A/N: Read on, fair viewers. Sorry it's taken so long to get a chapter out (and a really short one at that) but as a lot of you can probably sympathize with, I have exams next week, and my life is pretty much focussed (which IS a correct spelling ;)) entirely on calculus and other fun things like homeostasis and Hamlet.

Enjoy!

The hand, smooth and cold to an extreme, as frighteningly impersonal as it is possible for a body part to be, did not so much as quiver at Christine's piercing scream. The poor girl was frozen there against the wall, not able to move but an inch, let alone an intruding hand. Her wide eyes, pupils dilated in the darkness, stared unblinkingly into the black before her, into a space sense told her must be filled with a corporeal being.

Before she could break out of her shock, to do who knows what, the door behind her suddenly slipped away, causing her to stumble, begin to fall backwards, her hand ripped violently out of the grasp of the unseen other. Light poured into the dark room, and Christine strained for a glimpse of her intruder, falling though she was, but it seemed that whoever, or whatever it was had left almost unnaturally swiftly.

Mere moments before hitting the carpeted floor of the hallway, Christine found herself caught most gracefully, two beefy, unfamiliar arms wrapped firmly around her middle. As soon as she had regained her balance, as quickly as only a well-trained dancer could, she pulled away, flushing, turning swiftly to discover her unknown rescuer.

Standing before her, thick moustache bristling in a worried, almost nonsensical way, stood a pudgy middle-aged man in a wide brown coat, a cigar clenched comically tightly between several yellow teeth. She stared for a moment, too taken by the spontaneity of the situation to remember her manners, surprised that such an awkward looking fellow could move to catch her so deftly.

The man cleared his throat uncomfortably after a few silent seconds, and shifted on his feet, hands in pockets, clearly at a loss as to how to begin.

"I say, Mademoiselle- I heard a scream and I thought somebody might be in trouble, you see. Your are quite alright, aren't you?"

Christine almost gaped upon hearing the newly familiar, gravely voice- it was the Inspector whom Madame Giry had just walked out on! Remembering the situation, and painfully clenching her jaw tightly to hide her surprise, she nodded, and attempted a smile.

"I'm awfully sorry for causing you to fall like that," the man continued, pulling earnestly at his moustache, the cigar waggling to and fro as he spoke. "Was there someone in there with you, bothering you?"

A sudden glint came to his eye, and he walked briskly to the open entrance of the dark room, pulling the door open to its full extent and allowing as much light as possible inside. Christine peered over his shoulder, anxious to know who her unseen companion had been. They both sighed with varying degrees of disappointment when their search proved fruitless, the Inspector chewing at his cigar with irritation.

"Sorry about that," he said suddenly, remembering himself. "I just thought- well, it's this case I have- quite extraordinary, but-"

Christine nodded mutely. Regaining some composure, and trying to avoid another awkward silence, she stepped back into the corridor, straightening her skirt, and smiled at the man. He had, after all, just saved her from whatever- whomever the cold hand had belonged to…

"Thank you very much for trying to help," Christine said quietly, her eyes serious above her meek smile. "I don't know what just happened, but there was someone in there with me-"

She stopped, not knowing what else to say. The Inspector nodded, and rotated the cigar adroitly in his teeth.

"Think nothing of it, Mademoiselle." He paused, frowning a little, and then continued. "What would your name be, then?"

Christine averted her eyes. What a perfectly ironic, untimely meeting! The Inspector, of all people. And she shuddered to think what Madame Giry would do should she find out about this little rendezvous. Unfortunately the girl was too honest and too frazzled to think up a lie.

"My name is Christine Daaé, Monsieur."

The Inspector's eyes widened considerably at this revelation. "So you're the famous Christine Daaé!" Eyes narrowing as his detective's brain began to make some very interesting connections, he rocked back on his heel and chewed heavily on his cigar. "I've heard of you," he said suddenly, pausing in his rocking and staring curiously at Christine, who felt nerves of apprehension begin to tighten in her stomach. The situation was becoming more and more uneasy.

"You have probably not been aware of my presence here for the last few days," he said slowly, a crafty, professional tone creeping back into his voice. "I have been privately hired by your two managers to settle some… recent disturbances."

Christine's stomach slowly began to drop as she remembered the Inspector's purpose, and desperately began to pray that he had heard of her name from opera critics, and not from gossip.

