Didn't Raoul understand how much she was having to go through with raising a

son? No, he didn't know and not just because she had kept truths secret from him - but because he was never around. He made himself busy with politics from morning till evening and when night fell he was absent until he came tumbling in just a few hours before dawn. Drunk, hysterical, and barely able to get himself into bed.

Even then Christine would prove herself a diligent wife, helping to pull his

shoes off and strip him down to a comfortable layer of clothing and convince him to get into bed. He would mumble complaints to her until he finally fell asleep. Most complaints were to do with her and her various crimes against their marriage.

Little did he seem to realize, as morning dawned, that Christine had been the

one to get him into bed safe and sound. By the time he finally pulled himself

out of bed, Christine was busily tending to Gustave. She had slept as little as

he had. Not that he seemed to care as he carried on with the same pattern of

life.

If Christine could be distant, so could he. But he didn't seem to comprehend the paradigm. The more distant he grew towards Christine because of her increasing distance, the more distant she became. His frustration towards her only fueled her irritation.

But she still, foolishly, loved him. She had taken the duty of caring for not

just one child, but two. Raoul didn't realize what sort of state he returned to their bedroom in. It would be impossible for her to sleep though his

histrionics. And his late evenings kept her up, worrying about his sorry self, until he returned.

And how did he repay her? With a cold shoulder and an irritate glare. There was no love on his part, at least not what she saw. He was merely tolerating her.

She was dealing with him and he was tolerating her.

Raoul had become a man that she did not even recognize. He didn't attempt to

disarm his siblings when they sought to torment his wife. Instead, he watched as he sipped in brandy like he was watching a losing badminton game. Christine was no match, tired and worn thin from long days and nights, for the cruel sibling duo.

Some nights the drunken Raoul would curl himself up so close to her that she

couldn't turn over. He would cry into her shoulder or burry his face in her

bosom like their infant. He was a pitiful sight a doubt his tender moments of weakness were what continued to draw him to her. She saw his weakness and wanted to help. She wanted the boy she once knew to come back.

But he was long gone. Replaced was a drunkard with a nasty temper and a short

patience.

~o~

Meg Giry was not what he would call talent. Yes, as big Fleck and Gangle had

pointed out, Meg had a beautiful dancer's body and her voice was passible for a chorus girl. But, Meg was not the singer and dancer was portraying on stage.

She love the hoots and hollers were for her performance, when the men were

simply cheering about her state of undress. So much bare skin dancing around on stage would entertain any man.

Except for Erik who stifled a yawn as he watched. He didn't want his name

attached to sub cheap garbage.

Without Christine's voice - there was no music that would please him. Everything was empty. There was no life in his melodies an lyrics. There was only simple notes strung together to create a song that could have been either beautiful or not.

That was why he had drawn away from the same sort of music that he once wrote. It was nothing now.

"Master," Fleck started turning to look at the masked man from their hidden

seats beneath the shadow of the balcony.

"Yes?"

"Gangle and I are going to retire. We have little taste in this."

"But soon you both will have an act before this and will introduce Miss Giry to the audience."

Gangle chuckled, "Then, until that time we seek escape!"

"Lucky." Erik laughed darkly as the couple escaped into the shadows. He was not allowed to leave. Not if he desired the Girys to continue their persistent work. They were useful. He was no fool when it came to manipulating people to do his bidding. Kindness and toleration would go a long way. And if he expected his dreams to become real it was necessary for him to be a humble servant to the ballet mistress and her pitchy daughter.

Escape was not his only jealousy. Their disfigurements were not as terrible as they perceived them to be. They had found a romantic solace in each other and he had no one. He was left alone.

No, he had left Christine. Not the other way around. Tearing himself away from her soft, nearly virgin flesh, had been painful. That evening they had both lost themselves to each other. Christine hardly batted an eye when it came to their union.

She was married now. No doubt smitten by the Vicomte and happy in his warm

embrace. He was a whole man who could provide everything to her.

~o~

"Raoul please, don't go out tonight." Christine begged, catching her husband's arm as he brushed by.

"Christine." Raoul tried to shake her hold off of him. "I have to leave now. I'm late. We can talk about this later."

"No we can't. You leave for work, come back in time for dinner and vanish for the evening. I don't want to have to worry another night."

"There's no need for you to worry, I can take care of myself."

"But I do. You don't see yourself when you finally tumble back. I'm sure you don't even believe me when I say that I wait up until you're back. But my work doesn't end there. I wait for you so I can disrobe you, help you into our bed, and calm your histrionics so we can both sleep for the few hours we have left in the night."

Raoul's expression softened, he stepped towards her and stroked her cheek. She flinched away at first, and he frowned, but when she looked up at him with doe like eyes his expression changed again. "Oh, Christine."

Christine rose up on her tiptoes and kissed Raoul, tasting brandy on his lips. Had he honestly gotten up in the morning and drunk more? She didn't dare mention it, fearful that he'd be furious with her.

Raoul's kiss deepened and he stepped them back until she pressed against the wall. He inwardly laughed when he felt her breath catch in her chest and her hold on his arm tighten. She didn't dare to fight his hold completely. His hand slid down her arm, ghosting across the curve of her bosom, and resting at her hip.

Christine pulled back, fighting to look easy with this situation. "Aren't you late?" She attempted to chuckle but Raoul's hot and angry glare stifled it. "I'm only joking Raoul."

"I am late." He hissed, kissing her with bruising force, before pulling back and leaving abruptly.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she sank to her knees. She tried so hard to be there for him, to be a loving wife. She never knew her own mother; she never had a suitable example of motherhood and being a wife. Her father had been the only parent she ever knew and Raoul was no equal to the love and the kindness and the patience that the Danish violinist had had for Christine.

She had promised her father that she would marry a man just like him, but she hadn't. If she had she would have married the father of her child. He had had all the kindness and the patience and the music that her father had. Even if he didn't seem to be a kind and patient man, he was. Even when Christine tried his patience and he lashed out, he would always apologize and try to reconcile.

He had never left open wounds like Raoul did with his vanishing acts and cruel tones. But she was set in this life and could never escape. She felt sympathy for Raoul that she misunderstood as love. It wasn't love, but she wished it was.

~o~

A/N: This story nearly wasn't posted. I nearly died last night.

I was returning a cart in a parking lot, walking back towards my car. When suddenly the belt on my dress got hooked to a protruding edge of the car I was passing. Hooked, I stopped, fighting with my tie to get myself loose.

As a car sped out of the empty spot mere inches in front of me where I would have been standing. I wouldn't have seen the car as I stepped out in front of the vehicle.

I thank God that my guardian angel managed to snag my attention and hold me back.

But I came home and after trying to sleep for an hour, I typed this WHOLE chapter on my iPHONE and emailed it to myself to post today. 1.5k written on a phone!