A/N: Hello! Thank you so much PerilousRosella, Threatens and Adores, RedDeathLvr, and caitreylove for the reviews! Always so great to hear that feedback! I was planning for this chapter to have an Erik POV, but it just felt stilted, so I decided to split it between Elizabeth & Christine. I know I've just introduced her and it is a bit odd to toss in a new character, and so late in the game, but since she's so important in the main story it didn't feel like too big of a stretch. Let me know what you think!

Chapter 62

Elizabeth

Once Erik drifted out of my sightline I struggled to catch my breath, my fingers clutching desperately into the thin fabric of my work gown. Get ahold of yourself! What were you expecting? Shaking my head, I swallowed my rising emotions, and pushed the few tears that managed to trace their way down my cheeks away. This isn't exactly a shocking revelation, it's Christine De Chagny for goodness sake, this whole melodrama that he's been scheming and plotting for all these years has been leading to this moment. Inhaling sharply, I got back to my feet, shooting one last glare in his general direction, before collecting my mop and striding back to the stage.

The managers were still crowded around Monsieur Reyer's podium, talking animatedly amongst themselves while Christine blushed prettily under their attentions. The Diva, La Carlotta, on the other hand, was beside herself. Her wig had long since fallen askew, and she patted agitatedly at her covered hair. Her sharp gaze instantly fastened onto me, and she crooked her long finger in my direction.

"You!" she cried out, beetle black eyes boring into my hunched form. Not wanting to accede too quickly to her demands, I arched my eyebrows and propped my hand on my hip.

"Madame?" I replied acidly, still refusing to obey her frantic gesturing for me to come closer.

"Get over here you lazy cow!" she snarled, loudly drawing the attention of the gaggle of managers and Madame De Chagny.

"Really, La Carlotta!" Monsieur Reyer pipped up, his sharp grey eyes moving over to me. "There's no need for you to speak to Elizabeth so harshly. What is it that you require?"

"I require the maid's services! But while I have your attention gentlemen, why is she," here the Diva paused and pointed an accusing finger in Christine De Chagny's direction. "Why is she here?"

"I do believe," Cabarette's booming voice echoed around the space, and I instinctively took a step towards the wings again. The last thing I needed was for him to spark an interest in me once more. "I explained that Madame De Chagny has decided to grace the Parisian opera with her delightful voice for a final performance. We have already taken the liberty to rearrange the parts to include her, and if there is any, any, issue, then it is very easy to recall our Italian soprano to take your place."

La Carlotta's quivering increased tenfold, and her bosom heaved indignantly against her tightened corset. For a moment I was worried that she might fling caution to the wind and pit her infamous temper against Cabarette's proclamation, but a small voice called out before she could begin her tirade.

"Please, Monsieur Cabarette, there's no need to displace Madame Carlotta, she is a very gifted, and a very experienced soprano, a true gift to the Paris stage. I would be happy with a minor role, there's no need to disrupt the whole casting on my account," Christine De Chagny finished, a gentle smile gracing her exquisite lips.

A quick silence followed her kind acquiescence, and I found myself staring, utterly bemused, at this delicate woman. She clearly has no stomach for a quarrel, even if she was likely the better singer of the two, and refused to cross the "Great Diva." So, this is why you feel so drawn to her Erik, I thought, shaking my head minutely and returning to my mopping. This Christine was a finespun creature, so timid, so appeasing, and I can only imagine how he had swooped down to protect her. In his love for all things beautiful he had become insnared and who wouldn't? She was lovely and, with that meek temperament, would have bent to anything that he asked.

"Madame," Cabarette chimed in again, his hands reaching for Christine's. "I'm afraid that this is non-negotiable. The papers have already been drawn up and your dear husband took so much persuading. Let us welcome you, one final time, to the spotlight. La Carlotta has only suffered a shock, she will be given an equally important part in Aida, I promise you."

