Disclaimer: Hmmm, I wonder what this is gonna say! I do not own any of the characters, blah blah blah.

A/N: Okay everyone, I haven't updated in a long time! I was stuck for awhile and then took a long time just getting myself to type—hey, it…was…summer and I hate doing work of any kind (even though this isn't really work but you still have to think). But the next chapter's actually almost ready, it's just being tweaked a little. The plot is getting thicker. Note about the next chapter at the end of this one!

Teacher, Husband… Killer?

The sound of water splashing into a tub greeted her when she awoke, once again in the large bed in Erik's house. Christine buried her face in the pillow, wishing for a peaceful rest and release from both worlds. She feigned sleep for the next few minutes while someone—Erik without a doubt—continued to full the bathtub. She was restless, however, tossing and turning, her body yearning to be active but her mind craving peace.

Eventually, she succumbed to the whims of her body. Her headache was gone—that was a first in her dream. Usually it was a constant, unwavering presence. With that out of the way, Christine would be able to explore this dream world.

She opened her eyes just as Erik appeared in the doorway of the lavatory. "Good morning, my dear," he said. His eyes were tired, Christine noted. "I just finished preparing your bath." He came and stood next to the bed, his long form towering over her small figure. Once she would have seen him as intimidating and backed away. Now she merely took comfort in his presence, intense and intimidating as it was. "How are you feeling now, Christine?"

"Well-rested, for once," she said, pushing herself up with the heel of her palm. "And much, much better."

"And the headache?"

"Surprisingly gone!" Christine exclaimed.

"I'm glad," he said, smiling. "I've drawn you a bath, my dear, so if you're…" The doorbell interrupted him. Christine sat up, frightened.

"Who could that be?" Christine asked. It took all of her efforts to keep her voice steady. Please, don't let it be Raoul…she thought. Christine had no idea why she thought Raoul might be there, but the fact that he had yet to show up in the dream made her nervous.

"It's probably just Nadir come for a visit," Erik replied, his eyes obviously catching the panic she had tried so hard to suppress. He sat down beside her and tilted his head towards hers. "Why don't you take your bath and perhaps, if you're feeling up to it, you might join us after for some tea."

Christine nodded, turning to face him. "All right," she whispered. His eyes mirrored her own anxiety but, she assumed, for a different reason than hers. The doorbell rang once again, startling Christine even more than the first and causing her to jump towards the middle of the bed. Erik looked towards the bedroom door with a smile peeking at the edge of his mouth.

"Yes, it must be Nadir," he assented, looking back at Christine with two more smiles flashing through his eyes. "Only he would be so impertinent as to ring my doorbell twice."

Christine felt her quivering lips turn upwards into a small smile. He leaned in then, as if to say something, even opened his mouth a bit, his eyes once again streaked with worry. But before any words could form something flashed in his eyes; what it was Christine couldn't tell. Fear? A memory? Yet Christine knew that whatever he saw it was awful and tragic. Something deep inside her heart told her this, although she knew not what it was. But her feelings were only confirmed by the way Erik sat up straight, his eyes alert and panicked. He quickly walked to the door, his hand covering the visible half of his face.

As he reached for the doorknob, Christine called out his name. When he turned, he looked at her with a sadness she had never seen in him before. It was a deeper, harsher pain than she had ever seen in anyone before. No, that wasn't true. She had seen this pain somewhere else…but where? Who? Whatever the answer, her heart knew that something was wrong. Wrong with her, with him…with them, with something else she didn't know about. She wanted to ask him what he was thinking. She wanted to ask him what plagued him and what was wrong with her. Millions of questions pulsed insider her brain but only one made its way to her mouth:

"Who is Nadir?"

Confusion must have reigned once more in that kingdom of knowledge known as Erik's mind. "You know, Nadir," he said, "my old friend, the Daroga?"

"Oh yes, Nadir," she said, putting to tongue the long-forgotten name. He was the one who led Raoul to Erik's house on that last, fateful night. Erik's brow seemed no less tense even after she recognized his friend's name. He hurried back over to her side.

"Christine, what is it? Why are you for—"

The doorbell interrupted him for a third time. Erik cursed his friend loudly and then knelt down beside Christine and looked into her eyes. "Give me five minutes," he said softly. "I will send him away. Then I'll make something to eat and we can talk."

"No," she replied, her tone matching his. "You want to see your friend and, I'm guessing by his obvious impatience, he wants to see you also. I will join you later."

"Christine, I'm worried."

Don't be worried, Erik; it's only a dream, Christine thought. "I'm fine," she said as the doorbell rang for the fourth time. "Go—before he breaks down the door!"

Christine gently lowered herself into the bathtub; closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the marble back. The water settled around her body and for a few moments she didn't even think; she concentrated solely on the gentle rippling sounds of the water. But it lasted only a few peaceful seconds as a loud bang caused the water in the tub to tremble, even before she jumped at the sound.

"I don't need your help, Nadir!" Erik's voice boomed, easily permeating the wall. Erik and Nadir had entered the Louis-Philippe Room, and Christine could hear every word of their conversation. "Erik, you must listen to reason…"

"Reason is not yours to give, Daroga! When will you learn not to interfere in my business?"

