Merry Christmas! I hope you are all enjoying the holiday season!

Special thanks to AlteraPars87, TrashedXandXScattered, TheQueen'sKnight, and abby for their very kind reviews! I am further convincing my family of my insanity by the random squeals which come from my room at various hours.

TrashedXandXScattered: Thank you very much! I'm glad that like my story, even though it is canon with a story you don't like. I hope it will continue to entertain you!

AlteraPars87: Indeed. For now… (Totally not spoiling anything b/c I honestly haven't decided.)

TheQueen'sKnight: Thank you very much! And don't worry, Raoul will be back.

Abby: Thank you! I hope I can continue to surprise you! (I make no promises _) And true, he may…

Thunderstorm7916: Thanks! I hope you enjoy!

LizzieLovesErik: Ramin Karimloo is my favorite man… ever. Thank you and I hope you continue to enjoy!

Reverend Squid: I'm glad I answered some questions! Thank you for your compliments!

You Are Love: Never fear. Fluff returning quite soon…

Without further ado…

Christine tried, without much success, to hide her triumphant smile as she returned backstage. But after a performance such as this, when everything that could have gone wrong did not, how could she be less than thrilled?

True, she had had her doubts about Carlotta's faint, but upon arriving backstage to retrieve the costume she saw quite clearly what had led to the fall: the corset was entirely too tight. Carlotta's chemise was incredibly wrinkled, having been squished against her skin. There was a noticeable red line going across the woman's breasts and her maids had all but ripped away the corset, leaving her gasping for air. Upon retrieving it, Christine had to stifle an incredulous laugh when seeing that the Diva, who wasn't exactly as thin as she once was, had tried to squeeze herself into one of the smaller corsets at its tightest.

And so the managers, ironically much like the first time, had apologized fervently to the audience, stating that Christine Daae would take over as Countess.

And the performance had continued without another hitch.

Now she was laughing with Meg as they removed the gaudy makeup from her face and Christine from the costume. She needed to change into something more suitable to wear before the crowds. The managers had insisted she give them a proper greeting as the night's Diva. Said crowds were composed mainly of amorous young men, leering elders, and noblemen of questionable ethics. She was pleased, however, to find some ladies who seemed to only want to compliment her singing and ask when she would next perform. She glanced at the managers, who paled and stuttered incoherently.

"I'm not sure, Mesdames. I am, after all, only La Carlotta's understudy." She was amused at the aghast looks she received from the patrons.

"Surely that can be rectified? Our husbands are the patrons at this Opera, and they all agreed that you are the superior singer. Didn't you?" One tall woman looked around as the surrounding men nodded their heads in agreement, frowning at the managers, who swallowed nervously. The same woman spoke again. "Why has La Carlotta not yet been retired? Her voice is well-renowned, certainly, but she could not even last during the performance tonight! Surely, as managers of this Opera house, you can see that Mademoiselle Daae has a higher talent?" More nods and mumbled agreements.

"I never much cared for her singing, to be honest," another woman, an older one, piped up. "Too shrill for my taste. La Daae produces a sound of much finer quality."

Christine smiled gratefully at the group of people, her arms full of roses and flowers. How wonderful it felt to receive praise, to be promoted without the aid of the mysterious Opera Ghost.

"We-We, Mademoiselle Daae is La Carlotta's understudy." Firmin stuttered nervously.

"Quite! And La Carlotta has been at this Opera quite some time!" Andre answered. Has brought money to this Opera for quite some time was the unspoken point.

"Yes, and I'd say it's high time she bowed out gracefully." Countered a young man, who stood protectively over the old woman.

"Indeed," said yet another man, as he leered at Christine a little too closely. "Mademoiselle Daae has a far lovelier talent than the current Diva. And it seems most of your patrons would agree."

"I concur with these gentlemen and ladies, Andre, Firmin."

Christine barely contained a gasp as Raoul appeared in the crowd of people. He gazed at her, smiling softly in greeting. She smiled tremulously in return, a warning shiver going up her spine.

