Calista stared blankly in front of her before blurting out, "What did you call me?"

"Callie,"

"How did you know my nickname?"
A dark from stepped into the light, "Callie, it's me. It's-"

"Erik…" she breathed. They stared at each other before Calista closed the small distance between them and threw her arms around him. "I can't believe it's you," she murmured into his chest. Erik stiffened and patted her back awkwardly as she sniffed loudly as if she was crying. Then suddenly, Calista pulled back and slapped him hard across the face, knocking his mask to the floor.

"What was that for!" he yelled as he dropped to his knees, covering his face, searching for his mask.

"You left without a word. With all my parents and I had done for you… I thought you had been killed!" she looked down at him groping around on the floor for his mask and Calista snapped at him, "Don't bother, its not like I haven't seen you without it before."

Erik stood up slowly and lowered his hand from the ravaged side of his face, "I'm sorry?" It came out as a question rather than a statement. Calista only growled at him and kneed him hard in the groin, causing him to fall to the floor clutching himself. "What was that for?" he grunted.

"Good measure," Calista began to walk out of the box.

"Callie, wait!" Erik cried, his voice a little high.

"No Erik, when you have composed yourself, you know where to find me." She put the tips of her fingers to her head as if she had a headache, "Erik, give me a day to think okay? I will talk to you after the performance on the roof." Calista walked out the door and then walked back in, "Sorry about the uh… knee thing."

Erik only grunted.

After Erik had been able to stand up and wobble down to his lair, he poured himself a large glass of wine and set down in his library. He picked up a large tome and opened to his current page. The words only swam across the page. He couldn't take his mind off Calista, and probably wouldn't for a while due to the throbbing bruise she left on his cheek. Erik envisioned her as the eight year old he saw last; a sweet, even, if slightly bucktoothed smile, warm blue eyes, soft black curls framed her face… But now… Calista had grown out of her baby fat and shot up almost two feet. The swell of her chest and the curve of her hips drew his attention away from her face more than a few times. Callie had certainly grown up.

But of course, she didn't compare to his angel.

"Christine…" Erik sighed and finished his wine before going to work on Don Juan Triumphant.

Calista slumped into her bed for a few hours of sleep before the final dress rehearsal. The last thought on her mind was Erik and her lips wrapped around his name as she fell asleep with a smile on her face.

"Look at Calista," a whisper stirred Calista from a deep, pleasantly dream filled sleep. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at the wall, deciding to feign sleep.

"I know," Christine whispered, looking at Meg, "Do you think she met a lover?"

A childhood one perhaps, Calista thought ruefully.

"Maybe…" Meg said.

"Do you think she did anything scandalous?"

"Of course I did!" Calista rolled over laughing, "And while I was out I shaved my eyebrows off."

Meg squinted, "Really? Hm, so how is your mysterious lover?"

"Is he a steamy, passionate lover?" Christine asked wide-eyed.

"You know I wouldn't want it any other way," Calista whispered, sitting up. Christine and Meg's eyes widened at the same time and the laughs dropped away from their faces at the same time. "What's wrong?" Calista asked. "Don't you want to know how passionate my lover is?"

Christine pointed behind Calista. Slowly, Calista turned around only to come face to face with Madame Giry. Her eyebrow as raised with a questioning expression on her face.

"A passionate lover, Calista, could be the end of your career here," she said.

"I was joking Madame Giry," Calista choked out.

"Is that why you are still dressed?"

"Um… well… you see-"

"I don't want to hear it, just change, and be on stage in twenty minutes." Giry sighed and hobbled out.

Christine and Meg erupted into peals of laughter as Calista buried her red face in her hands. "You should have seen your face!" Meg howled.

"Shut up," Calista moaned.

The girls quieted soon after and hurried onstage. Rehearsal went smoothly and soon the girls and Michael and Colin were strolling in the park, talking about their scheme.

"Okay Meg, after you go off stage, you pull the switch, alright?" Christine instructed.

"Yeah," Meg nodded.

Calista yawned as everyone else murmured about how Carlotta would react. "Sorry," she grinned sheepishly, "I'm really tired."

"She has a mysterious lover," Christine whispered to Michael.

"And is this a lover I would approve of?" Michael asked with raised eyebrows.

"I don't have a lover." Calista muttered darkly.

"My, aren't we bitter?" Christine laughed.

"Not at all, but you see, I really don't have a lover." Christine flushed crimson all the way to her chocolate roots.

