A/N: Okay, before we begin this chapter, let's get two thoughts that we all share out in the open right away.

First of all, no, Erik is not stupid, but he tends to get angry first and ask questions later. He will figure it out, don't worry. But he may not come to the conclusion you all would hope right away.

Secondly, let's all give a great resounding chorus of belly laughter for the fact that the de Chagny boys are sterile. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAH Is it not hilarious that R had 6 years of trying and it only took E like one day? E's masculinity will not be denied. Hee Hee Hee. I love humiliating the girly man! Inbreeding, it will do it every time.

phantomann: That mother-in-law must really be requiring all your attention. Both you and Lisa abandoned me on this one. Some loyal reviewers you two are. Hmph!

A.Morton: Thank you. Welcome to the fic. I suppose we could castrate Raoul, but then, would anyone really notice the difference? I mean, after all, he already looks and speaks like a girl and is sterile, so what more can you take from the guy? He never had much masculinity in the first place. Erik is sort of hogging it all. And yes, E will go rushing after C, but perhaps not in the way you might hope...

AngelOfMusic387: Welcome aboard. Thanks for the kind words. And don't worry. I am more than accustomed with my fans' frustration when the plot doesn't twist their way. I thrive on it, in case you haven't noticed. Stay tuned for more angst!

Feri-san: Wow, another reader hailing from a different country! I am honored. Thank you for the many compliments, and I am pleased you are enjoying my attempts. So, do you think it is living up to its angsty billing then, or do you need some more? If you like angst, you will love this installment. Bwooohahahah!

Roses Of The Winter: Lovely screen name, BTW. So, you are saying you would take E up on his offer then, eh? Hee Hee. So would most of us here.

Aislynne: Don't die, for Pete's sake! Then you will never know what happens. It is so nice to meet another fellow pseudo GB stalker. Jema Moda and phantomann and I are starting a club for those of us who love our Gerry addiction. Thanks for the review!

Mz. Kelsi: Your optimism and faith in my willingness to provide you with a happy ending are admirable, though not entirely justified by my past deeds. I hope I will not let you down, but I can't guarantee anything...

Captain Oblivious: Great, just great. You killed the fop. Now you are going to have to go down there, scrape him off the Paris sidewalk, and resuscitate him. I NEED HIM for further chapters. Besides, would you really deprive E of the joy of killing him after all R has done? Now get going with the putty knife and the heart paddles. Chop, Chop!

Kagome 1514: Yay! Another angst lover. You will like this one then. I will get to LOM, as soon as I finish this one, I promise.

Mystic Darkness: Glad you liked the turn of events. Yes, R is indeed a b$sad. Isn't he? But at least we know there will never be any little miniature versions of him running around! Hee Hee Hee

Twinkle22: Thank you, thank you. I don't think this chapter will heal you of your heart condition, however. You may want to sit down...

dramatic-singer: How happy of an ending does it have to be? If maybe one person is happy, would that be enough for you, even if it isn't E? As I said before, I believe in happy endings, but I can't guarantee one for this particular fic. Nor will I guarantee that it won't be happy. Aren't I helpful?

Pertie: Hook is not set yet, huh? Hmmmm. I will just have to make things a bit more interesting then. Check out the title of this chapter.

draegon-fire: I actually don't think C had thought of N reading the letter, but he is sort of their little cupid, isn't he? He is always straightening out their numerous misunderstandings because his judgment isn't clouded by intense emotion.

The Divine Miss M: Hee Hee. You caught on to my inbreeding reference. E will elaborate on that greatly in this chapter. Aren't I mean to the fop? He never really did strike me as a particularly virile man anyway. And don't worry. This one is nearing the end rapidly, probably 5 to 10 more chapters to go, depending on how I decide to do it.

lafemme540: Now that was much better. No hint of sympathy for the fop at all. You have come over completely to the dark side. Welcome.

erikfan: Not once he calms down, of course. But he is a bit of a hothead. And he may not come to the conclusion we want him to, either. Read and find out more.

LiltingBanshee: Will Erik rush after Christine? Will Nadir make it in time? I can't tell you. Sorry. Stay tuned.

Ophelia-Rose: It doesn't seem necessary to neuter the fop, since he is ahem incapable of reproducing anyway. (Tee hee hee – What a girly man!) But it would be fun! Let's leave it up to E to decide his punishment, shall we?

