Better...Happy Holidays guys.


"What do you want, Cressida?" Erik asked in irritation, taking the champagne from her hands and downing both glasses in mere gulps. She pouted prettily, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"I'm hurt." She said innocently. "I only wanted to speak to you…as an old friend."

"Cressida," He began sternly, looking at her with fierce annoyance. "We are not, nor have we ever been friends. I have no desire to be your friend."

"You certainly never complained before." She pointed out.

"It wasn't friendship I was after." He replied flippantly. Her eyes blazed icily.

"You bastard!" She hissed. "I could be so much better for you than that mouse!" He realized with a shudder that she was talking about Evangeline.

"She has nothing to do with my decision." He said firmly. "It was purely your fault. I can't stand your idiot jealousy. I have no use for possessive women. It will ruin you Cressida…"

"How dare you…"

"I dare." Cutting in, he bore his silvery green eyes into her blue ones. "You are a bitchy, self serving little slut with a need to make everyone as miserable as you are."

"You talk about me being miserable, when you wallow in your own self pity. Why do you hide your face, Erik?" She asked mockingly, hitting a nerve. "You think I don't know what you are…I know. I was there that night you fool." Her voice was quiet and dangerous as he stood, frozen. "I saw Don Juan Triumphant. Why do you think I was so keen to get into your pants, Erik? All that intensity and disregard for anything but yourself made me burn for you. I didn't even care that your face wasn't appealing. I recognized you instantly." She whispered. "I will have you Erik…or no one will. The choice is yours." She sauntered away, moving to the next group of unwed men to flirt and flaunt her beauty. Erik struggled to breathe, his eyes burning with unshed tears of fury. His fists had balled and his long fingers itched to wring her swan-like neck. Erik Destler wanted to murder Cressida, Lady Remy as he'd once wanted to possess Christine Daae, just as he wanted to have Evangeline Lambourne in his arms and in his bed. Disgusted, he left the ballroom and headed home to drink himself into delirium.


February and March had gone by surprisingly in a blur for Evie. Wedding plans and arrangements had kept her so busy; her novel had gone untouched for the past months. Every night she saw her manuscript and a sad longing entered her, but try as she might to write, exhaustion was more persistent and she gave up, laying her head against the pillows. It was strange, not sharing a room with Bianca any longer as the suite of room had three bedrooms and the two younger sisters now shared. Her wedding to Ansel was fast approaching and everything was chaos. It was a bittersweet feeling, knowing in less than two weeks, she would marry the Viscount LaSalle and no longer be Evangeline Lambourne, but the Viscountess LaSalle. She adored Ansel, but for some reason his kisses had become few and far between and he kept his distance whenever her family was around. He'd become tenser, and worry lines etched around his eyes now. His hair had grown a bit long, and light stubble covered his jaw attractively. Evie could think of no one better to spend the rest of her life with.

Of course, she tried to forget that when Ansel did kiss her, the fire that Monsieur Destler had invoked in her was absent. Oh, his kisses were pleasant and warm and lovely, but they were not urgent as the other man's had been. Evie felt shameful even to think of it. The thought of lying with Ansel worried her as well. She knew how it all worked, but when she thought of doing such a thing with him, she felt nothing. Shame filled her, for she remembered the jolt of electricity that had run from her lips to her toes when she had kissed the masked man. Even as she'd pushed him away, the awful need to wrap herself around him had consumed her. Squeezing her eyes closed, she attempted to push the thought from her mind and got up from her bed.

Instinct brought her into the room where Bianca and Fern were sleeping. Smiling fondly at the sight of her sisters, she crawled next to Bianca on the queen sized bed they were sharing. Bianca started, turning to look at her.

"Evie…" She whispered sleepily. "Are you alright?" Evangeline nodded.

"Just missed you is all." Her voice shook with suppressed emotion.

"What is it?" Bianca asked, reaching out to touch her hair.

"I'm confused." Evie admitted. "I know Ansel and I will be happy together, but I have the feeling he is having doubts." Bianca's eyes widened.

"I'm sure he's not, Evie. Ansel loves you." She said, careful to keep her voice low so as not to wake the nearly sixteen year old.

"He's never said so." Evangeline pointed out. "He's become so distant."

