A/N: This story is a sequel to In A Moment. I wrote it with kristygirl4u, with her writing for Christine and I for Erik. She also wrote Madame Giry in this chapter. If you haven't read In A Moment and have no intention of doing so, this takes place after the 2004 Phantom of the Opera film with Christine having married Erik. Thank you for reading, and we appreciate all reviews (:

The question that always remained was, 'How long is it going to last?' And honestly, that was a reasonable and quite rational question. The fact of the matter was that, no matter just how strong the tie was, how intense the feelings were, and how deep the love ran, the length of time could never be predicted nor measured.

Time was often of the essence, and time was always what was never enough. For Christine, she never had enough time to do all that she had planned to do. Instead, she did the things that which she did not intend to do, and still did them anyway. In fact, she did was had to be done, rather than what she wanted done. She had another person for which to care, and he was often put before herself. She knew that perhaps she should be taking better care of herself, and start doing the things she wanted, but that wasn't much like her. She loved making the people around her happy, because that made her happy.

Only, things now, they weren't making her too happy. She wanted to be, she really did. They were mostly making her sick. For a few months now, actually, Christine had been feeling rather weak, nauseas, and faint. But that had never stopped her from performing before, therefore, she refused to let this stop her from being the woman, the wife she was.

Erik had always been on his own, and he learnt to handle that. He had been confident he would be able to take care of someone else - he had dreamed of having a living bride for a very long time. However, perhaps he had overestimated himself. Certainly, he could provide the money, the shelter, the food - even gifts for his love.

But, dear God, she was sick and he couldn't take care of her now. He was sure it would pass and yet, it didn't. She stayed sick. And his beautiful, stubborn girl just kept trying to go about her day, take care of the house, make sure he was okay. She refused to stop and think about her health and he was at a loss of what to do.

At twenty-three, she was supposed to be in complete health, strong, and yet, she just...wasn't. And because Christine normally wasn't a girl who would give in to vulnerability, she fought it. As she constantly did, in the internal battle she had every day within her, wondering if her life was as it should be. She wouldn't trade it for the world, but then again - she already had the world, whose eyes were always looking out for her.

One day, it was just too much. She'd run to the market more than just a couple of times that day, and for most of the rest, she made sure the house was spotless. (Not much of a house as it was a hideaway from the world, but that didn't keep Christine away from light.) Even when she helped Erik out for a bit to sing his pieces and make sure they sounded right, she was standing. At one point, she just collapsed on the couch from exhaustion. Oh, she was conscious, but even her mentality was starting to shatter.

Erik was reaching the point of panic. He couldn't keep morbid thoughts of losing her from creeping into his mind. He brushed her hair away from her face, and kissed her forehead. "No more of this, Christine," he muttered. "You're going to lie down and I'm going to find a doctor and bring him here before you injure yourself."

The moment he began sympathizing, she started shaking her head and insisted that she was all right. "No, no. I am perfectly fine, Erik," Christine protested, shaking her head once again, then started getting up. "I'm more than perf-" She started to get dizzy, then just fell back down again, sighing. She hated it when Erik worried about her.

Erik sighed in return. "You're not fine, Christine," he told her softly. "I know how much you want to be; I know how much you hate this. But you've got to see a doctor. All right?"

She shook her head again. "No, Erik, I will not see a doctor. It is nothing. And if anything, perhaps a bug I caught while I went out. It is the season to get ill now." She waved a reassuring hand at him and attempted a second time to stand, this time, with success. Giving him a kiss, her pale face smiled. "Don't you be worrying about me, my dear. Worry about yourself."

God, why did she have to be so stubborn? He stood and caught her hand before she could leave the room. "Please, darling, this is not just a bug. You've had it for too long. You're not running around the house anymore - I won't have it."

"Erik," Christine said sternly and yet gently at the same time. She freed her hand, then used it to lay it on his cheek. "Will you stop worrying? I do what needs to be done, and I do it with love. Now, let me do what I need to do. Will you let me, Erik?" She failed to mention that she felt sick to her stomach.

He stepped forward and kissed her gently. "I've let you keep on like this for too long. It's my job to protect you - I'll take care of the house. You're going to lie down and I'm going to find a doctor." He frowned as an idea came to mind. He didn't particularly want her to know where he lived, but he was getting desperate... "If you won't let me bring a doctor, at least let me send for Madame Giry - she knows more about these things than I do."

