Chapter Summary: Erik remembers his life since leaving Paris twenty-six years ago, mourning Christine and marveling at her daughter. Raoul and Christine get a letter from their daughter.

CHAPTER SIX

Her image haunted him.

It had haunted him from the very first moment he had seen the tiny child lighting a candle and whispering prayers to a God he was not sure even existed. He had marveled at her grief for a dead person and wondered if it was possible to truly love that deeply. He had tried to guide her, help her grow, realize the potential only he had seen, all the while hoping that she would guide him, teach him what it meant to love enough to be able to shed tears for another being. He felt he had come so close, the prize within his reach when that other man had blundered in to his domain. This interloper had claimed the heart he, himself, had ached for, desired, needed. It was something he would not understand until that moment when she had been willing to do anything to save that other man's life. He remembered as their lips parted, her eyes beseeching him, that his broken heart had come together only to break again.

At that moment he had become human.

Now a quarter of century since she had placed her ring in his hand, walking away into her future with that other man, her image still followed his every waking and sleeping moment. She had been there as he hid in the caverns under the opera house, in the tunnels under Paris amongst the bones of the dead. She had followed him as he sailed from France to the New World in an attempt to escape from memories almost too much to bear. Her face was never far from him as he wandered strange lands, no longer covering his own visage, allowing the world to see, to know, to feel his pain, the pain every person kept hidden within their souls. He had eventually returned to France years later when the events he had triggered were no longer a vivid memory but a scandal to be whispered behind closed salon doors.

He had known she and that other man owned property in the country so he had sought it out. He had thought God finally smiled upon him when the neglected property next to the fine estate had been for sale. What remained of his ... salary ... long secreted in the caverns under the ruined opera house was enough to buy the small dark monastery turning it into a passable home - the first home he could remember.

He remembered when word had reached him that she was to visit the estate next door. He remembered walking to the edge of the woods everyday, standing in the shadows hoping for just a glimpse of her. He remembered the day he had finally seen her, three young boys running around her, their laughter carried up to him. Years in the dark had not dimmed his sight so much that he could not see she was with child again and he wondered what it would have been like to watch her carry his child. Wondered what it would be like to place his hands on her swollen belly and feel the life moving beneath the skin. He wondered if the child she carried would be another son that looked like that man or a daughter that would have her soft dark hair and large, glowing eyes.

Now he no longer wondered and another image had come to haunt him.

He had stood within the shadows of the woods and watched her as she had sat upon the fallen tree trunk, deep in thought, studying the path he had used in walking away from her. There was no escaping the fact that she had her mother's incredible eyes for even from the where he stood, he could see the emotions racing through their depths. A brief moment of jealous anger had surged through him when he wondered why her eyes were not darkly colored like those of her mother but blue like the eyes of that man. It was only a moment, though, for this young girl had awakened in him something he thought he had buried long ago.

She had stirred the sleeping embers of his heart.

Erik ran a thin finger over the velvety petal of a red rose, one of many kept in vases throughout his home. "Oh, Christine," he sighed. "My angel is the mother of an angel. She is as lovely as you." Erik hung his head. "I wish she could have been ours," he whispered.

He looked up as the thunder boomed, rain beginning to beat against the glass of the windowpanes. Erik was not sure if it was the rain or the tears that blurred his vision, melting and swirling the image of mother into daughter and daughter into mother.

"Christine, Christine," he whispered.

"Christine, Christine," a voice called out to her. It echoed down long dark corridors, always surrounding her but never within reach. "Christine, Christine," it sang to her as she tried to run, never able to escape the reach of the echo. "Christine," the voice called in a more insistent tone as it finally reached out from the darkness to grab her.

"No!" she cried out, flailing her hands against the horrors of the night.

"Christine!" a familiar, comforting voice called to her.

Christine opened her eyes, unsure of where she was, unsure of who was calling out to her. Then she saw the gentle blue eyes in front of her face, the strong hands holding on to her own shaking ones. "Raoul," she breathed, taking her hands from his light clasp so she could throw her arms around his neck, drawing him close. "Raoul," she said into the collar of his jacket, the familiar scent of his cologne helping to bring her back to herself.

"You were dreaming, ma mie," he whispered to her, caressing the back of her neck, trying to stop the shudders he felt shaking her thin frame. "It was only a dream." He drew back, taking her face in his hands. "This time it was only a dream."

Christine allowed herself to be drawn into her husband's soothing gaze. She felt the racing of her heart slow, her breathing ease and the tension flow from her shoulders as Raoul gently held her. Christine rubbed her cheek against the soft hand that held it and managed a small smile. Her smile broadened and she took a deep breath as she watched the concern drain from Raoul's expression.

"Better?" he asked.

"I did not mean to frighten you," Christine said as she looked around, trying to gather her thoughts. She was seated in her withdrawing room and must have fallen asleep to the sound of the rain outside.

Raoul got off his knees and sat next to his wife. Christine moved his arms so that she could lean against his side, resting her ear against the comforting beat of his heart. "I not did mean to startle you from your rest," Raoul told her. He smiled as he reached into his pocket. "But I thought you would like to see this."

Christine lifted her head to see a white envelope in her husband's hand, the last of the darkness left her eyes as she recognized the flowery handwriting. "Annalise," she breathed. She looked up at Raoul before settling her head back on his chest. "Read it me, please."

Raoul opened the envelope, taking out the letter, holding it in one hand as he put the other hand and arm back around his wife. "Beloved Family," Raoul began, "I am so pleased to tell you that Great-aunt Adele is feeling more like herself every day. Yesterday she even managed to coax the staff into serving us luncheon in the garden."

