A/N: ghostwritten2, I'm so pleased you like Jimmy and Teddy. I'm very fond of them; they're fun to write.

"No." Erik turned from the window, fury in his eyes. "Absolutely not. How could you even imagine I would agree to something like this?"

On the other side of the desk Raoul sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I know it's a big change, but we have to make savings somewhere. These days so much can be done with keyboards and pre-recorded playback - "

"Have you ever heard of the ENO or the Royal Opera House using a reduced orchestra?" Erik demanded. "Trying to put on something like Rigoletto or Hannibal with half the number of musicians in the pit is insanity!"

"With the greatest respect, Erik, we're hardly Covent Garden, and since you insist on still having the big sets and costumes we have to cut back in other areas. Keeping such a large orchestra - "

"I hand-picked most of those musicians. When we shut down last year I gave them my word that their jobs would be waiting!" Christine could see from her position in the corner of the room that her husband was practically vibrating with anger. His fingers had clenched so tightly around the pen he was holding that it was in danger of snapping. "How am I supposed to tell some of them that there are no positions to return to? Do you really think they will just walk into other jobs with the industry in such chaos?"

Raoul frowned. "You had no right to promise them anything. You must have known the theatre would be in this position when we came to reopen. The losses over the last year have been even bigger than I thought; even making cutbacks we'll be lucky to come anywhere close to breaking even for a good twelve months, if not more."

"When I made those promises I was still in charge. I had no reason to believe we would ever come to a point where the money was more important than the music," Erik said bitterly. "Next you'll be telling me I have to sack half the chorus and decide between Christine and Theodora because we can only afford one leading soprano."

"There will have to be a couple of minor rearrangements in the company, but I'm not suggesting anything that drastic. Erik, it's either this or eventually everyone is out of work," Raoul told him, his tone amazingly calm under the circumstances. Christine had expected him to come back fighting when Erik had a predictably bad reaction to the 'important news' he wanted to discuss with them. She supposed it came from his years taking the lead on negotiating teams; he was used to dealing with difficult clients. "We can't go on as we have done in the past; we've had no revenue for over a year and the pot isn't inexhaustible."

Erik shook his head, gaze back on the half-open blind. "No," he said again. "You're a fool if you think I'm going to let you throw our entire reason for existing under a bus. Music is why we're all here; it may not mean much to you but to some of us it is everything, and I refuse to compromise. To suggest that my singers could continue to perform at their normal standards when supported by a depleted orchestra playing along to backing tracks is, quite frankly, one of the most insulting things I have ever heard, and I assure you I have endured plenty over the course of my life."

"I'm sorry you feel like that; it's not my intention to insult you. I was hoping to do this with your support, but if I have to I'll go ahead anyway." Raoul glanced at Christine. "It's not what any of us want, but it's the reality of the situation. If you've found a magic money tree, let me know and I'll be happy to put things back the way they were."

"Can't you just hold fire for a while?" Christine asked. "Until the variety show is done and we can see how the land lies? We won't be using the full orchestra for that; they can't all get into the pit at the moment under the regulations."

"I don't think it's good business sense to pay people when we're not using them, Chris. I'm really sorry; if there was another way - "

"Surely you can keep them on furlough? It won't cost you anything, will it?"

He didn't look convinced. "I don't know..."

"It would be better than making hasty decisions and ruining people's livelihoods. Erik?" She looked at her husband for support; he was still turned away, his back straight and shoulders tense. The chilly air coming through the open window must have been blowing onto his face and she wanted to tell him to move away in case it prompted neuralgia in the damaged side but knew it wasn't the time. "What do you think?"

For several moments he said nothing, before finally releasing a slow breath. "I think that such an excellent suggestion is typical of your natural compassion, my dear, something sadly lacking in others." He turned his head just enough to pin Raoul with a sharp stare. "What do you say, de Chagny?"

Raoul's gaze moved between them. He gave a huff of frustration. "I suppose I might be able to delay it a few weeks," he said, and slumped slightly in his seat, spreading his hands helplessly."Look, I'm not a bad guy, I'm not Ebenezer Scrooge for God's sake. I don't want to see people out on the streets, either."

Christine smiled at him behind her mask. "I know you're not the big bad wolf, Raoul."

"Thanks." He laughed slightly. "Believe me, if there's a way round this without having to resort to layoffs I'll take it; dealing with redundancy is horrible for everyone involved. And I know the music is important. I don't want to leave you with half an orchestra unless I have to, but I've not heard anything back about that government grant and Phil and the other investors will only advance so much cash before they decide it's not worth it any more."

"If we could just give it a little more time," she told him, knowing that she was winning him round. For all his business experience, Raoul was a softy at heart. "When we know whether the audience is going to come back, then we'll have a better idea of how things are going to pan out."

He drummed his fingers on the desk, eyebrows drawn together. "OK," he said eventually and had she been allowed she would have hugged him. "We'll wait. But I need you both to be aware:

"We could just be delaying the inevitable."

"I can't believe he actually said that," Meg muttered later as she sat on Christine's patio huddled into her jacket, a mug of steaming coffee in her hands. Around them it was starting to get dark, the sky tinted orange and purple as the sun went down; unfortunately everyone was too preoccupied to appreciate its beauty just at the moment.

"Oh, there was more," Christine told her. "Apparently if the next couple of shows don't pay they might decide to cut their losses completely and sell the theatre."

Her friend's eyes widened so much she thought they might pop out of her head. "No! Could they do that?"

