CHAPTER 4—C'EST LA VIE

March 1878

The opera house built by Charles Garnier was truly a work of art. It had been nice to be snuck in well before the production started as not to alarm anyone with his presence, but Erik had made his way in. Next to him, Jacqueline was looking over the program.

"I can't believe we haven't seen this yet." Glancing over, Erik hid a smile as Meg slid into the box, dragging Luc behind her. "Carmen has been out for two years, and everyone's been talking about it, and we're just now seeing it!"

Reaching around, Luc held out his hand, and Erik shook it. "Good to see you, Erik."

Erik nodded and smiled as Meg waved slightly, smiling, and deposited herself in a seat next to Jacqueline. Luc seemed quite content to drown out the womens' conversation, and he handed Erik a cigar.

"We just got here and she's already on the subject of shoes." Luc shook his head. "How've you been? I hear your office just got quite the proposal."

"Build a new school in two years?" Erik shook his head and blew a smoke ring. "Obviously, we're still in negotiations."

Luc laughed. "If they don't build it, they don't have a clue as to how long something like that can take."

"What about you? I hear you had a little incident last week?"

"A woman came in—I'm quite sure not quite right in the head, you know. Wants to know if she can sue a dog for shitting on her front stoop." Luc rolled his eyes. "Took three of us to restrain her when she started screaming about her stoop being the only stoop to have been defecated on, that she was going to sue every dog in Paris..."

By now, Erik was laughing heartily. "We get our share of the crazies," Erik said, "but I think your dog lady takes the cake."

Glancing over to make sure that the women were engaged in conversation, Luc reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a flask. Quickly, he took a swig before handing it to Erik.

"And once again, no husband." Luc was looking across the auditorium, a bit of disgust lining his face. Frowning, Erik followed his gaze.

In a box opposite them, Christine de Chagny was sitting alone in a box, her maid at her side. Luc had managed to figure out that the maid's presence meant her husband was once again away on business some time ago, and he always made a point of bringing it to his wife's attention.

After puffing at his cigar for a moment, Luc leaned forward. "Meg!" When she turned, he jerked is head, and Meg looked over to Christine.

Huffing slightly, she sat back in her seat, crossing her arms. "Once again, he's probably in Rome or London or somewhere very far away."

Jacqueline, always the problems solver, patted Meg's hand. "Maybe they're having money problems. Lots of these nobles nowadays have some kind of financial difficulties."

"It's not that. Christine told me that he's made enough on his own now that they've already set aside Emma's dowry, and a trust fund for both her and Christine." She scowled down at her knees. "He's completely spineless! Whenever Philippe has to leave for something, he tells Raoul that he requires his company, and Raoul doesn't even fight him! Never mind that he has a lovely wife and a beautiful child at home."

Erik snorted into his champagne, and a bit of it went down his throat wrong. He coughed heavily, trying to clear his wind pipe, and took another sip of champagne. Jacqueline patted his knee.

"Careful, darling, mirth can take us to the edge."

The group of them laughed, but their laughter died down as the lights went down and the production began.

By intermission, Meg and Jacqueline were on the edges of their seats, enraptured by the show, and Luc and Erik were slightly tipsy from the rum that had been going back and forth between them. When Jacqueline realized this, she rolled her eyes at Meg.

"Shall we leave the boys to their vices? I need to stretch my legs."

Meg, however, was frowning across the room again. As one, three heads turned and they saw that Christine's box was empty and that an usher was clearing things up.

"Wonder where she went." Luc stretched his arms over his head. "Never seen her leave an opera early."

"And it's Carmen! She's been dying to see it for ages!" Meg's frown deepened into one of more concern than anger.

There was a knock, and an usher came in. "Madame Cartier?"

Meg stood up. The usher handed her an envelope, which Erik noticed had the de Chagny coat of arms on it. As the usher took his leave, Meg slid the envelope open and pulled out a small piece of paper. Her eyes widened and she put a hand over her mouth, looking horrified.

"Oh, my God," she whispered. She looked up, staring blankly forward, tears forming in her eyes. Looking concerned, Jacqueline took the letter from Meg. As her eyes scanned the page, a look of horror came over her face, as well.