I glanced over my shoulder to see Christine nod, Cabarette's dulcet tone calming all her worries. Not wanting to be caught in any more of this opera house drama, I bundled up my heavy bucket and mop, quickly beelining for the darkened wings. As I ducked into the welcoming pitch I noticed another small movement, and found myself walking directly past Erik's cloaked form. I paused beside him for a moment, looking up at his stark white mask, but he ignored me, his gaze still drawn to Christine. Sighing audibly, I moved on, shaking my head at his strange demeanor. He'll come around, I thought bitterly, she's bound to do something that will make him lose his temper. Christine or not, that fury of his can be quelled by no man, or woman in this case.

#####

"Lizzy! Hey, Elizabeth!" Renee called, causing me to pause in my polishing, looking grumpily toward my eldest stepsister.

"Honestly Renee, do you need to shout?" I asked, semi playfully, and turned back to my task. There really wasn't much time to spare. As soon as the hoopla from Christine De Chagny's triumphant return had died down, Madame Giry appeared in the kitchens, where I had slunk off for a quick snack between chores. She gazed fondly at me, but her commanding tone still rattled me, even after all these years.

"The Opera Aida will commence in a months time," she began bleakly, and I immediately quelled any questions of my own, not wanting to interrupt her brisk instructions. "The Opera Populare will entertain a large American delegation and the Ambassador to France, under the American President Rutherford Hayes, will be in attendance. I do not feel that I need to bore you with the delicacy of this situation, the opera house must be in tip top shape. Nothing can go wrong, and if it does, well, I doubt the house will survive another disaster."

I nodded my understanding, and she curtly extended her own neck before turning to my stepmother, relaying a similar message. And so began the largest cleaning effort that I've ever seen. Everything was taken out, given a deep scrubbing, polished until it shone, and then replaced, gleaming against the Parisian sunlight. My days soon began to meld into one another, and I wouldn't have been able to tell you if it was a Monday or a Sunday, even if my life depended on it.

In light of all the hustle and bustle, there wasn't much time for me to dwell on Erik's disappearance. I had taken to waking up before the sun and was dropping into bed long after it had faded from the horizon, my body was aching from the constant work, but in some ways it distracted me from my turbulent emotions. I knew that Erik must be shadowing Christine De Chagny, and although I took no comfort from this, another part of me seethed. If he wanted to play this little game of his then so be it, he can pine all he wanted to after another woman, and a claimed woman at that. But if he popped up, as he was so often wont to do, and wished for me to further his little schemes then I would gladly tell him right where he could stuff it.

"Liz? Are you even paying any attention to me?" Renee's voice drifted back to me, and I hastily shook my head, clearing my clamor of thoughts and finally focused on my stepsister.

"Sorry!" I cried, turning to her, my hands raised in supplication.

"You're always off in your own world lately," Renee chided, smiling down at me. "Mama needs you, whenever you get a moment. I'm worried that she's throwing herself too much into all this, kind of like you come to think of it," she finished, wrinkling her small nose at my dusty dress.

"Is she ok?" I asked, immediately placing my soiled rag on the floor.

"I think so, she's just, well, we're all still trying to cope with Madeline, but mama has taken it the hardest. She needs to rest, let me take over for the day, but you know her," Renee mused, gazing over at the heavy front doors.

"Do you think she'll even listen to me?" I asked, pulling myself to my feet, and dusting off my skirts. Renee shrugged, "She always seems to." I nodded, and the two of us wound our way down to the kitchens.

Pushing the swinging doors aside, we stepped into another frantic scene. Meats, flour, and greens were covering every counter and in the middle of it all was our mother. Her starched white cap was crooked, and she seemed to be moving a mile a minute. I quickly walked over to her side and tugged at her apron, the same way that I did as a little girl, and she stilled at the familiar gesture.

"Mama?" I called, meeting her doe brown eyes and smiling. "I think it's time for Rene to take over."

"There's so much," she began, but the urgency was back and she moved away from my grip, turning back to her mountain of work. "So much to do Lizzy, I don't have time to stop."

"Mama," I began again, this time sidestepping her has she reached for a large copper pot. "You need to rest, this isn't up for discussion I'm afraid." She paused then, and turned back to me, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. "Lizzy, I can't."

