The Girl Next Door

"Good choice, going with yellow." Christine commented. Sorelli grinned and dipped the roller into the tray of paint.

"I didn't want blue, it's just too stereotypical. Besides, yellow is a cheerful colour." She stepped back to admire the room they were transforming for the baby. Christine began to run the roller up and down the wall as Nadir came in with drinks. He set the tray down and gave an approving glance around the freshly painted walls.

"It looks very good." He said, putting his arms around Sorelli. Christine smiled to herself as she continued to paint.

It had been almost a week since she had left. In fact, it would be a week tomorrow. And in that time she had had no word from Erik. Whenever she asked about him, Nadir simply said that he was fine and Christine didn't like to push. But living with Sorelli had proved to be a very enjoyable experience. Nadir had spent a lot of time with them and it was lovely to see the way that they interacted. Whilst Erik and Christine's relationship had been passionate and heated, intense and almost desperate in their need for one another, Sorelli and Nadir were the epitome of sweet, simple love. They weren't dating, or going out – they were a couple, pure and simple. Christine didn't know how Nadir was feeling about being with a woman who was pregnant with another man's child, but he took a keen interest in everything to do with the baby. He had taken to running out to the shops whenever Sorelli's cravings took over, he had picked up all of their supplies for the painting, he had already ordered furniture for the room and was at that moment reminding Sorelli of a doctor's appointment in the week. It was clear to see that he absolutely adored Sorelli, and her feelings for him were just as strong.

She picked up a glass of lemonade and drained half of it in one go. Nadir smiled at her.

"Hard work?"

"It's worth it though. We just need to wait for this final coat to dry and I'll varnish the floor tomorrow. Sorelli can't exactly crawl about on the floor."

"I'll help you, Christine. Sorelli could go to the furniture shop and decide what rugs she wants for the floor." Nadir suggested. Sorelli nodded in agreement and used the roller to cover the final patch of bare wall, smoothing it over and admiring their handiwork.

"Hey, Christine, if we do end up getting fired from Populaire, we can always go into interior designing. We're damn good at this!"

"Hate to burst your bubble but it doesn't take a genius to paint a wall." Christine said, putting her roller down and wiping the back of her hand across her sweaty forehead. "God, if Carlotta doesn't kill me, the weather will. It's almost September, why is it so hot?"

"You try being seven and a half months pregnant in it." Sorelli muttered.

Christine went for a shower, wanting to clean the paint from her skin whilst Nadir and Sorelli went downstairs. As she stood in the stream of hot water her mind wandered, as it so often did these days, to the occupant of apartment 5a, 142 Gaston Place. What was he doing right now? Was he thinking of her? Was he feeling sad, or lonely? She hadn't realised exactly how much she would miss him. How had she spent all of that time with him and not realised what he was? More than once she had woken up and reached over to curl up next to him, expecting to feel warm flesh and strong arms pulling her in.

But he was never there.

She turned the water off and climbed out. Once dry, she put on a cool summer skirt and top, tying her hair into a ponytail. Sorelli and Nadir were in the kitchen, making dinner and listening to the radio.

"Anything I can do?" She offered.

"We're all covered in here. Why don't you relax?" Sorelli suggested. Christine eyed her.

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you?"

"Quite possibly. Get out of my kitchen."

Christine smiled and retreated to the living room. Cat was watching dust particles dance in the sunlight. Not quite bored enough to join in with such an activity, Christine turned on the television.

The news was on and she watched with semi-interest. There didn't seem to be much happening locally. Sighing, she reached for her bag. Inside were several songs that she had collected from home on Friday lunchtime. She had made a run home after making sure that Erik would be at the theatre. Within the folder were several pieces, some of Erik's originals and some by classical composers.

She sat and read the songs through, tempted to sing but forcing herself not to. This had been one of her rules. No more singing. Not until she knew what was going to happen with Erik. Christine put the music away and sat on the sofa, feeling bored. Which was not good, because when she was bored her thoughts went to one thing.

