the house. Alex wondered if the intense cold was the reason there were no spider webs or other signs of dust as she couldn't envision it being used too terribly often. Using the dim light from the glow stick, she carefully walked along the dark passageway until it branched off in two opposite directions. Uncertain of which direction to take, she chose the path that branched to the right and hoped for the best.

This passage actually contained a web or two as well as a light coating of dust. Faint light trickled through knotholes in the wood and she could use them to peek into the rooms as she passed. Most were filled with standard furniture such as a living room suite or a small dinner table and chairs, but one caught her eye and gave her pause: the kitchen. A kitchen meant knives and she would feel a lot better with some kind of weapon. The room was lit only by a couple of security lights and unoccupied so Alex searched for a way into it from the passage. Finding a small groove, she removed the clippers from their hiding place and, using the file, pressed along the groove until she heard a click. Careful not to bump into anything, she quietly searched through the drawers until she located the knives. She knew she'd not be able to use or conceal a large one effectively so she settled for a basic serrated steak knife and hoped it would do. Returning to the passage, Alex eased the door closed and resumed her trek only to come to a dead end. Cursing silently, she turned and made her way back to the passage that led to her room and this time took the left-hand branch.

About ten feet from the intersection, she encountered a set of metal stairs. Old and rusty, they spiraled to the floor below; Alex prayed they would support her weight. As she inched down them, she did her best to avoid the most rusted places. Each creak and groan of the ancient metal caused her heart to leap into her throat where it felt like it was clawing its way free. Her palms were sweaty on the railings which did nothing for her nerves as they often slid on the metal bars. Halfway down, her foot stepped onto, and then through, a rusty stair causing her to lose her balance as well as the glow stick. The ringing sounds as it bounced down the stair case echoed unnaturally loud in the small chamber. Barely catching herself before she followed her glow stick and tumbled the rest of the way to the bottom, Alex felt the bite of the jagged, broken stair on her ankle and knew she was bleeding. Without the light, she had no way to see how badly she'd been cut but the throbbing that had set in let her know it'd also twisted when she stumbled. Cursing her bad luck, she gingerly continued down the stairs by touch, taking far longer than she would have liked.

Reaching the base of the stair case, Alex grabbed the glow stick and used it to assess the damage to her ankle. The cut was fairly deep but not bleeding too badly. If she made it out alive, it'd need stitches so it could heal properly. Using the kitchen knife, she cut the hem off one of the shirts she was wearing and used it to bind the wound as well as provide a small amount of stability to the sprain. Pushing herself up from the floor, she braced against the walls to use them as a crutch of sorts and limped down the passage.

Sounds of people moving around and talking drifted up the passageway and alerted her that she was no longer the only one awake. Slipping the glow stick in her jeans pocket, Alex quietly hobbled forward to look for a way to see inside the rooms. She peered through one that was low enough to allow her to sit and rest her ankle and was instantly on full alert. Before her was a guard room and many of the men were moving around and getting dressed. If this was time for the shifts to change, Alex knew she had a small window of escape that she had to be prepared to use and it was closing rapidly. Rising, she moved down the passage with renewed determination.

The further she went, the colder the air got until she was certain she was away from the main house and close to the outside. When the passage came to a dead end, a white winter parka lay on the floor along with a pair of snow boots. Changing her shoes quickly, Alex winced as she tightened the boots around her injured ankle; perhaps they would provide some support. Zipping the white parka and pulling the hood over her head, she found a pair of thick gloves in one of the pockets. Triggering the latch, she whispered a prayer of gratitude to Katya, pulled on the gloves, and eased out into the bitter cold.

The lights surrounding the perimeter of the compound momentarily blinded her as she left the dark passageway and made her more aware of how dangerous her escape could prove to be. Shaking from both the cold and nerves, Alex hugged the wall of the building she'd just exited while looking for any kind of gap along the outer wall. Through the heavily falling snow, the wall, crafted from metal and concrete, appeared to encircle the entire villa except for the front gate. With a guard house on either side, Alex ruled it out fairly quickly. There was no way she could manage to get out without being seen and caught. She could hear the guards chatting as they went about their patrols and plastered herself against the building once more, her heart pounding in her chest. Months of inactivity had made them careless, however, and they never saw the figure huddled against the side of the building. Waiting until the patrol had passed, Alex darted across the open yard to hide between a pair of vehicles. Her breath was coming in rapid pants and she feared it'd give away her position but, after several minutes with no alarms, she risked moving towards the back of the cars to assess her next target. Again, the perimeter wall had no obvious gaps or breaks and Alex despaired of ever leaving the compound. Then, she saw something that gave her a bit of hope. A utility shed stood close enough to the wall that, if she could get to the top of it unseen, she should be able to make it over the wall.

Watching the patrols, she noticed they spent more time chatting on either end of their route than walking the perimeter. Alex waited for them to pass until they both had their backs to her, prayed her ankle would continue to support her, and quickly ran for the shed and crawled beneath it. For once she was thankful the snow was falling so quickly as it covered her tracks almost entirely before the guards reversed their patrols to make their way back. When they met once more, they chatted for a brief period and then continued on their way. Alex slowly eased towards the wall from under the shed and backed straight into an armed guard catching a smoke out of sight of his superiors.

"_Кто вы? Что вы здесь делаете_?" Alex shook her head in confusion at the guard's questions, having no way to understand what he said. When he unclipped the radio from his belt, she knew she had to act quickly or be captured once more.

Stepping forward, she grabbed the back of his neck in one gloved hand and pulled him down for a deep, hard kiss. The guard resisted only slightly before turning to press her back to the shed and pushing his tongue into her mouth. Stifling her disgust at the taste of tobacco and alcohol, she freed the knife from her pocket and plunged it deeply into his sternum. He fought against the pain but the serrated blade caught on a rib and refused to pull free. After several terrible moments, the guard dropped to the ground, his eyes as cold and lifeless as the snow he now rested upon. Horrified, she knew she'd see his face in her nightmares; his dead eyes staring into nothing, unseeing and unblinking. Alex could feel the bile rising as she stripped the guard of his radio, side arm, and the extra magazine he had in his pocket. Shoving him under the shed, she pushed the bloody snow on top of him. Unable to fight the turmoil in her stomach as the acrid stench of blood wafted up from the snow, she vomited until there was nothing left in her stomach. Using a handful of clean snow to wash the taste from her mouth somewhat, Alex covered the evidence of her weak stomach before assessing the wall and how she'd make her escape.

The concertina wire that coiled along the top edge would be intensely problematic; Alex had no desire to cut herself to ribbons during her escape. The door to the shed was locked and she eyed the man she'd stuffed under it, feeling a bit nauseous at what she knew she'd have to do. Waiting for the patrols to pass the shed once more, Alex steeled herself to search the dead guard for a set of keys. Unhooking the key ring, she cycled through them until one finally unlocked the door. Alex crawled into the building, staying low in case there were windows that would give away her position. Inside, she found exactly what she needed: a large plastic bin and some bolt cutters. The step ladder was tempting but the bin might not look as suspicious on first glance. Running a shaking hand over her face and into her hair, Alex prayed this would work and she would find someplace safe to hide until she could reach a US embassy that could get her home.

The guards hadn't returned from their last patrol and Alex knew her window of escape had just shrunk to minuscule proportions. A fresh set of guards were about to come on duty and they'd not be as careless as the ones who were tired and ready to go sleep. Quickly pulling the bin close to the wall, she climbed on top of it and snipped the concertina wire. Alex cringed at the loud metallic ping as the two ends coiled tightly away from the break point and, choosing speed over grace, she scrambled over the wall to drop to the snow on the other side. She spotted a copse of trees about twenty feet away and sprinted for them, never seeing the shadow that watched her flight and shifted position towards her. Quickly, she darted around the trunk of one of the largest trees and then peered back towards the compound to see if anyone had noticed her and called the alarm. Relaxing slightly when there wasn't an immediate outcry, she backed further into the woods and right into a firm, male chest. Just as she was about to scream, a leather glove pressed tightly over her mouth and she was dragged further into the sheltering tree line.

* * *

_**A/N:** I've hit a bit of a bump; not on where I want the story to go, but in how to get there. Chapters may be a bit slower as I attempt make them flow a bit easier and now sound so stilted :P Now for translation of the Russian phrase, above. Sorry if I've forgotten a few other times but feel assured that Alex understands them about as much as most of you do :)_

"Кто вы? Что вы здесь делаете?"_ - The guard's questions translate as "Who are you?" What are you doing here? "_


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

**January 28**

Slipping silently through the small copse of trees on the southern edge of the compound, Erik climbed the tallest and watched as the guards drank away the cold. Though their patrols covered the entire perimeter of the villa, they'd had no opposition in so long that they were careless and complacent. Often they stopped to chat, warm their hands by fires burning in barrels, or to replenish whatever was in the hip flasks they drank from; several of them had fashioned mancala boards from egg cartons and bottle caps ignoring their duties for a game near the fire. As a result, there were many times that they left areas unattended for relatively long periods of time. It was during one of these times that Erik eased from the tree onto the perimeter wall, being very careful of the dangerous coil of the concertina wire. Pausing to ensure he hadn't been seen, he then leapt onto the ground near the rear of the villa. The lock on the back door proved to be little challenge and he quickly entered the house and closed the door behind him. Stripping off the parka and white gloves, he placed them behind an antique secretary before blending into the shadows like a ghost.

