A/N:

Since I have loads of time now, I've gone back and fixed some of the minor details of the previous chapters. Nothing changed story wise, I just added a comma or spell-check where it was needed.

Also, According to my stats section, I am getting a few hits. So, please, if you like what you're reading leave a review. If you don't leave one anyway.

Happy New Year, everyone!

Chapter #12

Stepping into Yesterday

The air of the auditorium was exactly as she remembered it; hot and sticky, with the faintest trace of human sweat. Not that she expected it to find it completely altered, but it was an odd feeling stepping back into yesterday as if nothing had changed. Everything had.

One thing that had not in the time since her disappearance was that Christine was not fond of the dark, especially in the auditorium of the Opera House. She had managed to find her way out of the catacombs after hours of fruitless tracking thankfully alive and intact. The way down might have been easy as Erik told her, but the way up was entirely different matter. She emerged somewhere in the backstage area completely flustered and unsure whether she would praise Erik's trapping skills, or clog him over the head with a heavy object. The heavy object was winning.

Given the circumstances, however, she could see how darkness could be useful.

"You're doing it wrong."

"Am not!"

She had stumbled onto two young ballerinas practicing their routines with as much expertise as ten-year-olds could muster. Not knowing what her reappearance would do to them, she watched the little girls twirl and spin from behind a backdrop until they made themselves sick. Their names escaped her, but she recalled some of the fresh faces of the younger petite rats.

"Are too!"

"Am not! And you can eat bugs for all I care."

One of them, a pudgy round thing with an ocean of brown hair, brushed her long locks over her shoulder. "Yes you are! You're not keeping your arms soft and if you don't straightened your legs you'll fall flat on your face."

The other one was the complete opposite of the first. Tall and skinny with flaming red hair, the girl was the spitting image of Brielle in the older ballet company, with her sister's sour attitude to match. "How would you know, anyway? You're about as graceful as a lemon."

Beth puffed twice her size with pride. "Madame told me so."

"You lie! Madame's been far too busy to pay attention to you."

Busy? Christine leaned farther over in her hiding spot and tried to ignore the absurdity of spying on ten year olds.

For all she knew, Erik could be watching her right now, waiting for the right moment to emerge and scare the life out of her. Maybe greeting the girls first wouldn't be as bad as she thought.

"She's not too busy for me, Lisette," the brunette insisted. "Madame Giry says I could be a protégé."

"You don't even know what that means. If you're such a protégé, Beth, why don't you show me?"

Beth nodded, accepting the challenge and straightened her round frame. She was quite graceful for such an oddly shaped girl and once she grew out of her baby fat, Christine could see why Madame Giry felt she could be successful. Beth lifted her arms above her head and raised herself up on her toes with practiced ease. She was flushed and smiled triumphantly at her bested friend, but her eyes shifted and she went as pale as if she had seen a ghost. In a manner of speaking, she had.

Damn! Christine thought. She would have to ask Erik how he did this so well.

Lisette, sensing something was wrong, place a hand on her friend's shoulder. "What is it?"

Beth pointed a trembling finger towards Christine. "Ma… Chr…."

Her friend turned and peered into the shadows. Seeing no escape, Christine emerged from her hiding spot. Over ten days without anyone to talk to, save an introverted madman, mired her basic social skills and she did her best to recall them as she stepped into full light.

"Mademoiselle Daae? Christine!"

"Hello girls, it's good to see you again."

She remembered the rabbit, the tiny bit of fluff running from her in the snow as she tried to save it and the small, innocent eyes wide with terror that grew with her every step closer. The girls didn't dare take her eyes off Christine as she walked across the stage and they clutched each other's arms and moved back as she crossed to stand in front of them.

Christine forced a pleasant smile." Been a while, hasn't it?"

Lisette, seeming to recover herself, dropped her friend's arm. "What are you doing here? Has the ghost let you go?"

She glanced nervously around herself as if mention his name would bring the Phantom's wrath upon them.

If only, Christine thought wryly. She had been avoiding any thoughts on Erik or the consequences of leaving suddenly and unannounced, but she felt she would go mad if she stayed any longer in that house with those cold, lifeless eyes staring up at her in blood from her dream. Christine had spent the night with a cup of tea and battered book for company and found herself terribly homesick for Madame Giry and Meg. She'd gladly risk Erik's wrath to spend company with people that did not make her feel as if she were treading on very thin ice.

"Have either of you seen Madame Giry or Meg?" she asked changing the subject. Lisette glanced at Beth, who was not helping her at all and did not look to be so anytime soon.

"Madame had a meeting with the managers and Meg went into town for a new dress."

"Her other one got wet," Beth suddenly chirped. The girl was looking more like that rabbit by the minute.

"I see," Christine said, forcing down her disappointment. "Perhaps I should come back later when-"

"Are you here to sing, Mademoiselle? Carlotta said she would never sing again and we don't have a diva anymore."

