Hello everyone!

Here I am again, and again with a non-one-shot – I never thought I'd finish another longer story.:) While I've been writing I pictured it as a kind of sequel to Aftermath, but it can stand alone, also. There will be four chapters and I plan to post them weekly. Let me know what you think!

Ch01

"Do it again," he ordered and she nodded before starting to play again. It wasn't any different than the first time and Christine expected her husband demanding to repeat the piece she was learning, but instead of that he rounded the piano and stopped beside her, concern plainly obvious on his face.

"You look so pale. Are you well?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she said and turned back to the keys but then suddenly leapt to her feet. "Excuse me," she choked while rushing out of the room. Erik looked after her suspiciously and when she didn't return in two minutes, he lowered himself to the couch, counting all the possibilities she might not have told him.

When finally she came back after ten minutes or so she looked paler than before (if that was possible) but she didn't give him any excuse; she simply sat back to the piano as if nothing had happened. He stood up from the couch alarmed.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she lied. He sat down beside her.

"We don't have to finish this lesson if you don't feel well," he said gently while smoothing back some of her hair from her face and she granted him a weak smile.

"I'm fine," she rasped.

"I don't believe you," he said and dropped his hand. "You told me you were fine yesterday and the day before but I know you weren't. Now tell me."

"I didn't lie," she began, her eyes darting up to his. "There's nothing wrong with me. I…" She stopped, thinking about the best way how to tell him the truth. Days she might have spent with listing through the possible words she would describe him her current state but she still didn't have the best solution. Her eyes flickered up to his but that didn't help at all. "I'm with child," she blurted out finally. Tension of days was lifted from her shoulders in that moment; now she had to simply wait through his reaction, what wasn't any better.

"Are you…?" He started but couldn't finish; air disappeared and the walls started to close around him. He couldn't say that word. She couldn't be…

"Yes, I am with child," she answered calmly but he'd already jumped from the bench.

"Don't say it again!" He warned and walked from her as far as he was able.

"You're not happy for it…" She stated dumbly, finding herself too tired to make herself seem perfectly under control or to be ready to calm his temper. She deserved to be weak sometimes!

"How could I be?" He cried and turned towards her suddenly. "When did you think you'd tell me? If you wanted to let me know it at all."

"I didn't want to tell you like this. I wanted to tell you for days now, I just didn't know how."

"Since when do you know it?" He asked quietly, closing his eyes.

"I'm only sure for a week," she answered timidly, perfectly aware of the fact that she should have told him earlier. Now he was rightfully angry because of her hesitation.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He inquired, his voice still low and even. For a moment, Christine believed that he could be convinced to accept it more easily that she originally thought.

"I didn't know how to tell you. We've never talked about children so I thought…"

"That if you don't let me know I'll never notice it?" He demanded, his tone suddenly shrill and unforgiving.

She shuddered. The years she'd spent as his wife taught her not to be afraid of his anger; it never brought him to physical violence towards her, not even once. He had not just spoken about partnership in their marriage, Christine experienced it countless times that he meant it, too, for example when he asked her opinion about books or asked her which cadenza did she think would be better for this or that song. Except now. His implacability disappointed her – contrary that it was what she'd expected -, and at the same time, angered her. But the shudder was the result of the first.

"I did mean to tell you. Why are you holding this against me as if conceiving was my fault?" She asked finally, as calm as she was able to, but as she spoke the word that referred to her state he visibly shivered.

"I don't want any child!" He yelled and without another word, he was already out of the door, shutting it loudly behind himself.

Fury clouded her mind for a fairly long moment, wanting him to come back only to throw it in his face how exasperating and selfish he was, but as the moment passed, she broke down in hapless sobs. That was exactly what was she afraid of, the reason behind her hesitation. She should have spoken with him earlier about having a child but then that she didn't conceive for years, she didn't bring it up. In fact, she began to worry that maybe she'll never be a mother and then was so overly glad that it happened.

But the problem was already there: how best to tell her husband.

"You'd better get used to his temper now because he wouldn't change," Christine murmured softly to her unborn baby while laughing at her current weeping - she hadn't cried over their arguments in ages. The sulking after their arguments never lasted longer than a few hours on either of their sides, and after then everything was back to normal. Eventually during the years of their marriage Christine learnt to ignore their fights just like Erik. What a pity that pregnancy's all symptoms seemed to find her!

