A/N: Thank you all, for the reviews, the kind words and all the rest!! I will get around to replying to reviews at some stage but I'm so busy right now.

These chapters go up unedited as I simply haven't had time and I wanted to get them up this weekend.

RR and thank you all, as always

Chapter 21- Friends will be friends

Laurent took the tray of food from Scott's hands and placed it on the bedside table. Scott stood there silently, looking Laurent up and down, and Laurent wondered if he was assessing his wounds. He had lost track of how long he had been here, he spent a lot of time sleeping, and now he was worried.

Scott looked tired, and for the first time ever, Laurent thought that he looked old. He had dark circles framing his once piercing eyes, wrinkles had taken their place on his forehead and his skin seemed whiter than usual, paler.

'Are you feeling alright?' Laurent asked as Scott turned to leave.

Scott chuckled. 'I'm the doctor, remember?'

'I know,' Laurent said, wondering if this was the effect of denying his sister what she wanted. 'But you don't look at all well,'

'I've felt better,' Scott said, honestly. Laurent nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. Scott seemed to think for a moment and then, with a deep sigh, joined him.

'I appreciate all that you have done for me,' Laurent said, as softly as his gruff voice would allow. 'But if it is making you this ill...'

'It isn't your fault,' Scott said quickly.

'Of course it is,' he said. 'How long have I been here?'

'A few weeks,'

He nodded. 'Exactly,' he said. 'And this is not exactly what Antoinette wanted, is it?'

Scott shook his head, let it dip so that he was looking down at his own hands.

'Why has she let me stay here?'

'I asked her too,' Scott said. 'You were... are very ill,'

'It's obvious that you aren't sleeping,' Laurent said.

'Worry,' Scott grunted.

'Worry about what?'

Scott sighed. 'My marriage,'

'Then I will leave...'

'You're not well enough to leave,' Scott said. 'And besides, none of this is really your fault,'

Laurent frowned at him.

'We were... having problems before you came back,' he said. 'We thought that maybe the cracks were healing but... they're not and now, I don't think they ever will,'

'I'm sorry...'

'Be sorry for the things you have done in your life but not this Laurent,' Scott said firmly. 'You have many things to apologise for, too many to count, but this is not one of them,'

Laurent remained silent, biting back the sorry that had made it's way into his mouth.

'I won't tell you that your being here has helped, we both know what it's done,' Scott continued. 'But you can't be blamed for the rift in our marriage, it's not your fault... you have done exactly as we asked,'

Laurent nodded. The only thing they had asked of him was that he remain in this room while Antoinette was home, otherwise he could treat it like home. To be fair to Scott, Laurent had spent much of the time he had been here sleeping.

'Besides this,' Scott said, 'I was not the only one that asked if you could stay,'

Laurent smiled. 'Meg,'

Scott nodded. 'She loves her uncle,' he shrugged.

'I'm glad someone still does,' he said.

'Well,' Scott said. 'You haven't made it easy,'

'I know,' Laurent whispered as Scott slung an arm over his shoulder.

'I've known you since you were a boy,' Scott said, 'Antoinette she loved you so much... that was infectious, you were infectious... I always saw you as my son,'

'And now,'

'I still see you as my son,' he said simply. 'But Antoinette... I think she loves you, Laurent, deep down I think that she does but she... needs time,'

Laurent laughed. 'I don't think time is going to do it, do you?' he said. 'If we are being honest here,'

Scott shrugged his wide shoulders. 'Who knows what goes on inside that woman's head,'

Laurent pulled Scott into a careful hug, 'You can't help it can you?' he said.

Scott patted his back as they released each other. 'What?'

'Loving her,' he said.

Scott shot him a sad smile. 'I'll always love her,'

'So what are you going to do?'

'I don't know,' Scott said, sighing. 'I honestly don't,'

'She loves you...'

Scott shook his head. 'I don't know so much anymore,'

'She does,'

'You haven't seen us in years,'

'But I know,' Laurent said, with a confidence that came from knowing them so many years ago. 'She always loved you, she always will... you and Meg, you're her life... she would never let anything happen to you,'

'Maybe,' Scott said. 'But we're stuck in this... dip...'

'You'll work through it,' Laurent said.

'I want to,' he said. 'But I don't want her to stay out of duty, out of feeling that she has to... I'm not a dictator, she is not my property...'

'She knows that and you know what she's like,' Laurent said. 'If she wanted to go... she would be gone by now,'

Scott nodded. 'You should eat your dinner,'

'I will,' he said. 'After we talk...'

Meg wiped her brow, let her hair fall down over her eyes as she slipped her ballet shoes from her feet. She threw them under her chair and stretched back, arms in the air, taking a deep breath. It was the only break she was likely to get. That evenings closing of the opera had been brilliant to a near empty theatre, obviously word had not trickled out about La Carlotta yet.

She snapped her fingers and rolled her head around, freeing the muscles in her neck. This was how she ended every night, stretching and making sure her body loosened up. Muscles had a horrible tendency to ache after dancing if she did not do this. Her mother wandered past, her head down looking solemn, as she did a lot of the time lately. Meg began to wonder what had really gone wrong.

If she was pushed to think about it she would know that the problems had all started a long time before Laurent had come back home. She still called it his home, anyway, even if no one else did. It had not escaped her attention that her parents seemed to be arguing more and more, that the time they spent together was either in hostile silence or irritated with each other.

