Drunk.

He was drunk again, which was no surprise to any of the bartenders who worked the bar on the ship. They'd seen him come and drown his sorrows every night since the journey began. It was a long voyage and they knew that many passengers enjoyed a good nightcap to set them off at the end of the day – but Raoul's drinking was no casual night time remedy. No, his was a serious issue. But who were they to deny a patron an expensive drink to tide him over?

"Another." Raoul barked, slamming his shot class down on the bar.

"You think that's a good idea?" The bartender asked, pouring the drink nevertheless. "You've been here all evening? Don't you have that pretty wife to go back to?"

Raoul turned and glared at the bartender, "I don't believe it's your place to tell me where I should be going."

"Look man, I'm trying to make small talk. Most people come to a bar, looking for a bit of psychology."

"I see." Raoul mused, rubbing the edge of the shot glass along his bottom lip. "I don't think my wife loves me."

"What happened?"

"We had a son and she lost interest in me."

"How long ago was this?"

Raoul gritted his teeth, "Gustave is ten this year, and we've been married ten years."

"If you've had a dry spell for ten years I can see why you're losing yourself in a bottle of liquor." The bartender tried to chuckle and make light of the situation. "Have you mentioned this issue with her?"

"You think I haven't tried to put the passion back into our marriage for the past ten years?" Raoul snapped, "She's just lost interest in that aspect of marriage."

"Perhaps because you return to her drunk?"

"No." Raoul furrowed his brow, "I started drinking after she started denying my advances."

"Did this happen shortly after the birth of your son?"

"Yes."

The bartender nodded his head, "When I got married to my wife, we were fortunate enough to find we were expecting just a few short weeks after our wedding. My wife was disinterested in anything but the baby until our little girl was nearly a year old. She was all focused on being a good mother and less about being a good wife. Celia had to learn from scratch about being a mother. Her own mother died shortly after she was born and she didn't know how to be a mother."

"Christine's mother died shortly after she was born as well. Her father when she barely ten. I suppose that could be one reason that she's concentrating on being a mother and not a wife." Raoul shrugged, downing the shot. "It doesn't help me solve anything however."

"Try talking with her when you're sober."

"She won't listen. She doesn't see me with the same eyes she once looked at me with. She no longer sees a sweet young Vicomte, instead she sees a barreling drunk who's past his prime."

"Make her see that you wish to be different."

Raoul shook his head, "It's a lost cause bartender."

"Joe."

"Joe." Raoul motioned to the shot glass, "A few more shots and then I think I'm through for the night."

"Are you going to try to remedy your issues?"

Raoul huffed, "I'm not sure."

~o~

Christine had already, long, gone to bed. She wasn't waiting up for her drunken husband to barrel through the door and list out everything she'd done wrong in their marriage. She was not dealing with this. She was going to New York to sing for Rogers and Hammerstein to cover the debts that Raoul had amassed from drinking and gambling. Since Raoul's behavior at dinner the night before, she'd given up waiting up for him. If he wanted to drink himself into oblivion, she wasn't waiting up.

"Christine." Raoul shook her as gently as his drunken coordination could allow. "Christine, wake up."

"What do you want?" Christine mumbled, groggily rolling over in bed.

Raoul narrowed his eyes, "I only meant to… I came.. Forget it." He barked, turning away. He discarded his bowtie across the room in a frustrated huff.

"What's wrong?" Christine asked, rubbing her eyes as she noticed that Raoul hadn't initially come back angry with her. "I didn't mean to snap, I was still asleep."

"Forget it." Raoul snarled, jerking his waistcoat off and throwing it down on the chaise. "Am I at least allowed to sleep with you?"

"Of course." Christine patted the bed, trying not to question him about what was wrong. She'd seen him in many states, but she'd never seen him try to – perhaps – apologize. She couldn't even bite back the question, "What's really wrong Raoul? Please tell me."

"Why would you care?"

"Because I married you, we had a son, and I love you very much." Christine bit her lip, sitting up in the bed and staring at him across the dark room. She could make out his shape in the darkness, and even from that little figure she could tell that he was fuming. "I don't want to fight Raoul. Especially on this ship, where neither of us can run away from our difficulties. Please, let's just try to mend our differences."

"You only initiate something with me when you think I'm furious. When I try anything you completely shut me out."

"How much have you drunk?" Christine asked, side stepping the question as she got out of bed to help the wobbling drunk. "Not that it effects this conversation – I only wish we could have it sober."

"Christine." Raoul moaned, fumbling down onto the bed. "I don't understand why we have to do this when I'm sober. I just want to get this conversation over with. Is that so much to ask?"

"We should have it in the morning after you handle your hangover." Christine insisted, helping to tug his shoes off of his feet. "You should sleep this off right now and we can talk later."

"Christine, why is there nothing between us anymore? What I wouldn't give to go back to that time on the roof of the Opera Populaire," Raoul's voice suddenly changed from cold, to reminiscent. There was warmth in his voice that she hadn't heard in years. "I want that back. I want the Christine who wanted to be nowhere but in my arms."

"Raoul-"

"It's all I ask of you." He mumbled, catching her hands and showering them with sloppy kisses.

"I want us to be like that again too." Christine didn't really feel that way. She hadn't felt that way in a long time. The farther they grew apart the more satisfied she felt with being to people sleeping in bed together and nothing more.

"I don't believe you." Raoul pouted, pulling her close to him. "Promise me all you say is true."

"Raoul." She was impatient with him as he tried in vain to pull her on to the bed with him. "You're drunk."

"I want my wife."

"She's right here, but she doesn't think it would be wise for us to do this tonight."

"She never thinks it's wise."

Christine sighed, resigning herself to the fate again. She'd ruined herself ten years ago. Raoul was always being compared to a memory she held so high that it had become distorted and no longer resembled the real experience. It became a fantasy that felt real. A fantasy Raoul fell short in comparison.

"I love you Christine. I need you. There's nothing wrong in a man and his wife sharing these intimacies. Please."

Christine moved around the bed, slipping beneath the covers with him. There was nothing romantic about a drunken husband insisting upon making love to you, nothing passionate about him seeking his own desires and leaving yours forgotten. He seemed triumphant as he pulled her close to him and found himself drifting asleep with utter exhaustion.

Would it be vain of her to cry herself to sleeping in her husband's arms? She should be satisfied with her life. She was married to a Vicomte, though he'd spent much of their fortune on a roulette table, she had a beautiful son, she still had her looks, she wanted for nothing. Though she craved the passion that she couldn't find with Raoul, there were some wishes that could never be granted.

She wanted to feel worshipped.

A/N: First update since August! How was everyone's Christmas?