Christophe was woken by a pillow to the face. "Mark, get off of me."

The young blonde man removed the pillow only to smack it down again. "Come on, Christophe, we've got rehearsal in seven minutes!"

Christophe sat bolt upright, throwing the lighter youth off of him. "Seven minutes? Why didn't you wake me sooner?" He frantically threw on his costume and headed for the spiral staircase that took him out of the opera house dorms and into the backstage area.

The two chorus boys could hear the lead tenor, Carl, already biting into that poor solo number. The man was a great name and attracted people, but those high notes were starting to sound more and more painful, especially to Christophe. Jealousy couldn't be banished entirely from his emotions when he heard that man sing pieces that were clearly not for the older man's range but would have suited Christophe's youthful voice just fine. But no, the man's reputation was too great, and Christophe was just a chorus boy with a good voice and exceptional ballet training and skill.

While they quickly assumed their place in the dancing lineup with their partners for the ball scene, Mark spotted someone making their way through the crowd. Still facing in the direction of their first dance step, he whispered to his curly-haired friend, "Check those three out."

Christophe leaned towards him, still facing the front and ready for action. "Which three?"

"The two fops in top hats and their lady friend. I think that's the manager with them."

Christophe rose to pointe position, looking over the heads of the couple in front of him. "Don't talk like that. But yeah, you're right, it is him. Don't tell me one of those is his…"

"Yeah," said Mark who had joined his friend in the air. "I guess he is retiring. Wonder which one of the bunch we're stuck with and who the other two are. Wait…" He hopped into the air, just a little. "Does the girl seem familiar to you?"

Christophe mimicked his friend's actions. "I think that's the Countess de Chagny. Wasn't Rachel her first name?"

"Yeah. But she only comes here for the performances. What's she doing here during rehearsal?"

They found out when their manager interrupted the music to announce that he was retiring and to introduce them to the two 'fops', as Mark had so eloquently put it. Their new managers were Monsieur Reyer and Monsieur Lefèvre, who were very keen to please their lady patron, who was indeed the Countess. The two men had made their fortunes in the junk business, and probably didn't have the first idea of how to run a theater, let alone the Opera Popular. Mark pitied them.

Now Carl was getting off the stage and the ball scene had commenced. Christophe and Mark flew their partners through the air, allowing them the appearance of lightness while supporting their every movement. Mark was entirely caught up in the dancing. He may have been training for as many years as Christophe, but he still didn't have the boy's natural grace. He didn't really mind though. They were good friends, and Christophe had never acted superior to Mark because of his dancing or voice. Christophe wasn't quite so lucky. His skill allowed him to take in the rest of the company. They were all dancing smoothly, so there wasn't much to catch his attention until he spotted the onlookers.

The Countess was staring right at him.

And she looked hungry.

He put the look out of his mind, saying that she was just entranced by the dancing, and played out the rest of the number without problem. Apparently, the managers had been talking about the ballet dancers within earshot of Carl, and he hadn't liked their blatent ignoring of who he considered to be the most important part of the show; himself. So he decided to throw a fit to get their attention.

"If the dancers intrigue you so much perhaps we should cut out the singing altogether! I will not be a part of a ballet performance, Monsieurs." He started to walk out, knowing they would chase after him.

They did, and practically begged him to sing his favorite part of the show. So, of course, he oblidged.

"Your hair, how it shines, my sweet.

Your eyes, so ablaze with music.

And when you unmask that smile,

My heart beats so hard I lose it.

Oh, how I long to throw away

The tawdry light"

Before the man could finish the line, a backdrop plummeted from its place in the rigging and hit the man in the back, knocking him to the ground without actually hurting him. Most of the cast looked to see if the man was alright, including Mark.

Christophe was the only one who looked up. So, he was the only one who saw the flitting figure cross into the darkness of the wings. And he smiled.

Now Carl was truly furious. This was beyond grabbing attention. His life had been threatened! There was no way he was staying in this opera house now, and he told the managers this in as loud a tone as possible. He fled the theater and sent the managers into frenzy.

"Surely there must be an understudy?" Said one, the short one with the curly hair.

The taller one hit him over the head. "Of course not. You cast someone like that for their name. No, we'll have to refund the whole house." Mark was surprised. So one of the men actually did know what he was talking about.

He was even more surprised when the conductor said, "Why not cast someone else? Christophe Daee has a fantastic voice." Mark looked over at his friend who was hurrying to the front. The director smiled at the younger man. "Let's try it from the top of what Monsieur Carl was just singing." He did, and was cast as the lead role for the first time in his life. Mark couldn't believe his friend's luck. But Christophe knew it hadn't been luck. It had been his angel.

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