A/N: Thank you so much to my reviewers… You guys are so fantastic, I'm so glad everyone felt so positively about that last chapter. Made me very happy :)

Riene: Your words always mean a lot to me. And I managed not to fuss over this chapter, lol :P

Jstarz927: Actually…the chapter's beginning to grow on me thanks to all these reviews, lol. :)

Midasgirl: Thank you so much for your review. It's such a thrill for me that you have such kind words in regards to this story. I really appreciate them. :)

Christina: Thank for your note! That was very kind of you :)

To the most awesome people ever, thank you very much: The Phantom Parisienne, Mel, Fantome, Jennifer, Badly Drawn Girl, mystic darkness, and musicallover6

All right, announcement… This chapter is for the most part completely pointless. There's a lot of Meg, so if you're a fan of her, hopefully you'll be pleased. So yes, after the intense E/Cness of last chapter…this one is lacking. But, the next chapter will be exciting, so sit tight. So yes, here is the next, sort of pointless, sort of random chapter. Enjoy :)

Meg stood just outside the opera in her dancer's garb and ballet shoes. She glanced inside nervously, then looked ahead of her again. Her eyes swept over the crowds of people and carriages bustling past. The sun was climbing steadily and Meg knew she had to get to rehearsal soon. There was not a performance that night, but that did not mean the corps had the day off…

At last Meg saw the person whom she sought. She raised her hand and waved, to make sure he would see her. Meg watched him smile and push his way past a group of people heading down the street. At last he reached her and she couldn't help but smile as well.

"I'm glad you could get here," she said.

"Well somehow, this found it's way to my front door," he said, holding up a piece of paper; a note Meg had written to him.

"I can't talk for very long," Meg said. "But I had to see you."

The young man frowned. "Are you all right, Meg?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine… And I'm sorry we have to meet like this, but I had to speak with you." She took his hands in her hers. "I feel terrible, Vincent. I haven't seen you for so long," her voice trailed off and she looked down at the ground. She couldn't meet his eyes…those soft brown eyes that radiated such comfort and warmth…

Vincent lifted her chin with his fingers, forcing her to look at him. "You don't believe that I'm angry, do you?" he asked.

"No…I know you're not angry…" Meg paused and the corners of her mouth rose slightly. "Although…sometimes I wish you would be. How can you be so patient with me?"

"Because I care for you, dove," he said softly.

Meg gave in and smiled. "We will see each other more often, I promise," Meg stated with new determination.

Vincent brought his fingers up and gently brushed her cheek. "Tomorrow…" he murmured.

"Tomorrow," Meg agreed softly. "You will come for the performance?"

"Of course," he conceded and bent to plant a kiss on her forehead.

"Meg?"

Meg turned her head abruptly and looked in the door. Clementina was just inside poking her head around the corner a little way off from the door. Meg stuck her head inside and called to her.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Oh there you are," Clementina said. "Your mother has been looking for you and rehearsal is going to start in just a few minutes."

Meg nodded. "I'll just be a minute."

Meg turned back to Vincent anxiously. "I must go."

He nodded. "I know…"

"Please don't look at me like that…" Meg said sadly. "I will see you tomorrow." She touched his cheek briefly and gazed into his eyes before turning and disappearing through the door.

Vincent stared after her for a moment. "Tomorrow…"

Christine stood facing her door, her fingers resting on the doorknob, willing herself to leave her room. She had risen early that morning, despite the fact that she had had such trouble falling asleep. She wasn't sure how long it was that she had stared up at the ceiling. Christine had realized something… She had realized that her thoughts…her emotions…had done nothing but contradict each other since the moment she had first heard Erik's voice… She knew that she loved Erik. She would not have told him so if she had not been absolutely certain and committed to that decision. Christine knew that she could never forget Raoul… Never stop loving him. She was afraid what Erik thought. She did know of widows who remarried… Surely they did not forget the people they used to love… And she had not even been married, so really there was nothing to be concerned about…

For a long time she felt terrible. She couldn't bear to think of the reaction Raoul would show if he heard her tell Erik she loved him… And Erik… He knew that she still thought about Raoul, he wasn't blind and she had told him so. But it must hurt him. And she couldn't bear to hurt him any longer.

