Christine

Nadir had appeared quietly in the kitchen and led Charles into the room Erik used as a creative domain; between the music, inventions, books, and odds and ends strewn about, it was hoped that the young boy would be able to amuse himself while the adults held their discussion. Now, the three of them were sitting around the table, cups of tea looking oddly out of place before them.

Erik was leaning back in his seat, seemingly content to watch the other two. Raoul had his elbows on the table, his head in his hands as he stared into his teacup as though he thought it might give him answers. Looking between them, Christine felt a sharp pang. It was the happening all over again, and once more it was her fault: no matter what happened, she would be hurting both of the men she loved. She was wiser, now; as wise as five years of living with a broken heart and raising a child could make her, but she found herself still unable to decide. Her love for Erik was a deep, passionate river of knowledge and love, an understanding of each other's hearts and minds that went soul-deep. But Raoul was her husband, Raoul had given her so much and asked for so little in return; she loved Raoul as a good and gentle friend, someone who would always support her and always be steady at her side. Which was the best choice for her future—her son's future? The man she loved in the very depths of her spirit, or the husband whose adoring heart she had broken again and again? She could live without Erik; it nearly killed her, it took every ounce of strength she had, but she could do it. Could she live without Raoul's steady guidance—would it be fair for her to ask Charles to?

Christine did not know the answers. She did know, however, that it was up to her to begin, for neither of her companions would. So she started with the question that had haunted her since last night, when her son spoke of an Angel and the possibility of Erik being alive drew hope and fear into her heart. Meeting his yellow gaze, she asked simply, "Why did you let me think you were dead?"

"Because, my d—Christine, I thought I was dying. I was not intentionally deceiving you; I believed that, finally, I was going to be released from this mortal prison . . . you can imagine my shock when Nadir and I realized that I was actually improving. I was very nearly bedridden for six months after you left; it took a year for me to regain my former and present state of disgustingly perfect health. By that time, of course, you were married and Charles was three months old." He sighed. "What did you want me to do, Christine? You had someone who could look after you, someone who could usher the sorrow out of your eyes and teach you to live again. Better for all concerned if I had died; I resolved to act as though I were truly a ghost."

"But you weren't." This, surprisingly, came from Raoul; he had raised his head and was looking at both of them evenly. "I think we all know that Christine would not have married me if Charles had not needed a father. He has one now; our marriage can be annulled at any time." He turned a little, his gaze penetrating into Christine's. "I love you, and I love your son. But I know all too well where your heart lies. Why not just let me step aside and let things become as they should have been from the beginning? Charles is young; he may not even remember me once he grows up. Why not just free us all?"

"Would any judge annul a marriage that involved a son?" Christine answered quietly. "I don't know what's best. I don't know what's right anymore. I made vows to you, Raoul, vows I cannot break—but my heart made other promises." She laughed a little. "Neither of you is willing to take us away from the other. What happens when you out-noble each other and Charles and I end up being supported by you both and living without either?"

"Not a bad idea," Erik replied dryly. Raoul just shook his head. "You are married, and if you would just let go of me you could be happy. Let me die in your heart and give you peace."

"Charles deserves to know his father," Raoul retorted.

"Charles deserves to have a life secure in the love of two parents," Erik shot back.

They glared at each other. "Someday, he is going to wonder where he gets it from—his music, his mind, his eyes. There was never any intention of us not telling him about you at some point."

"Stop it, both of you." Christine rubbed her eyes with her fingers. "'Oh what tangled webs we weave,'" she quoted dryly. "Charles will be told who his father is." This was spoken with a scowl at Erik. Turning the same gaze to Raoul, she added, "But I think he is a little too young for that knowledge just yet. This is going to take time. Why don't we live in Paris for a while? Charles can get to know Erik and the three of us can try to decide what is best for him."

Raoul nodded, and Erik reluctantly followed suit. "You do know that we are never going to agree?" He asked quietly. Christine shrugged; she was saved from answering by Nadir's quiet voice from the doorway.

"We have company."

A/N

Lindaleriel: Thanks for liking my Raoul--he's a sweetheart. Usually . . .

Rhivanna: Thank you for reviewing! I'm glad you like it so much so far -blushes at praise- . More to follow as soon as I get it written, and thanks for the encouragement over reviews, too.

miffster:I would be mad with jealousy too! And he is human, never fear; Raoul is jealous--incredibly so--but it is a jealously he's had to live with for five years already, which is why he (so far) has a decent level of control over it.Though now that the jealousy has a target of flesh and blood, we'll see what happens. Thanks for reading!