Christine paused, not expecting such a pointed question. "I hope so, I'll have to see if the managers will have me, won't I?"

Her chance looked good, and with Carlotta out of the picture, there really was no one else to fill her spot. She could not hope for anything until she spoke with Madame Giry, first. If everyone believed her dead as these two did, there was no telling what the rest of the company would think. She may already be too late.

That was another area of conversation sorely avoided between the two of them. She wasn't Erik's prisoner, rather, she would not tolerate it, but their boundaries of acceptable behavior were still unclear and mutual respect could only go so far. Still, they had worked too long and too hard to let her voice go to waste and Erik had promised all of Paris at her feet.

There was a slight change in the girl's attitude and Christine recognized it as the need to ask a question one was afraid to voice. Lisette fiddled with a lock of fiery red hair and Beth continued to stare at her as if she expected Christine to vanish into thin air.

"Yes?" Christine said, helping them along.

"We were just wondering if you still could sing, Mademoiselle?" Christine sank to her knees in front of them and looked Lisette in the eyes. She had not sung since that night, and her voice would definitely be weak from lack of practice. But she could still sing and why the girl wondered was unclear to her.

"Why wouldn't I be able to, Lisette?"

Lisette bit furiously on her upper lip. "Well, Joseph Bouquet before he… well… before, he told us that the Opera Ghost would suck out your soul until you was just like him and you could only moan like one of them spirits."

She didn't laugh, but her stomach tightened with the effort not to. She placed a hand on each girl's shoulder and they nearly jumped out of their skin from the contact. "I'm still whole aren't I? As for singing…"

Christine stood up and straightened her frame. Taking a deep breath, she raised her head and sang, "No thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy… no dreams within her heart but dreams of love…"

It was like coming home. Though weak, and a bit breathy, her voice rang clear throughout the auditorium and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She opened her voice again to recreate that feeling of total freedom, when she heard a low clapping in the theatre seats.

"Brava, Mademoiselle." Standing in the middle of the auditorium was the most beautiful women Christine had ever seen. Her clothing declared her a noblewoman, but she would have been just as stunning in rags. Fine boned and tall, an ocean of thick chestnut hair sat atop her head like a crown with a few loose tendrils falling onto flawless creamy skin.

The woman floated down the walkway and stopped in front of the orchestra pit. Up close, Christine could see she had not exaggerated the woman's beauty. Her eyes were dark violet, almost black and the age lines surrounding them and her mouth gave the impression of unchanging grace. While finely dressed, she wore very little jewelry, only an aqua marine ring on her left hand and an amber pendant on her amble chest.

She dismissed the girls with barely a glance and ran her eyes over the length of Christine. She cocked her head. "Are you going to come down, or will I be forced to suffer a stiff neck?"

The girls practically feel over themselves coming down the stage steps and Christine followed a few feet behind on better footing.

"That's better. Are you quite well, Christine?" Christine was silent, watching the woman as she tried to place who she was. She knew most of the patrons of the opera as well as their wives and mistresses, but this one was a complete mystery. If she had not detected a familiar pulse in the woman's speech, she would have thought her a local noblewoman, newly released from martial solitude.

She had tried to come up with some fantastic story to explain her absence, but it seemed that silence would be the best course. If she could avoid it, she did not want to speak of her current living situation as much for Erik as herself. The truth was unbelievable even to her. "Excuse me, Madame, but who are you?"

"Oh, excuse me," the woman extended a graceful hand. "I am Lady Kathrina Deveraux, newly arrived from Munich."

Christine accepted her hand. "Is this your first visit to Paris, my lady?"

"First, definitely. As for visit, I came here to be with my fiancée. I must say, though, your customs and men are a bit more forward then I expected. A welcome surprise, that," the lady laughed and it sounded hollow to Christine's ears. "Enough of me, though, we should get you back to the managers. Girls?"

Lisette and Beth, emerged from behind Christine and looked loathe to came under the noblewoman's scrutiny.

"Go and see if you can find Mademoiselle's desired companions. Tell no one else you have seen her. Is that clear?" the girls nodded. "Go!"

After the pair had skipped out of sight, Christine ventured, "You said you are to marry. May I ask to who?"

"You may, but you already know him. Come, let's see if we can find him. I'm afraid he's wandered off again." Looping her arm in Christine's, Lady Deveraux led them towards the nearest exit. The woman was at least six inches taller then Christine, and she had to nearly run to keep up with her long strides.

"I've heard of you, you know," she said not breaking her pace, "long before you became a Parisian diva."

"You knew my father?"

The lady shook her head. "No, my dear, you. I saw you years ago when you sang with your father at the fairs."

"We have never been to Germany."

"I didn't say Germany, did I? No, it was at a fair somewhere north of Yorkshire."

It was entirely possible, her father had taken her so many places before his death she could hardly keep track of them all. Something about the woman, though, made her uneasy, like she was suddenly back on display again at one of those fairs.