As stubborn as Christine tended to be, so was Erik. And when it came to her, there was definitely not much she could do to stop him from protecting her. Sighing again, this time loudly, Christine was ever so tempted to continue protesting against this. She knew her body, and she knew she was going to be all right. But she also knew that it would calm him down a bit to know that someone was looking at her. "Fine. If it will make you feel better, then...I will lie down, and you can send for Madame Giry. But she will not be pleased I am not, nor have been performing for quite some time," she added as if to add some light humor on that.

Erik relaxed visibly, relieved she would cooperate with him. "Thank you," he said earnestly. "I'll write her a letter - I'm not leaving you alone here for long just to fetch her."

Finding her way to the bedroom, Christine held on to the walls as if for support. If only Erik knew just what she had been hiding from him for weeks. How she hadn't been eating properly, and when she did, it just came back up. How she often felt some pain in her abdomen, or how she was constantly feeling exhausted, though she never showed it. Goodness, he would turn all of France upside for her to find the cure of whatever she had. Christine lied down on the bed, curling up in a somewhat fetal position. She hoped to God that she wasn't going to die and leave Erik alone.

Erik quickly scrawled out a letter to Madame Giry, practically begging her to come help him, completely ignoring his dignity and pride. He needed help for his wife, and he would stop at nothing to get it. His Christine was far too good for the pain she was in - and he was a little afraid she was downplaying it, and it was worse than he thought.

Holding the letter in a hand, and her eyes scanning the paper, Madame Giry seemed a bit confused at the entirety of the letter written. She saw the signature at the bottom, 'PTO', and she certainly knew his skull mark on the envelope, but the content was far too...loose, free, and informal. Nothing like what she remembered the actual Phantom of the Opera would write. But then again, it was five years since she'd communicated last with Erik. Not much was said even then. All Giry really knew about him now was that he and Christine were married and living off somewhere in Paris. As for their whereabouts, she had no idea.

Something about Christine becoming ill and has been for a while? And Erik cannot determine what it really is, so he is desperate for help? There was no return address, but he did leave certain instructions for location, places where only Madame Giry would understand. North of the riverbed, and then west of the boutique. Very vague, but strangely enough, she knew exactly where he was talking about. But she had to be extremely careful as to not be followed. Parisians knew that she had been in cahoots with the Phantom and they often poked and pried, almost like she was someone famous. Well, she was, but not in that way.

Bringing a fist up to the hidden door, Madame Giry did a quick look around to really make sure there was nobody at her heels. But there was nobody but the wind, the night, and herself. Rapping gently on the door, she held a basket of a few things she thought she might bring the two, cakes, a few scarves Christine would adore, and some necessities. In truth, she was a little nervous about confronting Christine. Christine left Raoul to be with the man who killed for her. That was almost unimaginable for Giry; to understand why Christine had done it. She would never object, of course, but, the girl must have been awfully confused. About Erik, Madame Giry was not nervous, but about Christine, she was. Strange, indeed.

Erik pulled open the door and caught sight of the aging woman there. He ushered her inside quickly. "Thank you for coming, Madame Giry. Please, Christine is this way." Quickly, he led her through the house, to his wife. He honestly couldn't explain how grateful he was - the woman was always seemed to be there when he needed her most.

Madame Giry put down the basket on a nearby table, taking in every detail of the new home. It wasn't as dark or dreary as Erik's lair had been, but it was still fairly closed off, secluded. Something Christine definitely would not have been able to live in for too long. Giry was sure that Erik had created a side of the home, a warehouse, for Christine specifically. Following him to Christine, Madame Giry became anxious. "Christine," she breathed as she caught sight of the sickly figure lying down on the bed.

Christine's heart stopped for a moment. She hadn't seen Madame Giry for...for a very long time. This could go either bad or good. Sitting up, Christine got a little lightheaded but she ignored it until it went away. "Madame Giry," Christine acknowledged.

Erik sat down beside his wife and took her hand. God, he swore she was getting worse. What if they couldn't make it go away? He was supposed to be able to take care of her - why did he fail the first moment he was tested?

At first, Madame Giry wasn't sure what exactly Erik wanted her to do. She wasn't a doctor of any sorts. But she did, however, take care of twenty-five chorus girls back at the Opera Populaire. Sitting down on the other side of Christine, Madame Giry gave her a smile and a nod, just a friendly gesture. "How are you, Christine? Of course, other than your situation now." She placed a hand to Christine's forehead. "You're not feverish, but you are a bit warm. Anything else that you've been feeling?"