"Christine, a word?" Firmin said on Monday. She nodded and followed him to his office.

"What is it?"

"Mr Khan has requested another meeting for tomorrow morning. He wants to go through the progress on the opening night of Hannibal with us."

"Alright."

"He'll be bringing Mr Destler." Firmin said. Christine didn't react.

"That's fine, Richard."

"Christine-"

"I said it'll be fine, Richard." Christine said again. "This has nothing to do with my personal life. I am not going to let this affect my work."

Firmin did not look convinced but let it pass.

Christine left his office and went to the coffee machine, trying to stay calm. Tomorrow… tomorrow she would be seeing Erik. For the first time in over a week. Why was she so afraid?

"What's up with you?" Meg asked, making her own coffee. Christine explained the situation and Meg whistled. "Well, that sucks."

"Thank you, Meg. That was very helpful."

"I know, I know. But what can I say? It'll be tough, you'll probably cry afterwards and then things will get better for a bit before your next traumatising meeting." Meg said, waving her spoon airily. Christine couldn't help but give a small smile at Meg's infectious optimistic nature as she carried her coffee back to her office, determined to finish the basics for the opening night, which was now only a month away.

It was Christine's plan to go to the meeting, get through it and leave as soon as possible. Not that things went according to her plan, because that would have been convenient for her. And, as Christine thought, a little bitterly, nothing had been convenient lately, so why should this have been?

It started off as a fairly ordinary morning. Sorelli was in the living room doing her hair whilst Christine ate her cornflakes, flicking through the morning newspaper. And then she heard her name being called. She went into the living room to find Sorelli perched on the edge of her seat, clutching her stomach.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"I… I don't know. I feel weird." Sorelli said, her voice edged with panic. Christine frowned.

"What do you mean 'weird'?"

"It… it feels strange. Tight and… and it hurts. Christine, something's not right." Sorelli said, her voice sliding higher and higher. Christine leapt into action.

"I'll get your bag; we're going to the hospital."

Within five minutes they were driving to the hospital, Sorelli still clutching her stomach and wincing. Christine helped Sorelli into A&E, where they spoke to a nurse, who sent for Sorelli's regular doctor. Doctor Yoshida. She was a young woman, very pretty with her black hair into a ponytail.

"Sorelli, come through here." She took them to a side room where Sorelli sat on a table and described what was happening. Christine sat anxiously, waiting whilst Doctor Yoshida examined her friend. After a few tense moments Doctor Yoshida smiled.

"There's nothing to worry about. What you're experiencing is Braxton Hicks contractions. Perfectly harmless but if you've never had them before they can be worrying."

"The baby's OK?" Christine asked.

"Absolutely fine. Braxton Hicks are quite common, but absolutely nothing to worry about."

"Thanks Doctor Yoshida." Sorelli said, sliding off the table with a sheepish expression on her face. The doctor smiled and left them. Christine glared at her friend.

"If you do that again, I will murder you."

"Sorry, Chris. I was just panicking." Sorelli mumbled, going pink. Christine smiled.

"No problem. C'mon, I'm taking you home. You may as well get some rest. I'll let Firmin-" She gasped suddenly and then swore loudly. Sorelli stared at her.

"What?"

"The meeting! Christ, I forgot all about it! Come on, I've got to get you home!"

Firmin glanced at his watch again. Fifteen minutes had passed. Nadir and Erik were sat awkwardly at the table. Meg was picking a nail rather nervously as they waited for Christine and the folder of work she had with her.

At that moment, Christine was speeding down a street, only just within the limits and she was quite sure that she had gone through a red light a few streets back. She pulled into the Populaire Advertising car park and ran up into the office. Shelley looked up in surprise.

"You're late."

"Thanks, Shelley." Christine muttered, running through the office, folder tucked under her arm. She threw open the door and everyone looked at her in astonishment as she fell through the door, panting heavily. Firmin tapped his watch.

"Christine, you're nearly twenty minutes late!" He said, crossly.

