"Ubaldo! No!" Carlotta was horror-struck as she dashed over to Piangi's unconscious body, sobbing in anguish at her lover's apparent death. "O, ha ucciso mio caro! O Dio, aiuto! Mio caro! Mio amore...!"

Jezebelle gaped in horror at these new disasters. "I have to find Christian! What if something happens to him?" she paced for a moment, not sure of what to do... but then she remembered something.

"That voice in the dressing room...!" she broke into a run, dodging terrified theater patrons.


Christian recoiled in horror at hearing of the chaos that was building up around Piangi's death (or so it seemed to the people above them). And the fallen chandelier! Now the situation was precarious.

"Erik, are you mad? Why did you have to kill him?"

Erik glared at him. "I only drugged him, Christian. He'll be awake within five hours, but perhaps he will be somewhat wiser before he disrespects us. We don't like him anyway, Christian. He's spoken ill of us so often..."

"But Erik... you shouldn't have come tonight! Why did you come when I asked you not to...?" Christian protested, his voice shrill with anger and panic.

They glared at each other, but the anger was quickly dropped. Now they had larger troubles. Angry cries emanated from above them, uttering curses towards Erik.

"What do we do now?" he felt limp as he watched Erik hurriedly rowing the boat. Neither of them could speak. They hadn't much to say.


"So here it is!"

Jezebelle had searched desperately about the dressing room, looking for some way out other than the door. A button, a switch, any hidden device that would indicate a secret passage of some sort... what was that?

A faint, cold draft wafted from the mirror. She stood there, making sure that she wasn't imagining it. Looking closer, she could see that the mirror's pane was askew.

"Could this be it?" she wondered. Eagerly, she maneuvered her fingernails into the small opening and pulled slightly. The pane moved with her! Jezebelle hurriedly pulled the pane aside and gazed into a dim, stone corridor.

Now she ran as fast as she could through the labyrinth. She shrieked and stood frozen for a moment as she passed several mice, which squealed with fright and scampered away at this unexpected visitor. Waiting until the mice had scampered of into the darkness, Jezebelle hoisted her skirts back up and continued running through the dim labyrinth of corridors. It wasn't long before she came across the edge of the lake. She stopped, not sure of where to go next... was it possible that she had to swim across the lake to reach Christian?

She gazed at the black water for a moment, not sure if she should try for it, but she was determined to get Christian.

"It's now or never. I'm going to get Christian back!" she thought.

She pulled off her coat and tore at her petticoats and corset and tossed them aside, preparing to dive into the black water.

"Jezebelle De Chagny, come back here!" an angry voice rang out. Jezebelle whipped her head around to see Madame Giry racing down the stairs, her black skirt hiked up so that she could move easier. "Jezebelle De Chagny, I command you to come back here! You have no business being here!"

Jezebelle ignored her and leapt into the inky lake.

Oh, but it was cold! Jezebelle felt as though she'd been kicked in the chest. But she wasn't giving up...

Surfacing, she could hear Madame Giry's angered shrieks behind her. She set off the best that she could.

She started in surprise as rough cables snaked around her. Jezebelle struggled against them, but she only managed to become more entangled.


"Erik, where will we go?"

Erik winced as he held his violin case. He knew that he'd not been away from Paris for a good while, let alone from the opera house. In fact, he'd rarely left the opera house itself. It was very likely that all of Paris would recognize him; if that would prove to be true, then there would be hell to pay. They would need to flee elsewhere.

"We will flee to other parts, my love. To where, I don't know, but somehow, we will manage." Erik tried to keep his voice calm. They had not much time to pack.

Christian nodded, assured that Erik knew what he was doing. They bustled about, trying to gather up their most treasured possessions. They could only take what they could carry, what they needed to survive... anything that would remind them of their home. Erik's manuscripts and violin, Christian's sole photograph of his mother...

Scurrying as they stuffed their belongings into pillow cases, burlap sacks, anything handy, they tried not to look around them as they rushed. The cavern that had been their home, that Erik had worked so hard upon, would be destroyed. Erik's beloved pipe organ, where his glorious music had come to life, would be gone. His music, their bedroom, all of their beautiful furniture, books, and memories were to be demolished in one night. Christian winced from glancing at the dining chamber, the music hall, their bedroom... anything. Tears burned his eyes and he tried to swallow the lump that grew in his throat. Their home. Their beloved home would be gone.

Casting their bags into a pile, Erik turned to face Christian, nervousness flitting across his face.

"Christian-."

"What is it?" Christian was knotted up in distress.

"I'm so sorry for what has happened tonight. I should never have come and I know it, but I wanted to see you... can you ever forgive me?" Erik implored, his eyes pleading.

"Of course, I can, Erik," Christian said tiredly, gazing at his sweetheart with a sad smile on his face, "I wish that you had been more careful, though, but this must be put behind us. I forgive you, love."

"Would you still marry me, Christian?" inquired Erik, dropping to his knee before Christian. His hands caressed their way over Christian's hands, emphasizing the silver and amethyst ring that adorned Christian's ring finger. "Would you?" he asked, looking beseechingly into the sapphire eyes that looked back into his own eyes.

Christian beamed at him, remembering through the chaos the moment when Erik offered the ring to him that evening. Tears shone on his face in the candlelight, framing his smile.

"Of course I will, darling...!" he squeaked.

Erik's face lit up. Rising, he took Christian into his arms. Their lips were like silk upon silk. Breaking away, Christian rested his face in the soft, white fabric of Erik's shirt. He'd found solace for once that night...

A splash caught their attention.


Jezebelle climbed out of the water in her stockings and chemise. She approached the portcullis, her hair stuck to her forehead and clinging to her shoulders. Rope burns etched her skin.

"So there you are!" she shouted, her voice harsh and rough from exhaustion.