"Is this a lover I would approve of?" Colin teased.

"You would disapprove of the Vicomte?" Meg gasped, faking shock.

"Raoul is not my lover, friend maybe, but not lover. Not even friend… I don't know." Christine stumbled over her words, causing everyone to laugh.

"Of course not," Meg giggled, "that's why you were gone so long."

"I wasn't with Raoul!" Everyone stopped at Christine's outburst. She shook her head, "I'm sorry. I'm sleep deprived and not because I have a lover." They all laughed and strolled back to the opera house.

Once inside, they ran through their parts and retreated to the dormitories. Christine and Meg laid down for a nap, but Calista took out her journal and stated sketching. A small boy that huddled in a cage with a sack over his head emerged from the page. It was similar to the rest of her drawings of Erik. Sighing, she snapped it shut and ambled out the door.

She walked through the corridors then backstage and up a rickety spiral staircase. Opening the heavy metal door, Calista welcomed the bite of the cold air as it cleared her senses. The base of Apollo's Lyre seemed as good a place as any to sit, and Calista arranged her skirts around her knees as she watched the clouds move over the Paris skyline. The sun was directly above her head when a voice spoke suddenly, "Your singing is almost worse than Carlotta's you know."

Gasping, Calista stood quickly and hit the crown of her head on the stone statue. "Ow!" she raised her hand to her head.

A large black figure swung down from the statue and stood in front of her, "Have you forgotten everything I taught you? And why are you singing soprano? You are an alto, you had to strain to hit half the notes you sang." Erik glared sternly at her, and then his gaze became confused at Calista's expression. "Calista, what's wrong? Callie… are you okay?"

Dazed, Calista took her hand off the back of her head. It was covered in a thick red liquid. She stared down at it, "Blood," she whispered and looked up with wide eyes.

"Yes- wait, what?"

"I'm bleeding," saying that, Calista fainted and was only saved from hitting the ground by Erik's cat like reflexes.

"Damn," Erik muttered and shifted his weight to better carry her to his lair.

Calista began stirring about half way to the lair. Her eyes fluttered open, but it was just as dark as when her eyes were shut. A pair of strong arms cradled her close to a muscular chest and a slightly musky, masculine sent filled her nostrils. Suddenly a sharp pain laced through Calista's head, causing her to cry out in pain.

"Sh," a voice murmured.

"Erik?"

"Yes,"

"Where are you taking me?"

"To my home, I need to look at your head."

"Oh," Calista sighed and wound her arms around Erik's and buried her face in the crook of his neck. The rest of the journey was silent.

Erik helped Calista out of the gondola and into a bedroom then went to look for some bandages and warm water. Calista looked around the room and noted the well made mahogany furniture and the warm velvet blankets she was sitting on. The bed was shaped as a swan with a gently sloping neck and kind eyes.

Quickly, Erik strode back into the room and sat on the edge of the bed, "Turn around please."

"What?" Calista asked confused.

"I need to be able to access the cut on the back of your head. Turn around please." Enunciating each word slowly, Erik repeated what he had said. Calista shook her head a bit, trying to clear it and she turned around, tucking her legs up under her.

Erik slid off his leather gloves and parted Calista's hair away from the bloodied area. He dipped a rag in the warm water and gently cleaned the cut. After inspecting it, Erik wrapped her head in a light bandage and Calista turned around to face him.

"It was pretty shallow, so you can take the bandage off before the performance tonight, but be careful not to hit it again. It will be sore for a few days."

Calista smiled, "Thank you."

"It was nothing," Erik got up to leave.

"Erik,"

"Yes Callie?"

"I'm sorry about yesterday. You surprised me and I wasn't thinking very straight… Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Erik smiled slightly and silence stretched between the two. Calista sat playing with the pleats and lace of her dress and Erik was studying her profile comparing it to the child he knew before.

"Do you go up to the roof often?" Calista asked.

"Whenever I feel the need to think or clear my head, and since that is quite often, yes I suppose I do."

Calista nodded, "How come I have never seen you then?"

"If I do not wish to be seen, I am not seen."

"Have you seen me before?"

After a pause for thought, Erik nodded, "Yes, but I never made the connection it was you because you have changed so much."

Calista gave a dry laugh, "Yes I have haven't I?"

Erik nodded again then said, "Come, you should go back."

Calista let Erik lead her up to the main level of the opera house, and she kissed his exposed cheek, "Thank you!"