"He's probably nervous." Bianca said sympathetically. "Poor dear…" There was a tenderness in Bianca's voice that unnerved Evangeline. Suddenly she remembered Destler's words. He's completely in love with her…

"Bianca…" Evie said, thinking aloud. "You don't think he has developed feelings for another woman?" Bianca blushed fiercely.

"Of course not!" She said quickly. "Come now…stop with these silly notions. Let's sleep." Evie nodded and kissed her sisters forehead. "Nothing to worry about dear." Bianca said with a yawn, putting an arm around Evie.

Ansel had come early the next morning, and was sitting up with Giselle when Fern and Evangeline emerged from dressing. Bianca was still getting dress, as she had been braiding her long, dark hair when Evie had left the room.

"You're here early." Evangeline said, pleasantly surprised. Kissing his cheek, she sat beside him.

"I've just been to the church. Everything is set." He replied, easily. He smiled, though she noticed his eyes were not happy. A small pang of sadness pierced her heart. Could Ansel really be harboring feelings for Bianca? Immediately, she felt a horrible sense of guilt. She could never forgive herself if she bound Ansel to a life married to the sister of the girl he loved. Evie did love Ansel, and it would hurt terribly, but she would let him go if that was the case. Bianca came into the room then, avoiding looking at anyone but Giselle as she smiled and kissed their mother's cheek.

"Morning Maman." She said, giving Ansel and Evie a fleeting smile. Evie noticed the same muscle in Ansel's jaw was ticking. His eyes followed Bianca to her seat and Evangeline felt her heart sink, confirming her worst fears. Ansel was in love with her sister and she hadn't noticed. Or maybe she had, but she had ignored it because the thought of being alone was terrifying. She was already nearing spinsterhood, and no men would want her. The only other man she had kissed was Monsieur Destler, who wasn't exactly marriage material. A sudden thought came to Evie as she rose from her seat, turning to look at her family.

"Ansel…I need to take care of something. Could I take your carriage?" She asked. He raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

"Of course, I'll accompany you…"

"No." She said. "I need to do this alone."

"Evie, you need a chaperone." Giselle said sternly. Evie laughed nervously.

"Oh Maman, I'm just going to visit a friend. Madame Giry and her daughter from the opera." She lied. Giselle consented, but looked unconvinced. Ansel walked her to the carriage.

"I don't like you going places without me." He said worriedly. Kissing his lips, she gave him a look that betrayed her melancholy.

"I'll only be gone a bit. Surely you won't mind staying with my mother, Fern and Bianca." Her heart ached as he blanched at the sound of Bianca's name, but he nodded.

"Of course I don't mind." He replied, helping her into the carriage. When he was inside the hotel again, she got the driver's attention.

"I need to go to Monsieur Destler's estate on the Boulevard de Ecole." She said quietly. The footman gave a look of protest.

"But, Mademoiselle, the viscount…"

"I promise to give you extra money for your silence." She said quietly. Nodding, he urged the carriage forward. Evie stomach was wrung into knots as she thought of what she might say to the man when she saw him. She needed advice and she had no idea who to turn to but the very person who had noticed it in the first place.

Monsieur Holden answered the door quickly, looking at Evie with a half smile.

"Mademoiselle Lambourne? Is it you?" He asked, recognizing her from her previous visit months before. She smiled politely.

"I'm surprised you remember."

"I never forget a face…and yours is quite pretty." He added kindly. She studied Holden, who was an obviously young, intelligent man and wondered why he was a manservant for Monsieur Destler.

"Is your master home?" She asked hesitantly. Nodding he led her into the same parlor she had interviewed Destler in.

"Make yourself comfortable, I shall fetch him for you." Holden said, leaving the room. Destler appeared almost instantly, entering the room with a look of stone on his face.

"Evangeline." He said harshly, his face cold. In his eyes, she thought she noticed a hint of panic. "What are you doing here?" A sudden lump formed in her throat as she tried to find the words.

"You were right." She whispered, blinking back tears that threatened to fall. "He's in love with my sister…" Her voice was hoarse. He did not react, but stood motionless in the doorway. "He loves my sister," She repeated, "And now I don't know what to do."

"And you came to me for advice, sweet?" He asked sarcastically. "I don't have a solution for you…I'm hardly a relic on love."

"I didn't know where else to go." She said, a tear escaping and falling down her cheek.

