My days in the De Chagney household passed slowly and uneventfully. I spent most of my time in the small room on the second floor, only leaving to venture to the library when I needed a change of scenery. Rauol delivered my meals himself, sometimes accompanied by a courageous maid named Marie, who I became acquainted with rather quickly. She seemed to always have some excuse to come to my room, often stayed to talk to me for hours at a time. The rest of the day was spent speaking to Rauol of the news and examining myself in the mirror.

After only a few days, my strength had returned to me, and I could remain awake throughout the entire day. The scars on my neck and shoulder were so slight that they did not hurt anymore, but my face continued to be tender to the touch. I figured that it always would. It had been that way for him.

Sometimes during these days, while staring in the mirror, I was struck with an idea. It entered my mind quickly and discreetly, but stayed there, gnawing itself a home inside my head, for what seemed like an eternity. I tried to vanquish it, hoping that, if it was ignored, it would cease to bother me. But, with the constant reminder of my deformity staring me down from the mirror, it was not easily overlooked.

One evening during my meal with Rauol, he brought out the topic that I had been dreading.

"I believe it's about time for a wedding, don't you?" he teased, glancing across the table and winking. His eyes took one brief glance at my left hand, where his ring had once been worn for another man. Just the thought brought a lump to my throat.

I swallowed and took a deep breath before saying, "I was under the impressions that your plans had changed."

Rauol gave a start, and then reached to grab my hand. I pulled it away. He sighed, his eyes pleading. "You know how I feel about you!" he cried. "Do you think that this would change that?"

"Where will the wedding be held?" I asked plainly.

"Here," he explained, "in three days' time."

At that, I met him with a startled look. "Three days?" I wailed. "That gives us no time! Everyone's left town since the fire. Why, how will Meg and Madame Giry find a way here in three days?"

Rauol, smiling, grabbed both of my hands before I could pull them out of the way. "It will just be us, Lotte – you, Philippe, and I. It will be quick and simple, and then we can begin our lives together."

He gave me an expectant look, which I returned by standing and walking to the nearest window. The normally bustling streets were empty, and rain assaulted the window pane. Grey clouds rolled across the sky in an endless blanket, drawing all color from the landscape.

Rauol had offered me what I had so often longed for: a new beginning, a chance to build a new life. I could be anyone I wanted to be. I could leave the opera behind and never sing again. I could be a housewife and, someday, a mother. I could live somewhere far from the busy streets of Paris, where I would not be judged, where my face would be kept away from prying eyes.

Is that what Rauol wanted? Did he plan a private wedding specifically for that purpose, to keep me hidden? Surely he was better than that. Surely my face would not mar his social status any further than the occurrences at the Opera Populaire already had. Still, I wondered.

I turned back to Rauol, who still sat at the table, looking eager. "I will think about it tonight," I stated, not showing any emotion.

Looking hurt, he folded his napkin, stood, and left the room without a backward glance.

The rain persisted long into the night, and I sat for hours on the window seat watching the clouds change shapes. In the distance, I could see the roof of my beloved opera house, though I was sure only horrors resided there now. It had probably already been stripped by hungry reporters searching for some proof of the famed Opera Ghost. With that thought, my vicious idea sprang back to mind, so powerful that I knew it must not be ignored any longer.

Grabbing a lighter candle, I hurried to the library. I knew from my previous trips that, in a desk in the very center of the room, I would find paste and paper in abundance. Seizing my prize, I shut the door behind me and continued down the hall.

On the way back to my room, I noticed a small strip of light radiating from underneath Rauol's bedroom door. Quietly, I bent down to press my eye to the keyhole. At first, I only saw the bright candle at his bedside, but, as my eyes adjusted, I could clearly make out Rauol's face. He sat on the edge of his mattress, running his fingers through his hair. With a sigh, he brought his gaze to the ceiling, and I thought I saw a tear slide down his cheek.

Leaving the scene behind me, I tried not to think of the reason for his tears.

I returned to my room, locking the door behind me. Then, I set to work cutting, shaping, molding, pasting. My hands, covered in the thick adhesive, shook so strongly that I had trouble even grasping the scissors. That night, I made two more trips to the library in search of supplies, each time pausing to make sure that Rauol had not been disturbed. On my second trip, I sighed in relief as I noticed his figure curled on top of the sheets sound asleep.

