Christine felt vastly uncomfortable. She felt hardly dressed. A thick piece of material went across her chest, but the rest of her top was see through. Her skirt was that of a ballet dancer's - thin and flowing. She was used to this after being in so many productions of Hannibal. But never in any of those productions had Erik sat in the front row, staring at her. She was at the front of the stage. George stood right behind her.

"You alright?" He whispered in her ear.

"I suppose I must be." She said under her breath. He nodded, then took her hands and raised their arms. Since he was so tall, she had to stretch every muscle in her body to reach her fingertips to his palms.

The music started. It was still the old conductor, doing his last opera here. She kicked up her leg then spun in his arms. He put his arms around her middle and she arched her back to face the crowd upside down, then stood straight back up, putting her hands on George's shoulders and jumped, half her body going over his head as he held her up and quickly spun her. She landed on one foot, and kept going until the music changed. Then she, along with the rest of the dancers, quickly danced off to their side of the stage, Ruby fluttering on center stage to sing.

By the end of the show, Christine was sweaty and exhausted, ready to collapse. George wrapped his arm around her and helped her to the changing room door. "You alright, Aminta?" He asked with worried eyes. Erik's gaze had taken everything out of her.

"I...I got to get to my room. I'll see you tomorrow..."

"But you'll miss the gala that's being held in honor of Mr. Destler's changes to here. He's supposed to be our miracle to save us or something because of all the things he did for those other opera houses in like a dozen different countries. Either way, it's free food and music for us."

But she shook her head. "There will be another for when he started producing his first opera. I can afford to miss this one."

And with that, she hobbled back to her room and climbed in to the solace of her bed.

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The next day dawned sadly. Christine wondered who Erik danced with. The words that George had told her the night before floated across her mind. So now her angel was famous. He had gotten over his fear of rejection and hatred for mankind and made something of himself...and had forgotten her.

Well, if he could forget her, then she certainly could forget him! It was part of the reason she was here, was it not? To forget about him and then go back and marry Raoul? So why, oh why did she feel so hurt to know that Erik no longer cared for her? Why did it shatter her heart like fragile glass to see that he despised her? She looked in to her mirror as she brushed out her curls.

"Angel of Music hide no longer. Come to me strange angel!" She sang softly. But this time, there was no masked wonder to reach out his hand and lead her to her fantasies. Only her own deep pools of tears stared back at her.

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"Where were you last night?" Marie, a fellow ballet dancer that reminded Christine so much of Meg asked.

"I wasn't feeling good. But do tell me about it! How did it go for you?"

"Wonderful! I finally got to dance with George!" She squealed. Marie had been dreamy eyed over Marie for ever.

"Good! See, I told you he's noticing you." Christine encouraged, trying to keep herself smiling.

"Yeah..." Marie said with a blush. "Anyway, Mr. Destler was looking for you."

Christine stopped walking to look at her friend in surprise. "He was? How do you know?"

"He asked everyone where you went! The managers and all. He even spoke to us little people. While I was dancing with George he came to us, knowing that George was your partner. Asked where you had gotten to, and George replied that you weren't feeling well and had gone back to your dormatory room. His face at first seemed to lift, but then fall again, as if remembering something. He looked like he was struggling, and then simply walked away. He didnt talk at all the rest of the night. Didn't dance with a single girl either, though they all wanted him to."

Christine tried to snap out of it, but it was so hard! Erik had asked for her! Maybe he wanted to talk to her by herself and apologize. Maybe he wanted to tell her he still loved her, his hard walls crumbled after her beautiful performance the night before. Or maybe...maybe he wanted to be mean to her. Say that her performance was suffering. That she wasn't her best, or that she wasn't a good dancer. Knowing him, he wouldn't hesitate to say so if he was in the right mood. That broke her spell. Her spirit was no longer flying, though hope was. She continued down with Marie until the office door swung open, Mr. Smith hanging out of it.

"Miss Giry, may I have a word with you?"

Oh, this was it! She had sucessfully avoided Mr. Smith ever since that incident while meeting Erik. Would he yell at her now?

She bowed her head and walked over to him, her hands folded behind her back.

"Mr. Destler has been looking for you. He wishes to see you at the earliest moment you are available."

She looked up at him in surprise, then quickly masked it. "I don't know where he is, Monsieur."

"The door on the left of the orchestra pit. Do not disappoint him, Giry. He is a powerful man. You will regret it. And make sure you knock - he has quite the wrath when you interrupt him." Mr. Smith informed from previous experience.\

She nodded, excusing herself then running along with Marie.

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