The rooms he passed on the ground floor seemed mostly utilitarian in design. The kitchen, foyer, library, and dining room were all empty and undisturbed; the only activity being in the guard barracks towards the northern side of the villa. Erik listened at the door for confirmation of their shift schedule as well as any news that may be important. The men talked of nothing that had any bearing on his mission so he returned to the kitchen to look for the servant's staircase to the upper floor. He was halfway up the stairs when he heard the sound of drawers being carefully opened and closed behind him. Whoever was searching through them was attempting to do so without drawing attention. Unhooking his Punjab lasso, he crept to the bottom of the stairs to look around the corner only to find the room empty. Uneasy at the thought of someone behind him, Erik gave the kitchen a quick but thorough search. He found nothing out of place nor any sign that someone had recently been in the room. He waited for several more moments, trying to see if there was anything or anyone hiding in the gloom, before resuming his ascent.

The hall on the upper floor was dimly lit with doors lining both sides but no visible guards. He sneered at Zakharov's confidence in his outside security; a confidence that was quite obviously misplaced. Silently, Erik began a room by room search for the Russian criminal and his Alexandra. The first two rooms yielded nothing but dust and cloth-covered furniture, sure signs that they'd not been used recently. Not leaving anything to chance, he searched the armoires and bathrooms in both but their unused states only confirmed his belief that they'd been empty for some time. The third contained a single guard who, instead of attending to his job, was ogling the centerfold of a popular adult magazine. With a smirk, Erik slipped the thin lasso around the man's neck and neutralized the potential threat to his mission. Catching the body before it hit the floor, he returned the dead man to the chair and arranged him so that he appeared to have simply fallen asleep on the job, girlie mag opened to the man's last sight in this lifetime.

Across the hall, Erik encountered his first locked door. He picked the lock easily only to find that the door still wouldn't budge. Not wishing to make noise and alert any remaining guards, he abandoned the room with the intention of returning once he'd secured this floor. Of the next four rooms, only one had another guard who proved to be a bit more dedicated to his job than the first. After a moment of hesitation at the unexpected intrusion, the guard pulled a knife and advanced on the masked man. With a skillful flick of the wrist, the lasso flew across the small distance and tightened around the wrist until the knife fell from numb fingers. Using the distraction to close the distance, Erik wrapped his fingers around the man's neck and held him steady while his blade slid easily between his opponent's ribs to pierce his heart. The guard made a brief gurgling sound, bloody foam gathering at the corners of his mouth, before he joined his comrade in the afterlife. Erik placed him on the bed to hide the blood that was quickly soaking into his clothing and continued his search. None of the rooms housed Alexandra or Zakharov nor did they show any signs of ever having done so.

Returning to the one room he'd been unable to search, Erik pulled a Gerber multi-tool from its pouch and pried the pins from the hinges. Once that was finished and the door set aside, he discovered the resistance had been a chair wedged firmly beneath the doorknob. The rest of the room, however, was empty though it showed signs of recent occupancy. _Was this Alexandra's prison and, if so, where had she gone? _A quick search of the room revealed no clues and the bathroom was just as unforthcoming. Frustrated, he was about to return to the hall when a flash of movement out the window caught his attention. Careful to avoid being seen, Erik peered into the courtyard below to see a lone figure darting from below to crouch between two vehicles. Alexandra! Racing from the room, he paused only to replace the door and then took the stairs quickly but quietly. If it wasn't his fiancée perhaps he or she could be persuaded to tell him where she was.

With the guards moving around in preparation for the shift change, it took Erik longer to exit the villa than it had to enter it. By the time he'd stepped back into the bitter cold and snow, there was no sign of the figure he'd spotted from the window. Stifling a few choice curses in several languages, he ran to the last place he'd spotted her in hopes of discovering where she'd gone from there. The steady snowfall had mostly filled in a set of small, fresh footprints that led to a utility shed. Once he'd darted behind the small structure, Erik was greeted with the unpleasant scents of blood and bile. A quick glance took in the open door, the bin, and the gap in the concertina wire and he was up and over the wall as quietly as possible.

Fresh footprints were quickly filling with snow as they led into the trees and, eager as he was, Erik still remained cautious as he followed them. After all, there was no guarantee that the figure he'd spotted earlier or the one who'd made these prints belonged to his fiancée. Palming a knife in one hand and the lasso in his other, he slipped behind a tree and came face to face with Agent Wallace. In his grasp, with a hand over her mouth, was his Alexandra.

"Well, well, well…you were quicker than I expected. Leave it to _Le Fantôme_ to screw up a schedule."

"What did he offer you to betray your country, Wallace? Money, power, your choice of women?" Erik shifted the knife hidden in his hand to a more comfortable position. If the traitorous agent would keep still, he'd be able to end this quickly. Unfortunately, Wallace was quite familiar with _Le Fantôme's_ skills and kept shifting behind Alexandra's body to keep from presenting a clear target.

"Can I have 'All of the Above' for $500?" The agent chuckled at the Jeopardy reference and caressed Alex's cheek with his thumb, delighting in Erik's rising fury. "You see, there has to be a buffer between Stanislav and a man of sophisticated tastes like Vlascenko. In exchange for omitting certain facts from my reports, I am that buffer. I take the girls, break them in, and train them properly for the life they will have under his tender care. I was greatly looking forward to training this one. It's not every day I can bed the Phantom's whore." Wallace grinned and whispered to Alex just loud enough for Erik to hear. "Don't worry, honey, I'll erase those horrible memories of having to fuck the monster. You'll see what a real man is like."

Erik watched the fury and disgust rise in Alexandra's pale green eyes along with something else. Her gaze darted between his hand and his face and arched a brow in inquiry. At his nearly imperceptible nod, she closed her eyes and then put all her weight, fear, anger, and training into the elbow she threw into the agent's stomach. When he doubled slightly and loosened his hold on her, she grabbed the hand that had stifled her cries and twisted. Once behind him, with his arm angled awkwardly at his back, Alex planted a solid kick to the back of his knee. Wallace stumbled forward in an effort to regain his balance but, instead, practically fell into the waiting arms – and lasso – of a very irate Phantom. Alex quickly searched the rogue agent for weapons and removed all she found before stepping out of arms' reach.

"Are you alright, _ma petite chère_?" Though his hold on the thin rope around the agent's neck never wavered, the care and concern in his voice caressed Alex as tenderly as a lover's touch.

"I am now, my love." Placing the extra ammunition in her pocket, she motioned towards Wallace with the silenced Beretta she'd just confiscated from him. "Who's this disgusting piece of filth?"

"A CIA agent who Zakharov managed to subvert; this would explain the ease of my entry and both of our escapes. We will need to be doubly careful now that I know we've been compromised. The rest of the agents may be clean but we can't take that risk."

Tugging on the lasso until Wallace tilted his head up, Erik asked for Zakharov's location. The agent merely smiled and shrugged. Alex pulled the man's scarf from his neck and stuffed it in his mouth. Not willing to allow the traitor to cause further delays while the guards caught up with them, she drew the silenced weapon she'd taken off him and shot him in the knee. Closing the distance, she placed the hot barrel against the side of the agent's neck and whispered softly in his ear. Though the man blanched, he shook his head and Alex let the gun drop until it was just below waist height. A single arch of her brow along with a cruel smile teasing the corners of her lips and suddenly the acidic, ammonia-like smell of urine wafted through the frigid air. Plucking the scarf from Wallace's mouth, Alex repeated Erik's question. This time, the agent answered.

Having obtained the necessary information, the masked man sent Alex to the copse's edge to 'stand guard' while he ensured Wallace wouldn't follow them or alert anyone. Once the body had dropped to the snow, Erik hurried to her side and pulled her into a tight embrace. He shushed her stammered apologies with a deep yet tender kiss.

"Once more, _ma petite_, you are missing part of the set of jewelry I gave you on New Year's Eve." He slid her ring back onto her finger before brushing her tears away. There was more that needed to be said from both of them but it would have to wait. Now, survival and safety was of the utmost importance. "Come. I do not trust the vehicle Wallace and I arrived in so we'll have to walk for a while. There should be someone who can help us in the next village but it's about forty kilometers from here."

Alexandra's trusting smile tugged at his heart and he pulled her back into his arms for another quick embrace. Brushing a gentle kiss across her lips, Erik stepped back and motioned her to follow him as quietly as possible. They would take care of Zakharov later.

**xxxx**

Carla adjusted her barely-decent minidress and knocked on the penthouse apartment's door. The sultry smile she bestowed upon the man who answered promised a night filled with the most decadent of delights. As the door closed behind them, she left a trail of clothing – his and hers – all the way to the bedroom where she fulfilled this promise in various and sundry ways. In between their energetic and adventuresome trysts, they sank further into hedonistic debauchery with fine brandy and rows of white powder. Sipping her drink while floating along the drug-induced high, she asked about their mutual business acquaintance, Robert Chaney, and their triumph over Alexandra Roberts and the intimidating Erik Devereaux.