"How horrible," she whispered.

"I feel terrible," Meg choked out. Jacqueline wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I've been sitting here calling him spineless and whatever else!"

"What's the matter?" Luc looked a bit worried. "Is Christine alright?"

"It's not Christine," Jacqueline said softly. "It's her husband."

Later that evening, Meg, Jacqueline, Luc, and Erik sat around the fire in the sitting room. Luc's face was blank as he stared into the flames, and Jacqueline's eyes were red and puffy. She dabbed them again with Erik's handkerchief. Looking down, she reread Christine's first letter and the second letter that had arrived minutes ago.

"Should we go over?" Luc's voice was hollow. "She shouldn't be alone right now."

"Philippe is over there, isn't he?" Erik slid a bit closer to Jacqueline, wrapping his arm around her waist.

"Fuck Philippe," Jacqueline growled, taking Erik slightly aback. "This is his fault. I don't know how she could stand to look at him."

The sound of the door chimes met their ears, and the three of them jumped. Standing, Luc left the room to see who was at their door. A moment later, they could hear footsteps in the hall and Luc's voice calling for Meg. She had been lying on a divan, but she leapt to her feet, rushing from the room. Straining his ears, he could hear crying, and Luc say, "I'll take her upstairs and get her something to drink."

"Are you hungry, petit? I have biscuits, does that sound good?"

Meg came back into the sitting room carrying a little girl with curly hair. Her face was buried in Meg's neck. Crossing to a small table, Meg opened a tin containing some sweet biscuits, and she took one out before sitting back down, the little girl in her lap. She made no move to take the sweet from Meg, who looked slightly tearful.

"Help me," she mouthed at Jacqueline, but it was Erik who came to her aid.

Kneeling next to Meg, he glanced up at her for a moment before turning his attention to the little girl. "Emma? Do you like magic tricks?"

Emma's head turned slightly, still cradled against Meg, but looking at Erik now. He waved an empty hand in front of her, reached behind her head, and pulled out a large silver coin. He handed it to Emma. She stared at it for a moment, and while she was looking at it, he slid the biscuit from Meg's fingers.

Another wave of an empty hand, and magically, the biscuit appeared. He handed this to Emma, as well, and she took it from him and began to nibble at it. He patted her head and went back to sit next to Jacqueline, who took his hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze.

No one saw much of Christine for the next several days. She stayed shut in the guest room, and Erik and Jacqueline visited, bringing with them Nadine, who played dress up with Emma.

On the fifth night of her haunting of Meg and Luc's house, Erik stepped out after dinner for a bit of fresh air and found Christine looking over the edge of the balcony. Gingerly, Erik grasped her shoulder and pulled her back, sitting her in a chair.

"You won't do Emma any good if you go through with it, you know." He handed her a brandy. "I thought you could use something strong."

Christine's eyes did not move as she took the glass from him. It was startling how much older she looked. There were dark circles under her eyes, which were puffy. Her hair was lank and matted in places. Her black dress was buttoned up to her neck and she was pale in its contrast. Gone was the little girl he had once watched from a distance. She had been replaced by by a dreary widow, always dressed in black.

"The funeral is the day after tomorrow."

Her voice was more shocking than her appearance. It was rough and raspy, and softer than usual. For a moment, Erik wondered how long she had cried, and how hard. She was still staring blankly ahead, and she took a sip of brandy, wincing slightly.

"Thank you for bringing Nadine." She sipped her brandy again, tearing her gaze away from the void she had been studying to look up at him. "I don't think Emma even knows what is happening."

"She won't remember it," he said softly. "Consider it a blessing in disguise."

"But she won't remember him, either." She sniffed and dabbed her eyes. "She'll never remember what it was like to have a father." Taking another drink, she sighed softly. "I'm not sure what to do. I want Emma to feel normal, but I don't think I'm ready to go back to Rouen yet."

"Stay in Paris." Erik leaned against the railing. "No one will begrudge your company for a few months."

"Meg's already asked me to stay here." She finished her brandy and set the glass down beside her. "I think I will."

"The change of scenery will be good for you."

Christine was staring at her void again. Erik made to go inside, but she began speaking again, softly, more to herself than to him, and he paused.

