Waking up with a start, Christine slowly sat up, and looked at her surroundings, slightly surprised to find herself back in her bedroom. Falling back against her pillows Christine pulled the covers back over her head. Inhaling, Christine got a whiff of a fresh smell that reminded her of the great outdoors, and immediately felt nauseated. Attempting to get out of her room, Christine tripped, and landed heavily on the floor, and promptly vomited. There was a moment of silence, and then Erik walked in.
"I thought I heard something, are you ok?" He bent down towards Christine.
"I feel ill." She closed her eyes feebly.

"Here." Erik hoisted her up in his arms, and began carrying her back to her bed. "Try to sleep it off. Do you need anything?" He asked, brushing her hair off of her face.
"Mm, I would like some Scandinavian chocolate." Christine perked up a little.
"Some what?" Erik asked, taken aback.

"That would be so great right now." Christine smiled a little dreamily.
"Um, all right."
"And if you could hurry, I would greatly appreciate it." Christine called as he left the room. "Hmm, I feel a little better." She remarked to herself, and fell back asleep.

Hours later, Christine was rudely awakened by Erik bustling into her room.
"I found it." He announced excitedly.
"Found what?" Christine asked crossly.

"The chocolate you wanted, it took me forever to find genuine Scandinavian chocolate but I found it." Erik presented the chocolate to her.
"I don't want it anymore." Christine turned her back to him.
"This is an awkward sort of illness that you have got going on." Erik commented, in a slightly disbelieving tone as he exited her room again.

Christine passed another restless, moody week, when she discovered she was pregnant. At the time of the revelation, Christine was alone in her room. Feeling a little overwhelmed; her primary reaction was ecstasy. Falling backwards, she began stroking her stomach.

"I finally get to have the baby that I always dreamed about." Christine whispered to herself, smiling, when a second thought rushed through her head, causing her to sit up in shock. "Erik hates kids." She realized, biting on her fingernail. Frightened that he would get angry with her and blame her, Christine pulled her knees to her chest, and began worrying to herself.

Shutting her eyes, Christine tried to think rationally, when her door flew open, and Erik walked in, causing Christine to cry out in shock.
"What's the matter with you?" He asked, inspecting her face suspiciously.
"Nothing." She said, her voice rising several octaves in her anxiety.
"You sure have been acting strangely lately."
"It's just that-" Christine faltered.

"Tell him tell him." She tried pepping herself up. "No don't tell him." She immediately contradicted herself.
"I'm pregnant, and I know you hate kids, and I'm scared that you will be angry with me." Christine cried out, pressing her hands against her eyes, and Erik immediately went over and hugged her. She wrapped her arms around him fiercely. "You're not mad?" She asked hopefully.

"Of course I'm not." He whispered, burying his face in her shoulder. "Everything is going to be great from now on, I promise."

3 Years Later

"Mama?" Christine looked up from the novel she was reading to see her young son totter unsteadily on his feet. Smiling, she rushed over to him.
"Oh Lucas what are you doing still up?"
"Not tired." Lucas pouted slightly.

"Come on, it's time to go to bed." Christine hoisted him up in her arms, and starting carrying him to his room. "Now try to be a good boy, and get some rest." She whispered, tucking him into his bed.
"Sing." He ordered, as his little fists clutched on the front of Christine's dress.

"You know your father does that better that I can." She said smiling slightly, but nonetheless, she knelt down, and began singing softly. As she reached the last note, she noticed that he had fallen asleep. Grinning to herself, Christine got up to leave the room, and once she got to the doorway, she turned back around to glance back at little Lucas. Sighing, she leaned against the wall, and emitted a shriek of shock as the wall opened behind her, and she toppled into darkness.

"I cannot believe that I am twenty-three and still a member of the ballet corps." Meg grumbled to herself, as she made her way to the stage by herself in the middle of the night. "I wasn't even the worst one out there, but of course I have to go practice by myself in the dead of the night." She snarled to herself, crossing her arms, and she started sprinting over to the stage.

Once Christine was wrapped in darkness, she stretched her arms out in an attempt to find the trap that would lead her back to Erik's lair. Taking a few apprehensive steps forward, Christine's eyes slowly adjusted to the complete darkness, and she began eagerly following the path in hopes that it would lead her somewhere worthwhile.

After what seemed like hours, Christine found a small wooden door, and opened it gingerly. Blinking stupidly against the sudden brightness, she found that she was backstage.

Hearing a loud clanging noise, Meg stopped mid-pirouette, and looked to see where the source of the noise came from. Careful not make any noise herself, Meg peered between the heavy velvet curtains, and saw Christine. Pressing her fist against her lips in order to prevent a cry escape from her, Meg gaped in wonder at Christine's distorted face. Sensing that someone was watching her Christine completely turned around, and Meg whipped her face back, breathing heavily.

"Christine!" Meg turned around warily to see the Phantom rush towards Christine, and cover his arms around her. Watching in slight disbelief as led her away, Meg tried to gather her thoughts.
"So all this time, Christine was in Paris." She mused to herself. "And maybe Raoul was right; maybe she was held here by force." Still shaken up over the state of Christine's face, Meg decided that it was time to pay Raoul a visit.

"How did you know where I was?" Christine managed to ask, as Erik hurriedly led her back into a passage.
"I saw you disappear, and tried to take a shortcut."
"Fair enough." She replied, and wrapped her arm around his waist

Babette the maid opened the door to see a young girl in ballet clothing, hopping around anxiously.
"Yes?" She inquired politely.

"Um, is the vicomte in?" The girl asked.
"No, he hasn't been in Paris in three years." Babette reminisced slightly.
"He's still in Sweden?" The girl exploded.

"Oh, heavens no, I think he's in Romania right now." Babette paused, thinking hard. "Yes he's in Romania, he sends me letters every so often, and he thinks that he's following clues that are leading to his wife." The girl snorted derisively.

"Can I come in?" Babette stepped aside, and she strode in importantly.

"My name is Meg Giry, and I would like to contact the vicomte at once, do you have anything I could write on?" Meg asked, twisting her hair nervously. Babette nodded, and dutifully fetched some parchment and a quill. Hurriedly scrawling a note, Meg handed Babette the parchment urgently.
"Make sure you send it to him immediately." She gave the slightest curtsey, and flounced out of the house, leaving Babette bustling around, searching for Raoul's address