Somewhere Inside

The dusky hues of evening had begun to fall over Paris by the time that Erik and Christine finally returned to their room at the Hôtel de Crillon. The day had been long, but the tumultuous emotions and painful confessions of the morning had finally given way to an almost pleasant afternoon. The luncheon conversation had been stilted at first, with Erik remaining somewhat sullen after the humor shared at his expense. In truth, he had been brooding over the fact that he had somehow begun to think of the boy in less disparaging terms.

Christine had once told him that the Vicomte's only sin had been in loving her, and Erik was forced now to confess that her words were true. Both men had loved her beyond reason. Erik had been willing to kill for her, and Raoul willing to die, yet neither of them had ever really stopped to consider Christine's feelings through their own conflict. Even had the Phantom been capable of civility upon the Vicomte's arrival at the Opera Populáire, he and her young paramour would still have come to blows over her love, though admittedly, with less catastrophic results. He vaguely wondered how events would have played out had the discovery of his relationship to the boy been made earlier.

During the course of the meal, Nadir and the Baroness had spoken eloquently about the paintings in her salon, and Erik had been surprised at how knowledgeable the Persian proved to be on the subject. Christine had remained strangely quiet throughout, every so often smiling distractedly at some comment or another. Eventually, his own opinions would not remain silent, and he had been forced to abandon his introspection and join into the discussion. His aunt had proven to be a fascinating woman, and he had allowed his natural curiosity about her to surface.

Anne-Marie de Chagny d'Amboise was an enigma. She made no pretense of the fact that she knew all there was to know regarding Erik's reign as the Phantom, and yet she welcomed him into her home, her very family, without hesitation. Indeed, she would brook no opposition in her single minded determination to legitimize him in Parisian society.

With intent to further persuade him to her cause, she had produced an old Daguerreotype of his parents, and Erik had scarcely been able to tear his eyes from the faded image. He had taken note of the Comte de Chagny's appearance, of course, but in a detached, scientific way; cataloging features and mentally comparing them to those which he saw each day in his own despised mirror. It was the Comtesse that he had not been able to look away from. His mother had been a small, delicate looking woman with a sweet, tender smile upon her lovely face. Seated next to her standing husband, she had truly seemed to be overwhelmed by his presence, but she remained utterly beautiful to Erik's eyes.

The Baroness had seemed to sense his hunger for details about the woman who had borne him, and she had told him more stories of the youthful Régine de Chagny, nee Eriksson. Apparently, the woman had been extremely clever by any standards, though, being of the fairer sex, she had not been at liberty to pursue her education beyond the shallow subjects deemed proper by society for young ladies to be versed in. How tedious it must have been to learn etiquette and embroidery while young men were encouraged to study science, history, astronomy…anything that their hearts could desire to know.

Yet, according to the Baroness, Régine had been encouraged by her father to glean whatever knowledge that she so craved, regardless of its supposed unsuitability for a young lady. Erik began to suspect that his above average intelligence may have been a trait inherited from his mother's family.

No doubt, his less than exemplary traits had been inherited from his father. Erik could care nothing for the man who had sired him. Michel de Chagny had done nothing in his pathetic life worthy of earning any consideration from his disinherited son. The Baroness was another matter entirely, and Erik could not help feeling respect for her. Whilst his mother had slipped into the role of a meek, aristocratic wife, the Baroness had used her position to stand strong at her husband's side. Yet for all her wealth and power, Erik suspected that she had suffered a great deal of pain in her own life.

Her frivolous youth, as she had called it, had melted away upon her marriage to the Baron d'Amboise, and she had been awakened to a world that she had before held little interest in. Politics, philosophy and the sciences had taken precedence over art, music and social niceties. Hospitals had replaced salons as the place to be, and the Baroness had devoted much of her time and energies to charity work. With such endeavors, she had established her own connections in Paris, even without her husband's not inconsiderable influence.

From what little she had said about the man, Erik had been able to ascertain that her marriage had been very much a love match. The political benefits to the De Chagny family had been merely an added incentive. Yet their happiness together had been forever shadowed by her inability to deliver a healthy heir to her husband…even as her own brother had thrown one away for the imperfection of his face.

The Baroness had already decreed that Erik would not be allowed to, in her own words, slink off into the shadows and ignore his aunt. Now that she had met him, she was even more eager to establish a connection. The woman had been forced to stand over the graves of her dearest friend, her brother, her beloved husband…and most recently her oldest nephew. Little wonder that she was determined to gather what remained of her family close to her now, even one so undesirable as Erik must certainly be. Perhaps he was mad…well, more so than usual…but deep down, he was greedy for what she was offering. His mind was swimming with the knowledge that he had an aunt who was unashamed to claim him. She would likely be the only one to do so, but it was far more than he had expected upon his return to Paris.

He had a sister whom he had yet to even lay eyes upon, but the Baroness had warned him that Élise may not be so kind in her welcome, and Christine's displeasure upon hearing the other woman's name had been evident. Erik held no expectations for a joyful family reunion, and he imagined that Élise would likely satisfy her morbid curiosity and run back to her ignorant little life with her husband to hide away in denial.

