Ok! Wow, is this really chapter 8 already:thinks: huh, guess so!

I'm probably not going to post the humor fic anytime soon- I need to re-write what I've got, and I should finish this one, too… just so you know.

I want to try and finish this within a few chapters. I have the ending worked out and everything. I hate to say it, but there'll probably only be a couple more chapters…

And FYI- the whole "I love you!" "I know." thing isn't mine… it's from Star Wars and therefore belongs to George Lucas. The lyrics quoted below are from the song Tough by U2.

-

Tough, you think you've got the stuff,

You're telling me and anyone,

That you're hard enough.

You don't have to put up a fight,

You don't have to always be right,

Let me take some of the punches,

For you tonight.

Listen to me now,

I need to let you know,

You don't have to go it alone!

- U2

Erik gaped at her, as if unable to believe what she had said. Christine read rage in his expression.

She closed her eyes. Why did I tell him that? Now he's going to feel sorry for me, and want to help me more than ever… She swallowed her tears, and tried to appear calm. "Look, Erik, I don't know why I told you that. No matter what Raoul has put me through, he is my husband."

"What? Christine, how can you forgive him after everything he's done to you? Please, let me help you! You don't have to go through this alone, you know." He finished quietly.

But I do. I've certainly earned it, haven't I? If I'm capable of making such a colossal error of judgment, then I deserve everything Raoul's put me through. This was Christine's logic, and even though she knew, deep down, that it was severely flawed, the majority of her mind accepted it. However, she certainly owed Erik no explanations.

"I should go." She said, feeling completely miserable. Half of her hoped that he would ask her, beg her, to stay with him, because she knew that she would not be able to refuse him.

But he did no such thing. "Very well." Erik said quietly, looking as miserable as she felt. He rowed her across the lake in silence, leading her out to the Rue Scribe entrance. He opened the gate for her, and she walked out of it. Then, just as Christine was beginning to walk away-

"Wait!"

She turned, not wanting to hear what he had to say but at the same time utterly unable to leave him.

He seemed at a loss for words. "I love you." Erik said quietly.

"I know." Christine said, feeling her heart break. All she wanted to do was to go to him-

But she took a step backwards, and another, and another, and she turned around, hurrying away.

By the time she lost her resolve and looked back, Erik was gone.

-

"I'm sorry I'm a bit late, Raoul." Christine apologized as she entered the sitting room. By tipping the driver handsomely she had managed to arrive home only ten minutes tardy. "There was traffic."

Raoul grunted, not looking up from his book. She breathed a mental sigh of relief, taking this as a sign that he did not know she had seen Erik.

"I was thinking," she continued. "That maybe we should go on a vacation. You know, get away from Paris for a bit." She did want to get away from Paris- and from Erik.

"Perhaps." He said indifferently.

Christine sighed. Was this what her marriage had become? A useless, loveless coexistence? When she looked at Erik, she could feel his love for her barely contained in every word he spoke. But-

No. She could not let herself think of Erik! Her relationship with him was over, she kept telling herself that. She had no connections to him, it should have been the easiest thing in the world to let him drop out of her life.

Then- why did she keep thinking about him?

-

Christine knocked on the door of the small house, feeling nervous. She was here against Raoul's wishes- all right, against Raoul's orders- but she felt that this was something she had to do. She needed to learn to disobey Raoul's orders- if only a little bit.

The door opened, and the joy she saw in the face of the one who did so quickly turned to anger.

"Madame de Chagny." Meg Giry said in a strained voice. "How nice of you to grace my humble home with your superior presence. I know that you do not deem the friendship of a lowly ballet girl worth much, so I will not ask you to come in."

Christine sighed, realizing that her friend (ex-friend, perhaps? she thought remorsefully) was quoting a great deal of their last conversation back at her. "Meg, I'm sorry, I know I've been horrid-"

"When someone who you looked upon as a sister suddenly severs all ties with you for a reason as petty as a rise in social status, it's a bit more than horrid. You don't care about me anymore, you don't care about Maman-" Meg took a deep breath. "You're- you're as bad as La Carlotta ever was!"

"Meg, please, let me explain-" Christine interjected.

"Explain then!" Meg was nearly shaking with rage. "Explain why the person I considered to be my best friend hurt me so much!"

"Well-" Now that the moment had come, she was rather at a loss of what to say. She couldn't tell Meg the truth- it sounded too much like an excuse. But she didn't know what else to say, so- "I- it's just- Raoul-"

"Oh, I see! He made you stop seeing me, right? Your perfect, wonderful, handsome husband-" she laughed bitterly. "You're such a fool."

"What?" she couldn't fathom what her friend was talking about. Not unless Meg knew-

"Perhaps I'm wrong. I don't know the Vicomte well, Christine, but there are rumors- and people always said you'd regret marrying him."

Christine felt chills go down her spine. There are rumors- were people talking? If so, Raoul would never let her hear the end of it.

"My mother has many friends in the Opera House- she knows things." Meg continued quietly. "As for me, Christine, I'll say it again- you are a fool."

"I don't understand- what are you talking about?" she asked, confused.

"You scorned the only man who ever truly loved you- and you'll pay for it for the rest of your life!" With that, Meg slammed the door.

She was talking about Erik. Dear God, sometimes she felt as though she'd never be away from him, from thoughts of him. All she wanted to do was bang on that door and tell Meg that she did love Erik-

Because it was true, she realized. The excitement she felt when they were together, the way she shivered when they touched-

It was love, and it was deeper than anything she'd ever felt for Raoul. But what could she do about it? You scorned the only man who ever truly loved you… She would be paying for it for the rest of her life. She'd already begun.

Sighing, Christine turned around-

Only to come face-to-face with Raoul.

He grinned evilly. She smelled alcohol on his breath.

"This is the last time you'll cross me…" he growled.

-

Meg stamped into her room in a fury. She was angrier with Christine than she thought she ever would be. But she remembered the conversations she had overheard in the first few weeks after the… incident… with the chandelier, and that had sent her into a rage.

The Opera Ghost- or Erik, as she had never quite got used to calling him- had stayed with them for a time, fearing that it would be unsafe to return to his lair beneath the Opera House.

She had never told Christine. She had felt quite sorry for the poor, broken man. She had also felt a great deal of guilt for leading the mob to him, but no one had ever mentioned that.

Meg would take to sitting outside the door to the guest room and eavesdropping on his conversations with her mother.

He spoke of a Christine Meg didn't know. Meg quickly realized that there were two sides to her friend- A giggling, gossiping chorus girl with the incredible luck to have a Vicomte for a suitor- and the beautiful, enchanting Prima Donna that Erik had fallen in love with. The latter Christine was gone now, and the woman Erik had loved was as good as dead.

Meg reached into her closet, and pulled out a framed photograph of herself and Christine. They had had it taken almost a year ago.

She looked upon their smiling, happy faces… and burst into tears.

-

Christine could barely move. Raoul had beat her harshly, and left her lying in the gutter outside Meg's house.

Somehow, she managed to drag herself to the door. She pounded on it several times with all her strength- and then passed out.

-

A banging on the door interrupted Meg's cry.

Quickly wiping her face on the hem of her dress, Meg scurried to the door, and opened it.

She looked around, seeing no one.

"What…" she gasped, as she took in the sight before her.

Christine, her former best friend, the woman Meg had grown to hate, was lying on her doorstep, bloody and unconscious.

-

:dives into bomb shelter: Don't hurt me for the cliffie… or else you won't get the next chapter! So HA!