But the terrible feeling she had melted away with her thoughts of Erik. He was so good to her… He loved her so very much, cared for her, was willing to do anything she asked. She did love him so very much. She felt it, every time she looked at him, every time he entered the room. The flutter in her stomach, the intense ache in her chest, the warmth that spread through her veins when she touched him, the tears that could be caused by the simple sight of him… Raoul was gone and Erik was hers…

These thoughts came tumbling back as Christine stood before her door that morning. She had to go out there and have a real conversation, try to act normally. The day before was a blur. They had been together. They had read…just sat…he may have played the violin. She was with him and that had been all she had thought about. It was different being with him yesterday…better. She had been happy. But now she didn't know what to expect, exactly.  At last, taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and entered the sitting room. It was empty…

Her heart sunk as she imagined that Erik could not bear to face her with the raw emotion of the day before gone and civility returning… But she smiled softly when she heard the faint melody of the grand piano in the library drifting into the room.

She went to the door and listened. Christine was happy to hear him playing. It felt to her like a good sign…

Knocking quietly on the door, she slipped inside the library and sat down in a chair near the piano. Erik didn't look at her, but continued playing, ending the piece a minute or so later.

"Good morning," he said softly, not looking at her and not removing his fingers from the keys. "Did you sleep well?"

Christine nearly laughed. "Hardly…"

Erik smiled softly. He was still not willing to look at her. If truth were told…he was almost frightened…almost… He didn't know what Christine wanted of him. She had said she loved him… And if that were true, the way he had always dreamed it would be true…then what? He had never prepared for this moment… Never thought about the possibility… Erik had had the sense to know she would never love him the way he loved her… But perhaps she would prove him wrong after all… Or perhaps she would betray him again. Although that seemed nearly a foreign possibility after the time they had shared together.

Christine stared at him and could read his thoughts. His unspoken questions and uncertainties seemed to hang thick in the air. She stared at him for a moment, knowing that she had to say something… She stood up and went to him, seating herself beside him on the piano bench. After a moment's hesitation, she leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Can I tell you something?" she asked.

"Of course," Erik said softly.

"Someday Erik, "she said, with all the sincerity she could muster. "I would be pleased to be your wife."

Erik turned his head and stared at her, for minutes he was uncomprehending of her statement. "Someday…" he repeated, dumbly.

Christine lifted her head and looked into his eyes. "Someday, Erik. If you would ask me someday… I would accept."

Erik stared at her. He suddenly felt quite dizzy; it was happening too fast, his emotions could hardly keep up. He felt his throat tighten painfully and looked away from her quickly.

"I could ask for nothing more."

"Someday Erik," Christine said, linking her arm with his. "We will be very happy, no matter what."

"Someday…" he repeated, his mind and other senses feeling rather numb.

Christine suddenly exhaled sharply and stood up.

Erik frowned at her, concerned. "Christine?"

She stood with her back to him her arms crossed. "What am I saying? I can't honestly think that you would wish me to be your wife…"

Erik's brow creased and he stood and went to her, turning her around to face him. He searched her face.

"Erik, I can't expect you to care for a child that is not yours… I don't expect that… I don't want that," she finished firmly.

This was truly the moment that, under different circumstances, the two of them could have finally had some peace, some happiness…together. But a child that had not even been born yet was tearing them apart. A child that wasn't planned…wasn't wanted.

Christine closed her eyes, desperately fighting the urge to collapse into Erik's arms yet again. She felt his hand on her shoulder and opened her eyes. She forced a slight smile and carefully lifted his hand away, knowing better then to jerk away from his touch.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I…have to…I'm going out," she said at last.

Erik frowned, "Where?"

"Just for a walk. I won't be gone long…"

Erik paused for a moment and decided to express his concern. "I don't want you to run out of here while you're upset, Christine."

"I'm fine, really," she responded, already backing out of the room. "I just…I need to get out, Erik. I'll return shortly."

And she turned and nearly ran from the room. Erik watched her go, sinking down onto the hard, wooden piano bench. He sighed… He hated himself. He was supposed to be a genius with a solution to everything, and now he had no answer to one of the biggest problems he'd ever had to face. To have her as his wife… He truly began to wonder if they were really meant to be together at all… There was always something pulling them apart.