Oh, goodness, Christine hated when people acted like she was on the verge of dying - or maybe that was a bad expression to use now. "I am...okay. Happy, finally," she admitted, then squeezed Erik's hand. "I often feel nauseas, and get tired easily now. I hardly eat, and feel faint." She looked at Erik as if to allow him to actually inform Madame Giry what he's been noticing about Christine, since he watched her like a hawk at times.

Erik kissed her hand. "She's been losing weight, she's been vomiting - and she's absolutely convinced she's all right. I would have brought a doctor, but she was so against it..." Erik hated feeling helpless - and now he felt as though he was groping in the dark. "If you don't know what's wrong with her, I am bringing a doctor. I will not allow my wife to be sick any longer."

"Don't be so hasty, Erik. The girl may be correct in not wanting to see a doctor," Madame Giry said, holding a hand up to reassure Erik a bit. Then, she looked at Christine again. "Have you been running high fevers, coughing, any blotchy spots anywhere on your skin? Have you been anywhere you know you shouldn't be going, where you could become ill?" She had a hunch, but it was so unrealistic, she would not mention it until she was sure.

All the things Madame Giry had mentioned, have not happened, so Christine began shaking her head. "Absolutely not. I always take one path to the marketplace, and have been fine. No fevers, no coughing - I would know what tuberculosis starts like, Madame."

Inwardly, Erik cringed at the thought of tuberculosis - the incurable sickness that had wiped away countless people. He would not be reassured by Madame Giry, not when his wife was in pain, but he stayed silent for the moment.

Almost a second after Christine mentioned tuberculosis, Madame Giry began shaking her head. "You would have had a chronic and wet cough if you had tuberculosis. No cough is a good sign. Headaches? Backaches?" Giry questioned, then merely touched Christine's fingers. "When was your last menstruation, Christine?" She almost asked that with a smile.

Christine had to admit that she was relieved to have it confirmed that she had not been exposed to tuberculosis. There had once been a chorus girl who'd died of it, and poor girl, she suffered so much before. "Both headaches and backaches...why?" That was when Madame Giry asked the question and Christine took no notice of its roots. "Perhaps two, three months ago? I've been so busy, I've forgotten. Why?" she queried again, trying to figure out where Giry was going with this. Suddenly, her brown eyes widened and she felt she couldn't breathe.

Erik frowned. He knew exactly where Madame Giry was going, but that couldn't be it. It was impossible. Inconceivable. He couldn't think, couldn't focus, couldn't imagine what he would do. But then, he was certain that couldn't be it. He couldn't have - could he?

Well, that confirmed it for Madame Giry. The sickness, the fatigue, the pains...the three month late menstruation. These were all obvious signs. Madame Giry took Christine's hand and softly put it to Christine's stomach, then smiled. "Maybe...actually, I am pretty sure it was...it is unplanned, but I am more positive than negative that you, Christine, are with child."

Oh, God, that was the last - second to last - thing Christine wanted to hear. It hadn't even passed through her mind that she could or even would ever get pregnant. She and Erik have never discussed it, nor did she think she wanted to anytime soon. She was still young, still had years ahead of her. This was...This was too much. She couldn't breathe, or see straight, and she had a headache that was nagging at her. Christine collapsed back down into the pillow, unconscious. The last thing she saw was Erik's face.

Erik released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding and touched Christine's face gently. He could feel an odd anger inside of him - pregnancies were supposed to be a time of joy for families but all he could think was that there was a parasite inside of his love, feeding off of her and stealing her from him. And how many young women died in childbirth? No wonder she had lost so much weight - the little she could keep down was stolen from her! If he had his way, he would drown the demon the moment he could - but would Christine let him? What if she favored the thing, forgot about him to dote on a screaming, dripping ball of flesh? He only just managed to receive her love - he did not want to share.

"I hate to have to leave like this, but I must go. I do not want to two of you living in fear and paranoia while people hunt you down. As long as you are both thought of as either dead or gone far away, you will all be safe," Madame Giry said, her head bowing a bit towards Christine as she stood up. "This is common, Erik. These symptoms. In a few weeks or so, she should be getting stronger. For now, all you can do is keep her away from work, from going out, and make sure she eats, even if not much of it stays down. I know you will take good care of her." Again, she bowed her head, this time at Erik, then backed out of the room. Her work here was done. She only hoped that Erik would do the right thing in this situation.

Erik heard what Madame Giry said, but did little to acknowledge her. He'd take care of her - the demon would not kill his Christine, he wouldn't let it! He kissed her tenderly on the forehead, wondering how long she would sleep.