Blankenship finished rolling his fifty dollar bill into a tube and inhaled one row of powder before going into a long, drunken ramble about how his father never respected or was proud of him. Chaney, he said, promised a way to prove himself as not only equal to his father but better than him. Some colorless, flavorless liquid in his after-dinner cognac and suddenly he, Michael Blankenship, and not his arrogant prick of a father was head of Omni. Snorting the second row quickly and skillfully, he showed her the original video he'd made all those years ago of the young Alex and himself. As she praised his forethought, Blankenship showed her a cabinet filled with all the other films he'd made over the years of various girlfriends and partners…not all of whom were willing. Or of legal age. Wallowing in her wide-eyed approval, he told her how he'd blackmailed an employee with a gambling addiction into altering a popular porn video by replacing the actress' face with Alex's. He also told her he'd used the employee to bring back an old classic: cement shoes. The man was a liability after all, he reasoned. Carla nodded and attempted to reward the CEO for his resourcefulness but the alcohol and drugs in her system conspired against her and, unconscious, she slumped over his naked chest.

Two floors down from the penthouse suite, Da'ud al-Zahir and three agents listened to and recorded the information that was being transmitted from above. Once they were satisfied they had enough for a conviction, the agents left the former policeman with the tapes to issue an arrest warrant for the two lovers. Alone, Da'ud shook his head over Erik's unconventional methods and hoped his friend had equal success in Europe.

* * *

_A/N: Things are moving along slowly but surely :) Thank you to all who've reviewed!_


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

**January 29**

As the fog of a drug induced slumber cleared from her brain, Carla Goldman opened her eyes with a groan. Upon seeing her surroundings, she sat up abruptly in shock and instantly regretted it. She cradled her pounding head in her hands and tried to remember just how she'd managed to wake up in jail yet again. This hadn't been such a rare occurrence when she was younger but she thought those days were over the moment she joined the opera. The intriguing and somewhat frightening owner and composer had informed her that he wouldn't tolerate such from his actors and especially not from his principals. Carla had learned early in her contract to either avoid the police or know which ones could be persuaded to see that there were no records of her arrest. She hoped this unfortunate slip would prove no different.

A groan, followed by a muffled curse, pulled her attention from her own problems towards the cell across from hers. Shocked, Carla realized its occupant was none other than Omni CEO, Michael Blankenship. Had she been with him when they were arrested? It frustrated her that she could remember the last few days only in the vaguest of ways; she felt she was missing something important. Her introspections were interrupted by the slamming of a large, metal door which caused her head to throb painfully in response.

"Ah, Ms. Goldman, you're awake." The coffee-skinned man seemed familiar to her in some way but she couldn't immediately place him. "I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that you've fulfilled your side of the deal admirably. The ADA is quite impressed. We have plenty of evidence to indict Blankenship on possession of an illegal substance, child pornography, and sexual misconduct with a minor as well as helping us to obtain the necessary search warrants to pursue conspiracy to kidnapping and murder. Quite an accomplishment, I should say."

"What? What deal? What are you talking about?" Though her head throbbed with each word, Carla couldn't prevent her voice from rising with each word. She had the feeling that something, somewhere, had gone terribly wrong.

"Why, the deal you made to gather evidence on Blankenship and Stanislav Zakharov, whom you know as Robert Chaney, for the murder of Blankenship's father and the kidnapping of Alexandra Roberts in exchange for immunity. I don't know how you got him to spill it all but we are…"

"You stupid bitch!" Blankenship had finally shaken off enough of the drugs in his system to understand what was going on. "You're going to get us both killed! Chaney isn't anyone to cross. Do you think these fools can protect you? Once he knows you made a deal with the cops, he'll be after you to teach you not to fuck with him or those he works with."

Carla recoiled from the sheer fury, hatred, and terror in the businessman's voice. What did the foreign man mean about murder? She didn't know anything about a murder and she only wanted to get rid of that Roberts bitch so that she could convince Erik that…

Erik.

All the blood fled her face so quickly that she felt faint. Everything was so jumbled up that she didn't know what was real and what wasn't. Dropping her head into her hands, Carla groaned and tried to remember the last few days. She knew Alex had left the theater and that Erik had requested to see her shortly afterwards but that was when things got foggy. Did he do something to her? There were all sorts of rumors about Erik Devereaux and his unusual abilities but she'd scarcely believed them. Sure, they lent him an aura of mystery and danger that was extremely alluring but that was all. No one could really control another human being with just a voice, no matter how lovely it was. Right?

"Is everything ok, Ms. Goldman?" She finally remembered who he was; he was Erik's pet cop. Da'ud or something like that. Damn foreigner. Though his question was solicitous of her well being, his voice betrayed his apathy. He knew what had happened; he had to!

"What did he do to me?"

"What did _who_ do to you, Ms. Goldman?"

"You know who! Devereaux! What did he do to me, you son of a bitch?" Her panic was steadily rising and the insult ended on a note worthy of the opera stage.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Ms. Goldman. You left the Metropolitan a few days ago when you discovered that the understudy had been training for the lead; which, I should point out, is part of her duties as your understudy. Erik tried to persuade you to stay but you refused to listen. You must have gone straight to the ADA's office after that and yesterday we were finally able to arrange things sufficiently to gather the information we needed." The former policeman spread his hands and shrugged. "If you met with Erik once you'd left the opera house, I am not aware of it.

"Someone should be down shortly, though, to release you. You will be asked to remain in the city in case testimony is needed. On behalf of the ADA, I thank you for your cooperation." With a small bow, Da'ud left the confused woman to her cell, her thoughts, and the verbal abuse of her former lover.

"Remain in the city?" Blankenship sneered at the opera singer. "I'd advise you to leave the country but there's no where you can go that Chaney won't find you. Do you know what he does to traitors, Carla? Do you know how he treats fancy sluts like you who rat him out to the police? He has a friend, I'm told, who needs fresh women regularly because his clients can get a bit too…enthusiastic with the goods."

"You mean he runs a whorehouse?"

"Oh no, nothing so pedestrian. His clients purchase the goods in full to use however they so choose. Some use the girls for sex, some want to watch her with another or many others, some like to inflict pain…I've even heard of a few who use them in labs for experimental purposes." Carla's eyes widened as Blankenship spilled the foul deeds of those who dealt with Chaney's associate.

"You're talking about selling people as if they're no different from a sofa or a tv!"

"Not people, Carla. Women. You see, there is quite the difference."

Retreating to the very furthest corner of the cell, Carla Goldman thought back to the man she'd met only recently for lunch. Handsome, smooth, extremely polite…but even then there'd been something that made her skin crawl. If only she'd listened to her instincts she might not be in this situation. Suddenly, leaving the cell wasn't as enticing as when she'd first awakened.

**xxxx**

The couple had trudged through the deep snow until the sun began to rise on the horizon. His black mask made it difficult to enter a tavern or Bed & Breakfast without alerting those they wished to avoid but he knew Alex couldn't make it much longer in the bitter cold. On the outskirts of Kirov, Erik found an abandoned farm whose barn appeared sturdy enough to provide some protection from the elements and allow his companion to catch a few hours sleep. Once they were inside, he directed her in helping to create a fire ring so that they could have a bit of warmth without burning the building down around them. He kept the fire small so that the smoke wouldn't be too obvious and watched Alexandra carefully as she warmed her frozen fingers and toes.

"You need to remove your shoes and gloves, _ma petite_, so they can dry or you risk frostbite. A bed of straw will prove to be quite warm."

"I'd be warmer if you held me. There's much to be said for body heat you know." Peeling the wet, icy gloves from her hands, Alex winced when the heat made her numb fingers tingle painfully. Erik helped her with her boots and socks and left her by the fire to gather things they'd need for the short time they'd camp here.

"I know you would, minx, but one of us must keep watch. I won't have you recaptured just because I couldn't resist you."

Her pout was playful and they bantered in similar vein as Erik created a spit of sorts over the small fire to dry their shoes, socks, and gloves while Alex gathered straw for a makeshift bed. Nerves, exhaustion, and lack of sleep jockied for dominance as she grew warmer and her eyes drifted shut. Erik smoothed the hair from her face tenderly and hoped his contact hadn't been compromised in the years since he'd been in the area.

An hour drifted past and the masked man checked his shoes and, satisfied they were dry enough, quickly slipped them on. Leaving the gloves for the moment, he double-checked all points of entry into the barn. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary but he'd felt it in his gut; something was amiss. The ladder to the loft was missing a few rungs but was otherwise sound. Making his way up top, Erik cautiously eased over to the window and tried to find whatever was making him anxious. He could see nothing other than a blanket of white snow and the trees they'd left an hour ago. Frustrated, he started back down the ladder when he smelled it. Smoke. And lots of it.

Waking Alex, he quietly ordered her to put her shoes on and make it quick while he tried to pinpoint the origin of the smoke that was quickly filling the barn. When flames began to flicker under and around the doors and windows, he knew they didn't have long before the entire building was engulfed. Erik grabbed Alex's hand and pulled her over to the loft and practically threw her up the ladder. He followed quickly as the doors succumbed to the flames and fell into the barn. Zakharov's men were outside with firearms trained on the doorway in case they tried to escape. Rushing to the window, he was relieved they'd yet to cover the back of the barn and pulled Alex onto the roof.

"If we want to survive this, we're going to have to jump, Alexandra."

"Jump? Are you crazy? We'll break a leg or be killed or…" The fear in her voice was rising along with the volume and Erik placed a hand over her mouth to keep her from giving away their position.

"Are you scared of heights, _ma petite_?" For some reason, after all they'd been through, the thought amused him somewhat. Shaking her head, she managed to make a weak joke of her fear.

"Oh no, it's not the height that bothers me, it's that sudden stop at the end when I fall from it."

"Then we'll jump together and I'll help cushion you."

