a/n And now, a bit of comedy. (authoress rolls up her sleeves)

CHAPTER 9—A BEGINNING

The night had been heading for madness the moment Bellona had recognized Raoul. The fact that she was now in an upstairs room giving birth with him by her side made things almost comic.

Erik paced the sitting room while Nadir, who had been staying with the family while Bell was in confinement, perused The Canterbury Tales next to Raja, who was knitting a blanket. Christine sat in a comfortable chair, looking utterly out of place in of Raja's Persian garb. The bright reds and oranges suited her well, and Erik may have pondered on this if it was not for his current preoccupation with the dysfunction at hand.

"How could she not tell me this?" he muttered. "I'll make him pay to fix that fence, you mark my word."

"Papa," Raja said warningly.Looking up, she smiled at him so pleasantly that it nearly drove him mad. "Let us not forget what you did not tell her. Or me, for that matter." She turned her pleasant smile upon Christine, though it was more genuine and less sarcastic now. When she spoke,Christine decided that her heavy Persian accent was soothing to Christine, who felt immensely out of place in the hosue of someone who had once offered her an untimatium driven by love."So, Christine, what are you planning on doing now that you are… how do I say… separate from Raoul?"

"Oh!" Christine, who had been silent since her offer to leave, save for a few "thank yous" here and there, sat up a bit straighter in her chair. "I'm not really sure. Everything has happened so quickly I haven't really had time to think about it."

"Damned boy."

"Papa, stop."

"I think I'd like to go on the stage, but—"

"How could she not tell me? Her own father?"

"Papa, that's enough!"

"—I'm just not sure where—"

"Since when does she keep anything from me?"

"Papa, stop it! You're being rude."

"—where exactly I'll go, now that—"

"She actually thinks that I'd—"

"Inchev!"

Everyone stopped to look at Raja, now on her feet, knitting forgotten, and shouting at Erik in her native tongue. When she had finished, she sat down in a huff. Nadir, who had been quiet the entire time, now began to chortle quietly. It quickly elevated into a laugh, and he was soon tearing as he boomed with mirth. Everyone stared at him as he attempted to compose himself. Erik glared at Nadir while Raja, still steaming, glared at her feet and muttered one last insult.

After a moment of what seemed to be stunned silence, Erik said, "Did you just call me an ass hole?"

"Yes. That's exactly what you are—right now, in any case."

Christine gaped at Raja. From what Raoul had told her of the girl, she was very sweet tempered, and she had been a great deal more than civil to Christine. Now, however, she looked ready to explode with rage as she sat on the couch.

All thoughts of the outburst evaporated as a scream echoed from upstairs. All heads turned upward as a resounding, "I'll kill you if you ever do this to me again!" reverberated through the house. There was a beat, then all of them, even Erik, burst into a fit of laughter. It continued for several minutes before Nadir stood.

"If you will all excuse me, I think I'd like a stiff drink." He held out a hand to Raja, who was lying on her back on the floor, still giggling. "Would you care to join me?"

As they left the room, Christine and Erik realized exactly what they were doing. They were being purposefully being left alone in a house where there was nowhere to hide comfortably, owing to the screaming woman upstairs. Christine sat back down in her chair and watched as Erik resumed his brooding pacing, all mirth now gone from him.

"You really should sit for a bit," Christine said softly after several minutes. He froze, but did not look at her. "You'll wear yourself out and you won't be awake when it's time."

Silent as ever, Erik slowly crossed to the vacant couch and sat. Another few minutes of silence followed, during which Christine tried her best to gather her courage to speak. She had not followed Raoul around the French countryside and gotten blisters on her feet to finally find this man and fall quiet.

"Erik," she said softly. His head jerked up to look at her as if he were startled that she would speak to him. "I…" She inhaled sharply. "I'm sorry for…everything."

He looked away to the doorway, which was dark and empty. Still, though, he did not speak.

"I never meant for things to happen the way they did," she said, speaking quickly before her courage ran out and she turned into a sodden mess of silk and tears. "I was stupid—naive and foolish. I didn't know what I was feeling—I still don't. And I just…" She faltered as her throat caught. "I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry."

Tears flowed down her cheeks and she buried her face in her hands. Painful sobs choked from her chest and she fell into herself, into a world of pain and fear. She only surfaced when two strong hands pulled hers away from her face. He was kneeling in front of her, holding out a handkerchief. She took it and attempted to compose herself. When she had calmed down, he retreated back to the couch. After a minute or two, he spoke.

"I can't…" He hesitated. "I can't forget what happened that night. I'll never forget that night—I daresay you won't, either. It will take me some time to adjust to your being here, but I will. And in any case," he added, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, "I am still your teacher."

She smiled.

"I'm going to kill you!"

"I know, darling."

"No, Raoul, I mean it! I'm going to rip it off so you can never do this to me again!"

Bellona fell against the pillows, gasping for breath, pain still etched across her face. Raoul reached up and tenderly brushed tears from her red cheeks. For nine hours now, she had been contracting and crying out to God with promises to kill Raoul. As she gasped for air, Raoul pressed his lips against her hair and smiled. Nine hours. He had only been back with Bell for nine hours and although he was still a bit confused about a few things, he felt as if he had never been away from her. When her contractions had first started and been farther apart, she had managed to fill in a few of the blanks, and he knew enough about the happenings of the last few months to feel terribly guilty. That said nothing, though, of the fear he felt. Her father was a man who had tried to kill him over a woman once, but that woman had not been his child. He was terrified of what would happen after tonight, but he said none of this to Bell.

