It had been hard for all of them, but they managed to pull through. Christine spent most of her time in the de Changy mansion tending to Raoul. He finally admitted the severity of his condition and Christine, much to Philippe's disdain, had vowed to do what she could to nurse him back to health.
The Comte couldn't prove it, but he knew Christine's presence was only making Raoul's condition worse. He rarely allowed the two of them to be alone and banned Christine from the house when Raoul's condition was at its worst.
But that only seemed to backfire, as the two were more determined than ever to be together. Raoul had even proposed. Philippe had railed against that but Raoul was determined. He didn't care if she was an Opera singer, just that she loved him despite his flaws.
There was a wedge between Christine and the Comte that seemed glaringly obvious as the three of them rode in the carriage towards the Opera House. It was the night of the Masque, the New Year's celebration that was very special this year.
It also marked six months with no threats from the Opera Ghost. After killing Buquet and dropping the chandelier it seemed he had retreated into obscurity. As it turned out Christine had lost her enigmatic teacher as well, further cementing that the Angel of Music was the Phantom.
But that was behind them, at least for the night. They would play their roles, enjoy the party, and speak nothing of the troubles they were having. Much to Raoul's dismay, Christine had opted to keep their engagement secret, preferring to wear Raoul's ring around her neck.
Everything was going well until one of the other party goers cut in, asking Christine for a dance. As was proper Raoul bowed out and left his fiancée in the capable hands of the other man. He went to find a drink and the managers.
But two dances later he had not returned and Christine was getting worried so she went to find Philippe.
"I haven't seen him," the Comte told her.
"He should have been back by now." She lowered her voice. "Do you think… Could he had had another…"
A loud commotion on the grand staircase halted their conversation. People were moving out of the way like the red sea as a man dressed in red descended, unhindered, into their midst. His face was covered by a skull mask.
"It's the Phantom," Meg squeaked.
"But he was gone," Monsieur Andre said.
"Correction," the masked man remarked, "I choose to stay away until I finished my opera. Now that it is done you will all perform it." He threw the score at Firmin's feet. " It is my triumph and will be Christine's as well. I have written everything as it should be, and no one will overstep their place." He narrowed his eyes at Carlotta.
Christine backed up a step, not wanting to be any part of this. And for once she was comforted by Philippe's hand on her shoulder.
"Leave us be," the Comte commanded. "Your presence is not wanted here."
"I have told you before: stay out of this. Christine's welfare is in my hands. Come to you Angel, my child."
Unable to resist, Christine wrenched free of the Comte's grasp and walked towards Red Death. He drew her near, holding her almost reverently.
"You are mine and will be forever." He grabbed the ring from around her neck and broke the clasp with one yank. "Your chains are still mine. Do as I say or else suffer a worse catastrophe than a shattered chandelier."
He pushed Christine away and disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.
Later, they found Raoul unconscious in Christine's dressing room.
"This is madness," Andre fumed. "This needs to be stopped."
Everyone of importance had come to discuss the new score – Don Juan Triumphant – in the managers' office.
"I agree wholeheartedly," Raoul said. "This bad press reflects back on all of us."
"We need more force," Firmin told them. "I think we are all agreed on that."
"You would hunt him down?" Christine asked.
"He is a murderer," Piangi replied.
"She defends his actions," Carlotta said. "She must be a willing partner."
"She is not, I can assure you that," Philippe replied.
"You would defend your brother's whore," the diva spat.
Raoul was on his feet. "Listen here woman…"
"Enough," Firmin roared. "We will get nowhere if we continue to fight amongst ourselves. The questions before us are what do we do about the Phantom and his opera?"
"Burn the garbage," Carlotta suggested.
Piangi held up a hand. "Maybe we should perform it."
"And give into his demands?" Raoul questioned.
"I see what he is saying," Andre spoke up. "If we perform it he will come, especially to see Christine…"
"I will not be part of this," Carlotta hissed. "I will not lower myself to a tiny part and give her the lead."
"Shut up you cow," Raoul barked. "I swear, if you slander Christine one more time…"
"If Christine doesn't sing you may lose more than your voice," Philippe said pointedly. "Are you willing to risk that?"
"Besides, using Christine as bait will be perfect," Piangi said. "We know the monster will come."
"I thought you were on my side," Carlotta fumed at her lover.
"We can be ready with men at arms," Andre added.
Firmin rubbed his hands together. "We can have it all planned out, he'll not escape."
"I can't do this," Christine said. "To be demeaned so… Is that all I am to you? Bait?"
"Christine, this man has killed Buquet," Raoul said. "He has to be stopped."
"I agree," Philippe said. "But with more violence?"
"This plan hinges on you, Miss Daaé," Andre implored. "You must help us."
"And what of her career?" Carlotta asked. "After this will she be put back in the chorus where she belongs?"
"Even we must agree that she is too good for that," Firmin said. "But that is neither here nor there."
"I need to think," Christine said. "This is still so overwhelming."