Christine nearly ran from the library and into her room to once again attempt to fit her feet into a pair of shoes. But to her surprise, there were two pairs of new shoes in her wardrobe that Erik had obviously purchased for her during the night. She nearly cried when she saw them… He cared about her so…

Christine emerged from the Opera through the Rue Scribe entrance to the basements, blinking in the sunlight. It was hotter than she had expected it to be, so hot it sent a chill through her and she shivered. She was just then very grateful for her home in the fifth cellar that the heat of the summer could not reach.

She stood still for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the bright sun, then began walking. There was a park she often went to with Meg, or sometimes by herself, that was lovely at this time of year. The trees so green, and flowers in full bloom… She made her way swiftly, looking downwards. She felt as if she would burst into tears any moment and did not need to advertise that fact to every person she passed.

She reached the park in a short amount of time; she hadn't realized how quickly she had been walking. A tall iron gate stood at the front and she walked through its open doors. There were many people strolling along the paths and children playing. Christine hurried past them all.

At last she reached a tall oak tree that stood far from the entrance and many yards away from the path. It was the most secluded spot she could find. Collapsing under the tree in a rather unladylike manner, she drew her knees up to her chin and buried her face.

But as she did this, she found that she could not cry. No tears would come, even though she felt so terrible she felt as if she could die right then and there. It wasn't fair… Why did this happen to her? There were thousands of people in the world, after all. How was it that so many terrible things could befall her in particular? It was so unfair…

For what seemed an eternity, but was really only a matter of minutes, Christine stared into her skirt, her eyes dry. She wanted to cry, but just couldn't.

"Are you all right, there?" a voice asked.

Christine looked up, startled at being disturbed. Standing over her was a girl about her age, a little younger perhaps. She was tall with very long, very straight blonde hair and startlingly blue eyes. Looking at her, Christine became aware of how terribly pale her own skin was…

Christine realized she was staring. She nodded and answered, "Yes, I'm fine."

The girl seemed to accept this. "Do you mind if I sit down?" she asked, pointing to the patch of grass beside her.

"No, not at all…" Christine said. Although she had come here to be alone…perhaps some company would be nice…

The girl sat down and smiled at Christine. "Sorry, to come up to you so suddenly. But I was sitting just over there," she said, pointing to a bench several yards away, "and I couldn't help but notice you. It was perfect," the girl finished with a happy sigh.

"Perfect?" Christine questioned.

"Yes," the girl said. "Absolutely perfect, look here." And she held up a sketchpad and showed Christine her drawing. It was a rough sketch of Christine under the tree with her face buried in her skirts. "It's so wonderful," the girl sighed. "The perfect mix of joy and tragedy. I couldn't help but draw it… You surrounded by the flowers and sunshine."

The girl smiled as if it was the most exciting thing that had happened to her all day. However, Christine failed to see why this was such a wonderful thing.

When Christine didn't answer, the girl continued. "But I realized I should probably come over here and see why you were looking so beautifully tragic…" She paused. "Oh, I'm sorry, how rude of me. My name is Annette."

"I'm Christine."

Annette smiled. "Well it's a pleasure to meet you, Christine. Forgive me, you must think me odd, just coming up to you like this."

Christine smiled; she did think that Annette was a little odd… She certainly liked to talk. But she wasn't an unlikable person, quite the contrary in fact.

"Now that we have met properly, I simply must ask. Why are you looking so tragically saddened?" Annette asked, an edge of excitement in her voice.

"I believe," Christine said lightly, "that you have quite the obsession with tragedy."

Annette laughed outright. "You've guessed right Mademoiselle Christine. But you never know when you might find a real life fairy tale right under your nose. And you, dear, look like you're in one, and at a particularly tragic part of the story I might add."

Christine stared at the girl for a moment. She was a complete stranger, but seemed determined to find out why Christine was so…"tragic"… She certainly enjoyed that word a great deal.

"Actually," Christine said wearily, "I am at a rather tragic part of the story."

Annette grinned and turned herself so she was facing Christine. "Well?"

Christine responded flatly, "I cannot be with the man I love."

"Oh I knew it!" Annette squealed. "I knew this was going to be a terribly romantic story!"

Christine raised an eyebrow, "And what makes you think I'm going to tell it?"

Annette bit her lip. "I'm sorry… I'm terribly forward I know…"

"But…" Christine said. "Because you seem so set on hearing it, I will tell you. A story of two people who love each other very deeply, but can never find happiness."