Everything was going so fast. Bellona was here next to him. She was giving birth to a baby—his baby. She had threatened his life more times than he cared to count that night, but he knew she would get over it. The prospect of fatherhood frightened him, even with as much thought as he had given it over the last few weeks. Still, he doubted his fear was anything to match Bell's. She had told him how scared she had been that he would never leave Christine—that she would be alone with a constant reminder of him. But he was here now, and he made sure she knew this.

Another contraction hit her then, and she hissed through her teeth with pain, clutching his hand tightly. The midwife Nadir had gone for several hours before moved from her chair and disappeared under the sheet to examine Bellona.

"Raoul," she moaned, "it's not stopping. Make it stop, please…" She trailed off, burying her face in his arm.

"It's time to push, dear," said the voice under the sheet. "I shall need you to push down as hard as you can."

Bell's head jolted backward as she let out a long groan. Raoul held tight to her, whispering words of encouragement into her ear. All the while, the midwife urged Bell on, and after several agonizing minutes there was a new sound.

The child came into the world with a healthy cry and Raoul beamed down at Bell. She was gasping for breath, and tears were streaming down her cheeks. "What is it?" she asked desperately.

Raoul leaned up and the midwife turned a bit so he could see the baby. "A girl," he whispered. "We have a little girl."

"Aimée," Bellona whispered. As Raoul propped her up on the pillows, the midwife crossed the room, having finished cleaning the tiny child, and placed her, wrapped in a soft fleece blanket, into Bell's arms. A look of wonder crossed her face as she gazed down at her new daughter.

"She's so tiny," Raoul murmured, wonderment filling his voice.

Tiny fingers curled into fists around a slender finger and Raoul was in love. Bell looked at him, smiling beautifully. "Do you want to hold her?"

Gently, careful of the tiny head, Bellona placed Aimée into Raoul's arms. Looking at her face, Raoul saw his nose and ears. Already, her eyes were more green than blue—her mother's eyes. The pigment of her skin was a bit darker than Raoul's—almost olive toned, from her mother's Italian side. Almost transparent wisps of dark hair adorned her head. There was no escaping from it, or any reason to attempt to—she was absolutely perfect.

"She'll need to feed soon," came the midwife's voice. "Do you remember how?"

"Yes," Bell murmured, staring at her daughter and her lover.

"I'll send up your father."

What seemed like a second later, there was a knock at the door. Turning, Bell called for her father to come in. He entered, accompanied by Christine, and stopped next to his daughter. Raoul looked at the other man. Any anger he may have been feeling at Raoul at that moment, any protectiveness, was not evident on his face. He stared at Aimée, enraptured.

"Here," said Raoul softly, standing and gently handing the girl to Erik.

Erik stared into her face for a long time, and her beautiful eyes stared right back. Rocking her gently in his arms, he took Raoul's now vacant seat chair next to Bellona, and he smiled at his daughter. "She's beautiful, darling."

"Of course she is," Bellona said with a small smile. "She's your granddaughter."

Erik smiled. "I'm a grandfather." He looked back down at Aimée. "What will you call me, little one?"

"How about Opa?" Bell asked.

"I'm not German."

Raoul chuckled. "Abba."

"Nor am I Hebrew."

"Poo."

Everyone turned to look at Christine, who was hiding behind her hands, trying hard to contain giggles. "My father always said that's what I called my grandfather."

There was a beat of silence and they all laughed. "Can't you just imagine?" Bell giggled. "'Poo, where are you?' or 'Poo! Tell me a bedtime story!'"

"How have I been reduced to telling bedtime stories?"

"I'm not sure, but I think 'Poo' is what we'll be calling you from now on."

Erik shook his head, half annoyed and half amused. "To the namer of the Poo, I pass on the child that will be calling for Poo when she is frightened." Standing, he passed the baby to Christine. She fussed for a minute, but Christine hummed gently, rocking her in her arms until Aimée let out a yawn and curled her tiny fingers into fists again. They were all silent as Christine smiled down at the little girl. Raoul looked at Erik, who was staring at Christine with such intensity it was almost frightening. She didn't see, though—she was staring down with amazement at the baby in her arms.

"She's so tiny," she whispered. She looked up at Bellona and spoke directly to her for the first time since arriving at the house. "She's beautiful." Stepping closer, she placed Aimée back into her mother's arms and glanced at Erik. "Shall we leave them alone?"

He nodded, looking a bit dazed, and turned to kiss Bell. "I love you, beautiful girl."

She smiled up at him. "I love you, too."

They left, and Raoul found himself knowing that everything would sort itself out in time and be just fine.

a/n I am NOT done yet, but it might be a while before anything else comes out. I've been trying to pump stuff out while I have time because I'm going to get a bit busy. I've got two speeches and a math project to work on in the next two weeks, so forgive me if it's another week or two… or three… or a year…