A/N - Everyone. Thank you once again for your marvelous reviews. I feel giddy when I think of some of the kind things you've said. Oh - for Desolator the dragon, I thank you very, very much. Yet there is no need to check every few hours. I usually only post once a day, whether it's only one chapter, or several at one time. All right? I'm sorry but my muse is still being picky and mean, so my posts will be slowing.

Thank you so much! --Angelofnight

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"Oh . . . my dear managers . . . I found this envelope on the floor beneath box five. It must have fallen from there. It's addressed to you."

Ah, what a fun game. Erik had come into the theatre early that morning, before anyone else had arrived, to see that the managers received his note. Of course they had received it, and read it thoroughly. To see his handwriting again, along with his demands, made them sputter and quake humorously. Erik often found it hard not to laugh outright as he watched and listened from the shadows, just like the Opera Ghost was best at doing. And since then, he'd decided he liked seeing them kept up on their feet. The envelope he was now handing to Monsieur Richard held nothing more than a simple few lines reminding them about Madeline. Yet it was enough to start them going again. He only decided to lightly torment them a bit more simply because it made him laugh. He had no ill intentions towards them whatsoever today. He was in too good of a mood to take on the persona of the Phantom once more!

"Thank you . . . Monsieur . . ." Richard opened the latter with trembling hands, and Erik bowed politely, making as though he were walking out of the office. Yet he stopped just outside the door and watched from the darkened hallway as they began sputtering and arguing. Oh, he liked enraging them! And they had no idea they'd just seen the Opera Ghost face- to-face!

"Erik!"

He turned abruptly at the sound of a voice calling his name, and then smiled even more broadly. Christine was coming down the hallway, wrapped tightly in a soft velvet coat with a bit of white fur on the edges of it. No doubt it had been a gift from her fiancée. Her golden hair was piled high atop her head, and she smiled at him warmly as she came closer. Erik held out his hands in greeting as the lights to the hallway were turned on by one of the stage workers down the hall.

"Christine, my dear!" He greeted warmly. "You look absolutely beautiful this morning! Are you ready for your first day as the true Prima Donna of the Opera House?" She giggled softly, squeezing his hands tightly in excitement.

"Yes, very ready." She exclaimed. "Are you ready to become principal tenor? You aren't used to running around the schedule of others, Erik. This may prove to be trying on your patience."

"Oh, come now, Christine!" He scolded, laughing as he turned to escort her down the corridor. "You know perfectly well that I never run out of patience!"

They walked in companionable silence for a few moments, walking up to the next floor to find their assigned dressing rooms. Erik's was only a few doors away from Christine's, and they both laughed when they saw she still had the same room as long before. Her door was away from all of the others, though not so far away so that she wasn't in a still relatively busy area. Erik had no doubt that this was the managers' doing. They probably thought Christine was still going to be in league with the Opera Ghost!

"Well, Cherie, shall I leave you to prepare yourself?" He asked quietly, his eyes growing soft as he finally took a moment to really admire her beauty. His heart still ached every time he looked at her. When he watched her speak, his lips always tingled in remembrance of the one kiss she'd given him. The only kiss he'd ever known. She looked back up at him quietly, totally unawares as to where his thoughts were.

"Actually, Erik . . . I was wondering . . . If you weren't too busy . . ."

"What is it, Christine? You can ask anything of me. You know that." Slowly, he reached up to touch her cheek gently. How odd. A week ago, he never would have dared touch her, for fear of her shrinking away from him. Now, he went doing things left and right that he would have hesitated in doing as the Phantom. What a change in confidence he had with such a beautiful and young face.

"Would you help me warm up my voice? I keep your lessons in mind every single day when I practice. I haven't been idle. I swear to you. I just . . . I miss our lessons, if truth be told."

"So do I." He breathed softly, his hand dropping to his side. "Come. We can go to one of the practice rooms. I don't have my violin with me. I don't have it at all anymore, actually. Almost all of my things were stolen or destroyed by the mob. So we'll have to use the piano in the practice room."

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Monsieur Reyer was still the choral instructor of the Opera House. Apparently, he was the only one who had not been scared into leaving (other than the dim-witted managers) by the affairs of the Opera Ghost. Erik had always felt a certain respect towards the man. He was good at his job with even the most uncooperative or addlebrained of singers he was meant to instruct.

Unfortunately, however, Ubaldo Piangi, deceased principal tenor, had always taken up a great deal of Monsieur Reyer's attention with his mistakes in pronunciation, and the horrible way in which he would often destroy majestic pieces of work with his uncooperative voice. Oh, the man had a fine voice, but it was so untrained that it was a miracle he could hold a tune without someone singing it directly into his ear!

Because of how much time Piangi had always taken up Monsieur Reyer's time, the chorus had rarely been given enough attention. True, their ability to sing correctly was secondary to the principal roles in any opera. Yet still Erik often found himself shuddering at their lack of preparation during performances. At least now Reyer would be able to commit more time to the chorus, who was always trying desperately just to keep up.

He had it all planned, you see. Erik knew how he could make certain that the chorus got the attention they needed. Without trying to offend Monsieur Reyer, or step on his toes as a professional, he would tell the man he was well versed in how to give vocal instruction to the principal parts of the opera. Then, if Monsieur Reyer did not object, he would gladly take those people into a separate practice room to go over their roles, including his own (for the sake of fairness. Erik knew, after all, that he would need very little instruction himself.), while Monsieur Reyer at the same time rehearsed on stage with the chorus. That way, rehearsals would go so much easier, and would take up far less time. That was only, of course, if Monsieur Reyer did not object. Erik respected the man enough not to make demands. And he didn't want to seem like a pompous, stuck up Prima Donna, like Piangi or Carlotta.

