Christine stood motionless. She felt as though her very life had been sucked from her. Her heart had ceased to beat and the blood had run cold in her veins. She watched as Raoul fought back violent sobs. She watched as his shoulders shook and painful tears spluttered down his face. She watched…

But she did nothing.

A small part of her knew that she should comfort him. That she should hug him, whisper words of reassurance in his ear, that she should do all the things a proper wife should. But her brain was failing to comprehend the information that it was being fed. It refused to accept the fact that someone had passed onto the other world in a household that she had been in at the time. The thought was too gruesome to comprehend.

And the child! The dear child as lost the life that it had been given. The day it had been brought into the world was the day that if was stolen from it. Christine couldn't help but feel the indescribable urge to curse God for his lack of mercies.

Christine shook the thought from her mind instantly. All her life she had been taught that everything happened for a reason and that mere thought had kept her trudging through her wretched existence. She couldn't begin to question the only things in life that she could be sure where facts, she refused to.

Christine's eyes glazed over and she turned her head to stare at the empty staircase. She watched it with rapt interest as if the ghost of Raoul's aunt were to appear at the top of them at any given moment. Without thinking her feet began to move towards it. The staircase was beckoning her, calling to her from the darkness.

"Christine?" Raoul stuttered out through spluttering sobs.

Christine's eyes didn't veer away from the staircase. She said nothing and continued to walk towards them.

Raoul's tears dried as he began to feel an overwhelming worry for his wife. Her face was almost trancelike and she seemed to float across the hardwood floors. She walked towards the staircase as if there was something there that would be of great interest to her.

"Christine, are you alright?" he asked quietly, taking a step forward to resume his place beside her.

"I want to see her."

Christine's voice was stripped of all emotion which made Raoul feel dreadfully uneasy. Her eyes still were locked firmly on the staircase and desperately wanted her to look at him.

But he was also terrified of meeting her eyes. He was terrified to see what lay behind her haunted eyes.

Death is a funny thing after all and Raoul didn't know how Christine was going to react to it.

"My dear, I don't think that is a very wise decision. I fear the sight will…"

"I want to see her." Christine repeated, adding an edge to her voice that Raoul was not familiar with.

Raoul gave a weak nod and placed a strong hand on the small of her back to lead her up the staircase. Something strange was happening to Christine and he didn't know how to explain. He feared what would become of her if he did not oblige.

Christine's feet padded along the dark hallway. A feeling of heaviness hung around her shoulders, she felt as though she were carrying a burden that she could not rid herself of. Something that was too terrible to speak aloud, something that no one could ever know.

Josephine had died.

The Baby had died.

Christine hadn't had the courage to enter the room when they had been alive. She hadn't had the courage to help one of the people who had been so kind to her when she had entered their family, and accepted her despite her strange past. She hadn't had the courage to do all those things and she'd be damned if she didn't have the courage to say goodbye.

Christine paused hesitantly outside the large oak door. She knew that that solid door was the barrier between life and death. Raoul studied her face from beside her and it was completely devoid of all emotion.

"Are you sure Christine?"

Christine didn't reply but let the door swing open.

The room was encased in a pitch black layer; a single candle was lit on the bedside table, illuminating only a few inches around where it stood. The entire room held an atmosphere of stress and sweat, but an eerie silence pierced through Christine like a knife.

Raoul's eyes didn't stray from Christine's face.

"She's over there," he weakly gestured to the bed and his eyes were once again flecked with tears.
Christine's eyes locked onto the form that lay beneath the covers on the bed. She lay motionless and her face was set in a straight line that was almost grim. Christine noticed that she had been cleaned up, the covers were folded beneath her arms and her hair had been brushed off her face.

Christine hesitantly knelt beside her and let her eyes trail over her lifeless figure. Her skin was such a ghostly pale white that it almost matched the color of Christine's own skin.

Raoul watched from behind her, he felt the urge to say something. To offer some comfort. But he hadn't the slightest idea what he could possibly say to make Christine feel any more at ease.

He could hardly control his own aching heart.

"Josephine," whispered Christine, her voice giving out before she could say more.

Christine raised a shaky hand and laid it atop her friends. Quickly she recoiled as the coolness passed from Josephine's to her own.

Christine felt oddly numb to the sight of a dead friend. No tears welled up in her eyes, nor did they have the desire to. Her eyes passed over the end of the bed and rested upon the wooden bassinet that lay in the corner of the room.

Raoul's eyes followed where Christine's head was angling. His heart stopped beating when he saw her stand and walk towards the bassinet. Instantly his limbs sprang into action and he was beside her. He placed a frantic hand on her should trying to force her back to the doorway.

"Christine please don't. I beg of you, it is too much. It's too horrible. Please, let us go home in peace…Christine….Christine!" Raoul pleaded, trying with all his will to force her away from the place where the baby rested.

Christine said nothing but continued to shake off her husband frantic beckoning. She stood over top the cradle and took a deep breath. She had to know. She had to know of the child that should have been born.

