Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or Elisabeth.

Chapter Six

Beate

The train jerked to a stop. Christine looked happily at the familiar land where she had spent her childhood. The setting sun set a beautiful light over the grass. All was so beautiful.

"Sweden!" Mamma Valerius exclaimed. "We're finally in Sweden!"

Christine gave Raoul's hand a quick squeeze. After surveying the landscape, he whispered in his wife's ear, "It's just as beautiful as you said it was." Wrapped in their own little cocoon of bliss, Christine, Raoul, and Mamma Valerius stepped off the train and started walking into the town ahead of them. Christine had practically forgotten about Erik, and she was more than happy to be on Raoul's arm. The last night had been magical. It had been quite easy to forget about Erik.

A young woman, about Christine's age, accidentally bumped into the couple.

"Förlåtelse jag," the young woman said as she bent down to pick up the things that had fallen out of the basket she had been carrying. The woman looked up at Christine, and stopped her busying hands. She studied Christine's face and then finally asked, in Swedish, "Christine Daae, is that you?"

Christine, in turn, also studied the woman's face before exclaiming in Swedish, "Beate! I'm so glad to see you again." The two old friends embraced. Raoul looked on quizzically, trying to make out the conversation.

When the embrace had ended, Beate noticed Mamma Valerius. "Mrs. Valerius!"

"Beate, dear girl!" the old lady replied.

Beate noticed Raoul and asked Christine playfully, "And who might this be?"

"My husband."

"Congratulations!" Beate addressed Raoul, "How did you meet Christine, sir?" She was met with a confused stare.

Christine tapped Beate on the shoulder. "You'll have to pardon Raoul, he doesn't speak Swedish. I met him in France."

"Oh." A clock chimed six o'clock.

"I didn't realize how late it was! We ought to sup."

"I'll take you to Papa's inn. You, your husband, and Mrs. Valerius can eat something and then get to bed." Beate added mischievously, "And I suppose you want two rooms?"

"Beate!" Christine exclaimed.

"I just thought that it was logical," Beate responded innocently. "Come on," she beckoned as she started down the street again." Mamma Valerius eagerly followed, and Christine grabbed Raoul's hand and brought him along.

"We'll have to teach you Swedish," she said.

"I believe that I have the best teacher I could ever ask for right here," Raoul replied, planting a soft kiss on Christine's cheek.

In no time, the small party reached the Crackling Hearth Inn. Beate burst into the inn's great room and boisterously proclaimed, "Papa, Mamma, look who turned up! It's no other than Christine Daae, or should I say, Christine…"

"de Chagny," Christine said.

"Christine de Chagny!" The two owners of the inn, Mr. and Mrs. Svanbäck scurried out from the back room where they'd been working. They were both quite stout and rather short, unlike their ravishing, tall daughter.

"Christine!" Mrs. Svanbäck exclaimed. She then turned to Mamma Valerius and cried, "Sassa!"

"This is wonderful," Mr. Svanbäck declared. "It shall be just like old times." He shot his daughter a puzzled look upon seeing Raoul.

"He is Christine's husband, Papa. You don't have to worry."

"Oh, good."

Mrs. Svanbäck said hospitability, "You must be famished. Come sit. I've just finished a batch of beef stew." The party obeyed. Beate started to sit opposite Christine, but Mrs. Svanbäck stopped her. "You still have work to do, Beate. To the kitchen!"

"Later, after supper, we'll talk," Beate said as she scooted off to the kitchen. A few minutes later she returned with three bowls of hearty beef stew, three glasses, and a small pitcher of water and placed them on the table.

"This is all so wonderful," Christine sighed.

"Yes," Mamma Valerius replied.

"Do you like it here, Raoul?" Christine asked.

"Yes." The truth was, Raoul felt a bit like a stranger in Christine's homeland. He didn't speak the language, and he didn't know anyone aside from his wife and her benefactress. It was like watching a play. Raoul could see all that was happening, but couldn't interact with the characters, who didn't know he existed. He was on the outside looking in, and he couldn't figure out how to get penetrate the thin glass partition that seemed to separate him from everyone else.

"Your husband is wonderful, so handsome," Beate said. The whole of the inn was asleep, and now only Beate and Christine remained awake. They sat at a table in the great-room talking in muted tones by the flickering light of a single candle.

"I love him so much."

"How did you come to marry him, Christine?" Beate asked. "I should like to know. I mean, I'm not getting any younger."

A grave pallor set over Christine's face. "What I am about to tell you, you must never repeat to any living soul. Will you promise me that?"

"Of course! When we were young, we always told secrets and I am yet to tell a single one of those."

"All right." Christine sighed. "I can't tell you. Surely, you will think me mad."

"Tell!"

"No, Beate…"

"Christine, you know that I would never think you mad for telling the truth."

"It's horrible, Beate!"

"What?"

"What I'm about to tell you."

"Was marrying Raoul so horrible?"

"No, but how I came about marrying him was."

"Tell!"

"All right…" And Christine spilled to Beate the horrific experiences she'd had at the Opera Garnier. Christine was so caught up in the terror, that she was unable to stop the saga and even told Beate about her recent experiences with Erik new incarnation. Beate quickly made the sign of the cross.

"Lord bless you, Christine! You can't just sit around and let this happen to you. I know just what shall free you from Erik's grasp, Christine."

"Please, Beate, no witchcraft."

"You'll have to trust me. What time is it? Darn, it's past midnight. Tomorrow night, at the stroke of midnight, meet me in the yard behind the inn."

"But Beate…"

"Trust me!"

Christine looked at the small mantle clock and sighed. She couldn't go out and meet Beate tonight. She knew that her friend planned to meddle with witchcraft. Not only was witchcraft a sin, but it could also be very dangerous if one didn't execute the spells correctly. What if Beate knew how to execute the spells flawlessly? Then Christine didn't want anything to do with her either. That would mean that Beate sold her soul to Satan. She just couldn't imagine her friend doing that, though. It was five minutes to midnight. If Christine were to go meet Beate in the back yard, she would have to go now. She decided not to go. She snuggled up to Raoul and went asleep after saying a quick prayer for Beate's safety.

Meanwhile, the frigid air was biting at Beate's ankles. She wrapped her thin shawl tighter around her. Christine would show up any minute. She knew it.

A blood-curdling scream pierced the air. Christine jerked up in bed. She had only been asleep for a few minutes.

"Christine? Christine, are you all right?" Raoul said anxiously.

"Yes, I am all right. Someone nearby isn't, though." She immediately thought of Beate.

"Stay here, Christine. I'm going to go see what's wrong." Raoul took his pistol from the bedside table and journeyed downstairs. A few minutes later he came up and said gravely, "Your friend, Beate, is dead."

A/N: Quick translation: Förlåtelse jag means Pardon me in Swedish. Thanks Inter Tran!

Please R&R! Flames are welcome!