My arms immediately went around her and Renee's followed, the three of us huddled together until her shaking stopped. "I'm sorry girls," she began, her voice thick with her sorrow. "I know that you must be suffering, I know that poor Sophie must be scared, up there on stage and with so much pressure, but I can't seem to stop crying."

"Shh, mama," Renee replied, pulling back from our embrace. "There's no need for you to apologize and there's no need for you to explain. However, you're running yourself into the ground, we're worried, that's all."

"My darlings," she echoed softly, her hands cupping both Renee and me under our chins. "I see that I cannot win, but please, don't try to confine me to my room, I need, I need," she choked out and I swiftly put my hand over hers. "You need to get outside," I finished, catching her eyes again.

"Lizzy is right," Renee nodded. "Why don't you go for a stroll? Or go visit Madeline? Peter brought those lovely flowers in yesterday, why don't you take them to her?"

"My dear girls," she replied, taking steadying breaths. "Are you sure you'll be alright without me? What if-"

"Mama," I interjected, disengaging from her touch. "We'll be just fine, we promise. Why don't I go and see if Sophie wants to go with you? I know she's been given the afternoon off to rest her voice."

"That's a wonderful idea Lizzy," Renee smiled, linking her arm with our mothers. "While she's getting Sophie, why don't you show me what you're planning for dinner? That way there will be no mistakes."

I watched as Renee led her over to the main counter top before I walked to the small hallway that led to Sophie's small bedroom. She seems so frail. Sighing, I turned on my heel and tried to push down my own feelings of woe. It wouldn't do to upset Sophie, or my stepmother, any more then they already were.

Rapping softly against her bedroom door, I leaned heavily against the wall across the hallway, taking steadying breaths as I listened for Sophie's approaching footsteps. I had almost crossed the small space to knock again, when the door was flung open and Sophie's golden curls whirled into view.

"Oh! Lizzy!" she smiled and gestured for me to come inside. Grinning back at her exuberant gaze, I crossed the threshold into her small space. "What on earth are you doing here?" she asked, perching on her bed, her eyes questioning.

"Mother needs some help today my love," I replied, stealing a quick glance at her large mirror. Sophie noticed my scrutiny and gave a small sigh, "He came today, well, a few minutes ago actually." I tried to keep my face neutral, but there was no fooling Sophie.

"He didn't ask about you, he didn't ask about anyone really," she said cooly. "He hardly seems to pay me any attention either. I don't know if I've upset him-"

"It's not you dearest," I interrupted, not wanting her to be filling her head with such negative thoughts, especially when this damned opera loomed so near. "He's just preoccupied, it's mainly to do with that new soprano."

"Oh! Madame De Chagny? Well, Christine, she's told me to call her that, but I can't ever seem to do it. She's very nice, but very grand. I mean, she's a Countess after all!"

"Yes, Madame De Chagny, she was an old student of his," I replied glumly.

"That makes sense, she's so talented. Have you heard her?" Sophie asked, peering up at me.

"A bit, she does have a beautiful voice. I haven't had much time to listen lately I'm afraid," I finished lamely, gesturing to my grimy dress.

"Yeah," Sophie agreed. "I know that they've been working everyone so hard. I don't understand the rush for this opera. It's coming together, but I just feel like everyone has turned into a whirling dervish. It can't be good for ticket sales, I mean, who even has had time to hear about it?"

"Most people will come just to see Madame De Chagny and the American Ambassador," I stated simply, tucking one of her golden curls behind her ear. "An event like that sells itself."

"That's true," Sophie replied, her gaze moving to the mirror also. "I just wish he would tell me if I'm doing everything correctly, it's a big part after all."

"Dearest, you sound divine," I smiled, taking her small shoulders in my hands. "Don't ever doubt that. No matter what happens, we are all so very proud of you!"

"Thank you Lizzy," Sophie grinned, hopping to her feet. "Where is mama? Maybe we can go see Madeline?"

I couldn't help the smile that bloomed across my lips. "That's just what we were hoping for my love."