Wiping away the tears frustrated, she rose from her seat and began pacing around the room then around the house, not staying in one room more than two minutes. He will come back – eventually. Hopefully he wouldn't stay away for the whole day – or what is worse, days even! No. He would come back, she just had to wait until he did so.

At some point, she became hungry and ate what she found, not bothering to prepare a decent dinner; then she tried to read, but after finding that she was reading the same line for the twelfth time, she stopped that, too. Nightfall came and then it became completely dark outside but she was still alone. What if he wouldn't come back at all? It was ridiculous to think that he would abandon her because of a simple fight but the thought couldn't convince her.

He will come back.

He will come back.

In the end, she found her place in front of the window, wishing to catch a glimpse of his tall frame in the darkness and yearning for the moment he would be back in the house again.

He will come back.

She was crying again but made no attempt to make her tears stop. No one saw her so what did it matter? One hand lifted to wipe away a few of them but there were other ones to take their place.

"Please stop crying; your tears are killing me," came his soft voice from the direction of the door and she turned towards him – he really looked miserable. As wicked as it sounded, she was still quite satisfied with the fact.

"You're so stubborn," she growled while she was fighting to make her tears disappear – their effect remained there, though.

"You are as well," he answered as he took several steps towards her and Christine didn't hesitate to run to him – his arms went around her as if she was made of glass. Was it because of the child or because of his uncertainty, she didn't know.

"Why?" She whispered to his chest.

"You're still here, aren't you?"

"I'll always be here," she answered and snuggled up to him, breathing him in – it was so long ago that she'd last felt him so near. The mere hours seemed days when he was far away.

"Christine, forgive me," he choked and tightened his grasp on her; his voice broke on the last syllable. For a very long while only his labored breathing could be heard and Christine waited patiently, just in case he had any intention to continue. He had.

"I've been so frightened," he whispered minutes later and Christine stood a little straighter. This was about partnership and letting her know his fears was one of the things she appreciated the most. He could have very well refused her to see him in his weakness – but he didn't. He could have dealt with this alone but she didn't want him to. They were friends, after all.

"I still am," he finished. Now his voice was barely audible, a loud thought, nothing more.

"Why?" She asked him, not breaking their tight embrace.

He gave a short, bitter laugh. "It's always the same. I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," she hurried to assure him but she felt his head moving from side to side.

"Giving birth was never a safe occurrence," he explained but somehow his reason didn't sound sincere in her ears.

"But that's not what you meant, is it?"

Silence.

"No," he blurted out finally.

"But?"

"I don't want you to have anyone beside me." He was angry now, most probably because he didn't wish her to know about this, but then again, he could have refused to tell it. "Anyone," he repeated emphatically.

"But a child, Erik? Our child?"

No answer.

"A little child who would be like you and me? A little representation of both of us."

"Yes, what a wonderful life he or she would have."

It was odd. In one moment he clearly declared how he didn't want to have anybody who he would have to share Christine with, yet in the next moment he was worrying about their child's life, should she or he inherit his – misfortune. How could be the two troubling him at the same time?

"Our child wouldn't necessary inherit your face, Erik," Christine tried; it was without effect.

"Why? How do you know?" He pulled back fervently, taking her elbows in his palms. "How can you tell me for sure? Do you think my mother saw this coming?"

"If… if it didn't happen… in your family before… maybe – maybe it won't pass to your child, either." Christine answered; it occurred to her too late that it would have meant that it was only him who had to live with such a curse. Not very comforting.

"I don't want it." Whether he meant it to a child or a deformed child it didn't turn out from his grave tone.

"I will love her or him whether he or she would be deformed or not," Christine said gently while cupping his cheek in her palm, lifting his head to look into his eyes. "I already do."

"It's a she," he corrected her as if this information should have been clear for her as well.

"Is it?" She retorted, venturing to allow herself a small smile.

"Yes."

Her hand slid from his face to his chest where he captured it with his. She took a full breath and exhaled quickly.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. This was exactly what I wanted to avoid," she said at last.

"I love you," he breathed against her forehead before kissing it reverently.

"You know that I love you, too," she answered in the same tone, moving her arms around his back.

"But your child…"

"Loving our child doesn't affect my feelings for you. I can love you both," she assured him.

Later that night they climbed into bed together, cuddling up to their usual position before falling asleep. He rested his hand on her stomach, not being able to decide whether it was his hope or his greatest fear that the child would disappear during the night.