"Why can't we just take out the bad guys at the front and go out that way? We have the advantage of higher elevation, right?" Clinging to the window casing, she glanced back inside and noticed that the flames were licking merrily along the old wooden walls. The straw she'd gathered for her makeshift bed was now just a tiny pile of ash.

"Because then we'd have to also go through the fire, _mon amour_, and that won't be nearly as forgiving as the soft snow below us. We must jump, it's the only way." Erik pried her fingers from the window and led her to the roof's edge. With a gentle kiss to reassure her, he took her hand and indicated they'd jump on the count of three. "One…two…" Just as he said the word 'three', Alex's fear overrode her common sense and she snatched her hand from his. Already in motion, Erik jumped safely to the ground alone. Again mindful of those who guarded the front, he resorted to ventriloquism to encourage her.

"I cannot leave you there, _mon amour_. Sit on the edge and simply slide; I will catch you, I promise. We must go soon, though, for Zakharov's men will circle the building when we don't emerge from the front."

Trembling all over, Alex sat and scooted to the edge of the roof. Erik seemed so far away…there was no way he could catch her. She forced herself to keep moving forward when every instinct screamed at her to retreat. Teetering on the edge, she looked down at her fiancé and was instantly caught in his warm amber gaze. A feeling of peace settled over her and she smiled. Gripping the edge to ease over the last few inches, there was a thunderous crack and the roof buckled beneath her. Erik watched in horror as the roof, carrying his Alexandra, collapsed into the burning building.


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: The story is well on its way to finishing up; however, I do have a warning for some of the future chapters. Due to the absolutely evil nature of Zakharov and his associates, some scenes may not be suitable for children, teens,...or some adults. Evil people doing evil things and having evil things done to them are all hovering in the wings just waiting to be published. My goal was to be disturbing and I hope by the end you will think I've achieved that goal. Don't say I didn't warn you :)_

* * *

**Chapter 18**

**January 29**

The slamming of a heavy metal door jerked Carla Goldman away from her troubled thoughts and back to awareness. She could hear the jingling of keys and stood just as the guard reached the door to her cell. He was a large man, more beer gut than muscle, and he smelled of stale tobacco and coffee. Opening the door, he stood to the side but his protruding stomach took up enough room that she was forced to brush up against him as she walked through the doorway. He chuckled at her glare, closed and locked the cell door, and led her back to freedom.

"You're not done with this, bitch." Blankenship's hand darted through the bars to grab her arm painfully. "I hope you enjoy looking over your shoulder because they'll be coming for you." Wrenching her arm from his tight grasp, Carla hurried to catch up. His laughter echoed in her head long after the metal door closed to block out the sound.

There were several forms to fill out and she had to sign for her belongings which seemed to take forever but wasn't nearly long enough. Once everything was finished, checked, signed, and her personal effects returned, the clerk informed her that she was free to go. Carla slowly walked out of the station and tried to think of where to go. She couldn't go to her apartment; if Chaney did come after her, that'd be the first place he'd look. There was always the opera house…they told her that she'd quit but surely they were mistaken? She was their star, their prima donna! Even if she had resigned her position, she was certain the managers would allow her to return with no ramifications. Convinced all was as it should be, Carla flagged a taxi and directed him to the Metropolitan Opera and Ballet.

As the cab driver weaved his way through the dense traffic, his passenger was busy cleaning her face with a disposable wipe before reapplying her makeup. There wasn't enough time to worry about her nails, so she simply removed the polish and hoped the false tips held until she'd reestablished herself at the opera house. Carla never had cause to look up from her primping so she didn't notice the driver turning off the light and shutting down the meter. It wasn't until the car was suddenly plunged into the darkness of a tunnel that she realized something was wrong.

"Hey! This ain't the way to the opera house. I'm not paying you to go the scenic route, you know!" The driver never even glanced at her in the rear view mirror; he simply turned his radio up a bit louder and drove a bit faster. Blankenship's words teased at her ears and she felt her body grow cold with her fear.

"Hey, you! Driver! I'm not kidding, man, I need to go to the opera house. Hell, just let me out here and I'll get another cab. No need to do something you'll only regret later, right?" Carla was putting on the best performance of her career as not once did her voice shake with the terror that was rising in her. When the cabbie continued to ignore her, she shook the back of his seat to get his attention.

Things being what they are, she learned quickly that not all attention is good. The car swerved sharply onto the shoulder and parked. The driver turned to glare at her but her eyes were glued on the large handgun that was pointed at her head. Like a mouse hypnotized by a cobra, Carla never looked away from single, menacing black eye. She desperately tried the door handle only to find it locked.

"The doors are locked 'til I say otherwise so quit trying to break the handle. Now, little canary, let me lay down a few ground rules. I will drive until we get to our destination. You, however, have a choice to either ride in the backseat or in the trunk. It makes no difference to me, understand?" At her frightened nod, he let the pistol drop out of her sight with a grunt of satisfaction. "The boss don't want you hurt but I'll be damned if you're going to bust out my eardrums with your squawking or rattle my teeth from my head. Now sit back, shut up, and be thankful you ain't already dead." With that, the man turned to face the front once more, put the cab in gear, and merged into the busy traffic.

Choosing the wiser path, Carla clamped her lips closed and stared at the buildings as they flew by. She tried to remember store fronts, street names, anything that might alert her as to where they were going but knew better than to ask. She didn't want to risk being stuffed in the trunk. The buildings they passed began to look seedier and more run down; wherever they were, it wasn't in the best part of the city. The cab drove through the open bay doors of an unmarked, nondescript warehouse and the driver cut the ignition. She jumped as the large metal doors slammed closed, echoing throughout the building. Two men, one slim and dressed in an expensive tailored suit and the other burly yet also impeccably dressed, joined the driver as he left the cab. They spoke for a while too low for her to hear and, what she did manage to catch, was in a language the singer couldn't understand. What she did understand, however, was the exchange of a wad of cash for the keys to the cab. Were they merely paying the driver for his services or had she just been sold like a piece of beef? The smile the driver gave her as he walked away from the car was cruel and she was more than afraid she knew the answer to her question.

At a nod from his companion, the burly man unlocked the door and pulled her from the cab with a firm grip on her wrist. Tugging her along behind him, he followed the slimmer one into a small office attached to the warehouse, down some stairs, and into a dark, damp basement. Several times, Carla attempted to discover what they wanted with her, offering them money, sex, whatever she could think of if only they'd let her go. Neither man spoke to her but she could tell they understood by the smirks on their faces. The man holding her wrist waited for the other to unlock a metal door before tossing her carelessly inside. Her sharp cry of pain and surprise was drowned by the loud clang as the door was slammed shut behind her. The turning of a key in the lock was the most terrible sound she'd ever heard. Crawling towards a corner far from the door, Carla sat with her knees to her chest and hugged them with her arms. In the silence, she wondered if she'd ever leave the room alive.

Time had little meaning in the dark basement cell and it could have been minutes or hours since she'd been locked in when she heard the click of the key once more. A Styrofoam bowl filled with some sort of soup was placed on the floor right inside the door before it was locked securely once more. A plastic spoon, a stale dinner roll, and a bottle of what she hoped was water filled out her dinner. Carla didn't fully trust them not to put something in the food but it had been too long since she'd eaten to leave it untouched. It was decent enough and she had soon emptied the bowl. She was still drinking the water when the door opened once more.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Goldman."

**xxxx**

Cringing from the intense heat, Erik searched for Alexandra through the burning wreckage of the barn. He heard a faint cough and was about to wade into the flames to retrieve his love when a bullet zipped past his head to lodge into the fiery wall. Crouching and pulling his weapon, he scanned the perimeter for the gunman. He glanced at where the bullet had struck the wood and followed its general trajectory to snowdrift about 50 feet away. With the fire behind him, Erik knew he might as well paint a glowing bull's eye on his chest but he refused to leave until he'd pulled Alex to safety. All senses on alert, he fired the moment he saw movement from behind the snowdrift. A strangled cry and thud of a body rewarded his vigilance. Searching for other threats and finding none, he returned his attention to the burning barn.

"Alexandra!" He kept his voice as low as he could and hoped she could hear it over the roar of the flames. "Where are you, _petite_?"

An old board served as a makeshift shovel as he scooped up piles of snow and dumped it on the fire. So intent was he on clearing a path that he didn't notice the stirring of the gunman behind the snowdrift. The man struggled to his knees, blood running down his face where the bullet had torn a deep furrow, and steadied his arm on the stained snow. Behind him, the sound of a bullet being chambered was Erik's first indication that the gunman had survived. Cursing himself for not ensuring the man was dead, he knew he'd never get to his weapon in time. Taking a deep breath, he dove to the side just as he heard the soft pop of a silenced weapon. He crouched in place for a moment more in confusion; he was neither injured nor had he heard a bullet hit the wall.

"Erik," a faint voice called his name, followed by coughing. "Get me out of here and I promise I'll jump next time."

Looking through the fire, he saw Alexandra shoving her pistol back into her jacket pocket as she crouched beneath a tent-like structure made of burning boards. The long central beam, still connected at the back of the barn, had fallen to the ground at the front and was now protecting her from the caved in roof. As she burrowed her way through the snow, Erik furiously dug towards her. When the path was clear, he grabbed her arms and pulled her from the building. Scooping her into his arms, he darted for the protection of the trees. He bid her remain where she was and skirted along the trees to remove the other threats. The guards at the front of the barn were about as professional as the ones inside the compound. It was like shooting fish in a barrel to pick off each guard as he stomped his feet in the snow to maintain circulation or warmed his hands with the fire of the burning building. Satisfied that all had been eliminated, Erik returned to where he'd left Alexandra.

