First of all, a big thank you to all our reviews. We really appreciate them. We may very well have a new story up shortly one that is slightly different from our previous ones, so please be on the lookout. Without further ado, chapter 15.

Chapter Fifteen

Six months had passed since he'd seen her last. Six soulless months. His only reasons to live were his daughter, and his music. Without them, he surely would have died by now. Knowing that Christine loved him as he loved her was no comfort; it only served to torture him further. Their love was perfect. . . Their life together could have been.

He had kept his promise to her by taking excellent care of Brigitte. She was a sweet little baby; already he could tell that she was quite bright. He'd spared nothing to keep her comfortable and amused, including his time. He spent most of his waking moments with her; when he was too busy (which was not very often), Annette, who was quite kind and loving, would tend to her. But as much as he loved her, nothing could fill the void in his heart that was formed when Christine left.

Christine sat in the parlor; dressed in Raoul's favorite dress of hers: a deep blue velvet gown that he had bought for her on their honeymoon. He was due home anytime that afternoon; she knew what he would want from her when he returned, they had been separate for two years after all, and she planned on trying her best to give him what he wanted; she was his wife after all. It did not even matter to her what happened once he returned, for her heart and soul had both emptied long ago. She went through life numb and emotionless now; she had gotten good at lying and acting the way people expected of her; she assumed she could fool Raoul the same way. He believed her to be the same faithful and loving wife she had been when they first married; Christine planned to allow him to keep believing what he wanted.

In a matter of hours, two of the deChagny carriages pulled up to the gate of the estate, one carrying the vicomte, the other his luggage. He disembarked and ran to the front door of the house, a boyish glee filling him at the thought of seeing his Christine again. He knew she'd be pleased to see him as well; he could hardly believe it had been two years since he last saw her.

After entering the house, leaving the door ajar, he shouted, "Christine? I have returned!" Excitement filled his voice.

Christine rose from her chair, plastering a smile on her face, as she hurried to the entrance. "Darling!" she exclaimed, hoping her voice contained enough excitement. He threw his arms around her, lifting her off the ground and spinning her in his arms before kissing her lips.

After setting her to the ground, he exclaimed, "You look lovely. Have you missed me?"

She hoped he would not notice how she had changed physically. Her breasts were larger and softer now, after nine months of breast-feeding, and she no longer had a dancer's body, though she was still quite thin. "Yes, so very much!" she said, false happiness filling her voice, as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

He smiled. "Come, over lunch we shall discuss what has happened while we were apart." She took his hand in hers.

"Oh, I'm afraid nothing much has happened to me while you were gone. My life was rather drab without you here," she said, at times it scared her, what a good and quick liar she had become.

Later on that evening, Christine stood at the large bay window of their bedroom in her nightgown. She knew what was most likely going to happen that night, but she tried to push those thoughts out of her mind. She was thinking of Erik and Brigitte; they occupied her thoughts most of the time, when she heard Raoul enter the bedroom.

Thinking that she had not heard him, he snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her; kissing her cheek, he whispered, "I have missed you, Christine."

She turned her head to look at him; she had been dreading this for months. "Have you?"

"Very much," he assured her. "I can hardly believe that I have lasted this long without you." He kissed her lips awkwardly before moving his hands tentatively to the fastenings on the back of her nightgown. "May I?"

No. "Yes. . . "

He began to loosen the nightgown, at what he believed what a sensuously slow pace. He pushed the gown off her shoulders, leaving her in her chemise. He kissed her arm softly.

In her mind, she saw Erik's face. She couldn't do this. . . She just couldn't. "Darling," she said, trying to find an excuse as to why her husband couldn't have his wife, "I'm sure you're quite tired from your journey. . . Don't you think we should save this for another night?"

He paused a moment, puzzled. Doesn't she want me? he wondered. Finally, he replied, "Yes, I am quite tired, now that you mention it, Lotte. You know me so well," he said, smiling. "Please excuse me," he said, pulling a nightshirt from the wardrobe and walking into the bathroom to change.

Once he had gone, Christine sighed with relief, picking up her discarded nightgown from the floor. She hadn't wanted to hurt him. . . But she just couldn't do it . . . She couldn't do that to Erik, or to herself. But what would happen when he wanted to again? This time Christine had had an excuse, but she wasn't so sure she would be as lucky the next time. Tears stung her eyes, as she climbed into bed, turning on her side, so she was facing away from the bathroom door; she planned to pretend to be asleep when he reentered the room; she didn't think she could face him.

He climbed into the bed next to her; feeling a bit awkward wrapping an arm around her shoulders and drawing her close to him. "Goodnight, Lotte. It is good to be home," he whispered, even though he believed her to be asleep.

She tried not to tense up too much at his touch. "Goodnight, darling," she whispered back quietly.

Erik crumpled the newspaper in his hands. On a spontaneous chance, Erik had purchased a copy of the local paper while doing some shopping in the market (he usually cared nothing for the petty current events of the world). Ironically, on the only day he'd ever read a paper since he was a young boy with little else to read, a small article detailing the Vicomte deChagny's grand Arctic exploration had been placed.

The vicomte has returned safely home, it finished. He plans to settle down with his wife in the deChagny Estate now that his adventure is complete. Immediately Erik's thoughts turned to Christine. Now, since the boy had returned, the true test of strength would begin.