Christine's hands so tightly gripped the edges of the newspaper that in combination with her trembling they began to tear away from the pages. Hot tears spilled from her eyes as she struggled to contain some sort of composer in front of her husband. She couldn't let him see her like this, she thought desperately, couldn't let him see her cry for his rivals death.

Quickly in a speed that shocked even her self she bolted from her seat, running up to her room. She buried her face into her pillow as she released the loud sobs, which had been stinging the back of her throat.

I killed him, she thought desperately to herself. He gave me everything and in the end I killed him. My voice, his music, his heart. . . my god he killed for me and I took it all selfishly, giving nothing in return. I loved him, I knew I did yet I still couldn't stay and now he's dead. I could have returned to him, Raoul would have found another, but Erik. . . my god what have I done./she pushed her head further against the pillow somehow thinking it would perhaps swallow her or at least suffocate her for that is what she truly deserved.

Finally once her cries ceased to release themselves she rose from the bed. Slowly she took in her reflection from the dresser mirror. Her face was crimson red with deathly bloodshot eyes. Her face sticky from the tears that still stained her cheeks. I'm undeserving of their love, why did it have to be me? Shuddering, she tore her face from the accusing mirror.

Hesitantly she turned to her wardrobe as her thoughts became focused on one thing. Gently with shaking hands she took out her black funeral dress she had kept since her father's death. She caressed the soft material as a flood of old memories clouded her mind.

"Oh papa, why did you have to leave? I've made such a mess of things." Barely audible was her voice as she hugged the fabric to her chest. Fresh tears traced her face once more as she slowly changed her clothing. Originally she was worried that the dress would no longer fit but she had lost so much weight these past few weeks that it was not an issue. Her hands reached to her neck where they unclasped the chain that rested there. She turned his ring in her hand as the light reflected off the polished gold surface. Letting out a sigh Christine removed her engagement and wedding ring from her hand, placing them onto the chain. His ring slipped onto her finger with ease, as though it had always belonged there. A smile spread across her face and she admired her treasure.

"I was wrong Erik," she whispered to herself. "This ring should have never left my hand and now it's too late."

Raoul sat in the parlor trying to pay no attention to the cries that drifted down the stairs. Every sob burned his ears like a double-edged sword. Her tears brought pain to his heart but it was their reason, which caused him the agony. His thoughts drifted to that fateful night and the scene that had taken place before him. Again and again the image would play in his mind causing him to curse the monsters name.

A knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts. Scowling he reluctantly rose to answer it. He could not hide his surprise when he found that it was the Persian man, the one from that night, who stood at his door.

"You." He spoke awkwardly as he gestured for the man to step inside. His manors escaped him as he stared at the man.

"I am sorry for this intrusion into your life, especially after all that has happened, but I'm afraid I have news of concern to your wife Monsieur de Chagny." The man whose name he was still unsure of looked worn and aged since he met him last. He seemed very tired as he stood in the entranceway. Mournful he realized.

"My wife has seen the paper this morning." He answered in a single tone; his eyes still wide as he continued to stared at the man before him in utter disbelief.

"I'm afraid that that is only half of the reason for my visit unfortunately. May I please speak with her? She will understand why I am here." How tired he seemed standing there. His eyes were absent, unfocused, there seemed no life in his face at all, just tired.

"I will see if she will speak to you," he breathed despairingly. Would they ever have peace again? He thought bitterly. He was about to go fetch his wife who was at present grieving for the man who killed his brother and also tried to kill him. A shudder past through him as he climbed the steps to her room.

Reaching her door he knocked lightly. "Christine?" There was no answer. "The Persian man from the opera is here, he would like to speak to you." Still no answer. "If you like I can send him away for you." He closed his eyes and rested his head to the wall as he waited for some sort of response.

A muffled voice came from behind the door. "I'll be down in a minute," it called. Nodding to him self, he returned to their guest.

"She'll be right down." He told the man, not meeting his eyes. The two men stood silently for a few awkward moments before the light footsteps behind them caused them to turn in her direction. A gasp escaped the Vicomte's lips as he took in her appearance slowly, not missing any detail. The Persian just stared expressionlessly, nodding as their eyes met.

"Raoul, could you give us a few minutes?" Christine asked, her eyes refused to look him in the face. She knew it would hurt him to see her in that dress, to see it was not his ring she wore on his hand. Lacking the courage to acknowledge his questioning expression she turned to the other man. "Monsieur I am sorry that we must meet again on such unpleasant terms."

With that Raoul turned and stalked from the room without looking back. A door slamming could be heard from the other side of the house only a moment later. Lowering her eyes Christine blushed at her husbands obvious disapproval.

"That is alright Madam. For your own sake I will keep this brief. I came to see if you still wished to keep your promise." He tried to look her straight in the eye accusingly. He looked as though he expected her to deny the promise ever being made.

Ah, so that's it, she thought. His reason for being here had left her baffled but then she had hardly been thinking straight since this morning. "I do." Her statement was simple and short, as she did not wish her voice to betray her. Her promise, the only request he made of her when she left. To return when he died and bury him with his ring, the very ring that weighed heavily on her finger now.

"Well then, I think it best if we got on with it. As unpleasant as it sounds, it is better to do these things as soon as possible." Christine merely nodded in understanding.

Please R&R ; )