She was leaning against a tree trunk when he reached her side. Her parka was singed along her left side and she had buried her left hand in the snow. Kneeling, he inspected her hand and was happy to see that the burn wasn't too bad. Erik helped her to her feet and guided her towards the front of the barn, remaining just inside the tree line. Leaving her briefly, he ensured the area was still clear. Alexandra joined him as they quickly made their way towards the truck Zakharov's men had arrived in. Though she was keeping up, Erik noticed she was favoring one leg. He hoped it wasn't broken from her fall. They both scrambled into the truck and within moments were roaring down the snow-covered road.

"Where does your leg hurt, ma petite? I noticed you were limping."

"Oh…near my ankle. I cut it on the way out of the villa. It just needs some antibiotic and a bandage." Alexandra smiled and shrugged off his concern though the throbbing around the wound made her worry it had gotten infected. The look Erik gave her before returning his attention to the road let her know he didn't believe it was as minor as she implied. Settling into the seat, she was about to drift off to sleep when he spoke again.

"By the way…what did you tell Wallace to make him give up Zakharov's position?"

"Well, when he was stubborn even after being shot in the knee, I told him the next shot would make him a tenor for life." She shrugged and chuckled tiredly. "I don't think he believed me until I lowered the barrel. Something in my face must have made him a believer." Erik's answering chuckle was music to her soul and she took advantage of his good humor. "Erik…I wanted to apologize for…"

"Shush, _ma petite_." He smoothly interrupted and gave her a smile. "We were neither of us at our best that night. I let my jealousy cloud my better judgment even though I knew you weren't capable of making such filth." Erik reached over to clasp her hand and give it a gentle squeeze. "I regretted my outburst the moment the door closed behind you, _mon amour_."

Alexandra's smile and softly murmured words of love and gratitude eased the last of the pain from his heart. Returning her smile, Erik focused on the snow covered road before them while the warmth from the heater lulled his fiancée to sleep. He kept a vigilant watch on the road before and behind him knowing the guards and the truck would soon be reported as missing. If they could reach the village before the APB was placed, they stood a better chance of resting safely before he went after Zakharov.

It took less than thirty minutes to reach the village, all of which passed uneventfully. As he pulled into the dead-end alley behind his contact's home, Erik hoped his friend hadn't moved or been compromised. If that was the case, things were going to get very difficult very quickly. Gently waking Alex, he told her to wait in the truck but keep watch on the entrance to the alleyway. As he approached the door, it suddenly swung open and a rifle was pointed steadily at his face. After a quick exchange in Russian, Erik motioned for Alex to join him. They'd finally reached a measure of safety.


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: As things are starting to wrap up, some events take a sinister turn. I wavered for some time over who was standing at the door speaking to Carla but I decided to be evil to the woman. :D She annoyed me. Hopefully the next few chapters won't be too jarring but it will definitely place this firmly in the M category. You have been warned._

* * *

**Chapter 19**

**January 29**

_ "Good afternoon, Ms. Goldman."_

An unknown man stood in the doorway dressed in an impeccably hand-tailored Armani suit with Gucci wing-tip shoes. Of average height, his broad sturdy build and ruggedly handsome features seemed at odds with his designer clothing, like he belonged on the cover of calendar of sexy fire fighters instead of standing in a damp, cold cellar. His light brown hair was tinted with a hint of red, just enough that the light picked up the fiery accents and made them glow. As if he was made to be a study in contrasts, the blue eyes beneath the warm auburn mane were as cold and pale blue as an iceberg; Carla shivered beneath their frigid, calculating gaze. Even his voice fit: slightly accented, it was deep and sensual but devoid of any emotion. A dead man, had he been able, would have spoken more warmly than this stranger. Pulling herself together, she stood to face him with her own unconcerned expression. Sometimes it was beneficial to be an actress.

"Is it? I'm not too thrilled with my afternoon thus far."

He said nothing; instead choosing to close the distance between them. Taking one of her hands and then the other, he turned her arms to inspect them from every angle. She wondered if he was checking for needle tracks and if she should be elated or disappointed that she'd kicked that habit years ago. He let them drop to tilt her face towards the light; when she attempted to step away from him, his fingers tightened painfully and that cold glare fastened on her with a brow arched in warning. Trembling faintly, Carla ceased her struggles. Dropping his hands to her shoulders, he grabbed the collar of her minidress and abruptly ripped it open to her navel, eliciting a frightened shriek from the singer. When she tried to cover herself with her hands, he knocked them away harshly.

"None of that, Ms. Goldman. I've paid a very good price for you and I always personally inspect the goods I purchase. This will go much easier on you if you do not attempt to disturb or delay me."

A shudder ran down her spine at his cold, remote words. He could have been talking about taking a car for a test drive or sampling a dessert before ordering. A glint of reflected light on metal was her only warning before he sliced through the center of her bra and then hooking it into the ragged tear to finish removing her dress. She could feel her cheeks flame with embarrassment as she stood before this cold, cruel stranger in nothing but her thong panties and heels. Carla fisted her hands at her sides to keep from covering her breasts from his appraising stare. He walked around her slowly, moving her hair from her neck so nothing was hidden from his view. She whimpered and jumped when he neatly cut the sides of her underwear and pulled them off her body. Never before, even when she'd been making adult films, had she ever felt so totally naked, scared, cold, and degraded as she did during this horrible man's 'inspection'. He moved back to face her and gave a small, cold smile which had her shaking even more than his silence.

"You are in fine shape considering your age and former occupation, Ms. Goldman. I already have an interested buyer and believe you will do quite nicely." Carla refused to acknowledge his words and stared straight ahead and slightly over his shoulder. When she heard the slide of a zipper, she shifted her focus to his face and saw that his cruel smile had grown and there was a glint of malice in his eyes. "I did say I personally inspected the goods, didn't I? Kneel!" His harsh command brooked no disobedience and she sank to the cold stone floor. When his hands painfully tangled in her hair to bring her face closer to his groin, she knew what was expected of her and that he'd tolerate no opposition to his will. As she took his hardening member in her hands, tears of self-loathing and humiliation slid down her face. For the first time since she ran away from home all those years ago, she wished she'd never left New Jersey.

**xxxx**

Though it seemed like days, it was only a couple of hours later when the stranger finally allowed Carla a small moment to rest. There were ugly bruises and red marks marring the pale skin of her breasts, thighs, and buttocks where he had gripped, slapped, pinched, or bitten her as he used her body in every way he could. She prayed he'd leave her to curl up and sob herself to sleep now that he was finished using her but her luck seemed to have run out lately. He dressed leisurely, never glancing her way even once, and pulled a briefcase to the bed. After working the combination, a cold metal band was pulled from its depths and wrapped around her neck. Carla had to fight the instinct to flinch away when she heard it click as it locked into place. A standard steel chain leash was attached to the collar. Closing the briefcase, he stood and smirked at her naked, abused body. Tugging none too gently on the leash, he led her out the door.

The trip out of her cell seemed much longer than the initial trip into it. Carla kept her eyes focused on an unseen point in space in front of her as her captor paraded her through the halls. She'd tried to focus on the floor so as not to see the men ogling her but that had earned her a sharp tug on the leash and a murmured word of warning. He wanted her to see every lurid, lustful gaze in order to break her down even further. When they'd pass a guard or other male worker, the man holding the leash would stop and encourage them to sample his latest acquisition. Some ventured only a harsh squeeze of a breast or her rear, while others demanded she prove her expertise while kneeling on the hard stone floor. The first time she cringed away from a touch and refused to perform on command, she was reminded that she was in no position to refuse anything. She had been held by the guard while her captor laid several sharp, stinging blows across her back and rear with his wide leather belt. Even before the pain had subsided, she was then forced to service them both as punishment and a reminder. Carla didn't refuse a second time.

Her humiliation didn't end once they were in the open bay of the warehouse. A limousine had replaced the modest vehicle in which she'd been brought and she was led towards a short, piggish looking man with greasy slicked back hair. After a brief conversation in that strange language she didn't understand, the short man lumbered over to her to poke and pinch and taste her. Nodding enthusiastically, he spoke with her captor once more. A deal must have been struck as they both smiled and shook hands. One of the piggish man's bodyguards set a briefcase on the floor near her captor and a guard instantly advanced to check for explosives or electronics devices before giving it the all clear. At a nod, the guard opened the briefcase to reveal cash in dollars and Euros, small gold ingots, and a variety of bank papers. Satisfied, Carla's leash was handed to the piggish man and her captor turned to leave the warehouse.

"Wait! You can't just sell me like a piece of meat! I'm a person, an American. I have rights, you know!" She completely loathed the man but… _Better the Devil you know than the Devil you don't._

"Ms. Goldman, the moment you decided to deal with my associate you gave up many of your so-called rights. Do not make me regret letting you live. Your American arrogance and sense of entitlement will only bring you more pain and suffering than I think you want to endure. Now, I'll give you a bit of advice since you've proved to be quite…satisfactory." His hungry, feral smile made her shiver and want to crawl under the car and hide. "Do not try to fight your new master, pet. He may not look like much but I'm told he makes me look like a fairy godmother in comparison when angered." Carla paled so quickly she swayed on her feet in a near faint. How could anyone be more cruel than this hateful, disgusting man?

