a/n I'm gonna try to quit smoking. Much support is needed. Thanks!

CHAPTER 5—SECRETS YOU KNOW

With the exception of baby Eve, the children had been blissfully silent all day, having been kept amused by Gustave. Christine rolled onto her side to look at Erik's pocket watch, which had been placed on the bedside table. It read one o'clock. Rolling back over, Christine looked at Erik. He was lying on his back staring at the ceiling. She ran her fingers through her hair and he smiled, lacing his fingers through hers.

"Are we alright?" she asked softly.

Having shut themselves in their room, they had confessed everything to each other. Every bitter thought, every declaration of love, everything that had happened while Erik had been in Madrid—the brothels he had visited and the visit she had made to her first marriage bed. They had yelled, cried, made love, laughed, and made love again.

Now, they were drifting in the afterglow of their love and Erik's body was more relaxed than Christine had seen it in quite some time. He rolled his head to the side when she spoke and cupped her cheek in his hand. "I would forgive you if you did it again. I love you."

Tears filled Christine's eyes and she rolled into his embrace once more. "What should we do about Bella?"

Erik heaved a heavy sigh and Christine traced her fingers through the hair on his broad chest. "I don't know," he said quietly. "I don't know whether to tell her parents that she knows or to tell her that it wasn't what she thought it was."

"She's suspicious at the very least," Christine said softly.

"I suppose." Erik's fingers toyed with the long curls that cascaded down her back and he rested his head back. For a long time, neither of them spoke. Then he abruptly said, "I thought about you."

Confused, Christine looked up at him. He was staring at the ceiling again with a far away look in his eyes. "When?"

"In Madrid. I thought about you the whole time." The green eyes closed against tears that nevertheless leaked from underneath the lids.

Christine rested her head on his chest again. "I love you," she said softly. "And I forgive you."

Erik opened his eyes and smiled down at her, dropping another kiss on her forehead. "We should get up before the children come looking for us."

"I suppose."

Sitting up, Erik swung his long legs over the edge of the bed and reached for his trousers. Christine appraisingly watched the muscles of his back ripple as he stretched his long arms over his head. "I feel old," he groaned.

"You're not old."

"I'm almost sixty."

"You're fifty-one."

"Sixty feels close from this side of fifty."

Laughing, Christine wrapped her arms around his neck from and kissed his scarred cheek. "I love you, Erik Dussek."

"I love you, Christine Dussek."

There was a small knock on the door and Nadir's voice called, "The two of you had better get up. There are three restless children downstairs attacking the fourth."

Erik stood up and Christine wrapped herself in the sheet as he opened the door. Nadir stood outside, still dressed from the night before. Although his voice had been merry, his ruddy copper face was tired and grim. Christine had a horrible feeling in her gut that she knew why Nadir was here, and her fears were confirmed when she glanced over his shoulder to see Sonia de Chagny standing behind him with a thunderstruck look on her face. She glared at Christine, who looked down at her hands. Erik stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him, and Christine grabbed her dress from that morning, pulling it on quickly and running a brush through her tangled tresses before stepping from the room. When she opened the door, the hall was now vacant except for Sonia.

Christine had known Sonia de Chagny for years—had entertained the woman in her home when Raoul had brought her from Vienna for visits. The two women had always treated each other with polite respect and, though they seldom spoke for more than a few minutes, had always gotten on fairly well. Now, however, Sonia looked close to murder as she glared at Christine. Christine found that she was ready for the insults that would likely come her way, which they certainly did.

Tears were flowing down Sonia's face, now. "How could you?" she burst out. "You could have had any man you wanted, Christine. Why him? Why crawl back into bed with the man that you divorced?"

"I'm sorry, Sonia," Christine said softly. "I can't tell you how sorry I am. It was a mistake, and we both know that. I know I've hurt you—I know exactly how you feel. But things will be alright. Raoul loves you and—"

"Does he, Christine?" Sonia's voice was almost pleading. "Does he really? If he loves me, why did he sleep with you? Why did he make love to you in my house after sending me on 'vacation?'"

"It wasn't making love, Sonia," Christine said gently. "It was meaningless sex when I was going through pregnant hormones and anger at my husband."

Sonia's face looked different, but Christine couldn't put her finger on why. For a moment she was silent, then she said, very quietly, "Why did you fight?"

Christine closed her eyes. "He said… something about Raoul. Raoul and I…"

Only one of Christine's other pregnancies had made her so sick. The last forty-five minutes had been spent in the toilet vomiting while her husband slept off alcohol in the next room. The terror coursing through her veins as she became sicker and sicker was nearly overpowering. She could not bear another miscarriage. No matter what she did, she still felt ill all day. It hadn't helped that Erik had last night told her that if she did miscarry that it was a sign that the child was not his…

She loved her husband, but she hated when he drank and became an ass, accusing her of being unfaithful to him as she had been to Raoul. He had all but told her last night that he thought she was sleeping with Raoul again. As she raised her head from the porcelain, she felt dizzy. There was a small clatter behind her as her husband, still somewhat drunk, entered the room. He scowled at her.

"How can you still be sick?" he growled. "You've been up for almost an hour."

"I'm sorry, Erik," she said softly.

"No matter," he said cheerfully. "I need to piss—move. "

It was amazing how quickly he had gone from grumpy to cheerful, and Christine moved to sit off to the side as her husband relieved himself. When he was finished, he turned to Christine. "What time is it?"

"After six, I think."

"Find out for me, won't you? I have to get on that damn train at nine." Doing up his pants, he gazed down at her. "You're sure that baby's mine?"

"Yes!" Christine said angrily. She could feel the burning behind her eyes that proceeded tears. "Why did you go out with Nadir last night?"