"You should leave, Evangeline…you shouldn't be here." It wasn't a threat, it was a plea. Surprised she looked up at him, his face was contorted as though someone had kicked him in the stomach.

"Why?" She asked, getting up. "Am I intruding?"

"Yes." He said without hesitation. "You are." For an instant, she believed him, and began to leave before he spoke again. "You're intruding my mind…my thoughts…my fucking dreams…you need to leave, now."

"What did you say?" She asked, turning to face him again.

"You have to stay away from me, Evangeline." He said tightly. "Marry Lord LaSalle or if he won't have you…anyone…a bloody peddler for all I care, just leave me."

"I don't understand." She said, leaning against the settee for support. Swiftly, he stalked toward her, as her heart fluttered madly in her chest. She settled against the wall as he braced his hands on either side of her head, holding the wall for support.

"Whenever I'm around you, I want to rip your clothes off of your supple little body and do horrible things to you." He sighed raggedly, "Don't you understand now? I want to make you feel things you've never even dreamed of with my mouth…with my hands…" She could feel his breath against her ear. "That's why you need to leave…because I can't marry you, Evie. I couldn't even if you wanted to…I'm a bad person with no morals." She gasped aloud as she felt the tip of his tongue touch her earlobe. "All I am is a goddamned deformed murderer. Run from me Evangeline." He begged. "Go now."

As if her hands had a mind of their own, they came to rest on his face, feeling the smooth skin of his exposed cheek, his well formed nose and his eyelid. Her fingertips felt the soft leather of his mask, running along the edges.

"I want to see you, Monsieur Destler." She said quietly. "I'm going to take off your mask." He did not try to stop her as she pulled the leather away from his face. Her heart jumped into her throat as she studied his mangled flesh. The deformity ran from a bit into his hair line, over his right ear to just below his nose. Yellowish skin covered the blue veins that protruded. His beautiful eye was sunken and reddish around the lids. His nose was partially unformed, revealing a nostril in a bit of unrecognizable flesh. Fascinated and horrified all at once, she dropped the mask absently and brought her fingertips to his damaged skin. It was soft and fragile. She noticed he was staring at her intensely, unmoving. She opened her mouth to speak, but her words would never be heard as his mouth closed over hers gently. This kiss was far different from the angry, possessive one he'd given her at Lady Saber's ball. It was the easy caress of his lips over hers, tender and yet lusty. Her breath quickened as his tongue softly parted her lips, tasting the inside of her mouth. As her knees began to give out, he caught her around the waist while she twined her arms around his neck, grabbing handfuls of his thick, clean black hair. A guttural groan emerged from his throat simultaneously with a whimper that had left her.

Evie felt herself being lifted off the ground and taken to the settee. She could feel his hands tugging at her bodice, attempting unsuccessfully to free her breasts from the fabric and to her horror; she was doing nothing to stop him, but had her hands on his wrists and was very nearly helpinghim to expose her. If someone walked in…she would be ruined, but somehow the thought didn't worry her at the moment.

"Monsieur Destler…" She sobbed against his lips.

"Say my first name." He growled as she struggled for a moment, never having spoken it before.

"Erik…" She whispered. "Erik…" Repeating the name, she found more confidence. "Erik." She moaned against his lips. A low sound came from his throat as he pulled away, looking down at her.

"You'd better go." He choked, getting up and turning away. Quickly, he straightened his clothing as she tried to regain her sanity.

"I…yes, you're right." She said. "I should…but, I don't want to. What if I refuse?"

"Then I'll leave." He replied. A startled laugh escaped her.

"It's your home!" She said. The look in his eyes was anything but amused.

"I can't…I can't…" He said breathlessly.

"You can't what?"

"Nothing." He replied, regaining composure. "Go home now." He ordered, leaving her. On trembling legs, she made her way back out to the carriage after she'd rearranged her appearance.


Christine reclined, trying to relax in the private parlor of her home with Raoul. It was impossible, however because his entire family was visiting them in England for two weeks and the Countess had been giving non-stop advice to her about child rearing.

"You must be firm," She'd said. "You mustn't ruin children by coddling them or holding them all the time."

"My child will not lack for love or affection, my lady." Christine had said moodily. "If he or she wants to be held, then they shall. There will certainly be no shortage of arms."