"I… I know…" Christine panted. "Sorelli… hospital…"

"What?" Nadir was on his feet immediately. "What happened? Where's Sorelli?"

Christine held up a finger, indicating that she needed a moment as she collapsed into a chair. When she felt capable of speech, she said,

"Sorelli had pains in her stomach. I had to take her to the hospital."

"By Allah, is she alright?" Nadir grasped Christine's shoulder tightly.

"She's fine. It was… oh, yes, Braxton Hicks contractions. The doctor said it was nothing to worry about but I took her home to make sure that she was recovered. Is that alright, Richard?" Christine looked at her employer, who nodded earnestly.

"Yes, yes, that's fine. Are you sure she's alright?"

"Yes. I just forgot all about the meeting… I think I ran someone down trying to get here though." She joked weakly. At least she could breathe again, although her face was hot and red from running and panicking.

Erik watched her, torn between amusement and desperation. How was it possible for the mere presence of her to be driving him to distraction? At the same time he wanted to laugh, cry and seize her. It was… insanity. She began to take out her work on the opening night, occasionally fanning at her face to try and cool herself. To her credit, she managed to get going fairly quickly, showing all of her plans and suggestions in a very professional manner.

But she didn't look at him.

He didn't need to say a word, it turned out. Nadir handled everything and dealt with it very efficiently. It was nearly the end of the meeting when Erik finally spoke, not because he wanted an answer but because he knew that if he left this room without Christine's sweet voice addressing him, he would regret it eternally.

"What about the invitations for the opening? I assume they'll be sent to specific guests?"

"Mr Khan gave me a list of the most important guests. I'm having designed invitations made. I think I've got a rough design…" Christine dug in her folder and drew out a piece of card, handing it to him. Their fingers brushed together and Christine had to force herself to stay calm. Their eyes met for a moment and she looked away, aware of the awkwardness that everyone must have noticed between them.

The meeting ended soon after that and both Nadir and Erik declined Firmin's offer of coffee. They prepared to leave and Nadir looked to Christine.

"Tell Sorelli I'll be coming over tonight. I want to make sure she's alright."

"No problem." Christine nodded and looked once again at Erik. He was watching intensely and it took every ounce of her willpower not to go to him then and there. Instead she picked up her folder and left the room, brushing a non-existent hair agitatedly from her face. Erik watched her go and, if possible, his cracked heart broke a little more. It may not be in pieces but it was certainly heading that way.

Meg caught up with Christine in her office after the meeting. She was tapping away at her computer, looking at the screen with a completely blank face. Meg tapped her shoulder.

"You OK?"

"Not really."

"Didn't think so." Meg hugged her quickly. "I'll get you a coffee and something laden with calories."

That was her answer to everything. Caffeine and sugar. And occasionally it did help.

Erik stepped into the elevator of 142 Gaston Place and watched as the numbers lit up, speeding him past the floors to the fifth level. The doors opened with a smooth swoosh and he moved down to apartment 5a. He stopped and looked at the door opposite and, as it did every night when he returned from the theatre, his mind imagined the possibility of going inside and finding Christine waiting for him.

He turned away and went to his apartment. After removing his coat and jacket he stood for a moment before going into the kitchen. He drained a glass of water and went to the piano, beginning to play, anything that came into his mind, whatever happened to be on the music stand. As long as he kept playing, he did not have to think about whatever else might be happening.

His mind had been ravaged over and over again by what to do. But no solution had been offered, no help, no assistance of any kind. And so he played music. For music was faithful and he knew it well. Music played no tricks on his mind and music would not leave him.

His fingers faltered on the keys as the memory of how Christine had acted that morning returned. Of how she had tried so hard not to make things awkward, how she had tried to distance herself. Erik stood and went into the bedroom, to the drawer, to Anna's possessions. He knew them off by heart by now. But looking at them still gave him a sense of… he didn't know what, exactly.

