Thank you so much for all of the wonderful reviews, I never meant to make anybody upset or cry, so I apologise! :)

(Christine)

The next morning...

"My love, I think that you should see this."

She had taken a bite of buttered taste, and swallowing quickly, she pressed her napkin to her lips, and rising from her chair, she walked up to Erik's side, smoothing the fine lacy material of light summer gown. It was just another normal newspaper article, or at least she thought so initially.

"Vicompte takes life in mysterious circumstances."

Beneath the bold headline was a photo of Raoul from before his decline in alcoholism, his blonde hair swept casually from his forehead as he gazed into the distance. Her breath caught in her throat and her knees shook beneath her weight. She pressed one trembling hands to her lips, the other gripped the arm of Erik's chair until her knuckles turned white.

"Perhaps you should sit down my love." Erik said, and rising from his seat, guided her shoulders so that she sank down into the plush material of the dining chair. She rested her head against the steeple of her fingers as her mind raced. It had only been yesterday that she had seen him, alive and relatively well. What had caused him to commit the ultimate sin, to take his own life? Was it her?

"Wh...wh..what does it say? The article?" She asked, her voice thick and quivering. It was not that she loved him, for he had changed so dramatically from the boy that she once knew, but they had been so close during her childhood, all those moments together when they had thought of nothing but stories of Little Lotte and the Angel of Music... But 10 years was a long time, long enough for the heart to heal, for it to beat again in time with another.

"Perhaps it would be best if I did not. I do not want to upset you, it could hurt our child." He said smoothly, taking Christine's cold hand within his own, and she smiled weakly.

"No Erik, I must hear. He was my friend. We were so close when we were children. I must hear, I must know what happened to him. Please." She said pleadingly, and with his eyes rapidly scanning her face, he nodded slowly.

"If you find it too much, you must tell me to stop." He said, and she nodded, biting her lip to prevent it from trembling. "The leading icon and prominent patron of the Opera Populaire, Raoul Vicompte de Chagny, was found dead, having apparently taken his own life. His body was found yesterday afternoon within his carriage, a pocket pistol within his hand. It is still unclear as to what caused Monsieur le Vicompte to take his life, but it emerged that he was suffered from depression and alcoholism..."

"I..I..please.." She stuttered, and Erik looked at her over the top of the paper, his eyes molten pools in sympathy scanning her face, reassuring.

"Christine, this was not a good idea." He said, a throwing the paper down on the table, he crouched down so that their faces were level. Taking both of her hands within one of his own, he cupped his cheek with the other, his little finger stroking the satin plumpness of her cheek.

"I miss the boy that I once knew." She whispered, tears steadily dripping from her eyes and splashing onto Erik's long fingers, and he cooed soothingly, gathering her in his arms and rubbing her back soothingly.

"You must not dwell on it, my love. He is gone, that boy from long ago. It is best to cherish the memories that you hold and move on." He whispered, tucking her thick curls behind her ears. He had to admit, in the very depths of his heart, that he was glad that Raoul was gone. He knew really that Christine loved him, but there would always be that part of him that imagined her leaving him at the first opportunity, and he would have been the most likely candidate, seeing as they had spent their early lives together. Now that he was out of the way, he had nothing to worry about.

"Erik, I..I think that I shall go and lay down. I'm so tired, and I don't want hurt our child." She said, distancing herself from Erik's arms, and leaning upon the arm of the chair, she rose to her feet, one hand pressed to her stomach. Brushing her fingers across Erik's sunken cheek, she walked slowly towards the door.

"Christine, wait. Please." He called, rising to his feet, and striding across the room he grasped her slim hand within his own. "Christine, please don't just walk away from this. Let us talk it through. You are upset, it is obvious, but don't just leave me here. I can help you, I can share your pain." His voice smooth, the rich tone of his voice like honey in her ear, he turned her to face him with a gentle touch upon her shoulder.

"There's nothing you can do for me. It is not fair to lumber this on you, Erik. It is my problem and mine alone." She pulled her hand from his, and turning upon her heel, walked out of the door, letting it fall shut behind her.

He wandered back to the table, sinking into dining chair, and slowly poured himself a cup of hot, steaming coffee, watching transfixed as the steam curled upwards toward the ceiling, towards his love. He needed to clear his mind. It ate away at him to know that his beloved was upstairs, mourning for a man that had been so big a part of her life. Did she regret choosing him after all? Did she wish, even now, that she had left with Raoul, that she were far away from this house, from him? His head sinking into his hands, he rubbed his brow. How he longed for the mind numbing oblivion of opium, the sweet bliss that it brought to the turbulence of his thoughts. But he would never do that again, he had promised Christine. He had promised her. He needed something to take his mind off of his uselessness, his craving.

Downing the hot, rich contents of his cup, he rose quickly to his feet and strode through the house and out thought the French doors into the garden, wandering through the gardens until he came to a secluded corner encircled by thick pine trees. Within, like a hidden gem, was a small wooden hut, with a window either side of the little door. Pushing down on the latch, he stepped into the shadows of the room and removed his coat, slinging it over the back of a stray chair.

Rolling up his shirtsleeves over the wiry muscle of his arm, he set to work. Drawing a scrap of paper from the sideboard and a pencil, he set about sketching the perfect design. It would have to be just right. The engravings upon the sides, the support for the little curtains that would shut out the light, it would have to be just the right size to fit their precious little bundle inside. Stepping back from the paper, he surveyed his work. His calculations were wrong. The left and right side would be too long for the others, they wouldn't fit smoothly. And the joints were wrong. Making notes in the corner as he calculated, he hastily scribbled out the mistakes and corrected them. Perfect.

Taking a plank of wood that stood propped, ready,against the side of the hut, he walked carefully with it to the workbench, securing it properly upon the table with a clamp. Withdrawing a tape measure and pencil from his workbox stuffed with tools, he stretched the tape measure from one end and marked the require length, drawing a line which he followed with a hand saw, turning his face into his arm as chips of wood flew up into his eyes. He worked continuously until all the planks were the correct size, and the edges smooth.

At the top of the pile of tools within his box, glinting in the shaft of sunlight that fell through the window, was a chisel. For about a week, he had been planning on working upon every item of the nursery; the crib, the little wardrobe,the rocking chair. They were to be a surprise for Christine,but the rest of the room was to be decided upon together from the colour of walls to the floor covering. But it had been a challenge to get away from her to come to his workshop, to work upon her surprise. The hours that he spent slaving away with tools would be worth it to see the look upon her face. Stepping around the planks, he seized the tool, and shooting a glance at his plans, placed the chisel against the plank of wood and set to work carving.

I'm sorry that this chapter is so short, but I've been really busy recently and it's been difficult to find time to write. It will be better next chapter, I promise! :)