He knew that he would never establish a relationship with his brother beyond the barely civil exchange that they had shared earlier in the day, and even that had required the presence of the Daroga lest the confrontation degenerate into violence. Erik might have no longer felt the immediate urge to murder Raoul de Chagny, but that did not mean he was ready to declare a truce. Perhaps, if they were both very lucky, they might be able to coexist with stubborn avoidance of one another.

Erik had known of Philippe de Chagny only through the man's indiscretions at the opera house with Giuliana Sorelli. The prima ballerina's reason for leaving Paris so many years ago had been easily discerned by the older ballet rats, and their whispered gossip had floated through the walls of his domain. At the time, Erik had been entirely unconcerned with such affairs, focused as he had been on the newest arrival to the dormitories...Christine. Now he had a curious notion to visit Rome for just a glimpse of the child that was his niece.

Uncle Erik, how absurd!

He laughed aloud at the direction in which his wayward thoughts had traveled, and Christine, who had been engaged in the task of unpinning her hair at the vanity, looked at him queerly, asking, "What do you find so amusing, Erik?"

xXx

Christine was mildly surprised to see her husband's mirth after such a trying day. He had smiled so rarely in the past weeks, and the return of his good spirits made her heart sing. She found herself smiling in return as she watched his graceful movements in the mirror. Tugging loose his cravat, Erik came to stand behind her and met her eyes in the glass. Grinning, he said, "I was only reflecting upon the idea that I could somehow become a domesticated family man." He chuckled at his own jest, and gave a dismissive little shake of his head. "Can you even imagine?"

She could imagine very clearly. Indeed, she had been imagining little else for quite some time now. Her stomach flipped at Erik's careless words, its nervous flutters making her feel slightly ill (again) and the smile upon her lips began to tremble at the corners until it crumbled completely. "Erik…I," she began, and then lost her courage at the sight of his relaxed features. Inhaling unsteadily, she asked, "Do you truly find the notion so disdainful?"

He chuckled again, resting one hand upon her shoulder as he began to gently comb his fingers through her riotous curls. "I find it near to impossible," he said. "Perhaps I may consider further exploring my relation to the Baroness, but as for the rest," he shrugged, "I care little for any family ties beyond those which I have made for myself."

Christine dropped her gaze away from his, quietly whispering, "That we have made, Erik."

"Mmm, yes," he muttered absently, still toying with her hair, "of course." He clearly did not understand her full meaning, and her eyes fell closed. How could it be that a virtual stranger could guess the truth within moments, but her own husband remained stubbornly blind? She drew a fortifying breath as she attempted to gather the nerve to confess her secret, but before she could give it voice, she felt Erik lean down to press a chaste kiss against her cheek. "Let us speak no more of this subject tonight, my dear," he said. "The day has been long and I suspect that we are both exhausted." He straightened away from her and turned his attention back to shedding his formal attire.

At his casual dismissal of the subject, Christine felt the sting of tears begin to choke her and she struggled to hold them back, not wishing to alert Erik to her distress. Such joyful news should not be so difficult to impart. A shuddering breath escaped her unbidden, and her husband's attention was immediately captured. At first, she remained unaware of his questioning eyes upon her, sitting as she was with her gaze locked onto the wood grain patterns atop the vanity, but then she felt his hesitant touch against her hands where they rested protectively over her abdomen.

"Christine," came his rasped voice, and her eyes flew up to lock with his. He had moved soundlessly to kneel beside her with his face full of worry and dread. Brokenly, he asked, "The family that…we…have made?"

"Yes," she whispered with a trembling smile, moving one of her hands over his to press it closer.

His gaze fell to their enjoined hands for just a moment before snapping back to her face with fear and disbelief blazing. He roughly withdrew the comfort of his touch and quickly stood. "No," he said flatly, "you must be mistaken."

Those burning eyes were silently pleading with her to release him from this burden, to tell him that she was mistaken, and her heart began to break. Feeling far too vulnerable with him towering above her, she slowly straightened from her chair to stand before him. "I am not. A doctor has confirmed it."

"When?" he demanded on a growl.

She averted her eyes in shame, softly confessing, "Before we left Venice."

"And you failed to tell me!"

His entire form was vibrating with leashed anger, and Christine resisted the urge to shrink away from him. This was one battle that she could not…would not…forfeit. "I…I was hoping," she began impotently. Hoping that you would be as happy as I am. "Oh, Erik…" She reached out in a fruitless attempt to rest her palm along his cheek and force a connection between them, but he drew back sharply.

"No," he said weakly, turning away from her with resolve and pacing to the window. Christine pulled back her trembling, outstretched hand and pressed it to her lips to stifle her sobs. Her heart shattered fully into useless little pieces at her husband's feet, and tears streamed unchecked over her face. Only one thought could penetrate the numbness that settled over her.

Erik had rejected her…and their child.

A/N: Another cliffhanger. Even worse...I am taking a much needed vacation over the next several days, and will be away from a computer. Hopefully, I will be able to post either Wednesday or Thursday.

Not very many more chapters remain before the conclusion. As always, I thank you for reading and reviewing.

-pzp