"I'm not going to see my old friend for a couple of weeks. Had to say goodbye."

"I'm your wife!" she cried hysterically. "You could have stayed home with me."

Erik shrugged and turned on the faucet. "You've been acting like a bitch."

She could feel the tears burning as she tried to stop them from falling. "I can't help it," she said desperately. "I'm pregnant."

"That's your excuse for everything," he said, splashing water on his face. "'I'm pregnant,'" he said mockingly. "'That's my excuse to be a bitch.'"

"Stop calling me a bitch!" Christine had to work to stand up without falling over—she still felt sick. "You made me like this."

Erik laughed drunkenly. "You weren't objecting though, were you? Or was it your precious Viscount that fucked you until you swelled up?"

"Stop it!" Christine could no longer fight the tears and they fell down her face. "Why are you like this?"

Erik's face fell. "You hate me, don't you?"

"No."

"Say it, Christine! You know you want to!" His voice was both angry and sad. "Tell me you hate me!"

The words fell from Christine's lips before she had the chance to stop them. She couldn't help it—at that moment, for the first time in their marriage, she did hate him. "I don't care if you come back at all—all you'll do when you get here is drink away your liver."

A dark look came across Erik's face at these words. "You've never loved me at all, have you, Christine? You've loved your precious Viscount."

The sick feeling in her stomach intensified. "I hate you when you're drunk, Erik! You don't act like yourself—you're a bastard! I've never hated you until right now. You want me to hate you? I hate you! There, I said it!" Without warning, she vomited all over him.

"I hate you, too!" he said disgustedly. "I hate you…"

Turning back to the toilet, Christine vomited while her husband degraded her with cruel words. It was back again, that ceaseless sickness that her pregnancy had brought about. She couldn't stop the sickness and tears were streaming down her face as she began to dry heave. She could hear Erik crying, too, and the words coming from his mouth had changed. "I love you, Christine… I love you."

He reached down and pulled her hair back, gently combing the vomit from the ends where she had been unable to hold back her tresses. When she had finished, she sat back on her heels. She felt dizzy and still bitter with her husband. She knew it was horrible to send him away while they were still frustrated—it could not lead to anything good. "You should go."

"Christine—"

"Go. You'll miss your train." She closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall.

Erik stood up, knowing that she did not want to see him at that moment. "We'll speak more when I get back." He left the room.

An hour later, when Christine had cleaned herself up a bit and dragged herself from the toilet, she stood in the doorway while the driver loaded Erik's bags into the hansom. "I love you," she said softly.

Gently, Erik pressed his lips to her flushed forehead. "I'll be back in two weeks," he said quietly, and he climbed into the carriage, smiling sadly at her as it pulled away.

Next to her, the boys waved goodbye and little Angelique reached out her arms toward her father, who blew her a kiss as she squirmed in Christine's arms. They watched together until the carriage had gone from sight. Christine let Angelique down and she took Mathieu's hand as the youngest three children trudged sleepily back into the house. Gustave stayed behind, holding tightly to Christine's hand. "Mama?"

"Yes, darling, what is it?"

"Why did you and papa fight?"

Christine's heart broke in two at the look on her oldest child's face. She hadn't realized that anyone had heard them, and it tore at her conscience to know that Gustave had most likely heard the harsh exchange between Erik and herself that morning.

"Grown ups fight sometimes, darling."

"You told papa you hate him." Green eyes were filling up with tears. "Why did you do that?"

Christine's throat was too constricted to speak and she pulled her ever-loyal son to her, clutching at his thin frame as she wept. "I'm so sorry, love," she sobbed. "I didn't mean to do that. You know I love your father very much."

She didn't know how long she and Gustave stood there, but after a time there was the sound of hooves on the gravel and Christine looked up to see Raoul cantering toward her. He frowned at the tears on her face, and Gustave excused himself to go eat breakfast.

"What's wrong, Lottie?"

Tilting her face up, Christine looked up at her childhood friend and first husband. "Raoul…" She paused for a moment before glancing back at the house. "Do you… Do you still want me to come see you? Alone?"

Raoul's eyes widened. "Good God, Christine, what happened?"

"I'd rather not speak of it right now," she said. "But I would like to come see you…"

Tears were streaking down Sonia's face by the time Christine finished her story. They had slumped to the floor by now, and Christine's eyes were still closed.

"To this day, I regret that morning. I knew he'd send you and Bella away for a vacation. I knew I would go to his bed—your bed—and sleep with him again. I knew I'd do to you what you and he had done to me. But I was so angry that I didn't care. I didn't even…" Christine opened her eyes and looked at the ceiling. "I wanted to hurt Erik. I just didn't know I'd regret it so."

Sonia managed a nod. "I always envied you, Christine," she said softly. "You had a house full of children and music and love. You loved your husband, and your husband loved you. You still have all of those things. I just thought… I thought that something was wrong with the fact that I fought with Raoul. You and Erik never seemed to fight—after so many years of marriage you still seemed so happy. I guess everyone has problems, though. We cannot hold those against each other. Everyone makes mistakes. You made a mistake when you told Erik that you hated him. He made a mistake by getting drunk and saying what he did. Raoul made a mistake when he brought you over. I made a mistake when I left without asking why he was not coming. No one's perfect." She reached out and took Christine's hand in her own. "I can't do it now—not with everything so fresh. But someday soon, I will forgive you."

Tears were flowing down Christine's cheeks now as she squeezed Sonia's hand. "Thank you. That's more than I could ever expect from you."

a/n Okay, hopefully that straightened some people out. Notice the quickness of this update? Yeah. Freaky. I only did it to alleviate some confusion. Hopefully that got rid of it.