Here's some presents. BTW, I'm listening to the Original Canadian Cast of Phantom right now, with Colm Wilkonson and Rebecca Caine. It is PHEONMENAL! Rebecca's "Think of Me" is out of this world. If you have yet to hear this version, you really don't know what you're missing! It is a MUST HAVE for any phan!

Chapter Eighteen

Erik heaved out a deep breath from the inner corners of his lungs. It wasn't a sigh he let out, just a deep breath, as if he were trying to cleanse himself of their foolishness. It had been days, weeks, since he and Christine had last spoken to one another. She spent most of her time in the library, reading. But he could tell by the distant look in her eyes, that her mind was somewhere else. Meanwhile, her belly began to grow, and it was finally cemented into Erik's mind that this wasn't a dream. It wasn't something that would pass with time, or loose its luster over the years. It was forever going to be a burden on him. Sometimes Erik wondered why Christine never even tried to speak with him. Was she afraid of what his reaction maybe? Was she just as angry with him as he with her? Or, did she just plain not have anything to say?

He poured himself a glass of wine, and brought it with him as he sat at the grand piano in the foyer of the house. Christine was just in the room adjoining to the foyer. Perhaps if he played for her, she would join him? He had wanted to speak with her for such a long time, but he couldn't come up with the proper phrasing to go about it. His tongue simply dried up like the desert and his throat would tighten. But with music, with lyrics, he could say anything he wanted to.

Sitting open on the stand was the score of Don Juan. The Opera House had either tossed his life's masterpiece aside, and moved on to some other gaudy monstrosity; or even worse, had dared perform it without Christine in the lead. He opened up the book to the end, the climax scene between Amnita, and her suitor, Don Juan. He noticed how loud the paper sounded in the quiet house, with high ceilings. He quickly froze, and listened intently to the deafly silence. From the library he heard Christine clear her throat, and then proceed to turn the page of her current book. His hands began to shake, but he was headstrong.

"You have come here, in pursuit of your deepest urge; In pursuit of that wish, which till now has been silent, silent."

Erik closed his eyes as he continued, and each lyric swept over him as if he had never uttered it or heard it before, even though he and Christine had rehearsed it dozens of times. Ever so gently, his fingers grazed the piano keys, with each stroke filling his body with a shock of pleasure.

"Past, the point of no return. No backward glances, our games of make believe are at an end."

As he sang the words, Erik suddenly realized how much he could related the lyrics to the circumstances that now plagued him and Christine. Games. It always seemed to be games with one another. Who could ignore each other the longest. Who could go the longest with out touching the other? Be in the end, it was all just postponing what both of them lived for; the passion they felt for each other. All just a big game.

"….We've past the point of no return."

Erik kept his eyes shut, savoring the moment of the sweet bliss the notes of music gave him. He didn't know how long he sat in that position, but he feared opening his eyes, and seeing that the world was just as it was.

"You have brought me…"

He heard, coming from the library. Was it his imagination, or had she really responded back to him? She sang so softly, it was difficult to tell.

"…into silence, silence."

Her voice grew quieter and quieter. Suddenly, she belted from her chest:

"I have come here! Hardly knowing the reason why. In my mind, I've already imagined, our bodies entwining…"

Erik's breath caught in his throat when she sang those words. Bodies entwining. His eyes relaxed open, but still he saw the room was empty. Then, from the library she emerged, singing in her glorious voice that made the angels weep.

Finally, they sang as one, in the final verse that had a new meaning; a meaning of moving forward, of solving problems, not dwelling on them.

"The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn. We've past the point of no return."

As they finished the song, Christine made her way towards him; her head tilt downward, with her eyes glaring up to his. She finally reached him, standing right next to him, their eyes meeting with an intensity they had never felt between them before. Erik could no longer resist what he had been tempted with for weeks without being able to have. He shot out of his seat, kissing her before he had fully stood, pushing up into her mouth. She responded with the same vivacity, reciprocating with equal strength. Erik's hands traveled, from her hair, to her cheek, to her jaw line, to her heaving chest. His hands lingered there for a moment, noticing her breast had swelled due to her pregnancy. After taking in the change, they continued to travel down to her stomach. It was getting so large, it was forcing him to keep a distance from her that he did not desire. Suddenly, he felt a hard jolt of pressure against his hand. The baby had kicked.

A flash of memories came rushing back into his mind. He tried to stop them. They would only ruin what he had now with Christine. But like tidal wave they came, and he couldn't resist falling to the almighty power they had over him.

He stopped kissing her, and looked into her eyes. They were filled with hope that all had been forgotten, and they could start anew. She leaned up to him, trying to kiss him once more. But he moved his face to the left. He couldn't do it. No matter how many times he told himself what a fool he was, a fool not to be able to ignore the thing growing inside Christine. Why couldn't he just accept it, so he could just have Christine? Wasn't that all he really wanted in the end? But still, he just could not.

Disheartened, Christine glumly walked away, as if the past few minutes had only been a figment of her imagination. Erik stood by the piano's side, staring at the marble floor, lost in a daze of his own self hatred.

Martha appeared from out of the kitchen with a white envelope in her hand.

"A letter for Miss. Daae, sir."

Erik gestured towards the library, and Martha quickly entered and exited, leaving the note with Christine.

"You idiot! You just had her, in your arms, kissing you! Holding you! SINGING for you!", Erik's mind raced with all these thoughts. How could he be this stubborn? He couldn't allow things to slump back into the pattern they had practiced the past few weeks. He gathered his courage to walk into the library, and talk with Christine, and tell her that he would love her until the day he died, no matter what physical actions his body made. Talk.

"There's a novel idea.", he thought.

He turned the corner into the library, only to be shocked with the sight of Christine's body lying limp on the Oriental rug. Her head was rolled to the side, with her chestnut curls covering the beauty of her face.

"Christine!", he shrieked. "Oh my Lord, Christine?"

He rolled her over, and brushed the hair from her face. Her eyes were shut.

"Christine! Christine!" , Erik didn't know what to do, but shout her name. His mind was in a state of panic.

He saw, laying on the rug the letter she had just received. His hands shaking with fear, opened the enveloped, and read the contents of the letter:

March 15, 1870

Miss. Daae,

It is my sad duty to inform you that, Raoul, Vicomte de Changy, passed away last night, March 14. His cause of death is not yet known, but it is believed to be of natural causes.

Regards,

Captain De Lancrque