#####

Christine

Raoul was upset. Part of me, the rational part, acknowledged this as something that was well within his rights. However, if Erik, my tutor, my Angel of Music, my father, my friend and yes, my first real love, was dying then I needed to be here. I still had the letter, I kept it in my music box, glancing at it every few days, hoping, and fearing, that he would call to me. The box resided in my dressing room, the same one that I used when I was first discovered, La Carlotta's old rooms, and the room where he had first led me into his world. How magical that night had been, his hand strong beneath mine, his voice, so lovely, so clear, echoing around me.

But a week had passed, a whole week of wondering, pacing, and praying that he was still alive. What if I was too late? I had no idea how old Erik was, he was an Angel after all. No, I chided myself, what a silly notion. Erik was a man, a man of flesh and blood. And of desire, I reminded myself.

"Do you not remember what happened the last time we were here?" Raoul pleaded, his voice taking on an edge of anger. Raoul never yelled at me, never chided me, never made me feel like I was anything other then something precious. I watched as he paced the floor in front of me, his boots echoing on the polished wood. That maid, Elizabeth, had come in here on my first day, mop, dusting cloth, and broom at the ready. She was polite and quiet, but I had the feeling that she harbored a deep seeded hostility against me. Perhaps she was one of La Carlotta's chosen, that clutch of men, and women, who followed the diva about like dogs. She had made the room spotless, so clean that even a week later there was no trace of dust in the large space.

"Christine? Are you listening?" Raoul's voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and I rose to my feet, my hands searching for his.

"I know," I acknowledged softly, overwhelmed for a moment by his closeness. "It's silly of me to be here-"

"Dangerous," he interrupted, his fingers lacing with mine, pulling me to his brightness. "I don't want to lose you my love, not after I've just found you."

I smiled at his tenderness, sheltering under his love. "I will be cautious, I promise I will let you know if the Angel, I mean, if Erik reaches out to me."

"He's a man," Raoul reminded me, his blue eyes catching mine easily.

"He is, and a man that I owe much to," I finished, smiling at his worry. "I won't be lured again, I love you Raoul."

He nodded at my soothing, his hands tracing my sides lovingly, pausing for a moment at my hips. "Keep your guard up, he is tricky, he can bind you, and his voice is the devil in disguise. I know that you think otherwise, but I heard it. I still hear it in my darkest dreams, pulling you away, tainting you into something dark and twisted."

"My love," I called to him, tucking my head against his broad shoulder. "Thank you, thank you for everything that you've done."

"That I've done?" he quizzed, leaning back from me. "Christine? What do you mean?"

"Just that I know you've tried so hard to shelter me, to care for me. I know it can't have been easy, I was such a wreck after our flight-"

"My darling, there is no reason to thank me. I will always be here, by your side."

I smiled against his lapels, drowning in his warmth, his life, and his love, a love that gleaming against the darkness that always seemed to follow me around this opera house.

"I will be careful, I won't let you down," I smiled, and Raoul wrapped his powerful arms about me, tucking me against him. "Come," he said softly. "Let us return home, are you hungry?"

"Famished," I laughed, lacing my arm with his as he opened the dressing room door, leading us out of the gloom of the past.

#####

I returned at the break of dawn the next day, pushing the gilded doors open happily. Perhaps today would be the day that I would hear from my Angel, I was just about to dash across the polished floors when I suddenly felt a shudder pass along my stomach. I halted my steps, clutching at the marble walls, and stumbled over to the main staircase, my fingers clawing for purchase.

Once the cool wood landed under my seeking fingertips, I dared to take a shuddering breath, only to feel a deep wave of nausea overtake my senses once again. What's wrong with me? My nerves were screaming at me to leave, to find Raoul, to get out of this cursed building, but I couldn't move. I stumbled to my knees heavily, my gown flowing out around me, a blush of pink against the cold marble. My next breath was more shuddering then the last and my hands reached for my corset. If I could just loosen it-

"Madame?" A voice called, and I frantically looked up. There was that maid again, her name escaped me in my panic. I tried to reply, I really did, but everything felt so fuzzy. Thankfully, she rushed over to me, gathering my withered form into surprisingly strong arms.