And Christine continued her story. She left out all details, all names, places…just stated a general summary… But her acting skills were marvelous. With her voice she wound a…tragically…romantic tale, with a handsome young prince, a beautiful young woman, and a dark angel. She told of how the beautiful woman and handsome prince ran off together, how the woman was stolen away and the prince slain in battle, how the dark angel had rescued the woman… Christine was greatly amused by the fact that she captivated Annette so thoroughly. She was also slightly amused that the story of her and Erik sounded so right when stated in such a dramatic, theatrical way.

"And so…" she finished. "It would seem they are destined to always be apart. Constantly reaching out for the happiness that is always just out of reach. They are destined to be forever shrouded by darkness."

Annette stared at Christine and asked breathlessly, "But what happens in the end?"

Christine leaned back against the trunk of the tree she sat beneath. "I do wish I knew…"

"I'll bet it ends happily!" the girl exclaimed. "It simply must! The story would make such an excellent novel, and those kinds of romantic novels always have a happy ending."

Christine smiled, "I hope you are right."

Annette and Christine talked for quite awhile at the base of that tall oak tree. Annette showed Christine her drawings, which were really quite magnificent. She told her how much she loved romance and tragedy. She spoke of her love of Shakespeare and her wish that her life could be a fairy tale as well. Christine had listened to all she had to say, rather fascinated with the girl. She had never met anyone like Annette before. So bold, so artistic… She really did have a flair for drama. And she was absolutely thrilled when she discovered that Christine had once sung on the stage of the Paris Opera.

At one point they had traveled to a café for lunch, but had returned to their spot under the oak tree. It was so pleasant there. There was now shade cast by the tree and a slight breeze had blown up during the conversation, making the day much more pleasant.

At a pause in the conversation, Christine looked up at the sun and realized with a start that she had been with Annette for several hours.

"I'm sorry, Annette but I really must go," she said, standing and brushing off the back of her skirt.

Annette stood as well. "Yes, I know. You must be getting back to your dark angel," she said with a smile.

"It has been so lovely meeting you," Christine said earnestly. "Perhaps I will see you again someday."

"Yes, I would like that… Where can I find you?" she requested.

Christine paused. "The Opera Garnier… If you find a Madame or Meg Giry they will help you find me."

Annette raised an eyebrow at this, but said nothing, her face portrayed amusement. "Goodbye, Christine."

"Yes, goodbye." Christine turned to go, but Annette stopped her suddenly.

"Oh wait! When is your child due to be born?" she asked with honest curiosity.

The smile on Christine lips faded quickly. "November," she said quietly.

Annette smiled, not noticing Christine's change in demeanor. "All right, I was just wondering… I will see you again!" she said, and left Christine to take the path out of the park.

Christine stood very still for a moment. She had had such a lovely time with Annette and wished desperately that the matter of her pregnancy had not come up at all… She sighed, and turned to make her way back to the Opera.

Christine entered the house on the lake tentatively. She had not meant to be gone for so long and she didn't know if Erik would be worried… He did not meet her in the foyer so she proceeded to the sitting room and saw that the door to his study was shut, telling her that he had locked himself inside.

She went to the divan and collapsed onto it. She pulled off her shoes and laid down, sighing contentedly and sinking into the soft cushions. She found suddenly that she was very tired… Her last thought before she fell asleep was that so much sun must have made her sleepy.

Erik emerged from his study to find Christine asleep on the divan. As he entered the room however, her eyes fluttered open and she rubbed her eyes. She saw him standing in front of his study looking at her and moved to sit up. But as she did a sharp pain shot through her temple. She gasped at the sudden pain and pressed her hand to her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut. Erik was at her side in an instant.

He sat down on the divan beside her and grabbed her hand. "Christine! Christine what is it?"

But she couldn't seem to speak. She opened her eyes to look at him and the room spun. She grabbed his arm in an attempt to anchor herself. She closed her eyes against the whirling and gripped Erik's arm tighter.

Erik grasped her hand and gently lowered her back down to the divan. "Christine, can you hear me? Speak to me, Christine," he said urgently.

She registered his words and opened her mouth to speak. "My head…" she whispered.

He squeezed Christine's hand tightly. "I'll be right back."