"She is sick! Stop being stubborn and take her to a doctor!"

"A doctor can't fix a broken heart." The room on the other side of the wall at once lapsed into silence. The only sound Christine could hear was the beating of her own heart—her broken heart. It was her they were talking about, wasn't it? But why, she questioned, would her heart be broken? Was it Raoul? No, it couldn't be…Erik said he didn't know of Raoul. And he wouldn't lie to her.

Finally, the silence was broken. "Erik," Nadir said, "I know you're in pain, but think of Christine! It's been over three months and, don't deny it, Erik, you know she's not getting any better."

After another few tense seconds, Erik replied, softly at first, but with growing alacrity and fury, "No, I won't deny it. Not only is she not getting any better, she's getting worse. Each day I watch her slip farther away from me, towards some place I don't know about. But I know that if she ever arrives there, I'll never reach her. I am a great magician, Nadir, but I can't bring back lost things—I never have been able to! And the worst part is—I did this to her! I am the reason she is flowing swiftly down that river to—" By now Erik was screaming. His voice flooded the bathroom where Christine sat huddled in the bathtub, a river of tears joining the already present lake around her. She was dying. It was just a dream, but nevertheless, she was dying. The dream would end then. It was pleasant here; Christine took great comfort in the fact that, whenever she felt lonely or upset, she could close her eyes and Erik would appear. Soon, he wouldn't. But what did Erik mean when he said it was his fault? she thought. What did he do? Christine turned her attentions once again to the Louis-Philippe Room, but both their voices had dropped and she had to strain to hear their conversation.

Nadir was speaking. "It is not your fault. It is no more your fault than it is hers. It's no one's fault. Come," he continued, "let us go into the kitchen and prepare the tea you promised your wife. I daresay she will be joining us." Christine sat up at the reference to her. They would be expecting her soon; she must hurry.

A few minutes later she sat in a simple blue housedress at her vanity table, brushing through her wet hair. Actually, she was not as interested in her hair as she was in collecting her nerves and trying to push the conversation she had just heard out of her mind. The questions that were plaguing her—too many to name—had to be stored and not dwelled upon until she woke up. There would be plenty of time then. Her time with Erik, however, was limited, and there were still so many things she had to talk to him about. But she must remember not to ask him things that his wife would obviously know; it only seemed to worry him more. Who is Nadir? Ha! It's a good thing he didn't have her committed to a mad house right then and there!

With her hair pulled back in a cluster of damp ringlets, Christine, for the first time in three years, left her bedroom and entered Erik's kitchen.

"Hello, dear," Erik said with a large smile on his face. He's pretending everything's fine. Christine thought; he must have been hiding this all along. Well, his eyes betray him. And indeed they did. His eyes were still full of that tragic pain she had noted earlier in the bedroom. There they were, looking into hers with such a deep sadness that she had to turn her head, lest she begin to cry. Erik stood up as she returned his greeting and pulled out a chair for her, she murmured a "bonjour" to Nadir and sat down, staring at her hands in her lap.

"How are you feeling, Christine?" Nadir asked.

"Good. Very good," she stressed. "Much better than yesterday."

"I'm glad. Very glad," Nadir said. At first Christine thought he was mocking her, but discarded the idea when she saw the playful way he smiled at her. Erik's wife and he must be very friendly together, she thought.

For the next two hours, the three conversed intimately with each other. Not so intimately as to bring up Christine's health or Erik's blame in the matter, but on everything else they shared together: from the Opera to the people they knew. Christine was glad that she had paid special attention to the events at the Opera these past three years—it certainly helped! She knew all about the new management and their (what some would call) unorthodox views. And although she did not know what Carlotta was doing now, it was interesting to learn that the diva had apparently tried to start a new career in England, but could not find an opera house willing to take her! So she had finally returned to her native Spain, receiving a celebrated welcome. Erik and Nadir even recalled some of their happier times in Persia together, which delighted Christine, who had never known much of that particular part of the past. But the first time she yawned, two hours after she had sat down, Erik immediately bid Nadir say his farewells and sent Christine off to bed. She waited for Erik to come in to talk, as she was sure he must; Raoul always did. But the moment she saw the pillow she could not resist lying down; the moment she lay down she could not help but close her eyes and the moment she did that… she woke up.

A/N: Like it? Just a little? Please? Review puh-lease if you did! About the next chapter, it's gonna take place entirely in the presence of Raoul. I know. I was anxious while writing it to get to Erik too but I do introduce a character completely from my own imagination. Her name's Marguerite and she's Christine's friend (don't worry, I'm not going to "make" her come between Raoul and Christine; she's married). So why am I telling you this now? Well, Marguerite holds a major piece of the puzzle. In the next chapter there will be a big clue as to what's actually going on with Christine. Just telling you now to watch for it. The web of my story will be getting bigger and, although everything is revealed in the end, take notice of the clues in the next chapter! Heh heh. I love the power I have sometimes. Singing: "I know something you don't knoooowww!" Just kidding! Thanks for reading and…reviewing.