Christine lowered her eyes to where the body lay resting.

Her heart stopped.

Her face paled.

She saw no more.

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"Monsieur de Changy, I just came round to say I am very sorry for your loss."

Raoul looked up from his morning newspaper and gave a small smile to the solemn man that stood in his doorway.

"Good Morning Christophe, Thank you for your kind words. Josephine was very dear to me…"

Christophe nodded his head slowly and walked to sit beside Raoul.

Christophe was involved in the running of the Opera House where Christine worked. Raoul had wanted to keep an eye on Christine as she worked. He didn't want to think of it as spying. He was just very concerned about his wife's health and felt much more at ease with someone he could trust keeping an eye on her.

"How is Madame de Changy doing?" he asked quietly, noticing the lack of Christine's presence.

Raoul closed her eyes and took a deep breath before answering him.

"She's coping." He said gravely before turning the conversation back into more joyful manners.

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Christine sat on the large bed that occupied the bedroom. Her eyes were fixed upon the opposite wall, and were glazed as if her mind was lost in deep thought. But no thoughts ran through the head of the once vibrant young woman.

Her stomach ached with hunger and her limbs pounded with weakness but she did not move to satisfy her cravings. She didn't eat most of the time. The mere thought of food made her feel nauseous. On many occasions Raoul had tried to get her to eat, but she always refused. Her dear husband was stubborn but he also held a great deal of respect for his wife.

That may become his undoing.

Only once had he lost his temper when she had refused to eat supper for the umpteenth time. Raoul had threatened to force feed her the bread before he would give up.

That was as bad as it had been.

Christine didn't sleep either.

She didn't like the images that stole away her mind when she did. So she resolved to not burden herself further by not sleeping. When she did sleep it was a light and uneven that only lasted for an hour at the most.

Her lessons with Helen continued to progress, though Christine did not try and fake a happy face in front of her student. She had lost all will to make a person believe something that wasn't real.

Helen's voice was progressing and the rehearsals were going smoothly. Christine enjoyed the hours she spent at the Opera House. It was the only time she got out of bed. When she returned home from rehearsals she would promptly return to the bedroom and stare into blank nothingness until it was time for Raoul to turn in.

That was how her life worked.

The performance was in a mere week.

Once that was over Christine didn't know what would happen. She had no desire to go anywhere. Her Opera House visits were based more on a sense of duty then anything else. She had told those girls that she would be there to help them prepare for the show and she couldn't bring herself to disappoint them. But after that duty had vanished she would inevitably spend all of her time in the confines of her room.

Her mind span with multiple visions and memories. They all ran together so much that Christine had a hard time distinguishing them all. They were just a blur of faces and colors. Deep reds, blacks, roses, snowflakes, bells, warmth, happiness but also an immense feeling of pain, of betrayal, of hurt.

Christine sighed and lay down on her back. Her vision fixing upon the ceiling.

She was quite sure that she would stay there for quite some time.

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The theatre was buzzing with activity. Stagehands were running to and fro, cast members where in a mad panic trying to fix their costumes or do their hair. The curtain opened in mere hours and none of them seemed to be the least bit prepared.

"Gabrielle! Gabrielle!" yelled Madame Amedee running over to where her pupil was trying desperately to pull the ballet tutu over her mop of black hair.

"Yes Madame?"

"No, you must pull this up the other way. We don't want you to rip it. Here..."

Madame Amedee finished helping Gabrielle into her costume and then immediately turned away to bark orders at another group of people who were loitering by the stage.

"Don't just stand there!" she shrieked, causing the group to jump "Come now, make yourselves useful."

The group passed disgruntled glances in between one another before reluctantly walking away from their position. Madame Ameedee let out a long sigh and sank herself down into one of the theatre chairs. She put her head forward in her hands and tried to right her overactive mind.

"This performance will be the death of me."

"Madame?"

Madame Amedee looked up at the soft voice that had broken her from her troubling thoughts. Christine de Chagny stood in front of her. Her cheeks looked hollow and colorless and her hair hung limply around her shoulder. Madame Amedee couldn't help but feel a tad bit guilty about letting Christine come everyday to help her work on the show. It looked as if the poor dear needed some proper rest. But she was so desperate for help that she was glad that she hadn't stopped coming. It looked as if they would all die from the stresses of the performance.

"Thank Goodness you're here Christine. Oh this is a disaster! Chantal's dress ripped right up the back, one of the directors called in sick and a stage hand said he's put the finishing touches on the set but he's disappeared! He's gone. I can't find him anywhere. We can't go on without sets. It's over Christine. All over...We can't do it...We'll never"

"Don't be silly Madame," Christine said, cutting her off from her long rant of troubles "Everything will be fine. I just saw a young man finishing the sets, Chantal's dress can be fixed in only mere moments and we have nearly an hour before the curtain opens. Don't worry, everything will be fine."

