Really sorry about the wait! I truly am. I've had such a busy week, and right now I'm still completely stressed, but I'm going to work really hard to have the next chapter up shortly! (Within days, hopefully.)

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed since I posted the last chapter!

I skipped breakfast. Usually Gustave and I would go back to Clara's house after church, so I planned on eating there instead.

I was still holding the flyer Andre had given me that morning and studied it every once in a while as Gustave chattered away happily about what he and Ivy were going to do after lunch. Apparently I wasn't paying him enough attention because he snatched the piece of paper from my hands before I could react.

"What's this?"

"Nothing. Just information for a benefit night your father is organising with Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin."

"Why do you have it?"

"I'm interested is all, darling."

He watched me closely for a moment, then spoke again. "I heard them ask you if you would perform."

"Gustave! You know better than to eavesdrop!" I wanted to get off this subject straight away. I knew if Gustave was trying to talk me into performing, it would be almost impossible to say no. He was quite manipulative with things like this. Just like his father. What made it worse was that my child was incredibly smart, despite not even having reached his fifth year, and was able to make people see things from his point of view. Which always seemed to make more sense, funnily enough.

"Why don't you sing, mother? Are you good?"

"I was once."

"Are you now?"

"I don't think so, Gustave." I sighed.

"Well, you won't know if you are if you don't try. Why don't you sing for me and I can tell you?"

"Not now, Gustave." I made my voice last stern at his last sentence and silenced him.

We sat with Clara's family for the service, and I constantly nudged Gustave, who was whispering small things to Ivy and recieving glances from the people around us. Eventually he listened to me and sat back with his arms folded, irritably.

There was only a short walk back to Clara and Henri's house, and the streets were beautiful the whole way. I helped her make sandwiches, then we all sat around the small table and had a long conversation. It was going wonderfully, until Gustave decided to bring our conversation up from that morning.

"Mother's going to sing for the Opera Populaire's benefit night."

I shot him a look that told him to stop talking, but he just grinned around the table. Clara was the first to speak.

"Oh, you are? Oh, Christine, that's wonderful! I always wondered if you missed it."

I shook my head and took a long sip of tea, trying to decided what to say next. "I haven't said I'm going to sing yet. I was asked this morning. Raoul doesn't think it's such a good idea."

"She thinks she can't sing." Gustave said. Henri raised his eyebrow, which my son caught. "Have you heard her sing?"

"I have,"

"When?"

"I believe I saw your mother in Hannibal. I had tickets to see Don Juan Triumphant as well, but -" he stopped short and Gustave sat up straighter in his chair. I shook my head desperately at Henri.

"Why didn't you see that one?"

"It stopped running." I explained shortly. "There was an accident and the opera house caught fire."

"That's a shame," my son went back to eating his sandwich, still listening to us as we changed the subject.

Gustave had never learned of what had happened at the opera house. Raoul and I didn't speak of it. My son had hardly known that I could sing. I'd been sure not to sing in front of him since he'd been old enough to understand, just because Raoul was so uncomfortable when I did. The last thing I wanted was him asking us questions about the Phantom of the Opera. Such things captivated his young mind, and he'd probably never drop the subject.

After lunch, Henri took the children out, into the back yard and left Clara and I sitting at the table. She watched me for a moment and I knew what was coming.

"I never heard you sing."

"There's better out there than myself, Clara." In all the years I'd known her, she hadn't brought it up. I'd assumed she hadn't been interested. She wasn't the type who enjoyed going to watch operas, and instead preferred to stay at home and read a book.

"Not from what I've heard." she said with a small smirk. "I do recall your voice was described as...unearthly?"

"Things change. I don't sing anymore."

"And was that your decision, or your husband's?"

I gave her an outraged look. No one ever spoke of my husband negatively. No one but Clara. I'd noticed her do it on a few occasions now, and it made me uneasy. "You know very well Raoul can't just stop me from singing."

"But he can alter your way of thinking to make you believe you don't want to do it." she lifted her mug to her mouth, watching me the entire time. "I think you should do it, Christine."

"Are you just saying that so I'll go against what Raoul wants?"

"There's a first time for everything." she said with a small shrug. Oh, if only she knew just how much I'd gone against Raoul at the beginning of our marriage...

}~*~{

The idea of singing sunk further and further into my mind. It seemed as though at every moment it was teasing me, reminding me of the hopeful faces Firmin and Andre had given me.

The truth was, I wanted to sing. More than almost anything. I wanted to let myself know that I was still able to awe a crowd. I wanted Gustave to be proud of me, especially after all of his questions about my voice. I felt bad for snapping at him about it. But more than anything, I wanted to do something Raoul couldn't hold me back from, just to prove to him that I was better than just sitting back and letting him control my life. I know this was wrong; he was my husband, but I couldn't help it. I always felt almost helpless when it came to things like this, and he sometimes seemed smug, as if he knew.

Without realising it, I'd spent years yearning for the moment when I'd be able to step back onto stage in front of a silent crowd and let my voice take over. And this time I would be able to do it for whoever I wanted. I didn't feel as though I owed a debt to anyone for my voice. This time he wouldn't be listening. I was going to sing for whoever I wanted while I was up there.

Yes. I was going to do it.

My satisfied smile slipped from my face as I realised what I was going to have to do next. Confront Raoul. I was sure he wasn't going to make this easy for me.

I waited until Thursday night to tell him. I was sitting in bed with a book when he walked through the door and began undressing for sleep.

