He hadn't changed, not one bit.

Or, perhaps, he had. There were no silver flakes in his hair, no aged wrinkles complimenting his eyes, his smile was fresh and empty of pain.

"Chris!" He cried. "You've grown, look at you. I never would have guessed."

Christine gave him a pained smile while grasping Erik desperately, partly to keep her standing and partly to keep him from doing anything foolish. An arm was wrapped protectively around her waist, keeping her up and giving her a solid place to hang when the carpet was once again swept from underneath her.

Anxiously she looked to him, he was staring at Raoul's unconscious form supported by Nadir behind father.

Father.

"Pappsen." She murmured in Swedish. "This is not the time."

His face darkened. "Chris, what is going on?I admit, this business is taking me by surprise."

"Erik and I.... This is my fiancé." Christine announced brazenly, behind father, she saw Nadir's eyes widen. "His name is Erik, we were preforming together."

Her father jumped foreword. "Excellent, I heard your singing." He held out a hand. "You two will be perfect together, you should have seen her as a kid, learned to sing before she talked, she did." Erik stared at the hand blankly until it was retracted.

"Pappsen, what happened to Raoul?"

He glanced behind him. "Ah, well he hit his head sliding down from that tunnel, knocked him out cold."

Christine remembered the first, loudest thump from the room and had to smile at the image. "I see. Best deposit him on the couch, I daresay he needs it more than I."

Erik's grip on her tightened, another glanced showed his grinding teeth. She rubbed his back, his tense muscles. He had to be calm, he couldn't explode now. "Erik, darling, will you please help me to that chair?"

He nodded, surprising her by sweeping her up in his arms, cradling her in his chest. He hurried past the struggling Nadir and carefully placed her blanket wrapped figure in the chair as he would a glass figurine. Her blankets were adjusted, and a cool hand gently checked the bandage at her forehead.

He turned nervously to the rest of the room, tense, fingers twitching, ready to fight off the invasion in his home. Gently she reached out and gently guided his head back to her. She reached foreword and kissed his chin, feeling him shudder as she did so.

"Not for long darling, I promise." Christine whispered against his skin. "They'll be out soon."

He nodded, taking one of her hands and pressing it to his lips.

"Look at that!" Her father said with pride. "I knew she would choose a gentlemen, she wouldn't settle for anything less-"

"Papa this is not the time." Christine said, leaning away from Erik, clutching her blanket. "There are some serious matters to be discussed and I will not have your inability to take things seriously affect them."

He fell silent, and a trace of the weariness she was used to seemed to come back.

"How did you get here?" Christine asked coldly, gripping Erik's equally cool hand. "In this time, I mean? I do hope you know what I'm talking about."

Gently Gustav Daae's rough hands tugged at a golden chain around his neck and pulled it out.

Christine nodded in satisfaction. "I thought so."

He smiled, his eyes twinkling and Christine pressed her lips together to prevent her relief from showing through. "Did your mother tell you? You were pretty young when you left."

"Left?" Christine bristled. "Left what?"

He winced, he paused, leaning against a bookshelf. "I guess not." He stopped, gazing at the books for a moment. "Chris, what year were you born?"

Christine glared at him. "Father I don't know what your-"

"Humor me."

She glared at him. "1998." She said quietly.

The room fell deathly silent. Erik's hand tightened, Nadir, sitting at the end of Raoul's feet stared at her like she was insane. Her father sat back, looking pleased.

"Well, you weren't." He said, pushing the shelf away to pick up a stray piece of paper on the floor. "You were actually born in 1864, your mother and I came here accidentally," he gestured to the necklace on his chest. "But this had been stolen from us, I was able to get it back, when you were seven. Your mother wanted to leave, but I wanted to stay. I let her take you back- I thought you would be happier there."

"Back, back where?" Erik asked icily.

Undaunted, her father faced Erik. "To the future, to over a hundred years in the future."

"You're mad." Nadir's voice said hoarsely. "You're both mad."

"I- I thought so too." Christine told him. "It all seemed so strange, and so distant once I'd lived here for a few years and- I could barely believe that such a world could exist. I convinced myself it was a dream-"

"You grew up in the future, then?" Her father's voiced sounded pleased. "I knew you would receive a better education there."

"I really did play with him." Christine realized suddenly, she glanced at Raoul's unconscious form. "I used to play with him, didn't I?"

Her father glanced at Raoul. "Certainly looks like him." He admitted. "His nose even looks crooked in the right way." He chuckled. "You got him good didn't you?"