Madame Amedee let out a long breath to steady herself for she was beginning to feel dreadfully lightheaded.

"Thank you Christine, I wish I could be as together as you are. Listen to be going on and on...No you're right everything will be fine."

Christine offered her a weak smile before she disappeared around the corner to bark orders at another one of the dancers.

I wish I could be as together as you are

"Oh Madame..." whispered Christine under her breath "If you only knew..."

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People began to file into their seats, programs in hand. The night had the potential to be a splendid one. Every audience member seemed to be in good spirits as they entered the building. They talking gaily about fashion horrors, economic troubles, work, love, and gossip and seemed to be expecting the performance to be of the best quality.

Christine walked into the theatre and scanned the room for her husband. She spotted him a few rows down sitting beside a rather large woman, with a pudgy face and a tendency to talk too much. Christine approached him and sat on his other side.

Raoul excused himself from the conversation and gave Christine a very grateful smile. She knew what he was thinking however. Raoul had suggested that they purchase a box for the performance as they could easily afford it. She remembered he had said,

"It will provide us a comfortable viewing of the performance away from the annoying voices of the prestigious upper class."

Christine, however, had refused such a thing. She had no desire to watch the performance from a box. Raoul had asked her for an explanation which she refused to give. But she had offered him the fact that the chances of them ending up sitting beside a gossiping, snobbish woman were very low.

Though it seemed that the chances were better then she had originally predicted.

"Hello Christine,"

"Good evening Raoul."

They were both encased in a silence that Christine couldn't bear to stand. She let out a breath of relief when the lights dimmed and the overture started.

Her stomach fluttered with butterflies. Even though she was not performing on that night she felt as if a part of her was being put on display in front of all those people. She had sworn that she had the expertise and experience to train Helen to be the diva, the star. She was indirectly affected by her failure or her success. She worried about her.

She worried that she would forget her stage direction, or that she would forget the turn they changed in the second act. She was afraid that her voice would crack, that she would forget her lines, that she would let her incurable nerves overwhelm her and just stand there open mouthed in the midst of the opera.

Had he worried about all those things the night she had preformed Hannibal?

No he hadn't.

He had had complete confidence in her skill and her ability. He had known that she would shine; he had known that she would captivate the audience with her beauty and sweet tone. Christine couldn't help but feel ashamed that she didn't have the same amount of esteem with her pupil.

The curtains opened slowly on cue and Christine waited in baited breath as Helen walked onto the stage.

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The curtains drew closed in a final sweeping crescendo and Christine felt her heart burst with absolute pride. The performance had not gone without errors. Christine made a mental note to remind Cicly of her role on the stage and the place of the props. But all in all the performance had been...magnificent.

Helen had managed the role with such grace that Christine had felt small tears well in the corner of her eyes. Her notes had been spot on and she had sung with a confidence that Christine didn't know she possessed. Not only that but she hit the note at the end that she had worried about so much.

Raoul turned and smiled at her "Well done Christine. You sure know how to put on a show."

Christine gave him an appreciative smile.

They rode in the carriage side by side. Christine let her head rest upon Raoul's shoulder as it ran smoothly to their household.

They talked about the performance, about the good things about the bad things. Christine shared some of the information of the hectic preparation and they even allowed a few breaths of laughter to emit into the conversation.

Raoul closed her eyes and took a deep breath. He tried to memorize the feeling of her hair caressing his chest; he tried to memorize the feeling of content ness. The feeling of happiness. It had been so long that Christine had talked to him about her thoughts, about how she actually felt about things.

Fueled by a force Raoul could not name he gently placed a hand under her chin and lifted it to meet his own. He hesitated before placing his lips stonily upon her own.

Christine allowed him to do so.

Suddenly a searing pain in her chest caused to gasp in horror and break the kiss. She grasped her chest and let in a slow rattling breath.

God, she couldn't breathe!

She raised her eyes to Raoul who was watching her with a very worried expression. His eyebrows were creased and an air of sadness hung around him because of the abrupt ending to their kiss.

"Christine...I'm sorry for being so forward...I just..."

Christine turned her head to the ground, her eyes closing tightly as another piercing pain streaked through her chest.

"Christine?" he asked worriedly as she drew a shallow breath.

"Christine are you..."

She opened her eyes and tried to speak. But before she managed to say anything her eyes rolled up to the back of her head and she collapsed in a heap on the carriage seat.

"CHRISTINE!" Raoul shouted, cradling her limp body to his own.

"STOP THE CARRIAGE!" he hollered to the driver "FOR GOD'S SAKE, STOP THE CARRIAGE! CALL A DOCTOR! DO SOMETHING!"

The carriage shrieked to a halt and Raoul kissed Christine's jaw line in a hopeless attempt to revive her.

"Christine?" he asked softly "Oh Christine...I'm sorry...I'm so sorry..."

He cradled her limp body and rocked her to and fro, letting tears spill from his eyes and onto his cheeks.