By the time I had finished my project, the rain outside had become a furious storm, the wind tearing its unseen claws into the glass of my window. My breath racing, I wondered whether or not I would ever forgive myself for the horrid thing that I was about to do.

I stood before the mirror with my creation in my hands. A mask. A very fine mask, actually, and an almost perfect replica of his, only reflected to fit over my scars. With all the courage I could muster, I lifted it to my face, closing my eyes until the string was carefully fitted around my head.

As I opened my eyes, I could not control the smile that played on my lips. There it was, the face that I had been longing to see since the day I had left him. Almost. It wasn't quite his face, but it was most certainly not Christine Daae's. I looked darker, more mysterious, and still more beautiful. Instantly, I felt the appeal that Erik must have had for this grand ruse. I was unrecognizable, and yet an angel worthy of inhabiting the most dreadful nightmares.

"Oh, if only you could see me now," I whispered to the reflection, and it adopted my longing gaze.

Finally, I turned from the mirror, my mind turning with desperation. In a trunk at the foot of my bed, I found a simple dress and a black, hooded cloak. I knew that, with the frightening weather, a hooded figure would not seem too bizarre if seen rushing down the streets. Using some extra parchment, I wrote a simple message to Rauol, taking it under my cloak with the mask.

As I turned the corner of the hall to go down the stairs, I nearly ran into Marie, the maid. My face startled her in the darkness, and she brought her hand to her chest as if to calm her upset heart.

"Miss Daae!" she gasped. "You scared me!"

"Please forgive me," I said, hoping she would not be too loud. The last thing I wanted was to be forced to confront Rauol.

She must have guessed, because she whispered, "Why are you out of bed? And dressed!"

This stopped me. I had been sure that she would ask, but had not a clue as to how to reply. Did I dare tell her? She had been the only servant who had come to comfort and assist me. She was, however, also the youngest. My guess was that she was a year of two younger than I, but, standing there at the top of the staircase with her head cocked to one side, she looked absolutely child-like. I sighed, preparing my excuse, but she was too quick and caught me off guard.

"You're going to find him!" she gasped, reaching a hand out to grasp my arm.

I only managed to stutter, "What? Who?"

"The Opera Ghost!" Marie cried. "Your kidnapper! You're going to return to him!"

Hurriedly, I quieted her. "Yes!" I whispered. "Please do not tell Rauol that you know! I can't marry him, Marie. You simply cannot understand how urgent this is."

"You love him," she said. Bowing her head, she added, "I overheard the Vicompte telling his brother the story. You accepted the Opera Ghost's proposal, but he let you go free."

I was shocked. Rauol had told? And he had been foolish enough to let his servant overhear?

I grabbed onto Marie's shoulders, staring her straight in the face. She did not act afraid, only expectant.

"Yes," I told her, "that is exactly what happened. Still, I cannot marry the Vicompte, especially after what has happened. I need to see Er-… the Opera Ghost. I plan to find him and stay with him, if he will have me. If, for some reason, I cannot find him and I must return here, I will marry Rauol, and you will forget this meeting. Will you promise me that?"

Marie nodded vigorously, the bun on the back of her head bouncing. I pulled the note from my cloak, pressing it into her hand.

"If I have not returned by noon tomorrow, you are to give this to Rauol. Tell him that I left it with you, but that you do not know where I have gone." I smiled, cupping her cheek in my hand. I felt her tear hit the skin on my thumb. "You are so beautiful, mon ami, and you have shown me such kindness. One day, I will come back and visit you. Stay safe, and remember that you are not alone."

She laughed once and whipped the tears from her face. "You are so brave, Miss Daae," she whispered, "and, someday, you will sing at the Opera Populaire once again!"

"Then you must come hear me," I teased. She reminded me of a younger, gentler Meg, or perhaps a less stubborn version of myself. I couldn't help but love her.

"You will remain in my prayers," she said, stepping back so as to let me down the stairs.

"And you mine," I promised. Pulling out the mask and placing it on my face, I added, "The Angel of Music watches over you." With that, I descended the stairs, smiling to myself at the look of awe that had overcome her features.

The rain hit me full-force as I left the house, but it did not penetrate the thick hood of the cloak. I set off on foot in the general direction of the opera house, trying not to remember the heartless goodbye that Rauol would find in the morning:

"Do not come looking for me."

I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, but I do own the character of Marie. If anyone was wondering, "mon ami" is "friend" in French. I realize that Christine was not born in France, but I thought it fit.