Before any of this would be possible, however, he had to survive his first day of rehearsals with those who had feared his countenance as the Phantom for many years now. Again, the thought almost amused him. Yet he managed to remain distracted by listening to the chorus and secondary roles of the opera as they rehearsed. Another way to spend the time was to stare at Christine, and simply appreciate her beauty, and their true friendship with one another. If he became bored, he would simply look over the auditorium with his eyes, and see if anything might need repairing. If it did, he would just send another note to the managers as the Opera Ghost.

"Monsieur Génie, your role is as such . . ."

Erik waved to the man politely, shaking his head.

"Monsieur Reyer, I promise you that I am quite well-versed in my part." He assured the man softly. "I can sing it now without reminder of how it goes." To dull the edge of his words, he gave the instructor a gracious smile, which was returned by the man with a little nod that seemed like a partial bow. Monsieur Reyer began to play the instrumental part of the piece, and Erik grinned. So he was trying to challenge him now? Well Erik could meet just about any challenge!

"No man has called me coward. And shall not while I live!" There was a pause as another man sang a few words.

"Decide, then!" Erik glanced to the man who was to play the Commendatore opposite him, and nodded briefly.

"I have decided."

"You'll come then?" Another voice broke in. Erik almost grinned. Without even going over their parts, everyone on the stage was leaping into their roles without being asked.

"Tell him you won't! Tell him you won't!"

"No man shall call me coward! I feel no fear! I will!"

"Give me your hand and swear it!"

"Certainly!" Erik paused, looking towards Monsieur Reyer. The man looked utterly speechless. Things had never gone so smoothly before. Oh, certainly the others held an off note or two. Yet for the most part, there was little to go over. Perhaps it was simply that they had the sufficient confidence at last. "Let go!"

"Afraid?"

"I feel a deadly cold!"

"Kneel and pray God for pardon. His mercy still can save you!"

"Let dotards talk of kneeling. God is a fairy tale!"

The music stopped abruptly, and all was silent for a long minute. Erik looked around at those who stared back at him. Monsieur Reyer stood slowly, bowing to him politely, and then turned.

"Monsieur Favãe, please begin on measure . . ."

The rehearsal continued quite smoothly after that. During the break that the cast took for lunch, Erik took the opportunity to take Monsieur Reyer aside, and give the man his proposition. Eagerly, Monsieur Reyer accepted. So after the lunch break, Erik would take the other principal cast members into another practice room to go over their roles with them. Christine and a Jacques Lefeúre, who would play the role of Leporello in the Opera they were rehearsing - "Don Giovanni" - seemed to need the most assistance, although both were very well practiced already.

Yet first, Erik needed to find himself some lunch. It would not be easy to keep his patience up if he was working on an empty stomach. He still ate very little, as he had in the past. Yet now he had just a little bit more. At least now he had two meals a day, three if anything came to mind that he might wish to eat just for the sake of tasting. Slowly, he made he way towards the front doors of the Opera House, and stopped immediately when he saw Madeline standing in the middle of the lobby, searching out his face anxiously.

"Madeline?" He moved across the room quickly, and she finally saw him amidst the cast members also moving outside. "Madeline . . . I hadn't expected you to come here today. Come along. We can get you in to see the managers right away."

She followed him quietly, looking about the building in awe at what she saw after each turn. It gave Erik pleasure to see someone admiring one of his greatest accomplishments. He had, after all, taken a great part in building the Opera House. He turned to urge her closer to him, however, ill at ease with how she wandered a distance away. He kept one hand hovering behind the small of her back as he lead her towards the managers office, and knocked quietly.

"Messieurs, I have a young lady here to see you. A Madame Madeline."

The door opened immediately, and Erik tried to stifle a laugh at the looks on the faces of the managers. They seemed to be glancing around nervously, believing that the Opera Ghost was probably watching them. Slowly, Erik urged her into the office, and then leaned against the doorframe, watching casually.

"She says that she is in search of a job." He said quietly, before Madeline could speak. She turned to look at him curiously, and he just winked. "Do you think we can do anything for her?"

"Oh . . . I am sure we can find something!" Andre said quickly, still looking around at the walls, even at the ceiling! Erik had to make at rubbing his chin as though it itched to keep from showing them a grin. "Come and sit down, Madame, while we speak of your experiences . . ."

He was quite certain that Madeline would be safe in the hands of the managers, and so slowly turned to walk back out of the Opera House. He needed to get his lunch before it was too late. Yet as he stepped out into the bright sunlight, he was surprised to see Christine sitting in an open- air carriage, waving him over.

"Erik! There you are!" She exclaimed. "I thought you were never going to come out! Come have lunch with me!"

Smiling, he made his way down the steps of the Opera House.

"How could I turn down such a lovely invitation?" He asked, laughing happily as he climbed into the cab to sit beside her. He took her hand gently, kissing the back of it before simply resting their joined hands between them. Today had no downfalls at all. There was only a bit of guilt lingering in his mind. He'd promised Marguerite and Fleur that they might spend the entire day with him, and he had not been able to even apologize to them when he realized rehearsals would start today. Yet they were good children, and very understanding. Surely they would forgive him.

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N/A - I originally had this chapter ending with Madeline coming only to ask Erik's help with Fleur, who had developed a fever. Yet I thought putting the twins in every single scene would get poor Erik NOWHERE.