Christine shook uncontrollably despite the heavy many layered quilts that lay atop of her, the sweat trickling down her temple making her shiver anew. She coughed heavily, her throat voicing its complaint in the raw lines that the coughs created, stinging and burning profusely.

"…. Thank you so very much Doctor Dubois," Raoul's voice drifted through the heavy oaken doors as the two men, one her husband , the other the docor that had just been in to treat her. Raoul had led him down the hall to his office to pay him his due, and was now escourting him to the door.

" She is in the center of the storm Monsieur DeChangey, but it will pass quickly, so long as she receives regular treatment," the doctor answered in his cultured voice, deep, and none too soft. Christine winced as the sound resounded heavily against her throbbing head.

"Well it would be much appreciated if you could come here every fornight or so?" Raoul's voice was carefully measured, quiet and refined.

"Oh, no, monsieur, she would require a nightly check sir."

"Ah," Raoul's voice was beginning to fade now. " that would not be too strainious?"

"No, monsieur. I will be completely careful to be sure she is well rested during my time here…." The voices were almost unaudible now. "…nightly check on health….weekly bleeding…" The voices had completely faded now.

And for that Christine was glad. She shivered again, but not because of her cold sweat. The bleedings were painful and absolutely pointless so far as she could tell. It hurt and it only caused her to feel drained afterwards. Sighing and pushing such thoughts from present mind, Christine relaxed against the plush pillows, her hair sticking to her cheeks, drenched in sweat. She caught the distant sound of the large doors down stairs as Raoul closed them behind the doctor. And good ridence, Christine thought to herself.

Raoul's footsteps neared her door now, the brass doorknob turning on one end of the double doors and her handsome husband walked in. His hair was tied back with a black ribbon, his wear representing his riches, but fashionably, rather then the obnoxious dress of others of the aristocratic families of Paris, France. His face was young, his nose narrow and delicate, his cheeks smooth with youth, but his pure blue eyes were tribute to things that had happened to him and the life he had risked to save Christine's. Christine smiled weirily.

Raoul smiled gently back and strode to her bed side, sitting cautiously next her her, and taking her hand. He sighed, his brows furrowed.

"Your cold." Christine shook her head slightly.

"No," she answered quietly. "I'm hot." She fought off a smile when he clenched his jaw. He looked so much like Fermin when he was angry when he did that. "Raoul, don't worry. As the doctor said, I'll be fine with nightly treatment."

Her husband nodded heavily, leaning forward to touch his lips to her drenched forehead. Drawing back Christine now could not surpress a weak giggle when the sweat from her skin glistened on Raoul's gentle lips. She reached up with a great amount of effort and brushed her thumb along the lines of his mouth. Raoul chuckled and wiped her brow tenderly with his fingers in return.

" Things will turn out fine, Raoul," Christine assured him with a tired voice. "You've givenme the best doctor money can-" but her sentence was cut off sharply by racking coughs that caused her body to jolt forward harshly. Raoul reached forward and supported her shoulders to stop the hard, wrenching, jerks of her body as she coughed. After a time, the coughing subsided and Raoul lowered her carefully onto the stack of pillows. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing heavily, her chest falling and rising rapidly, her breath sounding ragged. Raoul spotted a small pitcher of water and a glass cup stood on her bedside table that he was sure one of the maids had placed there. Pouring half a glass of the water, Raoul supported Chritine's head, placing the glass to her lips. Christine gulped heavily, and coughed slightly when she took the liquid int oo quickly, but once she had downed the half glass her heavy bresathing had subsided substancially.

Raoul's eyebrowns pinched drastically as he gazed at Crhistine's pastey color. Christine opened her eyes again, meeting his.

" You look so much like Erik when you do that Raoul. Please stop," her voice was pleading. It was painful to think about Erik. His face. His voice….that voice.

That unearthly angelic sound that resounded from the heavens themselves when he sang. Those harrowing vocals as they had washed over her like water from the sea washes over the sandy beach, smoothing over the crevices. The thought that some how the Phantom had managed to deceive her into believing he was not only her father's spirit, but The Angel Of Music! Shehad never quite figured out how he had managed it. Christine had never been the most shrewd of mind, but she considered herself intelligent enough to spot a trick when she saw one. But this man… this angel… this phantom of music had drawn her in so completely it had almost cost her her sanity, and her lover's life. It was cold, the whole truth of it all, the idea that all of this could have actually have happened.

"Afraid that my eyes will become those of the Phantom's, Christine?" Raoul asked in all seriousness, his voice smooth and wonderful; a lover's voice. Not a phantom's voice, but a lover's. Real and genuine. "I assure you that neve shall my eyes blaze with the fury of a mad man Christine. Never again shall I let that lunatic, or any other harebrained man seduce you into trickery."

Chistine moved her head to nod, but her headache had worsened with her bout of coughing, and the slightest movement o her neck caused pain to shoot through her pounding head.

"Don't," raoul instructed. "Don't try to move,. I know."

Standing, raoul rounded the large king sized bed and lay down beside her, molding his body to her own. Sighing contentedly, Christine closed her eyes as her husband brushed back her wet hair from her face, layed a simple kiss upon her lips, and pulled her close. Christine snuggled back, burying her paining head into his neck, and drifted to sleep