And then he stood, turned and looked at the bedside table where Christine's cross lay. She had not packed it and it was a constant reminder of all that she had given him. Love, acceptance, companionship and trust. Erik knew that he would be an utter fool to throw that away. But his dreams had not waned with Christine's departure. They came as frequent and strong as ever they did.

Erik looked at the clock. Something had to be done. Seeing Christine today, for the first time in over a week, had spurred him to make some action, to resolve himself one way or the other. He went to the telephone and dialled Nadir's telephone number.

"Yes?" Nadir answered, sounding as though he were busy.

"Have I caught you at a bad time?"

"I was just going to see Sorelli, but I can hold on for a few minutes if you need something."

"I require the day off for tomorrow." Erik said. Nadir hesitated.

"Oh… should I ask why or are you going to tell me to mind my own business?"

"I have something to do. Out of town. It will only take one day."

"Of course. I'll have Jack take rehearsals for tomorrow. Anything else?" Nadir said, voice muffling at the end of the sentence, as though he had turned his head away to do something. Erik replied,

"No. That's all."

"Very well. I'll see you the day after tomorrow then."

Erik put the phone down and poured himself a brandy. He sat with the amber liquid and stared out of the window. A bird was chirruping somewhere nearby, it's sweet song filling the air.

The next day when Christine got to the office, she quickly gathered that something was wrong. She and Sorelli looked at each other as they entered to find people gathered in small groups, talking anxiously. Meg rushed over.

"What's going on?" Christine asked. Meg chewed her lower lip.

"Carlotta. She's decided who's on the list to go. It's not final but…" She shrugged helplessly. Christine shook her head, jaw tensed in anger.

"She has no right to do this."

"Well, she's making an announcement in a few minutes." Meg said. The three of them moved into the main office and were accosted by Jammes, who looked positively terrified.

"Christine, what am I going to do?" She whispered, her voice considerably higher pitched than usual. Christine put a hand on her shoulder.

"Nothing, Jammes. I promised you, didn't I? She is not firing you."

At that moment, everyone went silent. The four women turned to see Carlotta emerge from her office, a sheet of paper in one perfectly manicured hand. She looked around and said in a clear voice,

"I see word spreads fast. You all know what this is about. In order to further Populaire Advertising, it has been decided that there must be a few cutbacks. I don't need to explain, you all understand." She cleared her throat. "Here is the shortlist of people who may be leaving us."

Everyone tensed, waiting as Carlotta looked at her list.

"The first is Marla Pierson." A dark haired woman, a few years older than Christine turned away, biting down on her lip. Christine's hands balled into fists.

"The second is Carlton Michaels." A red-haired man with thin glasses slumped heavily. A friend put a hand on his shoulder, sympathy filling his features

"Next is Lila Faye." A pretty Chinese girl, quite new to the company and working in communications let out a sob, clasping her hands to her mouth. Carlotta looked around one last time.

"And finally, Jammes Oscaro. If there are-"

"Don't even think about it, Guidacelli!"

Everyone turned as Christine, face blazing, pushed through the crowd. Jammes stood with Meg and Sorelli, her face pale and her eyes wide. Carlotta lifted an eyebrow.

"What did you say?"

"I said, don't even think about it. You are not firing Jammes. She is from MY department and you have no power there. And as for the rest of them, they are not becoming pawns in your power trip! You have got no right to fire any of these people!" Christine said angrily. The air was thick with tension as the gathered employees looked from Carlotta to Christine. Carlotta's mouth twisted nastily.

"Frankly, Daae, you can't stop me. You might be Firmin's little favourite but it is my family's money that keeps this place afloat. Therefore, I am the one with the power, over any department I want. And if I say that that incompetent little brat has to go, then she's going. And don't think you're safe either - Firmin can't protect you forever!"

"Threaten me all you want." Christine spat, "But you are going to stay the hell away from these people!"

"You think you can stop me?" Carlotta sneered.