XCiel: Awwww! Erik, Jr. – I bet he will grow up to be a hottie just like daddy. Wait. What if it is a miniature C? Never know what your crazy author might do next. And yes, E is a genius, but he hasn't had a lot of dealings with people, and he has never been in love before. His emotions always get the best of him, at least initially. But he is no dummy.

xo-little-lotte-xo: Thanks for all the compliments. We did miss you last chapter, but we are glad to have you back. I like the "whack-a-fop" idea. We could make it into one of those arcade games like the one where you bop a gopher when it pops up. If we used R's head instead of a gopher's, we could make a fortune. All the people reading this fic would be lining up for blocks.

MadameOG: I agree. R is definitely a $#&. You are the only one who seemed to notice that the ring is now unaccounted for. Will someone find it? Wait and see. Hee Hee

darklady5289: Ouch, that sounds painful. Try using the various symbol keys in your reviews concerning the fop to avoid further mom confrontations. And yes, a baby is on the way, if our heroine can survive E's wrath, at least.

eternalcelestial: Thank you dear. Yes, a baby on the way. A tiny E or a tiny C? I will never tell. Stay tuned.

xxphantomphanessxx: NO HEART ATTACKS! PLEASE. I don't need any lawsuits. I am poor enough. And please don't slap the hottie. He can't help himself. His mojo is just too powerful and must be shared with the world.

Hearts Aflame: Glad you liked it. "Stupid foppish pansy" – Can I quote you on that?

JemaModa: You, young lady, are slacking. Both you and Ann forgot me on this one. I suppose it is all those other fics you are reading. Your unfaithfulness is disturbing. I may have to withhold further Gerry pics from you as punishment. And BTW, when I said you didn't HAVE to review every chapter, I didn't really MEAN it!

Ch. 25 – The Phantom's Return

Erik sat on the hillside overlooking the city with his head in his hands. Darkness had fallen and tonight the stars were hidden from his view entirely by thick, heavy clouds. At last, he lifted his dark head and wiped the tears from his eyes. His anger had faded, leaving him with an empty, hopeless feeling inside. He had been so close to happiness and a real life this time. But once again, he was all alone.

Staring out into the darkness at the blurred lights of Florence beneath the overhanging fog, Erik thought back over the past two weeks, wondering where he had gone wrong. Christine had seemed so content here with him, so sincere in her words of love. She could be indecisive at times, that was certainly true. But to change her mind so drastically in the span of one day between her two contrasting letters seemed unlikely. Perhaps she had been planning to leave him for some time but had waited until she was away to tell him because she had been afraid of his reaction. That seemed entirely possible, given his past history of violence.

Erik sighed. But then why send the first letter, expressing her love and her longing for him in his absence? If she truly wanted to be rid of him, why would she raise his hopes in such a way, only to shatter them the next morning? Perhaps there was a clue to her change of heart contained somewhere in the second letter.

Erik felt his pockets for it, but then remembered he had crumpled it and left it on the floor of the villa. It hardly mattered. The cruel words were etched into his heart forever. Closing his mind to the accompanying pain for the purpose of rational thought, he allowed them to replay in his mind.

"I have no choice but to accept his offer..." That was certainly an odd way to describe one's acceptance to a proposal of marriage, but perhaps she was simply referring to the more acceptable life the vicomte could provide for her.

The next words echoed through his mind. He knew they would haunt him for the rest of his life. "He and I have a great deal of history together, as you well know, and we will be starting a family very soon..." Erik winced at the words. That sentence had been the dagger that had cut him to the quick. The thought of Christine's past with Raoul was difficult enough, but to think of her in that miserable fop's bed, with his child quickening in her womb made him feel sick.

Why would she wish to wound him so? Her words seemed cruel and heartless given the past two weeks. He and Christine had made love countless times throughout their brief time together. Secretly, he had hoped that perhaps they had already conceived a child of their own. It made no sense for her to share this information with him now, when she knew it would hurt him the most.

Was she angry with him somehow? No, her words of the first letter seemed to prove that she wasn't. Erik's head ached with the difficulty of trying to unravel the complexities of Christine's fickle mind and heart.

Again, though it pained him greatly, he pondered her words, wanting desperately to understand. "He and I have a great deal of history together, as you well know..." This statement truly puzzled him. From all Christine had shared with him, she and Raoul's relationship after the opera fire had not been particularly pleasant. She had described her marriage as a complete disaster and it had been she who had sought in the end to have it dissolved.

It didn't make any sense. Why would she return to the boy now, when she seemed happy and fulfilled at last. The vicomte would never allow her to continue her opera life, and Christine was at the height of her career.

"...and we will be starting a family very soon. Know only that I do this now to spare you any further pain..." Erik once again cringed at the words, but there was something about them nagging at him in the back of his mind.

Christine had told him that she had never once conceived during the six years of her marriage to the vicomte, though they had attempted many times to have children. It seemed presumptuous at best to expect a family immediately upon their reunion when Christine had never once before become pregnant during all of their past years together.