"I wonder who really did the coaxing," Christine said softly.

Raoul smiled and continued, "While she is feeling much better, she still naps daily but has promised me that such is the way with old ladies and young babes. While Great-aunt Adele sleeps I have been outside in the warm air, walking in the fields, sketching the flowers, petting the farm animals and always within vision of Father's retainers just so that I will not get a scolding from Maman when I return home."

"Wise child," Christine commented.

"I finally managed to convince the vintner to show me just how the wine is made," Raoul went on, "but I am afraid he was a bit reluctant at first. I do not think he felt it proper to show a young lady such things but I convinced him that Father would not frown upon this." Raoul chuckled. "It is all so fascinating to learn new things and to meet new people. Monsieur Pfieffer, the priest in the village, has been so very kind to me and has escorted me around the village twice now. I have purchased lovely things for everyone that I shall bring back with me but I'll not tell what they are for that would ruin the secret."

"Where did she get the money from?" Christine wondered. When there was no answer, she lifted her head to look at her husband. "Raoul?" There was still no answer and Christine shook her head before laying it back down. "You are both impossible."

"I miss Paris very much," Raoul resumed reading, "and cannot wait to see everyone again. I have been writing to Katherine. We are in agreement that we look forward to going out again when I return. She tells me she has had many invitations but misses my company. I shall tell you that I miss her as well. I have loved my time in the country and Great-aunt Adele is always such pleasant company but now I am rested and looking forward to being back in the loving arms of family and friends. I must go now for it is almost time for luncheon and then I shall take a walk this afternoon. I promise I shall write again tomorrow. Give my love to my darling brothers and their sweet wives. Kiss Chloe and Bertrand for me. And, always and forever, all my love to my most precious parents - Annalise. PS - I almost forgot; I am enclosing sketches for Maman. I hope she likes them."

Christine sat up. "Sketches?"

Raoul placed the letter down and picked up the envelope once again. He opened it and drew out several small pieces of paper. Christine reached up a hand and her husband handed the small sketches over to her. Christine held the drawings so that both she and Raoul could look at them. They were fine pencil sketches of wild lilies, jack-in-the-pulpit, dandelions and violets. Annalise had carefully lettered each drawing, adding her name and date in the bottom corner.

"She is very talented," Christine said.

Raoul kissed his wife's hair. "She is your daughter. I would expect nothing less."

"Not like that, Raoul. Never like that," Christine told him with a shake of her head.

Raoul sighed. "Christine, there is nothing to fear. Annalise has a fine eye for placing images on paper. And we have given her lessons on the piano and Madame Giry was gracious enough to give her private ballet lessons." He smiled at the memory. "I shall always treasure the sight of you and Meg and little Annalise going through the graceful movements. She always tried so hard to do just as you and Meg did. And she sings like an angel." Raoul touched his wife's chin so that she would like at him. "That is where it stops, Christine. Her teachers have all been gracious, loving people. And what Annalise does or does not do with what she has learned shall be her decision and she will do it for the simple joy of doing it."

"I know this," Christine assured him, "but there are times when I just ... I just ... I wish I could take her and put her in a glass case where no harm could come to her. Raoul, she is such a babe!"

"You were not much older when we married," he reminded her.

"But I was much older in so many ways." Christine sighed. "Annalise has had the protection of two parents and a safe home. She has not had a care in the world and that makes her vulnerable to the horrors that this world can bring."

Raoul drew his wife into his arms, holding her close. "Christine, it has been twenty-six years since those things happened. Those horrors are gone." He felt her stiffen. "I know that you still feel them, still remember. I have not forgotten, either; but you must not think that the same thing will happen to Annalise. She may look like you and be gifted with a voice that is surely your legacy to her but she is not you. She is a bright young woman with the future just opening up before her. And I promise you that we shall do everything within our power to ensure that there are no shadows in her future."

"Promise me that, Raoul." Christine looked at her husband, pleading with him. "Promise me. Promise me that my daughter will never see the shadows that we have both seen."

"Christine," Raoul said softly, "I make you the same promise now that I made that night in the snow and the promise I made to Annalise that first afternoon I held her - I promise to guard you both. I will not let the shadows touch either of you."

"If it were only that easy," Christine whispered almost to herself. And more loudly, "Thank you." She smiled at him. "I know we are a trial to you."

"When you love someone as much as I love the both of you, it is never a trial."

"I shall hold you to that when there are serious suitors at our door asking for your permission to court our daughter."

"No one is going to be good enough," Raoul told her.

"Perhaps she can find someone like you," Christine replied, emotions flooding her luminous eyes. "I think I should rest easy if that were to happen."

"We have done well together, have we not?"

"We have." Christine sighed. "I have been happy with you. You have been patient and kind, giving me safety and comfort and shelter. You have given me four children I love beyond words. And you have loved me without asking for anything in return." Christine reached up for a kiss allowing her lips to linger. "I could not have asked for more," she said as they finally broke apart.

"You have always had my heart." Raoul replied knowing that there was one thing for which his wife could have asked but never did. Yet that unspoken request faded from his mind as he felt himself drowning in the depths of his wife's eyes. "Christine, I love you."

"Stay with me, Raoul," Christine said as she once again laid her head upon his chest, drawing his arms around her. "Just stay with me," she breathed softly.

Raoul sat quietly, his arms around his wife, feeling her breathing slow and deepen into the familiar pattern of a peaceful sleep. He sighed and kissed her head, listening to the rain as it beat against the window glass in time with the breathing of the woman in his arms.