Arc: ALW Musical
Character/Pairings: Raoul,R/C, Christine, Implied E/C
Word Count: 501
Summary: One-shot. Raoul reflects on Christine and their life together. Won runner-up in potocontest, Week 3
Everything about him was perfect. He had ten fingers and ten toes, two eyes and two ears, a nose and a mouth. His skin was fair and his hair was blonde, like his father's. His blue wide eyes stared back at him. Christine's eyes. Raoul cradled his first borne son in his arms and couldn't be happier.
The labor had been long and difficult. He was sure he had worn a hole in the parlor floor from his constant pacing as he heard Christine scream bloody murder. Doctors rushed in and out, worried looks on their faces. It lasted all day and all night. Raoul was so close to having a heart attack, they needed another doctor to keep him calm. A loud crescendo of screaming came from Christine's room and he couldn't help but notice that it was melodious, even now. The sudden silence echoed loudly through the de Chagny household, only to be pierced moments later by a loud, shrieking wail. His son. Charles.
Christine was tired, but he couldn't remember her looking more beautiful. Her skin was the color of marble, but her cheeks were flushed from exertion and joy. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears and she looked at him…
It was the first time he had seen her happy since that fateful night at the opera house. Raoul watched, amazed, as she held the tiny baby to her perfect breast. He had never loved her more than in that moment. He sat by her side, cradling her in his arms as she cradled Charles. His son.
But he knew, every time after she held that child, she wished he had been fathered by someone else. He heard her singing to Charles, soft lullabies in Swedish. She often sang to him long after he was asleep. It took Raoul a long time to realize she was singing to someone else. Her voice dipping into haunting melodies that made his heart ache with longing and sorrow. Raoul knew that Christine missed him.
And now as he held his perfect son to his chest, he wished he could be what she wanted. She still woke in the middle of the night and, when she thought he was asleep, gently touched the right side of his perfect face. Her frail hands gently caressing, disappointed to find a nose and soft skin every time. He saw how she looked at Charles, with endless aching in her eyes.
No matter how perfect Raoul was, no matter how much he loved her, she would always be searching, reaching, and wanting someone who wasn't there.