Christine had, of course, blamed herself for her inability to conceive, admitting to him her fear that she was barren. Though he had not shared his suspicions with her at the time, Erik had thought it more likely that it was the vicomte who was unable to sire a child. After all, the de Chagny family bloodline went back countless generations and great efforts had been undertaken over the years to preserve its purity, including numerous marriages between close relatives. It was not uncommon among the nobility for the males of an entire generation to become sterile as a result of such close breeding. As the comte had never to his knowledge sired any children either, it seemed reasonable that this was the case with the current generation of the de Chagny family.

But if that is true, then how could she and the vicomte hope to...

Suddenly the answer hit him like a ton of bricks.

It isn't his child. It is mine. They intend to start a family with MY child. Christine is already pregnant.

Erik leapt to his feet, his frenzied anger driving his haste. He had been used. Played masterfully by the very actress he had helped to train. Christine had never cared for him. He had merely been a means to an end – in this case, a de Chagny heir. The pain of the realization felt like a stake through his heart, but at the moment, it was his thirst for revenge that drove him onward. He did not even bother to saddle Demon, but flung himself onto the beast's back and bolted down the road.

Nadir was still waiting inside the house for Erik, though night had fallen hours ago. His friend had been absent all day, never returning so that the Persian could share with him his suspicions regarding Christine's letter. When he heard the horse hooves pounding down the driveway, Nadir hurried to the window. He had a sinking feeling in his chest that his friend's eight year sabbatical from violence was at an end as he watched him thunder out into the night.

Sighing wearily, Nadir ignored the dull pain in his chest and went to fetch his traveling cloak.

Christine sat in a small cafe across from the opera house, sharing a delightful lunch with Marguerite for the second time in two days. Their friendship had blossomed into an easy confidence almost immediately. Christine found that in the girl's cheerful company she could forget the woes of her own life for a while. Marguerite was five years younger than she was, very kind and bright, and also wise beyond her years in the ways of the world.

Marguerite, in turn, felt as if Christine could have been her older sister. They had formed an immediate bond over the past few days and she felt as if they had been best friends for years. Watching her today, however, she sensed that something was troubling her friend behind her gentle smile. Marguerite had also noticed Christine's increasingly bland diet and the queasy look on her face whenever she tasted her food.

Deciding to take a chance, Marguerite reached across the table to take the older woman's hand. "Christine, do you mind if I ask you something? I promise that however you answer, I will tell no one."

Christine looked momentarily wary, but nodded. "Of course, Marguerite."

"You have hardly touched your food, and you seem to have a certain light to your face. Is it possible that you are with child?" Marguerite's gentle green eyes sought Christine's, patiently awaiting her reply.

Christine did not answer for a moment. In truth, she was bursting to tell someone of her secret. She was so very proud to be carrying Erik's child. And the only one she had thus far been able to tell was his most hated rival, who now planned to use the information against him.

She searched Marguerite's face, but saw no ulterior motive, nothing outside of friendly concern. A smile slowly spread across Christine's face. "Yes. I believe I am," she whispered in a confiding tone. "And I am so very happy, Marguerite. You have no idea how much joy this would bring me if only..." Her smile faded abruptly and she caught herself.

Marguerite noticed at once her troubled look. "What is it, Christine? Why does carrying this child not bring you the joy that it should? Are you all right? Is there something amiss in your pregnancy?"

"No, no. Everything is fine, at least as far as I know." She looked down at her hands. "It is just that the circumstances I now find myself in are less than ideal." Christine's gaze fell upon the bare fourth finger of her left hand.

Marguerite was watching her closely, and noted her gaze. There was no wedding ring on the woman's finger. And yet, she was certain Christine had been introduced to the cast as "Signora de Renoir". Still, she kept her suppositions to herself, not wanting to offend or embarrass her new friend. Instead, she chose the safest response to Christine's admission.

"Of course, your position here at La Scala. What will you do?"

Christine sighed. "I hope to stay on for a time until Rao...I mean until my condition forces me to resign." The tiny brunette looked crestfallen at the though, as if it were not her wish to relinquish her place as prima donna, but someone else's.

Marguerite thought back to the conversation she had unwittingly overheard between Christine and the man she had supposed to be her husband two days earlier. She had been walking by the prima donna's dressing room, just as the door had opened and a rather overdressed gentleman emerged. As he stepped out into the corridor, he had snarled something angrily over his shoulder back into the room. She had stepped immediately into the shadows, not wanting to be accused of eavesdropping.

She remembered clearly the curious words he had spoken.

"Perhaps Fate is finally repaying me for all the pain that miserable man has caused me. I will have my heir at last and he will never know of his. Poetic justice, don't you think?"