"Mademoiselle Daae far outshines your current Diva. I believe we all agree that she should have the lead permanently in this production." Raoul had come to stand directly in front of Christine, and when he lifted his gaze from her to stare at the managers she couldn't suppress a nervous swallow.

"Th-the lead, Monsieur le Vicomte? But La Carlotta has always had the lead, even before we arrived-" Andre was silenced by a collective groan from the crowd, and even in her alerted state Christine fought the urge to giggle.

"We are your patrons, Messieurs. What the audience wants should be what matters," said the original woman.

"And we desire to hear more of Mademoiselle Daae," said yet another man. Christine looked at the crowd around her, eyes wide.

Any Frenchman knew a coup d'état when they saw one.

The managers were stuttering spastically, alternating between phrases of "of course we value your opinion" and "but haven't you all wanted Carlotta?" It was very amusing, and she glanced up to the ceiling, wondering if Erik was watching.

She smiled as she looked out into the crowd, momentarily startling herself to find a fine sheen of tears in her eyes. Was it possible that she could not only have Erik this time, but her career in France as well?

"Thank you, Messieurs, Mesdames, for your praise and support. It means a great deal to me." She smiled, hoping that none of the tears would leak out. The onlookers turned to her, and she knew the closest saw the tears for their expressions changed. "I fear I must take my leave from you now. The hour grows late, and I find I am exhausted. Adieu and merci beaucoup!" She inclined her head and curtsied before turning to walk down the hall. She lowered her head to hide her smile as she heard the audience continue to praise her to the managers.

It was just as she was turning the corner that she heard a voice speak up.

"I will speak with you on this later, Messieurs. I have other matters tonight."

She heard footsteps taking the same hallway as she had. Christine wasted no time breaking into a run, trying to keep all the flowers in her hand. She didn't realize that they left a breadcrumb trail of petals behind her until it was too late. She heard his voice call out her name, but thankfully she was already down a different hallway, and there was no way he could see her.

"Why does no man ever take no for an answer?" she hissed under her breath as she ran, finally reaching her empty dressing room. She threw the flowers down onto the night stand, hurriedly throwing on her robe so she might walk back to the dormitories. But she did not know where she could go at the moment to avoid Raoul.

As she wrung her hands, looking around the room, she heard her name loudly. Raoul could only be a few moments from the room. And to her horror, she finally saw the trail of petals from the door.

So, when she thought she heard his footsteps slowing, she did the only this she could think to do: Christine quite literally dove into the corner where the door would open. On her light dancer's feet, she made it just in time.

The door opened without a knock, she noted a little exasperatedly. Honestly, Raoul, this is a dressing room! Did it occur to you I might not be presentable? She remembered with a touch of irony that he'd made such an entrance at their first reunion and she had not protested it then.

He strode into the room upon seeing it seemingly empty. The door had not opened as much as she would have liked and using every ounce of control she could muster, she gently pulled on the door handle, effectively obscuring her from view. She heard him walking about and dared to look from the gap between the wall and the door. He was standing at the vanity, picking up one of her bouquets. He turned around again, causing her to flinch back at the movement. She heard a sigh, then retreating footsteps.

She held her breath as he took the doorknob and closed the door, praying he would not find her. When the door closed and his footsteps retreated to nothing, she exhaled loudly, running her left hand through her hair.

"My anxiety isn't going anywhere anytime soon, is it, Father?" she asked the quiet room.

She got her answer in the form of agitated whispers as she returned to the dormitories.

"Luc says he was all bloody, like he'd beaten himself up."

"I caught a glimpse of him when they carried him into the back! His face was pretty bad, and his shirt was covered in the stuff!"

"He's gonna get himself killed next time! He could've fallen to his death!"

Christine frowned at the words, turning to see a few girls chattering nervously on a bed as they braided each other's hair. Meg was among them, but as she saw Christine she bounded up and took her hands.

"Did you hear what happened during the performance, Christine? All the stagehands were whispering about it!" Christine looked at her blankly, while inside her mind screamed in warning. "Oh, it was awful! Buquet was nearly killed! He got himself- Christine?" Meg reached out to catch Christine's upper arms as the soprano started to sink, her knees giving out. She in turn reached up to clasp Meg's elbows, trying to steady herself. "Christine! What is it? You're so pale, like you've seen a ghost!" Meg asked, her voice rising slightly.

