"This is what it means...to be held...how it feels...when the sacred is torn from your life, and you survive. This is what it is to be loved and to know that the promise was when everything fell, we'd be held."

-- "Held" as performed by Natalie Grant

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Christine woke to the sound of a tormented wail coming from somewhere in her home. She could not place the location, but she knew the voice. Erik. She shifted slightly in the bed, and suddenly there was a throbbing between her legs. She winced in pain and gritted her teeth, realizing what the doctor must have done to prevent an infection. I wish this were only a nightmare. She laid a warm palm across her middle. My baby...our baby...is gone. Oh, God...I feel so empty. Her lower abdomen cramped lightly as she listened to the repeated wailing, which turned to weeping and then eventually faded out completely. She was jarred to her core at the sound of Erik's agony, and cried along with him, privately releasing her pain. "It's my fault," she whispered fiercely. "It must have been something that I've done! I…I must have caused this somehow. Or perhaps my body is just not strong enough to carry a child." Tears rolled between her lashes, her heart breaking at the thought of never giving birth. She tried to roll over to her side as her cramps grew more intense, and she grasped Erik's unoccupied pillow, pulling it toward her face to muffle her sobs. Suddenly, she felt a sickeningly warm gush of wetness between her legs and knew that she was bleeding. "Erik!"

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Erik was on his way to the bedroom when he heard Christine's panicked voice. He broke into a run down the hallway and threw open the bedroom door. "Christine? What is it? What's wrong?" He was breathing rapidly and staring at her, wild-eyed.

Her eyes were wide with fear. "I…I'm bleeding…and it hurts!"

He rushed to her side and threw back the blanket. Her nightgown was soaked through in one area and the blood had transferred onto the sheets. Erik was relieved to see that it was not a significant amount of blood, but he cast a concerned glance at her. "Just a moment…let me read the doctor's instructions." He furrowed his brow as he scanned the paper, scrutinizing the indications for the laudanum the doctor had left on the nightstand. Near the bottom, Doctor Farzin had written that bleeding was to be expected, but that it should not be excessive as to soak several changes of clothing, and that it should taper off in a few days. Erik also recalled what the doctor had said about fever…he would be sure to send for him if anything out of the ordinary occurred. Erik lifted a hand to Christine's forehead.

"No fever," he sighed thankfully. "And it appears that some bleeding is normal. He has left some medicine for any pain you might experience. You…you said that you are in pain?" He frowned as the tension in her face confirmed the fact. "Here, mon ange, let me get you some water. I'll be right back."

Christine watched him in silence as he rushed from the room. What would I do without him? He always seems to know what to do... She looked down between her legs. Sure enough, there was a dark red spot on her gown, as large as a dinner plate. Now I'll have to change my gown and the sheets, she thought, unnerved. "Is it not enough that I have lost my child? Must I also go through this physical ordeal?" she wondered audibly, staring hopelessly at the ceiling. "Why? All I wanted was to bear his child...to have a family with the man I love more than anyone else in this world! And now...what if I never will?"

Erik returned with her water and noticed her bloodshot, sorrowful eyes. He knelt at her side, setting the glass on the bedside table and pouring out a small amount of laudanum for her to take. She looked from the spoon to Erik's eyes with uncertainty.

"It's alright...just enough to help you sleep. This medicine can be overused and we will take care never to let that happen." He smiled slightly as she opened her mouth in response and took the medicine, scowling as she swallowed. He placed the glass of water to her lips, tipping it so that she could get a sip. "Let's get you changed now," he said softly, as if he had read her mind. "You just let me take care of everything, ma belle femme," he said, attempting to put on a brave smile for her benefit.

Christine blinked and tried to return a smile, but instead, she fought to hold back tears. Her breathing became erratic as Erik set her glass on the nightstand and slowly leaned in closer to her, brushing her hair from her forehead. "I…I love you, Christine," he whispered, unsure of what to say, and searching her face desperately for some point of emotional connection. "I wish…" he trailed off, looking directly into her eyes. Suddenly, his composure gave way and he sobbed, tearing his eyes from hers and laying his forehead on her shoulder. "Oh, Christine! I am supposed to protect you, but I couldn't! I couldn't prevent this from happening to you! You must know that I would do anything to spare you this pain! Anything!" He wept bitterly, his hot tears wetting her nightgown and the inside of his mask. She reached up, caressing the back of his head with her fingers and weaving them through his hair. For several minutes, they remained there until Erik felt Christine's chest trembling. He lifted his head and raised his bleary eyes to study her face. Her eyelids were tightly closed, and she was fighting her emotions as best she could. He rose, turning her head to face him and laying his forehead against hers. "My love, you must let it out. It's unhealthy to keep everything bottled within you."

