A/N: This chapter and one more!

Fifteen

Erik crawled from his dark and dusty hole, incredibly weakened, coughing the dust from his lungs. Christine followed him, leaping out at once to support him even as Nadir advanced to them both, with a cry of gladness.

Erik slumped to the ground, leaning against the wall, Christine crouching beside him— he bent his shoulders, buried his face in her hair. Her arms about him, Christine turned a beaming face on the watching daroga.

"He lives, Nadir— he lives!"

Nadir got Erik finally to the bed in Christine's room— she refused to allow him to be placed in the coffin. Erik relaxed against the pillows, utterly exhausted— Christine sat at his side, running her hands over his, placing gentle kisses on his fingers, singing him the lullaby her father had once sung to her, till he fell once more into sleep. The mask gone, his whole face showed a relaxed and peaceful happiness that he had never known.

Some scars heal.

Christine released his hand and stole back out to the main room to speak with Nadir.

He sat on Erik's stool at the organ, staring down at the keys, not daring to touch them. Erik's music had been such a part of his soul that to touch his instruments seemed sacrilege. Nadir knew, however, that the organ would never play again.

Reaching out, he ventured to run his fingertips over the keys, just the merest brush of his skin—

Immediately there was a quiet moan from the organ, and a corresponding moan from the slumbering Erik in the other room.

"He does not want you to do that," said Christine.

Nadir jumped and turned to face her. He had not known she was behind him.

She advanced towards him, smiling, holding out her hand— putting his sudden, absurd fear of this tiny woman behind him, rejecting it as ridiculous, he stood and took her fingers in a light grasp, pressing a fond kiss to her palm. She drew her hand back at once; already knowing herself to belong to one man, and one alone. The expression on her face was not a smile.

"I must give you my thanks— and Erik's— you have helped us more than you can know."

He bowed. "On the contrary, my lady, I realize I have made it possible for you to be together, and I accept all possible credit."

She smiled now, and laughed, looking for just a split second like the Christine Daae who entered the Opera House for the first time, all those years ago. Then the image faded, and the oddness returned to her gaze.

"I do thank you," she said with sincerity, "and even forgive you for endeavoring to keep me from him. I understand now why you did it."

He bowed again, slightly.

She watched him for a moment.

"I must know the truth, daroga— Erik is dying, isn't he?"

Nadir bowed his head, his eyes going to the floor, unable to meet Christine's steady gaze.

"I fear," he whispered. "I very much fear."

"And you do not know how long he has left."

"He told me he was dying of love— love for you, Mademoiselle Daae— Christine. With you returned to him, who knows how long he can manage to last?"

She nodded, waiting for his eyes to come back up and meet hers.

"It matters not," she said softly. "It will not be long enough, whether it be one year or a thousand. Or even— as I fear— less—"

"A month," said Nadir quietly. "Perhaps two."

Christine's lashes veiled her eyes suddenly and she bit her lip to keep from crying. Nadir held his hand out to her.

"After all this time, to finally let him know I belong to him— and then to lose him so soon—" She stared at his hand.

"I understand," said Nadir.

She took his hand and he led her into his comforting, fatherly embrace, where she cried her tears out on his shoulder.

Erik's words:

You will bear a child, Christine, and if it is mine it too will die!

Some people are destined to be left by everyone they love.