"Hmpf." The woman had replied. She'd gone behind Christine's back to Raoul too, Christine knew because Raoul's sister, Rosalie had told her.

"She said that she was only trying to help…and that you had been dreadful to her." The girl said with a look of irritation. "She's always favored Raoul, you know…if it hadn't been you he'd wanted to marry it wouldn't have mattered. No girls were good enough for her golden son." Rosalie rolled her eyes. "She'd failed the first two times with Kate and I…and when she finally got her son, she was content and we were forced into the background."

"That's ridiculous." Christine said. Rosalie shrugged, looking at her wedding ring.

"It is what it is…" She said. "I'm warning you though Christine…she will try to drive a wedge between the two of you. He's so good and sweet that he'll do anything to keep the peace, but Mother has always been a vulture. Papa is oblivious."

"I don't know what to do." Christine said miserably, rubbing her middle to try and soothe the restless babe inside.

"Raoul needs to realize what she's doing, the poor naïve boy." Rosalie said. "Kate and I will defend you no matter what."

"Thank you, Rosalie." Christine said, meaning it. The pretty girl nodded, her light hair getting into her face.

"What are sisters for, after all?" She asked, a look of mischief on her face. Christine sudden became sad, missing Meg and Aunt Annie, who were her only family.

"What are you up to, my little imp?" Rosalie's husband, Colin came into the room.

"Nothing dear." Rosalie said innocently. "I'm just telling Christine what mother is up to with her."

"Ah yes…the Countess and her son." He said, knowingly. Christine sighed in distress.

"If I wasn't as big as a house, I would…I would…"

"I know dear. Frustrating, isn't she?" Rosalie said sympathetically. "But you won, Christine. You married Raoul and there's nothing she can do about it now…I mean, obviously." She laughed, indicating Christine's swollen middle. Raoul came into the room, looking completely exhausted.

"Christine…I need to speak with you." He said, nodding at Rosalie and Colin, who got up to leave out of courtesy.

"We'll speak at dinner, dearest." Rosalie said soothingly.

"What is it, Raoul?" Christine asked, resuming her knitting.

"You became angry with my mother when she tried to give you advice." He said desperately. Her eyes flashed at him.

"Of course you're going to take her side as always." Christine said quietly. Raoul sighed, exasperated.

"I am tired of being a mediator!" He said. "I will always take your side, but she said that you blew up at her!"

"I did not…" Christine replied venomously. "She told me I shouldn't show my child affection!"

"She's just got different opinions…" He began lamely, but Christine struggled to get up.

"You are taking her side!" She accused. "You know what? You deserve each other, you and your precious mother! She doesn't think I'm good enough for you…I've heard the things she says…she practicallybegged you to make me your mistress and not your wife! She thought I had been sleeping with the managers at the opera…if shecould have married you herself, she would have. It's me or her, Raoul!" He followed her into their bedroom as she began pulling drawers open and removing clothes.

"What are you doing?" He asked, his voice laced with panic.

"I'm going away…I won't stay here another minute!" Christine said, tears running down her face as she thrust clothing into her valise.

"Christine, don't do this…" He pleaded, but she was resolute.

"No Raoul, unless you tell your mother to leave."

"I…I can't do that." He said quietly, making her ache.

"She tried to drive us apart and she succeeded. Tell her congratulations for me." Christine spat, walking down the stairs past Raoul's sisters and their husbands. The Countess emerged from the library, staring daggers at Christine.

"What is going on?" She asked, and Christine glared at the woman.

"You win! Damn you! I'm leaving…"

"Christine! Wait…" Raoul begged, but Christine did not look back. As she reached out to open the front door, she doubled over in pain, dropping the valise as she fell to her knees.

"Oh no…" She moaned, everything becoming blurry as people swarmed her.


Raoul sat with his head in his hands on the floor outside the bedroom as he waited for the doctor to examine Christine. The scene replayed over and over again, and the thought that their baby could die consumed him. The rustle of a skirt caught his ears and he looked up to see his sister, Rosalie standing.

"Can I join you, baby brother?" She asked. He shrugged, as she invited herself to sit beside him.

"It's my fault." He choked, tears beginning to fall from his light eyes.

"No…it isn't. It's Mother's fault, Raoul." Rosalie said, taking his hand. "She's been adamant about making Christine miserable since the day you two married."