"You are welcome…" Erik's brow furrowed at the unexpected contact and he watched as Calista flounced away, the white of the bandage in sharp contrast with the dark raven color of her hair.

A few hours passed till it was time for the opera to start. The auditorium was full of the sounds of the upper crust of Parisian society shuffling about, getting to their seats, and gossiping amicably. In the orchestra pit, the musicians were warming up their instruments and behind the curtain, the dull roar of actors, dancers, and stagehands getting ready filled everyone's ears.

Erik stood in the shadows of the catwalks as he surveyed his world below him. He had written a few last minute letters one in particular to Reyer, detailing the pitch of the music. But much to his dismay, Carlotta had wormed her way past his threats and was going to be the Countess. A disaster beyond their imagination shall occur. His words rang in his head. He actually hadn't planned anything because to the extent of his knowledge, he had the managers cowed into doing anything he asked… or commanded. New managers must be broken. He thought, and slipped away to think of a "disaster" as he had promised.

"Me… Me…" Carlotta stretched her vocal cords as her throat was sprayed to her satisfaction.

Meg, Christine, and Calista stretched languidly and waited till it was time to get in place. When the managers slipped out to talk to the audience, everyone got into place.

"Co-Ack," Christine muttered before she sauntered off, assuming her role of Serafimo. Calista and Meg giggled and Calista slipped between Michael and Colin, and Meg tiptoed to her place as the maid.

Calista swayed in time to the overture and as it went into the introduction, she noticed it was lower. It wasn't being played for a soprano; it was for an alto… Erik… she thought. She sighed a bit as the curtains opened and she looked at Michael and Colin with a slight smirk on her face before starting.

"They say that this youth has set my lady's heart aflame!" Calista's rich alto voice poured over the audience, causing them to titter with excitement. Usually only sopranos got solo singing parts at the Opera Populaire unless the music specifically called for that. It was quite a pleasing change to hear a rich tone instead of a shrill one such as Carlotta's.

"His lordship sure would die of shock."

"His lordship is a laughing stock." Colin scoffed

"Should he suspect her God protect her,"

"Shame, shame, shame, this faithless lady's bound for Hades… shame, shame, shame."

Calista watched on as Carlotta sang to Christine and she felt her head twinge under the weight of the powdered white wig she was wearing.

"Gentle wife admit your loving husband."

Gentle wife, pah! Calista thought. The midget stumbled over to stage right and Calista gave him a hard glare, "Don't you dare," she hissed and he slunk back a bit.

"Time I tried to get a better, better half." Carlotta trilled.

"Poor fool, he doesn't know. If he knew he'd never go!"

"Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be kept empty?" A loud voice rang out and echoed around the auditorium.

"He's here the Phantom of the Opera." Meg whispered.

"It's him." Christine breathed.

"Erik," Calista growled.

"Your part is silent little toad!" Carlotta snapped at Christine.

The audience's whispers grew in volume and Carlotta tried to calm them down after spraying her throat liberally. The trio of girls smirked at each other and Colin and Michael only rolled his eyes as if praying to Heaven for this to be a secret.

"Serafimo away with this pretense you cannot speak but kiss me in my…" An animalistic sound came from Carlotta's throat as if her throat had gone suddenly dry. After a few more futile attempts at singing, she ran off the stage crying, sending everyone else into peals of laughter.

Calista looked up at the catwalks and saw Erik smirking down at her; she smiled up at him, getting a rare smile in return.

The heavy red curtains drew in front of the stage and Firmin and Andre bumbled out, from behind the curtain they could be heard apologizing to the crown and Firmin's hand shot back onto the stage and caught a hold of Christine "The performance shall continue in ten minutes time… when the role of the countess shall be played by Christine Daae." A deafening roar rose up from the crowd.

"Meanwhile, we would like to give you the ballet from Act Three of tonight's opera." Andre stuttered. Upon those words, Calista and Meg ran backstage to tear off their current costumes and slip into their ballet ones.

Once they came back out, they found the dancers to be a bumbling mess as the sheep weren't cooperating and the actors had to sprint across stage to fix things. Calista closed her eyes as she recalled the dance steps and let them take her away for a few minutes till she was yanked to the side by Meg and screams of horror rung through the opera house.

"What?" she asked Meg, confused.

"Look," Meg pointed, eyes wide with horror. Calista followed her finger and looked upon the dead gaze of Joseph Buquet.