It had been a month since she'd torn the mask away from his face. A month she had spent crying herself to sleep each night in the bedroom that her tutor had set up for her in his home beneath the opera house. A month spent attending rehearsals and performances and returning to the darkness below.

She hadn't seen him unmasked in a month, but she couldn't get the sight of his horrid face to leave her mind. She could've traced the strange contours of bone and flesh by memory if asked.

As she hurried from the stage to her dressing room, she stopped for only a few moments when her friends would congratulate her on her performance.

"Christine, where have you been hiding? It's been weeks since I've seen you!" Meg cried, flinging her arms around her friend as she tried to retreat into her dressing room. She knew that her teacher, the man she once thought to be an angel of music, would be angry if she kept him waiting.

"Meg, I really must get changed, I've got dinner plans this evening. I'll talk to you tomorrow during rehearsals," Christine said quickly, her voice lacking emotion as she pushed her friend away. The last thing Christine saw before the door shut completely was Meg's pouting lower lip. Oh, how Christine's heart ached to be with her friend and to tell her the truth, that she was being held captive!

"The vicomte came to the performance this evening," her tutor's disembodied voice drifted through the mirror as Christine pulled the pins out of her hair, letting it cascade across her shoulders and chest in thick brown curls. She sighed deeply at the immediate reminder that she was not alone.

"Oh?" she asked, feigning disinterest. In truth, she had noticed the Vicomte de Chagny during the intermission. He'd come backstage and had even been looking for her, but she had hidden away in Carlotta's dressing room. She hoped that nobody ever found out that she'd gone into the diva's dressing room, but she'd had no choice! Had the Phantom seen her with him…

"He looked most displeased when he couldn't find you backstage."

"Well that's too bad," Christine said, shaking her head and running her hands through her hair to make sure she got all the pins out. As she worked to wipe her stage makeup off, she heard the subtle click of her full-length mirror opening. Moments later, she felt a cold hand against her shoulder. She fought the shudder that made her way through her body at his touch.

She forced herself to look up at him, over her shoulder. He stood a full head taller than her when she wore tall heels, and he was thin and bony with yellow-tinged skin. He smelled musty, and he was always quite cold to the touch.

Christine Daae had a pleasantly pink complexion that had already been quite pale before she'd been imprisoned in the catacombs. Now her skin verged on translucent! Still, she somehow managed to keep a cheery demeanor, her blue eyes sparkling with the same brilliance they had when she was a child and her world was still somewhat happy.

"You were wonderful," he said after a moment, and then his grip on her shoulder tightened, "But there is always room for improvement."

As Christine opened her mouth to reply, she was interrupted by a quiet knocking at her door. As she stood, she found her tutor had vanished, the mirror shut tight, as though it had never been opened. She wished she knew how he could move with such speed.

"Who's there?" she called.

"Little Lotte, have you been avoiding me?" the vicomte's voice both relieved and frightened her. She knew that she was being watched carefully as she opened the door, just a crack. She didn't want to give either man the wrong idea.

"Raoul," she said, "I really- I'm quite busy this evening, can we talk some other time?" She looked up at him with pleading eyes as he tried to push the door open further, but she stood firm.

"Christine?" he asked, "But-"

"You really must go, Raoul," she said, pushing the door shut with all her might. She locked it, too, to ensure that he wouldn't try to barge in. Oh, how she wanted to take his hand and run, just run and forget the opera house and the Opera Ghost! As she turned around again, she heard that same small click and she was not alone. One long-fingered, bony hand was extended to her, and with a shaking hand and a resigned sigh, she placed her hand into it and allowed herself to be led down to her home and her prison.