"Philippe said he was trying to hurry him up to get home. He said he wanted to be back in time for our anniversary. They were running to catch the train." Christine's eyes closed, but tears still leaked from the corners. "Philippe made it on, but Raoul's foot got caught on something, and he fell. The doctors weren't sure if he felt anything." Her eyes suddenly opened and met Erik's for the first time in years. "Are you happy?"

Erik blinked. "Am I... I'm sorry, what?"

"Are you happy. You know, with your life."

Erik thought for a moment. Other than the discomfort of the people around him, he was happy. He had a wife that, although he wasn't sure if he loved, he cared for deeply, and a beautiful child. His career was enjoyable and he was successful, well off, and comfortable in a large house just outside the city. He nodded. "I suppose so."

Christine nodded, then turned back to her void. Erik waited for a moment to see if she would say anything else. When she did not, he turned, and went back inside.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The funeral two days later could not have been more bleak. People dressed in black filed into the church, whispering quietly about how horrible Raoul de Chagny's death was, and how horrible that he had left behind a wife and small child. A light drizzle fell outside, the sky as gray as steel. Some of the people filing in were crying, others looking as if they might, but Christine could not cry anymore. She wasn't sure she had anymore tears.

Emma was seated in her lap, and Christine pressed her cheek against the little girl's curls. She was holding a doll that had been given to her by Raoul the last Christmas, and she was looking around, not comprehending why so many sad people were gathered together.

On her left, Philippe and his wife held hands while Philippe's head hung. She knew he was hiding tears. His wife's tears flowed freely down her cheeks. On her right, Meg sat with Luc and her mother, who had come out with her arthritis in the rain to be there.

A flash of white caught Christine's eye, and she turned to see Erik with his wife and daughter. Nadine was sitting in her father's lap, dressed in a black dress and black shoes, and she was fidgeting with the lace at her wrists. Erik leaned down and whispered something to her and she rested her head on his chest. Next to them, Jacqueline was gazing at their daughter, running her hand over the little girl's head.

Christine tore her gaze away as the ceremony began. She listened to the sermon on how death was just the next step in life, but she couldn't help but feel that death had taken her husband too soon. Looking down at Emma, she felt the tears come as she realized yet again that her daughter would never know her father. Raoul wouldn't see her as she grew into a young woman, wouldn't have a conversation with her, wouldn't walk her down the aisle of this church...

Tiny fingers followed tears down her face, and she clutched Emma to her as she stood up, rushing from the sanctuary. She rocked back and forth in the vestibule, holding Emma close, pressing kisses against her dark hair.

A hand rested on her shoulder, and she turned to see, of all people, Luc. He peeled Emma from her, whispering for her to go sit with Aunt Meg, and when she was gone, he gathered Christine in his arms.

"Meg and I are going to be there for everything," he murmured. "We'll be there when she trips and skins her knee. We'll be there when she goes off to school. You're not alone, Christine. You have friends here." He kissed the top of her head. "You've been like a sister to Meg her entire life, and you've taken to me like a brother. Brothers protect their sisters."

The sobs that tore from her already sore throat hurt, but she leaned into Luc, taking this newfound brother in, the sturdy feel of him, and she felt safe for the first time in days.

Later, after the funeral and after the burial, Meg walked down the damp streets at her side, holding her hand. They did not speak, but they did not need to. Some bonds broke at the slightest pressure. The bonds of family, though—the bonds of sisterhood—took much more to break, and they were as sturdy as ever they had been.

a/n Whew! Heavy chapter. Hope everyone's holding on okay. I must pause to say thank you with the utmost meaning to fantomesrose for making me giggle a bit with her last review at my own wit. I love you all!

On a more serious note, this chapter is dedicated to anyone who has ever lost someone. I've been there. I've been Christine losing control and crying when you realize that you'll never run a track meet with your teammate again. I've been at the funeral when you know your best friend will never be the same after her boyfriend's death, and you'll never see him in those cowboy boots again. I've seen when your sister cries at the loss of her best friend, who made her laugh, and you feel completely helpless. I love you.

In loving memory of Elissa, Lindsey, Zachary, and Clint, and the countless others. Such is life. You were taken too soon.