A tug on her chain brought her attention back to her new 'master' who had crawled into the back of the limo and was pulling on her to join him. Once inside, Carla was surprised to notice there was a second man there who looked, oddly enough, like an accountant of some sort. Before she could take a seat, the piggish man barked something at her in that strange language of his and tugged hard on her chain to bring her to her knees on the floor. When she failed to comprehend his orders, he yanked her forward pulling her face into his lap and then pointed at his belt. With trembling fingers, the former opera diva unhooked the belt and began working on the buttons of his trousers. As she performed her new duties, the accountant brought out several documents and they began discussing what she could only imagine was business.

**xxxx**

In Kirov, Erik and Alexandra were curled up by a warm fire in matching bathrobes while their thick winter gear dried. His friend had somehow managed to secure transportation to the coast and, from there, onto a ship heading for Sweden. The only delay to leaving immediately was having to wait for new passports to be made. Since rushing meant a faulty end product, they would remain at his place for the next twenty-four hours which was perfectly fine with Alex. After a cup of coffee so strong it nearly poured itself, she caught Erik's attention and eased the hem of her robe to her knee.

"I think I've learned my lesson on things of this nature, love, so would you see just how badly I've cut my ankle?"

"Of course, _petite_, we can't have you falling ill so close to freedom." Even a quick glance told him that the wound was already showing signs of infection and he rose to gather the supplies he'd need to treat it. Soaking a gauze bandage in betadine, Erik repeatedly rubbed over the scab; soaking it so that it would open naturally and with less pain than simply pulling it off or slicing into it. He could tell that even the gentle pressure he was using was painful but Alex barely flinched. It hurt him to his very soul to think that she was getting used to being injured and he swore this was it. If he had to lock her away in a castle to keep her safe from harm he would do so.

"How did you do this, Alexandra?" He really didn't need to know but she needed something to focus on when he started flushing the wound with saline. Erik knew from experience that it tended to sting quite sharply. As she talked, he cleaned the cut, covered it with a light film of topical anesthesia, and stitched up the rather jagged wound. Though he would have preferred none of this to happen at all, he was proud of her strength and courage and amazed that this lovely creature wanted to be with him forever. By the time she was finished, he'd wrapped her ankle in fresh gauze and put the supplies away. He came back to see her starting to doze from the warmth of the fire, safety, and a bit of medicine he'd placed in her coffee to help her sleep. Picking her up in his arms, Erik carried her to the guest bedroom they'd been given, helped her out of her robe and into bed. He quickly followed and, pulling her back against his chest, turned off the light and held her close as she slept.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

**January 30**

_Nighttime shadows closed in on her from every angle and mysterious sounds urged her down a dark path that contrasted sharply with the fresh snow. There was something about that path that caught Alex's eye and she strained to see it more clearly but the shadows were too thick and the noises were growing closer. A brief flare of light lit up the outline of a man leaning against the building. When he dropped the match, she watched it as it fell; its unnaturally slow descent illuminating the path she'd followed. It was red. The deep maroon, almost black, shade of coagulated blood._

_ "Why did you kill me?" The smoking man turned to face her and she could see the blood seeping from a jagged wound in his chest. "I just wanted a kiss…give me a kiss…you owe me a kiss!"_

_ Alex tried to scramble backwards but was caught by a second person. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Agent Wallace whose skin was the same grey pallor of death as the guard's. His head hung limply to the side now that his broken neck could no longer support it properly while blood oozed from the wound in his knee. In vain, Alex struggled to escape his cold grip. The guard continued to advance and she watched in horror as his deathly pale face came closer and closer…_

Erik sat on her legs and held her wrists while trying to wake her. She'd started whimpering in her sleep ten minutes ago, rousing him from a most pleasant and erotic dream of the woman at his side. At first he thought she might be experiencing a similar fantasy; that was before the first bloodcurdling scream. When he'd attempted to wake her, Alex began fighting against his hold and so he'd had to fully restrain her. Even now she threatened to throw him to the floor as she bucked beneath him and struggled to free her hands. Transferring both wrists to one hand, he gently tapped her cheek while calling her name. When that didn't work, he spied the pitcher of water by the bed.

Spluttering, Alex's eyes shot open to see her beloved phantom above her, worry etched deeply on his maskless features. Looking around her frantically, she realized she was safe and out of the snow; away from the men whose deaths she'd caused. Catching Erik's concerned gaze, she promptly burst into tears. He quickly rolled to her side and gathered her close, murmuring soothing words in her ear as he stroked her hair and back. He'd seen the dead man shoved under the shed and had wondered when it would hit. The first person you kill always haunts you the worst. He'd hoped she'd never have to learn that particular fact.

"You're safe now, _ma petite chère_, I have you. You're safe." He whispered softly as he planted kisses in her hair. It broke his heart to feel her body shuddering from her sobs as she attempted to purge the terror of the nightmare from her mind. Her words were broken and disjointed as she told him about the guard she'd been forced to kill or risk recapture. "I know, _petite_, but you did what you had to in order to survive. There was no other option. Had you simply rendered him unconscious, he might have awakened too soon for either of us to escape." He leaned back slightly to gently brush the tears from her cheeks and place a tender kiss to her brow before gathering her close to him once more. "It is alright to cry, _mon amour_. Know this; however, bringing death in order to survive doesn't make you evil or a monster. That only occurs when death no longer bothers you as it should."

Erik continued to hold her long after her tears dried and her sobs faded into irregular shudders of indrawn breath. He had thought to see her to safety before pursuing Zakharov but, after her nightmare, he knew he could delay it no longer. Easing gently from her arms, he covered her with the blankets and brushed his lips across her cheek. Turning, he dressed quickly, wrote a brief note of explanation, and left the room silently. As he entered the living room, Erik was unsurprised to find Vasili, his contact, waiting for him. Alex's screams had wakened him abruptly as well. Once told of the nature of the nightmare, the Russian understood perfectly. No one ever forgets their first kill. Vasili prepared Erik a cup of the strong Russian tea and they sat by the fireplace to plan his attack on one of the most powerful crime bosses in Eastern Europe.

Sources had revealed that European Electronics had not authorized an additional attack on either Alexandra or Erik which meant that Zakharov had gone rogue. The organization generally didn't allow that to happen and were certain to retaliate soon. Depending on who and how many supported the slave trafficker's involvement, his actions could have had at least one positive effect: a shake up in the upper echelons of the company. Rumor had it that he was going into seclusion due to several attempts on his life in the past few days. Of his associates, most had already distanced themselves from the slaver not wanting to get caught on the wrong side of the inevitable battle. The only one who had vocally remained loyal was Nikolai Vlascenko and he was in the U.S. on business. When Erik mentioned that Zakharov hadn't been at his compound in Kirov, Vasili searched the files and pulled out a folder containing the name of a bookshop/coffee shop just a few blocks from the CIA safehouse. Inside the folder were blueprints, employee names with pictures, and known agents on both sides who frequented the store. Though it was owned by Zakharov, it was considered neutral territory for all sides which made it the perfect hiding place. Glancing at the clock, Erik knew he still had at least three hours before the sun rose to do reconnaissance on the building.

Avoiding the roads, and their subsequent road blocks, the masked man instead rode cross-country on a beautiful snow-white colt. Spirited and feisty, César reminded him of Alexandra in many ways. Outside of Kirov, Erik skirted the town to a small farm owned by Vasili's brother where he'd stable the horse out of the elements. Leonid met him at the stables and gave him updated information on Zakharov's movements while they secured the horse.

* "I haven't been to Kirov since last night but he was still there. A friend who works in the market across the alley says she saw him in an upstairs window. Very animated he was while talking on the telephone, very angry. Be careful, _Фантом_, for even the meekest creature will strike when cornered and he is most definitely not meek."

"_Спасибо_, Leonid. I will return for the horse before noon at the latest."

Shaking his hand, Erik then turned and walked the last few kilometers to the small town of Kirov. He kept to the trees as long as possible, thankful there were still clouds left to obscure the harsh light of the moon from revealing his position. The closer he came to the book shop, the thinner the cover of the trees and he darted into the shadows of the alley behind it. The building looked like all others in the area, built of sturdy brick to withstand the fierce winters; and like the others, it had seen its share of damage from the fighting that had torn the former USSR into pieces. The rubble strewn along the alley was mostly dislodged bricks from surrounding buildings, sheets of tin roofing that were no longer salvageable as a building material, and twisted metal beams of various sizes.

Stepping carefully around the rubble, Erik located the market Leonid spoke of and, turning, found the window. It was dark indicating either absence of its occupant or sleep; the masked man hoped for the latter. He removed his bulky winter parka and hid it beneath a twisted sheet of metal. Shivering slightly from the cold, he spun the thin rope weighted by a rubber-tipped grappling hook before flinging it onto the roof where it wrapped around an iron bar with the barest of sounds. Quietly, he began his ascent up the side of the building. As rough as the brick wall was, gaining traction with his feet proved easier than he'd thought it'd be and he was perched on the window sill within minutes. He pushed gently but the window was locked which was expected. Wrapping the rope around his arm to ensure a firm hold, Erik pulled a small tool with a suction cup on one end and a small wheel on the other. Pressing the cup to the center of the pane of glass, he took a small bottle of oil and lubricated the wheel completely before rotating the arm around suction cup in a circle. A sharp push while holding the bar between the cup and the wheel and the circle of glass broke free of the pane with only the faintest of pops. Erik laid the glass on a nearby shelf inside the room, unlocked the window, and raised the sash to allow him entry.