"Sit up a bit," she called, her fingers instantly going to the strings of my corset, unhooking them from my back. "Is that helping any?" she asked, her voice distant to my fogged senses.

"Lizzy?" another voice cried out, this time there was something familiar in it, and I clutched for Meg's hand when she reached for mine.

"What happened?" Meg asked, a distant noise, but she was clearly talking with the maid.

"She collapsed, I thought it might have been her corset, but it's not," the maid, Lizzy, replied.

"What is it?" Meg asked, panic seeping through her tone. There was silence, but I could feel that the two women helping me to my feet had silently communicated something. I tried to ask, but a sickening wave hit my stomach again and I bent over.

"You need to get her back to her carriage," the lower voice, that Lizzy's voice, called out, turning me back to the doors.

"But the rehearsal," Meg protested.

"They can have it later, it will pass. We need to get her back home for the moment, or if not home at least to the kitchens."

"No," Meg replied, a note of understanding trembling in the air. "Home, home will be best. I'll alert the driver, can you hold her?"

"I'm fine," came the curt reply.

I shuddered against Lizzy's hold, my stomach was doing flip flops, and I felt another blast of sickness hit me, but I pushed it down. "What's wrong with me?" I asked, my voice pleading.

"You don't know?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, suddenly fearful of this woman that was holding me so tightly.

"Madame, I think you should see a doctor, this news should not come from me."

"But-"

"Lizzy! Bring her this way!" Meg called, silencing my questions. What on earth? What does she mean why don't I know? I've never felt this way in my life! I clutched at her arms as we walked into the sunlight and down the steps to my carriage. As Clément, the driver, bundled me into the seat, I turned to the young maid, meeting her bright green eyes. "What do you mean?" I asked again, my hands clutching for hers. She just shook her head and disengaged from my grasp. "You need to talk with your doctor, it is not my place." And with that, the horses lurched forward, pitting me against another deep wave of nausea.

######

Elizabeth

"Lizzy!" Meg called, as I began the long walk up the opera house steps. I bit my lip in annoyance and turned back to my friend. "What?"

"What do you mean, what?" she chided, racing up to stand beside me. "You know what that was don't you?"

"Of course I do, it's the Countess De Chagny that seemed to be clueless," I replied peevishly. Meg cocked her head at my tone, clearly taken aback. I shook my head in apology. "Look, I know she's your friend, it's just, how on earth do I explain something like that to a Countess?"

"I know," she agreed, her own head bowed. "I didn't know what to say either, but it does make sense why they're rushing this opera through."

"Yes," I echoed, turning from Meg and starting the trek of stairs again. "Yes, it does."

After the incident with the Countess, I threw myself into my cleaning duties, working on each of the opera box seats, cleaning them until they gleamed in the low candle light. By the end of the day my back was aching, but I still had a full load of dresses and shirts to mend. After wolfing down my dinner, I bundled the clothes into my arms, slowly meandering down the long hallway that led to my bedroom. Pausing, I fumbled with the door for a moment before I finally tumbled into the room, Moppet's exuberant mewls greeting me.

"I know," I called out to her. "It's been another day, I'll get your dinner right now."

"Yes," a melodious voice echoed by my ear, causing me to drop my bundle of laundry. "It has been a day." And with that, my door was shut snugly behind me. I turned my attention to my right shoulder, looking up to see Erik's brilliant blue eyes gazing down at me, his outline looming over my smaller frame.

"Erik," I replied curtly, ducking out from under his impressive shape to gather the clothes into my arms once more. He watched, distractedly, as I struggled to dump my large bundle onto my bed. For the most part, I ignored him, tucking my feet under my skirts as I perched on the only visible corner of my bed frame, pulling a torn skirt into my hands.

"Lizzy," he began, his voice melting into that lulling tone that often had my knees quaking, but thankfully, I was able to shake my way out of his charm.

"What?" I snapped, my hands busy digging a loose needle out of my bedside dresser. He paused then, surprised that I didn't cow under his power, his powerful body suspended.