Erik went quickly into his room, where he retrieved a small bottle of liquid that would hopefully ease her headache. He went back to her and carefully lifted her up with one hand on her back.

"I need you to drink this, Christine."

Opening her eyes slightly, she saw the bottle he raised to her lips and drank it down as he had instructed. He eased her back down and said, "You're going to be all right, Christine."

Erik didn't know what to do. Christine had these sudden attacks… Headache, dizziness… He couldn't understand it, he had no idea what would cause such a thing to happen to her and it frustrated him to no end.

He had sat with Christine for a long while, wiping her forehead with a cool cloth and squeezing her hand. The potion he had given her seemed to ease her pain, but apparently had not completely diminished it. She had fallen asleep at last and Erik had then carried her into her bedroom so that she might sleep more comfortably. He remained close by the entire day and well into the night, just in case she awakened and called out for him.

Late that night, Erik sat dozing slightly in his chair, when he heard her voice call his name. He was at her side almost instantaneously, not remembering traveling there at all.

She squinted up at him and rubbed her head. "Erik…"

He took her hand. "I'm here Christine… Would you like anything?"

"Water…" she said softly.

Erik nodded and left the room. Christine struggled and managed to pull herself into a sitting position. She rubbed her head, which housed a dull ache and sighed. She had had another of those terrible headaches… She couldn't understand why they occurred. And she felt awful, knowing they worried Erik so.

He returned a moment later with a glass of water, which she drank gratefully.

"You should eat something," Erik said.

And it was true, she had not eaten since early afternoon and she was starving. She nodded and he forced a slight smile. "I shall return soon. Lie down, you should rest some more."

She sighed and fell back onto her pillows, willing the pain in her head to leave her and not return.

Meg smiled happily as she watched the curtain fall on the final act from the wings. The performance was over and she was going to be with Vincent again very soon. She hurried away and into the corridor so she could get back to her dressing room and change out of her costume. She was stopped, however, by her mother.

"Meg," Madame Giry said. "Christine wishes to speak to you."

Meg stared at her mother for a moment. "Tonight?" she asked blankly.

"Yes, tonight, Meg," Madame Giry said impatiently. "You're to meet her down below…"

The young dancer stared at Madame Giry incredulously. "What?"

"She's ill, Meg. She cannot climb the stairs. The passage in the foyer on the second floor…she will meet you at the bottom. You will not see him, you have nothing to fear," she added.

Meg stared at her… No, she couldn't see Christine tonight! "Tonight?" she repeated.

Madame Giry lost her patience. "Yes, Meg tonight. As soon as you can make it. She will be waiting."

Meg watched her mother go, her heart sinking to the floor. Why tonight? She stared helplessly down the hall for a moment. She knew she had to go to Christine… It must be something important… But she had been separated from Vincent for so very long that she could hardly stand it.

And as if she had summoned him with her thoughts, Vincent appeared in the corridor ahead of her with a small bouquet of pink roses and a smile on his face.

"Dove, you were wonderful," he said as he reached her and handed her the flowers with a slight bow.

She forced a smile onto her face. "They're beautiful Vincent, thank you."

He smiled, pleased that she liked them. "I will let you get dressed and then we will be off."

Meg looked up from her flowers. "I can't go Vincent…" she said quietly.

Vincent's smile faded immediately and the look of sadness on his face made her want to cry. He stared at her. "Christine?" he inquired softly.

Meg nodded slowly, then took a deep breath "I'll go and tell her I can't see her tonight!" she said, slight desperation in her voice. "I'll tell her and be right back here with you!"

The young man's expression did not change. "No, Meg, you won't be…"

And with that he turned around and walked away, dejected.

"Vincent, wait!" Meg called after him desperately.

But he did not stop. Meg stared after him until he rounded a corner and disappeared, tears burning in her eyes. She could never hate Christine, but this was the closest she had ever come…

Throwing down the roses, she turned and swiftly made her way to meet Christine, not bothering to change out of her costume first. She made her way down the many stairs rapidly, her throat burning painfully and tears in her eyes.

Christine was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, as Madame Giry had said she would be. She smiled as Meg came into view.

"I'm sorry you had to come down here," Christine said lightly, her voice raised to reach Meg coming down the last of the stone steps. "I've been forbidden to climb the stairs."

