A/N: Sorry for taking quite a long time to post this chapter. I was spending my vacations in my grandma's house and the computer in there isn't that... cooperative :P But finally there you have chapter five, the penultimate chapter of this phic. As always, warnings about grammar errors are welcome and I would be pleased to read your reviews :)

Phantom Lover: You're right about the references, I love using this recourse. And yes, the tenor IS Rhapsody's vocalist, Fabio Lione. I think he has the talent and the dramatic capacity to be a tenor, but knowing the impossibility of this to happen in reality, I used it here ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, as said before...

Chapter V – The presentation and the presence

The weeks of tiring rehearsals passed fast. Faster than I wished.

I missed Erik's tutoring very much and for the first time in my career, I had to practice on my own. Even though I had interpreted this opera before, I needed his help and his persistence to achieve my best on every single note.

I continued to visit his house, but it was useless. He wasn't there and I hadn't heard the mysterious music anymore.

I couldn't rely on anyone to talk about my problems or rehearse with me. With the proximity of the opening night, everybody in the cast was becoming even more anxious and individualist. Madame Giry was doing her best with the Corps de Ballet, which means that Meg was rehearsing all the time. Despite that, she still arranged free time to become Lione's best friend. The man seemed to have pleasing ways and as Meg told me many times, he had an exotic charm with his long curled hair and dark eyes. She was constantly making long walks in the Parisian boulevards accompanied by him.

Finally, the gala night arrived and the Opera was crowded as always; all the high society was there, waiting to hear and see what they considered the best performances in the entire France.

I glanced at the Box Five during the entire presentation. That box had been nicknamed the "Haunted Box" since the starting of the strange occurrences attributed to the Opera Ghost. According to one of his demands, Erik was the only one who could sit there and watch me every night. I wondered if he was watching me from it that night and tried to catch any hint of his presence.

But, to my total deception, I didn't. I was beginning to think that maybe Meg was right; maybe Erik had traveled to another country, maybe he was dead. Suddenly, his words echoed in my mind, much more frightening than when they had been pronounced by him: I couldn't die without even looking at you for the last time. Avoiding the numerous compliments and the pain inflicted by all those dark thoughts, I tried to go directly to my dressing room, but a familiar voice interrupted my path before I could reach the door.

"Bravo, Christine," I turned. It was Raoul. I had seen him in the audience and had forgotten that he would probably come to compliment me. "You were brilliant today."

"Thank you, Raoul," I said, smiling, "it's very good to see you again."

"I knew that it would be good to have you working here again. You aren't my fiancée anymore," he spoke with an almost imperceptible note of sadness in his voice, then smiled and continued at once, "but you're the best to the opera house and… to my ears."

Now, it was fairly clear that Raoul could have prohibited the managers from contract me, but he didn't do that even with the end of our engagement. I was positive that any other man in his position wouldn't do the same.

"Well, thank you," I said and prepared to enter in my dressing room. "I have to go now… I'll change and go home."

"Won't you go to the cast's private party?" he asked with concern.

"No, I'm not feeling well," I observed his expression instantly change and added, "but don't worry, it's just a headache. I'll be better tomorrow."

"Oh," he tried to detain me, "I can escort you, if you wish."

"Thank you but no," I refused, touching lightly his shoulder. "I'll be fine. Besides, you shall not miss the party."

"All right," he nodded hesitantly, "if this what you wish... Good night, Christine."

"Good night, Raoul. See you."

I closed the door and changed quickly. Then, I went to the front of the mirror to face the grief uttered in my own image.

"Oh, Erik, how I wish you were here," I murmured, pressing my fingertips against the cold surface of my well-known passage and closing my eyes as insistent tears filled them.

Although the managers had suspected of my attitude, I insisted on keeping my old dressing room. I didn't care at all about their reactions, because I still had the hope that Erik would emerge from it and take me to his lair once again. Obviously, it hadn't happened. Sighing, I opened my eyes and stared at my own reflection. I gasped, astonished when I saw the image in there.

The mirror reflected the window of my dressing room, through it, the roof of the houses that surrounded the theatre and, on the top of one of them, a figure. Erik.

He didn't seem to notice my discovery as I went toward the window, trying to discern his figure in the shadows of the night. His black cloak looked like a big dark cloud, dancing with the wind, and I caught a glimpse of his white mask. Only then I realized that he wasn't looking at my dressing room, but to the opposite side, probably observing the people on street. Could it be that he was visible to me just by accident? That was what I called Fate. I dashed out of the opera house, promising myself that I wouldn't lose him this time and ran on the cobblestone streets, cursing my steps for being so noisy and checking if Erik was still on the roof. He was there all the time.

But when I finally reached the house and looked at its roof again, he wasn't there. I tried to breath unhurriedly and rationalize calmly. I had looked at the roof only seconds before stopping in front of that house. Erik probably was still there or, at least, not too far from me. I knew that he moved like a cat, becoming invisible to everyone. In this point, however, I was different from other people. I had a sixth sense that constantly warned me of his presence, even when he didn't want it.

Closing my eyes, I sensed the tense air that surrounded me as an indication of his presence there. I heard faint footsteps right behind me, as faint as they were that morning in the inn, and instinctively moved in that direction, succeeding on touch his stiffen sleeve.

"Erik, I won't let you go until you hear what I have to say," my voice ricocheted on the darkness of that place, with a firmness that I didn't know I had. "After that, if this is your wish, you will never see me again."