"He taught me to swim." Christine remembered. "He rescued my scarf too."

"A true hero, through and through. Sadly it's a little more complicated now than grabbing a scarf now, isn't it?" Her father said sadly. "He's a little too wrapped up in stories of rescuing damsels. You should have heard him, shouting about villains and kidnapping."

"I suppose." Christine smiled, rubbing Erik's hand she flashed him a warm smile. "I didn't even need rescuing." He looked at her and then to the still figure on the couch.

"You like him? That boy?" Erik choked out. "You knew him when you were young?"

"Of course I like him!" Christine told him. "But I also like Nadir, and Adam, and Meg. I love you." She smiled. "I knew him for a few months when I was seven. Why, was I supposed to fall in love with him? I barely know him."

"If it had been a story." Erik said softly. "I would have been a monster, and he would have come to rescue you, and you would have lived happily forever after." His voice turned bitter.

"Mm." Christine chuckled. "I don't know, I've read stories where it didn't quite happen that way."

"Christine, you do know what Erik is?" Nadir's voice called, she turned to face his deep brown skin. "What he's done?"

"Oh, Persia, the rosy hours? Yes yes yes." Christine shrugged at his surprised look, she squeezed Erik's hand as he gasped slightly. "I know."

"He's murdered." Nadir warned.

"I know."

"He's tortured."

"I know."

"He is not a good man."

"I know."

Nadir took a deep breath. "Christine, he killed Bouqet."

"For the last time, Nadir, I do not know what happened to the man." Erik snapped. "He could have gotten drunk and fallen in a river for all I care."

Christine nodded. "He didn't kill Bouqet." She said.

Another deep breath from Nadir. "You cannot know that, please do not defend him."

"He didn't do it." Christine said stubbornly.

"Who did then?" Nadir snapped. "The other Opera Ghost?"

"I did."

He gaped. "No."

"He attacked one of my ballerina girls, it was far under the opera house, long after most of the cast left. We deposited his body not long after." Christine smiled. "Ask Madame Giry for farther evidence."

"Why-why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, we can't be expected to run to you for everything."

Nadir gritted his teeth. "Very well, but he is far too old for you."

"Really?" Christine turned to Erik. "How old are you?" She asked.

He shrugged helplessly. "My late fifties, I don't know for certain."

"That's fine." Christine smiled and reached up to stroke his cheek gently. "Rather perfect, in fact. I'm fifty two."

She ignored the two surprised sounds as she drew Erik in for a quite kiss on the lips. She pulled away and had the tact to look a little embarrassed. "I don't look it, I know. I really only really noticed how young I looked a few years ago."

"Children." Nadir gasped. "What if you have children like him?"

"I'd love them just as much as I love him." She reassured him. "However, my cycle ended three years ago, there is no danger of children." She smiled wryly. "Proof of my age, I suppose. Most women stop around that age, I believe."

"You're older than I am." Her father announced suddenly. "I'm surprised."

"Yes. You wouldn't know anything about my tendency to not age would you?" Christine asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Ah, well, the necklace halts aging. So you look the same when you go home." His mouth twitched. "I expect you've been under it's influence since you were seven. Luckily it prioritizes health over consistency, otherwise you would appear a very odd seven year old."

"The necklace, it allows you to travel through time?" Erik asked.

Christine nodded. "Yes, it does. That's-"

Her father lifting the necklace off his head and handing it to her, his eyes twinkling.

"I want you to have this."

"Pappsen!"

"It's yours now. Be careful min angel."

"Pappsen gave it to me." Christine said. "Before the concert. Before the accident."

Erik was quiet, he stared at the swinging necklace in her father's hand. Abruptly, he stood and left the room.

Christine watched him, a hint of confusion leaking into her face.

A few moments later he returned, this time, with something clutched in his large, bony hands. Carefully, he pulled out Christine's hand and pooled a cool metal material into her hand.

Christine looked at it and felt herself go pale. "Erik-"

"It was my mother's, she left it to me when she died." He said quietly.

"Erik!"

"Chris, look at this."

Christine's head snapped to her father, he held up the sheet of paper in his hand. It was a music sheet, a title sprawled across the top, Clair de Lune.

"Wasn't this published in 1891?" Her father asked.

Christine pressed her lips together and whispered. "Erik, you said that you's heard that song before, where did you hear it?"

"My- my mother used to play it." He said, sounding startled. "I understand that- that it was my father's favorite."

Christine gasped and looked down at her hand.

A golden watch, perfectly identical to her own stared back up at her.