A/N: Again, I apologize for the lack of updates... This story has been going slowly. Writer's block is horrible. This is a very short chapter, and I am sorry... Hopefully the next one will be longer...?

I hope to hear from you! If there are any readers who do not have an account, I accept anonymous reviews... so please tell me what you think!

{Rose Diamund}

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE-

Erik's fingers danced across the piano, sending a melody to echo off the walls of the dim lair. Such beauty that filled the air as the music played on, Erik's hands gliding easily.

Meg stood watching him from behind the gate. He truly was the master of song, an Angel of music in every way. Watching him now, it was utterly impossible to think that such a blessed man had lived such a cursed life. Such grace… Meg felt eyes flutter shut, but suddenly opened them again. No. She could not allow herself to think like this again. She was here for Christine. "Erik!" She called suddenly, dismay setting in the pit of her stomach as the playing stopped. "Erik, open the gate!"

As the gate slid up, screeching, Meg ran to Erik. "I-it's Christine!"

Erik voice dripped with worry. And Meg felt a tears prick her eyes as she saw Erik's utter distress. If she were in pain, would he feel the same for her? "Why? What's happened?"

"The baby… it's… blood…" Tears forced themselves down Meg's cheeks; through she attempted feeling to claw them back. God Almighty, why was she crying? Was it because of Christine? Or because…

No, of course it was because Christine was hurt. Christine meant more to Meg than anybody else in the world. She had always been there… always soothed her in her distress.

"She's hurt…" Meg whispered breathlessly.

It only took those two words to send Erik bolting from the lair.

Meg began to follow, but stopped. She looked over at the piece he had been playing. She looked at the messy pile of sheet music he had stacked on top of his piano, and she saw the lyrics to the lovely song. Before she could stop herself, the words sprang from her mouth. Her voice not as confident nor as beautiful as Christine's, but gentle and soothing:

"Who knows when loves begins? Who knows what makes it start? One day it's simply there… alive inside your heart..."

Such beauty in the lyrics, such truth. Meg sighed at the thought of the word. Love. Somehow, it didn't seem real anymore.

Turning her back to the piano, Meg ran from the lair, soon finding herself back in Christine's room. She swallowed hard watching the scene before her.

Erik stood at the side of his bed, clutching Christine's hand tightly. She was staring up at the ceiling breathing heavily, her face tear streaked and her eyes bloodshot. With a scream of pain, beads of sweat rolled down Christine's forehead. And Meg took a sharp breath in as she saw Christine's knuckles turn white because she was holding Erik too tightly.

The formerly white blankets were almost completely soaked with crimson, wet blood.

"Oh, God!" Christine screamed, her breath uneven and her voice shrill. Tears were unrelenting down her cheeks, "Erik…" She whispered desperately.

"You're all right, my love. You will be all right." Erik promised worriedly. It sounded as though he was trying convincing himself as much as he was Christine.

Meg closed her eyes, and wrapped her arms around her mother, "Help her…" She whispered to nobody. "Please…"

Madame Giry patted Meg sympathetically on the back, but broke away and wiped Christine's forehead with a cloth. "My dear, you are being so brave. It is almost over, I promise you."

"My baby…" Christine protested weakly, "Is there no saving it?"

"My darling, we will do everything possible, but only as long as you come out alive. Please, try to hold on," Erik pleaded. "We will do everything in our power for you, I promise… Just please, please hold on…"

Christine didn't speak for a moment; she didn't even move. She stared at the floor, eyes unmoving.

"Christine? I-is it over?" Meg asked timidly. Her voice shook violently, and her chest tightened as Christine did not say anything.

Her eyes lifted to Meg and she sighed. Her last bit of energy seemed to flow out of her, "It's over…"

Madame Giry brushed Erik's shoulder, "Erik, perhaps…"

Erik stood, "Yes." He headed toward the door, then turned and shot one last loving look to Christine. He left.

Hesitantly and slowly, Madame Giry raised the soaked blankets from Christine.

Christine took in a sharp breath and tears fell down her cheeks. The baby was tiny. It was covered with blood, it's body soaked. There wasn't any telling of the gender, nor were there any readable features. It was just… there, crimson leaking off of it.

"Oh, God." Christine breathed, her eyes unmoving from her dead child. "My baby…"

Meg closed her eyes, unable to see the child before her.