"What do you know of the so-called Opera Ghost?" he asked bluntly.

Christine abandoned her forcefully polite disposition and gasped aloud, barely restraining herself from clapping a hand over her mouth. The Inspector nodded with satisfaction, and pulled his cigar from his mouth with emphasis.

"I have heard a few things about this so-called 'Ghost' which seem to connect your name to his, Mademoiselle. Although your ballet mistress did not deem it necessary to inform me, I have an idea that most people around here know more than what they're willing to tell me." He took a long drag on the cigar, eyes focussed thoughtfully on the blank wall above Christine's head. "I will further discuss this matter with you tomorrow morning in the managers' office, Christine Daaé. Until then."

And with that, the broad-shouldered man swung around and walked leisurely down the corridor, leaving Christine still speechless without another word. As soon as his heavy footsteps had faded, only a vague, receding thumping remaining from a wooden floor some distance away, she clutched at her face, panic beginning to set in. What a disaster! How could she keep this from Madame now? What would Erik say?

Christine leaned heavily against the closed door directly behind her, burying her face in her sweaty palms, before suddenly remembering her frightening encounter in that very room just moments ago! She tore off down the corridor, the opposite way that infuriatingly shrewd inspector had taken, her destination the last thing on her mind.

Gone was her worry about being missed in rehearsals, gone were the faint pangs of hunger, gone was her sense of direction…

It was only when Christine reached the end of a discontinued corridor that she halted her panicky half-run, heart pounding violently. She gazed around the dull, cobwebby space, recognising nothing in the peculiarly high windows, the faded carpet, the dusty vases on squat, cheap tables. Evidently this was not a commonly used passageway, and Christine felt she had never come this way before in all her years at the opera house. Her tracks alone marked the carpet, the light squeezing in through the small windows illuminating great swirls of airborne dust.

Although the corridor itself ended, its final wall held a grand wooden door, its elaborate oak belying the poor quality of the other items crowded to the sides of the narrow passageway. Christine stared at it warily. She felt she had suffered quite enough shocks this morning already, and didn't know whether or not she should tempt fate by obeying her gnawing curiosity and discovering what lay beyond it.

But like her removal of the Phantom's mask, her commonsense shattered already by extreme stress, she felt she couldn't stand another mystery, and stepped forward determinedly, grasping the smooth handle firmly. With a quick turn she threw the door open before she lost her daring, and blinked for a moment in the sudden rush of sunlight before gazing open-mouthed at the incredible sight before her.

A/N: Another cliffhanger? Mais oui. For I couldn't resist. And also, it was approximately 11 pm at night when I finished, so if I'd continued it would've been nonsensical. Both to do AND to read. :)

It's Saturday morning so I have a little time; I think I'll use it to reply to random readers!

Chibi Binasu-chan: That quote was from Romeo and Juliet, which, while it can't contend with its big brother Hamlet in terms of plot, contains the most beautiful language ever written. And Leo! Lol. Now, when you ask whether I'd been planning this sudden plot twist… would you respect me more if I said yes:) See, I live on the edge. I thought the story needed a little more drama and tension. So I popped in cigar guy! Don't worry, I actually do have it planned from now. (Besides, it was chapter THIRTEEN, so I was allowed.)

Lisha Lane, ErikMySweet, the Mouse in the Opera House: Wait and see! How irritatingly mysterious I am:)

Mystery Guest: Poor, compromised Christine's reputation. Pfff. I'm still utterly jealous. :)

Phantomphorever: Love the name by the way. I agree, I need to find a man to do the rose petal thing. -Where art thou Gerard?-

IceCliff: Erik saw just as much as most people would see when they remove someone else's corset. Hmm, that does seem a little… risqué, eh:) Oh well, there might be further mentions of the corset a little later…

Ducky in Spandex, starryspark: Yay, you like the new character! I was hoping people would. Like, I know it seems like a really random, sudden change, but I wanted a little more action…

Nini-sky: Aw, you're so sweet! I love Erik too… -stop drooling Fiona!- Keep enjoying!

Thanks so much to all who've said they're enjoying the story, it makes my day it does. I'm a needy girl, I am. Keep reviewing, keep reading, TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT THE NEW PLOT THING! Should I continue like this or would you prefer straight E/C? Cause there will be more E/C soon!

Joy to the world,

Froody