Chapter Ten: Carefully Everywhere Descending

"Erik?"

"Mmm?"

Christine turned herself and supported her weight on her arms, enough that she could see her husband's face.  The room was dark still, but she had to talk to him before she lost her courage, and surely she would if she took the time to light a candle.

"I need to have a talk with Raoul."

Erik's eyes flew wide open and he stared up at her. His voice was edged in ice as he replied, "You've completely lost me my dear."

"It's not what you're thinking at all. But I need to be able to see him, in private, away from the Opera, and since I didn't warn you before I went to see the doctor, I didn't want you to have another shock like that."

"Do I even want to ask why you wish to meet with the Vicomte alone?"

Christine's eyes twinkled with a secret happiness, "Meg is in love with him, Erik."

Erik sat straight up, almost knocking Christine over as he did so. She sat as well, and watched as he leaned over to the bedside table and lit a candle.

"What makes you think that she is in love with the Vicomte?"

"The other day she was asking me what it was like to be in love . . . and she admitted to being in love with someone, and when I saw the two of them together in my dressing room last night, those few moments were so fraught with tension, I'm sure of it."

Erik ran a hand through his already sleep rumpled hair, "So what are you intending to do about it?"

"I want to see how he feels about her . . . not bluntly of course, but I want the chance to see if I'm mistaken that he may care for her, or even more than that."

"Do I have a say in this matter a'tall?"

"No, you don't, but I'd rather go into it with your blessing."

"Do you think he reciprocates Meg's feelings? I've grown fond of her; I'd hate to think the boy might hurt her."

"Erik! Raoul would never intentionally hurt Meg."

"It's that unintentional type of hurting that I'm worried about, Christine."

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She was humming as she walked up the steps of the Palais Garnier the next morning, indeed, she couldn't seem to stop humming or singing in her happiness. The smile on her face widened as she remembered Erik's reaction to the news the night before. She couldn't be more pleased at the way he had taken it. Of course, she had worried a bit when she realized that it was very well possible she was with child, as they had never discussed having children.

His reaction had been more than she could have possibly hoped for. Of course, he worried, should she continue at the Opera house in the meantime? Christine had finally won her point, in that no one knew that she was pregnant yet, that it was still early, and that the doctor had told her that there was no reason she couldn't sing onstage for a while longer.

That had put a little bit of a kink in his mood, as overprotective of her as he'd been, she was sure he would be just as protective of their child. Of course, it could only serve to make him a better father.

She reached her dressing room, and opened the door, only to find it occupied. "Meg!"

"I couldn't wait until lunch," the younger girl smiled. "Did you tell him?"

Yes, I did," Christine smiled. "And he is beyond thrilled. His word was ecstatic."

"Thank goodness," Meg smiled. "When are you going to tell everyone else?"

"Soon enough, Meg, soon enough. The doctor said there was no reason I'd have to leave the Opera just yet."

Meg's face fell a bit at the thought, "After you have the baby, are you coming back?"

Christine's brow furrowed, "Honestly, I haven't decided yet. In a way, I'd like to come back, I enjoy singing, being here, being on stage, but . . . I don't know how things will be different after the baby. I was just so thrilled to know there was a baby that I . . . I didn't think on it."

"Well, you have time to decide, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," Christine smiled. "Now, I have to get to practice before Monsieur Reyer has my hide and you . . ."

"Have to change into my practice clothes before Maman finds me," Meg finished he sentence.

"Exactly."

"I'll see you at one then," Meg whirled out the door.

Christine shook her head at her whirlwind of a friend. She then took paper from the drawer of her dressing table and began to write a letter to Raoul.

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The hours with Monsieur Reyer and Julian Martinet, the new tenor, dragged by endlessly. Though the two had developed a repartee, it wasn't the same as singing with Erik. Nothing could compare to that.

"That's enough for now," Reyer finally said just before one. "Now, you two have your rehearsal with the chorus this afternoon, we're reblocking the Gloria all egito."

Julian groaned, while Christine merely nodded her head, and the two of them walked offstage together.

"I say Christine," Julian began, "You were starting to look positively green out there. Are you feeling well?"

"I'm fine, Julian, merely my breakfast is not agreeing with me."

Julian's brow crinkled with concern. He was a normally jovial young man, the youngest tenor to ever hold a leading role at the Paris Opera. He made friends with everyone, to the lowest of the ballet rats. So when his costar was out of sorts, he would worry about it.

"You're quite sure?"

"Yes, of course. Just you watch, I'll be fine."

"Christine!" Meg called from the end of the hallway.

"Meg Giry to the rescue, eh?" Julian joked as the little ballet girl made her way to Christine's side.

"Hello Julian," Meg smiled.

"Dare I ask what adventures you two ladies have planned today?"

"Merely a lunch date," Christine chuckled, "Hardly an adventure."

"Yes, and Maman will be here any moment, she stayed behind to chastise Annelle for being late to practice." Meg peered down the hall, to see Madame Giry's dark form appear at the other end, "In fact, there she is now."

Julian made a formal little bow, "Then I shall leave my two favorite ladies to their luncheon. Oh, and Christine, eat carefully!" He took off down the hallway.

"Eat carefully?" Meg queried.

"I . . . well; he said I looked green during rehearsal, so I told him my breakfast disagreed with me."

Meg nodded knowingly as Madame Giry approached the two young girls.

