a/n: I must say that this is pretty good for me, updating pretty well so far, and I have the next chapter typed, but I need to go and check through it, I'll post it for you all tomorrow! Hope you like this chapter for now! please review!

Disclaimer: still own nothing :'(

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The next day we need to start our rehearsals for Don Juan. I hope that I'm ready.

I'm up extra up early and dress fast, turned away from the mirror.

"This is nothing different than before, now I'm just simply in a larger part," this isn't helping my nerves any.

When I open the door to get to the stage I almost run into Madame Giry.

"I'm so sorry," I stammer out.

"It's alright, Christine. And I think you'll be happy to hear why I'm here. I talked to your visitors last night, all of them, and I asked them not to bother you so late again," I laugh. The thought of the Phantom taking orders from Madame Giry. Then I realize something: how does she know he came back? Or doesn't she?

"Thank you, Madame," I answer, in spite of my questions.

"Now! Let us get you into your costume," she smiles, ushering me back into my room.

"Pardon, Madame, but I'm already in my costume," I look back at her, confused.

"Not the one you are wished to wear," she answers, almost scolding me.

"And who wishes to change my costume?" that's an obvious answer.

"I think you know very well, Mademoiselle," she gives me a stern look and I nod, showing I do, in fact, know: the Phantom.

"I will return in a moment, and then I'll escort you to the stage," before I can answer she drops my new costume on my bed and moves out of the room in one swift movement.

Well, this is a fine mess I'm in: a part that I barely am confident with, the Phantom trying to lure me back to him, Raoul ready to kill the Phantom… well maybe that's not a change, but a mess none the less… and finally my heart dragging me in two directions. What next?

A sound from behind the mirror. I turn in the other direction and quickly change, as if I hadn't heard a thing.

When I finish I first look to the mirror, then the bouquet of flowers that I got from Raoul a few days ago, and finally a portrait of my father. I walk over to it and whisper, "Please, father, guide me."

Seconds later Madame Giry enters the room and looks at me, "Ready?"

"Yes, Madame," I walk back over to her and we leave the room together.

When we leave the room she holds me at arm length; "You're beautiful in this."

I look down and actually see the dress for the first time. It's a dark, beautiful, and yet cryptic crimson, with black decorations adding to the beauty, and adding to the foreshadowing and symbolism of the play.

We start walking and I try to talk, "You don't have—"

"Yes I do, Christine. Signora Carlotta is not very happy with the casting choice, and you know how she can be," unfortunately I do.

We walk the rest of the way in silence, seeing no one as we approach; maybe rehearsal has already started.

When we arrive I think otherwise.

No one's there, except for Monsieur Andre, Monsieur Firmin, and Maestro.

"What is the meaning of this? What is going on here?" Madame Giry explodes.

"Carlotta is going on here! She turned the whole cast against us and now they refuse to rehearse," Maestro seems ready to burst into tears.

"I will handle this," Madame Giry grabs my arm, pulling me backstage again, headed towards the warm up room.

There we find the cast, sitting in costume, anger written across their faces.

"What is the problem here?" Madame Giry demands.

"I refuse to perform!" Carlotta shouts.

"That much is apparent Signora, but why?" Madame Giry counters.

"Because this whole thing is a disgrace to all of us who can act, and sing," she straightens at the end in pride, as if she really thinks she's the best.

"Really? Who says Christine can't sing," the only person who seems to counter the feeling is Meg.

I silently word 'Thanks' and she words back 'You're welcome'.

"That monster," I unconsciously clench my teeth, "storms in, throws us an opera that is completely degrading to us all, and then we go and listen to what he tells us! I am leaving!" she storms out, and half the cast follows her.

I look at who's left and see it's three singers and half the dancers, the ones that were always my friends.

I blush, but Madame Giry speaks too quickly for me to say anything, "Well then, for the singers: you may go, practice is over. But you dancers: follow me, we can still work!"

I nod to her and quickly scamper off.

In my room I once again look at my father's picture and decide what to do for the rest of my day.

I change into my street clothing and quickly wrap a warm cloak around my arms.

I go downstairs and walk up to the driver of the coaches.

"Please, take me to the cemetery," I drop enough money in his hands to get me twice the distance and back. I know that he's been bribed by Raoul to not let me leave, but what Raoul doesn't realize is that I know what gets people further than charm: money.

"Right away, Mademoiselle," he starts to harness a couple of horses and I walk out towards the street.

In seconds he meets me out there, but now he's wearing a dark cloak, different than before, but it is quite chilly out.

The ride is silent, except the whisper of wind and the clop of the horses as we travel, getting closer to my father's grave, the one place of peace these days.

When we reach the cemetery I turn to the driver, "Please wait."

"I'll be right here," he answers; his voice is different, but only slightly.

I walk and half way there I start to sing unconsciously, "You were once/my one companion you were all that mattered . . . You were once a friend and father - then my world/was shattered . . . Wishing you were somehow here again . . . wishing you were/somehow near . . . Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed, somehow you would be here . . . Wishing I could hear your voice again . . . knowing that I never would . . . Dreaming of you won't help me to do all that you dreamed I could . . . Passing bells and sculpted angels, cold and monumental, seem, for you, the wrong companions - you were warm and gentle . . . Too many years/fighting back tears . . . Why can't the past/just die . . .? Wishing you were somehow here again . . . knowing we must say goodbye . . . Try to forgive . . . teach me to live . . . give me the strength to try . . . No more memories, no more silent tears . . . No more gazing across the wasted years . . . Help me say goodbye."

I now find myself kneeling at the foot of his grave, silently and only slightly weeping.

All of a sudden I feel a hand on my shoulder, "My angel, why do you weep?"

I look up, startled, to see the Phantom, hovering over me, but concern written across his face.

"Oh, my angel, you scared me. I thought that you were Raoul, and I knew he would be mad to find me here, disobeying his orders," he kneels down with me, getting his clothing wet in the snow as I am.

He reaches an arm around my shoulders and embraces me, and I find myself falling into his embrace and weeping uncontrollably. I cry for my father's death, for the man that holds me, and for…

"Chritine?" Raoul?

"Christine," the voice is weak.

I turn and see Raoul standing there, watching the Phantom and me as we stay in a deep embrace.

"Oh God, Raoul," I jump up, and the Phantom releases me as I do so.

"How dare you!" he growls, but I can't tell if he's growling at the Phantom or me.

All of a sudden both of them have their swords drawn and the Phantom is pushing me behind him, away from the fight that is about to start.

And then it commences, the bloodshed, on both sides, so much that I know I must stop it. But how?

I watch as Raoul makes a harsh blow to the Phantom's head by countering an attack of the Phantom's. The Phantom is on the ground, and Raoul stands above him, about to make a move that could end it.

"NO!" with out thinking I jump in the middle of the two, just as Raoul's sword goes to make a fatal blow to the heart.

The sword embeds in my arm.

I cry out in pain and watch as the Phantom catches me around the waist and Raoul drops his sword.

The last thing I see is Raoul drop to his knees and the Phantom let me lay upon him as he shifts me off of a wound before my surroundings are lost to the blackness that pain is accompanied with. And then there's simply nothing.
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a/n: please tell me what you think! please?