"I didn't listen to her…" He said, raking a hand through his short, brown hair. "I should have listened…I knew Mother was being ridiculous with her and I ignored it." With a sob, he looked at his sister. "What kind of husband am I?"

"Normal. Raoul…Mother has always been obsessed with you…only you didn't notice it, but I did. Kate did too…No matter what happens today, you need to tell Mother to bugger off and let you live your life with Christine."

"You're right Rosie." He said softly. "I've been such a fool and now I could lose my child and my wife. I've got to tell her how much she means to me. What if something is wrong and they both die and I never get to tell her how much I love her?"

"That's not going to happen, Raoul." Rosalie comforted as light poured into the hallway.

"Lord Chagny?" The doctor asked in English. Raoul nodded, standing.

"Yes? My wife…is she?" The man nodded.

"She's fine…the child is going to be fine…but Lady Chagny needs to remain in bed until the birth. No walking around the estate…no walking up and down stairs." He said. Raoul sagged against the wall in relief.

"Is she…?"

"She is awake and she asked me to send you in." Paying the man, Raoul gave his sister a look of gratitude and entered the bedroom where Christine was sitting up in the bed, talking soothingly to her belly. Noticing him, she smiled reaching for him.

"Raoul."

"Christine…" He sobbed. "I am so sorry…for everything; I'm such an idiot, I…"

"Hush." Christine said, taking his hand and pulling him to sit on the bed with her. "The baby is going to be fine…I just need to rest until he or she is born."

"I believe you…I am on your side…I love you, Christine." He said, putting his head into her lap with his cheek against her stomach. Placing his hands on her, he could feel the child move, which was always interesting and its movements calmed him, reassuring him that there was indeed a very much alive little one inside. He got up to kiss her soundly on the lips and brushed her hair back. "I will send Rosalie in to keep you company, there's something I need to do." He said, and Christine nodded knowingly. His older sister had joined Rosie, so he sent the two of them in to stay with Christine while he sought out his mother.

The Countess was sitting in the lower parlor, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Raoul.

"Darling." She said warmly, but he remained aloof.

"Mother." He replied coldly, nodding at his father, who left the room in understanding.

"Is she going to be alright?" His mother inquired. Nodding, he bore his eyes onto hers.

"I want you to leave. First thing in the morning, I want you to return to Paris." He stated harshly, making her wince.

"But, I don't…"

"Stop it. I know what you've been doing and it's disgusting." He said. "Right now, I want to be alone with my wife until she gives birth to my child. I want to have my own family."

"I was your mother before she was your wife!" The Countess said bitterly. "You would just toss me aside like an old boot."

"No. Of course not. But now I see you are jealous of Christine…" He sighed. "Mother, how twisted could you be? She is my wife. She is the mother of my child. It's time for you to let go…I need to raise my own children now." He said.

"She is an opera singer, Raoul…" The woman said.

"She is…" He agreed. "I couldn't be prouder." Making to exit, he stopped and gave her one last look. "Goodbye Mother. I shan't see you off in the morning. I will be with my wife in our room." With that, he left her.


Evie trudged back into the suite at the hotel, where Ansel was waiting. Bianca noticed she was drawn and tired looking, her clothing was a bit rumpled. Ansel smiled warmly at the sight of her, frowning when he saw her state.

"Evie? Are you well?" He asked. She shrugged.

"Why shouldn't I be well?" She asked, patting his shoulder as she walked past him. "I think I'll just…lie down for a tick." Evie disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door. Bianca and Ansel met eyes for a moment, each looking away quickly.

"That's odd." She said, and he nodded.

"Yes it is…she was acting strange earlier too." He observed.

"Ansel," Bianca said quietly. "She said the strangest thing last night."

"Oh?" He asked.

"Yes," She went on quickly, "She asked if I thought you may have developed feelings for another woman…" Ansel choked, trying desperately to catch himself.

"What did you say?" He asked, and Bianca eyed him.

"Of course I said, no. You haven't…have you?" He shrugged.

"Everything's happening so fast, Bianca. Who can say what I feel any more?" He was looking at her differently than usual, she noticed and blushed.

"You must reassure her that you love her…you must." Bianca said, moving closer to him and taking his hand without thinking. He jumped. "Will you? For me?" His eyes became dreamy as he looked at her, though she tried not to notice.

"For you…yes…" He said vaguely.