I don't really have anything to say. No character-owning. Don't sue me. Just keep reading. Here's Chapter Ten, ya?

Revelation

The weeks flew by for the pair, Meg continually excited over the smallest things, as her cheerful disposition overcame the harshest oppression. Christine remained withdrawn, rarely speaking, hiding her pain within herself. Life was good to her , though. The fresh air of the country, and the patient, persistent sun gradually lifted her spirits enough that she could bear to face the new days as they came.

The only drawback was Christine's constant illness.

"Christine, are you feeling well?" Meg asked for the several hundredth time in four weeks.

"Just a little sick, Meg. This damned flu. I'm always tired, and i get sick all the time."

"Every morning," commented Meg, her voice blatantly hinting at something. "I can hear you."

"I'm so sorry," Christine said, trying to puzzle out Meg's implied message. "I think it's some kind of chronic illness. it just won't go away. I've tried every remedy I can conjure."

"Christine, there are other causes of morning sickness than the flu, you know," Meg intoned sagely.

"Yes, I know," said Christine slowly, unraveling Meg's string of thought. How had she phrased the affliction? Morning sickness?

"Oh, God, Meg. I could be carrying the Vicomte's child! Oh, please, Lord don't let it be so!" Christine cried, nearly in a panic.

"It's not so bad, Christine. We could pretend that you died, and send the child to him. That way, the baby will have the chance to grow up with a name, a title. He surely couldn't refuse his own blood?"

"Don't you see? He will deny this child. What he did to me, if anyone found out, could ruin him. God, why couldn't this baby be anyone but his?" Her eyes grew wide, and her hand flew to her mouth to muffle her sharp intake of breath at this realization.

"Oh, Mother of God, no, no, no. Meg... this child might not be Raoul's."

"Christine, you mean... there was another man?" Christine nodded sadly. Meg moved closer to her. "And you never told me?" she admonished. "Well, who is it?"

Christine looked up, her soft eyes filled with glistening tears. "It could be Erik's child."

"Erik? Who is Erik? I don't recognize the name."

Christine shook her head forcefully. "This was all a mistake. Everything went so horribly wrong. God, what will I do?"

"Why is it so bad? Why don't you want Erik to be the father?"

"Meg, you know Erik. Only not by that name. No, you only would have ever heard him called the Phantom of the Opera."

"Oh, God, Christine!" Meg said, muffling a scream, her eyes flashing wildly. "You mean, Raoul wasn't the first?"

"No, Meg. Erik was the first."

"I can't believe it's happened to you twice!"

"Oh, no, it wasn't like that. I love Erik, Meg. I have ever since he found me, alone and orphaned at my father's grave. I didn't know it was him then. Or rather, later I didn't know that it was he who had rescued me. Oh, let me start at the beginning." She told her best friend, her adopted sister of her relationship with the mysterious, shadowed man who had taken the roles of rescuer, teacher, angel, and finally, lover. Meg looked at her first in horror, then disbelief, and finally relaxed into an air of grim acceptance.

"Well, she said at last, at the end of the tale, "that still doesn't explain why, if you love him, you don't want him to be the father."

"Meg, I don't plan on ever seeing him again." She sobbed once, resting her forehead on her folded arms. "I've never said that aloud before. I love him so much. It seems as if he is... part of me, removed and made into a different person. He is my dark half, the sections of me that I have kept always hidden, even from myself. It sounds ridiculous, I know, but he makes me face everything about myself that I have avoided for so long. He makes me stronger. Now I've lost him, I feel I shall never be whole again. Even if the child is his, I cannot face him after I've betrayed his love twice. He would never trust me again. And I never even told him goodbye," she whispered, as sorrow welled within her and took possession of her mind vulnerable mind.

Meg put her arms around her friend, comforting her as she always did during Christine's moments of deep sadness.

"I will take care of you," Meg said, and tightened her hold around her adoptive sister. She was quiet, pensive, and let Christine cry long into the evening, knowing someone had to be with her, to comfort her as she shed her sorrows. Meg knew she was the only one Christine had allowed into her new, closed world. Soon there would be another to look after, Christine's child. She would be there for the little one, as she already supported the mother, and life for the three of them would be as joyful as she could make it.