"Are you all right?" Meg asked stiffly, reaching the bottom. "Mother said you were ill."

"I'll be fine," Christine said. "But I have so much I must tell you…"

She stopped though and looked carefully at Meg's features, lit by the two lanterns they had each carried. She was startled to see tears rolling down her friend's cheeks.

"Meg?" she asked, her brow creasing. "Is everything all right?"

Meg clenched her teeth together willing herself to stop crying. She gave up and said to Christine through clenched teeth. "No, Christine, it isn't."

Christine's mouth opened slightly. She had never heard Meg use such a tone before and she was taken aback by it.

"What is it?" Christine asked, genuinely concerned.

Before she knew what was happening, Meg had collapsed into her arms sobbing. Christine's eyes widened in shock as she caught her friend in her arms. It frightened her. She had never seen Meg cry like this…never. It scared her more than anything.

"My God, Meg. What happened? What's wrong?" Christine asked frantically.

But Meg said nothing, just held onto Christine. She found it odd that she was sobbing in Christine's arms, when a few moments ago she had been angry with her. She was the reason for her tears… But how could she tell her that? Christine hadn't known… Couldn't have known… Because Meg had never told her about Vincent. It wasn't that she had wanted to keep him a secret. It was just that, Christine's life and Christine's problems were always what were important. She had enough to think and worry about. She didn't need to worry about her young friend seeing a man…

Meg's anger melted away as she cried. She cried because she was acting selfishly and putting her needs before Christine's. She cried because Vincent may have gone for good…

Christine held her friend, helplessly. She didn't know what to do. She had never seen Meg like this… "Meg please…" Christine pleaded. "What happened?"

After several minutes and many deep breaths. Meg regained her composure. She straightened abruptly, wiping the tears from her cheeks, aware that her stage makeup must have run down her face while she was crying.

"Forgive me, Christine…" she said softly.

She was embarrassed. Christine had never seen her cry in such a manner and she had not really wanted her to either. She looked up and saw fear and concern in Christine's eyes. Meg blushed and looked away. She couldn't bear that she had behaved in such a way.

"Meg, what happened?" Christine repeated again, more gently this time.

Meg shook her head rapidly and continued to rub her eyes. "Nothing happened. I'm sorry Christine… It's nothing."

Christine narrowed her eyes and looked at her with confusion. "Nothing to make you cry like that?"

Meg turned away and bit her lip. Christine stared at her in disbelief.

"You're honestly not going to tell me?"

Feeling incredible guilt at Christine's hurt tone, Meg turned around. She sighed. "Christine, it would be selfish of me to talk about anything bothering me…" Her voice rose slightly. "How can anything that happens to me compare to what you're going through Christine? It doesn't! So it doesn't matter if I'm upset…"

Meg crossed her arms then and stared at the floor.

Christine stared at her, her mouth open slightly. "Meg…how can you say that? Of course it matters…"

She looked to Meg who refused to look at her. "You're shivering," she said.

Meg shrugged and didn't look up. "It's fine. I know you can't make it up the stairs."

Christine stared at her friend, standing in her ballet costume, shaking in the cold, her face streaked with tears… She bit her lip and looked up the stairs. It wasn't that far really… She glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the house on the lake. Erik would be upset, but…she was worried about Meg now. She couldn't ask her to stand in the dark and cold when she was feeling like this.

Making the decision quickly before she changed her mind. "Come on, let's go upstairs," she said, taking Meg's hand.

Meg shook her head. "Christine, if you're ill…"

"No, I'm fine. Truly. Come on," she said reassuringly.

After a moment's hesitation, Meg allowed Christine to lead her back up the stairs. Their journey went in silence and once out into the second floor foyer they continued to Meg's dressing room, ignoring any and all eyes that watched their progress.

As soon as they were inside, Christine collapsed onto the divan, tired and slightly dizzy.

Meg looked at her with concern, "Are you all right? You shouldn't have come up here…"

"I'm fine. Come here, Meg. Sit down with me," she said, gesturing to the seat beside her.

Meg paused, but did as she was told and sat down. She immediately fixed her eyes on her feet.

"Now…" Christine said softly, seriously. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

A/N: Please review! :)

And I promise E/C in the next chapter. Shame on me for writing this, lol. :P