I'm a long way from the one that I loved.

I've been tending old flames, lamenting what was,

Drifting in a land time forgot...

~ Way Out There, Lord Huron

"Who's there?" the voice asked once more, sending another shiver down the chorus girl's spine. The sound of snow crunching underneath boots was deafening to Laure. Tears streaked down her face again, her already raw eyes stinging even more. She squeezed her eyes shut as a gloved hand gripped her hair and yanked her to her feet. The man pulled her hair back so she had to stare directly up at him.

"P-Please, monsieur…I won't….I won't tell anybody what I've seen," she begged. The Opera Ghost sneered at her.

"Indeed, I can't imagine you will." Laure's heart dropped as his other hand closed around her throat.

"Please, monsieur, my mother…She…" She stopped as his grip tightened, cutting off her air supply. "Giry," she choked out as the corners of her vision blurred. She was going to die, she was certain of it, but she had to try. She used every bit of her strength to claw at the Phantom's wrist. He leaned in closer, baring his teeth. She gasped as his grip loosened.

"What did you say?"

"Giry, my mother," she sobbed. "Madame Giry…She helps you…Please, monsieur, I won't tell; just let me go." Her voice broke as his hold on her eased at last. He released her, letting her drop onto the snowy ground. Sputtering to catch her breath, she sobbed coarsely.

"Speak not a word of this to anyone," he growled. "If you do, I swear that you won't have a chance to plead again, aides be damned." Laure quickly nodded, and with a flourish of his cape, the Phantom disappeared, leaving the chorus girl shivering and crying. She allowed herself a few moments to catch her breath before forcing herself up and returning to the opera house, her legs shaky and balance wavering.

A loud crash, along with the screams that followed nearly made Laure jump out of her skin. Before she had a chance to react, her sister called out to her desperately.

"Laure! Thank God you're all right!" The younger Giry daughter threw her arms around the elder's waist. "Where on earth did you go?"

"The rooftop," Laure replied as evenly as possible. "What happened?"

"The chandelier. Christine had just taken her place onstage, and it dropped into the audience!" Laure felt her heart stop for a moment, the Opera Ghost's voice echoing in her mind.

'Behold, she is singing to bring down the chandelier!'

"Is everyone all right?" Meg bit her lip.

"We don't know. It happened so fast; I can't imagine that the people beneath it had time to escape."

"Jesus…Where's Mother? And Christine…is she all right?"

"Yes, Mother took her to her dressing room. She told me to look for you and meet her once I found you." Laure nodded and trudged to the dressing room, her sister following closely behind. The two remained silent the entire way, doing their best to ignore the cries of the people who were hurt and the shouts of those trying to help them.

"Oh, thank God, Laure!" Madame Giry exclaimed upon seeing her older daughter.

"Mother," Laure choked, hugging the ballet mistress tightly.

"Where were you? You had us all worried sick!"

"The…the rooftop," she managed.

"The rooftop?" repeated a fourth woman. Christine. Laure locked eyes with the lead soprano, noticing the worry they held.

"Christine," she began, pulling away from her mother, "You have to go, while you still can. There's no time to waste. Hurry." Biting her lip, Christine nodded.

"What happened?" Madame Giry asked. "Did something…?"

"Don't worry about it, Mother," Laure asserted, recalling the Phantom's threat. After the events that had taken place that night, she couldn't afford to call his bluff. She hugged Christine tightly.

"Don't come back here, Christine. It's not safe for you."

"Raoul…He's waiting for me. I have to go," she said softly. Christine embraced the ballet mistress and her other daughter. "Goodbye. Thank you all so much, for everything." The sound of the door closing resonated within all three women.

Several silent moments passed before Laure too left with no protest from her mother or sister, much to her chagrin. The room was suffocating her. The opera house was suffocating her, really. She first traversed to her room, where she removed the rest of her makeup and changed into a dressing gown. She breathed a sigh of relief once she had changed; she felt much lighter without the heavy costume.

Hugging her arms around herself, she wandered through the corridors, flashes of memory darting through her mind. Buquet's body hanging above the stage, that horrible laugh, the feeling of the Phantom's hand around her throat, the bone-white mask he wore.

A quiet sob pulled Laure from her racing thoughts. She glanced down to see a brown-haired man slumped against the wall, tears falling from his ocean eyes.

"Alexandre?" she called softly, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. He startled at her touch, damp eyes meeting hers.

"Laure." Although he did his best to compose himself, his voice still broke. "Are you all right?" She nodded hesitantly.

"Are you?" He forced a smile.

"I will be." He stared up at the ceiling, visibly fighting back more tears. "My mother…She finally came to see one of our shows. I finally convinced her…" He inhaled sharply, squeezing his eyes shut. "She was underneath the chandelier."

"Mon Dieu," Laure gasped. "Alexandre, I'm so sorry." He said nothing in response. Laure took in his disheveled appearance, clothes filthy from assisting those who moved parts of the chandelier, hair mussed, and face red. Her heart twisted in pain as he sank down to the ground.

She knelt beside him and tightly embraced him. They stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity, the young dancer sobbing in the arms of the chorus girl, who soon too broke down.