"De Chagny-Whittaker own the Vanburgh, so technically they can," Madame Giry replied, sipping her own drink. "There aren't any leases to worry about. They would of course have to offer all the staff on the direct payroll redundancy but at the end of the day that would probably be the cheaper option."

"But that's not fair!" Meg exclaimed. "The pandemic wasn't our fault; why should we have to lose our jobs?"

"Unfortunately, my dear, people like Philip de Chagny don't see it that way. The theatre is an asset, nothing more, to be disposed of at will; those of us who work in it would just be collateral damage."

"It's not fair, but that's the way it is," said Christine, wishing not for the first time in her life that the maxim Sarah learnt in the Labyrinth wasn't actually true.

"How did Erik take it?" Antoinette asked. "I didn't see him at all this afternoon."

"How do you think? The stress brought on one of his migraines; he's upstairs, lying down. It's all right," Christine assured her when the older woman's forehead creased in concern, "I got him to take his meds in time; he'll be fine when he's had some rest." She didn't mention the fact that he'd said next to nothing on the drive home; she'd insisted on taking the wheel, knowing one of his attacks was imminent, and he'd just stared out of the car window, presenting her with his masked side. The fact that he'd gone to bed without complaint was worrying in itself.

"We have to do something," Meg announced. "We can't just take this lying down. Could we get up a petition, or strike?"

Christine sighed. "What would be the point of striking, Meg? We want to keep the Vanburgh open, not give them a reason to get rid of us."

"But to expect us to put on operas and ballets with half an orchestra... it's crazy! People will notice if the accompaniment is thin; they'll be able to hear every foot thumping on the boards."

"We know that, Marguerite, but faceless men in offices looking at balance sheets don't care," Erik said from the living room doorway. They all looked up in surprise: he was leaning on the frame, a thick cardigan pulled on over his shirt and trousers and dishevelled hair falling across his forehead. The visible side of his face was pale and he looked desperately tired.

"I thought you were asleep," Christine said, getting up; he waved her away, walking a little unsteadily to a chair and sinking into it. She grabbed the throw from the back of the sofa and tucked it around his shoulders. "It's still cold out here; you should have stayed in bed."

"I'll be all right; the pills have started to kick in now. A glass of water would be appreciated, though."

Madame tutted. "I thought the whole point of Raoul joining us was to relieve the pressure on your shoulders, not add to it," she said disapprovingly. "He just seems to be making things worse."

He shrugged. "What else can he do? The facts are the facts; I can't deny that our current financial position is precarious."

"Does that mean you agree with him?" Meg asked, horrified.

"Did I say that? I have stated before that I will not compromise on the quality of our productions and I stand by that. If I let him reduce the orchestra it will be just the start; before long we'll be using backing tracks for every performance with no live music at all. They'll replace the old stage machinery with automation because in the long run it will be cheaper than paying the crew." Erik took a grateful drink from the glass Christine handed him. "I could see it coming some time ago, but I hoped we might have been able to hold out a while longer."

Antoinette put her coffee cup down on the table. "Did you tell Gene about this?"

"Yes." He sighed heavily. "I've never seen him so shocked; for a few moments I honestly thought he was going to cry."

"The poor man. He must be devastated. He's thrown a great chunk of his life into that orchestra; if he'd pushed on with his career path he could have been conducting the LSO by now."

"I know, and that's yet another reason why I'm determined to oppose this. We're dealing with people, not numbers."

Christine perched on the arm of Erik's chair, rubbing his bicep. He rested a hand over hers. "At least we have a stay of execution for the moment. It gives us some time."

Meg looked miserable. "Time for what, though?"

"To prove what we can do, of course! We have to make the next production a success, show them what they'll be throwing away."

"Precisely," Madame agreed. "Tickets have already been released to the Friends and they are selling. Now it's up to us to make the show the best we possibly can."

"Maybe we could start a Facebook campaign," Meg mused, wrinkling her nose as she put some thought into it. "'Save the Vanburgh Orchestra', something like that."

Erik shook his head. "I don't want anyone else to know at present," he said firmly. "Nothing is official yet and there is no point in worrying people unnecessarily."

"Plus if it gets onto social media they'll know exactly who put it there," Christine added. "And that won't look good for any of us. Phil de Chagny doesn't like being publicly embarrassed; I know that from personal experience."

"Shame," the ballerina retorted. "He could do with taking down a few pegs and a bit of public embarrassment would probably do the trick." A sly expression came over her face. "You've known the family for ages, Chris: surely there's some juicy gossip we could use; maybe a deep, dark secret that they don't want revealed?"

"Because of course they wouldn't have a clue who started spreading it around, would they? And even if there was, do you honestly think they'd tell me? Don't forget I broke up with Raoul when they were already planning the wedding; I'm not exactly Phil's favourite person."

Meg shrugged. "I thought Raoul might have let a few things slip. Talking in his sleep, maybe, or during other unguarded moments..?"

"Meg!" Christine exclaimed, blushing, but Erik just laughed.

"Though it would please me more than anything to humble Philip de Chagny, as Christine says, it would hardly be a sensible course of action," he said. "After all, we don't want to give him any more excuses to close us permanently than he has already."

"Do please try to be a little more constructive, Meg," Madame groaned.

"So what do we do, then?" Meg asked. "We can't just sit on our backsides and let it happen."

"And we won't," Erik assured her. "We have a reprieve, so let's use it wisely."

"For what, exactly?"

He grimaced. "That's the part I haven't quite worked out yet."