Christine opened her eyes and vacantly stared at him. "Why should it matter what happens to me? I cannot bear you a child. I have surely lost the only one I will ever carry." She leaned back against her pillow and turned her face away from him.

He sighed deeply and whispered in her ear as he stroked her matted curls. I must be strong for her. "Christine, you are everything to me...and my darling, the doctor never said anything about you being unable to bear a child. It is a common thing for women to…for them to…" he stopped, unable to continue because of the unsteadiness in his voice. He cleared his throat. "Here. Can you sit up?" Keeping her eyes averted from his, Christine leaned up as best as she could and he carefully lifted her from the bed. Finding an unsoiled towel from when the doctor had visited, he threw it over the seat of the armchair in the corner of the room and gingerly settled her there. "Let me change the sheets, and then I'll get another gown for you, mon ange."

Christine felt sick to her stomach…not from the miscarriage alone, but because she was nearly helpless. She hated the feeling of being unable to care for her own needs, or her husband's. Here he is, she thought angrily, tending to my needs, when I should be healthy and pregnant and tending to his needs for as long as I am able. I can't stand to just lie here and do nothing! She wanted so desperately to busy herself with some household task to distract her mind from what had just occurred, but she knew it was not to be. She would have to sit and think…and grieve…

Erik returned with clean sheets and stripped the bed, cleaning the soiled spot and covering the large part of the mattress with thick towels. He replaced the bloodstained sheets with soft, clean ones and smiled comfortingly at her as he strode to the wardrobe to retrieve a fresh nightgown. "I don't think that you should try to stand right now, mon ange, because of the bleeding…but perhaps if we work together, we can get you into some clean garments," he remarked, his eyes tender and sympathetic.

Christine nodded. He lifted her slightly from the chair so that she could raise her nightgown up to her hips, and as he set her back down, she raised her arms, attempting to pull the gown off by herself. Erik instructed her to relax, and he pulled the gown over her head and off her arms slowly. Christine instinctively moved to cover herself, and he ignored the gesture. He placed the clean nightgown over her head and attempted to work her arms into the sleeves. As he moved to lift her and place her back in the bed, she stopped him. "I…I'll need something…to keep from bleeding on the sheets, Erik." She glanced up at him, embarrassed and ashamed. He exhaled loudly through his nostrils.

"I'm sorry…I forgot. Just a moment." He seated her in the chair again and left the room briefly, only to return with several thick washrags in hand. "We…can purchase new ones later," he said flatly, brusquely placing them into her palms, his own hands clammy and trembling. "Are you ready now?"

She nodded.

He laid her on the sheets and she quickly put the washrags between her legs, feeling very self-conscious as she did so. "Are you comfortable?" he asked her.

"I think so. I...I'm sorry that I can't do this on my own."

Erikbalked at her unnecessary apology. "Christine, I am your husband and you are my wife...we are to care for each other in all things. And I have never minded taking care of you, mon ange." He paused for a moment and leaned down to caress her face. "There is something that I...I believe I am to share with you. But...I do not know if you are ready to hear it."

Christine sighed. "Erik...I don't know what I can hear or even think about right now, except for the fact that our precious baby is..." She trailed off, unable to even speak the word to her husband.

"But--"

"I just want to sleep. Please, could you just allow me to sleep for a while? I don't want to talk right now. Just hold me...I need you."

He moved to lay next to her on the bed. And yet...she had never felt more alone in her life. As grief gave way to exhaustion, she felt words again whispered in her heart, as she had heard in the organ loft weeks before... ""Let not your heart be troubled, nor let it be fearful. My grace is sufficient for you..." She vaguely felt her husband shift his weight beside her as his strong arms enveloped her in a comforting warmth. "I will never leave you nor forsake you. Trust in me." As sleep overtook her, she sensed another pair of strong arms...holding her...protecting her...beginning to heal the wounds that they themselves had allowed to occur.

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Her blonde curls gleaming in the sunlight, Angelique sat upon the garden bench of her future estate, lost in thought. She didn't hear husband-to-be approaching from behind.

"Pondering the mysteries of the universe again, my love?"

Raoul's voice had startled her, and she let out a small gasp. She turned to see him stifling a grin. "Raoul! I...you shouldn't sneak up on me like that!" She cast a sideways glance at him as she turned around again, gazing off into the distance.

"I didn't mean to frighten you, darling," he said, drawing near and resting a hand on her shoulder. "I wondered where you'd gone. My brother is to join us for lunch this afternoon. Had you forgotten?"

"Oh...is that this afternoon?" She smiled up at him as he came around the bench to seat himself beside her. "I suppose I had forgotten about that. I hope that this visit will be a more pleasant one. Did he invite himself again?" She gave him a wry, knowing smile.