A ghost of a past I'd hoped never to see again.

"What happened to Buquet, Meg?" Christine surprised Meg and herself at the steadiness of her voice.

"Christine, here, sit down on the bed." Meg guided them over to Christine's bed, sitting her down gently. Christine clasped her hands together, trying to steady both her trembling limbs and her heartbeat.

"What happened, Meg?" She finally asked, once the shaking had stopped.

"Well, I-I don't really know, Christine. No one does." Meg shrugged. "The stagehands found his body sprawled across a shattered bottle of gin, so you can probably guess what happened. I even saw him drinking the stuff during the intermission."

"But, but Meg, you said he was nearly killed! His passing out doesn't mean-"

"Well he wasn't just passed out. He was completely unconscious and his face, right hand, and chest had bloody cuts from where the glass hit him. One of the stagehands was saying he must've wandered up there in a haze, fell over, and smashed the bottle. But can you believe this! He didn't pass out from the alcohol, they said!" Meg leaned forward conspiratorially, an awed grin on her face.

Christine felt sick. "What made him pass out, Meg?

"The blood loss. I didn't see him, but he was covered in blood and alcohol! So the pig nearly killed himself up there!" Meg stopped again as Christine exhaled a heavy breath. "Christine? What is wrong? You act as though this is some horrible tragedy. The stagehands said he'll live, though they doubt even the managers will overlook this. He'll probably be out of a job, especially with the audience complaints."

Christine felt yet another warning go up her spine. "What complaints?"

"Oh, some of the patrons in the highest boxes said they heard maniacal laughter coming from the scaffolds, around the area where his body was found. Giselle said while we were getting changed they came and spoke to the managers about it, saying it disturbed the performance for them." Meg actually giggled. "Lord knows what he was doing up there under the influence of that foul stuff."

Christine stood, taking a deep breath and attempting to fight the rising panic.

The stories Buquet told, the disrespect he showed him, nearly killed in the scaffolds, maniacal laughter...

"I'm going out for a bit, Meg." She stooped to get her coat.

"W-what? Christine, it's so late already, and you're not even dressed. Christine!"

Christine paid her no heed, merely calling a goodbye of her shoulder as she went to the door, buttoning the coat and tying a scarf around her neck.

She had to find him. They were supposed to be together tonight. She'd seen him in the scaffolds, gazing at her like he couldn't believe she existed.

Well, the feeling was mutual.

She went down the halls, heading briskly for the Prima's dressing room without thinking.

But as she approached, Christine realized what a foolhardy notion that was as the Diva was currently moaning and wailing about the injustice of her collapse and Christine's massacre of the opera.

I cannot take the mirror. Where then shall we meet?

She spun around, walking blindly. He had to be nearby. He was always nearby. But most likely, he would not reveal himself until she was far from any other person, and where he had a trap door.

She huffed a humorless breath of laughter at fate's twisted game as she broke into a run.

Christine Daae would flee to the roof tonight after all.


As she opened the door to the roof the first thing she felt was the cold air whipping around her. She closed the door in a hurry, turning and wrapping her arms around herself.

It had not been like this when she and Raoul had fled. The night had been calm then, a stark contrast to the turmoil of the Opera house.

She walked forward, looking around and squinting in the biting wind. Nervous, she called out, hoping he would hear. Hadn't he always heard?

"Erik?" The wind carried her voice and she feared it would be lost. "Erik? Mon ange, are you here? Please, come out! I long to see you!"

She waited alone for a few more moments, fearing he had not followed, that something awful had happened, and that he would not come to her.

"Chris-tine." Her heart leapt.

Aaaaand that's where I'm capping it for now. Stay tuned for next chapter, when it's so fluffy we are in a cotton candy castle in the clouds playing with puppies… Ok maybe not that fluffy but still, there'll be fluff!

Thanks again to all my great reviews! I'm especially happy so many people got my DW reference!