At first, they had made little sense, but as she considered them now in light of all that Christine had shared with her, she began to wonder if there was not another man involved in her dilemma, someone other than her husband. After all, it was hardly uncommon for a prima donna to take a lover, even if she was married. Perhaps Christine had done so while her husband had been away for some reason. If the child were to be that of another man, especially a lover whom Christine was being denied contact with by her husband, that would explain her conflicting joy at the pregnancy and sorrow at the circumstances surrounding it.

Marguerite sighed at the poetic beauty and tragedy of her theory. She wondered if she was right. She was a hopeless romantic and the idea of Christine pining for the father of her child was tragic beyond belief. Perhaps she could help Christine to overcome all the obstacles between her and her lost love.

"Christine, the man who was coming out of your dressing room...Is he your husband?" Marguerite asked gently.

Christine glanced up. She trusted this woman. And she was being crushed by the weight of her burdens alone. Would it really hurt to tell one person something of her situation? Of course there was always the possibility that Marguerite would tell the others in the opera house, but did her personal or professional reputation really matter anymore? After all, she would only be singing one night under the roof of La Scala and then would be returning to France for a quiet life as a vicomtesse under a different name. Her opera life was most likely over.

She felt the tears spring to her eyes. The last few days had been hell, and she had no one to confide in. For most of her life, she had had Erik in one capacity or another, but after her letter refusing his proposal, she was no longer certain he would ever speak to her again, not that she could blame him. Her confidence that he would sense something amiss in her words had waned, especially when she considered how upset he would be upon having his ring returned to him for the second time. He most likely thought she had toyed with his emotions once again and would be far too angry to take the time to find any hidden meaning at all.

She felt so alone in her predicament. She hated Raoul for what he was doing to Erik and to her. She would confide nothing to him unless absolutely forced to. So who did that leave her with?

She lifted her soft, lovely brown eyes to the young ballerina's honest face. "I trust you, Marguerite, so I am going to tell you a story, one that no one else in the world except me knows the entirety of. Parts of it may shock you, and you may never look at me the same way again," she lowered her eyes, but continued on. "However, I find the burden of it rests heavy on me and I long to share it with someone. Tell me, my dear, have you ever heard the tale of the Phantom of the Opera?"

An hour later, Marguerite walked Christine back to her dressing room to ready herself for afternoon rehearsals. After all that she had heard, she was still somewhat stunned. Christine's story had been far more painful and bittersweet than she ever could have guessed, and she had been deeply touched by it. As a result, she had been quiet for most of the walk back to the opera house. Christine's revelations had not caused Marguerite to see her as any less of a woman, quite the opposite in fact. She was amazed by her strength and determination to survive such hardships and still be where she was today.

When they reached the dressing room door, Marguerite took in Christine's lovely, fragile face and reached out to pull her into a warm, reassuring embrace. "Do not worry, Christine, all will be made right in the end. Everything will turn out as it should. I am sure your dashing Erik will be here to rescue you any moment, like a prince in a fairytale." She released Christine with a kind smile. "I had best go and find my things for rehearsal. See you there," she called cheerfully as she headed quickly down the long lavish corridor toward the ballerina dormitories.

Christine watched her stepping lightly down the hall, so assured that Fate would be kind. She, in turn, was rapidly losing her faith in Fortune's charity. She felt instead as a helpless puppet being pulled about by the strings of Destiny's every whim. And as for Erik riding in to save the day, well, perhaps he had rescued this damsel from her self-inflicted distress one too many times already.

Christine turned to enter her room, then thought better of it and headed with a heavy heart toward rehearsals. The last thing she needed was another confrontation with Raoul if he decided to show up today. Perhaps singing would lift her spirits. Verdi's latest opera was an inspired piece and the anguished role of Donna Leonora seemed to speak directly to her life. When she arrived onstage, she retrieved her music and glanced again at the familiar title - La Forza del Destino. It could just as well be the title of her own autobiography, she thought with a grimace.

As she moved to her position on stage, her stomach gave a rebellious turn at the meager lunch she had only recently ingested. The bout of nausea passed quickly, and she touched a hand to her abdomen, smiling unconsciously despite her discomfort. No matter what the rest of her life turned out to be, she had a part of Erik living inside of her. Half of his beautiful artistic soul would live on in their child. No misfortune on earth could ever take that knowledge from her. Christine's hand came to rest protectively over her tiny gift and she said a silent prayer that God be more merciful to her child than He had been to either of the babe's parents.

Unbeknownst to her, a silent shadow watched from the rafters above the stage. The movement of her hand and her secret smile had not gone unnoticed. And her treachery would not go unpunished.