Christine was alone with her thoughts for a while longer, still not wanting to burden Erik with them. Although it weighed heavily on her sometimes, she noticed that within a handful of weeks her imaginings began to focus on the more hopeful aspects, and on how lovely their lives could be.

She found she increasingly wanted Erik's presence, though she found herself with not a lot to talk about. She asked his permission to sit in his office with him as he worked, and she sat in the corner, staying quiet and embroidering and admiring him when he wasn't looking. He loved her more than anything, she knew, and she was certain that with a love like that they could face anything together. Especially this.

She asked him questions about work and his projects, interested even when she didn't fully understand what he was talking about. So many times she wanted to just tell him in the middle of a conversation, but she felt so emotional over it all. Everything made her emotional these days, it seemed. Going to bed at the end of the day, taking a bath, getting dressed, hearing Erik play the piano, looking at his drawings for buildings, even eating breakfast.

But she had to tell him - she only had a certain window of opportunity before he realized it himself. She had one stipulation for herself when she told him, however - she couldn't cry. It just wouldn't do! He'd think she was sad about it, and she wasn't, not really.

But every time she tried to bring it up, she'd start thinking about their future, and about how fast this part of their lives would seem, and how quick their child would grow up. Still-

She helped him make breakfast and then they sat down to eat, her asking him about his work. She fidgeted with her fork all during the meal, trying to steel her nerves and will herself not to cry. Soon the meal was finished.

Christine followed him into the kitchen as he put their dishes into the sink. He was explaining something about his latest project, about the style of the pillars he was going to put on the front porch and as usual she didn't understand a word of what he was saying, but there something about how he said it, about how the light filtered in through the lace curtains over the window, of this kitchen that he designed and she had decorated and it felt like every point in time had converged in on this singular moment in their shared life together and she wanted it to last forever even as she felt it was surely breaking her heart.

She pressed her hands over her slightly less than flat stomach - her midsection didn't look any different under her skirts but she could tell when she ran her hands over that area in the bath that it was just a bit more than it had been - and stared at her husband as his back was to her. He was still speaking, and when he turned to her once more he was smiling that little smile he always gave after he had made a joke, but she hadn't even heard what he had said.

His smile faltered a little when he saw how she was looking at him, but before he could say anything else she launched herself at him after taking a tremulous breath, standing on her tiptoes and throwing her arms around his neck as she burst into tears.

"Christine!" he cried, his arms encircling her automatically. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head.

"Nothing. There's not a single thing wrong. I just love you so much," she sniffled.

Erik was baffled and a little frightened. He certainly didn't think she was acting like nothing was wrong. Why on earth was she crying? Because she loved him? She loved him every day, didn't she? But she didn't cry every day!

She pulled back just enough to look up at him, her gaze watery yet serious.

"Kiss me," she begged in a small voice, and he stooped down to give her a kiss that she eagerly returned.

She couldn't tell him, not yet.

Every night that they went to sleep together, her heart beat a little faster as he wrapped his arms around her, certain that one day he was going to notice the slight but definite changes her body was going through. But he didn't notice, or if he did, he didn't mention it.

In the meantime, she went to see a midwife to help ease some of her fears. It worked, to a degree. It also raised new fears in her, things she hadn't even thought to think of. She told Erik the trips were for shopping, and, to assuage her guilt, she actually did go shopping after, buying some useless trinket as proof of her trip.

Erik was so consumed with his work that he didn't pay what was happening much mind. Christine was more affectionate lately, and she seemed to have changed a bit, put on a few pounds, perhaps. He only took it as a sign that she was happy. No longer a dancer, she didn't need to worry about thin tutus and tights, and she'd become slightly more sedentary. Why, even he, the living skeleton, had gained a few pounds since living up in the sunlight with his wife!

It was one morning over breakfast that it first happened.

They had both just sat down to bowls of hot cereal, each one still a little tired and not fully awake yet, still wrapped in dressing gown and robe.

She was about to bring the first spoonful to her mouth when she felt it - a strange, fluttering sensation in her lower abdomen. She dropped her spoon, letting it fall to her bowl with a clatter.

She placed a hand over the area, but the slight movement continued.

She burst out in joyous laughter, looking to Erik with awe. Erik stared back at his wife, confused.

"What?" he asked. "What is it?"

She shook her head, beaming widely.

It was no longer just a hypothetical, just a concept looming on the horizon. She was actually pregnant - this was actually Erik's child under her hand, and she wanted that more than anything. Any melancholy or uncertainty attached to the subject melted away, leaving pure joy in its wake.

"Christine?" his brow knit.

"I-" she hesitated, then smiled softly, picking her spoon up again. "I'll tell you later."

He deserved to know, especially now that it was so real, but she knew that he'd likely lose his appetite after such an announcement. He'd barely even begun eating breakfast - the news would have to wait just a little while longer.

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Tell me now."

"Erik!" she giggled. "No! Later..."

"What is it?"

"I have news for you," she said ominously, lifting her eyebrows and trying to stifle her grin.