"Naturally. He's still trying to convince me to abandon the Populaire." He shook his head with a sigh. "The materials have already been decided upon. I delayed the managers for as long as I could...I just couldn't decide whether to listen to my brother's advice. But I suppose...Ireally can't turn back now. Even if it isn't the wisest investment."

Angelique cast him a queer glance. "Why would you do it if it is unwise?"

Raoul looked deeply into her eyes, scrambling for an answer. "I...I just...can't let the managers down at this point."

"You're not beholden to them, darling. My father has had to make difficult choices such as this, but if he hadn't...I shudder to think of what might have happened to our family's finances. His instincts saved him from many an unsound business decision. Besides...you don't seem to act this way with any other investment or holding of which you've spoken. This seems more...personal, somehow."

Raoul quickly averted hisgaze from her, guilt churning in his gut. I haven't even told her. God, I haven't told her the reason why! I have to be honest...how can I build a marriage with her when I'm still holding on to...to... He fidgeted, wiping his sweaty palms on his thighs. "Angelique, I..." He paused, forcing himself to turn toward her. As he looked up, her warm blue eyes met his and he instantly felt at peace. I can't keep this from her. She has a right to know... "I think that I'm having some trouble letting go of the reconstruction efforts, because..."

Angelique squinted a bit, her eyes searching his face. She was growing more concerned with every breath. "What, Raoul? What is it?"

He spent the better part of an hour laying bare his soul before the woman he loved...the woman he had chosen to become his wife, and he prayed to God that he wasn't risking his entire future with her. As he finished, she was in tears. She had heard what she believed were exaggerated rumours of his past affair with a budding young opera singer...but now they were no longer rumours.

"Oh, Raoul...I don't even know what to say! Do...do you still...are you still in love with Christine Daae?" She raised a trembling hand to her throat, and Raoul silently cursed himself.

"It's Christine Durand, now. She's been married for...well, for several months."

Angelique stared at him, open-mouthed. He hadn't answered her question. Oh, God.

He studied her face for a moment before he realized the same thing. "Oh...oh, darling...I'm sorry. My answer is no. I am not in love with her. But I will always love her in some way. We were friends, and we obviously went throughsome hardships together. I thought that she was the one I was to spend my life with, but..." he smiled at Angelique. "But if I had married her, I never would have found you. When you came into my life, it was a miracle. I was headed down a path that would only have caused pain for myself and for Christine and her husband. And you are the woman that I love more deeply than I ever dreamed possible. My feelings for Christine were...well, they were just different. She was the damsel in distress, and I her rescuer. But after rescue was over, I found that she hadn't needed saving after all." He smiled. "You, my Angelique, my golden angel, are the woman who has made me a better man just by being beside me. I will love you for eternity." He reached for her hand and she grasped his, weeping openly. His own eyes beginning to grow misty, he leaned in and kissed her forehead. "I love you...I love you," he whispered to her, lifting her chin and bringing her lips to his in a kiss that revealed the truth of his declaration.

When tears were dried, a look of determination and certainty rested on Angelique's countenance. "Raoul," she spoke at last, her voice still raspy from weeping, "I want you to promise me something."

"Anything."

She chose her words carefully. "I want you to promise me that you will let go of your past so that we can move forward with our future, and build a life together."

"Of course, my love," he replied with tenderness in his eyes.

She fixed her pleading eyes upon his. "I...I want you to give up the reconstruction of the Populaire. For us."

His heart nearly missed a beat. He sat staring at her, as if time had frozen in place.

"If we are to have a family and a marriage that will stand the test of time, then you must let go of the things that bind you to Christine. My love, it is the only way." Her expression was sincere and full of adoration.

He sighed deeply and took her hands in his. "Then you have my word. I will speak to the managers tomorrow."

She smiled then, standing from the bench with her hands still in his. "Come...let's take a walk before le Comte arrives. Perhaps this time...his visit will be an agreeable one, hmm?" Raoul gave her a wink in response as they started off down the garden path, and the weight of the world seemed to have been lifted from him as he gazed upward. The sky had never seemed so blue before.

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A/N: I want to sincerely thank all of you who reviewed my last chapter. It was an incredibly difficult one for me to write. And it seems to have evoked some strong, even some angry, emotions in some of my readers. And I thank you for expressing those emotions to me, because as an author it lets me know that my writing is accomplishing what I've intended...making you identify with the characters, love and care for them, and feel something. I realize that it was most unexpected. However, I have attempted to make this story more than just a fairy tale..."angst" and "fluff" are both parts of life. We can't truly appreciate the good apart from the bad. Again, I thank you all for reading, and I do appreciate each and every review. Although I don't individually respond to a review unless I truly deem it necessary, I want you to know that I appreciate every single one.:) Thank you so much for taking the time to leave your comments.((HUGS))