A/N: Please, please excuse the slow update! I'm working on it, honestly! Lol

Thank you, as always for the wonderful reviews!

Sbkar: Welcome back lol! Thank you for ALL of your reviews. It had certainly pushed my total up!

Modesty: Do you think Erik has killed her or spared her:D I've just read your update! Very good,

Amber: Looking forward to reading the next instalment… thank you for the review.

Lost: So nice! You're so nice and you have the same attitude as me when it comes to reviews. Do to others… etc!

Again please excuse any mistakes. Its been a long few days!

E-mail any bad mistakes to me and I will immediately correct them!

Onward!

Chapter 39- A dish best served cold.

It had not been long after Christine had first arrived at the opera house that she had heard that conversation. It was amazing how quickly it had come back to her, tumbling like spray from a waterfall into her mind. She had not been much more than seventeen years old and was still young in her mind, not matured enough to be without her father. He had been such a shelter in her life.

She remembered it now, almost word for word that conversation because the words had frightened her so much and they had been so heartfelt.

Christine had been exploring the theatre one morning in early spring, she had wandered through its hallways and through the seats up to the boxes to the side of the stage. The beautiful upholstery, the fabulous colours, the comfort afforded for the people who flocked there to see the operas. As she turned the corner towards box five she had seen a shadow disappear into the distance in one direction and then suddenly she heard voices from the other. She recognised the female voice immediately as that of Madame Giry, the ballet mistress.

Her voice was cold and hard and she was talking to a man. The other voice in the room was strained, as if someone were making the effort to sound nice. It hadn't worked very well at all and she could hear to impatience in Madame Giry's voice as she approached.

As Christine had gotten closer she peered around the wall into the Box and there was Madame Giry conversing with an older gentleman, pug faced and tall. She was animated as she spoke to him and her hands were moving in front of her, whatever she had been saying she sincerely meant,

'Monsieur Contigue!' she exclaimed. 'I will not allow you to take any of my girls.'

Christine had huddled down allowing her young curiosity to gain control over her better judgement. Her better judgement was something she had used rarely as a child but this occasion was one of those she wished she hadn't heard.

'Madame,' he began. 'With all due respect your girls would be much better travelled with me. They would enjoy it so much more!'

It was then that Christine had caught a glimpse of the Madame's face, full of fire and from what Christine could see, rage. It had contorted into an angry frown as she glared at the man, standing there looking so confident.

'They will not take part in your carnival!' she had growled. 'I will recommend none!'

'Just two?' he said, 'Two and I will be gone. They are good but would be better off with me!'

'None.' She said firmly.

'Then why did you meet with me at all?' he snapped, his voice shifting from calm to angry so quickly.

'I was told to.' She said and began to turn towards the exit. Christine had had to jump back so that she wasn't seen and she hid herself behind the curtain, nervous and praying they would not hear her heart thudding.

'By whom?'

'By the man who runs the theatre, Pierre.' She said with a wry smile. Pierre Contigue had glanced at her with curiosity as she turned again to face him.

'Then surely he wants you to recommend a rat to me, a dancer I can use, mould for my circus!' he asked, agitated.

Madame Giry had simply but firmly shook her head. That was a no to Pierre Contigue and he was not a happy man.

'Then why did he say to meet with me?' Pierre asked, exasperated.

'He wanted me to give you a message.' She said simply.

'And what message would that be?' Pierre had said, smiling with amusement.

'If he ever hears your voice in his opera again he will cut your Adams apple from your throat and make you carry it across the stage.'

And with those words Christine's eyes had widened, she had never heard such evil or disgusting words before and certainly not from the ballet mistress. It wasn't simply what was said it was the way she had told him. The way she had delivered this message. Her mouth twisting around the words, breathing ice on them for that split second and Christine had heard an emotion in them she did not recognise.

As Christine thought about that encounter, in Box 5, her heart pounded. Everything spilled into her mind and made sense, over taking her thoughts. The emotion in Madame Giry's face was hate and the words were those of Erik. Suddenly it had all come together, over ten years later.

Christine glanced at the two people helping her husband from the floor of the cell as she held the torch aloft for them so that they could see. Erik had been one of these people. He had been one of Contigue's captives and this expedition wasn't about Raoul or Christine. It was about revenge.

Raoul couldn't believe his eyes, or his eyes… or anything for that matter. He looked up and there they were, all three of them standing at the cage door with a torch burning in front of them. At first, when he heard the noises from down the corridor he was sure that it was Pierre's men come to finally end his misery but no. It had been Christine come to end it, to save him.

Her voice was like heaven outside of that door, he could see her through the bars and although the flames hurt his eyes he could not stop looking at her. For a while he thought he was imagining if or it was an angel, she had come down to bring him up so that they could be together in death as well as in life. He had spent the last Lord knows how many days in the belief that she was dead. But she was not! She was alive and well and standing in front of him like the goddess that she was!

The two people she was with helped him to his feet and he was shakey, barely able to put one foot in front of the other but he knew that he had to. Christine had stayed at the door and he needed to get to her, he needed to hold her and feel her warmth. This was all almost too much for his weak body to handle.

He staggered towards her and as he got there she seemed to snap out of a day dream and she threw her arms around him, crying his name into his neck. Oh, her lips on his neck. He never thought he would feel it again, never again! Oh how he'd missed her, her body shivered against his and he squeezed her with all the power he had left.

'You need this,' came a deep voice from behind him and as he turned to face one of the men Christine had arrived with he found a pistol being placed into his hand. 'We will be going now. The back way.'

'And us?' Christine asked as Raoul took the weapon and held it as tightly as he could.

'Follow the same path as before.' The other man said with a smile. Raoul looked from Christine to the men who were in poor shape, both dirty and deformed in some way.

'Your names?' he asked them softly and they looked back at him in shock.

'I am Claude.' Said the first.

'I am Frederick.' Said the other, with a nervous tone. And with this Raoul extended a shakey hand to them. Claude was first to accept and shook it gently, Frederick stepped forward and followed his friends example.

'Thank you.' Raoul said with a gentle nod and the two men turned their backs and left as he silently prayed that they would be okay.

A/N: Already bloody corrected something! lol