"Rue de St. Patrice then ladies?"

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Later that evening, Christine sat in the café, sipping a cup of tea and gazing out the window. She knew that Erik was likely nearby somewhere, watching. She'd managed to slip word to him in between rehearsals to let him know that Raoul had agreed to meet with her.

The door nearly banged open and Raoul rushed to the table, his face a bright shade of red.

"Christine, is everything okay? He didn't . . . hurt you, did he?"


"Raoul, Erik did not hurt me, he would never hurt me."

"Well, after that little speech last night about not accepting flowers, I hardly thought you would invite me to tea."

A waitress came over and poured a cup of tea for Raoul without a word, then disappeared into the background.

"Raoul, you are still my friend."

"Yes, always."

"The other night, you joked about seeing a woman who went into a convent, but I get the feeling that when you said you were interested in someone . . . that you were not kidding."

Raoul raised an eyebrow, "Jealous?"

"No!"

"Then why ask like that?"


Christine bit her lip as she realized she was very close to blurting out everything she suspected. This whole situation needs to be handled with a light touch, she thought.

"I didn't mean it like that, Raoul, I was just . . . you are still my friend, and I want to see you happy, that's all."

"Does Erik know you are here?"

"Yes, he knows."

"What does he think about that?"

Christine shrugged her shoulders, "He's not angry about it if that is what you are asking."

"I would be," Raoul whispered. "After all, in a way, we were once rivals were we not? We both wanted you. Both loved you. Of course, only one of us could win, is he not worried that I might spirit you away from him?"

"He has no reason to doubt my love for him, Raoul, you can count on that! And I did not ask you here to argue."

"Then why did you want to see me?"

"As a friend, to find out how you are doing, because I do care about you Raoul."

"I'm fine. You shouldn't worry about it; I can take care of myself, Christine."

"I know you can," she laid a hand on his arm, "didn't you once tell me that you would still keep an eye on me, make sure I was doing well, that that is what friends do? That my father would have wished it?"

"Yes, I did say that."

"Well, do you not think he would have wished that I look after you as well?"

"I would have thought he at one time hoped we would marry."

"Yes, I daresay he did, but he was practical enough to know that it was unlikely, given our differing social stature."

"It would not have mattered to me, you know that."

"Yes, I realize that now. Still, you are a friend, and . . . Raoul, you can't shut yourself away from the world forever."

"I haven't been, I assure you. For your information . . ."

"What?"

"Never mind. It doesn't matter."

"Raoul, please. It matters. I can see it in your eyes, that there is someone. If you love her, Raoul, go after her with all that you are! Don't let the past, what happened between us, stand in your way."

"You don't understand Christine," he whispered raggedly. "Just as you never had that light in your eyes for me, neither does she. I swear I am destined to love only women who can not reciprocate."

"How can you know she doesn't feel the same?"

"I just know."

"Have you told her how she makes you feel?"

"No. There's no point, Christine," Raoul muttered as he stood. "I need to be going."

He was halfway to the door when Christine called out, "Raoul!"

He turned to face her.

"Don't throw away the possibility of a lifetime and spend it in regret. Just try . . . you never know, perhaps it could be your chance at happiness."

Raoul nodded, still dejected, and made his way out of the café.

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The streets of Paris were slick with rain as Meg made her way home later that evening. The lamplight reflected brightly off of the droplets of water and in the puddles near the gutters.

When he would be near, my heart would speed up, to the point that sometimes I felt it would beat out of my chest. I used to swear he must be able to hear it, to know how he affected me, for as loud as it was in my own ears. I would get nervous around him, never sure of how to react, always careful of what I said. I didn't know at first that I was in love with him. I would feel this rush of joy at the first sound of his voice, and it felt at times as if lightning were striking between us. Shivers of anticipation would creep up my spine when he was near. And at times I felt as if my heart were bursting with feelings, flooding my very soul.

Christine can not know that is exactly how I feel. What would she think of me if she knew how my heart quickens at the sight of Raoul? She would feel betrayed. She doesn't love him like that, but I know she would feel betrayed. I know in her position I would.

She paused on the bridge that crossed the Seine, looking out over the water. The light drizzle made ringlets in the otherwise calm water, and Meg found herself wishing she could be a drop of rain.

For a moment to disturb that placid surface before disappearing forever, to become not one, but part of a whole!

She did not hear the soft footsteps approaching her, did not see the tall form as he came up beside her.

"Meg," Raoul whispered, and she turned to face him.

Silence reigned in an interminable moment, and then she moved closer toward him. He reached out and took her small hand in his own.

"We need to talk."

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*Author's Notes: Winding down what I think is at the very least either the halfway point or home stretch (depending on the very fickle muses)

L'Ange de Folie: Oops, I let another modernism in? Ikes! You know, Word really needs a check for that kind of stuff ;-)

Mel: I'm not sure yet if the baby will be born in this story or not, my muses have not yet told me . . . actually, they've been way too quiet lately. I think they're struggling with what will be the next scene . . . *bites lip*

And it looks like everyone knew that there was going to be a baby? Oh help, I wasn't very sly about that one then was I?

Awoman: Trying not to keep y'all hanging too long, hoping the next chapter will write itself instead of being such a difficult birth as this one seemed to be.

*Bows gracefully* and to everyone reading, I hope y'all enjoy this little chappie!

@}-----,-----   Stemwinder  -----'-----{@