Author's Note: Thanks so much for all of the reviews! You guys are all amazing, and I appreciate your input so much! I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much.

Chapter Six: What Forever Meant

Christine woke to soft, kind voices whispering to one another, and she came to the sudden realization that she was not in her own bed in her apartment, but tucked tightly beneath a large, home-made quilt in a warm, dimly lit room. Sitting up and rubbing her puffy eyes, she cleared her vision and recognized the room as Madame Giry's apartment, and felt a flood of fear at the very fact that she was within the newly reconstructed Opera House. Clutching at her quilt, she looked over and saw that Meg and her mother were at the other side of the room, whispering with one another.

Meg turned her head, her soft blond curls falling over her shoulder, and saw that Christine was awake. She smiled so genuinely that it tugged at Christine's heart, and instantly was at her friend's side. "Christine! You're finally awake! Are you feeling any better?"

Christine attempted a smile, but it felt foreign and misplaced on her lips. "Was I ill?"

Madame Giry glided across the room until she was beside Christine's bed alongside her daughter. "You have a slight fever, my dear, and nothing more, due, I think, to the stress of the day." Christine felt her own forehead, remembering how she had wiped Raoul's burning brow countless time, and felt regretful, for an instant, that she did not have consumption herself. As if Madame Giry could tell Christine's dark thoughts simply by reading the expression on her face, she presented her with a cup of steaming tea, which Christine gratefully accepted and began to sip slowly.

Meg sat cross-legged on the bed across from Christine, drinking her own tea and smiling easily at her. Christine wondered for a moment how Meg could be so at ease, and remembered that she always was this way. After her marriage, Christine had no longer been Meg's constant companion, but they still saw each other frequently, just never within the Opera House, as it had been undergoing repairs and renovations, and because of the unspoken agreement that Christine would never be asked to return there. She winced inwardly at her current location, but forced herself to consider the room as part of Madame Giry's apartment, not a suite within the Opera House.

Christine wondered when Meg would speak, and break the comfortable but lengthy silence that grew between them. What was there to talk of? Not of the latest production and the usual gossip that accompanied it, because that was a life Christine had left long ago. Whenever they had met in Paris more recently, they would talk about fashion, Raoul, and Meg's short-lived and numerous romances. None of those things seemed appropriate now, when Christine was lost within a grief so deep and dark that she could barely look her friend in the eye, for the fear that it would send her to a place that no one could follow her to.

"I haven't been back here in four years," Christine said softly, verbalizing the thoughts, and because she realized that Meg was waiting for her to speak, knowing what Christine needed instinctively.

"I know, Christine. It's safe here now," Meg offered.

"I didn't need to come here, it had been my home for so long and I loved it, but after Don Juan…. I couldn't even think of even walking by," she said shakily, staring blankly in front of her at Meg's hands. "And I had Raoul. He was everything that I ever needed, he made me feel safe, he made me feel loved, because he loved me, more than I ever deserved." She was able to look at Meg when she spoke about Raoul, smiling slightly as she remembered how tenderly he had loved her. "And now he's gone, and what am I? Nothing more than my father's orphan, the silly girl who caused the deaths of innocent people because of my own naïveté, and his obsession with me, when all I was trying to do was be loved." Her voice broke, and her hands tightened around her cup of tea. "I was loved, more than I ever thought was possible, even though his family thought I was ridiculous. He didn't even care! He let them down and reflected poorly on himself to be with me- before that he would have given up his life for the sake of my own freedom and happiness. What other man in the world would do that, Meg? There isn't any other! I loved Raoul with everything that I had," she paused to let out a strangled sob, "And even that couldn't keep him here, and we thought it made us invincible." She laughed suddenly, scaring Meg. "We were so wrong. We promised each other forever not knowing what forever meant." Breathless and pale, she stopped, looking at her friend with drained, glazed eyes.

"Oh Christine…" Meg breathed, and leaned closer, wrapping Christine's slight, trembling shoulders into her arms. There was nothing that she could say to reach Christine in her sorrow, she barely moved, other than the spasmodic shudders that gripped her body, and she had no more tears to cry. Meg felt a warm hand on her arm, and turning away from Christine for a moment, she looked into the knowing face of her mother.

Madame Giry's eyes seemed to tell Meg that everything would be alright with time. Christine would be her friend again, and not the broken young woman she had become. "Come, Christine, you should get some rest," Madame Giry coaxed her, nudging Meg off the bed and helping the young woman to lie back comfortably. Christine nodded, thanking them wordlessly and sinking into her bed.

"I'll be right here," Meg said softly, motioning to the cot on the other side of the room that she had set up for herself.

Only after Madame Giry had extinguished the candles that lit the room did Christine whisper, "Thank you," so silently that she was sure the Girys did not hear. As she was drifted off into a desperate, exhausted sleep, she wondered fleetingly and groggily if he would be watching her as he always had.

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