Outside the door, he could hear the muttering of guards who were watching the wrong entry point and smile evilly. If all went as planned, they'd never know what happened to their employer when the body was found. Silently padding over to the bed, Erik stared down at the man who'd caused so much trouble to those he loved. Quickly gagging him before he could alert the guards by the door, Erik reached into a thin, narrow pocket on his sleeve and removed a hypodermic. Not caring if his bedside manner was less than gentle, he plunged the needle into Zakharov's upper arm and emptied the small chamber. The sharp pain woke the slave trader whose eyes widened at the sight of the masked man hovering over his bed. Kneeling, Erik leaned over to whisper softly in his ear.

"Do you feel it, Zakharov? Do you feel the serum slowly working through your system, robbing you of movement, of speech? I couldn't have you calling in your watchdogs and spoiling our fun; and it will be fun, comrade. At least for me." Erik's smile was a terrible thing to behold and, along with his muscle control, Zakharov's control of his bladder had also been affected. Humiliation only fueled the hatred in his eyes as he tried to fight against the drug that had immobilized him. A razor sharp pair of scissors divested the prone man of his night shirt which Erik used to strap his hands to the bed frame. No use taking any chances.

"You have caused me and mine a considerable amount of trouble, _old friend_." He pulled a thin, sharp knife from his boot and pressed it slowly into the blond man's shoulder; the pain reflected only in his eyes. Once it had pierced the mattress beneath, Erik withdrew it to contemplate a small glass bottle. "I would have allowed the Agency to handle things had you not come for us again but you wouldn't leave us alone. It was bad enough that you placed even more scars upon my hideous self but you dared to hurt my Alexandra and that I will not tolerate." Uncapping it, he let several small drops fall into the bloody wound and watched as the acid began eating its way through the already damaged flesh.

"You once called me a monster because of my face, _monsieur_, but you were more accurate than you knew. I will show you what truly makes me a monster but, in order to do so, you have to become one as well." The widening of Zakharov's eyes as the bottle moved over his face was the only way the fear and pain could be expressed. As the acid fell in hot, sizzling drops across his cheeks, his body twitched as it fought the drug that had rendered him helpless. Erik chuckled soundlessly and held a mirror in front of his captive so he could see exactly what was happening to him.

The acid had already burned away much of the flesh of his cheeks, leaving bloody bones and teeth exposed to the air. And still it voraciously ate through the man's face. Erik folded the pillow and placed it beneath his head to elevate it somewhat. No sense in halting the fun prematurely just because the acid had reached Zakharov's brain. Leaning close so that he was looking into the pain filled eyes in the mirror, Erik whispered softly in his ear.

"You see _monsieur_? Even the most handsome of men have a monster buried inside and yours wasn't even hidden away all that deep. I heard of your plans for my fiancée, by the way. Really, Stanislav… Vlascenko? I thought you'd gotten rid of that disgustingly perverse creature ages ago." Shaking the bottle, both men could hear the faint splash of liquid inside. There was a small amount left and, in lieu of his recent statements and Erik's malicious smile, Zakharov knew where it would be used and braced himself for the pain. Jerking the blankets onto the floor, the sharp scissors made swift work of the gaudy boxer shorts the man wore. The masked man smirked when he saw that his victim was definitely not at his best in the frigid air. Slowly, knowing the anticipation was very nearly as bad as the pain itself, Erik allowed a single drop to fall onto the head of Zakharov's shriveled manhood. The pain was excruciating and Erik had to hold him to the bed as his body thrashed. He didn't have much longer before the pain and adrenaline shook off the effects of the drug. Damn, he'd have to hurry.

The thin blade sank into the meaty flesh of his thigh where Erik turned it before removing it to watch the blood bubble up from the wound. Several more times the blade descended into the body of his victim; every place painful but not fatal. When harsh grunts were coming from Zakharov's throat and he'd gained enough control of his arms to tug at his bonds, Erik knew his time was up. With a final swipe of the blade across his victim's throat, he watched the life fade from the man who'd tried to take what was his. Cleaning the blade with the bed sheet, he slipped it back into its sheath and exited through the window. Gripping the rope, he slid silently to the ground, retrieved his parka, and slipped from the alley into the welcoming shadows of the trees. Erik retrieved César without incident and rode quickly back to Vasili's house and his beloved Alexandra.

* * *

_A/N: He didn't have as much time as he would have liked but at least he enjoyed himself :D Only two more chapters and it will be done. I've got something in the works but not sure if it'll get posted. Will have to see._


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

**February 5**

Blankenship had been transferred to a federal prison awaiting his indictment. Ironically, it was the same prison from which Zakharov had only recently escaped. Every day his lawyers would arrive to look for something, anything, which could get the case kicked out of court but their client refused to cooperate. He felt safer from Chaney/Zakharov within the walls of the prison than he would without. Frustrated, the case was repeatedly handed off to other lawyers within the firm Omni had on retainer. This visit was no different. When Blankenship was brought into the consultation room, there was yet another new face behind the briefcase.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Blankenship. I'm Matt Findley, your new lawyer. Mr. Whitman was called away with a family emergency and…"

"Cut the bullshit, Findley." Blankenship interrupted with a bored wave of his hand. "I know and you know why Whitman pawned the case off on you. My question is what did you do to piss him off so badly that he made you take it?"

"I assure you, Mr. Blankenship, that is not what happened. As a matter of fact, I requested this case."

"Stupid son of a bitch," the prisoner chuckled dryly, "what do you hope to prove, hmm? I'm guilty. The evidence is irrefutable even if Chaney got to Carla already. Yes, I've heard that she's gone missing, suspected of flying to a non-extradition country, but we both know that's not what happened. Chaney or one of his associates has her and I'm sure she wishes she was in this prison right now rather than wherever she is. The prosecution won't offer a deal since they have too much evidence for a full conviction so I'm not really sure why you're here."

"Well, Mr. Blankenship, it is my solemn duty as a member of the judicial system to ensure that you get a fair trial." The rotund lawyer paced around the room as he spoke. Blankenship simply looked bored. "Because you know as well as I that my associates want to ensure you get the very best representation so that you get nothing more than what you deserve." A pudgy hand landed on the prisoner's shoulder and he jumped at a sharp pain. Turning to gaze at the lawyer, Blankenship's eyes were caught by the needle that protruded from the signet ring.

"You're…You work for _him_!" The fat man waddled back to his briefcase and picked it up before rapping on the door for a guard.

"You knew it was coming, Blankenship. We could never have let this case go to trial. Be glad that you're not in your compatriot's predicament; she is quickly learning her new role in life, or so I'm told."

The guard escorted the lawyer from the secured cells before returning for the prisoner. Blankenship accompanied him without protest. What would be the use? He knew he'd be dead by morning. Entering his cell, he immediately lay on his cot and began trying to make his peace with God.

**xxxx**

The sound of the whip snapping behind her was still terrifying, even after nearly a week of similar torture. Carla trembled in the manacles of the cold, metal fetish contraption that held her naked body spread-eagled and on view for all in the room. She wore six inch heels and fishnet hose with garters. Large metal clamps had been attached to her abused nipples which were nearly numb from the intense pain and pressure. During the course of the night, she'd been pinched, fondled, and fucked by nearly everyone at Vlascenko's party. As it descended even further into drugged hedonistic decadence, the whips and plugs and clamps had been introduced to her already sore, used body. She could feel blood, and other fluids, running down her thighs and couldn't stop the tears that streaked her makeup.

"My dear," a large, hairy man clad in nothing but a bow tie and slippers noticed her crying and approached, "have we been neglecting you? We'd not want our favorite entertainment to be sad and lonely." He laughed and flipped a switch, sending short bursts of electric volts through the metal clamps that so painfully pinched Carla's nipples. Her body stiffened against the pain and two more fat tears rolled down her cheeks. A few more jolts and she was openly sobbing, hanging limply in the restraints. Even in her misery, she could see the man stroking his hardening manhood as her pain stoked his pleasure. "You are a lovely creature, did you know that? Yes, so very lovely." Throwing a separate switch, the frame pivoted and lowered so that she was facing the floor, the rush of blood causing her swollen nipples to throb painfully. She barely managed to hold back a cry when she felt him plunge harshly into her sore, raw body. She knew that, should she make a sound, they would assume she was enjoying their torment and fall on her like a pack of rabid wolves. Unfortunately, the man's grunts of pleasure still drew an audience and soon she was the center of the entertainment once more. For the millionth time since she'd entered that taxi Carla prayed for death to take her and soon.

Long hours later and her limp, aching body was tossed carelessly onto the bed into her cell-like room. The click of the lock barely penetrated her tormented mind; neither did the sound that could only be a zipper. She didn't have to perform for the guard so she simply lay there and let him have his way with her. When he was finished, which was rather quickly, he slapped her ass and told her to clean up because Vlascenko would call for her in an hour. She would be needed at dinner. The door closed and locked behind him and she was left alone at last. Carla thought of the shower. Clean up? All the water in the oceans couldn't clean the dirt and filth that had become her life.