Laure supposed she fell asleep with him like that, though she couldn't remember it. Nor could she recall being carried back to her room by a pair of strong, muscular arms.

She woke up, not to her sister's usual chattering and bustling about, but to a silent, empty room. She sat up and stretched, sighing softly. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion when a white envelope caught her eye. She reached over and plucked it off the chipped night table, gingerly opening the envelope.

"Mlle. Laure Giry –

I give you my most sincere thanks for comforting me yesterday evening. I'm well aware that I wasn't in a favorable state last night, and I greatly appreciate your sympathy."

Laure let out a gasp as she recalled the events that had taken place the night prior. She raised a hand to her mouth, remembering the Opera Ghost. She hurried to the mirror, emitting a horrified cry when she saw the dark bruises marring her neck. Crimson and orchid danced across her fair skin, five dark fingerprints and the outline of a large palm decorating her flesh like a grotesque necklace. A trembling hand reached up to lightly touch it. She winced at the pain that followed, dull but prevalent nonetheless. Tearing her eyes away from her reflection, she continued to read the note.

"I'm aware of how dreadful this sounds, but I've only just gained the courage to ask you. I've been desperate to ask you this for years now, but I've been horrified of rejection."

Laure's eyes widened as they scanned the parchment. Surely, he wasn't…

"I understand how cowardly it is to ask this of you in a letter, but I couldn't bear to ask you in person. But, please, consider this. It would be my greatest pleasure if you would allow me to court you. Your mother has given me her approval, and I sincerely hope you consider accepting my request.

"If your answer is yes, please meet me at seven o'clock this evening in the grand foyer. I'll be eagerly awaiting your response~

Yours, most sincerely,

Alexandre Levesque"

A wide smile stretched across Laure's cheeks. In spite of the morbid occurrences of the past evening, Laure couldn't help but feel excited. Ever since she was a young girl, she had been enamored by Alexandre's good looks and boyish charm. And, to think, he was interested in her too? She sighed dreamily at the thought of walking to rehearsals together, the jealous glares she'd get from the other girls who wished they were on his arm.

A sharp knock on the door startled Laure from her daydreams.

"Laure!" called Madame Giry.

"Yes, Mother?" The door opened, revealing the ballet mistress. Laure took in her mother's appearance, noting the deep wrinkles etched into her worn face. Perhaps it was her imagination, but it seemed as though there were more than there had been the night prior.

"Monsieurs Firmin and Andre have requested the presence of all cast members on stage in ten minutes. They wish to discuss the future of the Opera Populaire." Laure nodded and produced Alexandre's letter.

"Mother, did you know about this?" The elder Giry raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, Alexandre asked me if he could court you a week ago. He seemed terribly nervous, very unlike him." Laure suppressed another smile. All of this was so surreal; it was hard to take in at once! Without warning, she threw her arms around her mother, embracing her tightly.

"Thank you," she whispered. Madame Giry stiffened but accepted the sudden affection, patting her daughter's back gently.

"Get dressed. You mustn't be late," she said before leaving Laure alone once more.

She hurriedly changed into a simple gown and made her way to the stage, her cheerful mood falling when she took in the somber energy of the cast members. Everybody looked so crestfallen, and nobody dared speak. Glancing around the stage, she searched for Meg.

"Are you all right?" inquired Laure once she found her younger sister, who gave a slight nod.

"I'm sorry I didn't wake you. You seemed so tired."

"No, thank you. I was."

"Everybody," called a weary voice. The entire room's attention turned to its owner. Firmin cleared his throat before continuing. "Last night, we experienced a great disaster and tragedy. Four people, including our own Joseph Buquet, were killed. M. Buquet was hanged, and the other three perished when the chandelier fell."

"In light of last night's events," said Andre, fiddling with the cuff of his shirt nervously, "we will be forced to close the opera house for a week while the auditorium is being repaired."

"During this time, we will also be searching for a new lead soprano, as Mlle. Daaé resigned last night."

"Frankly, I don't blame her," muttered Andre. Firmin quietly scolded him before continuing.

"We do ask that any sopranos who might be interested would speak with us and hold an audition after this meeting." Laure gasped softly. She looked at her sister, who was already staring at her.

"Laure," she whispered, "this is your chance!" The managers continued to drone on, but Laure couldn't make herself focus. She felt horrible for feeling so excited and happy while so many awful things were happening. She glanced at Alexandre, whose eyes were glued to the scuffed stage floor, and felt a pang in her heart.

"All right, that concludes this meeting. Everybody besides sopranos who wish to hold an audition are dismissed."

Her eyes widened as her sister's hand squeezed hers. Meg gave her a reassuring smile, and nudged Laure.

Taking in a deep breath and muttering a brief prayer, she stepped forward.

Author's Note: Hello, everyone! So sorry about the late update! I was really busy with Thanksgiving and family stuff, but here's chapter four! Hope you enjoyed it!

Child of Dreams: Oh my goodness, why don't you like him? He's a bean!

The song I chose for this chapter was Lord Huron's Way Out There. It's about new beginnings, and I related it to Christine in this chapter. Thanks for reading, and I hope you all have an amazing day/night!

~ Belle