Disclaimer: I do not own Christine, Erik, Raoul, Nadir, or anyone from the original novel, the musical or Phantom. We all know who those characters belong to. I do, however, own Marguerite and Frederick Lenfent (although I borrowed the last name from Anne Rice, so, yeah, that belongs to her). If anyone read my story Mademoiselle Daae is Dead, that story is actually the Phantomized version of a short story I wrote for my Creative Writing class, Mademoiselle Lenfent is Dead. That story is accountable for the birth of Marguerite and Frederick. They're my babies and I couldn't NOT put them in this story! They fall in pretty nicely, I think. Their story has been condensed greatly but if anyone would like to read their story just email me and I'll send it along.

A/N: Wow, the time periods between updates keep getting longer and longer, huh? Well, I hope you all enjoy the fifth chapter!

Counterpoint

Sugar trotted peacefully along the well-worn path. He needed no direction from Christine; he had been down this road many times before and was well aware of which turns to take. Besides, even if he forgot the way, he could always just follow Belle, who was being guided by Raoul. But the way to the Lenfents was relatively easy and Sugar was a very smart horse.

Above him sat Christine, looking very confused. The previous night's dream was replaying in her brain, with images as concrete as memories. Yet the harder she thought about it the less she understood. She did not know what was happening to her—well, her in the dream—and what Erik had to do with her sickness. Didn't he say it was all his fault? He said she had a broken heart, but Christine didn't think that made much sense at all. How could heartache make a person physically sick? And even if it could, what had Erik, her husband, done to make her so emotionally and physically sick?

Well, whatever had happened, the truth would never be revealed to her while she was awake, Christine knew that. She must wait until she went to sleep again that night and, hopefully, she would understand everything. But until then, she would enjoy this visit with Marguerite and not think about the dream at all.

Marguerite Lenfent and her husband, Frederick, were very close friends to the de Chagnys. They had befriended the couple when Raoul and Christine first moved to the village nearly three years ago. The two women at once formed an unbreakable bond and loved each other dearly. Their husbands, too, became close friends and each Saturday the two couples would spend the entire day together. The would all have lunch together and afterwards Raoul and Frederick would retreat into the study for brandy and Marguerite and Christine would talk in the parlor.

Marguerite and Frederick's marriage had been considered a scandal, just like Christine and Raoul's. A few years earlier, Marguerite was a beautiful heiress living in the heart of Paris and engaged to the wealthy and noble Nicolas Bouden. However, she fell in love with Frederick Lenfent, a poor orphan living in a small shack and providing for four other orphans. After a year of tug-of-war between the two men, Marguerite decided to follow her heart and marry Frederick. The two, after finding the other four orphans jobs and new situations, left Paris for the countryside. By that time Frederick had sold his first manuscript and had a steady income coming from his publisher. He continued to write after they left Paris and has had several essays and another novel published.

Christine was pulled from her reverie—literally—as Raoul lifted her off of Sugar. As soon as her feet were on the ground, Marguerite burst out of the front door and threw her arms around her friend's neck. "Christine," she cried, "how are you? Has it only been a week? Raoul told Fred that you were sick and—are you feeling better? Come, let's get you inside. Good afternoon, Raoul," she said, noticing him for the first time.

Their lunch was pleasant as it always was. They had a wonder meal of filet mignon (much better than fish) and delightful conversation with it. Frederick announced that he was to go to Paris on Monday to speak with his publisher and invited Raoul to come along. Yet he declined because he had to work this week, which Christine dutifully reminded him. Raoul reported on the return of Monsieur Latrec, the village doctor and another of Raoul's friends who had been away on a business venture in Rouen. Afterwards the men retreated into the study and the ladies went into the parlor.

The Lenfents' house was much nicer than Christine and Raoul's. Frederick's latest novel had been highly acclaimed (as his essays always were) and thus they had a large amount of extra money. Marguerite had a wonderful taste in fine things and Frederick knew where to go for the least expensive items. Together they found a happy medium and redecorated most of the house. They also helped the de Chagnys pick out furniture for their living room, although they didn't have nearly the same size budget.

Christine and Marguerite took their usual seats on the sofa and, once they were sitting, Marguerite took her companion's hand. "Tell me, my dear Christine," she said, "now that the men aren't here. How are you? Truly."

Christine forced a smile. "I am fine. Do not worry about me. I've just had headaches and…" She stalled, pondering whether or not to tell Marguerite about the dream. She trusted her friend, more than anyone else, even more than Raoul, but the dream felt…sacred. Like what she saw when she closed her eyes at night was only for her and Erik to know.

"Raoul says you have been sleeping quite a lot recently," Marguerite said. "Perhaps you are pregnant."

"No!" Christine exclaimed. "I am not pregnant! Trust me, Marguerite!"