"Hmmm... Is the news, perhaps, that after so many years of living with her madman husband, Christine has gone a little mad herself?"

"No!" she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Your little fit of sudden laughter says otherwise, my dear," he replied gravely.

"I just- I'd thought of something funny from the other day, that's all."

Well, the thought of The Phantom of the Opera pushing a baby carriage was rather amusing, after all - it wasn't entirely a lie.

"Eat your breakfast!" she nearly shrieked, afraid she was going to burst out laughing or perhaps even crying.

He huffed but dutifully began eating.

It was almost painful to have to wait so long to tell him. After breakfast he left to dress for the day, then he went and sat in the reading room, and, waiting just long enough for him to settle in but not so long that she'd be interrupting him, she followed him.

She stood in the doorway a moment. He'd just finished stoking the fire in the fireplace and was about to pick a book off the shelf. He smiled warmly at her when he saw her there.

She took it as a sign he wanted her company and entered the room.

He sat in one of the large, plush chairs, book in hand but eyes lingering hopefully on Christine. She approached the chair and he held one arm out, inviting.

His breath hitched as she sat across his lap, snuggling close to him as he wound his arms around her, his book now forgotten.

He ran his fingers through her hair and pressed tender little kisses to her forehead. He didn't know how it was possible to feel more in love with her every day, but he did.

"Such a good wife to Erik," he murmured, and she kissed his neck as she hugged him.

They sat like that for a long moment, no sound in the room except for the crackling of the fire.

"Erik," she whispered. "I-"

She licked her dry lips. How to tell him?

"I have something to tell you. Something exciting. I'm very happy about it."

"Oh?" he petted her back.

She nodded.

"I want you to be happy about it, too."

"Hm. What is it, sweet?"

She squeezed him a little tighter. Once the words were said, there would be no going back for either of them.

"Erik..." her voice was soft, but she couldn't contain the joy in it. "You're going to be a Papa."

Erik froze, his eyes going wide.

"Christine-" his voice wavered.

"This is happy news, Erik," she pulled back to look up at him, placing a hand on his chest. "I want you to be happy about it, too."

"You... you are... with child?" he could barely choke the words out.

"Yes," she agreed softly. "And I'm so happy..."

"Christine, you- you can't be w-wi- you just had your menses last month!" he stuttered.

She shook her head slowly, a little confused.

"I haven't had that for months, Erik... What made you think I had it last month?"

He opened his mouth then shut it, grinning his teeth. He suddenly felt like the greatest idiot on earth - where did he get off assuming that the only reason his wife wouldn't acquiesce to his intimate wishes was because she was medically incapable?

"Because," he muttered, his face burning with embarrassment. "You, ah, you turned down my affections... I had assumed..."

"Oh, Erik," a smile tugged at her lips.

"But it is still early, is it not?" he tore his gaze away from the fire and searched her face eagerly. "You could be mistaken- women sometimes are, or so I've heard- this might just be temporary- you can't really be pr-"

She grabbed his hand and placed it over her womb, shocking him into silence.

"I'm not mistaken," she shook her head, holding his hand there. "You can't feel it, not really - but it's there. I felt it moving this morning! That's why I was laughing - it felt so funny! I know it's difficult to tell with all these layers, but you can see tonight when I get undressed - I'm already starting to show, just a little. It's very real, I assure you."

It didn't feel real to Erik. He felt sick to his stomach. As soon as she released his wrist he yanked his hand away from where she'd been holding it. He refused to even look in the direction of her middle.

"How long?" he asked, panic rising in him. "How far along?"

She could feel it moving? She could already see it growing? But these were things that happened later! How long had she kept this from him?

"Four months," she answered. "Maybe not quite... I... I wanted to be certain, you know, before I told you..."

He could feel hot tears gathering in his eyes, his breathing rapid and shallow.

Four months?

He wrapped his arms around her again, holding her tightly and silently crying.

"Oh, Christine-"

Hadn't her own mother died in childbirth? And she was already four months into her pregnancy...

He might only have five months left with her.

She felt a little conflicted. He didn't seem happy, and she honestly didn't expect him to, but still-

She let him hold her and cry.

She closed her eyes as she rested her head on his shoulder. How glad she was, then, that she had waited to tell him until she herself was certain that she was happy about it - if she had told him when she had a little bout of melancholy or even a hint of second thoughts, she didn't think she'd be able to handle his breakdown at the news.

"I feel so lucky, Erik, that I get to have your child," she whispered to him, and she meant it. "I know you might not feel the same way right now, but - this child feels like a gift, and I'm so grateful. I already love our baby so much. I love you."

"I love you, I love you," he whimpered and babbled.

Look what his love had done to her! He should never have allowed himself to be with her as a husband, never should have touched her like that. His supposed love for her was now killing her slowly from the inside out. She was too blinded by emotion towards him to even realize it. Why couldn't he control himself? He had killed her as surely as if he had put poison in her tea or wrapped his hands around her throat - only this felt worse because he had taken pleasure in the act.

He had but five months with her left - maybe even less. He read medical journals, he knew how dangerous this condition could be. She could go the way of her mother - or some complication could arise and she could go even sooner.

