When the stage was awash with music Meg could forget everything but intricate footsteps and graceful poses. In rehearsal, she was sixteen again, ebullient and full of hope. As tiring as it was, the end of rehearsal usually came with a little sadness. She smiled at the four princes as they greeted her one by one, briefly taking her hand to lift to their lips but ostensibly to briefly steady her as she balanced en pointe. The out of tune rehearsal piano clanged on and while she was dancing, Meg could even forget that.

The music stopped abruptly and her spirit sank a little. Meg took her place at the edge of the stage in front of the assembled company, trying to sit gracefully in her tutu; it was time for notes. She listened carefully for a few minutes but her attention quickly drifted to Christine, seated in the fourth row, her expression intense. Meg studied her more closely.

"Maman is right that Christine should be resting. Not here at all hours. There's no need." Meg stretched her legs out in front of her, sighing with relief. "I wonder if maman would mind if I had a hot bath." Baths were an undertaking and if she wanted hot water, she had to boil it herself. The assembled dancers drifted away in groups and the rehearsal pianist had closed the lid of that wretched instrument. Another night over; Meg stifled a yawn.

"Christine!" she called, waving for the other woman's attention. Christine's hands rested on her swollen belly, her head turned in profile, lovely in spite of the dark circles under her eyes. Meg followed her distant gaze toward the darkened boxes. Not boxes, only Box Five. His box. "Christiiiine!" she warbled, waving her arms wildly over her head until Christine turned sad blue eyes on her.

"Shall I give you a ride home, dearest?"

"Yes, please." she divested herself of her pointe shoes and climbed to her feet. Aurora was tucked away for another night, leaving plain old Meg Giry in her place. "I'll join you out front?" Meg was already flying through the wings on her way to her dressing room, the thoughts of a hot bath and cozy bed had reinvigorated her.

She was changed and skipping down the grand marble staircase to the Changy's waiting carriage outside in less than ten minutes. The footman handed her in and she settled in across from Christine and pulled her cloak tighter.

"I thought we might go for a little drive before I take you home?" Christine asked as the carriage lurched forward at her gentle knock. "I hoped to go to the Bois but it is a little far and your mother would have a fit."

The women drove in companionable silence, each gazing out at the dimly lit world of Paris at night. Even though Meg and her mother had parted badly, she really wanted to be at home and not rolling around the cobblestone streets but something in Christine's voice had silenced any dissent.

"He used to take me for drives along the Bois." Christine broke the fallen hush.

"He? Oh- she means Erik." Meg sighed inwardly; there was no diverting Christine sometimes.

"They were quiet rides but I loved them. He never said a word and I was too hungry for the outside world, even if it was late at night."

"That seems so - ordinary." she remarked, no longer wanting to curb the topic of conversation. Her heart hungered for information to flesh out the Opera Ghost in her mind.

"I think ordinary was all he ever wanted." Christine murmured, twisting the gold band around on her finger. Her gaze was still fixed on the slowly passing scenery, such as it was. "He wanted a living wife, a little wife to call his own and take out for a drive on Sundays."

"I could have been that little wife." Meg thought ruefully, knowing that it was Christine and not she who the Phantom had set his heart on.

Pale yellow light from the gas lamps cast gentle shadows along the walks and in bare trees lining the street.

"We must be near the Tuileries." Meg thought, though she honestly had no clue.

"I take it that the drives stopped awhile before Don Juan premiered." she observed. Christine only nodded and Meg lapsed back into silence, waiting for the next tidbit.

"Raoul saw us one night and chased after the carriage. I returned very shortly after." Christine clutched at the beaded reticule next to her and with a little nod, reached in and withdrew a long flat rope.

"Rope is not flat, you idiot."

The carriage rolled on into the neighbourhood near the Giry flat, she felt a flash of annoyance; she was dog tired and Christine drove her out here to show her a piece of rope?

"He gave this to me during my time with him.." she leaned forward and pushed the item into Meg's hands. It was cool and smooth; a silk ribbon, that shone blood red in the street light. "I want you to have it, Meg and perhaps wear it in your hair on opening night?"

"Are you certain?" Meg whispered, rather stunned by the gesture, rubbing the silk greedily between her finger and thumb. Silk he had touched. "A connection to Erik."

Christine nodded forcefully, in an effort to convince Meg, or maybe herself. "Raoul would never let me keep it if he noticed, if he knew. The opera house feels very empty without our ghost."

The carriage had come to a stop in front of the flat but Meg made no move to jump out. She slipped the ribbon into a hidden pocket inside her cloak.

"I will wear it with pleasure, for you." she promised, noticing for the first time the lines at the corners of Christine's eyes and the tight line of her lips. Meg placed a light kiss on her friend's cold cheek. "You do not look well, Christine. Please rest, promise me. We can manage a few days without you."

The ballet could manage every day, all of the days, without Christine's presence. There were dozens of capable and talented people in their employ. That's why Christine had employed them in the first place. The carriage door swung open and the footman waited patiently to hand Meg out to the sidewalk.

Christine gave her a faint smile. "I promise. You shall not see me for at least a day."

"It had better be for more than one day." Meg warned, taking the footman's gloved hand and descending to the street. "Sleep well, darling." she waved to her friend and hurried inside, eager to warm up by the stove and hopeful her mother would not be inclined to argue.