They turned another corner. "You have been to England?"

"Yes, unfortunately. My first husband was English." She could feel she was threading on dangerous ground with this woman and was at lost with what to say that would not be used against her.

"I am sure he had other qualities to redeem himself, my lady." Kathrina snorted and burst into laughter that stopped Christine in her tracks. She laughed so hard, a cleaning woman emerged from her regular duties to offer assistance but Christine waved her away, offering Kathrina a handkerchief and wondered what she had done to bring on such a strong reaction.

"Oh, Christine! You are a complete delight! What has that ghost been doing, hiding you away?" she accepted the handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. "You simply must dine with me sometime. I don't think I've laughed this hard in ages!"

Kathrina looped her arm in Christine's again and resumed their trek through the opera halls. The normal bustle of activity was practically non-existent, and aside from a few of the cleaning staff, they met no one on their search. Christine was about to ask the lady's fiancée once again, when they turned a corner and ran into the Comte de Changy and Meg Giry.

"Philippe, my love, what are you doing here? I've brought Mademoiselle Daae with-"

The noblewoman's introduction was drowned out by a cry from Meg. "Christine! My god, is it really you?"

Meg flew into her friend's hands and squeezed until she felt she might break. Christine's heart swelled feeling this kind of loving companionship that had been absent all this time. She stroked Meg's golden locks and muttered relieved nothings into her ear.

"I missed you so much! I can't believe you're back!" her friend muttered into her hair. "I tried to get them to come find you, but they wouldn't listen! Oh, Christine!"

"I missed you too, Meg, so very much," Christine said, resting a hand on her friend's rosy check.

Meg untangled herself and held Christine by the shoulders away from her. "But how did you escape? What happened?"

She took in Christine's haggard appearance, flustered and obviously sleep deprived, Meg tugged on one of her friend's loose melted curls and tucked it behind her ear. She was about to ask about it when a cough from the Comte alerted them to their presence. Though exercising a length of good breeding, Philippe was watching the exchange with frank interest. Lady Kathrina look mildly bored. Though she lacked the extensive social skills of the noble couple, Christine thought it would be best to save the tearful reunions for a private location.

"I'll tell you everything later, Meg, but not now."

Meg frowned. "You promise?"

"Yes, later," Christine untangled herself from Meg and curtsied toward the Comte. "Monsieur le Comte."

"Bonjour, Christine. It is good to see you again."

Not bloody likely, Christine thought. She had not seen Philippe de Changy in over seven years, not since that summer spent by the sea with Raoul, but she could see very little had changed in that time. Though older and subsequently wiser, he still looked on her as some lowly insect. He had never approved of his brother's relationship with the violinist's daughter and it did not look like he had changed his mind on the matter. Philippe loved his brother dearly and was ruthless to anything that threatened Raoul's happiness.

He had been absent for some time on business, as Raoul had explained to her, and missed most of the events of the last year and a half at the opera house. Instead of a happy return to homeland and family, he had found scandal and a brother nearly broken by grief. Philippe was a good man, and he had every reason to treat her like the dirt he probably thought she was.

Christine felt a jolt of grief at the memory. It would be different, easier probably, if their good-bye had not been made so quickly with the shadow of Erik looming over them. She could not say for certain that she wished she had been let go that night, but with the loss of Raoul's engagement ring, she felt mildly cheated of his memory.

Lady Deveraux steeped forward and looped her arm in the Comte's the same as she had earlier with Christine. "Christine, may I present my fiancée, the Comte de Changy. Mademoiselle Daae was kind enough to help me look for you when you went missing, my dear."

The Comte coughed. "No need, Kathrina. I got a bit lost and Meg here was kind enough to show me the way back. My thanks, Meg."

Meg glanced at her feet. "None needed, monsieur, just don't wander too far from your fiancée in the future."

"I'll do that," he said, patting his partner's arm. "Since we're all found, perhaps we should go find the managers. They'll be very pleased to see you, Christine."

"Yes, and mother too," Meg said, grabbing onto her arms as if to keep her from fleeing. "We have a lot to discuss, Christine. But I think that can wait for later."

With Lady Kathrina on hand, the Comte turned and led them out of the opera hallways towards the manager's office.

They had walked in silence for some time, when Christine leaned over to whisper in Meg's ear. "What's going on?"

But Meg shook her head. "Not now, Christine."

"Why not?" She looked up the length of the hallway. Lisette and Beth had just emerged from an office doorway and waved furiously when they saw her.

"Same reason you're not telling me anything, Christine. Walls have ears." She gestured towards the couple ahead of him, discussing the various art and furnishings of the hallway, apparently below their taste.

Madame Giry emerged moments later followed by Andre and Firmin. Cries of astonishment reached her and she turned one last time to her friend before she could be whisked away again. "Fine, but you owe me an explanation, Meg. If that man was really lost, then I'll eat my boots."

Meg's frown deepened. "You have no idea, Christine. No idea."