"I'm sure as hell going to try! I don't care if you go running to Daddy, I don't care if you throw a tantrum like the spoiled bitch that you are, but you are not firing any of these people!"

"I can, and I will!" Carlotta said in a furious tone.

"No, you are NOT!"

"What the HELL is going on here?" Shouted a voice that matched and surpassed either of theirs in anger. They both turned to see Firmin, his moustache bristling and his face a deep burgundy in colour. For a moment neither of them could talk and then Christine burst out,

"Richard, you can't let her fire them!"

"Christine, go to your office." He said in the same furious tone. Carlotta leered at her until he turned to her. "Carlotta, go to my office. I will speak with you shortly. And the rest of you, get back to work!" Nobody moved and he shouted, "NOW!"

They dispersed, talking excitedly. Christine stormed away to her office, Firmin on her heels. Once they were safely enclosed in the privacy of Christine's office he turned to her, face a picture of pure rage.

"What the hell are you playing at, Christine?"

"Richard, she can't fire them. Those four people are excellent workers; you know it as well as I do! How can you let her get away with this?" She demanded, slamming her fists onto the desk. Firmin watched her and then sighed, breathing heavily through his nose before saying a quiet, measured voice,

"Go home, Christine."

It took a moment for his words to pierce the scarlet fog that clouded her brain. She blinked.

"What?"

"Go home."

"…My God, you're kidding me…" She said, in utter disbelief. Firmin held up his hands.

"You've left me with no choice. Until I contact you, you will work from home. It's clear to me that you and Carlotta cannot function within the same office."

"So you're sending me away?" Christine said, heart pounding at the unfairness of it all. Firmin sighed again.

"I see no other solution. I will call you in a couple of days, when I've managed to sort this all out."

"…I don't believe this." Christine mumbled, face flushed and eyes filled with tears. "Richard, how can you do this? I've been here for over three years, I've done so much work, and I've worked my arse off for you, for Populaire. I've poured my life into this business! How can you do this to me?"

Her voice cracked and she took a sharp breath. Firmin didn't reply, his face transformed from anger to misery. He couldn't look her in the eye. Christine stared at him and then turned to her desk, grabbing at her things, seizing a couple of folders and stuffing them into her bag before walking past him to the door. It slammed behind him and he bowed his head, silently asking for forgiveness.

Silence fell upon the office as Christine walked through quickly, her expression halfway between pure anger and complete despair. Tears were still glistening in her eyes but she refused to let them fall. She carried her bag under one arm and her coat under the other. Jammes was stood with Sorelli and Meg. All three turned to her as she walked past, but she did not speak to any of them, heading for the exit.

The door closed behind her and everyone turned as Firmin emerged, face set into an expression of resolve as he walked silently to his office. He was perfectly aware of the reproachful looks he was receiving from his staff but chose to ignore them.

Sometimes being in charge meant having to do things that you didn't want to.

Once back in Sorelli's home, Christine sank into a chair and let the tears flow free.

Nothing. She had nothing. Her life, her job, her love… they were all gone. What did she have once you took all those things away? A shell.

Christine buried her face into her hands, large gulping sobs escaping her as the reality of what had just happened hit her. This was too much. No person had been built to withstand all of these events at once, it just wasn't possible. She kicked her shoes off and curled onto the sofa, hugging a cushion to her chest as she sobbed loudly, mourning all that she had had and all that she had lost.

A/N: What's that saying? It never rains but it pours. And that is standing true for poor Christine. Hopefully the next chapter will focus more on Erik and maybe some of the other characters as well. We'll see about that.

I'm not sure about this chapter. The first half all seems a little rushed but I quite like the second half. Well, tell me what you think! I appreciate every review that I get! And I would like to dedicate this chapter to Gondolier, who is ever so graciously lending me her expertise knowledge for future chapters.

Oh, and a quick mention to TheAngelCried who, after I jokingly suggested turning this into a Christine/Meg fic, threatened to burn her Blake book. Please - spare a thought for the Blake Books. They deserve our love.

Love

Katie