I Did it All for Love

Prologue

A.N.: This is a very, very angsty fic. As a warning, it made me cry like a baby while I was writing, and I've never done that to myself before, so this might be quite a tear jerker.

"Monsieur le Viscomte, if you would be so kind," the nurse had said, roughly seizing the terrified man's arm, "get out of the way !" With that, Raoul de Chagny was roughly shoved out of the room where his wife was. Stunned, he stood in that hall way for several moments, merely staring at the door. The day he and Christine had waited nine months for was here.

Only it wasn't going like it should.

Frightened, alone, Raoul paced that hallway until he thought he'd worn holes in his shoes. He forced himself to sit in a chair, but his foot tapped anxiously to some silent, frightful tune.

It was hours before a doctor finally burst from the bedroom, looking for le Viscomte. Raoul sat up, his face grey. "Is she alright?" The doctor said nothing, thinking of what to say. "May I see her?"

Finally, he sighed. "Monsieur, your wife is very ill….She might not-" Raoul did not wait for him to finish the sentence. He burst from the chair, shoving the doctor out of his way as he tried to stop him, snarling "Let me see her!"

When Raoul entered the room, the mere shock of the solemn air made him stop for a moment. Christine, his beloved, his angel, he life, was lying in the bed he always shared with her. She looked so small, so fragile in it, as though she were made of crystal. His breath came in shorter gasps, and he felt his heart clamoring in his chest. She looked as grey and tired as when he'd met her at the Masked Ball, only now she was smiling, holding a small bundle in her arms. "Christine?" he whimpered, daring not to move.

Slowly, she tore her loving gaze from the child to her husband. "Hello, Raoul," she responded softly. She lacked the strength to speak any louder.

With a pained cry, Raoul crossed the small gap between them, falling to his knees by the side of the bed, wildly clutching her hand. He pressed it to his lips, placing it against his cheek. Gently, she soothingly ran a hand down his face, smiling. "Oh Christine, Christine!" he moaned. "What have I done to you?"

"Hush….you'll upset the baby….."

The baby. Raoul gazed down at the infant laying quite calmly in the mother's arms…..His child….He gazed back up at his wife. "How is the baby?"

"She," Christine stressed, "is doing fine."

"It is you who is not unwell."

Christine's smile became sad. "Yes, that's true."

"Don't say that!" Raoul cried out; he did not want to hear the truth. He leaned over the edge of the bed, kissing his wife's forehead before placing his own against hers. "You will get better! I promised to protect you, and it was by me that you now suffer. Oh, Christine!"

Her lovely, sapphire eyes gazed into his tear filled brown ones. "No, no, don't blame yourself."

"Oh, Christine, I love you so much. I would die without you."

Her white, shaky hand closed over his own, and he quickly grabbed it. "I would rather die giving birth to your child, then live a thousand years. I love you, Raoul."

"Then don't go!" he begged, as though she had control over her own destiny.

She laughed weakly. "I promise I'll do my best to stay. Now, what should we name our daughter?"

Raoul now looked back at the perfect, innocent child in his wife's arms. The child's eye lashes fluttered open, revealing large, brown eyes. It blinked, seeming to wonder "Who on earth are all of you?" Raoul ran a thumb across her soft cheek, and the little child gurgled and cooed.

Christine held the child closer to her breast, leaning over to give it a soft kiss. "My little angel," she whispered. Christine looked tired, and she began to sink back into the pillows, Raoul wildly clinging to her hand. "Our little angel. Isn't she perfect, Raoul?"

"She is as perfect as her mother, who is a flawless star."

Christine smiled. "Angelique. That is who she is."

Raoul gave his daughter a soft kiss. "Angelique," he repeated, before returning his adoring gaze to his wife.

She was now very grey, very tired. Her breath rattled in her chest, and her grip on her husband's hand became slack. "Oh….Raoul, I'm just so tired…."

"Christine!" he cried, holding her in his arms, supporting her head. He showered kisses on her exhausted face, sobbing. "Don't go, don't go! Don't leave me alone! Christine, Christine!"

"But my darling, you are not alone. You have Angelique."

"Please, Christine, please! Don't go, don't go! Don't leave me! I can't take care of her by myself! I can't live without you! I love you, I love you, don't go!" Unabashed tears fell from his handsome eyes, and even Christine was beginning to cry.

"Raoul, I don't think I have much time, so please, listen carefully: Take Angelique and go back to France. You do not belong in Sweden."

"I belong with you!" he cried. "Wherever you are is where my home is. Don't send me away from you, Christine! Let me stay."

"You must go, my darling, and so must I."

Raoul's tears started with fresh vigor: "Don't send me away! Don't leave me, don't go!"

"I don't want to go," she sobbed as well. "But my father misses me…..and so does Erik."

"No!" Raoul cried tightening his grip on her. "I took you away from him, I made sure he could never haunt you again! Don't think of him, Christine, don't think of him!"

"He's finally become an Angel of Music, and I must become an angel as well."

"Don't make me loose you to him again, please, Christine!"

"Raoul," she promised, "you can never loose me. I have but one husband of my heart and of my soul, and that is you. I have but one mate, and that is you! Death won't keep me from you. Love is too strong for that."

Her soul began to fade from her body, which was growing lax, the babe falling closer to her breast as she fell into the embrace of death, though it was her husband who still held her body. "Don't go, Christine, don't leave me! Please, please, come back! Christine, Christine!"

The sobbing plea rang through the room, and down the hall. The heart broken sobs seemed to echo as le Viscomte sobbed over the only woman he had ever loved. Nothing could dry his tears as they fell like rain, his voice cracking as he cried "Christine, Christine! Come back, don't go! Christine, don't leave me!"

The attendants that had waited, respectfully, outside the door, rushed in and to their work. They felt her pulse, took the living child from her dead arms, and gently ushered the Viscomte out. He was about to be lead out the door, tender and timid as a lamb, still sobbing, when suddenly, he dug his heels into the carpet, and savagely snarled "No! Where is my daughter, bring me my daughter!" The nurses scurried and took the child from the mid-wife's arms, reluctantly pressing it into the man's. Mad with grief, he held the bundle, who had begun to cry, frightened at the sudden noise, missing the warmth of her mother's body.

Now the Viscomte was lead out the door, still sobbing. He showered kisses on the child's face. "Hush, hush, your mother can't be with you right now. I'm here, I'll protect you. I'll protect you as I couldn't protect her. Oh, Christine, I failed you. I'm so sorry, I love you!" His prayers to the angel of his heart that waited for him at heaven's pearly gate ceased as he tried to calm the child. "I love you, my little Angelique. I promise, no matter what happens, I will always love you. I'll protect you from monsters under the bed, and…..and phantoms that lurk. Phantoms that haunted your mother, phantoms that haunted me. I'll never let them touch you."

Someone forced the sobbing man into a chair as he tightly clutched his child, sobbing over her because he could not sob over the body of his dead wife.

To Be Continued….