It wasn't fair. He was supposed to be the one to go first. What kind of a world was it where one like her was snuffed out while laboring to bring the spawn of one like him into the world? Why should she have to end so short while he continued to blight the earth?

"Christine- you could- you might-"

She shook her head, frowning a little.

"I know, Erik. I know that risks are possible. But-" she hesitated, her smile coming back despite everything. "But I still want this. With you. There's no one else I'd rather have a child with."

"You're mistaken," he said suddenly and firmly, pushing her away a little.

She looked at him, hurt, and noticed the glassy resolve in his eyes.

"I know you think it sounds lovely, but Christine- I'm sure you're not carrying a child right now. You'll see in a little bit. I'm sure."

She opened and closed her mouth, trying to gather something to say, but there was nothing.

He set her on her feet and stood up himself. There was simply no way - even though he clearly remembered a very specific way on a very specific day. But his mind would not accept that this could be happening. He could not lose her if she was not pregnant, so she simply wasn't. He couldn't bear it, otherwise.

She blinked hard, trying to take his denial in stride.

"Erik, no - really! I know-"

He patted on the shoulder in a fatherly manner.

"Why don't we take a walk today, sweet, hmm? A nice walk by the Seine and then we can eat dinner at a restaurant."

"Okay," she said, wavering on if she should push the issue.

They walked arm in arm by the river, keeping the topic on light things. Whenever she skirted close to the subject of their baby, he loudly and pointedly began talking about something else.

She might be happy now, but he knew she was going to change her mind sooner or later. And when she did - he would be the one to blame. He had been the one to ruin her career, her body. He had been the one to curse her with a child that would surely inherit not only his face but also all the worst of his flaws. And when she realized this, she would dump the baby in the underground lake, and leave him. It made his head spin to think of, so he tried his hardest not to. He had ruined her life. She just hadn't realized that fact yet.

Dinner went slightly better, a little less awkward. Christine avoided the subject that was clearly upsetting him all through the night. It wasn't until they were at home again and preparing for bed that she tried to mention it again.

"Erik," she called from inside her bathroom as she pulled off her dress. "Erik, come here a moment, love."

Pajamas in hand, he left his own bathroom and headed towards hers, curious at what she needed.

"Erik, look," her voice was enticing, but he felt a cold sensation of dread creeping over him.

He slowly moved to stand in the doorway to the bathroom, his eyes averted. There was a slight blush on his face - she was completely nude as she stood there in front of the mirror. No matter how often he'd seen her like this, it still made him feel bashful.

"Come look," she urged, and at last he acquiesced, coming to stand next to her as stood in front of the full length mirror.

He was reluctant to give any credence to her idea that she was in the family way, but he didn't have the strength to turn down any opportunity of seeing her naked.

"Look-" she turned sideways so he could see her profile. "Can you tell?"

She ran her hands over her abdomen to highlight the difference. His brow furrowed as he placed his hands on her bare shoulders and pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. He hated to admit it, but she did have a certain fullness there that she hadn't before.

"That's going to be our baby," her smile was practically glowing, her hands lightly touching the swell below her navel.

"Hmm," he rested his chin on her shoulder as he stared at her stomach in the mirror. "You look like you had too much to eat for dinner."

"Erik!" she turned and swatted at him.

He dodged her hands and began to methodically undress and then dress in his pajamas.

"Why can't you admit it?" she asked him, frustrated, as she pulled on her chemise and nightgown.

"Admit what?" he asked tightly.

She shook her head and sighed, heading to the bedroom. She expected him to follow, but he silently slipped out the door, and moments later she could hear the soft, muffled sound of him playing the organ.

He played for what felt like hours, and she was awake for all of it. Not because the sound was too loud, but because her own mind was. Was he ever going to be happy about this? If not happy that it had happened, then at least happy that she was happy? Would he deny the existence of their child right up until she was holding it in her arms? She huffed at the thought. After a while her annoyance began to fade, and it was replaced by sympathy. This surely couldn't be easy for him. She'd known he didn't want to have a child, didn't want her to have a child - especially his. She hoped there was some way they could work past that, that he wouldn't sulk about it forever.

She was still awake when Erik finally crept into bed behind her, exhausted from composing for so long. He laid down close to her and she felt a hand reach down near her knees and bundle her nightgown up towards her hips. Thinking she knew what he was after, she shifted her hips to allow him better access, but that long hand did not delve between her thighs as it had so often done in the past, but instead moved up and came to rest on the firm swell of flesh just below her navel.

His cold fingers splayed across her in such a way, he could no longer deny the reality of the situation. Underneath of his hand was what Christine hoped was going to be a child, and what he feared could only be a monster.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

The anguish and regret was audible.

She placed her own hand over top of his, intertwining her fingers through his and giving his hand a squeeze. She kept his hand where it was, over top of this thing that they had created together.

"I'm not," she whispered back with a fierce certainty.

He closed his eyes, pressing his face into her hair. She wasn't sorry yet, but he felt almost certain that she'd be changing her mind on that before long.