She decided that she needed a friend and so she pushed herself to her feet and took the back door into the corridors. Normally she did not like it down here, it was dark and musty, but since Christine had moved in it hardly seemed as bad. Still, she knew that she must be careful here, she knew that this was the Phantom's domain. It made her wonder why the ghost tolerated Christine's presence here, she was surely an intrusion, but she seemed happy.

As she approached the section with dressing rooms she heard a sound, a light sound, high. When she got closer to Christine's door she could make out singing, beautiful, soft singing. She stood at the door for a moment, frozen to the spot, unsure if she had ever heard anything quite so ... amazing. She closed her eyes and let the sound of her friends voice into her, the sound lifted her, made her heart thump.

Christine could sing.

Christine could sing better than anyone, any man or woman or opera star, that Meg had ever heard before. When the sound died down she heard the creak of Christine's bed and decided to knock at the door. It was a few moments before the door opened and Christine's dark eyes peered out at her through the gap.

'Hello,' she said, without opening the door any wider.

Meg frowned. 'What are you doing?'

'Resting,' Christine said, too quickly.

'I heard you singing,' Meg said, trying to peer around her into the room, Christine responded by edging the door closed a little more.

'I was,'

'You sound lovely,'

'Thank you,' Christine said and Meg saw a blush on her cheeks.

'Is there someone in there with you?' Meg asked, confused.

'No,'

'Then can I come in?'

'It's not a good time,' Christine said, a little sharply.

'Have I offended you?' Meg asked.

'Of course not,'

'Then why won't you let me in and why are you being so...'

'I'm sorry,' Christine said and the apology, to Meg's ears at least, sounded genuine.

'Who is in there, Christine?' Meg asked, again trying to look over her friends shoulder.

'There's no one here,'

Meg's frown deepened. 'Then why, again, can't I come in?'

'I'm tired,'

'You're lying,'

'Meg!' Christine said. 'That isn't at all nice,'

'But it's the truth,' Meg said. 'You were singing a moment ago...'

'Singing helps me to relax,'

Meg stared at her friend.

'Really, Meg,' she said. 'I'm just a little tired after the show,'

'So am I,' Meg nodded. 'But I wanted to visit with you, we haven't spoken properly in so long I was starting to forget what you sounded like,'

'I'm sorry,'

'Christine...' Meg said and paused. '... are you sure there is no one in there with you?'

Christine responded to this was a roll of her eyes and she opened the door wide, showing Meg the whole room. Meg took the opportunity to step inside, leaping past Christine. She giggled.

Christine smiled. 'I told you that I was alone,'

'It would appear that way,' Meg said, lifting her eyebrow at her friend then, quickly dropping to her knees and looking under the bed.

Christine just stood there giggled as Meg made a show of going around the whole room, checking the wardrobes, under sheets, behind things.

'You have escaped me this time,' Meg said, with her fist in the air. 'But I
will catch you...'

Meg collapsed on Christine's bed in fits of giggles and eventually it rubbed
on off her friend, who began to laugh too.

'You are so silly,' she said when she caught her breath. Meg smiled.

'Don't understand why you wouldn't let me in,' she said. 'I think you might
have had a man in here,'

Christine laughed again. 'Don't be so silly,' she scoffed. 'You already
looked around, how would he get out of here without you seeing?'

'Perhaps he's a very small man...'

Christine burst into laughter and the sound of it comforted Meg.

'So what are you doing here?' Christine asked.

Meg shrugged her shoulders, wondering what she should tell her. Not about
Laurent, that was certain. 'I just need a break...'

'From what?' Christine asked, sitting on the bed next to Meg.

'From...' She sighed. 'Home,'

'Why?'

'My parents have been fighting a lot recently,' she said, feeling a wave of
sadness inside her. 'A lot of arguing...'

'I had no idea...'

'I suppose being together for most of the time can take it's toll...'

Christine nodded. 'It looks as though it is taking it's toll on you too,'

'Sometimes it does,' she said. 'Tonight just happens to be one of those
times,'

Christine nodded and reached out to stroke Meg's back.

'It's just that I saw my mother after the show,' Meg continued, feeling that
she somehow needed to explain herself. 'She had her head down... she never
has her head down... she looked so very sad,'

'I noticed that too,' Christine said honestly.

'It hurts me to see her that way,' she said. 'And my father... he spends so
much time locked in his study alone,'

Christine remained silent, Meg knew that she was just letting her talk,
letting her get this off her chest. The concern in her friends eyes was
comforting. She knew that Christine could not do anything about her
situation but her, just sitting there listening, helped. To know that
someone was prepared to hear her, to hear what she had to say, to know that
someone actually care ... that was enough...

'I love them both so much,' Meg said, feeling the prickle of tears in her
eyes. 'I just... I know they love each other, Christine, I know they do,'

'I'm sure they do...'

'I wish they could work it out,'

'Maybe they're trying,'

Meg thought of Laurent, of the stand she and her father had taken about it.
Had her father given up trying?

'I suppose,' Meg said. Suddenly, with tears in her eyes, she felt a little
bit silly for pouring all of this out. She knew that her parents would try
to work things out, they would try to fight for their marriage...

She stood up. 'I had better get going,'

Christine nodded and she too, stood.

'I don't want them worrying about me, as well,' she said as she opened the
door and stepped out.

Before she left Christine pulled her into a tight hug and told her that she
was sure everything would be alright. Meg was not so sure but she had faith
in both of her parents.

Christine waved and Meg heard the door click shut behind her...

... and the sound of a man's voice coming from Christine's room.