"Have you been following the managers?" he asked, his tone drifting lazily about, with a hint of dynamism thrown in for good measure.

"Have I been following the managers?" I repeated dumbly, my eyes snapping up to his finally. "No, no Erik, I have not."

"And why, pray tell have you not kept your ear to the ground?" Erik snarled, moving to his full height in front of me.

"Why? What do you mean why? This whole place has been turned upside down, I've been cleaning from dawn until dusk, not to mention the fact that my family is still in mourning for a sister. You've not bothered to talk to me for over a week, and you ask why?" I snarled, hopping to my feet and pressing into him, silently telling him to back down.

"Your place here-" he began dangerously, his fingers clinching powerfully in their kid gloves but I was beyond caution.

"My place? What do you want from me? I'm exhausted, and if you would stop hovering around Christine for one bloody minute you might see how much you've been missing. No, I haven't had time to bother with the fucking managers, I've been trying to maintain my job, on top of dealing with collapsing Countesses."

"About that," Erik interjected, his gloved hands coming to rest on my quivering shoulders, instantly silencing me. "What did she say to you?"

"Who? Christine?" I snapped, pulling away from his touch. Erik seemed taken aback at my sudden movement, his hands falling limply by his sides.

"Of course," he replied, moving back to the rocking chair that resided in the corner.

"Oh," I cackled. "Of course, of course, you mean Christine! She didn't say anything, only that she was at a loss as to why she was suffering from morning sickness."

"What?" he asked dumbly, his clear gaze clouded by confusion.

"Yeah," I replied, sitting back on my bed. "She's expecting."

Erik rose to his feet then, his boot snapping against my hardwood floors until his was directly in front of me. Shocked, I gazed up at him, his face a hard line against the flickering candle light. "What?" he asked again, his cloak settling impressively around his heels.

"She's expecting," I repeated, suddenly aware of how very close he was.

"What does that mean?" he snarled, leaning over me, his hands slamming down onto at the mattress, pinning me where I sat.

"She's pregnant," I stammered, my heart racing against my ribs. Erik stilled then, his gaze searching mine. Then suddenly, he visibly sagged, his whole body crumbling until his knees hit the floor heavily.

"Christine," he called mournfully, his hands covering his face. Instinctively, I reached for him, surprised that he accepted my touch, almost seeming to lean into it. For a long moment the two of us remained suspended, his shivering form pressed into my thighs, and I cradled him to me, my anger dissipating despite my former intentions.

"How?" he asked suddenly, his face lifting to mine.

"What do you mean how? How all babies are made, I'm shocked she doesn't have a brood by now, most Counts don't wait," I replied softly, smoothing his chestnut hair back from his masked side, my fingers savoring the soft texture.

"But you," he began, and then ducked away from my touch, rising to his feet, his back to me.

"What about me?" I asked sharply, narrowing my eyes at his back.

"You've never-" he cut himself off with a wave of his hand, his unmasked cheek turning back to me.

"I've taken precautions," I said slowly, not wanting to rouse that temper of his any more then it already was. "My stepmother taught all of us when we reached a certain age to make an herbal tea. I've taken it every time, without fail. I doubt Christine has been taught the same thing, and I'm certain that it would be frowned upon. She is a Countess now, her main role is continuing the De Changy line."

He turned to me then, his hands reaching for mine, pulling me to my feet and pressing me up to him. "Are you certain?" he asked, his face inches from mine. My hands, seemly with a will of their own, moved to cup his face, tenderly holding him in place. Once more, he didn't shrink from my touch, it was almost as if he welcomed it.

"I'm positive," I replied. "My stepmother once worked under a midwife in our village, she knows the signs and taught Renee and I to recognize them as well."

Erik's vibrant eyes closed at that, his forehead coming to rest against mine, his breath hot against my skin. I was just about to raise my lips to his when he pulled away, his hands ghosting against my skin one final time before he turned, his fingers already reaching for the switch that would lead him back to his tunnels. I didn't need to ask where he was going. I knew that those subterranean passageways would lead him right back to that dressing room of hers, and there was nothing that I could do, or say, that would dissuade him.