"You don't have time to think," Andre said. "We need an answer, now."
"You don't understand what this is doing to me," Christine retorted.
"I understand," Philippe said suddenly. "I see where you are coming from, better than you perhaps."
"One performance can end all of this," Raoul said.
Christine turned a teary face to the Vicomte. "Do you love me, Raoul?"
"With everything I have," he vowed.
"Then take me away from here, just for a few days and then I'll give everyone my answer."
"Where do you want to go?" Raoul asked gently.
"To Perros. To my father's grave."
Christine felt like a child confided to her room after a transgression. Both of the de Chagny brothers had insisted on accompanying her on her trip. They watched her like hawks, never allowing her to be alone for any long period of time.
At least they allowed her the necessary privacy of bathing and dressing alone.
She knelt at her father's grave and laid down the flowers she had purchased. She offered up silent prayers to the dead and allowed the tears to fall. Her consolation was that she could mourn in private. Raoul was in the carriage, guarding the cemetery gate and Philippe had remained back at the inn.
"Where did it all go wrong?" Christine asked. "What am I to do? I just wanted to make you happy and now my own happiness lies shattered like… like the shards of a chandelier."
"You're not alone…" came the voice on the wind.
Christine got to her feet. "Who's there? Angel or father, friend or phantom?"
"Your angel, always your angel."
"Why have you betrayed me?"
"All I have done is for you," he continued. "Everything will be laid out your feet. They will not stop me, be assured of that."
"How do you…"
"Know of their plans? I am the Opera Ghost, I know all. Just remember that I love you."
"Angel?" When she got no response she called again: "Angel?"
"Christine…" Raoul voice.
She turned to see him stumbling towards her, hands clenched tightly against his head. It was obvious that he was experiencing another headache.
"What can I do?" Christine asked, pushing her own troubles aside.
The Vicomte collapsed at her side. "I don't know… The pain has never been this bad."
Leave her be and the pain will stop. Let her go and relinquish your claim to her and I will not trouble you any longer.
"Did you hear that?" Raoul gasped. "He's here, I just heard him."
Christine swallowed thickly. "He was here, just before you came."
"No, just now. He just delivered an ultimatum."
"Raoul, I heard nothing," Christine replied.
Give up, Vicomte. Give up and let me take over permanently. Stop your unconscious fighting, this ends now. Here on her father's grave she will give herself to the Angel and the man will be no more.
"Can you not hear him?" Raoul questioned.
"I only hear you."
Raoul moaned and curled into Christine's lap. "He's laughing at me, dark sinister laughing that is driving me mad! Make it stop, Christine! For god sake help me."
The sound of a horse galloping closer drew Christine's attention. She looked up to see Philippe riding towards them.
"Philippe! How did you know…?"
The Comte dismounted and came over. "Did you think I wouldn't follow? I know what plagues my brother so I'm never too far away."
"I don't understand."
"It's never been this bad," Philippe explained. "It's gotten worse since you came back into his life."
"Don't make her leave me, Philippe," Raoul begged. "She is my only anchor to sanity."
"She is your destruction." The Comte's eyes were hard. "The fact that she has had no knowledge of her actions is moot. We must make you better."
"Why is this voice in my mind?" Raoul demanded. "What have you been keeping from me?"
"The phantom has always been there," Philippe conceded. "He rises to the surface when your headaches are too much. I think he causes them. He raises you up and pushes you down so that he can compose music and run the opera house as he wishes."
"And you never told me?" Raoul was awestruck.
"We both deserved to know," Christine's words were harsh. "I am not some child who needs protecting. All this time…"
"I wrote that opera," Raoul whispered. "I've been fighting the ghosts in my own head. God, what are we to do about the managers' plan?"
"I'll think of something," Philippe said.
"We will think of something," Christine affirmed.
Philippe looked up, fire in his eyes. "You will leave my brother alone. This wouldn't have happened if you would have left him alone like I told you to."
"Leave her alone," Raoul said. Another spasm of pain racked through him and he clutched Christine like a drowning man.
"We need to get him home," Philippe said. "Home to Paris and to a doctor."
"I want nothing to do with you!" Raoul glowered at his brother. "How can I trust you when all you've done is lied to us?"
"You owe me your life," the Comte said. "I kept the rumors going. Thanks to me the deaths you caused have fallen onto the shoulders of a ghost."
Raoul went pale. "Deaths?"
The Comte nodded gravely. "I can only guess that Buquet saw your face and you had to silence him. And the chandelier…"
"All those people. .." The realization was too much. Raoul's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he passed out.
"I'll get him the best help, I promise," Philippe said. "But you will stay away from him and allow him to recover in peace."
Christine slapped him across the face. "How dare you? You're mad if you think I'll leave him now. We will fix this together. Now help me."
Philippe rubbed his cheek. "Mademoiselle, be grateful my thoughts are with my brother or else I'd thank you in kind for this mark."