As she struggled to sit up, she realized one important thing: she still wore her stockings. Usually the guard removed those before he left but had forgotten them while slaking his lust with her body. Carefully and with shaking hands, Carla unclasped the garters and slid the stockings down her legs. They were caked with blood and semen and Lord knows what else, but they were sturdy and strong and perfect for her use. She pulled over a footstool which was just tall enough for her to reach the ceiling. Standing on her toes, she pushed the ceiling tile aside to reveal the thick wooden joist. Tying the stockings securely to the joist, she looped the rest around her neck several times to shorten it before tying it off. For a moment, Carla hesitated. She was still fairly young and had lived a decent life. Was she ready to die? Then, the clock struck the half hour and she knew that it was the only way to escape another meal spent at the mercy of the sick, perverted bastard who kept her captive. Without a second thought, she kicked the footstool away. For once, fate was kind to Carla Goldman and the fall snapped her neck before she could suffer a lengthy death by strangulation.

**xxxx**

The trip from Kirov to the northern coast was uneventful after the neutralization of Zakharov which pleased both Erik and Alex quite well. The ship took them into Sweden where they disembarked with only the normal hassle of clearing customs from an Eastern Bloc country. They made contact with an Agent in Stockholm who secured their passage back to the United States without further incident. Their plane was to leave at 6:00pm and would fly straight into JFK Airport. With several hours to kill, they took advantage of Agency funds to replace their clothing and go to a restaurant for a relaxed lunch.

"Erik, will your opera be delayed because of all this?" Alex was genuinely worried for she felt responsible for his not being there to oversee rehearsal. His smile as he took her hand had her heart turning over in her chest; he was incredibly, achingly beautiful.

"No, _petite_. I haven't been gone that long and the managers are actually a bit more competent than I make them out to be. When we return, I'll have them run through the performance so I can make any changes that I feel are needed. We have nearly three weeks until opening night; they will be ready." He raised her hand to his lips to brush a light kiss across her knuckles. "How are you holding up, Alexandra? You look tired, my love."

"I'm…okay, I guess," her smile tumbled from lips that trembled. "I'm still having nightmares, as you know, but having you by my side helps immensely. It's hard to be afraid when you're holding me."

"When we get back, would you do me a favor, _petite_? Talk to someone. The Agency has people trained to help this exact situation…" Erik's voice trailed into nothing as tears welled up in her pale green eyes.

"They haunt me, Erik," Alex whispered brokenly. "Every time I close my eyes I can see them lying there in the snow as it's stained red with their blood. It steamed. Did you know that? In the snow, their blood was so warm it caused the snow to steam…" Erik quickly moved from his chair to pull her up into his arms.

"Shhh, forgive me for bringing it up, petite. It's over now. Completely over." Keeping her cradled in the shelter of his arm, Erik handed the waitress far more Euros than were needed for their meal and escorted Alexandra back to their hotel. Once there, he pampered her like a princess. He drew a warm bubble bath for her and joined her there to rub the tension from her shoulders and neck. Afterwards, he gently toweled her dry and combed her hair delighting in how long it had gotten. Lying with her on the bed, he told her of his plans for their wedding and honeymoon, all the places he wished to take her, and all the things he wished her to see. As Erik wove his spell around her, he eased in a few suggestions to help her move beyond the trauma she'd gone through.

They left for the airport at 3:00pm, checked in, and waited for the calls to board. They shopped and laughed like tourists; even going so far as to pick up a few souvenirs for the Girys and Da'ud at the airport souvenir shop. As their packages were being wrapped, Alexandra began to suspect her lover of using his persuasive powers to ease her inner turmoil. Even if that were so, she had no reprimand for him. She knew he'd only do so if he felt it was absolutely necessary and beneficial and she appreciated his concern. Once boarding was announced for their flight, they gathered their items and took their seats. When drinks were offered, Alex got some water to wash down a sleeping pill, leaned against Erik's shoulder, and fell into her first untroubled sleep since she'd been kidnapped.

Their arrival at the Metropolitan was filled with hugs and tears and laughter as the Girys and Da'ud welcomed them home safe and sound. Erik asked Angelique about the progress on his opera while Meg told Alex the silly sort of gossip that always runs rampant throughout a performing troupe. Pleading exhaustion, which wasn't a lie by any stretch, the couple headed for their apartment trailed by Da'ud. Upon entering the front room and being assaulted by so many happy memories of times that had very nearly ended forever, Alex promptly burst into tears. Erik guided her to the sofa while the former detective hovered uncertainly in the doorway and wondered if perhaps there was a better time for what he had to say. Holding her gently on his lap, he kissed the top of her head lightly before motioning for Da'ud to enter and close the door.

"I knew you would have information for me that you didn't want to reveal in front of the others; I have some for you as well."

"Should I come back later?" The Persian motioned to the still weeping woman curled up on Erik's lap. "I wouldn't want to further upset her, my friend." At this, Alex raised her head and sent him a watery smile.

"I'll be alright, Da'ud. Please, go ahead. I'd like to get all of this over quickly so it can be put behind us."

"Very well. As you know, Erik, Carla wore a wire to Blankenship's office and persuaded him to reveal his involvement in Alex's kidnapping. It was his footage and employee who spliced the tape. He rewarded the man with a pair of cement shoes." Da'ud glanced at Alex before continuing. "We also found out he had recorded more than just Alex. There were over a hundred tapes of himself and a variety of women. That, while despicable, wouldn't have been illegal except not all the women consented to the taping or the sex nor were they all of legal age."

"So, he's in jail now?" She couldn't help the note of hope in her voice. She'd be happy never to see him again.

"Well, not at this exact time, no. At 4:45 yesterday, Michael Blankenship was found in his cell dead from an apparent heart attack. A toxicology report showed no poisons in his system and so his death was reported as being from natural causes." The detective stared at the floor, less enthusiastic about revealing the rest. "Carla Goldman, who was released as a result of the agreement made with the District Attorney's office, was last seen entering a cab outside the police station on January 29. Her body was found this morning at an abandoned factory, an apparent suicide by hanging. She had lacerations and contusions that show she'd been whipped and beaten before her death. There is also evidence of electrical burns in places that suggest she'd been in the company of a fetishist. Test results also confirmed that she'd been raped, multiple times and by multiple people; none of the DNA we found was on file."

"European Electronics cleaning up after the Zakharov fiasco?" His eyes remained unchanged but Erik felt a twinge of remorse for what had happened to Carla; but only a twinge. She chose to associate with animals and so was at the mercy of those of higher status in the pack.

"That's my guess." Da'ud ran a hand over his face and through his hair. "Blankenship knew what would happen but I think Carla was simply in over her head."

They spoke for another hour or so before the former detective took his leave. Erik told him that Zakharov had been neutralized and asked him to arrange for a debriefing with the Agency. He also gave him the information concerning Agent Wallace and asked him to pass it along to the CIA which, he knew, would deny any presence in Kirov. Alone at last, he carried his Alexandra to bed and made sweet, gentle love to her before falling asleep with her wrapped securely in his embrace.

* * *

A/N: Only thing left is the epilogue! I think it's time for Erik and Alex to have a bit of peace so they'll be retired for now. I do want to state that I have no real problems with fetishists. Of those I've spoken with, their primary rule is Consent which Vlascenko repeatedly breaks. Thank you all for your reviews and for following along with this story. :)


	22. Epilogue

**Chapter 22**

**March 2**

(from a newspaper clipping)

_Only a day late, March 1st marked the premiere of Don Juan Triumphant the latest masterpiece from Erik Devereaux, owner and composer for the Metropolitan Opera and Ballet. If I had known of the spectacle of pure genius that awaited the audience, this reviewer would have been content to wait months if necessary. To say Mr. Devereaux has surpassed his own excellent compositions would be an immense understatement. The atmosphere of the piece is at once dark and seductive as well as cold with despair sprinkled with a bit of sunshine and joy. Your emotions will take a whirlwind rollercoaster ride as you watch the seduction of the fair Aminta, sung by the fabulous Katherine Davis former understudy of the late Carlotta Giudicelli née Carla Goldman, by the dastardly Don Juan. Davis, only 23, has proven to be quite a surprise with her pure soprano and effortless grace. Her youth served her well in portraying the innocent serving girl who catches the eye of the most notorious womanizer in all of Europe. Her initial resistance and then surrender to his practiced seduction was a masterful piece of acting. Franklin Delozier, the established leading tenor of the Metropolitan, had to have feared for his very life by the time he realized his love for the fair Aminta. By intermission, I truly hoped the actor was being protected by armed guards so great was the animosity towards the character. The declaration of his love for the young girl, and his sacrifice of his soul to save her from Death's clutches, redeemed Don Juan in the eyes of more than just the audience. As the curtain fell, there were few who exited the theater with a dry eye; I can confess without shame that it was true for even this jaded reviewer._

_The gala afterwards was a spectacle unto itself. The acclaimed composer attended with his lovely fiancée, Alexandra Roberts, upon his arm. When asked if he was working on a new composition, Mr. Devereaux stated that he would be taking a much needed sabbatical with his lady for a world tour. Neither would confirm or deny the rumors that a wedding date had been set for late autumn.

* * *

_A/N: And so it ends for Alex and Erik. I decided since they rushed into an engagement that they would be content to wait on a wedding. It's not like they haven't had a honeymoon of sorts already lol Now they can settle down, have a litter of little phantoms and live happily ever after :D Thank you to all who've reviewed or placed on their favorites or simply read this story. I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.


End file.