Madame Giry took one of the blankets, and wrapped the child in it slowly. She looked at Christine questioningly.

"B-bury it." Christine whispered shakily.

Madame Giry nodded, "I'll go get help…"

She left the room.

"Meg…" Christine stared at the bloody sheets on her bed. She looked up, "Do you think there is something wrong with me?"

Meg reached out and touched Christine's hand, "No, you were just… unlucky. Thousands of women have miscarriages. But I'm sure you will be able to bear children. I am sure of it, Christine."

"And if I cannot?" Christine's voice was hardly audible. "Do you think… Raoul would blame me for this?"

Meg could not answer. Her throat tightened. But she choked words out, "H-h-he daren't."

Christine's voice had a bitter ring to it as she spoke, "There are many things you'd think he daren't do."

Meg stayed silent. She looked into Christine's deep chestnut eyes, filled with agony and sorrow. "I am so sorry, Christine. I truly am…"

"Meg," Christine looked up at her friend, "You… you truly love Erik, don't you?"

Meg thought of protesting. But she moved her eyes to the floor, "With all my heart."

"Then I am sorry." Christine replied. "I have caused grief for you, and horror. And Isabelle… I am so sorry. I never knew… I didn't want to hurt you…" Christine's voice cracked with emotion, "I just… I hope you can ever forgive me. I have destroyed your family… hurt you and… I am so sorry…"

Meg did not look up, "I could never deny you forgiveness, Christine."

But Christine heard something to her voice, an edge. A slight harshness. "I have thought… after all of this has happened. With Raoul… and since Isabelle was born… perhaps it would be better if I tried to redeem myself the only way that I know how. It has been so long since I could ever call myself truly innocent of anything. And there is no way to forget the past. However, I can try… try to make this right as much as I can. But I suppose that could come with a sacrifice."

"What?" Meg asked urgently.

Christine shook her head, "I broke Erik's spirits… I destroyed him and you were the one to redeem him. The one to once again bring him to faith. The one to help him from such a dismal state… and then I return. Sometimes I ask myself, if I am truly worthy of Erik's love." She looked up at Meg. "I ask myself if it should be you he seeks to marry. You who he sings for, and sings to. It should be you Meg. It should be you."

"Perhaps you are right," Meg said. "But it is not me. It is you. He loves you, Christine. He always will. Do not torture yourself because of the past. If Erik and I were meant to be, we would be. But it is you and he. You are his Angel, Christine."

"Thank you so much, Meg." Christine gave Meg a watery smile.

"Hello? Monsieur Destler?" Jade called out. She soon saw the lair. It was empty. "Erik?" She called once more.

Silence.

Jade stepped onto the cold, stone platform. She walked over to a large desk sitting in the middle of the platform. She gazed around at the lair. It was beautiful. The dimly lit candles were inviting, and yet Jade shivered slightly. The first time she had seen Erik, he had been defensive, perhaps a bit frightened. She had only seen him once, and still she felt as if she knew him once. Something of his name, of his voice when he spoke… it all sounded familiar.

He was the Phantom of the Opera. She knew that. It had been obvious since she had first seen him. But she felt something strange, as well. He had something about him that she… recognized. But of course that was impossible, wasn't it? Or was it? Could she have seen him somewhere?

Erik Destler.

The name rang throughout her mind like a familiar chime. But she couldn't place where had heard it. She couldn't remember…

Then something caught Jade's eye. It laid on the desk, only a corner of it sticking out. Under a pile of sheet music was a red corner of… a piece of parchment? Jade picked it up. No, it was a envelope. And red envelope. It read on the front in an unfamiliar scrawl:

Erik Destler.

December 27th, 1869

For a moment, nothing came to mind. But suddenly…

Jade's lips parted in shock. December 27th, 1869… It all became clear.

That was how she knew him…

Jade ran from the lair, the red envelope still in her hands.

She needed to see Erik.

A/N: Darn cliffhangers. That's just how I write, sorry! So Jade's finally an important character now, isn't she? Hmm... maybe finally we'll find out what Erik did... I just have to make so many things happen all at once, don't I? Eventually, somebody's gonna get weighed down...

Tell me what you though, maybe what you'd like to see happen. And of course, any complaints you have, I'd love to hear from you!

Until then,

{R.D.}