"It's all right, Christine. I am fine," she replied, but with a betraying quiver of her lower lip.

"No," Christine repeated, this time softly. "Believe me," she continued, with a little laugh and nod of the head, "I am not pregnant."

"Oh," Marguerite said, understanding. "But you would tell me… if you were?"

"Of course!" she paused. "Marguerite, dear Marguerite… how are you?"

The young woman twirled a strand of hair that had fallen out of her bun and placed it behind her ear. "I am…well," she said, lifting her head to meet Christine's eyes. "It has been a difficult time, true, but… oh, Christine, he's been so good to me! I was inconsolable and he comforted me. I felt diseased and ugly and he made me feel beautiful. He lets me cry on his shoulder whenever I need to—which I'll admit, has been quite a lot recently. He is my stronghold and—oh, Christine, you will never believe what he said. We were at dinner last week and I looked at him and said, 'If I am unable to have children, I will understand if you want to leave me.' He simply smiled at me and said, 'Children would be a blessing, Marguerite. But you are my miracle. If I ever left you my heart would collapse.'" Marguerite smiled, tears cascading down her cheeks. "He is such a writer, my husband, isn't he? What would I ever do without him?"

Christine felt tears in her own eyes. She wondered what Raoul's reaction would be if she were ever to have a miscarriage. "You are a very lucky woman."

"We," she replied, "we are very lucky women. Come," she continued, moving to sit in front of the piano. "Let us sing something. I am in the mood to sing."

"Oh, no, Marguerite, I mustn't," Christine quickly responded.

"Oh, come now, I am sure Raoul wouldn't mind this once!"

"No, it isn't that…" Christine drifted off again, lost in her own thoughts. She could not sing without thinking of Erik, and thinking of Erik meant thinking of the dream and his fate and… She just wasn't prepared to do all this thinking both with her friend before her and Raoul in the next room.

But in her hesitation she had been caught. Marguerite knew something was wrong and she was not the kind of woman to keep from prying. "Christine," she said, slowly. "What is it? You can tell me."

Christine sighed. "It's Erik. I've been dreaming of him."

Marguerite's lips curled into a devious little smile. She knew all about Christine's past and everything about Erik. "Really?"

"Marguerite!" Christine laughed. "It's been an odd experience, I can tell you that. In my dream…" she paused, leaned in closer to her friend and began to whisper, even though no one could possible hear them either way. "In my dream, we're married, Erik and I. And there is no Raoul! Everything that really happened never happened—Erik had never heard of Raoul before!"

"You mean, no Angel of Music?"

"Well, I don't know, but there was no Raoul! No nemesis, no competition… Unless I had a different fiancée, but I don't know about that… And, oh, I am very sick. I keep fainting, or something… and Erik blames himself."

"He told you this?"

"No he told Nadir."

"Who's Nadir?"

"The Persian gentleman who took Raoul down to find me."

"Oh. So, how do you know that Erik blames himself?"

"I was eavesdropping."

"Oh." The two were silent for a moment, each trying to organize their thoughts.

"That sounds ridiculous, doesn't it?" Christine asked.

"Just a bit," Marguerite replied, as they both began to laugh.

"I always pictured what my life would be like if I acted differently, but I never imagined…" Christine sighed, and leaned her head against he friend's shoulder. "I loved them both, Marguerite. Does that make me horrible?"

"No, dear," she said, stroking Christine's hair. "It makes you human. You loved the comfort in Raoul and the mystery and uniqueness of Erik. I don't know what I would do in that situation."

"But you chose your Erik."

Marguerite smiled. "It is not right to compare Frederick to Erik and Nicolas to Raoul. True, Frederick was different, but he did not wear a mask, did not live beneath an Opera House and never harmed anyone in his life! Nicolas was nothing like Raoul; he was abusive and only wanted me for my dowry. There was never any doubt in my mind who I wanted to marry. Christine," she continued, after a pause, "did you ever think that you chose your Frederick?"

"No," she replied. "I guess I never have. But, as you said, you never doubted your choice. Three years later, I am still filled with doubt, a doubt that has never left my side since I left Erik!"

"Then learn as much as you can from this dream of yours, Christine. When it all ends, one way or the other, you will no longer have doubt."

Like it? Hate it? Do you like Marguerite and Frederick. (Frederick, but the way, is in fond remembrance of another literary Frederick—has anyone read Philip Pullman's The Sally Lockhart Trilogy? If you have, siiiigh. That Fred is like my ideal man! Honestly, he's just so wonderful! Everyone go out and read those books—just the first two actually. DON'T read the third! I guarantee you'll love him too!) Well, sorry it took so long! Please review and—as soon as I'm finished with my college apps—the next chapter will be up!