"Raoul," I murmured quietly from my place.

"Hm?"

"I've been thinking about the offer from Andre and Firmin..."

He suddenly turned to me, dropping is coat on the desk beside him. "Don't you feel as though you're under any pressure, Christine. They're idiots. They're only thinking about what's best for them. If you don't want to sing, don't sing."

"No, Raoul." I closed my book and stood slowly. "I want to sing."

"What?"

"Well, it's been such a long time...and I do miss it. It was my life just years ago. I've felt as though there's something missing for a while now, and what if my music is just that?"

"There's more to your life than music, Christine. You have a family now -"

"Did you know Gustave's never heard me sing?"

"Of course he has. You used to sing to him all the time."

"When he was too young to remember. Raoul, I haven't sung for years!"

"Because it upsets you." he said this as if I were a child and I'd forgotten something simple. I frowned at him, but decided not to get too deep into an argument. I wasn't going to try to say anything smart to bother him. I was just going to stand my ground and show him just how stubborn I could be for the first time in five years.

"It doesn't upset me, Raoul." I said calmly. "I think it upsets you."

He, however, didn't lower his voice. It got louder. "And I think I have every right to be upset about it, Christine!" he stormed forward, catching my shoudlers in his hands and shaking me slightly. "All I think of when you mention singing is what happened last time. I nearly lost you."

"That's over now, Raoul!" I held his face in my hands and he closed his eyes at my touch, his fingers loosening from me. "It's finished. You don't have to worry about it anymore." my voice was so soft now that some of my words got lost, but I continued anyway.

"I'm right here. You have me. I chose you." I told him gently. I closed my eyes as well, lowering my head as tears slipped from my eyes. Yes, I had chosen Raoul. But he hadn't been my final choice. "Just try to forget, Raoul. I've managed, you can too. Leave the past behind."

He finally opened his mouth and raised his hand to hold my wrist lovingly. "I'm sorry, Christine. It's just...when I think of your singing, I think of him. I can't help but feel as though your voice is haunted by him."

"It's my voice, Raoul. He doesn't own it. Didn't," I corrected myself, trying to live by the belief that Paris' Phantom was dead. I sighed and wrapped my arms around my husband's neck, resting my forehead on his chest. He was only wearing a white shirt now and I could feel his heartbeat comforting me against my face. "Please just let me do this. I want to prove to myself that I still can. That I'm not just a hopeless house wife."

"You know you're not." he murmured. I felt his arms curl around me as well and he kissed the top of my head. "But I guess I can't hold you away from this. I have you, so determined, at home, and Firmin and Andre begging me constantly during work. I'm the one that feels hopeless."

I giggled lightly against his shirt and turned my head up to give him a small smile. "Thank you,"

He shook his head and looked at me playfully. "You just better have kept your voice after all this time."

"You won't love me if I can't sing anymore?" I grinned.

"How embarrassing, to be married to an untalented woman."

I snorted and he chuckled before kissing me. His only objections for this were based on the fact of the memories which had haunted him. He didn't seem to care at all that a Vicomte should be shamed at marrying an opera singer. Of course, a performance at a concert was more respectable than acting in an actual opera every night, but I knew there would be people that still did not understand.

I could tell he wasn't happy about this, but he didn't want things between us to be difficult. Neither of us wanted that. I picked my book back up as he dressed in his nightwear and yawned widely, kissing my cheek one last time before putting out his bedside lamp.

"Goodnight, Lotte."

I smiled at the nickname which had survived for so long, resurfacing every now and then between us.

"Sleep well, Raoul."

}~*~{

Raoul accompanied me to the opera house the next morning before Gustave could wake. Our son hadn't brought up anything more about my singing and I was hoping he had dropped the subject completely so I could surprise him when it came closer to the date. I felt like I owed this to him. Gustave was the only person close to me who shared a love of music, and I knew he was going to be the only person to really appreciate my voice. Well, the only person I really cared about appreciating my voice.

"This is where your name will feature on the poster." Firmin pointed out, running his hands along a wide piece of paper on the wall in front of us. I nodded, looking over the colourful writing and taking in everything he was saying. Raoul cleared his throat from behind us.

"Christine Daaé?"

"It's her best known name." Andre explained, not looking up from his writing. "Surely the more ignorant audience in Paris would prefer to be entertained by a long forgotten diva with such a history, over a Vicomtess."

"I don't understand." Raoul sighed. He took his place beside me and wrapped his arm around my waist. "Why would they be so ignorant as to not be aware of who she is?"

"Christine Daaé will bring in a larger crowd than la Vicomtess de Changy." Andre assured him with a bored voice.

Raoul looked around uneasily. "Well, as long as Christine approves..."

"It's absolutely fine, Raoul."

He nodded once more and left to busy himself.

Monsieur Reyer, who was still working for the Opera Populaire, presented himself almost an hour after I'd arrived. After greeting each other for the first time in such a long while, we took seats in a couple of chairs and had a lengthy conversation about what I would be performing.

"Nothing from Don Juan Triumphant, I'm guessing?" he asked, as though this amused him. I did my best to smile, suddenly feeling ill and suggested something of my own.

"No, most definitely not. But I would prefer to perform something I have previously. Just for old time's sake."

"Hannibal? Your first show?"

"Perhaps," memories of being terrified in front of an audience as I sang out to them for the first time flooded through me, and I couldn't help smiling a little. "You wouldn't happen to have the sheet music to Think Of Me lying about, would you Monsieur?"